The one real singing role among these non-principals is that of Jake Wallace, the minstrel, which was first heard in the beautiful basso cantante of Andrés de Segurola. His song sets the tone for everything that follows among the miners in this act. In ’61,the Met offered Ezio Flagello, who, like Tozzi and Zaccaria, possessed a bass voice of major quality and quantity. In 2018, the episode had almost none of its wonted effect, so there was not emotional event to set the sequence in motion. After Wallace, the most important parts are Nick, the bartender; Ashby, the Wells-Fargo agent; Sonora, who quarrels with Rance over Minnie in Act 1 and rallies support for Minnie and Johnson in Act 3; and Larkens, for whose homesickness the miners take up their collection. These roles all have important functions to play in establishing mood and attitude, or in conveying information. They tend to be written in the lower-to-middle ranges of their voice types, and with nothing particularly ear-grabbing in the setting of their lines, they need to fulfill their tasks through voices of presence and recognizable timbre, as well as with personality and acting. To take them up in order:

Nick: It is a mistake to cast this part with a typical Italian comprimario tenor voice. Nick presides over the room in Act 1; his scene with Rance opens Act 3. In the Florence and Milan performances, Franco Ricciardi and ubercomprimario Piero di Palma are of high competence, yet don’t establish much about the character. The current placeholder, Carlo Bosi, scarcely leaves a trace. In the 60s, the Met had two secondary house tenors with warm, sizable voices of distinctive quality, Paul Franke and Charles Anthony. Franke, a fine Cassio and David, was the regular as Nick. I cannot really tell you much about his 1929 counterpart, Giordano Paltrinieri, except that he was for many years a house go-to in comprimario roles. In 1910, though, the Nick was Albert Reiss. His main legacy, unfortunately, is a characterful but quavery Siegfried in Act 1 excerpts with Melchior recorded very late in his career. At the Met in the ’00s and ’10s, though, he was almost invariable in the more important German character parts (Mime, David, Jaquino, Monostatos, et al.), as well as a frequent Beppe and Remendado. It has to have been a voice of presence.

Ashby: Now: at the performance I attended, the bass James Creswell made his debut as Ashby, and in this company made a good impression, with a presence of some stature and a promising voice. Then: Norman Scott, a frequent second-cast Ramfis, Colline, Commendatore, etc. And farther back: in ’29, Good Heavens, Tancredi Pasero, one of the three top Italian bassos of the interwar times (the others: Pinza and De Angelis), and at the 1910 premiere, Good Heavens again, the great Polish bass Adamo Didur.

Sonora: Now: Michael Todd Simpson, who has had some important assignments in recent seasons, all of which I have missed. There was nothing really wrong with his Sonora, except for its generic quality. In the early ’60s run, we had Clifford Harvuot, also not a master of characterization, but with a larger, warmer, steadier voice. Concerning Everett Marshall, the ’29 Sonora, my only direct evidence is his recording of a terminally silly song, “Mr. and Missis Sippi,” whereon he sounds like a top-flight American show baritone with a ringing top—John Raitt with a bigger voice. At the Met, he sang some Silvios and Lohengrin Heralds. In 1910, though, this role was taken by Dinh Gilly, a leading Met baritone (Di Luna, Amonasro, Alfio, Silvio, Valentin, etc.) who left some fine recordings of French arias, and actually sang Rance in the first London Fanciullas.