When Lois Kirschenbaum, a culture lover who was a fixture in the standing room section of the Metropolitan Opera for more than half a century, died in 2021 at age 88, star singers and other fans paid tribute to her memories.
But that wasn't the end of Kirschenbaum's relationship with art.
Although not even her closest friends knew about it, Kirschenbaum, a former telephone operator living in a rent-controlled apartment in the East Village, had made plans to give away a large portion of her savings – about $1.7 million – to cultural groups according to her Death. After years of litigation, donations have now reached $215,000 each, surprising groups such as the New York City Opera, American Ballet Theater, Carnegie Hall and the Public Theater.
“I was just amazed,” said John Hauser, president of the George and Nora London Foundation for Singers, one of the honorees. “I had no idea she had that much money.”
Kirschenbaum had no spouse, siblings or children and lived a no-frills life. Until her retirement in 2004, she worked as a telephone operator for the International Rescue Committee, a humanitarian aid organization. Most nights she took the bus and subway to Lincoln Center, where she secured free or discounted tickets shortly before shows began.
Elena Villafane, an attorney for the estate's executor, said Kirschenbaum lived “an incredibly frugal, Depression-era lifestyle.” Her father was an optometrist who died in 1990, Villafane said; his first and second wives predeceased him.
“She didn't take taxis, her furniture was old, she didn't spend money on clothes, she didn't go to Bloomingdale's,” Villafane said of Kirschenbaum.
“What little money she spent,” she added, “she spent on art.”
For decades, Kirschenbaum was the doyenne of the die-hard opera fans who packed the standing room at the Met. Since she was blind from birth, she often watched the performances from the top balcony through large binoculars. After the curtain call, she rushed to the stage door to get autographs and brought a bag full of memorabilia – photos, recordings and scores – to sign.
American Ballet Theater artistic director Susan Jaffe, who was the company's principal dancer from 1983 to 2002, recalled seeing Kirschenbaum often after performances.
“In the world of ballet, Lois Kirschenbaum was not just a loyal fan – she was a quiet force, an unwavering presence at the stage door,” she said in a statement. “Little did we know that behind her humble demeanor, she had the power to surprise us with a wonderful legacy.”
Kirschenbaum's devotion helped her befriend opera stars such as Beverly Sills, Renée Fleming, Luciano Pavarotti and Plácido Domingo. Dutifully signing their belongings became a rite of passage for some singers. As they chatted, Kirschenbaum gathered information about their upcoming performances and compiled them into self-made lists that she distributed to other opera lovers.
She left behind a treasure trove of memorabilia—thousands of programs, many of them signed, and even a few pairs of ballet shoes—that she planned to give to the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts at Lincoln Center.
The library has not yet received her items, but Bob Kosovsky, a rare books and manuscripts librarian who knew Kirschenbaum and helped pack her things, called the material the “superfan's documentation.”
He referred to her frequent notes in the margins of her broadcasts. In 1978, the New York Philharmonic gave three performances of a program featuring the final scene from Strauss's opera “Salome.” She wrote in the program of a concert: “Even better than the first performance.”
“You really get a feel for their personality,” Kosovsky said.
The total distribution from Kirschenbaum's estate, about $4 million, will be divided equally among 18 nonprofit organizations and one individual, a woman who cared for her and her father. In addition to her donations to cultural institutions, she left money to Jewish groups, including the Simon Wiesenthal Center, and to nonprofits that help the blind, such as the American Foundation for the Blind. And she donated to her former employer, the International Rescue Committee.
Despite her enthusiasm for Met performances, Kirschenbaum left no gift to the opera house. Friends have speculated that she may have been upset by the company's decision in the early 1990s – around the time she wrote her will – to ban her from backstage and relegate her to the stage door.
Instead, she donated money to other opera groups, including several that help young singers: the London Foundation, the Richard Tucker Music Foundation and Opera Index.
The London foundation, named after famed bass-baritone George London and his wife Nora, announced this week that it will present an award in Kirschenbaum's honor at its competition for young singers next month. Kirschenbaum, who knew Londoners behind the scenes at the Met, was a frequent guest at the foundation's events.
“She was the absolute perfect spectator,” said the foundation’s Hauser. “I can't imagine anyone who loves opera as much as she does. She was just an opera superfan. It was really the most important thing in her life.”