Chapter 19Milan, 1926
April 25—it was the eleventh anniversary of the World War I Battle of Gallipoli, Toscanini knew. It was also the day when Turandot would be born at last on the world stage, having its premiere that evening at La Scala. The maestro knew what few others did—not even his wife, Carla, and daughter Wanda, who were busy bustling about the villa, preening for the big event, Cappuccino barking at their heels. Why did it take women so long to select an outfit, then reject it for another and another before returning to the first?
Toscanini’s tails had been laid out by his valet for hours. Now as he dressed, he thought about what he would say on this momentous occasion. Indeed, he was more concerned about his choice of words than he was about the performance itself. He knew th
