The Riley Center is the jewel of the Meridian, but honestly, it could fit in a much bigger crown. Built in 1890 by Israel Marks and Levi Rothenberg as The Grand Opera House, it died an early and unfortunate death in 1927. Moving pictures, poor management and a lawsuit drove it from the town’s memory. The Riley Foundation, Mississippi State and the good people of Meridian breathed life back into the Grand Opera House over 100 years past its birthdate. After $25 million in restoration, it was reborn in 2006. It was Lazurus’ sister in spirit. “The Lady” was reborn.
The nickname of “The Lady” came from the beautiful portrait of the mysterious woman on the proscenium over the stage. There is great debate about who “The Lady” actually is. Only one person really knows for sure. And you can ask her if you catch her at the right time: She appears at The Riley Center nightly, when the doors are locked and the lights are dim. Here’s her story.
She was a Mississippi girl, growing up on a small farm outside of the big city of Meridian, (the largest city in the whole state.) While her brothers and sisters did chores on the farm, she dreamed of being a singer. She sang to the cows. She sang to the chickens. She sang to pigs. Even the birds had to agree, there was no finer voice in the land. And one day, she knew, she was going to sing in The Grand Opera House.
The little girl grew up to be a feisty teenager. She was seventeen and as rebellious as any solider who had fought Sherman at the Battle of Meridian. Her mother sighed, knowing that her efforts to train her daughter to be a proper lady had failed. It was 1893 and who had every heard of an ambitious woman? The rebellious young lady saved every penny she could until one day the day came. She bought a train ticket for New York and was gone the next day.
The farm girl prospered in New York. Promoters were charmed by her Southern accent, wowed by her looks and blown-away by her angelic voice. She started in small theaters and soon moved up to the biggest on Broadway. Her changed-name splashed across marques and all the newspapers. A star rose out of the Southern sky. The papers called her “The Lady.”
One day she got a telegram from her agent. The Grand Opera House in Meridian, Mississippi wanted her to come sing. She sat, looking at the piece of paper and openly wept. She missed her family — This was her dream come true. She could perform in the very place she had passed as a child on the way to the department store. Her suitcase was packed before sunset. The Lady was coming to Meridian.
Her parents received tickets on a Monday. Her mom had no idea what to wear. Her father grumbled about having to go to see a fancy show. Her sisters hoped to see handsome, single Meridian gentlemen at the show. Her brothers agreed with their father. Who was this singer anyway? And why did they need to go hear her?
She looked out the train’s window as it pulled in the station. As the steam cleared, she looked for familiar faces. While their faces looked the same, her’s had changed. The young girl that left Meridian for New York had become a full-grown woman. Her beauty radiated as she stepped out onto the platform. Her accent showed her sophistication. The local press was there to cover her arrival. Young girls wanted to be her. Young men wanted to ask for her hand in marriage. A star had come down from the heavens by train.
That night the town was abuzz. Every seat in the Grand Opera House was sold (for $1.50 a ticket.) Meridian wanted to hear an angel sing. She busily got ready for the evening in the opulent dressing room. She sighed. There was no finer theater in New York than the Grand Opera House. After she dressed, she walked out on the stage and allowed the power of the room to overwhelm her. The sheer beauty that surrounded her made her change the song list she had prepared. This room deserved her very best. “This had to be what Heaven looked like,” she thought.
She walked out into the lobby and met some of the VIP guests. The Mayor of Meridian kissed her hand. The President of the local bank flirted with her. Israel Marks and Levi Rothenberg themselves posed for pictures with her. She was royalty 1,000 miles away from the farm girl who sang to the pigs.
She looked out the window and saw familiar faces gathering across the street. Her face lit up like the gas lamps inside. She ran downstairs as fast as her dress would allow. She threw open the door, rushed outside and screamed to the top of her beautiful voice, “Mother and Father!!!!” The whole crowd looked at her as she ran across the street.
She never saw the horse and buggy. The horse and buggy saw her too late.
Her funeral was the largest Meridian had ever seen. The world came to mourn the loss of her talent. An angelic voice had been silenced. It rained hard for a week in Mississippi after her death as tears fell from heaven itself. Angels mourned the loss of one of their own.
It can be said that The Lady never got a chance to sing at The Grand Opera House. But if you sneak in late at night you can hear her beautiful voice. And if you wonder what she looked like, the portrait of the The Lady on the proscenium changes to her beautiful face as she sings.
The Lady will be singing in The Grand Opera House for eternity. Her beautiful dream had come true.
