One day, Andrew Robb is a 13-year-old with a normal voice. The next, he hits puberty and his voice deepens into something else-a perfect, lyric tenor. His singing spills out of his bedroom door and the shower. His parents, Gary and Anita, stop in the hallway, dumbfounded. "Did you hear that?" Anita asks her husband. They are both attorneys in Kansas City, Mo., attorneys who can't carry a tune. Where did he get that set of pipes?
In a middle school concert, the director takes him out of the choral lineup to sing a solo from The Marriage of Figaro. His mother watches audience members gasp at the mature voice coming from the slight sixth-grader. The teenager starts training with Bill Hall, a baritone who sang professionally for years and founded the American Opera Studio in Kansas City. In high school, Robb goes on a European tour, starring in the title role of Albert Herring, a comedic chamber opera in three acts, in front of enthusiastic audiences in Vienna, Prague, and Budapest. The applause is intoxicating; nobody gets standing ovations for getting an A on a history exam.
Robb makes up his mind. He wants to be an opera singer. Hall, his voice coach, doesn't dissuade him. He is impressed at the talented young singer, who takes direction well and picks up languages easily. Even so, Hall doesn't sugarcoat the hardships of a singer's life. "You should only be a singer if there is nothing else in the world that will make you happy," he tells Robb and his other students as well. "It's not a formulaic type of career path, where you earn salary and benefits and have upward mobility. It's a difficult job."
Sure. Whatever. Robb thinks to himself. He has tremendous confidence he can buck the long-shot odds and sing at the Metropolitan Opera House or La Scala Opera House. But as focused as he is on music, he is no stereotypical glee-club outcast, sidelined to the fringes of high school social life. He's a captain of the golf team. He's on the high school debate team. He plays piano. He's a good student and a Civil War buff. Although he could do well following any number of career paths, his parents aren't surprised when they learn he wishes to pursue an operatic career. All his mother cares about, like many mothers, is that her son follows his passion and remains focused.
Music, Robb convinces his parents, is his passion. He applies to some of the elite music conservatories in the country, including Carnegie Mellon, where he chooses to enroll because it's the one music program that doesn't discourage him from his goal of a double major in voice and political science. He isn't ready to completely let go of his love of history and politics.
At Carnegie Mellon, his collegiate advisor recommends that he frontload the music requirements the first two years and then concentrate on the political science major the last two years. In his 2007-08 freshman year, he squeezes in a few nonmusical electives, but he throws himself into the music program. "There is an absolutely beautiful voice there. He has a natural style and extreme sensitivity," says Douglas Ahlstedt, professor of voice. He thinks his student, the aspiring opera singer, is also gifted at interpreting and performing the classic contemporary songs of Frank Sinatra and Tony Bennett.
Despite the intense schedule, Robb can't resist his political science interests; he joins the Carnegie Mellon Mock Trial student-run club, which is a member of the American Mock Trial Association. Through the association, the club competes in national tournaments; teams of eight students from schools across the country oppose one another in a courtroom setting during intense two-day competitions that simulate real criminal and civil trials. A team might be the prosecution in the morning, the defense in the next round that afternoon. With a performer's natural presence, Robb has a flair for making opening arguments and cross-examining witnesses.
He has no problems balancing his activities and academics, and by the end of his freshman year everything is going according to plan. Before summer break, he even has a chance to meet with alumni who have come to campus to talk about their careers in opera. He expects to see people flying in from New York City, Milan, Paris, London... Turns out most of the world-class performers talk about their bookings in venues located in the heartland of America. The professionals also explain to the students that they must be aggressive in sending out their résumés and marketing themselves, something Robb had never considered. The reality of the operatic job market hits him like an off-key note.
It's a difficult job.
Crucial message received, says Ahlstedt. He explains that the faculty make it a point to give students a realistic picture of the difficult job market for singers, whether they're operatic, contemporary, stage, or new age. For every Liam Bonner (A'03) and Jeffrey Behrens (A'03)-who recently made their debuts at the Met-there are others who perform in Iowa, Ohio, Minnesota, Nebraska. Some even embark on other careers. Of the 37 students who have studied for a four-year period with Ahlstedt, 19 are singing professionally, which he points out is an unusually high track record.
Robb revisits the life he has chosen-a future of ovations but living in hotel rooms, the complexity of raising a family, worrying gig to gig about paying bills. He gets another dose of reality about his career choice during his sophomore year, when his schedule is exclusively music classes. He takes 81 credits in the spring semester, about 20 units more than typical students; gains 15 pounds; can't sleep; feels miserable; has doubts.
"I put years into music," he keeps reminding himself. He can't throw all that away now.
That summer, after his sophomore year in 2009, he lands an internship, not in music but at the U.S. Department of Justice. This isn't the kind of internship where he fetches coffee. He is sent to Congressional hearings to write reports about national issues. He feels energized, which isn't lost on him. "If I want to be an opera singer, I will never be a lawyer," he reasons. "But if I go into law, I can always sing."
Before the start of his junior year, he does it-switches his major to ethics, history, and public policy. His high school sweetheart, Brittany Sanders, saw it coming. She could see how he had lost his way and how much happier he is studying politics and history. He goes out to dinner with his parents and announces the news. Again, like most parents, they are happy that their son seems happier.
But for others, the news of his career change is astounding. Sanders, a student at Princeton, would go home and see old high school friends. They inevitably would ask about Robb's singing. When she would tell them he had switched majors, they would be flabbergasted, exclaiming, "Are you serious?!"
They knew him as Mr. Music in high school. Sanders says she admires her boyfriend's conviction. "A lot of people will mold themselves to other people's views of what they should be. Not Andrew." She adds that despite the common perception among Robb's high school friends, he wasn't taking the safe and lucrative route by becoming a lawyer. "Andrew wants to do something with public service," she explains. "He has an amazing voice talent. To put that on the sideline to do something that is not going to bring him a lot of attention for the greater good is really honorable."
Robb joins about 200 students in Carnegie Mellon's pre-law advising program. Although Carnegie Mellon isn't proclaimed as the school for pre-law majors, there has been a significant uptick in recent years, says Joseph Devine, associate dean for undergraduate studies for the College of Humanities and Social Sciences, who directs the university's pre-law advising program. Robb says he probably wouldn't have come to Carnegie Mellon had he started out as a pre-law major. But he's glad he did because it gave him the opportunity to pursue two independent studies with divergent subject matter: Guantanamo Bay detainees and the Supreme Court.
During his junior year, he decides to help lead the mock trial club, becoming a co-captain and helping to oversee 23 other students who make up three teams. He knows that mock trial will be a huge time commitment from October through March, with practices most weeknights. He knows that it will be particularly intense for him and co-captain Jordan Rosenfeld, a creative writing English major. But he also knows that it will be worth his time. Brian M. Mancos (HS'98), a Pittsburgh-based attorney who is coach and advisor, agrees. He thinks Robb is the perfect co-captain because he has natural courtroom presence: "Some students get into it a little too much. Andrew has more of a quiet confidence. He stands very straight, and he knows how to get the point across."
Robb is especially excited about the year's case-a murder trial with a fictional defendant, Jackie Owen, accused of shooting a movie company executive. Owen's alibi is his best friend, an actor named Alex Grace. During the regional tournament in Cincinnati, Robb plays the prosecuting attorney and starts questioning Grace, a witness played by a student from Ball State University.
"Is it true that you were at the Trisecta Entertainment Party on June 16?" Robb asks.
"I was," replies the witness.
Robb asks a few more questions. Then he pulls out Grace's weapon, a tidbit of information that he and Rosenfeld had found buried deep inside an affidavit.
"Isn't it true you were actually at your home with Jackie Owen on June 16?"
With the weapon revelation, the witness freezes in his chair.
"I will move on, Mr. Grace."
Robb can't rejoice then. But afterwards in the hallways, his teammates surround him with pats on the back, and they quietly celebrate the turning point in the trial. His team wins that round and Robb receives one of the 12 Outstanding Attorney Awards at the tournament where there were 20 teams from 15 competing schools, including Ohio State and the University of Pittsburgh.
Mock trial isn't his only foray off campus. Robb applies for a U.S. Supreme Court internship, something no student at Carnegie Mellon has ever landed. The competition is fierce because there are only two judicial interns each term in the Office of the Counselor, which assists Chief Justice John G. Roberts Jr. in his overall management of the Court. Judicial interns do research for speeches and briefings given to foreign dignitaries, summarize news articles, and prepare memoranda, among other duties. The application process is rigorous, with three essays, including one about the Constitution, and an interview. "There is no way I will get it," Robb tells Sanders. "But it's good practice for applying for law school."
His professor might have a differing opinion. Silvia Borzutzky, professor of political science and international relations, says, "Andrew is one of the brightest and most dedicated students I have ever had in 21 years of teaching."
At 3pm, April 5, minutes after his Historical Evidence and Interpretation class, he is walking through the quad of the Carnegie Mellon campus when his cell phone rings. The woman on the other line verifies that it's Robb. Then, she says, "I would like to offer you a spot at the Office of the Counselor to the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States."
He thinks about it for a half-second, tops, before proclaiming, "I absolutely accept."
On his first day, the 21-year-old puts on a suit and tie and enters the hallowed halls of the Supreme Court. At the end of the day, he walks down the 44 steps of the court and has the same feeling of awe that he did on stage. "There have been many great performances in opera houses. But in terms of the far-reaching effects of the decisions that have been handed down in the building-the attorneys and justices that have worked the hallways-it is just awe-inspiring." Even without a standing ovation.
Cristina Rouvalis is an award-winning freelance writer. She is a regular contributor to this magazine.
Related Links:
U.S. Supreme Court
Carnegie Mellon Student Selected as Judicial Intern for United States Supreme Court
