Searching for Heroes

Probably the best-known Wagnerian tenor of the century, Danish-born Lauritz Melchior, retired from the opera stage 19 years ago. Since then, he observes accurately enough, "there has been no one to replace me." One reason is that his major roles require a Heldentenor (heroic tenor), that rare breed of singer with the stature of a Valhalla deity, the projection of a diesel horn and the stamina of a Channel swimmer.

Heldentenors are made, not born.

They are usually high baritones who take time off in their late 20s or 30s to ac quire a tenor's range and build up their voice. But careers move so fast now adays that few singers can afford to interrupt them. The result, says Melchior, is that "the breed has practically vanished." Most of the tenors who attempt these heroic roles are a bit jugendlich (youthful-sounding). Meantime, great dramatic sopranos like Birgit Nilsson are Isoldes in search of Tristans, and some of Wagner's finest music is scant ed in the repertory.

Melchior, now 78, has been doing his part by scouring the ranks of young singers for potential Heldentenor ma terial. He formed his own Heldentenor Foundation five years ago, and by this year had raised enough money to offer some deserving prospect a year of sub sidized study and practice. Last week, at Manhattan's Juilliard School, he auditioned nine candidates from among 50 applicants around the country. The judges included Singers Nilsson and Alexander Kipnis and Juilliard President Peter Mennin. They picked not one but two winners, each of whom proved in extreme ways Melchior's dictum that no two Heldentenors are alike.

John Russell, 36, has never sung a role with a professional opera company, and only learned about the audition four days ahead of time. As a Negro, he is an unlikely looking Wagnerian hero. The father of six children (soon there will be seven), Russell makes his living as a research chemist for the U.S. Department of Agriculture in Philadelphia. Until he started lessons at Philadelphia's Settlement Music School at the age of 26, he had done most of his singing in church choirs and shower -stalls. Instead of a Wagnerian selection, he sang an aria from Verdi's Otello, impressing the judges with his brooding intensity and naturally rich, dark-timbred voice. A good thing, too, because Otello "is the only role I really know."

Helden Chest. The other winner, William Cochran, 25, was almost barred from the audition as too young. A huge, 250-lb. former weight lifter and lineman on the Wesleyan University football team, Cochran once wanted to become a minister. But singing in the Wesleyan Glee Club eventually diverted him to Philadelphia's Curtis Institute. Already a veteran of concert engagements and small roles at the Metropolitan Opera, his selections from Lohengrin and Walkure displayed massive power and a brilliantly glossy upper register. Every day, Cochran runs a mile and works out to preserve such Heldentenor traits as his 52-in. chest. "My ambition," he says, "is to be able to keep on singing until I'm 80."

Both singers will probably end up in Germany next season. Cochran has offers from the Stuttgart and Munich operas, and Russell wants to learn the language while developing his technique in a Wagnerian atmosphere. Meantime, Melchior took them both in tow after the audition for a basic introduction to the Heldentenor regimen: a trip to a Danish restaurant in Manhattan for smorgasbord, aquavit and beer in truly heroic quantities.

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