The theatrical evolution of “Joseph And The Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat” has been extensively documented – from its genesis as a 15-minute “pop cantata” in the late sixties into a world-wide “mega-musical” sensation – and by the time I got my hands on it, thirty-five years had passed since its premiere. While I had no illusions about reinventing the proverbial wheel, I wanted to give Rainbow’s production some kind of relatable contemporary context. So we came up with the idea of our production being the entertainment at a Church Choir Annual Family Picnic. This was also a way of facilitating Ken’s steadfast desire to incorporate a lot of kids to populate the stage during the Grand Finale and Bows number commonly called “The Megamix”. More about that number in a minute.

            As was always the case, and only because Ken loved doing it, the number of kids we should use became a negotiation. I understood his reasoning … the more kids, the more parents, family and friends who would buy tickets … but his number was a frightening prospect. He wanted one hundred youngsters! I had thought forty or so would be more than enough, and we bargained for weeks. We decided that it would come down to how many kids turned up for the auditions and how many were talented enough to be chosen. I was sure my lower number would prevail! The auditions took place over four days – the first two to see kids and the rest for the adults. I arrived bright and early on Day One. There were already a mob of kids and parents in the Lobby of the large Korol Rehearsal Hall downstairs at the Pantages Theatre. As I walked in, Ken was setting up the tables for us and some staff was dealing with an electric keyboard and auxiliary amp. Chorus Director Zane Zallis was there too. I put my stuff down on the table and Ken came over.

            “Are you ready for this?” he asked

            “As ready as I’ll every be, I guess. How many kids are we seeing?” I said. He handed me a sheaf of paper.

            “Two hundred and seventeen, but there might be a few no-shows.” The number had rolled off his tongue like he was telling me what time it was. I almost fell over backwards.

            “What?? You’re joking, right??”

            “Nope. They just kept calling and we kept adding names.” My mouth was hanging open by now. “We figured we’d allow them each two or three minutes to sing”, he said. I couldn’t form words and kept stammering. “I know, I know” he said seeing my response. “It won’t be too bad. We’ll just keep them moving.” The prospect of getting through more than a hundred kids each day overwhelmed me. How would this be possible?

            But there was no time to think about any of that as one of Ken’s Assistants came in and asked “Ready?” And it began.

            I was in the center of the table with Ken and Zane on either side of me. The parade of young talent seemed endless. We never knew who would be coming through the door until the Assistant announced a name. It was a long walk from the door to the middle of the room in front of our table. The Assistant would take their music to the accompanist, and we would chat with the youngster for a moment trying to make things comfortable and “normal”. Even as a seasoned pro, I always found walking into an audition room to be extraordinarily abnormal. The atmosphere was artificial, tense and never “safe”. There was no two ways around the fact that you were being judged like livestock at a county fair. For most of the kids, this was their first time. Some were good, some were terrible, some were happy and excited to be there, but most were terrified, and there were moments that just broke your heart. There was one little boy in a bow tie who came in with his mother. As soon as the studio door clicked shut behind him he froze with fear and began to cry. I came out from behind the table as did Ken and we rushed to him telling him it was alright. No amount of reassurance would stop his sobbing. I said I would sing with him if he wanted, but there was no way he was going to open his mouth. He left as he had arrived, still frightened to death and crying, probably scarred for life by the experience. After that, I stayed in front of the table, relaxed and moving about, trying to be accessible and involved. Every young voice student in town was turning up to sing their party piece. It was then that I made a vow that should I ever be called on to audition kids again (and I would be) I would demand that the Audition Notice make clear that no one was to sing “Tomorrow” from “Annie” as their audition song.

After the two exhausting days we had narrowed it down to 68 kids, all of them talented, high-powered singers, and all of them, God help us, very precocious. That number eventually got whittled down to 64, but it was still too many to my mind. How would I control that number of youngsters? How would we mic them all? Costume them all? What would happen with them when they were off-stage? This did not bode well!

            The adults took up the rest of the schedule. We saw more than 80 for the Singing and Dance Ensembles. ‘Joseph’s’ eleven ‘Brothers’ took some time to cast but we ended up with a great combination of ages, the right number of baritones and tenors, most of them from in-town, all of them inventive and personable. And what a super sound they made together! The total cast was 96! My main three performers were crackerjack! With Stacey Nattrass as ‘The Narrator’ I felt we were well-anchored. She had an incredible voice and sparkling personality, and we took advantage of these qualities, bypassing any “performing” tendencies – the ‘Narrator’ stands apart in the show and guides the audience along, more a motivational speaker than anything else – and settling into a very natural delivery. I was over the moon to have Nick Matthew (‘Tony’ in “West Side Story”) back to do ‘Joseph’ and also Kevin Aichele, too long in the background in Rainbow shows, who suited the Elvis-clone ‘Pharaoh’ to a ‘T’. With the staggeringly inventive Bill Robertson at my side, we would launch into rehearsals with only a soupçon of trepidation. That was on the surface. Privately, I was terrified!

            Just before “official” rehearsals began, we brought all the kids and their parents together to sketch out the process. Thankfully most of the kids had been involved in school shows before so this was just a reminder to everyone, particularly the Moms and Dads, of the fundamental importance of complete commitment from beginning to end. They understood. Then we sang. We took them through “Any Dream Will Do” to get the lay of the land and quickly realized that in the cavernous space that is Rainbow Stage, without each kid being mic-ed they would never be heard … even though there were sixty-four of them. So, as much as I hated it, augmenting their acoustic sound with pre-recorded vocal tracks would have to be the route to go. Same thing would have to happen with “The Megamix” – the huge 9-minute Finale re-capping most of the songs in the show … and certainly the only idea the original Producers could come up with to lengthen the production and justify the Broadway ticket prices. While the rest of the Cast was included in this number we would still have to go to tracks again to get the right sound. I knew that conducting to a click-track through headphones (the sound only the Musical Director hears to keep the live and recorded tempos synchronized) would drive our Musical Director John Miller nuts, but fortunately, the “Singin’ In The Rain” experience some years earlier provided us with a bit of a roadmap for this approach.

            Everything seemed to fall into place over the next few weeks. Much to my amazement, Ken wanted to spend more money on sets and to my further amazement, I was the one telling him that we didn’t need to! I didn’t want a cluttered stage … at least not for the First Act. The Second Act was a bit more complex. We had rented the “Egypt Set” from an American company, and I was pleased with how it looked when we set it up backstage at the Theatre. But Ken still wanted to buy things. I managed to talk him out of it telling him that we could use “found objects”, stuff lying around at the Stage when we needed something. Same thing with the costumes. I wanted the Biblical Costumes to look like they were from the Church’s Christmas or Easter Pageant stock, and the contemporary clothes could be coordinated from the personal wardrobes of the actors. Anything we couldn’t find, particularly the Egyptian outfits, would be built in-house. To bolster the overall look, I told our lighting designer, Scott Henderson, to go crazy filling the stage with as much colour as he could manage!

The recording session for the tracks with the kids went well enough. It took an entire day, but the end result sounded pretty good. The time also gave the group an opportunity to know each other a little better, and it also let me know who among the 64 we would have to keep eyes on – the clowns, the disrupters – and there were a few who made themselves known rather quickly. Thankfully, we had arranged for “wranglers”, a permanent foursome who would be backstage with the kids constantly, maintaining discipline and keeping them occupied when they weren’t performing. I held my breath.

            With only three weeks from the start of rehearsals to the single Preview, we plunged right into three days of music. The show was sung-through (no spoken dialogue) so this focused time would stand us in good stead once I began staging. We had great singers to work with and, while there was the usual push and pull between me and Zane about phrasing choices or blend, the sound ended up being exactly what I wanted. These music days also gave everyone the shape of the show and what happens vocally and emotionally in telling of the story. But even after all those hours, there were still constant ad hoc refreshers that popped up for individuals and small groups with our irrepressible rehearsal pianist, Danny Carroll. Those happened right up to tech.

            Without the kids, I’d taken care of most of the Principal staging over the rest of that first week; but then came the first Saturday morning when we were to stage the show’s opening – the gigantic picnic scene with the entire cast when the production’s environment is set up for the audience. We were working in the Manitoba Theatre For Young People space, a large stadium-seating configuration with a wide open stage area. By the time the call began, the audience area was packed with kids and their parents – almost 200 people. I introduced our wranglers, three girls and a guy in their late teens, all affable and high energy young people who would ultimately make everyone’s life easier. I made some opening remarks, reminding the excited youngsters that we were now in “work mode” and that paying attention was essential. I told them that this process was going to take some time because everyone had to be placed on stage and told what to do. I began with the 32 adults, arranging them in groups around the picnic tables. I worked methodically but maybe slower than I could have if only because I was forestalling the inevitable. When I thought the stage picture with the adults looked right, I turned out to the sea of people sitting in the house. “Okay. I’m almost afraid to say this”. Knowing what was coming the parents and the cast on stage all laughed. I took a very deep and somewhat theatrical breath and stretched out my arms.  “Could I have all the kids on stage, please?”

            Before I finished the sentence, a wall of young humans rose up before me and I involuntarily took a step back. The noise they made standing up filled the room, and then the rapid sidling movement along the rows toward the aisles threw the space into utter turmoil. The chattering and sound of feet on the stairs, the surging tide of arms and legs and bodies that started to fill the stage was astonishing. And they just kept coming. The throng gathering around me grew larger with each passing second, excited, talking at each other, waving at parents who were still laughing at the commotion, and it was all I could do to stop myself from running off the stage and out of the theatre.

“Okay, Okay”, I said clapping my hands, and they settled down … a little. Another “Okay” and I got silence. I scanned the eager young faces staring at me. “I want you all to turn and look at where you are”. Heads turned. “This is home. This is where you live, and these are the people you live with. And there’s one word I want you all to remember”. I stopped just to make sure that everyone’s focus was back on me. “Respect. For the process. And for each other”. I held for another moment and let the silence grow. “Now, let’s get started”.

I had to work fast to get them connected to the already-placed adults. I knew the grown-ups would keep them calm and under some degree of control. I took a quick look at them and just went for it. Five here, seven over there, nine with this group, four more at that table … and on it went. There were only a few “Quiet, please” pleas and before it got too out of hand, I had it done. It looked good, a bit crowded, but acceptable. Now I wanted them to get the feel for how the show started, so we just began. Everything starts with ‘The Narrator’s’ “Prologue”, so they had something to watch and listen to. Danny started playing the intro and Stacey, to whom I’d already given the blocking, walked downstage slightly and began. “Some folks dream of the wonders they’ll do …”. She moved about, playing to the group and to the audience. I just stood and watched. There was nothing for me to do because everyone was hearing Stacey for the first time and responding honestly, rapt by her glorious voice and completely focused on her. She took her instructions from the song’s lyrics and delivered them to individuals as she moved about the space. I got a lump in my throat a number of times because everyone was simply reacting to her. She then brought Nick (‘Joseph’) out of the group as she sings “In the story of a boy whose dream came true” and we were into “Any Dream Will Do”.

            To say I was moved would be an understatement. Except for Nick, I hadn’t told anybody what to do, it was all happening naturally. I was standing at the edge of the stage looking at this hoard of people as Nick began “I closed my eyes, drew back the curtain …”, another beautiful voice filling the room, and I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I could also sense the parents in the house behind me having the same reaction. Then the kids joined in, echoing each of Nick’s lines as he started the second verse … “I wore my coat (I wore my coat), with golden lining (ah-ah-ah)”. They were angelic, these young piping voices in harmony, in innocence and perfectly in tune. When the number was finished, the cast and all the folks out front applauded … for a long time. I could see people wiping their eyes. I let all the emotion settle a bit, and then we got down to detailing. That first couple of hours set the tone for the time ahead.

            The days that followed were intense. The hybrid nature of the show – sometimes it’s deep into the Story, sometimes it’s just a Cabaret – presented problems in the “cross-overs”, those murky areas between “Staging” and “Dancing”, particularly in the Second Act. I pay great homage to Bill and his creativity in combining both elements in his choreography, making everyone look good but not dumbing down dance steps too much and still getting the “look” I wanted. But as time went on I found myself wondering why I wasn’t feeling connected to the show. It felt like I was on the outside looking in. I had basically given over a lot of time to Bill and Zane to set the dance and music elements and had yet to put my own stamp onto the show. I realized that getting into the production was, in itself, the difficulty. The show is relentless. There is no dialogue, no conversation, no “down time”. The songs stand by themselves and follow one on top of the other. Trying to direct a bit at a time didn’t work because we would have to go back to the start of a song to re-find the arc and incorporate the change. The stopping and starting was exhausting for everyone, and I found myself resorting to just taking notes and talking people through the bits that needed attention hoping the changes would stick the next time we put the number on its feet. It meant leaving out some details, especially underlying intentions and emotions and, more particularly, defining focus. There was rarely less than a dozen people on stage at any time and trying to discern who was supposed to be the center of attention was very hard to control. But I slogged on.

            Working with the kids took a lot of energy. I was thankful that we’d resorted to name tags for the kids. There were so many of them! But there were a few who’s names stuck with me right away. There was Rori, an eight-year-old girl who had the most wonderful smile that crinkled up her eyes … and she smiled all the time. And there was Brendan, another eight-year-old. He was always just a hair’s breadth behind the beat when dancing but completely oblivious to the fact, in a world of his own and having the most fun ever. Amazingly, it was from the infectious joy of the kids that I found my way into “Joseph”. It perhaps took me too long, but I realized there was nothing cerebral about this show. It was just fun! It just flowed by itself. There was no point in imposing anything heavy or “dramatic” on it; it was what it was – an entertainment and nothing more. And that settled me down a lot.

            There was no doubt that the Adults were having a good time too. They had connected with each other, and with Stacey, Nick and Kevin leading the tone and quality of the performances, everyone was excited to move to the Stage for the final stretch. That’s when it really came together for me. I could finally see the bigger picture. Scott Henderson’s lighting was a miracle of colour and dazzle as I had requested. It was just as I’d seen it in my head once I’d succumbed to the fact that the show was indeed “One Great Big Cabaret Revue”. I kept telling the Cast that I wished they could see how magnificent it looked from out front. Another thing that lifted me was that Rainbow’s historically bad sound had been completely re-vamped with a new state-of-the-art system. It would certainly get a work-out during this show!

In the middle of the final rehearsal week, Ken had come to me with the idea of starting Act Two with what we ended up calling “The Mini-Mix”, modeled after “The Mega-Mix”. I agreed. This would be another concoction of songs in Act One done by the kids alone. It got a lot of attention in those last days – vocal arrangements, orchestra arrangements, choreography. If nothing else, by the end of the night, the audience would know all the show’s songs by heart! The combination of the new sound system, deck mic-ing, the pre-recorded tracks and live singing would served to give the vocals CD-quality sound in the house. It was uplifting all ‘round and I was very pleased.

            The opening was spectacular!! “The Mini-Mix” at the top of the Second Act stopped everything with a standing ovation! I couldn’t believe it … right in the middle of the show. Of course that only happened on Opening Night with parents and grandparents and aunts and uncles leading the response, but it certainly set the bar for the rest of the run. The reviews were ecstatic in the days following. One headline read “Songs So Nice They Perform Them Thrice” referring to the “Mini-Mix” and “Mega Mix” numbers. The Cast maintained throughout the run, although I did have to excise some “improvements” early on. I kept going back because I ended up liking the production so much – it was simply wonderful to watch and hear!

            The kids took the Closing the hardest. It had been Summer Camp for them – great fun, a lot of new friends and a great deal of attention. A lot of tears flowed that final night, during and after the performance. I even found myself getting a bit teary-eyed as I watched the last “Mega-Mix” dance off into the history books. The show broke Rainbow records and ended up bringing in more than a million dollars at the box office, all of which painted a rosy picture for Rainbow seasons ahead.

            The time that followed seemed commonplace compared to the previous weeks. I did some Workshops for NATS (National Association of Teachers of Singing) and then headed off to New York to see some shows. Travelled down to Portland to sing at a Fundraiser for the Portland Art Museum’s “Triumph of French Painting” Exhibit, got musicians hired for a huge U.S. Christmas Concert Tour with Sarah Ferguson and Angela Lansbury, contracted another Barry Manilow Special, this one for A&E, and started preparations for a huge Tour MSI had been hired to contract – “The Music of the Night – The Music Of Andrew Lloyd Webber” with a Kennedy Center start a year away. Then, I finally put myself in a “My Fair Lady” headspace as December began.