
Beverly Sills passed away on July 2, just four weeks after discovering she had lung cancer. She did more for opera in the United States than any other person – she brought a friendly face and a sparkling personality…not to mention a beautiful high soprano that supported her prodigious gift as an actress. For most opera people of my age, she was an inspiration. I used to keep a photo of Beverly in my wallet as encouragement. There are so many stories of how wonderful Beverly was – and she told the best stories herself, always with her infectious chuckle. I will never forget a Lucia she sang, and I was the hapless Arturo, the one she is forced to marry and stabs to death on their wedding night. Backstage as she prepared for the mad scene, she didn’t feel she had enough blood on her nightgown, so when she saw me, she thought it only appropriate that I splash on “Arturo’s” blood. We got the giggles doing this, and I think we went overboard. She said it was the bloodiest mad scene she ever did. I had the great privilege of performing with Sills in I Puritani, Siege of Corinth, Thais and Traviata and even had a small part in Sills and Burnett at the MET. Then as I went off into my administrative career, we shared the trials and tribulations of running companies. But I’ll always remember her ability to laugh.

The next loss was a deeply personal one for me – my dear friend Jerry Hadley. Jerry and I crossed paths many times over the past 30 years. Much like Beverly, Jerry always had a smile on his face and a joke to tell. In fact, every single thing I’ve seen written about him lately mentions his jokes – usually a bit off color, but hilarious and often told with an accent. My favorite memory is of driving through the Lammermuir hills south of Edinburgh with a car full of opera singers (Jerry Hadley, Fred Burchinal, Erie Mills and Luvenia Garner). We had all been hired to do Lucia in Tulsa later that year and were soaking up local color and history. Many times on that trip I nearly drove off the road as we were howling with laughter at Jerry’s Scottish jokes, told in full brogue.
The last few years were difficult for Jerry. There was his arrest for DUI in New York (the charges were eventually dropped) and he confided in me that he was filing for bankruptcy and was taking medication for depression. He also had some pretty severe family problems stemming from a bad divorce. The last email I got from him, in March, he sounded very depressed, but looking forward to singing in Australia. I told him how loved he was by so many people and how much joy he still had in him — and had coming to him. But I guess those were things he was no longer able to believe. I don’t know what led him to this inescapable despair, to this sense that things were so very bad that they could never, ever get better. I guess we never will know. He left far too many songs unsung. I’ll never forgive him for leaving us so very prematurely. And I’ll never stop missing him.

Among Crespin's important recordings are the Marschallin in Rosenkavalier (with Georg Solti and the Vienna Philharmonic), Berlioz's Les Nuits d'été and Ravel's Shéhérazade (with Ernst Ansermet and the Orchestre de la Suisse Romande), and two different roles in Wagner's Die Walküre: Sieglinde (with Solti and the Vienna) and Brünnhilde (with Herbert von Karajan and the Berlin Philharmonic).
In later life she was a widely respected teacher: She was on the faculty of the Paris Conservatoire from 1976 to 1992 and gave master classes across the world. She was named a Commander of the Order of Arts and Letters by the French government, and a special hybrid rose was created in her honor in 1990.

- The Opera Doc (William Russell, Executive Director)