Doing Our Best to Make Things Jolly

Written: February 2, 2007.

In December of 2005, a branch of the International Gilbert & Sullivan Festival came to New York for a weekend of G&S celebration and fun. I was living in Providence at the time, and I came down for part of the festivities. A number of Brits had flown in for the event, which was organized by NYC’s Sam Silvers, who is a friend of mine through Savoynet.

People first gathered together on Thrusday, December 1. I wasn’t involved. Friday afternoon there was an outdoor sing at Lincoln Center, which I also missed. Friday evening, however, was a ‘Pot Luck’ sing-through of Pirates, in which I was conscripted to sing Samuel. At that event I met, among other people, Louis Dall’Ava, a NYGASP regular I later saw in Rose of Persia as the executioner.

Saturday December 3 was a concert. I attended a rehearsal in the afternoon, and the concert was in the evening. It was something of a G&S variety show; Neil Smith asked me to sing Bunthorne in his duet with Lady Jane, and Ko-Ko with an appropriately updated “Little List”. Here is what I came up with:

As some day it may happen that a victim must be found,
I’ve got a little list — I’ve got a little list
Of society offenders who might well be underground,
And who never would be missed — who never would be missed!
There’s the pestilential nuisances who write for autographs —
All people who have flabby hands and irritating laughs —
All children who are up in dates, and floor you with ‘em flat —
All persons who in shaking hands, shake hands with you like that —
And all third persons who on spoiling tête-á-têtes insist —
They’d none of ‘em be missed — they’d none of ‘em be missed!

There’s the tenor who enthuses with his GARISH FORTE TONE!!!! [Very loudly, on a high note]
He never will desist! — I’ve got him on the list!
And the minor lead who points out every flaw except her own
She never would be missed! I’ve got her on the list!
There’s the overzealous chorister with rubber for a face [here, make an exaggeratedly enthusiastic facial expression]
And the patter man who’s sure that down and center is his place
And the lady who does musicals, and recently she’s felt
That the problem with light op’ra is, we sing instead of BELT!
And that singular anomaly, the diva solipsist–
I don’t think she’d be missed — I’m sure she’d not be missed!

And the one who treats “ensnarl” and “general” as if they rhyme
The amateur parodist — his rhyming and his scansion are bad!
The conductor and the pianist who can’t keep up the time [here, the magnificent Dr. Clive Woods drags terribly]–
[To him:] Stay with the soloist, or I’ll put you on the list!
And the internet savoyards of a compromising kind,
Such as — What d’ye call him — Thing’em-BLOG, and SAVOYNnnn…ever-mind,
And tut-tut-tut and What’s-his-name, and also You-know-who —
The task of filling up the blanks I’d rather leave to you.
But it really doesn’t matter whom you put upon the list,
For they’d none of ‘em be missed — they’d none of ‘em be missed!

It was fun.

That evening was also the first time I met Richard Holmes; I’d seen him in Buxton and worshiped him as a god, and our mutual friend Andi asked him to email me some advice when I was doing Bunthorne in Houston in a guest artist situation, so we’d been in contact, but that was our face-to-face meeting. He’s a delightful man. At the time, I was somewhat mortified by the schedule of the program, as my “Little List” was immediately after his “Time Was”. How can I follow him? But of course, the contrast in style was gigantic, and it was fine.

A gentleman named John W. Tomlinson sent me some photos he took from the concert. Here they are.

That’s me in the black suit front and center in the first one, singing the list song. The other two pictures are of me doing my first-and-last-ever Frederic; Rebecca Hains wanted a prop as she sang “Poor Wand’ring One”.

As I write this, in January 2007, I’m approaching the tenth anniversary of my first experience with Gilbert & Sullivan. In 1995, my moved from California, where I’d spent the first fourteen years of my life, to Midland, Michigan, where I was to spend the next four. In 1997, I auditioned for the local summer youth theater programs at the Midland Center for the Arts. There were three youth groups every summer, at the time: Interim Theater, which did plays, Teenage Musicals, Inc., which did Broadway-type musicals, and the Gilbert & Sullivan Workshop. I auditioned for all three shows: The Wall, a Holocaust-era serious play, Crazy for You, the Gershwin musical, and The Sorcerer. I was offered some role in The Wall — I can’t remember the details — and Dr. Daly in The Sorcerer. I remember having a bit of a hard time deciding which to do (the rehearsals overlapped considerably), but I ended up doing Sorcerer. Thus began my love affair with G&S. Sometimes I wonder how different my life would be if I’d taken the other role instead.

I was fifteen and didn’t really know how to sing; I’m sure I wasn’t very good. I used to have video of all my Midland productions, but sadly, I leant them to a friend a few years ago and they ended up getting lost. I’d actually be extremely curious to see some of those old productions, to compare them against my memories. I remember that there was a review in our local paper, but unfortunately, I don’t have a copy any more.

The way I remember it, I was out-classed by my fellow principals. I think I was one of the worse performers there. I remember rehearsing the quinet, “I rejoice that it’s decided” over and over again; it took a surprisingly long time to discover that I was the one who was messing it up. I was particularly impressed by Dave Nadolski, who played Mr. Wells; watching him, I think, was a large part of what got me interested in the patter roles. I was always the most excited about the patter baritones, although it would be several years before I actually did my first Grossmith role (Ko-Ko at Rice in 2001). Dave was everything I thought a patter baritone should be. Here he is:

That’s Dave’s sister Kate to his left, listed in the program as “Old, Old Hag”.  I’m sitting below him, with dark lines on my face. That means I’m old. I’m with Melissa Whitaker, whom I remember as a very fine Constance. I haven’t been in touch with any of these people in years. Maybe I’ll try to look them up and invite memories for this page.

Here are a couple more pictures:

Here’s Anna Bensch as Mrs. Partlett, with Dave, me, and Melissa again, obviously in the Act I Finale. And then me with Jennifer Letcher, at “Oh joyous boon.” Jennifer had a beautifully clear soprano for Aline. I was embarrassed to be singing with her.
The director for the production was Carol Rumba, a wonderful woman I had several chances to work with. Much of my early enthusiasm for G&S I owe to her.

Pages from the program:

That cartoon sorcerer was courtesy of Mike “Gilligan” Bennett, who was a friend of mine and also in that chorus. Come to think of it, I think we probably met in that show.

My bio in the program ran thus:

Jonathan Ichikawa (Dr. Daly) - attends Dow H.S. and is a member of the International Thespian Society.  He is an active member fo te drama club and has appeared in Into the Woods, The Playroom, and Fools.

Boring!

As may be clear from my recap of the show, I had a mixed experience with The Sorcerer. I loved the material and the people I was working with, but I felt constantly a couple of steps behind.  Looking back on it, I’m sure that I recognized how much more fun it would be to be really on top of all of the material; I’m a very different performer now.

Ooh, I really wish I could get a look at that video!