There was no down time to fall into once back home. Despite the fact that I’d been in LA for only four days, the work had continued to pile up, so the morning following my return found me at my desk as the sun rose. The one saving grace was that the house was pretty well in order. It had been a year since moving in and now everything was where it was supposed to be. There were decorating details that kept popping up and needing attention, but my office was perfection … and that was the “saving grace”. My deep-seated need for organization and order had been made manifest in the space on the lower level, a large, bright and comfortably appointed room. I could sit at my desk with everything within arm’s reach, feeling in control and able to handle just about anything.

By now, Sam had me quarterbacking (as he called it) a ridiculous number of projects. We still had shows on the road – Manilow, Jann Arden – along with some bewildering productions – “The Masque Effect”, “Frank – A Life In Song”, “The Heroes of September”, “The Wonder Of It All” – which had bubbled up from nowhere and were verging on going back to the same place. There were some odd one-offs we’d been hired to contract like the CFL Half-time Show and the Canadian Intensive Care Fundraiser. “Forever Swing” was still touring as was “Patsy” (the “big version”) and “Anne of Green Gables”. We were overseeing the recording sessions for the Royal Winnipeg Ballet’s “Sleeping Beauty” Tour, and preparations had started for the oddest job of the lot – the four-day Wedding Celebration of an Alberta Oil Baron’s daughter, for which we’d been given an astonishing music budget of $100,000.00 – and we were bringing musicians and performers in from all parts of the country.

Of course, ground work continued for our Broadway entree, the premiere of the stage version of “Chitty Chitty, Bang Bang”. Sam was hell-bent on taking over John Monaco’s contracting empire in New York and “Chitty” was to be our major advance into that fray! We’d long had this show on our roster, but using it to “take over” seemed dicey, at least in my mind. But Sam didn’t think like that … it was another “damn the torpedoes” approach and I was along for the ride. I kept my nose to the grindstone with budget proposals, payrolls, hiring and contracts for most of the daylight hours. In the evening I sat back and took solace in the fact that I was making good coin doing it and in a physical environment that made me very happy and content. But there were a lot of other things going on at the same time.

Rainbow’s “West Side Story” was close to starting rehearsals. With the Cast hired, I shifted my attention to the many production elements I wanted firmly in place before walking into the Rehearsal Hall. I needed all our tech staff to know exactly what was going to happen in advance of hitting the stage, for both my sake and theirs. It was a huge show and being prepared for all eventualities would put everyone’s mind at ease. Lighting Designer Scott Henderson and I had already established the lighting plot for the show, and I’d met with Paul Skirzyk, my Stage Manager, and set preliminary lighting cues. The look of the production was firmly in my head, and I could see how it was going to happen. There was no question I couldn’t answer and having it all in hand was another hurdle out of the way.

I jammed a day into the schedule to work on a film. It was called “The Many Trials of One Jane Doe” and was based on a true story about a woman who had been raped and refused to remain a victim. I had been cast in the role of ‘Dr. Jaffe’, the rape psychologist who testified at the trial. I had one nice scene in the court room as a witness for ‘Jane Doe’ and then another with the Defense Lawyer who cross examines me about my lack of knowledge of police procedures. This Defense Lawyer was being played by an actor named Gary Lewis, who, for some reason looked very familiar. Had I seen him in a movie or TV show? I just couldn’t place him. We’d been introduced briefly and after a quick rehearsal, began filming. The scene starts out calmly enough but devolves into an extended combative verbal exchange. Everything went as it should have … until it didn’t. As we approached the end of the scene I suddenly got an odd feeling that something had shifted. The Lawyer looked at me quizzically for a moment, tilting his head and squinting, like a switch had been flipped on inside him, as if he had suddenly switched gears. Then, out of nowhere, he began firing questions at me, questions that weren’t in the script. They just kept pouring out of his mouth, a torrent of words that wouldn’t stop. “Who do you think you are?” “You have no idea what you’re talking about, do you?” “This is all for show, isn’t it?” “You’re just wasting the Court’s time, aren’t you?” This verbal assault took me completely by surprise and I started to yammer. “What?” “Er …” “Um …” “I …” I looked around the room. No one was yelling “cut” and we were hurtling down this uncharted road. He had a very thick Scots accent and his voice got louder and louder until he was yelling at the top of his lungs, his face getting redder as his fury increased. The word “apoplectic” came to mind as I watched him, mesmerized, as the veins at his temples bulged. He moved in very close, and I could see the spit on his lips flying in every direction. What the hell was this! There was no escape. He had forced me into a corner, and I started yelling back. “I’m not the one on trial here!” “What right do you have to talk to me this way!” I could feel my back getting tense and the skin on my head tightening. There was a tiny part of me that knew we were acting but with our eyes locked we were well down the rabbit hole and in mortal combat. Eventually someone yelled “Cut!” and that was it. He backed off and I managed to swallow and get my breath as the room erupted in activity and noise. I looked at him and smiled a little as if to say, “You bastard!” He smiled back, leaned in and shook my hand. “That was fun”, he said. I agreed and we laughed. It wasn’t until later that I realized that Gary Lewis had been ‘Billy Elliot’s’ Father in the film. I was very glad I’d not known that in advance!

I found out that I wouldn’t start filming the second season of “2030CE” until the third episode in the middle of August. That was perfect for me. “West Side Story” would be open, and I could get a bit of time “off”. I was tugging at the bit to find out what was going to happen to ‘Victor’ and the crew. But everyone was very tight lipped. I could wait.

Robbie was now at home and on the mend. We’d done many walks, his vision was clearing up, his balance had improved greatly, and he was in good spirits. He’d relaxed and was taking the time to get better. The fact that he’d accepted that this recovery was going to take time had gone far to aid in the healing process. That set everyone’s mind at ease, and it was time to focus on “West Side Story” completely.

Sam knew that when I went into rehearsals, MSI took a back seat. I had mornings free to do the payrolls and urgent stuff, but he understood that the rest of the day was out of bounds – no frantic calls, no unreasonable demands, no get-this-done-right-away messages. The preparation I’d already done for the show allowed me to walk into the Rehearsal Hall that first day ready and open to whatever was going to happen. The cast, arrayed in front of me for the Meet and Greet, was beautiful. They were beautiful human beings both physically and spiritually. I could see and sense that when I walked into the room. There was a calm excitement in the air, nothing jangly or tense, but a feeling that they’d already been joined emotionally and psychically just by being cast in the show … and that feeling never left. With Bill (Robertson, our choreographer) at my side, we launched into something that quickly became magical and substantial.

The read-though and sing-through were beyond my expectations. Everyone was focused and committed, understanding that we were on sacred Theatrical ground. There’s a tiny bit of comedy scattered about, but, like everything else in the show, it’s tinged by an underlying desperation and danger, and, from the outset, we realized that everyone’s path is the same and where this was going to end up, unavoidably, because the characters don’t make the choices to change it. Hope rises from time to time only to be dashed, inevitably and absolutely. This was serious stuff, and everyone knew it. To make it all the more compelling, Bernstein’s music mines the story’s emotional depths, and our cast was inspired by what they had to sing. It was music they all knew very well and now they were getting to sing it “for real”. At the auditions when Nena (Lazo, now playing ‘Maria’) had walked in, I’d said a silent prayer that her voice and acting ability would match her beauty. They did. Combined with Nick Matthew’s winsome good looks and his miraculous tenor sound, they made a perfect pair you wanted to root for despite the great odds they faced. It was all magical. When Bill’s choreography started to take shape, the energy and excitement surged at rehearsals. There was no fooling around. The dances were very difficult, demanding complete focus. I knew the cast was serious because the wild summer camp partying that usually went on after rehearsals and on weekends was essentially non-existent. They were tired and drained if only because of the emotional outlay they were expending each day. There was no time for frivolities. Peter Huck (‘Bernardo”), Randy Ganne (‘Riff’) and Robyn Wong (‘Anita’) were spectacular, sexy and beautiful. I found myself on a constant high. One late afternoon on the third day of rehearsals, I was outside the theatre having a smoke. I looked up at the sky and found myself thinking that this was already a great production. I don’t know how I could tell that was the case except perhaps in my heart, but I knew that everything had aligned and was working in the right way.

There was one element about which I found myself feeling a bit sad, maybe even guilty. Our rehearsal pianist was Danny Carroll. He was the nicest guy you’d ever want to meet, accommodating, very funny and, best of all, an incredible musician. Bernstein’s score is immense. It’s huge even for a 23-piece orchestra. For a single musician playing what is called a “piano reduction” it is an absolute monster. In the second week of rehearsals, I could see him at the piano massaging his hands whenever he wasn’t playing. He had been playing for ten days, eight hours a day non-stop, at dance rehearsals, vocal rehearsals, scene rehearsals. I approached him one afternoon and asked him if he was alright. While I knew academically that it would a difficult job, I don’t think I understood what kind of toll it could take on someone physically and psychically. Danny was (and still is) usually undaunted by anything you put in front of him, but this was beyond the norm. The score was thick and intense, and every page was covered with musical complexities far beyond the regular musical theatre fare. He told me he would go home at night and soak his hands in Epsom salts trying to reduce the swelling after eight hours of pounding out the heavy dance rhythms over and over again. I asked him if there was anything I could do. Should we get another player in to give him a break? He wouldn’t hear of it. I let Bill know what Danny was going through and he thought he could pull back a bit with the dances. Fortunately by that time everything had pretty well been staged and we were getting closer to runs, but it really didn’t let up all that much for him. But Danny rose to the occasion, mustering on with his good humour and great stamina. I will always admire him for that singular effort and commitment!

The opening was an utter glory. There were some technical issues with the lumbering sets we’d been saddled with, but no one seemed to mind. Well, I minded. All I saw were four stage hands on stage between scenes pushing mightily to overcome the inertia to get a huge piece of scenery moving and taking much too much time. But the audience was as committed as the cast was and ignored the intrusion. The singing was beautiful, text-driven, so that every note was attached to a feeling that came from somewhere deep inside. Every dance step had been imbued with meaning and intention. The story was at the core of it all and propelled each moment with clarity and purpose. There was a moment at the very end when I thought my heart would burst as ‘Maria’ walks off stage following ‘Tony’s’ dead body carried high above the heads of the two gangs. A solo trumpet rises above the muted orchestra playing the two plaintive signature notes from “Somewhere”. The cyc turns blood red behind a silhouetted skyline floating in the middle of the river. Members of both gangs lift ‘Tony’s’ body high above their heads and start walking off stage. The lights slowly begin to fade as ‘Maria’ falls in line behind the cortege, the rest of the cast following behind her, all disappearing off stage as everything goes black. There was a long moment when the whole world was suspended in silence and awe. Then, a single person started clapping, unleashing the avalanche of applause from the house. Early on, I’d decided to have the curtain call done in silence. I didn’t want to break the spell that we’d created by having the orchestra wail into “America”. The whole cast slowly walked back onto the stage as a group and then took their calls. As they acknowledged the pit, the orchestra began playing “Somewhere”. They took one more company bow and left. I was overwhelmed and in love with every one of them. I could see the pride on all their faces. They knew they’d done something extraordinary.

I went back over and over again, standing way up in the rear of the theatre. That excitement we’d all experienced at opening never diminished. There were no “improvements” or let downs – it was all as I’d left it and that was probably because they were so proud of their work. As well they should have been. There had been no wrangling through the process … well, dear Peter Huck tested the water from time to time but that was only because (as we both acknowledged) he was, after all, Peter Huck and had been sent by God to keep me humble. At the opening night party I took great pleasure in watching him choke up with emotion as he made a gift presentation to me. The whole experience had re-confirmed to me an important thing I learned from working with Richard Ouzounian and with Robbie Paterson. Be available! Put yourself at the disposal of the people who are working to make your vision happen. It doesn’t work any other way … for anybody. Relinquishing ego is sometimes difficult but always crucial to communication and collaboration. The projects that were ahead (and there were a lot of them) benefitted from that foundation.

Then “2030CE” wedged itself into my life again … kind of. They had filmed two episodes by the time I’d come available but there had been some massive changes. Cory Sevier, who was playing ‘Hart’, the lead character, had suddenly been prohibited from doing the series by Disney Productions. They apparently had him on hold for a film and wouldn’t let him go. This all struck me as somewhat odd because we’d all been assured at the end of last season that were would be another. But I guess that wasn’t secure enough and Cory had put himself out there and been snatched up by a biggie. I’d looked forward to working more with him this time around but that wasn’t to be. My first episode was called “Get Victor” (that’s me) and it was a “positioning episode” for both me and the story – now that ‘Hart’ was gone. The new lead was named ‘Zeus’, a half-man, half-hawk type character, but our relationship was murky. There was another character named ‘Dax’ whose identity is apparently mixed up with mine, but I must have missed something last season as I had no inkling of his existence until we began again. The episode had a lot of medical stuff in it as we looked for a gene that has caused ‘Victor’s’ longevity and had me mixed up with this ‘Dax’ person. Try though I might, the writers were not releasing any information about what was going to happen. I did find out that ‘Hart’ was now in a “suspension pod’ somewhere but it seemed the creators were making it up as they went along. What this boded for the time ahead was anyone’s guess. I just hung on for the time being.

In the aftermath of “West Side Story”, we learned that the show had been attended by 44,000 people and had grossed $900,000.00, Rainbow’s largest ever box office. I was officially hired as the Director for next season’s Summer production of “Joseph/Dreamcoat”. I’d thrown my hat in the ring as soon as the title had come up and had also expressed an interest in doing ‘Shaw Moore’ in “Footloose” if Robbie was directing during the Winter. “Miss Saigon” was another title being thrown around, so it seemed that Rainbow was looking ahead.  I was also up for a role in a film about the killing of Manitoba Indigenous Leader J. J. Harper. The part was that of Harvey Pollock, the prosecution lawyer representing the Harper Family at the massive trial that followed the incident. Apparently my audition had caught the attention of the Producer in Toronto and Jim Heber (who had been the casting agent for “2030CD” and was now doing the same thing for this new flick) seemed to have a “good feeling” about my involvement.

Where one door opens another usually closes, the converse of the old adage, and that’s what happened with ‘Victor’. He just … disappeared. Vanished. That first “Get Victor” episode in Season Two was my last. I’d waited and waited for my next call, but it never came. In the episode, I too had been put into “cryogenic suspension” as I’d somehow become infested with “nanobots” and had to be frozen while they figured out how to “fix me”. I kept in touch with Jim, but he was as much in the dark as I was. Sadly, while things dragged on with the remainder of the scheduled episodes, the show wasn’t picked up for another season. I think the writing had been on the wall for a while. I’d had great hopes for the show. The story was interesting and challenging and I was loving ‘Victor’. I was depressed for a few days, but YTV had decided and that was it. It seemed so ruthless. Cancellations are the norm in TV and folks get used to living on the edge like that. But “being cancelled” doesn’t feel good and leaves a bit of a bad taste in your mouth. I think doing feature films is the route to go – a couple of days on set, pick up your cheque and you’re done! And now, it seemed, one of those opportunities was presenting itself.

Everything moved forward with both “Footloose” and “Joseph” as we hit October. Ken (Peter, Rainbow’s Producer) decided that we were going to hold preliminary auditions for both shows that month … a choice that was beyond me. Robbie (who’d been hired to do “Footloose”) and I saw a bunch of people – more for Robbie than me as “Footloose” was up first in the Spring – but some folks turned up for “Joseph” anyway. I cornered Ken with my wants for the ‘Joseph’ and ‘Pharaoh’ roles and he put offers out as soon as I said, “Nick Matthews and Kevin Aichele”. I wanted them nailed down right away, the rest would follow after the New Year. Choreographer was next on the list and there were a few names that rose to the top. Ken would work on arrangements. But there was another bother I had to deal with. The script we’d been sent for the show was the “Original Version”. Rodgers and Hammerstein, the licensors, weren’t holding the one I wanted – the Livent Version, which had a lot of scene extensions and musical expansions. This was the “big production” version, and I wasn’t going to settle for anything less than that. The show had had many incarnations since its inception in the late 60’s as a little 15-minute “cantata” created for an elementary school in England. It had been expanded to a 35-minute version for the Edinburgh Festival in ’72, then into an even larger production for the Young Vic Company. All these incarnations were still floating around. Ken got in touch with someone in Toronto who had done the Livent Version and he said he’d send it to us. I still wasn’t sure that what we were going to get was what we wanted and that turned into a worry for me for much too much time.