Opinion: Pavarotti's voice was heaven on Earth

Even from the Family Circle high atop The Met, you could tell he was a very big man.

And then he'd start to sing, and you realized Luciano Pavarotti was far more than the sum of his girth.

Up here in the cheap seats, sitting among the chandeliers, the sounds that left his throat made a physical presence around you, something you could feel resonating throughout the cavernous opera house.

You knew right away, with the first notes of "Celeste Aida," that you were sitting in the same room with greatness, a talent that went beyond mere physical gifts and endless hours of practice.

It was a supernatural sound, a musical Mickey Mantle in his prime, a talent beyond what we humans can reasonably be expected to achieve.

His was the kind of voice you'd expect to hear in heaven.

And still, Pavarotti was accessible to more than just the angels and the well-heeled of the here and now.

This poor son of a baker was a rotund man of the people, an operatic pop star, even to those who wouldn't know rap from a recitative.

This king of the high Cs was homely and obese; he lived large and loved his pasta. He got into trouble with his taxes and fell victim to the human frailties of divorce and excess. With that one notable exception — that voice that could rattle the rafters — he was human in every way.

He did charity concerts around the world, and free concerts in Central Park. I was there one night when half-a-million people were in a near-riot, demanding — and getting — an encore of "Una Furtiva Lagrima."

It wasn't Christmas Eve without his "Oh Holy Night," and he brought the joys of the basic tenor canon to millions, partnering with those other two tenors. They struggled to stay with him, but theirs were the best voices of merely this world.

Pavarotti made for an awkward-looking Egyptian warrior prince, an improbable starving poet, an unlikely rakish duke.

And then he'd start to sing, and the Ethiopian army was vanquished, and the hearts of innocent girls swooned in the seduction of his sound.

This giant of a man made you believe that ordinary people can do extraordinary things. He made you think that imperfect humans could reach exalted ranks, even achieve the sublime.

This angel's voice let you know there was still hope for all of us.

Joe Dowd is the Times Herald-Record's Hudson Valley regional editor and our resident opera buff.

Pavarotti remembered "The first time I met him, when it was my turn to go and see him, he turned around to me and said, 'Well, how are you, precious flower?' It floored me. I never expected it. I probably stood there with my mouth open and it just was such a lovely thing to say to somebody who just came in. It's a terrible loss for the opera world. Actually, it's a terrible loss for the entire world because he brought opera and music to the masses." — Suzanne Zimbler Opera enthusiast and singer and substitute teacher from Kingston "I knew Luciano many years ago when I was a young singer. What we lost was a free spirit. "I wish everyone knew him when he was a bit younger, when he had that kind of wonderful joy of life. We've lost a man whose essential soul is one of joy. "We sang the Masked Ball together and I was his page. It was the only time I ever played a role like that because I was always a leading lady but it was Pavarotti so it was fun. He was always fun. He was very big then but he had a twinkle in his eye, always a twinkle. "He's lucky he's been able to sing into the era when everything that he's done has been filmed for years. So there's no loss of Luciano Pavarotti. No, I think we should mourn him for his friends and family. But not for the world, he's there forever for the world." — Claudia Cummings Founder and Artistic Director of the Opera Company of the Highlands, and a celebrated opera singer "He is certainly one of the great singers of the last half of the century and certainly a proponent of making that whole musical style accessible to the world at large. It's a sad moment. He was truly a singer's singer and I say that as a singer. People who knew how to sing instantly understood the level at which he performed all the time. There was never a question, there was never a doubt as to what he was doing technically and what he was doing dramatically. It was always right on. And there are truly very few singers like that around. He was certainly the first and foremost in the second half of the 20th century who made that art form popular. Pavarotti was a citizen of the world. He was Italian, but everybody knew him." — Ron De Fesi Founder and artistic director of Hudson Opera Theatre