How many of us have friends in high places? Sure, there might be that top-flight donor to the arts, or the head of a multimillion-dollar restaurant empire, but how about someone even loftier? In 1989, Luciano Pavarotti was scheduled to sing in Donizetti’s L’Elisir d’Amore at the Academy of Music. As Dan Rottenberg wrote in the Broad Street Review, cracks were noticed in the ceiling of the venerable Academy only hours before the opera was to begin. The building was immediately closed, halting the performance.
Pavarotti was determined that the show go on, and a Philadelphia landmark in Logan Square caught his eye: the Cathedral Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul. That said, Donizetti’s frothy comedy would hardly have been suitable for a Catholic sanctuary. Approval would be needed from Philadelphia’s archbishop, who was away and unreachable. WRTI’s Mike Bolton, a singer at the time, recalls Pavarotti saying: “Hold on, let me call the Pope.”
The tenor and the pontiff had history together. As Pavarotti said in a 1979 interview with Studs Terkel, he sang “Ave Maria” for Pope John Paul II on multiple occasions. While we may never be able to verify the opera star’s long-distance phone call to the Vatican, we know the result: a line of 2,000 people waiting outside the cathedral in the rain, and a concert that, as Rottenberg recalls, was “a glimpse not merely of what theater and opera could be, but of what Philadelphia and even the world could be.”
Eventually the illustrious tenor would grow to be recognized by millions, including many outside the classical music ecosphere. But in addition to his many engagements at The Metropolitan Opera, La Scala, the Royal Opera House in London and elsewhere, Pavarotti spent a significant amount of time in the City of Brotherly Love. It’s possible that Philadelphia was on the tenor’s radar even earlier: in his youth he idolized Mario Lanza, whose career has been honored by an institute and museum in South Philly.
One Philadelphian who helped foster Pavarotti’s connection with the city was a former department store buyer named Giovanna Cavaliere. During an interview with her several years ago, Bolton uncovered a story that likely hasn’t been told. In the 1960s, her father Joseph was the orchestra manager for the Philadelphia Lyric Opera Company (the forerunner of Opera Philadelphia), working with the company’s conductor and artistic director, Aurelio Fabiani, who joined the Cavalieres every Sunday for family dinner.
On one occasion, Fabiani described an Australian production of Lucia di Lammermoor with Joan Sutherland, and mentioned “a wonderful young tenor” who would be making his Met debut in 1968, but due to bookings, was unable to commit to a Philadelphia appearance until a few years later. (WRTI will feature a recording of another Sutherland-and-Pavarotti production from ‘68, Donizetti’s La fille du régiment, for our Opera Day broadcast on Nov. 8.)
When Pavarotti finally arrived in Philadelphia, Giovanna was a buyer for Lit Brothers, the department store formerly located in an iconic building at 8th and Market Streets. Fabiani asked if she would do him a favor and assist the 36-year-old tenor, who was staying at the Bellevue Hotel. Cavaliere loved opera, and more importantly, she spoke Italian, so she agreed to meet, and became the tenor’s informal (and unpaid) right hand. His first Philadelphia appearance was in 1971 in La bohème, followed by I Puritani with Beverly Sills. As his fame grew, the tenor continued to lean on Cavaliere, who became part of an informal team with Herbert Breslin, Pavarotti’s manager, and Terry McEwen of London Records, both of whom viewed Philadelphia as a testing ground prior to performances elsewhere in the country.
In 1979, Pavarotti appeared at Robin Hood Dell West (now the Mann Center) in Tosca, which by all accounts was a success, despite another bout of rain. A few nights later he returned for a recital with the hometown heroine and operatic wonder Marian Anderson, resulting in a headline from the Philadelphia Daily News, “Philadelphia Goes Wild Over Pavarotti,” and reports of the audience “throwing flowers on the stage and shouting requests from the balconies.”
Cavaliere was happy just to be in the tenor’s orbit, and received no salary for her efforts. That changed in 1984, when she was in the audience for his concert at Madison Square Garden. Afterward he told her: “My secretary is leaving. Come work for me.” She resigned from her department store buyer’s job.
From the 1970s through the 1990s, Pavarotti appeared often in Philadelphia, where as David Patrick Stearns of The Philadelphia Inquirer noted, he was “particularly beloved by South Philadelphia’s tenor-loving Italian community.” In the 1980s, the Opera Company of Philadelphia hosted the Luciano Pavarotti International Voice Competition multiple times. In a 1985 article by Tim Page for The New York Times, the tenor explained, “Philadelphia has a glorious operatic tradition, and the Academy of Music may be the most beautiful building in America.''
However, the competition, while not without virtues, turned into a bit of an albatross for the company now known as Opera Philadelphia. Due to the singer’s naturally exuberant and generous spirit, he would declare dozens of contestants as winners, with each being entitled to appear with him onstage. The logistics weren’t exactly feasible.
Many of those singers, such as soprano Deborah Voigt and tenor Roberto Alagna, went on to international careers. One of the 1981 winners, soprano Susan Dunn, joined Pavarotti in 1986 for an all-star Verdi Requiem at the Spectrum Arena, with mezzo-soprano Ildikó Komlosi, bass Paata Burchuladze, three choirs, and The Philadelphia Orchestra, all conducted by Lorin Maazel.
Another singer was just 14 years old when Pavarotti invited him to perform during the 1996 competition: Anthony Roth Costanzo, now president and general director of Opera Philadelphia. In a 2018 interview for Opera America, Costanzo recalls his role as a shepherd boy in Tosca, and Pavarotti welcoming the young countertenor onstage for a bow at the conclusion.
Pavarotti also shared a long friendship with Riccardo Muti, former conductor of The Philadelphia Orchestra, and appeared often in concerts at the Academy of Music. One of their most notable successes was a 1993 recording of Pagliacci, with another starry cast, including Daniela Dessì, Juan Pons, Paolo Coni, and Ernesto Gavazzi.
It will come as no surprise that the tenor had a great love for food, and as Cavaliere recalled, he loved to cook, partially to avoid being recognized at local restaurants. In Philadelphia, he often stayed at the Rittenhouse Hotel, long a favorite of prominent musicians and other celebrities. In his honor, the hotel dedicated room 1306 as the Pavarotti Suite (now listed as the Chairman’s Suite), stocked with his favorite snacks and some of his kitchen utensils. (For those inclined to cook in his footsteps, his favorite dish was spaghetti al pesto.)
Aside from his operatic success, the tenor’s well-publicized non-musical woes paint a portrait of a great talent with indubitably human flaws, from girlfriends to tax issues. As his wife and film producer, Nicoletta Mantovani, notes in Pavarotti, director Ron Howard’s sensitively assembled 2019 documentary, “Luciano was completely conscious of the fact that he received a great gift from God, not just in opera, but everything else in life. It gave him purpose. But it was also a burden.”
In researching this article, some prospective sources politely demurred, praising the voice but citing aspects of his offstage behavior. As Stearns attested, the illustrious tenor was “a glittery presence known to create chaos in his wake.” But others offered snapshots that underline the singer’s essential humanity.
Another 1989 casualty of the structural woes of the Academy of Music was Verdi’s Luisa Miller, which was moved to the nearby Merriam Theater (now the Miller). Greg Cantwell, a chorus member in the production, recalled that the star was not happy with the theater’s small dressing rooms. Cantwell’s son was in the children’s chorus, and at one point he wandered near Pavarotti’s open door. Knowing the tenor was likely not in the best of moods due to the cramped quarters, Cantwell quickly moved to pull his son away, but Pavarotti insisted that he enter, and placed him on his lap for a photo.
On October 12, 2025, the tenor would have marked his 90th birthday. His colleague, soprano Carol Vaness, described his voice as “heaven on earth — you could count molecules, it was so clear.” As time passes, his recordings are indelible reminders of his gifts, and as fans worldwide treasure memories of his appearances, the City of Brotherly Love can claim its own deep, empathetic connection. As Cavaliere reminisced, “Whether in music or at the table, Luciano was a very humble man. He always gave you whatever he had.”
