People, Sep. 5, 1960

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In Buenos Aires on his first Latino concert tour, Metropolitan Opera Tenor Richard Tucker was booked for six performances. To his horror he soon developed a sore throat and then, far worse, lost his voice entirely. To round out the nightmare, Argentine doctors at first could not detect what ailed him. After two days of near-mute anxiety. Tucker was ready to pack and go home. At last, however, it was determined that Trencherman Tucker had wolfed down a plate of scrambled eggs with a hidden ingredient—a chip of enamel that had lodged in his throat and sabotaged his larynx. Once it was removed, he regained his voice, drew mighty ovations and endless curtain calls from the audiences in B.A.'s old Colon Theater.

Milan Industrialist Giovanni Meneghini has an avocation that brought him nothing but grief in the past year. He fancies himself a talent scout and keeps his ears, heart and purse open for promising young operatic divas. His most notable find: sulphurous Soprano Maria Callas, 36, whom Meneghini. now 65. discovered, had trained under Italy's best voice cultivators, persuaded to diet off 70 Ibs. down to a svelte 135. Meneghini's biggest mistake, as it turned out. was to marry Maria; they are now legally separated after ten years of marriage, and she spends many unoperatic moments with Shipping Tycoon Aristotle Onassis. For a while it seemed that Meneghini, for reasons known only to himself, was heartbroken over Maria's departure, but last week there was a new trill in his ears. It emanated from promising young Silvana Tumicelli, 23, daughter of a furniture maker. Meneghini hopes to launch his new protegee in the style to which Maria grew accustomed, probably in Venice's La Fenice opera house. How will it all end? Said one of Silvana's friends: "She's kind of like Callas—except she doesn't want to go on The Diet." Silvana has no need to reduce: happily, she is about the same size before as Maria was after.

Winding up a three-month tour of the Soviet Union, thicket-topped Pianist Van Cliburn, 26, beyond dispute the Russians' favorite American, played, sang and wept through a televised farewell concert, also posed with two other TV stars, Belka and Strelka, the Soviet space dogs. Presented with his tour earnings of roughly $8,000, Cliburn, not permitted to take the money back to the U.S., passed up a chance to shoot the wad on a luxurious

Chaika car that would have been exportable, instead turned over the whole amount to Moscow's dilapidated Baptist Church, only Protestant church in the Soviet capital. It was a gift, said he, in memory of his grandfather, a Baptist minister in Texas. Later, amidst more teary farewells at a Moscow airport, he flew off for home on the same plane with Barbara Powers, wife of one of the least popular Americans in Russia.