James Jorden, the inimitable opera journalist and founder of Parterre Box, died last week at the age of 69. As David mentioned in his previous post, James was a hugely important figure in both of our professional lives. But even more so, he was a friend, and his contagious enthusiasm for the art form he loved so dearly is what I will remember most.

Like many before him, James came to New York from his native Louisiana, intent on a career as an opera director. He had some early successes working with small companies, but he truly found his voice publishing Parterre, which began as a free printed zine in December of 1993. It’s bittersweet that he didn’t make it to celebrate the thirtieth anniversary, but it’s remarkable to consider the cultural powerhouse the platform has become in the interim.

Parterre blended James’s talent for snappy writing with his brash, vibrant, and unapologetically queer sensibility. In conceiving La Cieca, the “doyenne” he created as his alter ego (and named for the tragic mother of La Gioconda), one could imagine the love child of Roz Russell’s Hildy Johnson and Charles Nelson Reilly. He brought the conversations that generally occur around the “Millo Pole” in the lobby of the Metropolitan Opera to readers around the world. It’s fair to say that he became a cultural arbiter along the way, although he wore his influence lightly.

James began distributing issues of Parterre gonzo-style in the lobby of the Met. He’d leave stacks in the men’s restrooms. Once, he was physically removed by security and banned from the Met grounds, with the security guard allegedly referring to his zine as “faggot trash.” James was undeterred by such an experience. On the contrary, he was emboldened.

As the years moved on, Parterre’s stature grew. Deborah Voigt, the fearless (and filterless) American soprano, gave him an interview at the height of her prime, solidifying Parterre’s bona fides within the classical music community. James recruited talented writers from far-flung locales, often publishing under colorful sobriquets, to review opera events across the world. The Parterre ethos was almost tailor-made for the internet era; when the publication transitioned online, the comments section became a crossroads for fans, artists, and industry insiders worldwide.

A decade after James was ejected from the Met for peddling his wares, he returned as a credentialed member of the press. In addition to Parterre, he reviewed opera for Gay City News, the New York Post, and the New York Observer. His byline appeared in the New York Times. At a certain point, he was able to quit his longtime day job as a paralegal and focus full-time on running Parterre.

In addition to his own writing, James befriended and mentored dozens of emerging music critics over the years. Many writers who got their start in Parterre have gone on to contribute to august publications around the globe. Although Parterre’s bullpen includes writers of all ages and backgrounds, he seemed especially eager to support a younger generation of critics intent on keeping the flame alive as opera moves farther out of the mainstream. I am fortunate and proud to be one of many in this cohort.

I last spoke to James in August, when news broke that his beloved diva Renata Scotto had died. He often described seeing her in a Met tour of Il Trittico as a Road to Damascus moment for him and the art form, and in turn, his enthusiasm introduced me to her powerful artistry. I knew he hadn’t been well in recent months, but he seemed upbeat and cheerful, and generous as always. We made plans to talk again soon, sadly never realized.

James leaves behind an extraordinary legacy through Parterre and the community he built. Although his loss is devastating, I take some comfort in the knowledge that he was able to see the fruits of his labor realized in such a fantastic fashion. Ave atque vale, James—or, to put it in operatic parlance, Leb Wohl!