The big picture

Failing eyesight couldn't dim Russell's view of Opera Colorado future

Marc Shulgold, Rocky Mountain News

Published October 28, 2006 at midnight

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A walk in the neighborhood brought Peter Russell to his knees, but not because of an arduous route or a fast pace. The July walk would best be called a stroll.

An intense workout was the last thing on Russell's mind, anyway. Owing to a battle with juvenile-onset glaucoma, he had lost nearly all eyesight. So taking twice-daily circuits in the Highland neighborhood surrounding his home became one of the few ways the general director of Opera Colorado could remain independent.

Even though his vision had sunk to its worst, he said he felt comfortable navigating. "I could see colors, so I was OK with red and green lights at intersections."

What he didn't realize on this evening was that work crews had torn up the curb at 29th Avenue and Irving Street to install a wheelchair-accessible curb ramp since he had passed earlier that day.

Russell fell face-first into the ditch dug for the project. He lay still for a moment - stunned, in pain. Slowly, he sat up.

Then the tears came.

The seeds of passion

Russell's love affair with opera started in his childhood home in Wethersfield, Conn.

"My grandfather, Luigi Marianella, always listened to the Met (Opera) broadcasts," he recalled. "I think I fell in love with it while sitting with Grandpa Marianella in the kitchen, listening to (Verdi's) Luisa Miller."

Attending Yale as a music major, Russell got close to opera by serving as a stage manager. Then came a suggestion from the two voice department heads, soprano Phyllis Curtin and conductor John Mauceri: 'Why not try opera management?' After graduation he went to Europe and toyed with the idea of becoming a stage director.

In 1984, however, he was hired to manage the opera program at the Wolf Trap summer festival in Virginia. "I saw that I was good at handling the big picture end of things," he said about the job, which led to a post in 1997 running the Lindemann Young Artist Development Program at the Met, his childhood inspiration.

In 2001, one week after the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks, he came aboard at Opera Colorado as general director, succeeding Stephen Seifert. He had been highly recommended to the company by director Jim Robinson (an associate at Wolf Trap) and longtime Met friend Ellie Caulkins.

Arriving in Denver, Russell knew that Opera Colorado needed a new course after the departure of founder Nat Merrill. "It was a triage situation here," he said of the laundry list of fundraising and organizational work that needed to be done. "But I have a stress-junkie mentality."

Russell inherited that intensity in part from his father. "My dad was a self-made man through the lowest point in the Depression. He set up his own law practice."

As the chief operating officer of Opera Colorado, all department heads report to Russell regularly on day-to-day and long-range activities, such as setting budgets and selecting repertory and artists. He also is involved with support groups and major donors.

The job requires experience, persuasiveness, a stubborn streak and ample organizational skills. A sense of humor doesn't hurt, either. Even his deteriorating sight couldn't dim his wit.

"Don't ask me about my 'vision for Opera Colorado,' " he quipped recently to a visitor during a visit at company headquarters.

Taking the long view "All out of self-pity."

Russell was describing the genesis of the tears that followed his unexpected fall in July. But self-pity has proven the exception, not the rule, in his duel with glaucoma.

"It's genetic," Russell explained matter-of-factly about his condition, which began to reveal itself in his 20s. "When my mother was diagnosed with it in her 40s, nothing could be done. But that's all changed."

Though the disease remains incurable, surgery has brought sight to glaucoma patients. Because of irreversible clouding in his right eye and constant problems with the left, Russell became familiar with nearly every surgical procedure. He has been operated on 17 times since 1991 - six in the past two years.

Early this year, though, he began to see "floaters" in the right eye. It was a sign that the cornea was clouding over and, in his words, "giving up the ghost." The left eye wasn't much better, its use severely limited by a buildup of scar tissue from all those operations and a constant leakage of fluids inside the eye.

Russell carried on, guiding Opera Colorado through its first season at the Ellie Caulkins Opera House, planning repertory, and even catching productions around the country to evaluate directors, singers and conductors.

"Up until the summer, if I sat in the front row, I could figure out who was who up there."

Until his vision all but failed completely, he relied on a plastic magnifying screen placed in front of his computer, aided by a program that enlarged onscreen type. An expert touch-typist, he was able to respond to e-mails.

Opera Colorado artistic director Jim Robinson said that, on occasion, he became Russell's eyes. "If we were checking out a new production, I'd describe things to Peter. I'd look at the set designs and say, 'This is what it looks like,' and then describe it in detail. There was never any desire to exclude him. None of us had a defeatist attitude about his condition."

Working within the safety of company headquarters was one thing. Public events, however, presented their own challenges. Hosting an opera panel at the Tattered Cover LoDo this year, he opened the floor to queries, deferring to a sidekick to point out questioners. "I do apologize - but I only have a little peripheral vision out of my left eye," he announced to an audible gasp in the room.

Friends and colleagues, including Opera Colorado marketing director Becky Lathrop, became close allies.

"I would stand with Peter, and we'd make sure name tags were given to the attendees," said Lathrop. "As people approached, I would either know who they were or read their tag, and whisper their name under my breath."

And then there was the moral encouragement and assistance of Stephen Crout, his partner of nearly 26 years. "He never once made me feel like a burden," Russell said of Crout. "Without him, I don't have a clue how I would have survived."

But there were more than words of support from Crout, a retired conductor who, at 62, is 13 years Russell's senior. He helped set limits for Russell, who struggled to maintain a normal routine. "I'd been an arbiter," Crout said. "I tried not to hold on too tightly."

Still, Crout had to take a proactive role as things got worse.

"Peter came home one night in February and admitted he was panic-stricken while driving. So, I took the car keys from him. He was fine with that."

Staying the course

Studies show the success rate of corneal transplants runs as high as 90 percent. But Russell learned that getting the eye healthy enough for a transplant can take years.

"Because glaucoma patients need so much attention, most patients' charts weigh several pounds," said E. Randy Craven, Russell's principal ophthalmologist. The team of doctors (Craven, Alan Kimura and Lance Forstot) were kept busy overcoming the hurdles Russell encountered.

"Peter has so much glaucoma damage," Dr. Craven said, referring to the constant leaks caused by too much pressure within the eye, a common byproduct of the disease.

To regulate pressure, tiny valves known as shunts were inserted in the right eye, along with a drop or two of superglue to seal leaks in the troublesome left. The object was to achieve a stable eye pressure. Glaucoma patients often face a buildup of a fluid, known as aqueous humor, because normal drainage channels are blocked.

Dr. Craven was blunt about Russell's prognosis as he awaited a corneal transplant. "He's headed toward blindness if we don't keep things under control. But there's reasonably good potential in both eyes, and he has a good attitude. He could get back to functioning and driving - and, after the transplant, a return to good vision could happen pretty fast."

Craven's optimism gave Russell and Crout hope, but both men also knew a successful outcome was not guaranteed.

"I realized that, if (blindness) is what I have to live with, I can still do things," Russell said. "I could learn Braille, I could try another job or career.

"Sure, this is a big old curveball, but it could be worse. I will still have my ears - and the music is what I really love about opera."

Ever the optimist, Russell opted not to cancel summer plans to attend staged productions in Santa Fe and Central City.

"I worried about going," Crout admitted. "I knew it would have been easy for Peter to say, 'Let's cancel.' But he wanted to go.

"What made it really tough," he continued, "was that the (Santa Fe) stagings were two of the most visually engaging I've ever seen."

Ironically, that made the experience exciting, Russell said. After his entourage had seen Massenet's Cendrillon and Thomas Adès' The Tempest, he listened intently to their conversation.

"Everyone was so enthralled and enthusiastic," Russell said. "There was a palpable sense of wanting to talk about it - and that provided my mind's eye with a wonderful supplement."

Under the knife

Russell had been placed on the donor waiting list in March and learned in June that he was cleared for a right-eye corneal transplant.

That was good news, since the ever-increasing cloudiness had all but blinded the right eye. "It had been like the eye was covered with Vaseline," he explained. Soon, only large, starkly contrasting objects could be discerned.

On July 10, as he approached the top of the waiting list, a routine visit to Dr. Craven delivered bad news: The shunts in the right eye had shifted and could interfere with a new cornea. More surgery was needed.

"That's the only time I saw Stephen lose it," Russell recalled. "After the doctor visit, he was quiet, and then he got weepy. But I was OK."

Surgery was performed to relocate the right-eye shunts, and a stitch was made to that troublesome left-eye leak. Finally, on Sept. 22, he received a phone call: A cornea was available, the operation would be the following Monday.

"Peter called and said, 'I'm a little excited,' " Crout recalled, shaking his head in amazement at Russell's cool. "Can you imagine?"

After years of wondering and waiting, the procedure to remove the old cornea and stitch in a new one lasted only 35 minutes. Russell and Crout, who arrived at 7:30 a.m., headed home at 10 a.m.

Just two days later, Opera Colorado staff welcomed their general director back to work.

Looking ahead

Russell and Crout sat in their favorite Highland coffee shop a week after the operation, discussing the recuperation.

The first five months will determine if there's tissue rejection. But Russell's mother had received a cornea transplant and already successfully passed that key point. And with the use of steroid drops, rejection has become less likely. Even so, Dr. Craven said the healing process could take as long as 18 months.

Each day at work, Russell has been steadily improving in his ability to read and function. "I've also learned to delegate," he said.

Last week, Crout reported that the men had gone to the movies and attended a theater production, where projected supertitles were easily read by Russell.

With Opera Colorado's season-opening production of The Magic Flute fast approaching, the general director is operating at full steam, knowing the busy months ahead will be demanding.

His irrepressible spirit intact, and a newly functioning right eye steadily improving, Russell sees a bright future. And each day he can see it more clearly.

Strolling out of the coffee shop, he looked up at a blackboard announcing a photo exhibit.

"Coming soon," he read. "The long road to recovery."

Glaucoma

• It is the second-leading cause of blindness in the U.S., representing 18 percent of the blindness.

• The Glaucoma Research Foundation estimates 1 in 10 patients with glaucoma go blind.

• There are many different types, though most cases are either primary open-angle (also known as chronic glaucoma) or acute closed-angle.

• Primary open-angle glaucoma affects 2.2 million U.S. citizens. This will increase 50 percent by 2020 to 3.36 million patients.

• Contributing factors to primary open-angle glaucoma include: Age and race (afflicts 7 percent of African-Americans over 80); medical disorders such as diabetes, extreme near-sightedness, and sometimes prior eye surgery.

Prevention

• Eye pressure is referred to as the glaucoma test and is an important part of treating glaucoma. The pressure is lowered to treat the problem. However, a high or low pressure does not tell if you have the disease.

• Glaucoma offers few or no symptoms. Approximately half of all Americans with the disease are unaware - often finding out after it's too late.

• Early diagnosis is crucial. Your eye doctor should look at the optic nerve or analyze it if you have risk factors, and should perform a peripheral vision test if indicated.

Source: E. Randy Craven, M.D.

Become a donor

More than 91,000 Americans are awaiting organ transplants, including 1,300 in Colorado. In 2005, according to Donate Life America, there were 28,110 organ transplants. Each year, approximately 1 million tissue transplants are performed. Each day, an average of 18 Americans die waiting for donated organs. Here are some ways to become an eye, tissue or organ donor:

• Agreeing to do so when applying for a driver's license (a red heart or a Y will appear on the front of your license);

• Call the Colorado Organ and Tissue Donor Registry at 303-380-4802 or 1-888-256-4386.

• Visit Web sites such as: www.donor-awareness.org www.donatelife.net www.coloradodonorregistry.org

Shulgoldm@RockyMountainNews.com or 303-954-5296

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