Music: Met's Metamorphosis

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Johnson was no stranger to the Metropolitan. For 13 years he had kept his eminence there as an important romantic tenor, created more roles than any other tenor alive. Romantic ladies still heave when they recall his dreamy Peter Ibbetson, his wistful Pelleas, his tender Romeo. Forthwith he settled down to the more excruciating task of playing Romeo to the box office, the Opera Board and the biggest congress of temperament known to man.

There were snags in that courtship. Ever since Caruso died and Farrar quit the Met, its Italian and French wings needed new blood. Witherspoon had planned to go abroad after fresh talent, dropped dead on the eve of his sailing. Johnson's sailing was delayed six weeks. By that time many a top-notch singer had been engaged, and last year's French and Italian performances had to string along with as little life as ever.

Hitches arose with Pons, Ponselle, Tibbett. Witherspoon had thought they wanted too much money, could not come to terms with them. It took the Johnson tact to re-engage them. The new singers, many of whom Johnson inherited with his job, turned out to be another problem. Out of 19, only two achieved real success. Australian Soprano Marjorie Lawrence sang Brunnehilde dramatically, if unevenly, startled operagoers by mounting a horse in Gotterdammerung and galloping off stage as Wagner prescribed. Scrawny Swedish Gertrud Wettergren proved to be a siren as Amneris in Aida, a sensitive Brangane.

Some of the newcomers were given an opportunity to win their spurs in French and Italian operas, some in the popular-priced auxiliary season demanded by Juilliard. Most smashing popular-priced success was a lively performance of The Bartered Bride in English.

Whatever they thought of the spring season, people were more enthusiastic last winter than they had been since Depression. For this Soprano Kirsten Flagstad did more than her share. The big, blonde Norwegian had blazed overnight into Metropolitan supremacy in the last weeks of Gatti's reign. Hailed as one of the great Isoldes in history, she came to Johnson for her first full season, fortifying what was already the finest German wing in the world.

Many regarded Johnson's first term as almost miraculous. The box office had soared, the deficit had fallen to the lowest in four years. He had tried to build up the orchestra, encouraged the energetic if occasionally ragged American Ballet. The spring season gave hopes of being an excellent proving ground for U. S. talent. Most important was the reanimated public that seemed to awaken once more to opera. A few grumbled that Johnson's first season had been the most conventional in Metropolitan history. No premieres had been produced. Not one opera was put on unless it looked sure-fire from the box-office standpoint. But Johnson, playing safe, called attention to the harmony and co-operation he had spread through his whole organization, anticipated more novelty this winter.