Over the years, I had come to consider Directors a necessary evil in putting shows together. They seemed to me, at least in some cases, to be little more than traffic cops or, at the worst of times, impediments to my perspective of a character’s through-line and goals. They wielded their “power” in frustrating, soul-deadening swaths which made the joy of performing seem unachievable. There were, however, notable and affirming exceptions. Back in Portland days, Bill Dobson and Gene Davis Buck approached their craft with finesse and humour. In Winnipeg, the joyous exuberance of Richard Ouzounian and the gentle considerations of Robbie Paterson infused their productions with truth and clarity that allowed both performers and audiences to luxuriate in the wonder of making Theatre. Alan Lund, whose wisdom and experience enveloped him in a constantly visible aura, provided a foundation of experience and assuredness in which one felt safe and comfortable. I was about to meet another of those exceptions.
Dorothy (“Dottie”) Danner’s family tree reads like a theatre encyclopedia counting Harry Danner, Blythe Danner, Luke Paltrow and Gwyneth Paltrow among her kin. Her resume is crammed with performing and directing credits from Broadway to Opera stages around the world. I wondered what I was in for as I approached the first day of rehearsal at the Edmonton Opera for their mounting of “Pirates of Penzance” in which I was playing the “patter role” of Major General Stanley. As always, there were introductions and the sizing-up moments as we launched into a music rehearsal with our MD, the miraculous David Abell. Fortunately, dear Tracy Dahl was playing ‘Mabel’ in the cast so I had at least one ally at the outset. But Irving (Gutmann) had assembled a crackerjack cast and the group (Don Bernardini as ‘Frederic’, Claude Corbeil as the ‘Pirate King’, John Dodington as the “Sergeant of Police’ and Clarity James as ‘Ruth’) quickly fell in love with each other and became inseparable! The next unknown was our Director.
My first impression of Dottie was that this woman was, simply put, FUN! Her sense of humour was somewhat irreverent and wonderfully “theatrical”. She had a ton of stories about her time on Broadway and in “the biz” and we responded to them. She put everyone at ease and her only demand was that we all work hard to make this a great production. Our first conversation was not what I expected. “You dance”. It wasn’t a question but rather a statement as she stood before me with my resume in hand. “Well, I don’t know if you’d call me a dancer. Perhaps I “move” a bit”, I said. “Your resume says otherwise”, she persisted. I succumbed and told her that I had a few steps I felt comfortable doing. “Good! That’s where we’ll start with the “MG”, she said, “because the character should come out of the performer’s personality”. In the rehearsal weeks that followed I was breathlessly turned into a male version of Gwen Verdon playing a trouser role! I was in my glory.
My second impression of her was that she worked incredibly hard. I could actually SEE her working. It wasn’t an exterior thing. She was the embodiment of someone in conflict with herself, a mental battle of ideas being fought and showing so very subtly on her face. They were private moments that I spied on at every opportunity. I could see experiments happening inside and then, at a certain point, given voice in a clear and considered explanation of what she wanted me to do in any particular scene. I would hang on her every word because I knew what she had gone through, if only for a few moments, to come up with the right direction. If it didn’t work for her she wouldn’t blame me. She would go back behind the table for a few minutes, have the inner war all over again and come back to me with another solution to the problem. I soon learned that, rather than my standing and waiting, I was expected to offer insights of my own. They were put “into the hopper” and a moment later out came a melding of her idea and mine. It was wonderful to experience.
Because I could move well, most of my numbers had an element of dance about them. “The River Song” was one in particular. We ended up calling it the “Ballet du Breeze”. At one point, the “Major General” dressed in a voluminous nightshirt, is, unbeknownst to him, being stalked by the Pirate King and Pirate and Police Choruses who, hiding in various places on the set, are trying to kill him. If you look closely at the the picture at left you can see one of my assailants disguised as a “tree” complete with white gloves. The humour of the scene depends on the near misses and the obliviousness of the “MG” to the peril just inches behind him. It was all a question of timing for both me and Claude Corbeil, a great comedian and singer. Dottie gave me the places she needed me to be on the stage to accommodate the Pirates blocking. The “how” of getting from one place to another was left up to me. A critic later referred to my performance as “the major-general, who, caught up in some pastoral English moment, flits (yes, flits) about the stage like Isadora Duncan complete with scarf”! We worked and worked and worked the elements to the point of exhaustion. The “almost-got-him” moments had to be timed to the nanosecond in order for them read honestly and during rehearsals the lady’s Ensemble would sit and watch us and laugh and laugh when the moments worked. Those responses spurred us on.
All during the weeks of rehearsals, I would haunt the Edmonton Public Library desperate for news from home about the Shapira/Rainbow affair. These were days long before the Internet or cells phones, so getting information on the fly wasn’t easy. When the Winnipeg Free Press would arrive at the Library, it would be from days earlier. I knew the investigation had been extended but there were no public updates forthcoming. It was frustrating.
Moving to the stage required a lot of adjustments because of the huge sets. Having all the levels and endless staircases now in play complicated the timing a bit, but for me provided new physical elements of which I took great advantage. Then the costumes were added. My first outfit was wonderful. With the addition of mutton chops, I looked like Emperor Franz Joseph of Austria (see above). It was made of wool and all the dashing about during my first numbers got me sweating like a stuck pig. The switch to the nightgown in the second act was a mercy. At our first full dress we got to the “Ballet du Breeze”. From my upper entrance perch I could see all the Ensemble Ladies rushing from backstage into the house to watch the number. As the Pirates and Police hide themselves about the stage they give me my entrance cue: “Yes, Yes, the ‘Major General’ comes”. I enter on the top platform and work my way down the stairs to the mid-level singing about the noise I thought I’d heard. Finding nothing, I relax and I launch into my aria. As I sing “Sighing softly to the river comes the loving breeze” two things happen. On the beat after “breeze” the Police make a lunge for me on the stairs and at the same time I jump off the fifth step on to the deck. As I took off, the “breeze” I created with my leap billowed the nightshirt up over my head exposing my hairy torso along with my “tighty-whities” and excess avoirdupois. The shrieks of laughter that came from the ladies in the house enveloped me, much like the nightshirt which I now desperately tried to push down from around my head if only to see where I was about to land. The guys on stage tried to stifle their reactions to no avail. I felt more embarrassed than anything (less so the ‘Major General’ because he was “alone” on stage) but we both recovered and continued on. Needless to say, the underwear was changed to something less contemporary the following night.
The production was a triumph! As I’ve mentioned before in these pages, I am in heaven when I hear an audience laugh at something I’ve done. Opera audiences are especially great because they normally get so few chances to do that. The experience was incredibly positive all round. Dottie was happy. David was happy. The cast was happy. Even the Orchestra, which had initially reacted rather negatively toward us because they weren’t playing their usual Beethoven or Mahler, got caught up in the fun and ultimately succumbed to the material and performances. And it ended all too soon. We all expressed how wonderful it would be to work together again, but of course it never works out that way (except in this case – two more productions with both Tracy and Dottie were still down the road) and we were done. I took off for a couple of weeks of R&R in Hawaii with my Mom. Dottie had arranged an audition for a production of “Candide” at the Hawaii Opera Theatre, but, fortunately because of scheduling conflicts, nothing came of that.
Once back in Winnipeg, a lot of things happened at the same time. Travel Manitoba had been waiting for me to return to record a new series of narrations for the tourism kiosks at the province’s borders. That took some time but paid a lot of money.
Timlock, now firmly ensconced at Rainbow, needed an assistant for a few hours a week to start getting things re-organized in the office. He hired me. He also instituted two new projects for the Theatre. One was a Class Workshop Program. The other was a “New Musical” project! I was over the moon about both of them. While organizing the office came naturally to me, it also gave me an opportunity to delve deeper into the workings of the Company and its history. Digging into dusty old file boxes yielded a treasure trove of information which I mentally tucked away as “deep background”.
Organizing the “School” was another matter altogether. We were starting from scratch. The intent was to provide classes during the run of the summer shows taught by the Professional Cast members and would be open to Company Ensemble members and folks in the community interested in honing their skills. It would be free to everyone. My job, initially, was to create an outline of approach and a list of possible instructors. Having run the School at Portland Civic Theatre School for years, I had some experience putting such a program together. However, at this point, I was just a grunt listing questions that someone else would have to answer in detail. That someone else was an actress named Jo Havilland who lived in England and would be coming back to Canada to perform at Rainbow. She had teaching experience and Timlock thought she would be a good fit to run the School that summer. I was fine with that.
The summer’s shows were “Oliver” and “Sweet Charity”, both to be directed by Alan Lund. Casting was still to be decided. I wanted to play ‘Fagin’ but even at this point that was a long shot. Feelers had already been put out to Toronto performers like Barry Morse, David Walden and Jan Rubes, so I’d just put it out of my mind. Doing both shows, which Timlock had intimated would probably be the case, and teaching a class or two would be more than enough work. Running the school as well would be just too much, I thought.
The other project, the New Musical Workshop, was more than exciting, but I found myself with a wee dilemma. What would it look like if I was working for Rainbow and got the nod for my show to be worked on by the Company? Timlock set my mind at ease by telling that they would be looking for nation-wide submissions! On one hand, “competing” against writers from all over the country was a rather daunting thought. But, on the other hand, since the project was being funded by the Manitoba Arts Council, a priority was given to Manitoba talent. That would be a watching brief for a while.
The Shapira scandal seemed to be on the back burner. While a bit of reporting had seeped out with regard to the police investigation and the intricacies of the scams he’d pulled, there was nothing to indicate it was going to be wrapping up soon. We would wait.
One afternoon the phone rang. “Riii-ii-chard. It’s Irrr-ving”. Irving (Guttman’s) distinctive greeting always set me a’flutter. I quickly tried to assess what the offer would be. I couldn’t think of anything the Manitoba Opera was doing that required a character or buffo performer. But, as it turned out, this offer was for a “real” role; the small part of “Gregorio” in Gounod’s “Romeo et Juliette” which Irving was directing. It was serious singing and I was in! He also offered me the role of the ‘Don’ in “Don Pasquale” for a School Tour being “directed” by THAT Director. I begged off on that one. That took care of a few weeks at good bucks. Everything was comin’ up roses!
Then, out of the blue, Shapira called me! For some reason, with Jack there was always a silence that preceded his first words after I said “Hello” so I knew who it was immediately. We talked for about twenty minutes. I was relatively cool in my responses to him. Oddly, there seemed to be a kind of clarity in his voice that I’d not heard before. He told me how his “rehabilitation” (he was a day patient at the Health Sciences Center) had been going and how his therapy sessions had served to calm him down a bit. He blamed his state of mind before the hospitalization as the reason for all his troubles. While he took some subtle shots at Rainbow’s management (meaning, I guessed, Jack Timlock) he didn’t go into one of his typical rants. We rang off but he called back a few minutes later and told me I must tell no one about his calling me. It was all rather strange and I think it took some guts for him to call. It didn’t, however, ease my anger that he would try to defend himself to me when the public record spoke for itself. We didn’t talk about the investigations and what result they would produce, but I couldn’t help but think that he must have been anxious about the future.
Alan (Lund) came in to town to listen to folks for the summer shows. There was always a strange sort of political thing about auditioning at Rainbow. You did your party pieces and then, invariably, were asked if you would take whatever was offered you. That was a trap and everyone knew it, a leftover from the old days when “committing to the team” was all that mattered. Everyone dutifully said “yes” to the question and held their breath until casting was announced. Thank heavens those days are long gone! I was singing for ‘Herman’ in “Charity” and ‘Mr. Bumble’ in “Oliver”. I’d given up on ‘Fagin’ since they were still looking in Toronto. ‘Herman’ starts his one song, “I Love To Cry At Weddings”, with a sustained high ‘F’ on the word “I”. It was right in my wheelhouse back in those days and I nailed it! Then into “Boy For Sale” for ‘Bumble’. Afterward Alan told me he was surprised that I had a legit voice. Thank goodness for that Opera training! I had to wait a while to find out if I’d been cast (although “word” was circulating out of the room that I’d bagged both roles) and went on about life for a bit.
“Romeo et Juliette” rehearsals started with the fight sequences. Having a sword back in my hands felt like the old MTC days. For the major battle in the third Act, which was being “choreographed” by John Kaminsky from the RWB, I was teamed up with the ‘Stephano’, a character which is sung by a soprano. Sword combat was by no means this lady’s forte and she was very nervous. It was pretty basic for me but we spent a LOT of time perfecting the moves which John had tried to make as simple but effective as possible. After a few “mishaps” the sequences finally started to work. I still have a scar on the knuckle of my right thumb from the experience.
Irving was directing and our conductor was John Matheson who was from the “this-is-opera-and-there-is-no-other-art-form-like-it” school of conducting. I was already feeling somewhat apprehensive and his rather pompous attitude put me more on edge. I had learned the role – it wasn’t very big at all – and felt comfortable with the French and all the notes. In the course of the sing-thru, much to my horror, I discovered that I’d missed a whole page of my dialogue embedded in a Chorus and had to be taken through it note by note in front of everyone. If the earth had opened up swallowed me at that point, I wouldn’t have minded at all. I hate being embarrassed, especially when it’s of my own making! But it was only momentary and everything turned out fine. I got to know Irving better during this production. We had some dinners and he would call late in the evening because he wanted to laugh. I guess I amused him with my cynicism about certain performing approaches and we “dished” about folks. He told me I should be going out for “limited” character roles, that I had a “decent” voice. Not exactly what I wanted to hear but Irving knew his stuff and I took the fact that he was casting me all over the place as his stamp of approval. There was more to come!
The photo at left shows me as Gregorio. I include this picture as a reminder to myself of the non-smoking year and a half I’d endured. The up-side to that hardship was that I added a couple of extra notes to my upper range. The downside was that I looked like I did; but I got by playing yet another “brawler”. Once on stage and in costume there was a lot of standing about while Irving adjusted things. I took the opportunity to get to know some of the Chorus guys a bit better. They seemed to be at sea about what was going on and, surprisingly, what was being said! How could they go through all those rehearsals and not understand the language they were speaking? A bunch of them gathered about me as I explained the conflict that was coming to a head in the scene and what I was shouting about. Over the few rehearsals that followed I found myself saying over and over again to anyone who would listen that Opera was just another form of “Theatre” and needed the same kind of commitment and concentration; that “the voice” becomes subject to the character, that it doesn’t exist by itself. With a fine singer you remember the high notes, but with a fine actor, you remember the performance. That seemed to give them some confidence and the ensemble scenes appeared to rise above the norm. It was an excellent production. To tell the truth, I couldn’t figure out WHY it was a good production. Perhaps it was the voices; perhaps it was the simplicity and beauty of the set; perhaps it was Gounod’s glorious music; but for me, as little as I had to do, it was very satisfying.
As the show ended, word started to leak out that the Rainbow probe had finished. There were no conclusions at this point but the Crown Attorney indicated that he expected to make some announcements shortly. The investigations had gone on for six months and during that time Arts Groups all over the city had come under scrutiny from City Council and provincial funding bodies. THEIR conclusions were that the Rainbow situation had been an aberration, that cultural activities were “essential” and that they would continue to support and fund the organizations that provided so much to the cultural life of the city. This was incredibly reassuring and actually resulted in some major improvements and upgrades to existing facilities. However, a price was still to be levied by the police investigators!
Things were progressing with the Summer plans. I had been cast in the two roles I’d auditioned for. I had organized the Theatre’s School component for the Principal’s stamp of approval. Word had gone out about the New Musical Program and I had made my submission. It was a matter of waiting to find out what the decision would be. In the mean time, I zapped down to Nashville to do a project for Ducks Unlimited.
Ducks Unlimited was a strange organization! On one hand, they raised an incredible amount of money to preserve the marshlands (the natural habitat of ducks) all over North America. On the other hand, the organization was made up exclusively of duck hunters!! I guess it could be called “sustainability” nowadays, but to my mind, it was a case of duck killers saving the lands on which they killed the ducks! I put those thoughts aside as I was offered an obscene amount of money (yeah, call me a mercenary) to do a live, half-hour narration for the Canadian delegation’s presentation for D.U.’s annual convention at the Opryland Hotel in Nashville (a facility which, in its size and scope, can only be compared to the West Edmonton Mall, or the Mall of America for my Yankee friends). This convention was a high-powered, cut-throat event where the various regions would try to outdo each other’s presentation, boasting to one and all that they’d raised excessive amounts of money and that their region and conservation programs were the best. The money the regions paid the various ad agencies to create the presentations was in the millions of dollars. I could tell the Canadians had spared NO expense in putting together the extended promo. It was astonishing! The gigantic multi-screen presentation reminded me of the cutting edge “Ontario” film at the province’s Expo ‘67 Pavilion. The visuals were inspirational, uplifting and mind blowing! The music was pulsating, edgy, contemporary and heartfelt. Into this, insert ME and a “message” that could have been delivered from a pulpit on a Sunday morning! The whole affair was beyond anything I could have imagined for a duck hunter’s convention. It was only three days but it all stays in my mind as the pinnacle of excessiveness … and the lengths to which people will go in attempts to outdo each other!
I had planned a short trip to England to see some shows and Timlock suggested that I meet up with Jo Havilland to deliver and talk about the plans for the Rainbow School program. England in the late spring is a beauty and combining a two-day hike to Guildford, nine shows in London and the business meeting in Bournemouth put me in seventh heaven. Jo was excited about the potential of the school, but had reservations about how much work it would be. Her hesitation wasn’t really my concern. I was really there to tell her what the job would entail. We left it that she would think further on it. The London shows were inspirational and I returned to Canada ready to get into some theatre of my own. I also returned to Canada to learn that Jo had decided NOT to take the Principal position. Guess who got that job!!
Then the news hit the papers! And it just kept coming and coming; the commentary, the Editorials, the analysis, more and more reporting. Hardly a day went by when there wasn’t some new information added to the story. I can’t imagine what he must have been going through. Pictures of him on television during the trial showed him to be drawn, pale and looking ill. Someone who had been so in control of his life had been run through the mill and was now shown to have no power left. While I always thought he was clever, I never thought he was smart. There were instinctive responses to situations in which I saw him (and which I’d experienced) but there was nothing to indicate that he was actually thinking about the repercussions of his actions; nothing was thought through. In the office we speculated that he would go kicking and screaming, taking down as many people as he could along the way. But, uncharacteristically, he was quiet. He had been coached on what to say and how to say it. It’s hard to see in the picture here of him walking down the court stairs but through his glasses his eyes are looking toward the photographer, not with defiance or arrogance but rather embarrassment and confusion and not a little shame, as if he were asking, “How did this happen to me?” That photo made me feel sorry for him.
He was sentenced to a year and a half in prison and fined fifty thousand dollars. He had already paid back over a half million. His lawyers had cited his medical issues when pleading for mercy, specifically the sleep apnea which deprived his brain of oxygen while asleep and “Pickwickian Syndrome” (obesity hyperventilation syndrome) which affected his breathing while awake. But it made no difference. He was walked into Headingly Prison and that seemed to be the end of the story.
In fact, nothing could have been further from the truth!