In the months following the closing of “Beau Jest” I found myself in the middle of The Great Jumble. There were warning signs to be sure, but the tsunami of plans and projects overwhelmed me, and my usually well-ordered existence descended into a swamp of confusion and miscalculations.

            At the center of it all was what had come to be my ground zero – Music Services. The company had, in a very short time, become big … VERY big. Our portfolio had grown to such an all-consuming degree that I’d arrived at the conclusion that this was now the center of my existence; it was the foundation of Me as a human being. I was about to turn fifty and this was not at all where I thought I would be at this point in my life. I was A Suit … without the suit!

            I had written Sam a long fax (we were well before the days of e-mail) detailing that, while I was deeply appreciative of the work and the pay (which had increased significantly), I was feeling the incredible weight of responsibility and it was affecting my well-being. Sam was away a great deal of the time; in fact, the fax was sent to his hotel in Hong Kong where he was continuing to organize the South East Asia “Phantom”. I told him that we needed more people working for us. I was at the point where I couldn’t handle it anymore by myself. Things were slipping through the cracks. I was eating, sleeping, dreaming and showering Music Services International. My energy was becoming scattered and frenetic.

            We spoke late one night and decided that we should start looking for someone who could get up to speed quickly, who was self-directed and who could take the pressure of minute-to-minute changes and unexpected crises. It would take six months to find that individual. In the meantime, the notion that “help was on the way” calmed me down a little bit. But we found ourselves in another crisis almost immediately, one that would have lasting implications for us and musicians across the country.

            Concurrent to this thrum was the other side of my life. I found myself floundering in any number of performing decisions. Brian Rintoul had approached me about doing a production “Cyrano” at Theatre Calgary. “Someone Who’ll Watch Over Me” at Prairie Theatre Exchange was still pending. I was discussing the concept for another Concert for Kids program with the Winnipeg Symphony, this one on Bela Bartok. The Juvenile Diabetes Foundation Fundraiser was on the horizon and they had asked me to write and perform a Theme Song for the event. I’d auditioned for a Theatre London/Canadian Stage co-production of “A Little Night Music” and was waiting for word about that. The fifth year of producing “Winnipeg Cares” was burgeoning and The MTC Acting Company situation was still up in the air. It wasn’t easy keeping myself calm while balancing all these semi-confirmed and potential projects, but I was managing.

                Now, we have to keep in mind that Sam Lutfiyya was and always had been a Force of Nature. When he spoke, you knew that he’d thought through everything he was going to say, and the plan came out fully formed and ready to be implemented. He could charm the hips off a snake and, no matter who we had to get involved, in some form or other the idea would invariably come to fruition. There was rarely any backtracking or relinquishing of control. The aim was always that everyone involved “won”. Our reputation had, over the past eighteen months, grown incrementally and we had become the go-to contracting service for the major Producers in the country. Toward the end of “Les Miz” Sam coined a new title for our job. We would now be called “Music Coordinators”, a position just under the big honcho “Music Supervisor”. The name stuck. In fact, the title is in use to this day in the industry. However, for us, this status was not without its troubles.

            Most of our projects had started as one-offs, then evolved into smaller tours and eventually into major tours moving into uncharted territory that no one had dealt with before, especially in Canada. It should also be kept in mind that some of the Musician’s Locals had, over a great many years, become wee fiefdoms over which a small group of “old guard” held sway maintaining iron-fisted and unquestioned control over who could and could not work in their jurisdiction. This bothered Sam immensely. He didn’t think it was fair and that this position was violating Federal Labour Law. Their tacitly accepted “rules” smacked of an antiquated “closed shop” mentality. No one had challenged this before and Sam thought it was about time some barricades needed to be stormed. And that’s just what he did … dragging me along in the process!

            While there had been some small grumbles in the past, most of the smaller locals had acquiesced to our coming in as a show’s Contractors because it meant work for their musicians on a major touring production. However, for some of the bigger locals – Vancouver in particular – this was a bridge too far. Always at the center of Sam’s rationale was quality control and consistency and we had repeatedly been hired because of our track record for providing first- class players who were “good citizens” – committed and loyal musicians. We could be relied upon to deliver the goods! In fact, in preparation for Livent’s “Showboat” Tour Sam had rented an apartment in Vancouver prior to and for the duration of the six-month run of the show. Sam would be playing the percussion book. “Showboat” became our Waterloo!

The Vancouver Local decided that it wanted to amend their contract with Livent to include some very stringent regulations tied to the Orchestra Coordinator (us). They wanted to use a local contractor (“local” now meaning someone who had lived in their jurisdiction for a minimum of three years) to hire musicians, officiate the payroll and have control over the number of musicians the Producers could hire. It didn’t seem to matter what the score called for; they wanted a local quota. Fighting words! Dan Brambilla was the Chief Operating Officer and Executive VP for Livent. He was also a lawyer and a shark! He and Sam had grown friendly over the past year mainly because they liked each other’s forthrightness and commitment to the highest quality. In the contract discussions that ensued, Brambilla became so incensed at Vancouver’s high-handedness that he used the ultimate threat: that the “Showboat” Tour would be signed to the AFofM’s “Pamphlet B” contract! This was a contract for touring shows which stipulated that the Orchestra would be self-contained, which is to say that it would be a permanent group who travelled with the show. Since “Showboat” was scheduled to play in Los Angeles next and subsequent “other sites to be determined” it filled the definition of a “tour” being three or more sites.

The back and forth went on for weeks. Going on to “Pamphlet B” would mean much less work for me because the Producers would officiate the payroll themselves and deal with all the travel arrangements. But with some finessing Sam managed to bring down the temperature and tone of the “discussions” and we agreed upon a “local” contractor who would take care of the payroll. It would have seemed that “they” had “won” but the fact that Sam was Music Coordinator meant that he had total control over who would be hired to play in the pit … which was our aim all along. In hindsight it was a tempest in a tea pot but hinted at the potential problems we were to face down the road (particularly in the U.S.) and prepared us in terms of approach. But that’s another story.

The spectre of The MTC Acting Company seemed to hang over everything. It was taking forever to be set in stone and I was left hanging with other projects for which I’d been approached. One by one they began to fall by the wayside as the engagers couldn’t wait any longer for me to commit. PTE’s “Someone Who’ll Watch Over Me” was the first to go. Then “Cyrano” disappeared as did “A Little Night Music”. They all hurt but there was nothing I could do. I had auditioned for a TV series called “My Life As A Dog” and had been called back a number of times for a one-episode character called ‘Smedly’, a Gale Gordon-type hotel manager which I thought would be fun to play. At the last callback, I was asked if I could do an Irish accent (duh!) and was subsequently informed that I was now being considered for the role of ‘Tom Shaunnessy’, the schoolteacher, who was in all 22 episodes of the series. The next day, the Producer called and offered me the role!! I was over the moon. While I was aware that the shooting was tentatively scheduled from August to December, I kept reminding them of the still-to-be-confirmed Acting Company schedule. They insisted that they would be able to work around whatever conflicts would arise and that I should expect calls from Wardrobe for fittings in the next little while.

Finally, at long last, the Acting Company contracts were confirmed, and the next three and a half months were set. I was valiantly keeping a good thought about the film and how that was going to work out. But a wrench was quickly thrown into the mix. At our first meeting some parameters were set for the Company by Management. It all seemed just a wee bit collegiate to many of us. The vast majority of us were “locals” (in fact, only three actors from out of town) and the guidelines affected us in particular. The main stipulation was that none of us could take Theatre work outside the Company! That threw me, and a number of others, for a loop. There had been no mention of this previously and now some of us were faced with giving up projects to which we’d already committed ourselves. How was this going to work out with the TV series?

The fifth edition of “Winnipeg Cares – an AIDS Benefit” was in preparation at this point and I was juggling meetings with ‘Romeo and Juliet’ rehearsals which had just started. Each year we had tried to top the previous program. While the frantic urgency of the earlier concerts had cooled down, the Concert was now considered an anticipated and very high-end fundraising event in the city’s social calendar. We had gone for some high-profile folks (Greg Louganis and Elton John this time) but scheduling conflicts always seemed to thwart our efforts. Ballerina Evelyn Hart, Danny Kramer and Jennifer Lyon (who were starring in “Tommy” in Toronto) and violinist James Ehnes were on the ticket for this year’s show. The Symphony with Bramwell Tovey and the Royal Winnipeg Ballet were again committed as were stalwarts like Tracy Dahl and Al Simmons. It was now a matter of coordinating a whole lot of details while learning ‘Friar Lawrence’s’ lines for “R&J”.

So very reluctantly and with a heavy heart I finally had to make the decision about the TV Series. I realized there was no earthly way I would be able to do both. While the Producer’s insisted that they could accommodate me, I was getting an idea of what the Company schedule was going to be. R&J was still in the rehearsal stage and it was full bore until opening. Then, we’d be performing student matinees during the daytime and rehearsing the second show – “Our Country’s Good” – during the remaining permittable work hours into the evening. The TV Producer’s weren’t very happy about my choice, but I couldn’t see an alternative. I found myself thinking back on my decision to leave New York to come to Winnipeg all those years ago and what life might have been like had I stayed in NYC. Taking the TV series might have resulted in a major shift in focus for me, but my thoughts always came back to what I had already built in Winnipeg and why I shouldn’t jeopardize a very comfortable and secure existence. It was hard but I did it, accepted it and moved on.

There seemed to be a tentativeness about our first rehearsals of “Romeo and Juliet”. While we all knew each other very well and welcomed the three folks “from away” into the fold, the atmosphere was somewhat uneasy. Management had at the outset, stipulated a number of rules and regulations that shaded our behaviour within and outside the Company. That sense of control was just an impression I had but couldn’t shake it. During introductions at the first rehearsal, our young ‘Romeo’, James Gallanders, told us that he had a speech impediment which he had under control, but in times of stress it might make itself apparent. As I listened to him during the read-through, I noticed that when he came to a word starting with a “d” or “s” or “f” he would hesitate slightly and exert just a wee bit more physical energy to get the word started. I realized that he stuttered but was doing a remarkable job controlling it. His admission endeared him to us, and we automatically became protective of him.

Since almost all of my scenes as ‘Friar Lawrence’ were with ‘Romeo”, James and I became close, almost partners in crime, as we delved into Shakespeare’s “addict/enabler” relationship. Our Director, a member of our community, was very word oriented in her approach and just a little cerebral, focusing on the intellectual aspects of the text rather than the playing of it. As documented elsewhere in these postings, my tugging at the bit to get on our feet sooner rather than later once again had to be sublimated. I held on and made it through all the talky-talky stuff and finally got to “play”. Young James was a joy to work with. There was a lightness and effervescence to him that was most engaging. His ‘Romeo’ bounced about and threw himself on the floor with wonderful abandon and he looked you right in the eye when he spoke to you. Surprisingly, his stutter, when it came out ever so slightly with his great energetic physicalization, made the ‘Romeo’ vulnerable and charming. James loved talking about what we were doing on stage and I loved watching how considered and focused he was when working out a particular character challenge, especially considering how young he was.

The work went along very well, despite hiccups every now and then as a result of some blunt and overly academic observations from our Director. I just filed the comments away somewhere deep inside for possible further reference. We moved to the Warehouse Stage a week before opening and, as usual, that environmental change set everyone back, seemingly to the beginning of the rehearsal process. But we adjusted in short order and moved on. I had to focus on the AIDS Benefit and the upcoming night of the performance.

The one thing about the WINNIPEG CARES event that never ceased to astonish me was the unbridled devotion to the cause by the dozens upon dozens of people who provided their services free of charge! From the stagehands and staff of the Concert Hall to the Symphony Musicians, the Royal Winnipeg Ballet, our evening Hosts (Jacqui Good and Bramwell Tovey this time), the Community Singers and Dancers, the high-end performers who came from out of town to be a part of the occasion as well as the people who helped from afar to get the show on the stage. The Mirvish Organization graciously allowed Jen Lyon and Danny Kramer to take the night off from performing in “Tommy” at the Royal Alex in Toronto. An arranger I’d never met named Dave Tanner at London Orchestrations in New York told me he would donate a new full symphonic arrangement of Elton John’s “Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me” that Danny Kramer wanted to sing, an arrangement that would have ordinarily cost $1,500.00. Dave was the one who’d been in touch with Elton John about appearing with us but found out that he was performing in Atlanta on the night. My dear friend Norman Leyden from Portland days waived his royalties for the Irving Berlin song arrangements so I could sing them that night. The folks at Chelsea Music in Toronto got us the arrangement for Jen and I to sing “I Believe My Own Eyes” from “Tommy”. The contributions were heartwarming!

That night’s performance was another dream. It ran like glass! We started late because, as was usually the case, the box office was still selling tickets at curtain time! The Orchestra sounded stupendous with the new arrangements. The Leyden material was particularly significant for me as I had sung the Berlin songs so many times and it was somewhat nostalgic to perform them again. Surprisingly, the orchestra, usually less than complimentary about “pop” music styled for a symphony orchestra, expressed how impressed they were with arrangements … as indeed they should have been since Norman’s work was based in a symphonic sensibility and challenged the musicians in unexpected ways. Jordan Morris’s “Morning Dance Of The Jester” was spectacular. There were quiet reflective moments as well thanks to Harpist Richard Turner’s “Come Away Death” for harp, violin and viola with me reading Shakespeare’s words from off stage. It felt like it was starting to turn into “The Richard Hurst Show” when I came on once again to do the “Tommy” duet with Jen. But no one seemed to care.

The response following was effusive and complimentary. Everyone seemed to be on a high! We raised $82,000.00 that night! When added to the donations from years past, we had surpassed over a quarter million dollars for the AIDS research and awareness arms of Winnipeg’s Village Clinic. On a personal level, the greatest thing about this night was that my Mom had come into town for the event. It had been a long time since she’d heard me sing. She loved every minute of it and I was happy that we’d all risen to the occasion.

But then it was back to rehearsals. On one of our final tech days the stage wasn’t available, so the Company went to the upstairs rehearsal hall to do an “Italian” of the play. An “Italian” is a sit-down rehearsal where everyone speaks their lines as fast as they can with no “acting” or blocking. But it was decided we should go full-out; so, we were to talk as fast as we could keeping all the inflections and intentions and do the blocking as well. It was a recipe for disaster. We began. There were some titters at the start as we ran and skipped about the stage at breakneck speed, but that quickly disappeared as it became more and more difficult to maintain both the pace and the clarity. The tension started to rise by the minute. Our Director was pacing back and forth in front of us, snapping her fingers and repeating “faster” over and over again. James and I started into one of our major scenes.

I could see James’s back gradually stiffen and his shoulders started to hunch up as he got more and more tense. He was forgetting lines and began to stutter, minimally at first but more severely as we went along. I was starting to tense up myself and, in spite of the fact that I knew them well, had to call for “line” a few times. All the while, the Director continued the pacing back and forth and snapping her fingers. James was in bad shape. Finally, I just stopped and said, “If you snap your fingers at me one more time, I’m leaving this room”. Everything froze. “What?” she asked. I repeated what I’d said and started back into the scene without waiting for a response. We got to another scene with me and Juliet now. With all the stress building in the room now, I couldn’t think. The Director started on me again about acting it with speed. I said “You can have one or the other but you’re not getting both. I can’t do that”. We continued on until the scene finished and a break was called.

I rarely voiced displeasure like that. On my way outside for a smoke, I began second guessing myself. It was certainly breaking protocol and couldn’t be called appropriate behaviour but the tension and negative energy in the room was overwhelming everyone. I felt badly for having pulled a prima donna and, later in the day, apologized for my outburst. Nothing more was said about it, but the experience stayed with me for a long time. There is a fine line between being enthusiastically encouraged and aggressively pushed toward a goal and the line was crossed that day. It was an encounter that would define my approach to my craft in the years ahead.

We jumped into the shows without further incident and began playing to audiences of kids who were more like paintings than anything else. They weren’t really buying into the melodramatic style that had been overlaid on our playing but there was no turning back. We settled into a very long run and, at the same time, began rehearsals for our next production – “Our Country’s Good” – and my descent into madness.