Franco Corelli - The Prince of Tenors - (1921-2003) (age 82) Nessun Dorma 1982

 

Richard Tucker Dies at 60 (1913-1975)

 

Music: One of a Golden Dozen

Monday, Jan. 20, 1975

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"I hope you're not looking for glamour," Richard Tucker once warned a reporter, "because I'm just not the glamorous type." Short, squat and built like a football lineman, Tucker hardly suggested Rodolfo. Not that it mattered. A ringing, luminous sound, fueled by Tucker's majestic belief in both music and the voice he felt that God had given him, was embellishment enough for the legions of operagoers who came year after year to hear Verdi and Puccini melt in his mouth 

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Last week, on the eve of his 30th anniversary with New York's Metropolitan Opera, Tucker at 60 collapsed and died of a heart attack in Kalamazoo, Mich., where that night he had been scheduled to sing a joint recital with his friend, Baritone Robert Merrill. Among Met tenors only Giovanni Martinelli outlasted Tucker, with 32 seasons. 

Nearly every seat was taken at Tucker's funeral, held on the Met stage. The only previous funerals in the Met (in its old, Diamond Horseshoe home before the move to Lincoln Center) were those of Conductor Leopold Damrosch 90 years ago and General Manager Heinrich Conried 66 years ago. 

It was Met General Manager Rudolf Bing who declared in the early '50s: "Caruso, Caruso, that's all you hear! I have an idea we're going to be proud some day to tell people we heard Tucker." Last week the current general manager, Schuyler Chapin, said: "When the annals of opera history are written, Tucker will rank among the golden dozen." He sang 32 leading roles, appearing in 503 Met performances. Tucker himself claimed sovereignty over but a single role: "Of course I can sing it better than anyone else," he said with disarming candor about his portrayal of the clown Canio in Pagliacci. "There isn't another tenor in the world who can equal me just singing it." 

There were very few dissenters. In 1962 TIME called him "the greatest tenor singing today." His voice had almost unique evenness of tone and quality from top to bottom and was celebrated for its diamond-hard focus. At the same time it was infused with a sweetness and warmth more usually heard in singers from Naples than in tenors from Brooklyn, where Tucker came from. 

Born Reuben Ticker of Rumanian immigrant parents, Tucker began his musical training at six when he sang alto in the choir of the Allen Street Synagogue on New York's Lower East Side. He intended to be a cantor but took a job first as a runner on Wall Street and then in the garment industry. Until several years after his marriage at 22 to Sara Perelmuth, the sister of Tenor Jan Peerce, he had never seen a Met performance. Inspired by the example of his prominent inlaw, Tucker, who was then a fur coat-lining salesman and cantor, began studying with Wagnerian Tenor Paul Althouse. According to Althouse, "Tucker just came for his lesson, took off his hat, sang, put his hat on again and went." Tucker was permanent cantor at the Brooklyn Jewish Center when he auditioned for the Met in 1944. The next year, on Jan. 25, he made his debut singing Enzo in La Gioconda—on a two-month leave of absence from his synagogue. He never gave up his role of cantor, and since 1961 had participated yearly in High Holy Days services at Chicago's Park Synagogue. 

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Read more: http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,912704,00.html#ixzz1BkIhUSpW

 

Limmie Pulliam, renowned US Tenor, dies at 51: Here's what we know

Limmie Pulliam gave a magnificent performance days before his sudden death at age 51

Limmie Pulliam, renowned US Tenor, dies at 51: Here's what we know

Famed US tenor, Limmie Pulliam, has passed away at the age of 51.

The heartbreaking news was confirmed by his friends on Wednesday, May 20.

Pulliam had recently performed in Mahler's eighth symphony alongside the Dallas Symphony and Fabio Luisi before his sudden death.

He trained with the late renowned pedagogue Richard Miller and became a participant in the young artist programme of the Cleveland Opera, Opera Delaware and Opera Memphis.

The Missouri native previously took a break from his singing career two decades ago due to weight struggles and shaming; however, he returned to the stage in January 2023 at Carnegie Hall.

After his comeback, Pulliam performed across Europe and the US, including playing the role of Radamès in Verdi's Aida at the Metropolitan Opera. He was scheduled to perform in Cleveland for his next engagement.

Friends and fellow artists expressed grief over the sudden loss, as Jacksonville conductor Courtney Lewis penned on his social media, "Rest in peace Limmie."

"I only knew you for a week, but our concerts together are etched into my memory forever. You captivated our orchestra and audiences in Jacksonville and West Palm with your astonishing voice, artistry and humanity. We love you," said Courtney.

Limmie Pulliam's cause of death

As of writing, Limmie Pulliam's family has not revealed the cause of his death, nor the details about his funeral.

Notably, the late musician spent his childhood as the son of a preacher in Kennett, Missouri, a town with a population of 11,000 residents, before embarking on his international operatic career.

 

Tenor Limmie Pulliam dies at 51, Opera loses a giant

• By Dempsey May Ayuco
• May 20, 2026
• 12:24 pm

'Limmie Pulliam' (Image source: YouTube/Courtney's Stars of Tomorrow)

A tenor who defied convention and captivated stages from New York to Sicily has gone silent too soon

The World Has Lost a Rare Operatic Force

Limmie Pulliam, the Missouri-born dramatic tenor whose thunderous voice and commanding stage presence earned him a place among opera’s most compelling performers of his generation, died at 51. His passing leaves a void in a world that had only begun to fully appreciate the scope of his gifts.

Pulliam’s path to the upper echelons of opera was one built on discipline, competition, and the kind of stubborn artistic conviction that turns promising singers into enduring artists. He trained under the late Richard Miller, one of the most respected vocal pedagogues of the 20th century, whose method-driven approach shaped countless professional voices. That foundation proved indispensable as Pulliam navigated the competitive terrain of professional opera.

Pulliam Conquered Young Artist Programs Before Major Stages

He sharpened his craft through young artist programs at Cleveland Opera, Opera Delaware, and Opera Memphis — proving grounds that test a singer’s ability to perform under pressure while developing interpretive depth. By 2012, the industry had taken formal notice: Pulliam claimed top honors in the Artist Division of the National Opera Association’s Vocal Competition, a prestigious platform that has launched numerous significant careers.

The following year, he crossed the Atlantic to win at the 3rd Annual Concorso Internazionale di Canto della Fondazione Marcello Giordano in Catania, Sicily — a signal that his artistry resonated not just domestically but on an international stage.

A Career Built Across the Country’s Finest Halls

What followed was a career of remarkable breadth. Pulliam performed with some of the most celebrated orchestras and opera companies in North America and beyond, including the Minnesota Orchestra, Baltimore Symphony Orchestra, Cleveland Orchestra, Dallas Symphony, Orchestre Métropolitain, Florida Grand Opera, Madison Opera, Utah Opera, and the Gewandhaus Orchester in Germany, among others. His repertoire ranged widely — encompassing the sweeping Italianate drama of Verdi and Leoncavallo alongside the Germanic weight of Beethoven and Mahler.

His 2021–22 season marked a turning point. That year, Pulliam made his debut at LA Opera, expanding his footprint on the West Coast. But the headline moment came in 2022, when he stepped onto the stage of the Metropolitan Opera — the most storied house in American opera — as Radamès in Aida. It was both his Met debut and his role debut, a bold artistic choice that reflected the confidence he brought to everything he undertook. He reprised the role the same season for Tulsa Opera’s 75th anniversary gala concert, cementing his ownership of that demanding part.

A Voice That Welcomed New Audiences

Beyond his performances, Pulliam believed deeply in opera’s capacity to evolve and reach wider audiences. He was an advocate for concert versions of operatic works, viewing them not as a lesser format but as an effective bridge between the art form and communities that might otherwise never encounter it. He saw accessible, stripped-down productions as a genuine means of expanding opera’s cultural footprint — a perspective grounded in experience rather than theory.

That humanizing quality extended to his artistry. He did not perform for critics or connoisseurs alone. He performed for anyone willing to listen.

Pulliam Leaves a Legacy on Record and in Memory

Pulliam is survived by the music he made and the audiences he moved. He left behind one studio recording, Witness — a recital album that now stands as a testament to a voice the opera world will not hear again. The title, in retrospect, feels apt: those who saw Limmie Pulliam perform were witnesses to something extraordinary.

Source: OperaWire

Oberlin Conservatory: Tenor Limmie Pulliam ’98, Who Sang on Stages Worldwide, Dies at 50

 

Tenor Limmie Pulliam ’98, Who Sang on Stages Worldwide, Dies at 50

Gifted singer became a regular presence on the Oberlin campus where he honed his craft.

May 20, 2026

Communications Staff

Limmie Pulliam, in an October 2022 preview performance of "The Ordering of Moses" with the Oberlin Orchestra and Oberlin choirs in Finney Chapel. The following month, the musicians presented the work at Carnegie Hall.

Photo credit: Yevhen Gulenko

Dramatic tenor Limmie Pulliam, a 1998 graduate of Oberlin Conservatory who gave life to a host of leading opera roles and as a classical soloist on prominent stages across America and around the globe—and whose unlikely rise to fame after years away from music buoyed the dreams of performers everywhere—has died. He was 50.

Last week, Pulliam had been the tenor soloist in the Dallas Symphony Orchestra’s performances of Mahler’s Symphony No. 8.

Raised in Kennett, Missouri, Pulliam, the son of a preacher, grew up singing in his church choir before his passion for classical music took shape. At Oberlin, he was a student of the legendary voice professor Richard Miller, who played a vital role in developing Pulliam’s remarkably powerful sound.

Soon after graduating, however, Pulliam found himself disillusioned over concerns related to his weight and the audition rejections and body shaming he was subjected to as a result of it. For 12 years, he pursued work as a debt collector and security guard—even operating his own security business. For most of that time, he seldom even thought of music, let alone sang.

Pulliam’s rediscovery of his own voice came in the unlikeliest of ways: While working as an organizer for Barack Obama’s 2008 presidential campaign in Missouri, he was invited to sing the National Anthem when the scheduled singer backed out.

The performance, and several others that followed, signaled to Pulliam that his voice had matured and grown in size in the years since his Oberlin training. It reignited his interest in exploring where he might go with it. His formal return to the stage happened at age 36, with a performance in the National Opera Association’s vocal competition. 

In November 2024, Pulliam discussed his career trajectory with Oberlin President Carmen Twillie Ambar on the Running to the Noise podcast. In it, he revealed how he revisited old videotapes of his sessions with Professor Miller.

"It was almost like riding a bicycle," he recalled. "As I began to work with the tapes, the coordination began to come back." 

Limmie Pulliam performing the title role in The Ordering of Moses with the Oberlin Orchestra and Oberlin choirs at Carnegie Hall in January 2023.

Photo credit: Fadi Kheir

As Pulliam’s career resurgence took shape, so did his involvement with Oberlin, where he delighted in working with students on projects and in rehearsals.

His on-campus collaborations included singing the title role in The Ordering of Moses, an opera penned by 1908 Oberlin alum R. Nathaniel Dett. The work, performed by the Oberlin Orchestra and Oberlin choirs in January 2023, marked Pulliam’s Carnegie Hall debut.

The previous month, he had made his Metropolitan Opera debut as Radamès in Verdi’s Aida. He was the first Black singer in the history of the Met to perform the role.

Also in 2023, Pulliam debuted with the Cleveland Orchestra in the title role of a semi-staged production of Verdi’s Otello.

“He has an amazing voice,” Cleveland Orchestra Music Director Franz Welser-Möst said in an interview with cleveland.com. “I’ve not heard a better Otello in a very long time. He really is quite something."

Within days of Pulliam’s Carnegie Hall premiere, he was featured in a New York Times story with the headline “He Quit Singing Because of Body Shaming. Now He’s Making a Comeback.” 

Former First Lady Michelle Obama called out Pulliam on Facebook in February 2023, recalling his initial performance on her husband’s campaign and his spate of debut performances. “Limmie, I’m so proud of you,” she wrote. “Your story is incredible and I hope you know how much you are inspiring people to never give up on their dreams.”

In 2024, Pulliam was one of several Oberlin contemporaries who reunited for a collaborative concert production of Omar, the Pulitzer Prize-winning opera by Rhiannon Giddens ’01 and Michael Abels. He sang the title role alongside his longtime friends and collaborators Giddens, bass-baritone Daniel Okulitch ’98, and baritone Michael Preacely ’01. Another prominent Oberlin alum, John Kennedy ’82, conducted the performance. Pulliam and Giddens spoke about the experience of returning to campus to perform the opera to NPR.

Pulliam performing the title role in Rhiannon Giddens' Omar in Finney Chapel in December 2024.

Photo credit: Mike Crupi

Pulliam derived great joy from his work with Oberlin students, and he offered them a word of support in his podcast conversation with Ambar.

“Don’t be afraid to face your fears, to step out of your comfort zone, to be persistent in your work, to be consistent in your work, and don’t let a no deter you from continuing to push forward,” he said.

“It’s up to us to take control of our own destinies and to define ourselves, as opposed to allowing other people to define us.”

In October 2025, Oberlin students attended Pulliam’s performance as soloist in Mahler's Song of the Earth with the Cleveland Orchestra, after which the orchestra hosted a reception for Pulliam and his Oberlin guests. In February of this year, a busload of Oberlin students experienced Pulliam’s performance in Turandot at Detroit Music Hall.

Most recently, Pulliam returned to campus to honor the late Daune Mahy, a longtime voice professor whom the conservatory celebrated with a memorial concert in early March. Pulliam sang Richard Strauss’ Zueignung (von Gilm).

“Limmie was an extraordinary, powerful artist,” says Dean of the Conservatory William Quillen. “Even more, he was a deeply good, kind-hearted, funny, brilliant, and generous colleague and friend who transformed the lives of everyone he met. His performances with our students were life-changing for all involved. On behalf of everyone at Oberlin, we send deepest condolences to Limmie's family, friends, classmates, and loved ones. He was a remarkable artist, and we will miss him greatly.”

In his podcast conversation, Pulliam’s reaction to achieving notoriety later in life was a fitting example of that big-hearted generosity. “I hope [my story] inspired others to just really know not to ever give up on their dreams,” he said.

New York Times: He Quit Singing Because of Body Shaming - Limmie Pulliam 1976-2026

He Quit Singing Because of Body Shaming. Now He’s Making a Comeback.

The tenor Limmie Pulliam, who made his debut at Carnegie Hall on Friday, hopes to break barriers for larger artists.

Limmie Pulliam at Carnegie Hall, where he made his debut on Friday singing the title role in R. Nathaniel Dett’s “The Ordering of Moses.”Credit...Fadi Kheir

By Javier C. Hernández

Jan. 23, 2023

As a rising young tenor in the 1990s, Limmie Pulliam dreamed of a career that would take him to the world’s top stages. But Pulliam, who has struggled with excessive weight for much of his life, quit singing in his early 20s because of concerns about body shaming in the music industry, finding work instead as a debt collector and a security guard.

 

Now, after spending much of the past decade rebuilding his voice and career, Pulliam, 47, is finally realizing his dream. He made his debut at Carnegie Hall on Friday with the Oberlin Orchestra, singing the title role in R. Nathaniel Dett’s “The Ordering of Moses.” And last month, he made his Metropolitan Opera debut in the role of Radamès in Verdi’s “Aida,” filling in for a tenor who had canceled his appearance — making Pulliam the first Black singer to perform that role in the Met’s history.

His solemn performance received a warm ovation at Carnegie.

“To hear Limmie succeed in this moment so beautifully, and at this point in his life, was personally satisfying for me,” said Timothy LeFebvre, the chair of the voice department at Oberlin. “We always cheer on our colleagues when they reach these notable achievements, but even more so when it is so hard fought.”

In an interview, Pulliam reflected on his 12-year break from singing and the challenges facing larger artists, who once were common in the industry but have faced pressure in recent years to slim down. He also talked about how a chance to perform the national anthem while working as a field organizer in Missouri for Barack Obama’s 2008 presidential campaign allowed him to rediscover his voice. These are edited excerpts from the conversation.

After you attended the Oberlin Conservatory of Music in Ohio, you seemed destined for a career in opera. Then you quit. What happened?

There was a lot of pressure on artists in terms of appearance. The industry cared about things that really had nothing to do with the voice, but with physicality, and that made it difficult for singers of size. It made it easy for me to walk away. I made myself a promise that if it ever stopped being fun, I would do something else. And so I did.

What was it like at the time for singers struggling with concerns about their weight?

People within the industry were able to make comments regarding someone’s physical look with impunity. In other industries, that would not be accepted, but it was almost widely accepted within the classical music world. It felt like it was OK to make fun of people of size and that we weren’t worthy of careers. It was a very difficult time, and it’s still a very difficult time.

What would people say to you?

I’ve had general directors send me email messages complimenting me on my voice and then saying, “Well, when you lose 50 pounds, get in touch with me again, and I’ll give you a live audition.”

How did it feel to hear those comments?

I began to look at rejection in a different way. I used to get a bit down when I received a note like that or just a flat-out refusal about an audition. But I began to use that as fuel to make me want to work even harder — to be an even better vocalist. I thought, “They may not want me right now, but they will need me at some point.”

During your break from classical music, you worked a variety of jobs, eventually starting your own security firm. Did you sing at all, even for your own pleasure — at home, in the shower, at church?

Not really. I was deliberately making the decision not to sing. I just didn’t have the desire. I wasn’t singing that much in church, and I rarely listened to the radio in the car. There wasn’t much going on musically for me during that time. I was just concentrating on this new life that I was trying to build and trying to move forward.

And then, in 2007, when you were 31 and working as a field organizer for the Obama campaign in Missouri, your home state, you got an unexpected chance to perform the national anthem.

We had invited someone to sing the national anthem. And they got cold feet at the last minute and decided they didn’t want to do it. And it happened to be an event that I had invited my boss to attend. And he immediately said, “I remember seeing on your résumé that you used to be an opera singer. Why don’t you sing it?” And I said, “Well, you know, I haven’t sung for a number of years. And the national anthem is not an easy song to sing. I’m not sure I can pull it off.” It was terrifying; it was not something I had practiced or prepared. I did not know what was going to come out.

But he convinced me to do it. And I sang at the event and ended up singing at several other events. And in doing so, I noticed some very interesting changes in my voice. It had taken on a more mature, burnished quality. And it had grown substantially in size. And it really piqued my interest as to the type of repertoire I could possibly sing with this new instrument.

Your returned to the stage five years later, when you were 36, at the National Opera Association’s vocal competition. How did you prepare?

I pulled out my old lesson tapes from the conservatory and began working with those lesson tapes and polishing things, just out of interest to see what the voice could do. And I eventually reached out to a voice teacher in Memphis, Tenn., and began working with her. We realized that we had something that was special — that there wasn’t anyone like me as an artist out there. We were working to rekindle the voice. That’s when I found the joy again in singing.

Was it easy to get back into the business?

It took a good three years or so before that first staged operatic engagement came, and it came because I was posting clips of my singing on YouTube and other platforms and just sharing wherever I could, and reaching out to friends who were still in the industry and letting them know I was back and basically trying to sing for anyone who would hear me.

A friend saw a clip of me singing “Ch’ella mi creda libero e lontano” from Puccini’s “La Fanciulla del West” with my former high school choir director playing the piano. She shared it with her husband, who happened to be the music director of a small opera company in the Seattle area. They invited me to to sing the role of Canio in “Pagliacci.”

You were the first Black singer to perform the role of Radamès at the Met. Do you feel that classical music is doing enough to address racial and ethnic disparities?

As a Black man, I’m usually the only one who looks like me in a rehearsal setting. So there always is a sense of isolation, of not fitting in. You have to learn to work through that and do your job to the best of your ability.

We always seem to have had celebrated Black female voices in the industry, like Jessye Norman, Kathleen Battle, Grace Bumbry and Shirley Verrett. But the list of Black men has always been quite short. There are some in the industry who have difficulty in seeing Black males in romantic leads. We’ve made progress, and we just have to keep pushing forward and breaking down some of these walls.

How did it feel to make your debut at Carnegie Hall?

It was very difficult for me to enjoy it fully. It has been a challenging year for me personally. On May 8, my father passed away. And the following week, after the funeral, I left to get on a plane to prepare for my debut with the Cleveland Orchestra singing the role of Otello. I arrived in New York on Nov. 10 to begin my cover contract with the Met for “Aida.” On Nov. 14, my eldest sister passed away.

It has been an emotional roller coaster for me. One never knows how grief will manifest itself. And grief is a very sneaky thing. And it pops up on you at very odd times, and you never know what’s going to trigger it. I was able to make it through because of the strength of my faith and knowing that my loved ones were in complete support of me and my career and would have wanted me to be where I was.

What did your family say to you after the performance?

My mother walked up to me and gave me a hug and a kiss and said: “God bless you. I’m extremely proud of you.” My oldest brother, whenever I go to perform, he always reminds me to make the family proud. And his response on Friday night was, “That’s how you make us proud.”

Javier C. Hernández is a culture reporter, covering the world of classical music and dance in New York City and beyond. He joined The Times in 2008 and previously worked as a correspondent in Beijing and New York.

A version of this article appears in print on  , Section C, Page 1 of the New York edition with the headline: Shaming Derailed His Career. Order Reprints | Today’s Paper | Subscribe

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