This week we mourn the passing of Luciano Pavarotti.
As happens, I had just finished reading the book his manager wrote about their years together — Herbert Breslin’s The King and I.
Coming to mind particularly at this time was the reason Breslin was hired. Someone told Pavarotti that he was such a nice guy, he needed a mean manager.
Breslin, like most publicists at that time (he was publicist first, later manager), asked for a retainer. He said no one ever paid it. How surprised he was when the checks from Pavarotti arrived every month, like clockwork.
Breslin also admits, somewhat begrudgingly, what all of us in public relations know – that even if you’re the best poromoter on earth, you can only promote what is promotable.
Surely there will not be another Pavarotti in our lifetimes.
The cartoons register the pulse of the world as we mourn the death of Pavarotti. One of them shows St. Peter welcoming Pavarotti to the Pearly Gates, phoning in, “Tell Caruso to take the night off.
Was he the greatest of all tenors? If he was to you, that is what matters.
Another shows the King of the High Cs,...
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