Published on 27/09/2024.
Growing up, music was the cornerstone of my family’s life, and none of it hit harder than the powerful voices of the world’s greatest tenors. My love of opera was passed down like a prized heirloom from my father, Grandad Bill as he was known. It is something I’ve shared with my own son, Lewis. For my Father and me, music was more than just something to which to listen. It was a way of living, of understanding tradition, and of building a bond that spanned generations.
Memories of Music Growing Up
Sunday afternoons were sacred, set aside for ‘opera hour’ at home. The neighbours were enjoying their weekends, blasting out Jim Reeves; meanwhile Grandad Bill would drown them out with the soaring notes of Caruso and Gigli, their voices rising and falling over the hilly street in triumphant display. It was not, however, simply about the music or volume: it was a battle of culture, with opera always winning.
It was, however, Mario Lanza who truly defined my childhood. The man was larger than life, not just a singer, but as a movie star. I can still remember sitting in awe as we watched his films, with The Great Caruso being Grandad Bill’s favourite. For me, nothing beat the magic of Lanza’s The Student Prince and that unforgettable Drinking Song. Those moments were golden: full of laughter, music, and endless admiration.
Bill Brown: the Certainly Not Masked Singer
Grandad Bill was no stranger to singing. Some would say he even had a voice to rival the best. He came tantalisingly close to making it big in the 1950s, reaching the semi-finals of the Carroll Levis and his Discoveries talent show before sadly being edged out by a soul group. That, though, did not stop him; it in fact fueled him. Grandad Bill sang whenever and wherever he could, his voice filling rooms, festivals, and, on one memorable occasion, an entire Italian village.
He performed Santa Lucia at a local festival in Italy, and the crowd were so mesmerised by his dramatic voice and flawless Italian that they mistook him for one of their own. For thirty magical minutes, Grandad Bill was their star, and he basked in their applause and the free drinks that followed. It was not the first time he had impressed Italians in their native tongue, either. During his time as a soldier stationed in Africa, he learned Italian while overseeing prisoners of war. He would sing to them, often performing alongside captives, sharing the beauty of Italian opera with men far from home. Imagine that! – an English soldier and Italian prisoners belting out arias together under the African sky. Music truly knew no boundaries.
Grandad Bill and his Love of Luciano Pavarotti
Luciano Pavarotti came into the picture years later, standing tall as a second to the great Caruso in Grandad Bill’s eyes. Bill Brown knew every word of Pavarotti’s songs: Celeste Aida from Aida, Libiamo ne’ lieti calici from La Traviata, Questa o quella from Rigoletto, and of course, Nessun Dorma from Turandot. He sang them in both English and Italian, often bringing the grandness of the opera house into our living room.
In his golden years, I had the honour of giving him the gift that would stand out as one of our most cherished moments of our shared love of opera. I surprised him with VIP tickets to see Pavarotti live in Birmingham. The look on his face when he realised where we were going was priceless, and the songs we sang on the way there? All of it was nothing short of magical.
Final Thoughts
Grandad Bill may not have had the destiny to make it to the world stage, but in our family and in the community, he was a legend in his own right. His passion for opera and music lives on, passed down through the generations. From Caruso to Pavarotti, these voices – these giants – have left an indelible mark on history and on the Brown family identity.
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