Battle Fatigue

(2 of 3)

"I applaud Joe Volpe for standing up to her," says Ernest Fleischmann, managing director of the Los Angeles Philharmonic. "Somebody has to say stop. It's a salutary lesson and a help to us all." In these sentiments, he is far from alone. Other impresarios were also harsh in their assessment. "In the Met's place, I would have done exactly the same," said Hugues Gall, newly appointed head of the Paris Opera. "In the 1920s the director of the Met, Gatti-Casazza, used to deal firmly with even greater stars, like Caruso. But Caruso wasn't as crazy as Miss Battle seems to be."

On the advice of her handlers, the powerful Columbia Artists Management Inc., the soprano was saying little. Battle is a reserved, private woman who has subordinated her personal life to her career; in a brief statement that was her only public comment, she complained she was never warned that her actions were out of line. "To my knowledge," she said, "we were working out all of the artistic problems in the rehearsals, and I don't know the reason behind this unexpected dismissal. All I can say is, I am saddened by this decision."

Sources inside and outside the Met agree that Battle's downfall was triggered by her harsh treatment of co-star Rosalind Elias, 64, a veteran and locally beloved mezzo. In one high-comedy scene, Elias, as the Marquise of Berkenfield, is seated at the piano coaching the high-spirited Marie, played by Battle, in a proper old tune. Battle stiffly complained that Elias' piano playing was inept and was adversely affecting her phrasing; she issued a series of ultimatums culminating in a demand that the solo be played by a musician in the orchestra pit.

The Met management, wearied by Battle's incessant demands -- last year, she abruptly pulled out of a Met Rosenkavalier after a tiff with conductor Christian Thielemann -- informed Columbia Artists' formidable president, Ronald Wilford, that Battle would be fired. Wilford asked that the decision be postponed a couple of days and, in a meeting with Volpe on Feb. 7, pleaded Battle's case. "Enough is enough," Volpe told him. "This has to stop." Later that day, after Battle left him three telephone messages, Volpe finally called her back and told her she was fired. Says Volpe: "Please understand that I pride myself on working with singers. What I find so unfortunate in this situation is that I was not able to make this work."

The battle of Kathy is also complicated by her race; black singers such as Battle, Leontyne Price and Jessye Norman have had to make their way -- determinedly, often courageously -- in an overwhelmingly white milieu. Yet so unpopular has Battle become that she is often openly derided with the crudest kind of racial epithets -- backstage at the Met she is known as the "U.N.," or "uppity nigger" -- and speculations about her sanity are widespread. "She's young, pretty, very talented and very, very screwed up," says a Met insider. "I think she's sick, actually, but I couldn't tell you why."