I haven’t been to the Metropolitan Opera in years, due to the pandemic. In the past, I went once or twice a year. It’s a great treat.
In early January, Mary and I took our 16-year-old grandson to see Aida. He had never seen an opera. What a thrill for him and us.
The role of Aida was performed by Michelle Bradley. She is a newcomer but is already a huge star on the international opera circuit. She is African American. She was born in Versailles, Kentucky, a town of 10,000 or fewer people. She graduated from Woodford County High School, then graduated from Kentucky State University, then studied vocal performance at Bowling Green State University.
The town of Versailles, small as it is, used to have three high schools. One of them was for Blacks only, even though the town’s Black population is tiny, about 6%. After the Brown decision, the three merged, and the Woodford County High School opened in 1963.
The publication of the San Francisco Opera interviewed the phenomenal new star:
At school, she was the girl with the crooked teeth, the one the other kids teased and taunted. To spare herself the bullying, she kept her mouth shut.

“I didn’t talk at all until I got home,” soprano Michelle Bradley explains. “I was getting picked on a lot at school. And so I just stopped talking. Until I could get braces, I just didn’t talk in public.”
But in the afternoons, before her parents returned from work, Bradley would retreat into her sanctuary: her bedroom’s walk-in closet. There, with the door closed, Bradley would sing, without fear that anyone would hear her or judge her.
One day, though, her singing would no longer be a secret. One day, it would grace stages around the world, making her one of today’s most buzzed-about up-and-coming opera stars.
Growing up in Versailles, Kentucky, Bradley remembers her mother received free CDs in the mail, with songs from Aretha Franklin, Diana Ross, and The Clark Sisters, a gospel group from Detroit. Bradley loved them all. But there was one singer who inspired her the most: superstar Whitney Houston.
“She was my idol. That’s who I was trying to be as a little girl,” Bradley says.
In those early years, she would tally the ways she and Houston were alike—they shared a birth month, a Zodiac sign—just to feel a little closer to the superstar. And when the movie The Bodyguard came out, with Houston in the starring role, Bradley watched it over and over.
But trying to sing big, powerful ballads like Houston did in a closet made discretion difficult. Bradley had three brothers, two older and one younger. And like many a pesky sibling, Bradley’s younger brother was all too eager to spill the beans on his sister’s secret hobby.
“Mom, Dad, Tammy likes to sing in the closet! Tammy likes to sing in the closet,” she remembers him shouting, using the name she’s called at home.
Even with her parents, Bradley only spoke when spoken to. She was shy. Her parents could hardly believe she had a secret pastime singing. They called her into the living room and asked her to perform something. Naturally, Bradley chose a Houston song: “I Love the Lord” from The Preacher’s Wife.
“After that, my parents had me up singing at church services and everything else,” Bradley says. “It just started from there.”
Bradley had shown musical talent even from a young age. At Kmart, while her mother did the shopping, an 8-year-old Bradley would park herself in the aisle with all the musical equipment: “That was back when they had all the keyboards sitting out and had them all plugged up. Ooh, that was fun!”
She had no problem finding the keys to play the theme songs for kids’ shows like Sesame Street and Fraggle Rock. “I really don’t know how I did it,” Bradley says. “I loved my little cartoons, and so I would hear that and then I could sing it or play it. I just needed to hear it, and I had it.”
Neither of Bradley’s parents had studied music, but both loved to sing. They had met during the civil rights movement in the 1960s, two of the first Black students to integrate their Kentucky high school. Bradley’s father passed her mother a note that read, “I want to be your man.” They sang together in church choirs ever since they started dating.
It was with their help that Bradley started to overcome her shyness. Her father, a police officer, was a deacon at Polk Memorial Baptist Church. Her mother continued to sing in the church choir. Bradley started by learning to play services with the church pianist. By high school, she could carry a whole service.
And when, at age 14 or 15, she started singing in public, Bradley’s parents were always there, cheering her on. “Honestly, that’s who I would focus on when I was singing. I would look at them if I got nervous. So that helped me a lot. They helped me a lot.”
Soon, Bradley had the confidence to sing at school pep rallies and Christmas parties. “When I started doing that, when I started singing at school, people stopped picking on me. I was going from, ‘Hey, a crooked-tooth girl’ to ‘Hey, can you come sing for us?’”
It was the start of something great. Bradley would go on to graduate from the Metropolitan Opera’s prestigious Lindemann Young Artist Development Program. Her voice won her awards galore—from the Leonie Rysanek Award to the grand prize at the Marilyn Horne Song Competition—and she toured Europe, performing in great opera houses from Berlin to Vienna to Paris and beyond.
Now, she’s taking the U.S. by storm. This past fall, she starred as the heroine Liù in the Metropolitan Opera’s Turandot, and in March, she makes her debut with the Lyric Opera of Chicago as the title character in Tosca. Then, she joins San Francisco Opera for its Centennial Season, making her inaugural appearance in the company’s Dialogues of the Carmelites.
Bradley frequently visits Houston, because that’s where her voice teacher, Lois Alba, lives. When the pandemic closed down everything, including opera, she stayed with her family in Versailles for eight or nine months. She practiced at Kentucky State and the local church.
During that time, she got requests to sing virtually. She found that the best acoustics in the house was in the bathroom. So she would get dressed up in her regalia and sing at an angle that didn’t show the toilet.
When she was in high school, she thought she might one day be a music teacher or choir director. But in her freshman year at Kentucky State, her voice teacher, AndrewSmith, told her she had the voice to sing opera and encouraged her. She “just fell in love with it.” He showed her Turandot on a VHS, the first opera ever for her and she was immediately transfixed. Mr. Smith also gave her a CD of Leontyne Price, and Michelle was star struck.
It was like when I was a little girl listening to Whitney Houston, except this was an opera singer. I heard that voice and I don’t know what inside me said, “That’s me. I can do that.” But hearing one of the greatest voices of our time, I said, “I can do that too.” I still, to this day, don’t know where that came from. Or maybe I do know where it came from. But that was really my first thought: that I can do this. I can sound like that. It’s like I found a home.
From Versailles, Kentucky, to the Metropolitan Opera!
What a remarkable story, and what a wonderful voice!
May she have a bright and successful future…
This is a wonderful story of access and opportunity, and public schools provide it for students in the arts, when they have the budget to do it.
My husband and I recently saw La boheme at the Pensacola Opera Company. Mimi was played by a Japanese soprano, who did a good job in the part. Regional opera companies in the South work together to share sets to defray costs. It wasn’t NY, but it was well done.
BTW, my daughter sang in the children’s chorus at the Met for three years. One of the women at my church was a featured singer at the Met, she encouraged my daughter to try out for it. The highlight of my daughter’s time at the Met was to play Pavarotti’s daughter and walk on stage with him for the two week run. Pavarotti was lovely with the children. My husband, bless him, was self-employed so he took her to the city and waited for her each evening. I remained home ‘comatose’ from teaching all day, except for the Saturday night performance that I got to attend.
RT, what a wonderful experience for your daughter and her family!
It was definitely a unique experience which my daughter still fondly remembers.
This is a sort of Den grimme ælling
story (The Ugly Duckling), beautiful and heart-warming.
I’d love to hear her sing The Queen of the Night aria from Mozart’s The Magic Flute which was designed for a coloratura soprano, provided that it is within her voice range.
Years ago some opera star (I think it was Renée Fleming) who was being interviewed on 60 Minutes described opera singing as controlled screaming.
There actually is a Versailles, Tennessee as the header led me to believe. It is a community of one store and two houses I knew near me as a boy. We pronounce it VER sails, a testament to the Germanic origins of English.
Meanwhile, the story of the young person from Versailles, Kentucky is heartwarming.
I think New York is a magnet for such stories. I remember a guy in my youth whose father milked cows for a particular dairy farmer. People who milked cows for a living in that day were the poorest of rural society. These folks often moved from dairy to dairy in search of better wages. I remember driving around the country roads in this guy’s old jalopy consuming cheap beer and listening to incessant drivel.
Fast forward to last year when I learned that my old acquaintance had a son now working as an editor in the publishing industry in NYC.
Roy, people come to New York City to follow their dreams, to make sure that they don’t follow their family path, and many succeed.
I remember walking through Central Park, pushing a baby carriage, looking at the tall buildings on Central Park South, and pinching myself. I’m here. I’m in the big city.
It was around the year 2000 when NY state legislators passed a bill requiring school districts to admit the children of migrant milkers and other farm laborers. Prior to that, education was often denied because they lacked a permanent address and moved with the seasons.
I think it was soon after, that the same type of law was passed for the benefit of homeless children and families in NYC. Same outrageous behavior from the schools: “You don’t have an address in our district, so you can’t enroll in our school.”
Sorry, but I don’t celebrate this progress; there are way too many schools STILL denying kids music, art, PE, recess, lab science, protection from bullies, enrollment in the misnamed “gifted and talented” curricula, proper student:teacher ratios, etc.
WHICH reminds me–whatever happened to the successful Campaign for Fiscal Equity lawsuit, which claimed that inner city and rural schools were underfunded compared to those in suburban and other districts with greater tax bases? This was decided TWICE by NY’s highest court (Court of Appeals) in 2006–after 10+ years!
Last I heard–way back in 2016, on the TENTH anniversary of the decision–the results had been minimal and the ruling unenforceable due to the equality of the three branches of government.
The upstate city district where I taught during the years of that lawsuit had a total annual per-pupil expenditure of $11,000 in those years, versus $15,000 in the surrounding suburban district.
Some people need to go on a spelunking field trip with Dante and it’s NOT just the crooked charter school fraudsters.
When I wrote “Sorry but I don’t celebrate this progress…etc” I was referring to the two lawsuits in my first two paragraphs, and the fake citizens who created the NEED for those suits. Definitely NOT referring to this wonderful singer or anyone else who overcomes obstacles.
Great story Diane! Throughout the story you correctly refer to Bradley’s hometown as Versailles, Kentucky but the headline says Versailles, Tennessee.
It’s a small town just west of Lexington, Kentucky surrounded by beautiful rolling hills and horse farms! It’s also home of the historic Keeneland horse race track.
Good grief! I’m losing it! I corrected the error. Thank you.
Of course, you are to be forgiven. All those Scott’s-Irish places are the same. Just moonshine and fiddles
Roy, I appreciate it.