Dear Anthony Amato 1920 - 2011 Rest in Peace

(Photo Copyright © 2013 Harald Schrader. All Rights Reserved.)

On a very busy work day, I have to pause for one moment to acknowledge personally devastating news. I just learned of the passing of the one-and-only, Anthony "Tony" Amato, of his now legendary New York opera company, AMATO OPERA. Founded in New York by Tony, and his late, beyond-beloved wife, Sally, Amato in 1948, the "small, but oh, so grand" company -- which was first housed in the basement theater of Our Lady of Pompeii Church on Bleecker Street, followed by other locations, then a long-term home at 159 Bleecker Street, then its longer, final home at 319 Bowery -- gave thousands of performances over nearly 60 years, and an equal amount of aspiring singers (some who ended up at the MET and other great companies) the opportunity to learn operatic roles, stage craft, and the magic that was Tony and Sally.


For me, Tony's passing means much more than what he represents to opera lovers in New York and around the globe. He was a friend. My mother, another Italian-American, born and raised in Greenwich Village, who was baptized, married, and baptized me at Our Lady of Pompeii Church, first saw/heard live opera in the church's theater by way of Tony and Sally's company. My mom aspired to be a pop star and had the talent to do it. She heard/saw the Amato performances of Bizet's Carmen and the "twin bill" of Cavalleria Rusticana and I Pagliacci, and she was permanently mesmerized by a musical and performance medium that, at the time, was, in her mind, formerly "square." She was so hooked that she audaciously auditioned for Tony -- with a lot of informal stage and singing experience, but, at the time, no operatic training -- for the Bleecker Street theater, he accepted her, and she sang in his chorus and danced with the company. It changed my mother's life, and she dedicated nights, weekends, any time she could while she also worked, took voice lessons (classical/opera), and dreamed of becoming an operatic star.

Much ensued in my mother's life over the years that curtailed her aspirations to an operatic career, but, for many years, she stayed with the Amato company, only stopping in the later 1950s when circumstances did not allow her to continue. She remained close with Tony and Sally for years afterward, but then met my father, started a very different life, gave up her singing (she did so a few years before becoming engaged to my dad), and did not, for many complex reasons, attend performances.

In 1979, my mom and I went to hear/see a production of Tosca at Tony and Sally's Bowery theater. Though my mom continued to share holiday greetings throughout the years with Tony, Sally, Sally's late sister, Ann (Frydel--married to former, fellow Amato singer, and, later, MET chorus member, John Frydel), and their family, she had not heard/saw a live performance of an opera for decades. It was when I found a love of opera -- independently of my mom -- in my early teens that I began to reengage my mother in her passion for music. She saw Tony and Sally, and others, at the "new" theater, and it was like all of them were never separated. My mother did not pursue re-joining the Amato chorus; instead, she became a loyal attendee at performances from 1979 through the last season of the company, was part of the Sally Amato Opera Circle, and, in many ways, re-joined the family.

I first heard Jon Fredric West, the great, internationally-renowned tenor, and my, and my mom's, now three-decade friend, at Amato's -- "Down at Amato's" was the colloquial way of addressing the company (because it was "downtown") -- and many heard MET legend, Mignon Dunn, world opera star, Neil Shicoff, and countless other important operatic figures with the company.

I have so much more to say, but, in the interest of time, most importantly, rest-in-peace to Tony, a one-of-a-kind, tireless, passionate, genius, dynamo, and a beautiful human being. He will be missed more than I can express in mere words.