I saw the great man sing once in an enormous sold-out arena, probably 20,000 people. He was older then, and some of his low notes were uncertain, but at the high end, he was himself, glorious and thrilling, the voice of a young man, golden and bright. We were fairly close to teh stage, and I like to think we were near enough that we got something more than the amplified voice coming over the speakers, something of the real voice that cannot be transmitted electronically.

I am stunned at how bad this 'retrospective' or in memorium is. Salon has written some extremely thoughtful and touching commentary after the passing of other artists, filmmakers, athletes and politicians- but you fell flat on you ass with this one.

I really hate to be so negative, but as an opera singer I find it truly disappointing that Salon is so out of touch with classical music and didn't put the effort in to find a journalist with a more insightful connection to Mr. Pavarotti.

This collection of anecdotes is insulting to such an important figure in classical music in our century. Salon may have been trying to show a personal side to the artist, but the article does more to reinforce the stereotype of Mr. Pavarotti as a jolly fat man, than show his humanity or personality as an artist.

It's too bad Salon chose to publish such a dismal placeholder in place of what could have been a much more successful tribute.

I had always thought it was faintly ridiculous when I was very young, grown men and women in absurd costumes shouting, however melodically, at the top of their lungs for two or three hours. But then I watched the second "Three Tenors" concert live on PBS. I forget why - boredom, perhaps? Nothing else on? Whatever the reason it was a blessed decision.

Pavarotti had recently lost a great deal of weight, was excercising regularly and following a strict diet. He radiated health and energy. And then he began to sing "Nessun Dorma", solo. I sat transfixed. I had never heard anything so beautiful, so emotionally galvanizing in my entire life. After he was done I did something very silly but inevitable: I stood up alone in my room and applauded, tears in my eyes.

From that day to this, and to my dying day, I shall be an enjoyer of opera (though mainly Puccinni's arias).

A brood of ‘B’ list celebrities (with a couple ‘A’ listers thrown in for good measure) commenting on brief brushes with the greatest tenor who ever stepped on a stage. That was a deeply impoverished sendoff. With all due respect Salon, the big man deserved a much more fitting memorial than that.

that takes away someone like this. Ahh, he works in mysterious ways. BS.

This article drew less comment than the recent piece on the woman's schizophrenic sister. So what does this mean? What does it say about Salon readers?

Have they ever heard of Pavarotti, and if so, are they aware of the massive worldwide/lifetime contribution he made to the arts? If so, do they care?

The fact that Vanna White is suddenly an expert on opera is jarring. And John McEnroe? I can see him at the Met, throwing roses. Why not interview people in the arts, rather than cull out quotes from celebrities that were published a long time ago? It's simple: no one has heard of them, so it doesn't matter what depth of insight and expertise they have.

This gave me a sick feeling, as it confirmed something I've suspected for a long time: Salon is all about superficial pop culture and celebrity voyeurism. When a real artist dies, no one bothers to comment.

"Uh, you guys."

"Yeah?"

"Pavarotti died."

"Oh. Isn't he that opera guy?"

"Yeah, sang with Celine Dion and stuff."

"How famous was he?"

"Not really Celine-famous."

"I guess she must've really helped his career."

"Yeah, I guess he needed the publicity. Otherwise we wouldn't be wondering who he was, heh-heh!"

"Heh-heh. Well, I guess we gotta do something on him."

"Do we have to? No one reads these things."

"You want to draw straws?"

"No, I'll knock it off in half an hour. That ought to do it."

One of the beautiful things about the internet is that it empowers (sorry, I'm in Cambridge, Mass -- have to use that word at least once in every post; it's the law) everyone. All persons their own press magnates.

So, rubadub, Chad, scavok, this is your moment. Show us how it's done. Since you so clearly recognize the faults and failings of this piece, you can now rectify the problems -- surely an easy task, for people of such insight, such depth, such mental prowess. And who knows to what it could lead? Just like the old Peanuts strip, in which Charlie Brown shares (with Linus, was it?) his fantasy of snagging the line drive from the stands, and the manager cries, "Sign that kid up!" Bylines, articles, book tours -- maybe a guest OpEd at the Times?

It's your big chance, kids -- show us what you got. Boy, I can't wait.