Marton & Marton Stories: 1979/ Part II

In December 1979, Éva sang the role of Maddalena in the opera Andrea Cheniér with Placido Domingo at the Lyric Opera in Chicago. After the series ended on 16 December, she flew to Manila, the capital of the Philippines, via San Francisco and Hawaii. 


On Tuesday, 18 December, our son Zoli attended the first lesson at school, and then the au pair, claiming illness, picked him up. Janet took the children and luggage to the airport by taxi, I took a taxi from the clinic and met them there. Thank goodness back then, boarding was much smoother than it is now. Together with the kids, we flew from Hamburg (via Frankfurt and Bangkok) to Manila, where we arrived the following day, Wednesday, at 7 pm local time. During the landing, I assisted at the start of labour, which was completed by local paramedics in an ambulance next to the runway. No one was waiting for us at the airport. It was very sultry. So we took a taxi to the hotel Philippine Plaza, where the San Francisco Opera Company was staying. Éva was not there. After they finally found out who we were, they informed us that the artists were housed in the palace. We were transferred to the palace by limousine. There, we were fussed over, and in the meantime, Éva also arrived from rehearsal. There was great joy; Éva was all sunshine, and it was good to see how happy she was. Until the children's luggage was unpacked. Apparently, our female staff back at home thought we were going to the Alps, or goodness knows where, so only winter garments had been packed. Well, I was everything but a sweet husband and a caring father. However, we soon calmed down. The children crashed, and we were happy for each other. The heady scent of flowers – and of Éva – is something I can still remember to this day.


On Thursday, 20 December, breakfast was served at a table nearly 10 metres long, with at least a hundred pounds of fresh tropical fruit piled in the middle, including some we had never seen before. Some are among our favourites even to this date. After breakfast, we were told that everything was ready and we could go shopping for summer clothes for the children. The limousine was ready, a safety car in the front, a safety car in the back; we sped to the designated store with lights and sirens on. Back in New York, our son Zoli said to me the first time we sat together in a stretch limousine that he wondered what it would feel like to be accompanied by a police escort. Well, he really enjoyed it this time. We were driving against traffic on a one-way street, and the policeman in the open jeep in front of us was beating people with a baton to get them out of the way. It was not our world. The smile was freezing on the children's faces, and they fell silent. The store was completely empty, it had been cleared out, with only security people running abound. Éva was accompanied by the owner herself and a few selected shop assistants. We were offered chilled fresh fruit juice, and the goods we asked for were brought to us. Éva simply had to choose what the children needed. Of course, payment was out of the question. The goods were packed up, and by the time the car drove us back, they were already in our suite. After an early lunch, we had a little rest and went to the opera at the Cultural Center of the Philippines. (The Cultural Center of the Philippines was established in 1966 to promote and preserve the best of Filipino arts and culture. Some of the best artists from the country and the world have performed here, captivating Filipinos. the author.)

After the American and Philippine anthems were played, the performance of Tosca began at 5.30 pm. I was seated in the box next to the Marcos couple, with only a few of their closest acquaintances and Domingo's wife, Marta. The performance was excellent, with the Marton–Domingo–Diaz trio giving their best with the San Francisco Opera Orchestra conducted by Kurt Herbert Adler. Afterwards, President Ferdinand Marcos gave a seated dinner for about 1000 people. The president, his immediate court, the conductor, the director, the cast and their relatives were seated in the colossal hall; at the podium, we were facing the crowd of guests. I was seated with the conductor's wife on the left, right at the edge, for which Éva complained to Imelda Marcos. Éva sat to the right of the president. What I remember: despite the crowds and the large room, it was pleasantly cool; in the middle of the room, thousands of bulbs of a vast wooden chandelier were lit - and the air was full of the heady scent of flowers. After a few speeches, half of which I did not understand, dinner was about to begin. I had never seen so many waiters serving simultaneously, and I had the feeling that there was one for every guest. Only after the president had started eating could the others begin; we had been informed of this before dinner. And when he finished, everyone had to stop too. I did not know what the president's appetite was, so – etiquette or no etiquette – I spooned everything as fast as I could. I was hungry, so I did not have much time for socialising. Dinner was finished before midnight. The company continued having fun in the disco of the palace, with about 200-300 invited guests. My wife showed that she could not only sing but also dance. Mrs Marcos kindly offered me to choose of ten gorgeous local beauties dressed in strikingly transparent, absolutely mini white tulle dresses. I didn't think it was such a bad idea, but before I could be seduced, my dearest wife appeared and removed the ten ladies with a queenly gesture. "He has already chosen", she said to Imelda, who, seeing my face, just laughed and laughed. It was already five in the morning, so we slowly made our way home. The disco was on the second floor. The staircase was spiral with a beautiful wooden bannister. Leaving the first floor, Éva felt like sliding down the bannister, as she often did as a child. The eager Minister of War, watching my wife with admiration, immediately offered to catch her downstairs. The little rascal was up to Éva's chest, but he was athletic. It's so typical of Éva: she always puts her thoughts into action. She jumped up on the bannister and started to slide down. The silk dress helped her to speed up, together with the fact that Éva’s figure is anything but skinny. The Minister of War was waiting for her anxiously downstairs. Of course, this all happened very quickly. Éva slid down the railing – straight into the arms of the minister. Well, she crashed into him. The poor guy had to be dug out from under Éva – I guess that was not the position he had in mind – and it is a miracle that they were not hurt, at least according to my first quick medical examination. We returned to our suite. Once again, Éva was proved right: yes, I had already made my choice, and what a good choice that was! Éva received an orchid two heads taller than her from President Marcos as a token of appreciation. 

21 December, Friday: We had a good night's sleep and even managed to get used to the tropical weather. At my request, two small football pitches were precisely put together and even put nets on them so the matches could start. Everyone played: the cast, the crew, the security people, and also my son Zoli and me. After a good game, we took advantage of the swimming pool in the palace, but to the staff, it was not available.

Once, Zoli and I tried to sneak out of the palace to have a look around. Needless to say, the security people caught up with us in time and were almost in tears, asking us not to do this because if something happened to us, they were finished. We could tell they were not joking. So we remained in the gilded cage. In the evening, a reception was hosted for the company by Her Excellency, the US Ambassador. A lovely photograph keeps the memory of the four ladies, Mrs. Marcos, the US Ambassador, Éva and Diana, alive. There would have been one more reception, but we cancelled it because of the following day's performance. Instead, we played a game of hide and seek with the staff and the kids and then went to bed after a light dinner. The following day, 22 December, was spent playing football and swimming, while Éva rested as much as she could. The second Tosca performance started at 6.30 pm. This time, I had to sit with Mrs Marcos in their box.   She was about 170 cm tall and a charming woman, indeed. Imelda married Ferdinand Marcos in 1954 and became First Lady in 1965 when her husband was elected president of the Philippines. She ordered the construction of many grandiose architectural projects and was a lively supporter of cultural life. This included the premiere of Tosca in Manila. The box was protected by several inches of bulletproof, transparent armour glass. Being relatively tall, my head was sticking out. Almost instinctively, I slid down the seat. "Are you afraid?", she asked, laughing. "No, I'm just not bulletproof", I replied. Then, without warning, she showed the bullet wounds from assassinations on her arm. During the interval, a young man in jeans came into the V.I.P. room, by chance or deliberately, and went straight to ImeldaImage removed.. Well, I could unveil what I was capable of, that I wasn't a sissy either. Once the order was restored, Imelda changed completely; she rebuked the security people and her high-ranking escorts in a tone that made my skin crawl. "You said you were afraid," she said to me as we were sitting in her box again, but now the beauty was back again and not the sovereign. "No, I just don't like being helplessly vulnerable”, I replied. She took a long, wordless look, and I slipped behind the armoured glass again. The second act was about to begin. After the performance, Mrs Marcos hosted a reception in the magical park of the palace. After a while, a young man came up to me. He addressed me in Hungarian, introducing himself as a staff member of a neighbouring embassy. He praised the performance and then, abruptly, asked me whether I, the diva’s husband, was really a German professor of surgery, as it was mentioned at an American press conference. "First of all, I'm Hungarian, and secondly, although I work in a German surgical clinic I’m only a head physician. I suppose it was a kind of American promotional practice. Neither I nor my wife could say such a thing." "It's interesting, and tell me, regarding what happened during the interval, where did you get your combat training?" "You are really curious", I answered. "I was trained back in the military, in the Border Patrol, and since then, I've been refreshing this skill privately from time to time. Otherwise, I play football and tennis regularly. If you have further questions, please write to the San Francisco Opera press office. I wish you a pleasant evening!" and by having said so, I left with a friendly smile. I never saw the young man again, and the press office did not receive any further written questions. I do not know whose service this person was at the time, but I did not care. 

Sunday 23 December: we had a good swim before breakfast, and then, guided by Mrs Marcos, we were taken by a German bus to a youth cultural centre, and we spent the entire morning there. We watched various performances of the youngsters, participated in games and folk customs, and then had lunch together. We returned to Manila early in the afternoon for a sightseeing tour. From our bus, Imelda showed us various sights and explained their stories. In the meantime, Éva was rehearsing excerpts from La Forza del Destino for the concert. 

 

On Monday morning, 24 December, Éva and her colleagues were rehearsing again the excerpts from La Forza del Destino. After lunch, we swam in the pool and rested. In the evening, everyone, even those not staying with us, came over to celebrate Christmas with the children. The giant plastic Christmas tree was decorated and shining in all its glory. After dinner, we gathered around it, singing Christmas carols – each in their own language – certainly without me because I, thank God, have only hearing but zero voice. We played with the children and even had enough for small gifts. The team was from several countries. It was a real cosy, peaceful, international Christmas, not to be forgotten. 

On 25 December, we rested and prepared for the concert. They performed excerpts from La Forza del Destino at the Open-Air Auditorium in Rizal Park from 5 pm. José Rizal was a nationalist, writer, and poet who achieved independence for the Philippines in 1896 against the Spanish Kingdom. The huge 140-hectare park was named in his honour, and a monument to him was also erected in the middle of the park, which is also considered the zero point in the Philippines. The performance, which was free of charge, attracted 25-30,000 spectators. Our children sat separately in the middle of the front row, with President Marcos and Imelda to their right in the ring of security personnel. I was helping Éva backstage so she wouldn't have any problems. Hydration was critical because the heat and humidity were unbearable. The stage where the orchestra and the singers worked was covered. The air was almost stagnant. Despite this, the Marton–Giacomini–Diaz team, conducted by Kurt Herbert Adler, once again excelled. They were not bothered by even the countless security people running about – even watching from the top of the stage – or the meowing of stray cats. The audience really liked the performance. After the performance, the Marcos couple hosted a dinner reception for the company and gave a generous gift to all participants. The following day, we rested, swam, and played football with the staff and the artists open for that. The third Tosca was performed on 27 December. As the Domingo couple had left after the second performance, Giacomini sang this evening again. And I was there listening to this performance behind the armoured glass again, sitting next to Mrs Marcos. 

Before we left, Imelda showed the children around the First Palace and the Great Hall with its giant carved wooden chandelier. She asked us to stay, finding it difficult to understand that I would be on duty on New Year's Eve. “Our beloved doctor, take care of your family, and we’ll see each other again in New York at the Gioconda premiere", she said in parting.

The whole staff was allowed to escort us to the plane. We bid them a fond farewell, they were sorry to see us go because, as they said, the following state delegation was not going to be anywhere near as friendly as we are. The plane of the Philippine Airlines was delayed for 1 ½ hours due to this special guided tour by Imelda. We flew first class, of course, and the children were asleep even after dinner. Our first stop was Bangkok, from where we flew on to Frankfurt after a relatively long wait.

We landed in the cold Hamburg on 29 December at noon. The customs officer immediately spotted the gift, a wooden carved chest, which was not small at all. All we knew was that it was a special gift from the Marcos couple. " Where have you come from?" "From Manila" "What's inside?" "Gifts, gifts from the Marcos couple "Are you kidding? "No, why would I joke!?" “Open it!” I fished the key that came with the lock and opened the box. 


Right at the top was a framed picture of the Marcos couple with the following text: "To Eva and Zoltan with Love Imelda and Ferdinand Marcos". After seeing in our passports that one of us was Éva and the other Zoltán, he realised that our answer was most probably true. "Thank you, go, goodbye." 

It was only when we unpacked the chest at home that we saw that there was plenty to be declared. First, two watches, a Chopard – 21 Happy Diamond for Éva, a sporty Cartier for me (sidenote: Éva still wears it), two cherry-sized pearl earrings and a ring of the same size for Éva, and a gold-plated desk clock for me, with a profile of Mrs Marcos on the dial every thirty seconds. It's still here in front of me, even though it no longer works. We also received a silver woven basket with a bouquet of shells and a bathroom set made of shells. But the chest also contained various national weavings, tablecloths, very thin bamboo fabric for shirts, and a picture of Imelda and Ferdinand Marcos signed to us in a shell frame. 

At dinner, we were busy with our experiences. To my statement that it was an unforgettable, fairytale-like experience, but far from reality for us, five-year-old Diana quietly commented: "Yes, Papa, but I've never seen so many poor people either." She was right.

The reality was that I had a working day and duty on 31 December, and Éva had to go to Rome on 2 January, where she sang Tosca, conducted by Daniel Oren. So the New Year's Eve party was cancelled. 

Excerpt from my diary and my book "In the Service of the Empress Vol. 1 and 2".

photos: private archive

translation: dr. Gyöngyvér Bozsik                                                                                   

                                                                                Dr. Zoltán G. Marton