When many people picture an opera singer they envision Luciano Pavarotti, the portly, bearded superstar who introduced millions to opera. His voice, lyrical and spanning a broad range with seemingly no effort, was said to be tinged with sunshine. That sun set Thursday when Mr. Pavarotti died at the age of 71.

Whether at a famed opera house or a soccer stadium, Mr. Pavarotti’s tenor voice was immediately recognizable. It filled large spaces, yet enveloped individual listeners. It easily rose from dark lows to difficult high notes, earning him the nickname “King of the High Cs.”

Growing up in Modena, Italy, Mr. Pavarotti favored soccer over singing and did not begin serious vocal training until he was 19. Even then, his mother encouraged him to continue his schooling and to become an accountant. He worked as a schoolteacher and insurance salesman before winning an international singing competition in 1961. Later that year, he made his operatic debut in Giacomo Puccini’s “La Boheme.” He made his debut with the Metropolitan Opera in New York, America’s best known, in 1968. He sang alongside Joan Sutherland, who helped Mr. Pavarotti partly because he was one of the few tenors who stood taller than the soprano.

While he devoted his early career to operatic performances, Mr. Pavarotti soon added recordings and solo appearances. In 1990, he teamed with fellow tenors Placido Domingo and Jose Carreras to form The Three Tenors. With concerts coupled with sporting events and at famous locales, the trio brought opera singing to a new audience. Their debut album sold more than 15 million copies, making it the highest selling classical recording in history. Mr. Pavarotti also teamed up with pop stars such as the Spice Girls and Sting for charity concerts.

Mr. Pavarotti’s happy-go-lucky style endeared him to fans as he endured embarrassments unseen in the rarefied world of opera. Known for flirtation, he was photographed with his secretary on a beach, leading to a divorce from his wife of 35 years. Once, he was caught lip synching during a concert in his hometown and long had difficulty reading music, leading him to refuse some new roles.

“I care about giving people a place where they can go to enjoy themselves and to begin to live again,” the tenor told the BBC Music Magazine in 1998. “When you give [them] that spirit, you have done everything.”

Luciano Pavarotti will long be remembered for giving people that spirit.