Tenor Barry McCauley’s passing received little notice in the press, although many in the opera world felt it should have been a front page event. This was possibly because he’d been sick for four years, enough time for people to forget that audiences loved him, and that singers all over the world—from beginners to seasoned performers—were glad to see his name on a cast list for many years. Everyone knew that rehearsals would be a lot of fun with Barry around and that the standard of performances would be higher. Soprano Faith Esham remembers how he helped her through several brand new roles; he was one of those singers who made other singers glad they’d chosen opera as a career.
Internationally renowned bass-baritone Michael Devlin remembers a performance he did with Barry in Aix-en-Provence—a venue notorious for ill treatment of foreign singers. The performances were going wonderfully, yet the French disliked the fact that the cast was American and British. Every night, the audiences booed instead of clapping. As the cast became increasingly upset, submitting to either tears or fury, Barry would rally them: “Don’t worry about this! Let’s go get a drink!” On the third night, the conductor, Sir John Pritchard, suggested that if the audience continued to boo after the second bow, the third bow should be taken with everyone facing upstage! Sure enough, the boo-ing continued and the bows were taken as planned. The ‘moon bow’ was greeted by stunned silence, whereupon the cast linked arms and walked offstage chatting!
Barry was always ready to have a good time. Whether he was in the leading role, making several thousand a performance, or covering another singer, he was just happy to be onstage. One night, early in his career, he was covering a famous tenor as Faust. The tenor didn’t feel like singing, so told everyone he was ill. He would do the staging but wanted his cover, Barry, to sing. Barry casually leaned against the proscenium and tossed off the difficult role with a gorgeous tone. After the first scene, to no one’s surprise, the leading tenor miraculously recovered. He wasn’t about to let this young tenor outshine him!
But tragedy struck about four years ago. Suddenly, Barry’s perfect voice started to crack. He endured a lot of criticism from teachers and other singers, who all told him it was a technical problem. Teachers would advise him they could fix it in a few lessons. Before long, he was having to turn down jobs.
As Michael Devlin put it, “In our field, you can sound ugly, tight, too quiet or too loud and still have a career, but cracking is just considered unforgivable. All the advice Barry was receiving sounded strange to me, for I knew his technique was sound. He had always been able to go on, no matter if he was sick, exhausted, or hung-over! I remember thinking, ‘something is organically wrong.’ But if it was difficult for me, it was a nightmare for him. Finally he had to quit singing, for he was having trouble breathing. He visited many doctors who could find nothing wrong—but they never took a chest x-ray. It was many years before they found a tumor on the pulmonary artery. This was what had been causing the vocal trouble all along. It is hard to comprehend that he went from singing lead roles all over Europe in the early 90s to stocking shelves at A&P. It is yet another reminder that there is no safety net for someone at our level. There’s no union backing. It is feast or famine.”
The opera world has lost a wonderful singer. Singers have lost a valuable stage ally and friend. Our condolences go to his wife of thirty years, Deborah, and their two children, Bryan of San Diego and Meghan of Newark, Delaware, and to all who have known and loved working with him.
