Madame Fifì Curlybutt and the Uproar of the Opera

Chicago, Illinois.

Approaching the day that marks the 150th anniversary of her public debut, we celebrate Madame Fifì Curlybutt by commemorating her efforts in promoting opera in Chicago.

The art of opera singing arrived in the US in the mid 1800s, carried by German immigrants who brought their love for Wagner with them.

However, listening to opera is a whole different art. One that requires a sophistication that the local population had yet to develop.

In 1876, Chicago was still suffering the consequences of the Great Fire of 1871. The Crosby's Opera House, which had been the one true home for all opera lovers, was still out of commission, and the smaller McVicker's Theatre — originally built to be a playhouse — was subbing in.

At the time, a night at the opera would not pack the whole theater full.

But it was all about to change.

The arrival of the Spanish-Italian singer Adelina Patti — already famous on the old continent and looking to expand her reputation to America — stirred renewed interest in the craft.

And the premiere of "La Traviata" by Giuseppe Verdi, where Adelina performed in the role of Violetta, brought Madame and her liaison to the theater too.

That's when she found out her innate talent for lyrical singing.

Moved by Adelina's performance of the aria "Sempre libera", Madame's ability to keep up with the famously punishing E-flat marvelled all those present, while angering the prima donna.

The show was forcefully interrupted by the public shuffling over to see and compliment Madame on her performance.

And it did not stop there.

Soon, Madame was attending every show, singing her heart out during the most technically demanding arias with majorly high-pitched notes.

Her innate talent and charming presence captivated the hearts of thousands, and the theater sold out every evening. That is, despite the shows being constantly interrupted by the public's vivacious enjoyment.

Once people started bringing Madame treats and squeaky toys, however, the official performers couldn't sing anymore due to the commotion. Adelina was especially enraged, since her arias suffered the most.

One evening, full of anger, the actors' collective put up an illegal sign before the theatre, reading "no dogs allowed' and prevented Madame from entering.

They thought the crowd would finally enjoy the performance the way it was meant, allowing them to perform until the end at least once.

They were wrong.

When the crowd realized that Madame would not be performing, people started throwing dog food on stage, forcing the actors to hide backstage, before abandoning the theater and asking for a refund on their ticket.

The theater owner, unsympathetic to the pleas of the actors' crew, removed the sign that same evening.

And when the singers threatened to walk away, he famously stated that he would rather "pay the dog and eat well, than pay the artists and starve".

To the enjoyment of the crowd, Madame was back!

But the singers would not surrender.

With Adelina heading the Dog-Free Theater Movement, the crew made its way to the city council and, leveraging local media connections, obtained a hearing.

And while the city council would not agree to prevent "Any one or any thing animated or otherwise that is unable to restrain their mouth inside a theater" from attending the opera, they couldn't make it a straight ban against Madame either.

What if others followed in her pawsteps?

That's how a ban against all French poodles — the most melodious of all dogs — came to be.

And while it would take a long time for opera theaters to sell out again, the attention that Madame brought to the craft bloomed in the late 1880s, with the building of the Chicago Opera House, and the establishment of the city as one of America's great Opera cities.

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