CubaPLUS Magazine

On the distant night of June 13, 1920, passers-by on the Paseo del Prado in Havana saw the full-speed run of a gentleman dressed in the clothing of an ancient Egyptian general -Radamés- whom, however, no one was chasing him.

That strange subject was nothing less than the extraordinary Neapolitan opera singer Enrico Caruso, who on the night of that day closed a successful season of performances in the Cuban capital, with the presentation of the immortal Aída, by Giuseppe Verdi, at the then National Theater,today Great Theater Alicia Alonso.

Preceded by great worldwide fame, fully justified due to the power of his voice, full of nuances and great beauty, the season had been fascinating for lovers of bel canto in Cuba, who were already many in the capital at that time. Caruso starred in a program of 10 presentations and paid for at least 10,000 dollars each, while the cost of a seat was 25 Cuban pesos, high for the time.

However, in the theater, there was no room for so many enthusiastic spectators. And suddenly, when the divo finished the second scene of the first act, a small bomb or a firecracker exploded, which sounded loud, and thunderous. Although surprised and uneasy, the audience remained in their seats, something that could not be achieved behind the scenes, where the great artist and some musicians were filled with fear and began to run briskly towards the street.

Others, more serene, left with greater equanimity, of course, those of the Opera with their Egyptian dresses. And in the middle of that run, someone asked: And the divo, where is Mr. Caruso? for he was no longer inside the theater. He was speeding towards the nearby Sevilla Hotel, where he was staying.

That day, Verdi's long-awaited Triumphal March turned into a vulgar mad race, after an event whose authors could never be determined. At least that's been said. There has been much speculation about that unforgettable, for more than one reason, stay of Caruso in Havana, and some rumored that the great tenor seriously feared for his life, thinking that the mafia from his native land had come to the Caribbean to settle an account with him.

The Cuban author, Mayra Montero, wrote a fictional novel (Like your messenger), published by Letras Cubanas, in which she recreates the events, giving it a delicious tint of mystery and love, among other seasonings.