1975 was a big year for me: I turned fifteen, and my parents stopped harping about a lot of things, including what time I had to go to bed. This meant that I was up until the early morning hours several nights a week, watching The Tonight Show starring JOHNNY CARSON. Becoming a regular watcher of Carson meant that I got to experience, for the first time, opera singers as personalities; for years, this was as close as I would come to Dress Circle Standing Room. Opera stars weren't just on Carson: they also turned up with some frequency as guests on MERV GRIFFIN and MIKE DOUGLAS, and to this day I wonder if any of those kings of TV talk knew exactly how much they enriched our lives by bringing us so many iconic figures from opera, ballet, Broadway and literature. Griffin, in particular, was surprisingly well informed about opera history. He joked with JAN PEERCE about Peerce's real name, Jacob Pincus "Pinky" Perelmuth, and was tuned in to Peerce's Bob-and-Bing relationship with his good buddy ROBERT MERRILL. ("What's he doing?" Peerce mockingly asked Griffin. "Is he still in the business?")

Recently I perused some of these vintage talk-show outings on YouTube and on homemade DVD compilations. The sound may not be optimal, and the images may be scratchy, but these late-afternoon and late-night time capsules come through even more vividly than they once did, because now they are enhanced by nostalgia.

One perennially popular guest, of course, was BEVERLY SILLS. (She even hosted the Carson show from time to time.) Sills was perfect for this kind of appearance, because she seemed like the kind of woman you'd spot digging clipped coupons out of her purse in the Express Line at the A&P or circulating a petition to save a West Side community garden from being turned into a parking garage. And these talk-show appearances give tantalizing clues to what drove her. Even in the mid-1970s, after she had attained a degree of stardom unimaginable to most opera singers, she couldn't hide her anger that it had taken her so long to get to the top; with dimples of steel, she reminded DAVID FROST and DICK CAVETT for the umpteenth time that New York City Opera hadn't done that much for her prior to casting her in that career-making Giulio Cesare.

Of all the talk-show hosts, probably no one hosted singers more regularly than Carson. There he sat, in an endless line of plaid sport jackets, kidding about his own operatic ignorance — but treating his guests with enormous respect. Again and again, he mentioned how much he learned from having singers on his show, and how important he thought it was for his audience to learn from them, too. Carson had his favorites. There was JUDITH BLEGEN, who in a 1978 appearance offered a graceful, beautifully judged rendition of Kismet's "And This is My Beloved" and tried unsuccessfully to recall the words to her high school's fight song. CAROL NEBLETT was on several times, always harmlessly flirtatious and once giving The Tonight Show's band a lesson in portamento as she sang "Till There Was You." Beginning in 1971, MARILYN HORNE turned up a lot, dazzling the audience with performances of works such as the brindisi from Lucrezia Borgia and Cenerentola's "Nacqui all'affanno." Horne was such a big star that she often got a second number, something along the lines of "Danny Boy" or "Jeannie with the Light Brown Hair." My favorite moment in her Tonight Show history, however, was a non-musical one: in 1976, Carson mentioned that Sills had been on recently. "Bubbles is her nickname, as you know," said Carson. Apparently enough years hadn't gone by since the Sills–Horne feud in the La Scala Siege of Corinth, because his comment was greeted with a glacial silence, after which Horne informed him that she had a nickname of her own. Jackie.

Of all Carson's opera-star guests, perhaps his favorite was MARTINA ARROYO, whose appearances pretty much cemented her reputation as the wittiest woman in opera. On a 1977 segment, she sang "Un bel dì" and Fauré's "Fleur jetée," recalled LOUIS JOURDAN singing Schubert and Brahms songs to her at a party at DANNY KAYE's house, and broke up her fellow guests GEORGE CARLIN and MICHAEL LANDON. "You were vocalizing in the room next to me," Landon said, to which Arroyo purred, "I was just trying to get your attention."

Dick Cavett had a genius for asking the right questions and putting his guests at ease. In a late '70s Cavett appearance, LEONTYNE PRICE laughingly recalled throwing a chair at FRANCO CORELLI during their 1964 Carmen recording sessions. "You're in a little trouble," giggled Price, "if Don José is not relating." She then sang "Love Walked In," throwing all the register-break rules out the window with such charm and authority that I wouldn't change a moment of it.

It's impossible not to sink into a nostalgic lament for the days when network television wasn't afraid to put classical artists up against rock idols and movie stars. People on talk shows today don't really talk about much; when was the last time you heard a real conversation on Letterman? In the current climate, classical-music publicists work overtime trying to get their clients on TV, while the producers in question, filled with terror about the numbers, shake their heads dismissively. But watch RENATA SCOTTO holding hands with NEIL SEDAKA on a 1977 Merv Griffin show, and chances are you'll be filled with regret that the marketing people long ago inherited the earth.

STEPHEN COSTELLO, one of the most closely watched tenors on the international scene, is this year's winner of this year's annual RICHARD TUCKER AWARD. Carrying with it a cash prize of $30,000, the Tucker Award is one of the most prestigious prizes in the music industry. I spoke with Costello in early September, not long before he made his Covent Garden debut in a concert version of Donizetti's Linda di Chamounix that starred EGLISE GUTIERREZ in the title role and was conducted by the estimable MARK ELDER. He considered the work a shrewd choice for his first time out at the Royal Opera. "People kept telling me that I wasn't going in being compared to PLÁCIDO DOMINGO and LUCIANO PAVAROTTI," he recalls. "There's always a big discussion whenever accepting anything, about whether it's the right thing to do at that time. Every time we decide something, we think about what we are doing right before and right after. Every piece can jeopardize another piece. I've done a lot of learning of new roles — four or five roles per season. It's getting to be too much to do that. There's only so much that you can take mentally, and that your voice can take. I took the summer off, especially for Covent Garden, so I could be ready for my debut."

Costello studies with WILLIAM SCHUMAN, the in-demand voice teacher whose institutional home base is Philadelphia's Academy of Vocal Arts, the place that launched Costello. "Bill was a tenor himself," says Costello, "and he has the greatest set of ears I've ever found. He can really hear what your voice is doing and describe it to you, and he realizes that every throat is different. When I came to AVA, I didn't really have a technique. And he started from the beginning and helped me to build to what I could do. It was mostly trying to get more of a core to my sound and make everything even from top to bottom."

Costello will be performing at this year's Tucker Gala, which takes place November 22 at Avery Fisher Hall. It's a starry lineup that includes SUSAN GRAHAM, ELINA GARANČA, SAMUEL RAMEY, JOSEPH CALLEJA, STEPHANIE BLYTHE, ANNA NETREBKO, members of THE METROPOLITAN OPERA ORCHESTRA (led by FABIO LUISI) and THE NEW YORK CHORAL SOCIETY. Costello has immense regard for the gala's namesake. "He was such a powerhouse. He could sing and sing. Some of his recitals, where he would sing an hour-and-a-half program and then do ten arias on the end. I mean, he's one of the great tenors, and he doesn't get the attention he deserves. I was in Ancona doing Rigoletto, and I was getting kind of tired of the music, and I turned on Sirius and the Met was playing an old performance of Richard Tucker singing in Carmen. And it was the final act, and the power and the style that he sang in were unbelievable. People are always pushing Italian tenors. But Tucker was the great American tenor, and a superstar—and he doesn't get enough credit."

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