Joanne’s love affair with music, she always said, began when she first heard her cousin Tommy O’Leary sing opera in her living room when she was a child. And Joanne was as mesmerized by Tommy’s personal story as much as his singing.
It seems that Tommy, while still a young man, went to work for Mrs. Paul’s Kitchens, a frozen seafood company in Manayunk, a riverfront neighborhood in Philadelphia not far from where Joanne grew up in Miquon. According to Joanne, “One day while working, Tommy had a tragic accident and lost one of his hands in a fish processing machine. He would not be able to work anymore. Edward J. Piszek, the founder of Mrs. Paul’s, was so sorry about the accident that he offered to pay for Tommy to go to any kind of school that Tommy chose. To the surprise of his family and his employer, Tommy said he wanted to be trained in classical voice – he wanted to sing Opera!”
Thomas W. O’Leary pursued opera training, and became a professional tenor, singing lead roles with dozens of opera companies and performing recitals with symphonies all over the country. As Joanne’s family frequently noted, this Irish tenor once gave a private recital for Pope John Paul II. Early on in his career, he frequently showed up at the Wright home with opera recordings, and he would sing along with leading operatic stars as the record played. “My first recollection of live music was Tommy singing the incomparable aria, “Nessun Dorma,” from Puccini’s opera, “Turandot,” on a recording by Swedish tenor Jussi Björling. His beautiful, strong voice filled our house. I was just a little kid, sitting on the stairs looking down, and hearing something I did not even know existed! I couldn’t budge – I had to hear him sing! It still gives me goose bumps when I hear it.”
With music appreciation grounded in her youth, Joanne’s writing reveals her lifelong encounters and respect for music and musicians – expressed through poetry and narrative.
- Introduction by Margaret O. Kirk from Real, True Things: A Collection From a Writer's Life by Joanne W. Iverson. Selected writings by Joanne in this book, from a chapter called "Encounters with Music," appear below. SING TO ME
All the songs have been written
All the stories have been told
All the feelings that they conjure
Have been felt from of old.
But the songs when you sing them
Seem to tell me something new
And the feelings that they give me
Take my breath away with you.
CAESAR
One night when we were at Santiago’s Grill for dinner, a man entered the restaurant. He humbly approached our table, old guitar in hand. “Would you like to hear something by Pedro Flores?” Tall, gaunt, dark skin, clean white shirt, black pants, not young, no front teeth. We didn’t like his looks but we were sitting at our favorite table at our favorite restaurant, and we were happy. Native performers who call themselves mariachis often come by to earn a few coins. They are not usually very good, but you give them credit for trying and throw a few tips their way. This man was carrying a guitar with only six strings. We almost laughed but thought, why not? “Yes – let us hear some Pedro Flores.” He sang a gentle Spanish song of sadness and love and longing. “How high are the stars….how deep is the ocean…how strong is the love of a man for a woman? I am obsessed with you…and the world is testament to my frenzy.” We were entranced by this prince of music who was giving us such a gift. We asked, “How do we pay for such beauty?” And he replied, “Be my friends.”
SING PEDRO FLORES FOR ME
Humbly he approaches our table, old guitar in hand.
Tall, gaunt, dark skin, clean white shirt, black pants, not young, no front teeth.
We don’t like his looks.
He carries a guitar with only six strings.
Soft voice asks, “May I sing something for you?”
Well, it’s just a few pesos to us. Why not…
…. “Something YOU like.”
A gentle Spanish song of sadness and love and longing.
“How high are the stars…how deep is the ocean…
How strong is the love of a man for a woman…
I am obsessed with you…and the world is testament to my frenzy.”
“Amor es el pan de la vida
Amor es la copa divina.
Amor es un algo sin nombre
We are entranced by this prince of music who is giving us such a gift.
What is your name? Caesar.
Where are you from? Mexico.
We ask, “How to we pay for such beauty?”
“Be my friends.”