RIP Diva Sheila Nadler, Daisy’s Friend
Sheila Nadler (Ida! to her closest friends) passed away on June 25 at the age of 82 having avoided salad her entire life. I knew the end was near when even a large bag of Reese’s peanut butter cups failed to rouse the usual smile of delight. Her favorite meal consisted of two helpings of mac and cheese washed down by a tall glass of vodka with very little ice. Tuna melt would do in a pinch. Astonishingly, she never got large.
In-between meals she sang gloriously in the deep voice of a contralto. Her repertoire ranged from crazy Klytaemnestra in “Elektra” to the dying Old Prioress in “Dialogues of the Carmelites” and the cannibal witch in “Hansel and Gretel.” Sheila’s red hair, rich voice and silent film mannerisms were noted and encouraged by none other than Maria Callas during her famous masterclasses held at Juilliard 1971-72. “You got to have a look,” said she.
Early studies with another great diva Rosa Ponselle led to appearances in San Francisco, Houston, La Scala in Milan, London’s Covent Garden, the Metropolitan Opera, Seattle, Tel Aviv and such exotic locals as Santiago and St. Louis. She especially loved France, spoke a fluent variant of French, and appeared to great acclaim in Montpellier, Bordeaux, Lyon, Toulouse, and at the Opera Bastille in Paris. She sang Wagner, Strauss, Verdi, Janacek, Mussorgsky, Alfano, Poulenc and Marlene Dietrich. All along, she avoided singing in Germany and stayed close to her Jewish family, especially her niece Irene.
On occasion she learned new music. At the world premiere in Brussels in 1991 of John Adams’s “The Death of Klinghoffer,” she brought memorable pathos to Marilyn Klinghoffer, whose husband was murdered and tossed overboard in his wheelchair from a cruise ship by Palestinian hijackers. She deplored the work’s bland title.
At Santa Fe in 1995, she made us laugh as John Ruskin’s bossy mom in David Lang’s “Modern Painters” for which I wrote the libretto. Probably the only meal she ever cooked was a soupy fish mess inspired by her aria, “Stewed Trout! Stewed Trout! Just for John!’’ She hoped to reprise the role at the Glimmerglass Festival in Cooperstown, but over the years many exes, friends and colleagues peeled away.
She could laugh at herself. “What happened to my high note?” she would gasp -- remembering a historic concert of “La Gioconda” at Carnegie Hall in which a high G proved fugitive. Melodramatically weaving around the piano at my apartment as La Cieca (a Blind Senior) Sheila would reprise “Voce di Donna” topped off by a shriek. Waaah!
Dementia was only slowly diagnosed since one of her big acts was the demented diva. She gradually stopped rereading her favorite Alice Hoffman novels and biographies of the Sapphic poets of early twentieth century Paris. She forgot the passwords to her many email accounts.
Sheila loved dogs and cats and taxied often to see her beagle friends on CPW just twenty-two blocks away (unsurprisingly she hated to walk). Mugzie, Minnie, Daisy, Mellie and Hattie would shriek and bellow with delight as she made an entrance laden with treats in pockets, bags and on occasion her bosom. Daisy was her favorite. She would sing her version of the “Thumbelina” song on their brief outings: “Thumbelina, Thumbelina, Tiny Little Feet. Pitter-Patter-Pitter-Patter Down the Busy Street.” Mostly they sat on the sofa eating cookies. When Daisy predeceased her on April 30, I did not tell her. Read Daisy’s obit here.
And now Fricka has taken her tootsies over the rainbow bridge and on to Valhalla. Auf wiedersehen!
Donations may be made to The Humane Society in honor of Sheila and Daisy Mae and to the ACC in memory of Mugzie (described as “senior and obese” in the seductive adoption listing).
Manuela (Mani-Banani), Irene (Fargo), Anny and Benny, Marilyn (Popcorn), Lana, Olga and the Velveetas.
