My heart was touched when I heard what happened to opera singer John Mac Master. This tenor, after all, had the chance of a lifetime.

There he was last month on the stage of the Metropolitan Opera House in New York City, singing a major role before an audience of some four thousand people.

A Canadian, John Mac Master had stepped in on short notice for one of his countrymen, Ben Heppner. The latter had been stricken with what turned out to be a pelvic infection and could not perform.

The role was Tristan in Wagner’s opera Tristan und Isolde, a strenuous assignment for any singer. For this one, not yet recognized as a major star, it proved to be too much.

Reportedly, he got off to a promising start. But, soon after, the rigors of the demanding five-hour performance started to wear him down.

It’s not as if he lacked preparation. For weeks he had been rehearsing, acting as “cover” for Heppner and apparently performing up to the job.

Beside that, he had sung the role previously in Europe. And he was not in his first youth. In his forties, he already had much experience on important opera stages.

But this was an awesome setting. The role of Isolde was being sung by Deborah Voigt, one of the Met’s brightest stars. It would always be a challenge for anyone to keep pace with her.

When I found out about Mac Master taking over as Tristan, I felt glad for him. It had been my good fortune to have heard him a few years ago in Pagliacci.

That was in a production of the Glimmerglass Opera, a company that resides during the summer in Cooperstown, New York. This outfit has a connection with the New York City Opera and thus operates at a high level of artistry.

On that occasion, I much enjoyed Mac Master as the clown Canio whose wife proves unfaithful to him. I judged him Met material, worthy of being called to that Lincoln Center stage.

I remember approaching him when he took a seat in the audience to watch his colleagues perform in Cavellaria Rusticana, the opera usually chosen for the same bill as Pagliacci.

I told him how much I appreciated his singing and wished him further success with his career. Incidentally, before that time, I had once spoken to Ben Heppner in a Cambridge record store, thanked him for his great singing, and dared to ask him to pose for a photo with me.

As already noted, John Mac Master got off to a good start. But then, as he flagged, some members of the audience grew uneasy. Parts of the rest of his performance proved not up to Met standards.

After the final act, the singers came on stage to take their bows. When Mac Master appeared, he received some hearty applause but also boos from some audience members.

In all the years of my attendance at operas, I have never seen or heard a singer getting booed. The audiences of which I have been a part have always treated the singers with respect.

Fortunately, I was not at the Met to witness the treatment of John Mac Master. I would have found it cruel and unusual punishment, not worthy of mature adults.

Can you imagine what effort it takes to perform as Tristan? It requires tremendous vocal and artistic talent that needs many years to develop. Greeting an accomplished artist like that strikes me as ignorant and unfeeling.

Who did the booing? I do not know but suspect they were people who regard themselves as highly sophisticated. Others, perhaps me among them, might have enjoyed the performance and not have even recognized that this Tristan was not up to par.

But, in fact, that was the Met’s judgment; they replaced Mac Master for the next scheduled performance of the opera. What befell that next fellow is another story, to be saved for another occasion. Also I pass over in silence the sudden stomach flu suffered by Deborah Voigt that required her to leave the stage partway through that performance.

For much of my life, I have fantasized about being an opera singer. Of course, I can neither sing nor act, but why should that put a crimp in my fantasy life? I still imagine myself on stage producing resonant tones, in just about any role, from ardent lover to evil rotter.

To me one of the ornaments of life is to hear artful singing. I even love hearing professional singers speak because their voices are so much better developed than mine.

Already we have a professional singer living next door, a mezzo-soprano whose tones ornament our neighborhood. If Ben Heppner wants to move here, I will be the first to welcome him.

And John Mac Master, too, no matter what those vulgar boo birds think.

Richard Griffin