This was supposed to be about a supposed haunted grave of a famous opera singer. However, after learning more about the subject, I found this lady was quite the character…and when I say character, I mean…holy diva and a half. (I’m sure she was very nice.)
Emma Eames was born in Shanghi in 1865 to a very successful international lawyer and his dutiful wife. They eventually ended up in the state of Maine where relatives resided after her mother became sick when Emma was only 5 years old. Emma was raised primarily by her grandparents.
So here is where I have failed you. I know where she used to live, I know the house she used to live in, but there is something weird and disrespectful about walking by someone’s house and taking a picture of it when you KNOW someone is in there just trying to live their lives and have some privacy. It’s just weird.
Anyway, her mother noticed young Emma belting out the tunes one day and was so impressed at the potential in her voice, that she thought to herself….this girl needs some lessons, and sent her off to Portland, Maine as a teen for musical training. Ok, hold on a hot second, whenever someone has ever told me I needed singing lessons, the sensitive soul that I am always thought I was being insulted. According to Mama Eames’ logic, I have been impressing people with my melodic tones this whole time. I feel like I’ve missed my calling……
By the time Emma was 17 years old, she was singing in Boston and by 20 she was in Paris with her mother and studying under a well known German teacher and singer, Mathilde Marchesi. Things were only looking up for Emma, and she didn’t even need to audition for American Idol.
And THEN enter, Nellie Melba, a fellow soprano opera singer who snagged Emma’s debut right out from under her. Emma was so miffed at Nellie that this started a lifelong cat fight between the two. Nellie Melba was from Austrailia, studied alongside Emma for a certain amount of time and became an international opera star. Also, ever heard of Melba Toast….guess where it got it’s name. I’ll wait…..
Now, I’m not sure why Eames and Melba just had to hate each other so much. I mean, yes they were always after the same part in the opera and they were both all decked out in those hot Victorian dresses, wearing corsets (probably) that would make anyone grouchy and under pressure with all the fame etc, but still. Turns out Emma’s actual debut was the leading role in Romeo et Juliette at the Paris Opera, so cool your jets, Miss. Eames. And Nellie, you had toast named after you, no one else has done that.
Emma’s debut was so undoubtedly awesome that she received rave reviews. I don’t think she even had one single rotten tomato thrown at her! Can you imagine! Coincidently enough, good ol’ Nellie, who apparently burnt her toast that morning (let me know when I’ve beat that one to death), also played in Romeo et Juliet, at the same time. Same role. Same time. Different Opera house. THEN, a year later, Nellie joined the Paris Opera, putting a ruffle or two in Eames’ petticoat which caused her to leave her place at the Paris Opera in 1891.
The jealousy between Eames and Melba continued. Eames was always rumored to have been so envious over Melba stealing her debut role that she would continue to blame Melba for any setbacks or less than perfect performances on Melba’s influence. Melba claimed to have little to do with her and it was rumored that Melba was just as jealous of Eames as Eames was of Melba. Eames was seemingly flawless in the public eye and loved by many as an opera singer. So much so, that Melba was told to just take a backseat by even those closest to her, claiming that second place isn’t a bad place to be. (Ouch.) When Eames continued to snag the parts that both her and Melba were after, Melba accused Eames of spreading vicious rumors.
Eames carried on over the years at the Covent Garden and the Metropolitan Opera in New York. She starred in 29 roles, 8 of them being leading roles. During this time, she had grown quite the reputation for herself for being a grade A….shall we say, Diva. While everyone gave her stellar reviews on her voice, no one could be quite so kind about her personality. She was often resented off stage and was considered a “prima donna.” People would often comment on her lack of character onstage, her rigidness, coolness and less then animated performance. However, her voice was so good that her attitude problem was overlooked.
She went on to making over 50 recordings between 1905-1911, however she was never happy with these recordings as she felt it didn’t do a damn thing for her voice. Record companies and technicians agreed that she was much better at singing then the recordings portrayed. So, while Emma was unhappy with her recordings, the “patience of saints” people working in the studio were equally unhappy with her attitude problem while recording.
It was also rumored that Eames ended her vocal coaching with the late great Marchesi claiming she was a “Prussian drill-master.” (Her words, not mine). And even at the time of Marchesi’s death, she would not give Marchesi any credit for influencing her vocals. (I mean, come on….)
Emma retired at 51 years old in 1916. Then one day, 20 years later, Emma was relaxing in her rocking chair, or in her garden, or at the grocery store, or wherever someone like her would relax, and thought to herself, Damn I’m bored. And began teaching in New York City. She went on teaching until her death in 1952.
So now that all of that is out of the way, we get to the grave. Emma Eames grave is a beautiful sight to see. She had married and divorced twice and had no children, so she is tucked away alone on her own large plot, with a tombstone made of Italian Marble, a bonsai tree etched in the marble, music notes, swans, etc. A wrought iron gate surrounds her with hostas planted all around the perimeter of the plot.
Many say the grave is haunted and soft humming can be heard as you walk by or visit her. Also, red moss-ish stuff grows all along the tree that is etched on her tombstone. No one knows why, or where it comes from, or why it doesn’t grow anywhere else on the stone, or anywhere else in the entire cemetery, but there it be. It gets scraped off and it always grows back.
The next thing is, this cemetery is huge. It goes on forever on both sides of the road. The strange part is, and I don’t know why, but, somehow I knew right were to go to find Emma Eames. I had no idea where she was buried, I had never been to this cemetery before. But I knew exactly where to go. Weird, huh?
As I got closer to her grave my ‘ruff tuff cream puff’ of a dog put on the brakes HARD and wouldn’t go any further towards her grave. Wouldn’t go near it, wouldn’t walk past it, wouldn’t even pee on the hostas. Would not go. So I dropped the leash and went up to visit Emma on my own at which point my dog began to go into hysterics. He was pouncing and lunging in place, barking to hell and back and would not calm down until I was away from the site. (He’s kind of a weirdo). Did he hear the humming? I certainly couldn’t over all his barking, but maybe he heard something I couldn’t.
If you decide to visit Miss. Eames, be respectful. (I can’t believe that doesn’t go without saying these days) and don’t make a mess, or stand on her stone, or trample all over things. Also, keep the gate closed. It sticks but at least have the decency to close the gate behind you. I’ve been back there a few times and see the rock that is used to keep it pushed closed just flung to the side with the door swaying in the breeze. Don’t be like that.
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