My days were jam-packed with Show Business! From sun up to sun down and beyond I was consumed with the workings of Rainbow Stage. We were in pre-production for “Oliver”, the first of that summer’s shows. (A reminder sidebar at this point: Rainbow Stage is a twenty-six hundred seat domed outdoor theatre located in Winnipeg’s North End in beautiful Kildonan Park, about twenty minutes from the city’s core area. The Company had been producing Musicals non-stop for, at that point, thirty-two years, and is still one of the Province’s major summer tourist attractions. It is owned by the City of Winnipeg and, after massive renovations to the backstage area in 1986 enlarging the physical plant, the performance space had been brought up to modern standards and was now a wonderful place at which to work.) This would be the first summer without Shapira at the helm and the mood was one of exhilaration and anticipation. However, with all the negative publicity over the previous months, conjecture in certain quarters was that the Company would fail miserably and belly-up. Needless to say, most of us thought that idea was ridiculous, but the notion was yet to be tested.

            The morning hours of my days were filled with administrative duties as Timlock’s assistant – filing and photocopying, making lists and calls, attending meetings and taking notes, coordinating with suppliers and services and being a general factotum where and when needed. Additionally, I was setting up the final preparations for the Summer Workshops Program which were to start once “Oliver” opened; finalizing teachers, sending out requested enrolment forms, making sure everything was ready out at “the stage” for the myriad of classes that had been scheduled. It was an exciting line-up, everything from tap and jazz to music theory classes, scene study sessions to auditioning workshops, performance technique to private vocal coaching. We had even designed a workshop designed specifically for the “Oliver Boys” Ensemble as well as a Stagecraft program. I was in my element and couldn’t wait to get to work each day.

            Rehearsals were called in mid-afternoon and went through the evening hours, and,  when not required, I was usually at the rehearsal space making pitches for the classes to the Company or out talking up the program to interested groups at schools and colleges around town. This was all new to Rainbow and Timlock’s initiatives had caught the interest of the Manitoba Arts Council. This work-experience approach had resulted in a major grant to fund the project. The classes were free to everyone and the teachers were paid an hourly rate. It was win-win all ‘round!

            “Oliver” is a slightly smarmy melodrama with some great songs and characters but has a story that is very old-fashioned and creaky. It relies on performance clarity and an agreed-upon tone and style. While some of the accent work left me cringing at times (some interpretations of a Cockney accent were so bad that what was being said was utterly unintelligible) there was an undeniable sense of unity and freshness that lifted our rehearsals out of the let’s-get-this-show-on-the-boards and into the “special” category. We considered it a “test” in light of the negativity that had been swirling around the Company. Fortunately, Timlock’s experience as a Production Manager made him a very hands-on Producer. As a result, he was constantly at rehearsals paying attention to what was actually going on with the production and was at hand to deal with a problem or questions. His ease “in the room” brought us all closer together. He was affable and very involved. He got his hands dirty when necessary, not shying away from assisting in a scene change in the rehearsal hall or making coffee when the pot was empty. People noticed this and it made a difference.

Alan’s (Lund) work continued to amaze me. His effortless approach to staging was inspiring to watch. It was as if he had memorized the picture on the jigsaw puzzle box and was now putting all the pieces together without referring back to the picture. He simple KNEW where everything was supposed to go AND, in the process, made you understand how important you were to the total picture! His years of doing this were obvious to everyone and, to this day, I try to emulate his process when I get to direct. The combination of Alan’s care and Timlock’s attentiveness made the time in the rehearsal hall and out at the Stage a great pleasure … and fun to boot!

Opening was pretty spectacular … as was the show. Granted, the Opening Night house was filled with a lot of comps, but this was the first time there had been no Shapira lurking about and the naysayers had come to see us fail. They were disappointed!  There was an effervescence that filled the dressing rooms and Green Room. We all “owned” this production. A sense of “family” seemed to tie us all together. As the run went on, the lofty anticipation from some quarters of a lesser product because Shapira wasn’t at the helm continued to prove groundless. Even a rather odd “Bring Back Jack” campaign quickly, and thankfully, fizzled. The community at large “voted” with their feet and filled the house night after night, eventually selling out the week in advance of our closing. It was reassuring and gratifying to say the least. The other great thing was that a large number of the “Oliver” cast was going on to do “Charity”. Our level of comfort with each other played itself out as the run went on.

Once again, a revolve was the centerpiece of the set. My experiences with revolves had always been challenging at best. Once again, I found myself caught in scene changes that required me to wait inside the revolve structure as it spun and spewed me out at the rear of the set. During early tech rehearsals, the set baffling had not yet been added behind the revolve so it was simply a case of walking out of the structure onto the open deck and into the wings, all in plain sight. But as time went on more and more walls were added to cover our exits from the audience’s view. With blackouts added at the end of a scene, navigating the pathways in the dark became confusing. Combined with being slightly dizzy from the spinning revolve I needed help getting my bearings. Some folks, specifically Liane Marshall (playing ‘Nancy’) and Janet McEwan (playing ‘Bet’) were waiting just off the revolve in the dark for their entrances and would grab my arm and give me a push in the right direction in order to get off stage. As time went on, for some unknown reason this “assistance” became more complex, evolving into eerily silent production numbers thanks to Liane and, eventually, MOST OF THE CAST! My exits became a “thing”.

Because we had to be silent backstage, verbal exit directions weren’t an option. So Liane, in her wisdom, decided that visual instructions would be best. It started, simply, with a string of bagel pieces being laid out on the floor for me to follow into the wings. Another night she had two of the chorus guys dressed as London bobbies place me under arrest, complete with a warrant, and with their hands under my arms, drag me off to jail – my dressing room. Each evening, a small group would gather at a distance along with the techies up in the fly gallery, waiting to see what silliness had been invented to get me off stage! It got more and more elaborate: being blindfolded and guided by a rope to a plate of liver offstage with a note reading “Meat, Sir. Meat”, a reference to a line in the play; getting “married” to the Widow Corney complete with a priest and then being hauled off by my ear to the dressing room; two of the chorus ladies naked from the waist up with arrows painted across their breasts “pointing” the way off stage; and, on the closing night, a costumed and choreographed production number with sparklers, bare-assed chorus boys, chorus ladies in lingerie and sex-kitten leather marching me off to the dressing room … all performed in complete silence!!! With the exception of the workhouse boys who were on stage, the entire cast, including our Producer, stood silently in the dark watching this final spectacle. It was eerily bizarre and magical at the same time! Only in the Theatre!

While the Opening Night parties were usually catered for hundreds of people, closing night food was a bit less elaborate, but still brought in. This closing was different. For most of the day, Timlock and some helpers had been out shopping and spent the whole of the evening in the scene shop (where the party was always held) chopping vegetables and slicing cheeses, preparing salads and cold cut platters, plating desserts and filling washing tubs with ice and soft drinks. This party was for “us” and another way for him to be part of that “us”. At the start of the festivities, one of the cast members gave a wonderful speech praising Timlock’s efforts to make the Company a Family, citing the initiation of the Workshop Program and fostering a more professional attitude toward the whole experience. He was placed on a stool, dressed in some costume pieces including a tiara and then, when he’d been embarrassed enough, was presented with a Producer’s Chair, complete with his name on the back. He was close to tears and it touched us all. It was the ultimate accolade and just another indication of the new-found solidarity in the Company.

During “Oliver” the Workshop Program had run with incredible success. Most of the Ensemble was taking classes and folks from the Community had joined in as well (by the end of the summer more than 250 people had taken part in 17 classes). I felt in my element once again, like the Portland days, and the response spurred people to register for the next session even before the first one was done. It was exhausting to say the least. Working in the office, doing afternoon rehearsals for “Charity”, teaching and then performing in the evenings left little time for anything else (see the photo!) But once “Oliver” came down, up went “Charity”.

Shapira’s cloud still hung over Rainbow if only through snippets of gossip and headlines that would pop up every now and then. The Company’s GM told me that Shapira had called (he could call out of prison but no one could call in to him) to find out how he could get in touch with the court artist to get a copy of the rendering that had been done of him during his trial so he could use it in next year’s program! I’ve not know anyone who has spent time in prison but I can only imagine what must go through a person’s head during those empty hours. Does one think about the past with regret? Or does one think about getting out and plotting revenge? There was an effort by an “unnamed advocate” to release Shapira and send him home due on his medical conditions. That request was rejected by the prison’s administration citing the fact that “he’s managing well and has a part-time occupation of light work duties (in the prison) in something he has an interest in”. There were contentions presented by the City (read City Councilor Al Golden) that Rainbow should return to the city’s coffers all the money that Shapira had stolen over the years. That idea was rejected by the City Council itself and Rainbow actually received a partial operating grant once again. The intrigue kept Rainbow’s name in the headlines, and despite what Mr. Golden had averred (that no one was going to the theatre) box office revenue, while down slightly, managed to maintain very well despite the adverse publicity.

Earlier in the summer, Timlock had informed me that there would be no New Musical Workshop. That had disappointed me. He’d said that time was against us and there was really no one to take charge of the large project. Since I was heavily involved with the school and had also submitted a piece for consideration, it couldn’t be me. But, now it seems that mounting the Workshop later in the Fall had put it back on the burner. Once again, I dusted off the script and score for “Now You’re Talkin’” and started thinking about doing some work on it … as if I hadn’t enough to do!

Rehearsals for “Charity” weren’t all that difficult for me. ‘Herman’, the owner of the Dance Hall, wasn’t a huge role but he did have one big number in the second Act – “I Love To Cry At Weddings”. I’d sung it for Alan at the audition and was pleased with what I’d done. I had, unfortunately, used the version of the song in the “Selections From” Song Book not realizing that it was in the “popular key” (a key in which “regular folks” could sing) rather than the “show key”. At the first sing-through I was completely blindsided by what I was going to have to do vocally in the number. Instead of starting the chorus of the song on a high ‘F’, which is what I’d sung in the audition, I now had to start a third higher … on an ‘A’! The voice is an odd part of one’s physiology to begin with. It can be cajoled and manipulated to make it do very difficult things and reach heights one didn’t think were possible. But it also takes an incredible amount of physical, mental and emotional energy to reach those heights. I sort of faked my way through the initial passes at the song and eventually got somewhat more comfortable with it. It got even better at the outdoor Stage with the attendant heat and high humidity. Taking my own advice to my students, it was also a case of “letting the character sing” rather than being too “in my head” and getting in the way of ‘Herman’. I wrote in my Journal: “Apparently the amazement of the group still stands when I go for those notes. The fact that I get them at all sort of amazes me. They are all hanging on what I sing, I am told, and holding the sustained high ‘A’ from falsetto to full voice really gets them going.” I looked forward to the number every night.

Timlock was made the permanent Producer late in the Summer. I guess up to that point it had been a case of him proving himself to the Board.  The quality of the productions and the atmosphere and enthusiasm that permeated the physical plant was undeniable. We had a love-fest going on and there was no drama – at least not IN the Theatre.

Toward the end of the season the cast usually held a Talent Night, an after-the-show get-together in the scene shop where folks would do their party pieces for each other (and a few friends) and drink until the wee hours. I usually avoided these events, one, because they went on forever and two, because there was some dreadful things put up for “approval” that should have remained unseen. For some reason, I got it in my head to challenge myself and had offhandedly suggested to Sofia Costantini, a great dancer in the Company, that we put together a dancer number for the show. I needed to put to rest for myself the “more nerve than talent” comment that a critic had bestowed upon me years ago after a POPS Concert where I had to do some dancing. It had always bugged me and this was my chance to let it go. Sof and I worked on a dance she’d choreographed to “All That Jazz” from “Chicago”. I’d told her not to pull punches with regard to the complexity of the steps. It was sweaty work, rehearsing during stolen moments in the late afternoon heat, but we got it polished to the point where I felt confident in what I was doing.

These talent affairs were interminable. They usually started about midnight after the show came down. Everyone had greeted their friends who had come to see the production and then took a bit of time to dude up for the party. They went on till two or three in the morning, the crowd getting thinner and thinner (or drunker and drunker) as the night wore on. Fortunately Sofia and I were on in the first hour. No one had seen me do any dancing of consequence and I was somewhat surprised at the response. The initial hoots and catcalls quickly turned into applause and cheers as our moves impressed and the ovation at the end was took us both unawares. I was happy with the results of our work.

Alan had stayed to watch and I stopped by his table afterward. He was scribbling away in a small notebook. “Writing letters?” I asked. “Nope. I’m jotting down notes about this great audition I just saw!” Over the summer I’d gotten closer to Alan. At one point he’d asked me if I ever worked out of town. I told him that when the show and role were right I’d travelled to anywhere. He seemed to file that away. I learned later that he’d leaned over to Timlock during our dance and asked “What is this guy doing in Winnipeg?” Seemed like I’d been making an impression. The summer wound down and we all said goodbye to one another. Now it was into other things.

Since Timlock had decided the New Musical Workshop was to go ahead, there was work to do organizing the details for the eleven day project. As part of my office duties I was put in charge of getting details in order with regard to scheduling and rehearsal space. While I’d submitted my show for consideration there were six other submissions that had come in. Being in house, I had an opportunity to suss out the caliber of my “competition”.  I must admit to getting more and more anxious as I read the scripts and listened to the music. The subject matter, styles and quality of the material varied greatly to my less-than-objective eyes and ears. Some were pretty esoteric. Some were out, way out, of the box. Some were wonderfully commercial. But they were all accomplished and well constructed. I could tell which ones might rise to the top of the heap and I didn’t hold out a lot of hope for my piece. There were four “judges”; two in town and two in Toronto How they would come down was anyone’s guess. I held my breath.

I don’t know why, but my piece was chosen. Maybe it had to do with the fact that I was from Manitoba (probably a consideration for the funding) or that my music was a bit more accessible than the others or that it was a smaller cast (two of the pieces had gigantic casts in the tradition of the “mega-musicals” that were the rage back then). In any case, I was up to the plate. “Don’t wish for something because you just might get it!” As is always the case, for me the pursuit of something is always more exciting than the catch. The excitement and energy of the audition seems to be more satisfying than the reality of the work that sets in after winning the role. This was now real. My songs were going to be sung. My words were going to be spoken. This story was going to be told. At least in theory. It was a work “in progress” and who knew what was going to happen on that road.

Of course, the on-going Shapira drama had to interject itself into our lives again. Of late he had applied for a medical leave which had been rejected. Then he had applied for day parole which had also been rejected. It seemed that he was doing everything he could to get out of prison. Then we awoke one morning to newspaper headlines once again. This time it was Timlock who got the big black letters above the story. I’d known that he had blown the whistle on the irregularities in the Company’s books but even so, I couldn’t understand why he decided to tell the world that he was responsible for the upheaval and Shapira’s incarceration. As he explained it, he didn’t want to appear complicit in the cover up which, he was sure, would come out eventually. The dynamics and intrigue of the whole affair were described in great detail in the news coverage. Timlock was angry that his profession was being “used” like this, that Shapira was getting away with what he (Timlock) considered to be criminal activity. He felt that calling out Shapira was the right thing to do. There were varying opinions on that … even to this day. When would this end? It would be a while!

I zapped off to Toronto and New York to see some shows for inspiration and for some Equity business and returned home to a whirlwind of activity that propelled me into one of the most frustrating, exhilarating, aggravating, intense and joyous experiences of my life.