Mischief Makers: Florence Foster Jenkins

Episode Summary

Florence Foster Jenkins was a New York socialite and amateur opera singer in the early 20th century. Though born to a wealthy family in Pennsylvania, her dreams of becoming a concert pianist were dashed when her father forbid her from pursuing music. She later contracted syphilis from her first husband, which required her to take toxic treatments that caused permanent hair loss. After inheriting money from her father, Florence moved to New York City where she immersed herself in the social scene and founded a music club. She began taking singing lessons and putting on elaborate vocal recitals, accompanied by pianist Cosme McMoon. However, Florence was a notoriously awful singer, unable to hit notes properly and squawking her way through difficult operatic arias. Her audiences concealed their laughter at her poor singing through enthusiastic applause. In 1944, Florence performed a sold-out show at Carnegie Hall. The performance was met with scathing reviews commenting on Florence's lack of vocal ability. Though crushed by the criticism, Florence maintained that no one could say she didn't sing. She died shortly after from a heart attack at age 76. Today, she is remembered as an oddball figure who confidently pursued her passion for music, despite her lack of talent.

Episode Show Notes

Florence Foster Jenkins (1868-1944) was an opera singer that drew massive crowds for her terrible voice.

Episode Transcript

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From Wonder Media Network, I'm Jenny Kaplan and this is Wamanica. This month we're talking about mischief makers, oddballs, chameleons, and nonconformists, queens of quick wit. Today our story takes us to New York City, October of 1944. It was the morning after a beloved New York opera singer's first ever sold-out performance at Carnegie Hall. The reviews were starting to roll in. The New York Sun read, It was largely a recital without voice, for the tones Madame Jenkins produced were tiny to the point of disappearing. Earl Wilson of the New York Post wrote, She can sing anything but notes. Critics were in consensus. She was the worst singer they'd ever heard. Let's meet Florence Foster Jenkins. ["The Way You Are"] Florence was born on July 19th, 1868 to a wealthy family in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. As a child, her musical talents were treated as anything but a joke. She was considered a prodigy on the piano and even performed at the White House as a young girl. Her admirers affectionately called her Little Miss Foster, but her dreams of becoming a concert pianist were shattered as a teenager. Her father forbade her from pursuing a music career. Heartsick and indignant, Florence eloped with a man nearly twice her age, Dr. Frank Jenkins. The marriage was disastrous and ended after three years, though Florence kept Frank's surname after their separation. Frank also gave Florence syphilis, which stayed with Florence for the rest of her life. In the early 20th century, it was still an incurable condition. Florence was forced to take regular doses of mercury and arsenic to manage the disease. The treatment caused permanent hair loss, leaving Florence in wigs. When Florence's father died in 1909, he left behind a sizable inheritance. Florence and her mother used the money to move to New York City. Florence then wiggled her way into polite society by joining dozens of social clubs. She loved to serve as chairman of music, which allowed her to put on lavish musical productions. In 1917, Florence founded her own Verdi Club, which soon boasted more than 400 members. She was helped by the failed British actor, St. Clair Bayfield, who became Florence's longtime agent and alleged common-law husband. He helped organize her various concerts and social engagements in New York City. At some point, Florence had suffered an arm injury that made it almost impossible to play piano, but her love of music never wavered, so she thrust herself into singing lessons, determined to reveal herself as a true operatic talent. Florence certainly was a revelation. Even before she opened her mouth to sing, she commanded attention with her elaborate, star-spangled garments. ["The Little Mermaid"] She put on vocal recitals at the Ritz-Carlton that featured ornate sets and multiple costume changes. She was especially fond of showering her audience members with flowers as she belted out arias. But the true attraction was Florence's voice. It wasn't just that she was a bad singer. It was that she insisted on performing some of the most difficult operatic pieces ever composed, songs even the most well-trained sopranos would struggle with. When you listen to a recording of Florence's singing, you can't help but crack a smile. She squawks. Her voice quivers. Her high notes are ear-splitting. And her contemporary audience reacted the same way, though they concealed their amusement. Her composer and accompanist Cosme McMoon later explained, whenever she came to a particularly excruciating discord, where they had to laugh, they burst into these salvos of applause and whistles. SPEAKER_02: And the noise was so great they could laugh at liberty. This coordinated effort to hide the reality of Florence's awful singing helped encourage her to grander heights. In 1941, Florence made a vanity record at a studio in Midtown. When she arrived in the booth, she did a test recording of Queen of the Night from the Magic Flute. SPEAKER_02: To the operator's astonishment, she declared her performance perfect and refused to do another take. Unsurprisingly, her first record sold out, and Florence felt compelled to make a second. But Florence's most daring feat was the Carnegie Hall performance. Word had spread around the city of the oblivious opera singer, and her night in the Grand Hall sold out in mere hours. On the night of October 25, 1944, roughly 2,000 people packed into the venue. Among the crowd were stars like Cole Porter and actress Tallulah Bankhead. Through Florence's many arias, onlookers were huge grins and struggled to contain their cackles. Dancer and actress Marge Champion later confessed, "'We had sore muscles in our stomachs the next day "'as we laughed so hard and so long.'" When Florence flung her roses toward the front rows during the finale, the audience demanded an encore. But the next morning, devastation hit the newsstands. St. Clair Bayfield told a reporter that Florence was crushed upon reading the biting reviews. He sighed, "'She did not know, you see.'" Florence suffered a heart attack only a few days after the infamous performance. She died about a month later, on November 26, 1944. She was 76 years old. Today, Florence is fondly remembered as both a hilarious footnote in music history and a figure of inspiration. Experts have debated whether she was aware of her lack of talent or actually oblivious. But her confidence in her abilities and determination to follow her lifelong passion for music were impressive either way. In the final days of her life, after digesting the negative reviews, Florence declared, "'Some may say that I couldn't sing, "'but no one can say that I didn't sing.'" All month, we're talking about Mischief Makers. For more information, check us out on Facebook and Instagram, at Wamanica Podcast. Special thanks to Liz Kaplan, my favorite sister and co-creator. Talk to you tomorrow. SPEAKER_05: Now is the time to flex your footprint. With T-Mobile for Business and the nation's largest 5G network, inspiration can strike from virtually anywhere. So whether you're in the office, on the road, or on your PT, not quite O, you'll be ready for the next big thing. After all, if geography doesn't limit your business, your network shouldn't either. Learn more at T-Mobile.com slash now. SPEAKER_06: Do you hear it? The clock is ticking. It's time for the new season of 60 Minutes. The CBS News Sunday Night tradition is back for its 56th season with all new big name interviews, hard-hitting investigations, and epic adventures. No place, no one, no story is off limits, and you'll always learn something new. It's time for 60 Minutes. New episode airs Sunday, September 24th on CBS and streaming on Paramount+. 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