At 95, a Former Met Opera Tenor Still Brings Audiences to Their Feet in Wyoming

On a recent Friday night at L’Osteria Mondello in Cheyenne, the dining room fell silent. Not because of the food, but because of a 95-year-old man in a dark green velvet jacket and crisp cream shirt. When Rick French—known on stage as “Ricardo”—opened his mouth to sing, the decades melted away. For one unforgettable encore, the retired opera tenor proved why customers had been begging the restaurant’s new owners to bring him back.

French is a classically trained tenor who once performed with the Metropolitan Opera in New York. Beginning around 2015, he became a beloved fixture at the Italian eatery, appearing twice a week in a snazzy suit to sing genuine Italian arias. Now, at 95 and with health declining, he has mostly retired from public performances. But after the Agovic family reopened Mondello in 2023, the question was immediate: “When are you going to bring him back?” Two weeks ago, they did. The house was packed.

French’s career almost never happened. At 19, his father scoffed at the idea that he could sing. Decades later, while working as a wine representative, a client insisted that only Italians could be truly great opera singers. Angered, French walked to a payphone, found a teacher—Michael Signorelli—and began lessons at age 40. After two years, Signorelli urged him to quit his job and train full time, promising to get him to the Met. But at 42, with a wife and three children, French could not leave his well-paid job. He did, however, eventually join a Met summer troupe.

Over the years, French has sung for tips in restaurants across the country. His most memorable night was in South Carolina. A grumpy old man challenged him: “Can you sing ‘Nessun Dorma’?” French launched into the famous aria from Turandot, hitting every note perfectly. Without a word, the man walked to his table and laid down $100—the largest tip French ever received for a single song. “That was probably the best ‘Nessun Dorma’ I’ve ever heard,” the man said.

Another highlight came in Italy, where French sang at a restaurant named after the Grotta Azzurra. After he spontaneously performed with the house band, a diner in a tie and jacket called out, “Bravo, Pavarotti!” French told his wife, “We are never going home.” He still treasures that compliment, especially because he is not a native Italian speaker. “The Italian language comes differently from the throat,” he explains. “You either have it or you don’t.”

Today, French lives at Granite Rehabilitation and Wellness, where he recently gave a private concert for fellow residents. He still dresses for every performance. “I can still belt one out as loud as when I was 50,” he says with a grin. His advice to anyone with a dream is to ignore the voices that say “You can’t.” Instead, listen to the smooth, long “legato” voice inside that whispers, “Maybe you can. Just try.” Ricardo was never a household name, but from Wyoming to Rome, the restaurants where he sang became his opera houses. And at 95, his voice still fills every corner of the room.