This review was first published on July 16, 2026 in Complete Colorado.
Try to get tickets to Central City Opera’s current production of the Ballad of Baby Doe—the story of the rise and fall of Colorado’s Horace Tabor and his wife, Elizabeth McCourt (“Baby”) Doe.
It was just a year ago when, here in Complete Colorado, I panned Central City’s weird erotic/homo-erotic production of The Barber of Seville. But I also observed that it was the first disappointing production of a traditional opera I’d seen at Central City.
Baby Doe isn’t exactly a traditional opera: It is the product of the 20th century, having premiered only 70 years ago—in Central City, as a matter of fact. And unlike most traditional operas, it is sung in English.
But its American composer, Douglas Moore, is known for having eschewed the “experimental” stuff that plagues many other British and American 20th century works. So while I’m not a gambling man (and therefore don’t visit Central City for its casinos), I decided to wager the cost of a ticket, some gasoline, and an afternoon, all in the hope that things would turn out well.
I’m happy to say my bet paid off.
The Opera
The opera opens when Baby Doe, who has recently left her first husband in Central City, arrives in Leadville. She is about 20 years old and very beautiful. And she is clever.
The first scene takes place in front of the newly-constructed Tabor Opera House—which, by the way, is still standing and in use. (I recommend the tour.) As explained in the opera, it was a gift from Horace Tabor, donated at the request of his wife Augusta: She wants to import some culture into the rough mining town.
Historical note: The disorder of Old West mining towns has been greatly exaggerated. In the absence of formal government, most were well organized by the miners themselves. See Professor Andrew Morriss’ study of the subject.
The Horace Tabor of the opera, like that in real life, is a man who long struggled in the wilderness before striking it rich in Leadville’s silver mines. His is a high-spirited, energetic personality, and he is now spending freely. He’s also embarked upon a political career: When the opera opens, he is Colorado’s lieutenant governor.
But while reveling in Leadville silver, Tabor is restrained by the lead chain of Augusta. His wife’s prudent management was important to his success, but now that she’s nearly 50, in his view she has become an aging scold.
Baby Doe encounters Tabor and asks him for directions to a hotel. Shortly thereafter, he hears her singing at her hotel window (“The Willow Song”) and makes haste to praise it. The silver king and the beautiful young woman are smitten with each other.
The opera follows Horace and Baby through their subsequent career: One scene focuses on their lavish marriage reception. At the sumptuous Washington, D.C., affair, Capitol Hill fops gossip about who is saying what in the nation’s capital. President Chester A. Arthur shows up. Baby Doe sings “The Silver Aria:”
Gold is a fine thing / For those who admire it.
Gold is like the sun, / But I am a child
Of the moon, and silver / Is the metal of the moon.
Another scene focuses on the efforts of the spurned Augusta’s friends to keep Baby Doe out of polite Denver society—while Augusta tries to remain above it all.
Then follows the unraveling of Horace’s finances, ascribed to the collapse of the price of silver. Silver dropped in price largely because of the federal government’s decision to reject bimetallism in favor of a pure gold standard. In an effort to reverse the decline, Horace, a Republican, signs on with Democrat William Jennings Bryan’s 1896 pro-silver presidential campaign. Bryan gives an eloquent speech, but loses the election badly.
And Bryan’s defeat ends Horace Tabor’s last hope.
Truth be told, a greater cause of Horace’s financial woes than the collapse of silver has been his own personality. He is irrationally exuberant, and has fallen in love with silver as he has fallen in love with Baby Doe. So despite the efforts of the spurned Augusta to induce him to bail out of silver, he refuses to do so. He insists, against all evidence, that the metal’s price will recover.
Nerd note: The proposed coinage ratio of silver to gold in the 1896 election was 16-to-1. Today the price ratio is about 70 to 1. Notwithstanding the Tabors’ faith in silver, over time gold has been a much better investment.
The opera ends with a pastiche of the dying Horace’s hallucinations and memories, in which he realizes that he has lost almost everything, including his beloved daughters. Only one thing remains constant: the love of Baby Doe.
Tabor died in 1899, and Baby Doe survived him by many years, a pitiful relict living in a hut at the Matchless Mine, the last of Tabor’s silver holdings. He had extracted a promise from her never to sell it, and she honored that promise, living there until she died of exposure in 1935. The opera phases rather quickly from Horace’s death to Baby’s, the latter under a blanket of snow.
Comments on the Opera
As noted above, attending The Ballad of Baby Doe was a gamble for me, because I generally don’t like modern works. Too much bizarre stuff for this classicist. As far as opera is concerned, I checked out when Puccini died in 1924.
But the Ballad of Baby Doe made me check in again. There is some mild musical experimentation, but it doesn’t take over the production. Most of the music is melodious, even when it gets sort of free form. The music also is well adapted to the story, whose lyrics were well composed by John Latouche. A memorable example of adaption is the orchestration in 3/4 time that celebrates the emergence of the Tabor-Doe love affair. It’s reminiscent of the glorious duet “Mia Gelosa” in Tosca, which serves the similar purpose of engaging the audience in the passion of Tosca and Cavaradossi.
The main weakness in The Ballad of Baby Doe—in my relatively untutored opinion—is the penultimate scene, depicting the dying Tabor’s recollections and hallucinations. Moore and Latouche could have made it shorter or crafted another, quicker transition.
The Production
When a production seems pretty near perfect, there’s not much you can say about it that is really useful—other than that. So I’ll keep this short:
Lawrence Moten’s sets were clean-cut and, to use his word “hyper-realistic.” Backstage at the Tabor Opera House felt just like backstage at the actual theater (I’ve been there.) The vignet-like display of Augusta’s Denver parlor was precious.
Long-time Central City performer Emily Pulley, who sang Augusta, seemed technically fine, but at times her voice sounded a little weak—although my perception could be due to my high-frequency hearing loss. The music was very well done and balanced well with the singing. Kudos to music director Jeremy Reger, conductor Aaron Breid, and the orchestra. Virginia Mims as Baby was spot on. Weston Hurt rendered a powerful, full-voiced Horace Tabor.
And kudos also to Colorado’s own Cynthia Lawrence, who directed the production.
I’ll be back next year.
