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As we moved toward the closing of “Crazy” three things happened at the same time. It seemed that things were always happening at the same time for me and, inevitably, I would be forced to make choices that I didn’t want to make, but had to. This time, that wasn’t the case.

Ron Meyers was a Rainbow fixture. I couldn’t have named a bigger Musical Theatre geek than Ron (aside from myself … and maybe Richard Ouzounian). He was a Provincial Court Judge but when he was at “the Stage” he was a Musical Nerd. He also sat on the Rainbow Board and was deeply committed to its well-being. We ran into each other socially during the time I wasn’t involved with Rainbow and he would always start the conversation by saying “we’ve got to get you back”. I would smile and say, “I’m waiting” and time would pass – six years, to be exact – before I was “back”. Our banter during “Crazy” rehearsals would invariably center on the merits of potential show choices for Rainbow, upgrading outreach, production quality and “getting more bums in the seats”. Oddly these were the same things we had always talked about back in the “old” days. I loved our chats.

One evening, I arrived for a performance to find Ron waiting for me at the stage door. He usually had an observation about something in the show or about a new show in New York or a new recording of an obscure show he’d just found. But this encounter seemed to have another purpose. Just as we got to my dressing room, he stopped and looked at me rather seriously. “Would you allow me to submit your name to the Production Committee to direct the Winter Show?” In an effort to shed the “just Summer Theatre” image, Rainbow had announced that it would be mounting a single major production at the Pantages Playhouse during the regular theatre season. To me, this was a signal that the “new management” was making some major changes and committed to following through. So far, nothing more had been made public. I was completely surprised by the question and had to stop myself from jumping up and down. “I guess it would depend on the show”, I said. “I’ll be in touch” he said and walked away. Five minutes later Ken Peter, Rainbow’s General Manager, walked into the dressing room and quietly asked if he could have a meeting with me the following week about directing. Ron and Ken were as thick as thieves, always off in a corner plotting, always whispering to each other and it was obvious that Ron had dashed away to report to Ken on the conversation we’d had. It now seemed clear that some conspiring had been in the works. “I’m at your disposal” and we set a date.

It was now also set that Sam was moving back to Winnipeg. He had been living in Vancouver for the past three years, variously playing in the “Show Boat” orchestra, navigating the bumpy Livent fiasco (which was on-going) and maintaining the existing shows on our roster while continuing the hunt for others. His return to town served to fuel circulating gossip that I would be moving to New York and that Sharon Harris, our devoted Vancouver factotum, would be my Assistant in an office there! This info wasn’t coming from me, so it seemed clear that Sam had been doing some talking. People were now walking up to me in various environments telling me not to leave town! I would just laugh it off in the moment, not giving it much credence. Before his return, Sam had requested that I begin a search for what he had started to call “MSI’s World Headquarters” in Winnipeg. I’d seen some spaces in various buildings and, knowing what would be acceptable to Sam, my first choices were in the Pantages Playhouse building or Centennial Concert Hall. Unfortunately, there was nothing available in the Pantages and the Concert Hall had restricted office-access times. After a bit more looking, I found a nice suite of rooms downtown at 93 Lombard and managed to negotiate a reduced-rate lease by paying a whole year’s rent in advance. That’s the way Sam liked to work.

For the past ten years we had used my dining room table as our office and, more recently, a somewhat more formal office in the sunroom of my house. Because it had been only the two of us for so long, I was now more of a business partner; once I became Vice President and CFO, my input was a lot more integral to the decision-making and operation of the Company. With this downtown office plan, I was not reacting as I thought I would. The prospect of putting in an 8- hour day like a “real” businessman was not at all appealing. As the Company had grown, I thought nothing of last minute requests for budgets or finding a substitute player or addressing a crisis at any time, 24/7. At home all the files were at my fingertips, and I could dash off a budget in my pajamas at midnight (which I’d done many times)! But with the computers and files someplace else and “formal” office hours, I wouldn’t be able to do that … and really didn’t want to. Sam and I went back and forth about what he expected in this more structured setting. I was in a huge internal conflict, one that would not be resolved quickly … or easily.

As all this was happening, the “Christmas Carol” CD had moved into the manufacturing phase. We had spent time looking at submitted artwork but nothing leapt out at me. I found some of the work rather odd, images that had nothing to do with the story or its theme, abstract “art” that was just plain weird and made me shake my head in confusion. Olaf had been pushing for something contemporary and Clint was leaning toward a more traditional feel. We ended up going somewhat traditional in the image but rather contemporary in the execution and the result seemed to please all of us. The images were printed off and sent to McNally-Robinson, a local bookstore, to Chapters Books and to Safeway for reactions. Walmart had also expressed interest and, of course, Dalnavert was anxious to get a shipment.

I had written some liner notes telling of my long personal experience with the story and that was it for the cover. The demo music we’d been using wasn’t going to happen as I was pretty sure that guitarist Christopher Parkening and the King’s College Choir weren’t going to allow us to use their recordings without shelling out a boatload of money in royalties. So, with Olaf’s incredible music skills and a group of singers from his studio, we managed to produce a very acceptable arrangement of “In Dulci Jubilo” and a baroque lute concerto along with some other “atmospherics”. They sounded wonderful. Our first order was for 2000 albums and the thought was that our financial outlay would be recouped in short order. We held our breaths.

The closing of “Crazy” was sad. We had been selling out and the winding down reminded me of my past Rainbow end-of-season experiences. It was usually getting cold and rainy by the end of August and a sense of loss and desolation had set in as the final performances hit the stage. I was aware of imminent departures, and felt a diminishing of the excitement and energy that had buoyed us for the months we’d been together. The show had been warm and comfortable and while there were no tears at the closing, I could tell that everyone was wistful. The feeling continued for the week after the Stage shut down and then I had the meeting with Ken at the office.

There had been murmurings of shows for this new Winter slot – “Annie”, “Grease” “Buddy-The Buddy Holly Story” – but those titles hadn’t interested me at all. Neither kids nor rock music were turn-ons for me, so I approached this meeting with some trepidation. Fortunately, the rumours had been based in nothing and the show they wanted me to direct was “Singin’ In The Rain”! I said yes immediately! Scott Drewitz was on board as choreographer, a brilliant choice because of his energy and inventiveness, and a good friend! I realized that the technical aspects of the show would be daunting, in particular the rain and creating the silent film sequence. Both would require a great deal of rehearsal time, a lot of money, organization and preparation. The casting would also have to be perfect … and the costumes and the sets and the orchestra … and we were only five months from opening! My mind went into overdrive. But that wasn’t all. They had already decided that the following summer’s show would be “42^nd Street”! And they wanted me to play ‘Julian Marsh’. Needless to say, I accepted on the spot and, to put it mildly, I WAS BACK … in spades!!

We had seven different projects going for Music Services and it seemed that since Sam’s return, all the the details thereof were washing up onto my piled-high-with-paper desk at home. There were times when I couldn’t find a needed file in the stacks that were piled on every surface and I’m a very organized person. “Fosse” was about to go into rehearsal for a Tour, we were hiring audition pianists for Tokyo’s Disneyland, “Forever Swing” in Toronto was about to start up, the orchestra for “Into The Woods” in Edmonton was still being contracted, “Oliver” was in need of a sub keyboard player and Manilow was still in prep for the Tour and some recording sessions. The calls coming into my office were constant and I was just keeping my head above water. Then Sam did something he’d never done before … he invested in one of our shows.

Over the years, we had managed to keep ourselves out of that part of the business. While we produced shows, we never used the Company’s money. Investors were always found to provide the funds to get a show up. Using the Company’s money added a risky element to our involvement. But “Forever Swing – The Big Band Musical” was personal for Sam, and I transferred $50K from our coffers to the show’s account. Swing was the music he loved most of all and over years of playing it he’d become an authority on the style and its performance. While not playing in the show, he had gathered together some of the best jazz musicians in the country for the Orchestra. He’d overseen the instrumentation and new arrangements (by the great Dave Pierce) and was now involved in the plans for the recording, the merchandising, the publicity, the production personnel and just about every other aspect of the show. It was very strange to see him wearing this new hat if only because it changed him a bit. He was edgier and more impatient than usual. He had been keeping an eagle eye on ticket sales and while previews had gone well enough with standing ovations and all, the “real” houses after opening were the big question. I could feel his anxiety whenever we talked on the phone. Time would tell.

Not to let the grass grow under my whatever, I wasted no time getting into the preparations for “Singing In The Rain”. I was feeling slightly desperate because I knew the best performers were starting to be or had already been snapped up for Fall and Winter productions across the country. The initial auditions in Winnipeg were somewhat of a bust with very few castable and that alarmed me. The principal roles were being hand-picked rather than auditioned and locking people in was an infuriatingly slow process, especially with such short notice. It took time (and some negotiating) to get the main trio set but I was very happy with Danny Austin (who had just done the role over the summer in Ontario) as ‘Don Lockwood’, Shannon Phoenix (from “Crazy”) as ‘Kathy’ and Michael Donald (from the old Rainbow days) as ‘Cosmo Brown’. Subsequent Winnipeg auditions had yielded an acceptable ensemble and some wonderful featured performers, notably Jennifer Lyon who would be playing ‘Lina Lamont’.

For some reason (which I have either forced myself to forget or never knew to begin with) the show was scheduled to open and play for a week in Brandon, a small town two plus hours outside Winnipeg. I think it was an element of Rainbow’s outreach mandate and, as part of this arrangement, we were to audition people in Brandon for walk-ons and extras in the run there, supposedly making the locals feel connected to the event. But the dismal array of folks (mostly high school kids) paraded before us over an entire day of auditions was downright depressing. There was a line stretching out the door of the auditorium when we arrived, and we settled in not expecting much. Sixty folks were seen and fifty-nine were rejected. No one had prepared! “Happy Birthday” must have been sung two dozen times and “Tomorrow” from “Annie” echoed off the walls the concrete rehearsal room over and over again. What were these people thinking? Only one lady was very prepared, had a great voice and personality and a bit of age weight (which is to say she was an Adult) and we accepted her on the spot. And, with a whimper, the show was cast.

I had held off getting emotionally attached to the idea of moving to New York for a long time. I could say I was mentally attached but had prevented myself from allowing it to infiltrate my heart. Only the details were preventing me from fully committing. When would this happen?  What do I do with the house? Do I rent it? Do I sell it? Do we get an office/apartment in New York? I certainly didn’t want to relinquish the lifestyle to which I’d become accustomed, but I was slowly resigning myself to the fact that I wouldn’t have a home there like I had here. How much were we willing to pay for a place. All of these questions had been posed a couple of years earlier when Sam had asked me to suss out a pied-a-terre there for him. How do we establish the Company there? We had a reputation of course, but there was the question of being a Canadian working for a Canadian Company in the US and all that that entailed legally. I was prepared to give up acting but what kind of status would I have down there? What to do with the car? All these unknowns gave me headaches and were not easy to ignore and they preyed on me.

I went into rehearsals for “King Lear” right after “Crazy” closed. I’d not auditioned for the show but had been cast, sight unseen, by Martha Henry on recommendations. Mind, I was playing a small part, a combination of a number of roles now being called “The Gentleman Knight” who would pop up at various points in the play, facilitating the movement of the plot. Meeting Martha for the first time on the first day of rehearsals, I was somewhat anxious. She didn’t know me from Adam and although I knew her from an idolizing distance, introducing myself was almost an apology. Her grace and charm eased my apprehension as she hugged me and said “Welcome! I’ve heard a lot about you and I’m looking forward to working with you”. She was incredibly soft spoken and simply oozed class and thoughtfulness. Her approach to all of us gathered at the Cast introductions was considerate and generous. Just the way she spoke made me want to work for her approval and do my best for her. While I was impressed with her approach – firm, concise and commanding – I felt like I wanted to protect her. From what, I had no idea, but she projected a slight vulnerability that seemed to need sheltering and care. I would have done anything for her.

Our cast was made up of a lot of Toronto stalwarts – the ever-dangerous (for me) Stephen Russell, the remarkable Teddy Atienza, David Janzen, Alex Poch-Golden and, as ‘Lear’, Paxton Whitehead. Early on in the process, I had to ask a huge favour of Martha. I had been awarded The Larry McCance Award by Actors’ Equity and had been invited to accept it in Toronto. The date would, miraculously, coincide with the Opening Night of “Forever Swing” but I was very nervous about my request for an extra day off. Since it was an Equity event she insisted that I had to attend and not to give it a second thought. “Lear” had a Saturday morning rehearsal at which Martha, much to my great surprise, made the announcement of my going off to accept the award (much applause and accolades from the cast) and I was on a plane that afternoon.

The “Swing” opening was incredible! Sam was in seventh heaven as was the audience, including my Mom who was completely swept away by the music she and my Dad had loved so much. The Big Band sound was so finely tuned and committed that one couldn’t help but get caught up in the joy of the Oldies – Glen Miller, The Dorsey Bothers, Benny Goodman, Duke Ellington – and the response was over the top. At intermission, I’d gone out for a cig and returned to find that Mom had been “talking” to folks around our seats. People in our row and behind us began shaking my hand and patting me on the shoulder for such a great show. “What did you tell them?” I hissed at her after the attention had ebbed. “That you had produced the show” she said. I sank low in my seat until the lights went down for the second Act. Mom always seemed to take such great joy in announcing to anyone within earshot that I was her son and had much more to do with a production than I actually did. But it gave her pleasure so I couldn’t get too pissed off.

She was also with me the following afternoon as I accepted the Award. It was a very classy luncheon at the Elmwood Club, and everyone had on their Sunday best. Having never been to one of these events before I was in the dark about how they worked. There were a number of other awards being handed out and each was proceeded by a speech about the recipient. I had no idea that Manitoba Equity Councilor Donna Fletcher had penned an introduction to be read by friend Frank Ruffo. I was mightily humbled by what she had written and overwhelmed as the folks in the room rose to their feet applauding as I walked up to the lectern. I had prepared a small thank-you in iambic pentameter (as I’d done in the past for a couple of “Manitoba Reports” at National Council Meetings) and that went down a treat. Mom was beaming when I returned to the table. She had been an integral part of my journey and I told the audience that in my remarks. She leaned over and kissed me, and my weekend was over. Too quickly I was back in Winnipeg and hit the ground running going directly from the airport to rehearsal. No one had really noticed that I’d been away, and I slipped back into the routine without too much fuss.

I was massively aware of Paxton. I’d seen him on TV many times and was always intrigued by the rather snooty characters he carried off to perfection. I knew of his work both on stage and off at the Shaw Festival but now here he was, right in front of me every day, working diligently to get this greatest of Shakespeare’s roles into his mouth and body. His focus was absolute but calm and he was very approachable to anyone who stopped by the little cove he had made for himself tucked away in a corner surrounded by rehearsal furniture and props. He was very funny, droll (much like the characters he played in the sitcoms) and, I could tell, just a bit nervous about this huge mountain of a role he had to climb every day. It must have been exhausting but even in his mid-sixties his energy was boundless. As we progressed, he seemed grow physically bigger with each run and by the time we got into previews, he was eating scenery to beat the band. His “Blow winds and crack your cheeks” scene was frightening and spellbinding, like watching an accident happening – fearsome to look at but unable to avert your eyes. Eight times a week he pulled it out, never faltering, committed to the journey. It was rare to experience such a performance and I was grateful for the opportunity.

Unlike Paxton, “Swing” in Toronto was faltering. Sam was determined to keep it open and while our producing royalties kept flowing in, ticket sales were not doing well. Houses were at 50% and falling. Breaking even was out of the question and the show’s future looked very dim indeed. But, like a dog with a bone, Sam wasn’t about to give up!