Walkabout: Christine Adler – a Brooklyn Diva

Sometimes I write about people who become so real to me I feel as if I know them. Telling their stories becomes much more than simply doing a lot of research and then condensing it. Often I feel a kinship with them because I may have experienced something they experienced, or have been in their homes, or in the places they visited, or in their shoes. Sometimes we did the same things, or sang the same songs. Sometimes literally.

Christine Adler was a turn of the 20th century classical singer. She lived for many years in Bedford, in a house that for a long time I dreamed would be be mine, and a house that I’ve actually been in. I’ve stood at the same mantel she must have stood by; I’ve climbed the same stairs, and looked out of the same windows. At the time, I had never heard of Christine Adler. That didn’t come till much later.

When I did discover her name, I found out that we also share a love of classical vocal music. She was a contralto, the lowest of female voices, although that means something different today than it did in her day. In her day, a contralto included what we call mezzo-soprano today, and includes some of the great operatic repertoire sung by characters such as Carmen, Delilah in “Samson and Delilah”, and Amneris in “Aida.”

I used to sing some of that repertoire too, back in the day, so when I read in the old Brooklyn Eagle pages that Mrs. Adler sang this piece or that piece, I know the piece, and I know what was needed to sing it well. Christine Adler also sang the equivalent of pop and show tunes, because she enjoyed working and entertaining, and she also was a gifted teacher. Although I’m too young to have been taught by her, I certainly could have been taught by someone that she had trained, albeit in that student’s later years. It’s possible; after all, my own real life voice teacher lived to be over 100 years old. So here is the story of Madame Christine Adler, a true diva.

She was talented, ambitious, and had an interesting life. Christine Adler was born in 1881. That’s all I know about her early life. I don’t know where she was born, where she grew up, went to school or got her musical training. I don’t have her maiden name. She first appears on the Brooklyn musical scene in 1902, fully formed as Miss or sometimes Mme. Christine Adler.

One of her first Brooklyn appearances is a recital at Wissner Hall, at Fulton Street and Flatbush in May of 1902. Wissner Hall was a small concert hall named after the Wissner Piano Company, which shared the building. Like Steinway Hall in Manhattan, Wissner Hall was a venue for musicians in a nice intimate setting, with only a couple hundred seats. The concerts always featured the company’s pianos front and center, which was the reason they built the hall. Miss Adler was the featured performer that evening, although the program also featured some other artists and an accompanist.

She must have done quite well, because she was working steadily after that. Unlike today, back then it was possible for a singer to make a living as a recitalist. Miss Adler never performed opera on stage in costume. As classical singers still do, she was a tireless recitalist and also a soloist in many different churches, and performed as a featured singer in oratorios and sacred concert pieces. She also did what many other classical singers did, even the most famous of their day — she hit the boards of vaudeville and variety show theaters.

Even the greatest stars of their day, like Adalina Patti and Jenny Lind, found themselves singing in vaudeville reviews. They came out, sang an aria or two in between jugglers, comedians and minstrel shows, and that was it. It paid the rent, often quite well, and enabled the singer to tour, perform, and make some money. In these days before radio, and when gramophones were just coming into the world, these shows could make you a star, or keep you one.

Mrs. Alder became a darling of the Coney Island crowd. At the turn of the 20th century, Coney Island was the day tripper’s holiday of choice. The big amusement parks were in their infancy, so most people came to Coney Island to walk on the boardwalk, eat in large open air restaurants by the beach, and attend concerts in halls and bandstands. There, the bands played, they danced under electric lights in huge dance halls, and listened to singers like Christine Adler entertain them with light opera, popular songs and occasional high-brow arias and staged pieces.

Christine was a big hit with the 23rd Regiment Armory band. Their armory wasn’t all that far from her house on Madison Street in Bedford. She sang with the band often, at Coney Island, but also in other Brooklyn and Long Island venues. She frequently made headlines for her singing, but also made headlines in 1903 for being a hero.

She had been performing with the 23rd Regiment Band in Manhattan Beach that July, and was taking a break on the beach. She noticed Marie Belle Smith, an 18 year old girl summering with her family wading out in the water. That was usually the extent of a woman’s enjoyment of the water, because she had so much clothing on. Marie suddenly lost her balance and disappeared under the water. Christine ran in and saved the girl, holding her up until rescuers could pull her in. The lifeguards worked on reviving Marie Smith for almost an hour, but she finally pulled through. Christine was given a loud ovation by the crowd on the beach, and the story made the Brooklyn papers.

She was already married to Samuel Adler, who was a few years older than she was. She married well; he was a Manhattan wholesale oil man, and was quite comfortable. They had a son, Samuel Jr., as well as two grown children from his first marriage. Sometime around 1906 or 1907, they purchased a new home, moving from Madison Street to 68 Macon Street. This Montrose Morris-designed home is between Nostrand and Verona Place, and sits on a large double lot, and is a striking house. It was a Building of the Day not that long ago.

The house was the perfect size for a voice studio and salon. Christine put ads in the papers and began accepting students. She had quite a few while she was at this home. The ads ran from 1907 to 1911, the years she lived here. She taught voice lessons, coached her students in repertoire, lectured on vocal pedagogy, and also gave student recitals here for almost four years. Throughout, her student concerts were also reviewed by the Eagle, and all of her appearances, both at her school’s recitals, or anywhere else she may have been singing, were always covered. All of the reviews noted that she had a large, well-trained and beautiful voice, which she knew how to use to its best advantage. She was quite famous in music circles in New York City.

In September of 1909, Samuel Adler died. He was only 55 years old, but had been sick for months. He was interred in the family plot in Cypress Hills Cemetery. Christine continued to live in the house for several more years. Her career was still strong, and she even took a couple of tours to Europe to sing, teach, and see the sights. In 1910, while touring Germany, she was offered a job there heading the vocal department of an unnamed musical institution. She turned them down, saying she couldn’t leave her Brooklyn students.

But by the end of 1911, the Adlers sold 68 Macon, and moved to Newkirk Avenue in Flatbush. In 1912 she was chosen to give the first recital to be held at the new Bossert Hotel on Montague Street in Brooklyn Heights. The grand luxury hotel was still under construction when the announcement was made. The concert must have been a huge success, and so was the hotel. Christine was so impressed, she and her son, Samuel, Jr., who was recently divorced, moved in and occupied a luxurious suite.

Samuel Adler Junior worked in Manhattan as an oil merchant in a firm started by his father. Samuel was also in big trouble. He had a wife named Hazel and a young son, Norman. All was well until Hazel found out that Sam had married another woman two years before he met her and hadn’t bothered to divorce her when he married Hazel. The court granted Hazel her divorce and custody of their son, and ordered him to pay alimony. He told the court that he looked like he was doing much better than he actually was. He didn’t have much, he said, and was living off the generosity of his mother. The court ordered him to pay alimony anyway.

Christine probably spoiled her only child, but she would soon be involved in her own marital scandal. This one would be tabloid worthy, even today. In 1913, she met a man named Edward Valentine Goerz. He was the head of the foreign exchange department at the National City Bank in Lower Manhattan when they met. It’s not known how or where they met, but when they did, apparently it was love at first sight. Unfortunately, Mr. Goerz was already married at the time.

Goerz was not troubled by details. He walked out on his wife at their home in Weehawken, and he moved to Brooklyn Heights, and was living at 165 Hicks Street, only two blocks from the Hotel Bossert. Mrs. Goerz had an arrest warrant issued against him for abandonment. She had the satisfaction of having a Jersey City police detective go to the bank while he was at work and arrest him. He was held in the Tombs for extradition back to New Jersey.

When the case came to court, Edward Goerz promised to reconcile with his wife to avoid a costly divorce. But Matilda Goerz didn’t believe him. She dropped her juicy bombshell while testifying in court. She said that even after Edward had promised to return to her, he had purchased two silk corsets for Mrs. Christine Adler, the famous concert singer. She said that Mrs. Adler had tried them on in front of him. She did not believe that he wanted reconciliation.

“My husband has also admitted to me that he is living in Brooklyn near Mrs. Adler and that on several occasions they went to Lakewood together and occupied adjoining rooms,” she testified. Mrs. Adler denied it. Samuel Adler, her son, testified that he wasn’t the one who told Mrs. Goerz this story. The judge wasn’t buying it. He didn’t believe Matilda Goerz. He looked at Mrs. Adler, who was seven years older than Mr. Goerz, and he made this remarkably insensitive statement:

“I don’t think there is any basis for these stories. In the first place, Mrs. Adler is 50 years old and weighs 175 pounds, and Mr. Goerz is a young man. I think someone has deceived Mrs. Goerz. Counsel may submit briefs on the subject of whether Mr. Goerz is sincere in asking his wife to return.”

Well, he was wrong, and was a prig, to boot. The divorce must have gone through, because on August 30, 1916, Christine Adler and Edward Valentine Goerz got married. They celebrated their honeymoon by motoring around New Jersey. They returned to the apartment at the Bossert, and kept a summer home in Tenafly. Christine was semi-retired, and settled down to upper middle class life. She toured Europe again, for one last teaching and tourist trip, and her name disappears from the arts pages, except for a mention that she was a member of the Williamsburg Ladies’ Singing Society in 1938.

Edward Goerz stayed in the news. He became a stock broker, and in 1920 was offered a seat on the exchange. His name appeared every now and then in the papers for Wall Street activity. However, in 1933, his name came up as one of six people who were very publically banned from trading, as a punishment for some not very well explained funny business on the Exchange. His codefendants got much harsher sentences from that body, but Goerz only got a month’s suspension, because he was a semi-retired independent trader, not a member of a firm accused of some kind of insider trading.

After returning to the Exchange after his punishment, Goerz retired. He and Christine gave up their hotel home and moved to their summer place in Tenafly. They appear there in the 1930 and 1940 census. They remained together until her death. Christine Adler Goerz died in 1943. She was only 62 years old. Her death and funeral was a quiet as can be, unlike her life, which had all kinds of drama and was filled with glorious music and passion.

(Photo: Mme. Christine Adler, Brooklyn Eagle, 1905)

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