Zsolt Bende

 

Starting out on a career in whatever field, you need to have a point of entry. My family were professionals (doctors, lawyers), businessmen etc. so the musical world was not something familiar to me or to them. Nonetheless we knew people who knew people who had some involvement in that area so naturally I grasped at those straws. They were interesting but not very productive. For example my father knew a doctor, I think a Paediatrician in Boston called Max Tennis who knew 'Hurok's man' there. I forget the name of 'Hurok's man' but I went to Boston in the days when I was trying to get a start and met Max Tennis and his contact in the Hurok organization.

Tennis was a tiny almost spherical old man. No doubt he was eminent in his field but you wouldn't have guessed it. He was also a bit creepy. We took a taxi somewhere and my newly acquired wife, the beautiful Jill Kravitz, Max and I found ourselves on the back seat of a taxi. Jill was in the middle with Max on one side of her. He continuously stretched his arm over Jill's chest to point out some passing landmark. 

I forget the name of Hurok's man. He was tall, not undistinguished and quite diffident. I invited him to lunch at the venerable fish restaurant, Locke-Ober's. Now closed that restaurant was a truly historical institution (it only admitted women in 1971) so I was glad to have had the experience of eating there but my conversation didn't lead to anything.

Back in London, Jill's best friend, Juli Markus had more contacts than my family. This was because her parents had an old friend called Darday Bandi who happened to be the Artistic Administrator of the Allami Operahaz Budapest (Hungarian State Opera). When he came to London he always came with some opera singer or other and at that time he had come with Bende Zsolt, a principal baritone of the company.

Zsolt had been engaged by Glyndebourne for the role of Belcore in ''L'Elisir d'amore." In those days the casting was often done by a man called Jani Strasser who was a Hungarian refugee since before the war. He was also head coach and repetiteur. After the war Glyndebourne mysteriously used to cast many Hungarian singers and these of course came through Jani Strasser's links with his homeland. Zsolt was one of these.

Tall, handsome and very charming, Zsolt was perfect for the role of Belcore. Through his connection with the Markus family who took him in in those days, I became friends with him - my first in the musical world.

We spoke in German. I gleaned a lot from our conversations. When I was still a student I put on a concert at Oxford Town Hall for him with the newly formed London Sinfonietta. Zsolt sang various arias. David Atherton conducted. Years later I found out that the Sinfonietta had held a board meeting after that concert and decided they would never do anything like that again.

I also arranged for Zsolt to audition in Paris for the Aix en Provence Festival for a man called Gabriel Dussurget who had been the director from the start. He listened politely. I thought Zsolt sang very well but nothing came of it. Afterwards I took Zsolt to lunch at Brasserie Lipp. I was concerned about what he was going to do the rest of the day. He said he was going to the Folies Bergeres. That was surprising because Zsolt was gay but apparently the manager was Hungarian (wouldn't you know) and an old friend of his.

Years later I visited Zsolt in Budapest and had a lovely lunch with him in a Greek restaurant. I was sorry I hadn't been able to do anything for him. As well as one of my first contacts in the musical world, I learned some hard lessons from my attempts to get work for him. On that occasion he showed me a score of the 'War Requiem' dedicated to him by Britten. He had sung in the Hungarian premiere of that work and had been admired by the composer. Zsolt was a class act to be sure.

The last time I saw Zsolt was at Covent Garden. He was not appearing there but had come with his pupil, the young soprano Andrea Rost who was singing Violetta at the house. I remember his strict instructions to he and how she listened attentively to him. He was old by then and I asked him if he still sang. He said he had been appearing in 'Madama Butterfly' in Budapest just before coming to London. 'Oh you mean Yamadori?' No, I was singing Sharpless!'