When Louis Kirshenbaum, the culture buff who was a fixture in the Metropolitan Opera's standing-room section for more than half a century, died in 2021 at age 88, star singers paid tributes and fellow fans offered remembrances.
But that was not the end of Kirshenbaum's relationship with the arts.
Although her closest friends didn't know it, Kirshenbaum, who formerly worked as a keyboard operator and lived in a rent-controlled apartment in the East Village, had made plans to donate a large portion of her life savings — about $1.7 million — For cultural groups. When she died. After years of legal proceedings, donations of $215,000 apiece began arriving, surprising groups such as the New York City Opera, the American Ballet Theatre, Carnegie Hall, and the Public Theater.
“I was just amazed,” said John Hauser, president of the George and Nora London Singers Foundation, one of the winners. “I had no idea she had that kind of money.”
Kirshenbaum had no husband, siblings, or children, and lived a no-frills lifestyle, working as a switchboard operator for the International Rescue Committee, a humanitarian aid organization, until her retirement in 2004. Most nights, she traveled by bus and subway to Lincoln Center, Where you get free or cheap tickets right before the shows start.
Elena Villafane, the estate's executor's attorney, said Kirshenbaum had an “incredibly frugal Depression-era lifestyle.” Villafane said her father was an ophthalmologist and died in 1990. His first and second wives died before him.
“She didn't take a cab, her furniture was old, she didn't spend money on clothes, she didn't go to Bloomingdale's,” Villafane said of Kirshenbaum.
She added: “No matter how little money I spent, I spent it on the arts.”
For decades, Kirshenbaum was the dean of the hardcore opera buffs who occupied the auditorium sections of the Metropolitan Museum. Legally blind from birth, she often watched shows from the upper balcony through large binoculars. After the curtain closed, I rushed to the stage door to get autographs, bringing a bag full of memorabilia — photos, recordings, music scores — to sign.
American Ballet Theater artistic director Susan Jaffe, who was a principal dancer with the company from 1983 to 2002, recalled seeing Kirshenbaum frequently after performances.
“In the ballet world, Lois Kirshenbaum was not just a loyal fan, she was a silent force, an unwavering presence outside the stage door,” she said in a statement. “Little did we know, behind her humble demeanor, she had the ability to surprise us with a wonderful heritage gift.”
Kirshenbaum's dedication helped him form friendships with opera stars including Beverly Sills, Renée Fleming, Luciano Pavarotti, and Placido Domingo. Signing her belongings dutifully has become a rite of passage for some singers. As they talked, Kirshenbaum gathered information about their upcoming appearances and compiled it into homemade lists that she distributed to fellow opera buffs.
She left behind a collection of memorabilia — thousands of programs, many signed, and even a few pairs of ballet shoes — which she directed to give to the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts at Lincoln Center.
The library has not yet received its items, but Bob Kosofsky, a rare book and manuscripts librarian who knew Kirschenbaum and helped pack her belongings, described the material as “super fan documents.”
He referred to her repeated comments in the margins of her programmes. In 1978, the New York Philharmonic Orchestra gave three performances of a program that included the final scene of Strauss's opera “Salome.” “Even better than the first performance,” she wrote in a program from one of the concerts.
“You really feel her personality,” Kosowski said.
The total distribution of Kirshenbaum's estate, about $4 million, is divided equally between 18 nonprofit organizations and one individual, a woman who helped care for her and her father. In addition to her donations to cultural institutions, she has left money to Jewish groups including the Simon Wiesenthal Center, as well as to non-profits that help blind people, such as the American Foundation for the Blind. She gave it to her former employer, the International Rescue Committee.
Despite her enthusiasm for the Met's performances, Kirshenbaum did not leave a gift to the opera house. Her friends speculated that she may have been angered by the company's decision in the early 1990s – around the time she wrote her will – to ban her backstage, relegating her to the stage door.
Instead, it gave money to other opera groups, including several that help young singers: the London Foundation, the Richard Tucker Music Foundation, and the Opera Index.
The London Foundation, named after famed bass-baritone George London and his wife Nora, announced this week that it plans to award a prize in Kirshenbaum's honor at its competition for young singers next month. Kirshenbaum, who knew Londoners from behind the scenes at the Met, was a frequent guest at the institution's events.
“She was the absolute perfect spectator,” said Hauser, of the foundation. “I can't think of anyone who loved opera quite as much as she did. She was just an opera fan. It was really the most important thing in her life.”
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