It all began in Lecce, more than a hundred years ago. On the night of December 27, 1888, the bells of the Church of Carmine awoke the entire Quartiere delle Scalze. A very strange phenomenon, you might think. Well yes, at the time it was customary to announce the arrival of a child into the world in that way. Music is a universal language that brings people together, strengthens communities. It is the pure reflection of happiness! Little Umberto still knew little of the world, but he knew very well that this tradition had to be respected. So, he sneaked out of the house and, in the middle of the night, crept into the nearest church, reaching the top of the bell tower. Pulling the rope with uncontrollable enthusiasm, he entrusted to the wind the news of his little brother’s birth: Raffaele Attilio Amedeo Schipa.

In the Quartiere delle Scalze, everyone eventually came to know the voice of that very special newborn: he cried incessantly, without ceasing, day and night. An exhausting situation that severely tested his parents’ patience, Luigi and Antonia Vallone, but did not diminish their love for him. According to a legend, the child was miraculously cured of that desperate crying. He was walking around the city with his mother when a mysterious figure intervened, changing the course of his destiny. As they walked, Antonia Vallone gently took him by the wrist, trying to make him walk faster. The child cried incessantly, so much so that even going shopping had become an ordeal. “We can’t go on like this, little Schipa!” the exhausted woman grumbled, pointing at him authoritatively.

An elderly man, elegant and with a regal bearing, who observed the scene with amusement from a short distance, approached them. Respectfully, the man explained that he had heard the surname Schipa pronounced and had intuited their Albanian origins. He recounted that he had lived for years in Albania for business and had remained deeply attached to that land. When he asked the woman the reason for that desperate crying, she did not hesitate to express all her concern. “The doctors say it’s constipation. But if only there were someone who could cure him!” she replied, bringing a hand to her forehead. The man, intrigued, knelt towards the child, gently caressed his little head, and whispered something mysterious in his ear. From that moment, the crying ceased. It ceased forever… Astonished, his mother asked him how he had done it. “He just understood that he cannot waste his voice,” the stranger replied, displaying an enigmatic smile. Then, with an elegant gesture, he walked away, leaving behind a prophecy: “This creature will be your fortune!”

At first, Antonia Vallone did not give much weight to those words, but within a few years, she understood that her son was not like all the others. As a child, Raffaele Attilio Amedeo did not like to study, preferring instead to let his imagination carry him away. However, he had developed a particular passion: at school, he couldn’t wait for music class to arrive. When Maestro Giovanni Albani entered the classroom, his eyes lit up like stars, and everything else lost importance. Albani soon realized he had an extraordinarily rare raw diamond before him. One morning, during a singing rehearsal, the boy’s voice rose clear above the choir, distinguishing itself among all. They were singing Bellini’s La sonnambula, and the maestro, incredulous at such beauty, insisted on giving him private lessons. Determined to bring out that talent, he did everything to highlight it. He chose him as a soloist for a public event in honour of the teaching staff, and he, in turn, ended up enchanting all present. Raffaele Attilio Amedeo was just ten years old when, after that memorable performance, he saw his name in all the local newspapers. It was during that period that his family began to call him Titu, a Salento term meaning "little one". That affectionate nickname perfectly suited his tiny appearance. Soon, Titu transformed into Tito, a stage name symbolizing excellence and prestige.

The high prelate, convinced that the boy's voice was a divine gift not to be wasted, proposed to finance his studies in the Seminary. Under Trama’s strict supervision, Tito honed his talent, and soon the most influential families of Salento began to notice and contend for him. It was during that period that the future tenor began to be tormented by an unusual question: “Do they love my voice more than me?” A doubt that would accompany him throughout his life.

On Easter Sunday 1903, Maestro Alceste Gerunda—head of the Music and Singing department at the Normal School—also noticed the child prodigy and decided to take care of his voice. He obtained free rein from the Schipa couple and instructed him with absolute rigor, exercising full control over his voice. When necessary, Gerunda did not hesitate to correct him with very severe methods, but he also took care of his human side. Because music is life and springs from emotions. In those years, Tito found inspiration in his intense bond with Emilia Cesano, his first muse.

Tito's dizzying artistic growth attracted the attention of Emilia Bernardini Macor, a prominent figure in social initiatives in Lecce. It was she who organized a benefit concert that allowed him to raise the necessary money to move to Milan and continue his training. The success was extraordinary. The young tenor thus left his beautiful Lecce, departing by train towards the North with a heart full of pride… But how cold, foggy, and hostile Milan was! How much he missed the sun of his land, Emilia’s smile, the warm broths his mother prepared for him when winter arrived. Tito learned to suppress those sad thoughts and invested all his energy and savings into following Emilio Piccoli’s lessons. The talented maestro worked assiduously to perfect his voice and complete its maturation. He even resorted to annoying corrective pinches on his legs to achieve the set goal. As a great manager, when he deemed him ready, he made him debut at the Teatro Facchinetti in Vercelli with La traviata. Despite the dilapidated environment and the noisy audience munching on pumpkin seeds, the boy proved his worth. To pursue his dream, Tito agreed to live away from his family, supported by a sense of sacrifice and enthusiasm for learning.

Fate led him to Giuseppe Borboni, an opera impresario from Trento, a crucial figure in his definitive transformation into a star. For Tito, Borboni became a point of reference, a second father who supported and guided him with wisdom. From 1910 onwards, his career was an escalation of successes. He debuted in numerous theatres, both Italian and international. He assumed innumerable artistic identities and conquered audiences and critics, performing in cities such as Messina, Rome, Catania, Palermo, Trento, Parma, Trieste, Bologna, Milan, Buenos Aires, Rosario, Rio De Janeiro, Montevideo, and Naples. It was in the Neapolitan city that he triumphed with a splendid Tosca directed by Leopoldo Mugnone who, for the first time in his career, granted an encore. One character in particular became his alter ego: Werther, protagonist of Jules Massenet’s lyric drama. With him, a perfect alchemy was established, as if they shared the same soul.

Tito Schipa’s star reached the pinnacle of its splendour after his move to New York in 1919. Here he was enthusiastically welcomed by the soprano Mary Garden and the impresario Cleofonte Campanini, who contributed to his definitive triumph on the international stage. On December 4, at the Chicago Auditorium, Tito Schipa conquered America with Verdi’s Rigoletto. From that moment on, he began to receive enthusiastic praise from the overseas press. His steadily rising fee became the symbol of extraordinary success and the recognition of his celebrity status. Tito was a meticulous professional, endowed with iron discipline: he maintained absolute silence before performances to protect his voice. He had no vices and followed a rigorous diet, aware that every detail invigorated his art. He drew creative strength from the deep feelings and passions that animated him. He married Antoinette Michel d'Ogoy, his Lillì, and from their union two beautiful daughters were born, Elena and Liana. He was a man of eclectic tastes and interests: he loved radio, jazz, and cinema, so much so that he could watch up to three films a day. He also cultivated a passion for luxury cars, although he was not considered a great driver. Cartoonists of the time jokingly nicknamed him “public menace”. He had a special bond with a little monkey named Toto. He even threatened to cancel all his shows in the United Kingdom when, upon his arrival, they demanded to quarantine his friend. Over the years, he received numerous prestigious titles, including Knight, Grand Officer, member of the Legion of Honor, and Honorary Captain of the American police.

Meanwhile, he realized a long-held dream: acting for the cinema. He demonstrated excellent acting skills in the film Vivere! (To Live!), directed by Guido Brignone, where he starred alongside the beautiful Caterina Boratto. The pair also drew applause in the film Chi è più felice di me! (Who is Happier Than Me!). While journalists insinuated that his distancing from opera was due to vocal problems, Tito found comfort in the constant support of his fans.

However, difficult times also came for him. Overwhelmed by loneliness and regrets, Tito found refuge in art and his career. Everything changed when he met Teresa Jolanda Borgna, artistically known as Diana Prandi, a very young woman who did not hesitate to call herself his number one admirer. The two met for the first time in Venice in 1944, on the set of the film Rosalba. She had recently embarked on a film career, and Tito immediately noticed her slender stature and elegant bearing. He began to spend time with her and confide in her, soon realizing that he had found not only a confidante but a support, a sweet companion… a great love. Diana followed him everywhere, facing risks of all kinds to accompany him to theatres in Northern Italy. These were the difficult years of World War II, a period when every movement could turn into a struggle for survival. Their lives were in danger several times, such as when their car was riddled with gunfire at a checkpoint by a German soldier, distraught after a recent bombing. The two lovers miraculously survived.

Their greatest joy arrived on April 18, 1946, in Lisbon, with the birth of their child. They named him Tito Schipa Junior, a name that reflects a deep and eternal bond. At that point, Tito had achieved success in every aspect: he was a world-renowned artist and a renowned actor, surrounded by the love of an extraordinary woman and the joy of fatherhood. Unfortunately, he found himself facing an unexpected enemy. Walter Winchell, a controversial American radio commentator, worked tirelessly to destroy his public image. With an intense political hate campaign, he urged the public to boycott his concerts. Tito suffered deeply from the host’s accusations of anti-Americanism, but he continued his path with his head held high, with the utmost dignity, without giving in to those who suggested responding in kind. In 1963, in one of the last chapters of his glorious career, Tito Schipa performed at the Teatro da Trindade in Lisbon, the city that had given birth to his son. A sign of destiny, indicating in Tito Jr. the natural guardian of his extraordinary artistic legacy.

For our Tito Schipa, the time had come to rest and give relief to that voice that had elevated him to the highest peaks in the history of music. On December 16, 1965, Tito's heart stopped beating. At that moment, he was in New York, far from his family, from his Lecce, and in a state of poverty. Thus departed the greatest tenor of the twentieth century, an unbeatable artist, a sensitive, courageous, and passionate soul, who captivated the hearts of millions with his unique voice and interpretive talent, leaving an immortal legacy in the history of music.

The teacher concluded his story, certain that Tito Schipa’s narrative had ignited a spark of courage in the souls of both Catia and Sirio, who, despite not openly expressing his worries, needed to regain his self-esteem. Young people often seek easy and immediate gratification, losing sight of some fundamental concepts. Thus, he urged them to remember the importance of relying on others. He was aware that talent and success, alone, are not enough to achieve true happiness. For this reason, before bidding farewell to his students, as if uttering the last words of a poem, he shared a lesson he had learned the hard way. “Dear Catia and dear Sirio, human beings are not islands. They are more like unexplored lands, always bordering something or someone. One cannot flourish in solitude, but only thanks to the presence of those who can recognize and nurture our light.”

About six months had passed since Catia, Sirio, and their extraordinary professor’s walk in the centre of Lecce. Catia had treasured everything the teacher had imparted to her. Meanwhile, her love for Tito Schipa’s art had grown immeasurably: she constantly listened to that precious vinyl, and, eager for knowledge, she had bought biographies, comic books, music CDs, and spent hours watching videos available online. The figure of the great tenor had rekindled her passion for music, and she had accepted the challenge against her own limitations. After all, Tito had managed to make his way in a world that offered no privileges nor modern technologies capable of simplifying life, uniting people, and making culture more accessible. For this reason, giving up was no longer an option: she had to fight to honour her talent and those who supported her with love and trust.

The moment arrived for her to prove her worth. The Conservatory had organized an evening in memory of the great Tito Schipa, and Catia had been chosen to open the event. A considerable responsibility! For the occasion, Catia had decided to perform "Lecce mia," a song in Salento dialect that symbolized the deep connection between the legendary tenor and his homeland. Hidden behind the red curtain of the Politeama Greco Theatre, which separated the wings from the stage, the girl focused on her breathing, banishing negative thoughts. She thought of Sirio, who was sitting in the audience with his usual smile on his face, and of her teacher, who had wished her good luck shortly before, offering her a special orchid: a rare hybrid called Serapias Schipae, in homage to the legendary tenor.

Then, a flow of images and sensations crossed her mind: The purple velvet of the curtain. The smell of the dusty wooden boards beneath her feet. The sphere-shaped lights on the mirrors in the dressing room. The label with the word “soprano” handwritten on the door. The intense black of a precious vinyl. The ancient, uneven stones of Lecce’s main street. The sunlight on the porous stone walls of the Church of Sant’Irene. A steaming coffee.

The roaring applause of the crowd brought her back to reality. Without hesitation, she walked onto the stage, enveloped in a warm beam of light like a true diva. When she reached the centre of the stage, the audience fell silent. Once, that situation would have paralyzed her, overwhelmed by a shyness that seemed insurmountable. For an instant, Catia felt her legs tremble, but it was no longer fear. It was something new: the joy of having embraced her destiny. Thus, the musical notes began to envelop her, like a tailor, fitting her into the soprano's gown she had so dreamed of. A new nightingale was about to take flight in the gentle and beautiful Lecce of Tito Schipa. Catia’s lips finally parted, and it was magic for everyone: