One way I celebrated surviving my wild spring semester at Carthage was to attend the opening night performance of Kenosha Unified’s production of “You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown.” My most immediate reason for wanting to go was to cheer on a voice student of mine, Landon, who was singing the role of Charlie Brown- and also because after a trying week of juries and final exams, I could think of nothing nicer than to be a simple audience member. (This is why I opted for this instead of the RTG and its second weekend of “Dirty Rotten Scoundrels,” for which I was music director. It’s impossible for me to go to a production I’ve had anything to do with – even one in really good shape – and be completely relaxed during it. But I could go to “Charlie Brown” and be just one more member of the audience. So that’s what I did- and I’m so glad.
As the music began, I started thinking about all of the ways in which I have strong and abiding connections to this show- even though I’ve never performed in it. First of all, I’m pretty sure that the first musical I ever saw performed in person was a production of “You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown” which was mounted at Luther College around the year 1970. (So I would have been 10 years old at the time.) What made it especially interesting was that it wasn’t cast with students, but rather with faculty—- and not just music faculty. (For instance, Dennis Barnaal, who was a professor of either chemistry or physics, was Charlie Brown. And I remember being so surprised that Bill Kuhlmann, Luther’s organist for many, many years, didn’t play Linus instead of Schroeder – and was fabulous!) It was done in Luther’s studio theater, which meant that we were practically onstage with the cast, and for a little kid that was pretty thrilling! Not long after that, we got an LP of the show- not the original cast recording, but one that featured Orson Bean. We wore the grooves out of that record, and I had my favorite songs in the show completely memorized, like “Little Known Facts,” in which Lucy explains the world to Linus. (Do you see this tree? It’s called a fir tree. It’s called a fir tree because it gives us fur for coats. It also gives us wool in the winter time. etc.)
A couple of years later (I think it was junior high, so either my 7th or 8th grade year) there was some kind of talent show at school – and I decided that I would sing “The Baseball Game” from the show. (I’m not positive, but I think I played for myself.) It’s this really endearing song in which Charlie Brown writes to his pen pal to tell him or her about his most recent baseball game, in which a possible (and entirely unexpected) victory crumbled when Charlie Brown struck out. I chose the song first and foremost because it could have been my theme song; I was absolutely hopeless when it came to anything we did in gym class, including softball – and I was rather Charlie Brown-ish in other ways as well. I feel like it was the very first time I ever sang a song in public in which I felt like I was actually revealing something about myself – or maybe a better way to put it is that it was the first time I sang a song that, at least on some level, was as much about me as it was about the character at hand. I remember that we performed in the junior high band room – and I have no recollection of whether or not there was an audience there aside from those of us who performed. But I can still remember singing the song, and can remember people’s surprised and delighted applause. (I was SO shy back then that I’m sure most people never imagined I could get up in front of people and do something like that.)
While I was at Luther as a student, I came across the original cast recording at the college’s radio station, KWLC, and once again I nearly wore the grooves out of that record, reveling in the performances of Gary Burghoff (the original Charlie Brown, who later gained greater fame as Radar on M*A*S*H*), Reva Rose (the original Lucy), and the Hinnant brothers (Snoopy and Linus) who I remembered from The Electric Company on T.V. I listened to that record enough that I had every measure memorized, including a complicated song like “The Book Report,” in which the main characters join together in some surprisingly complicated counterpoint as they each struggle to write a book report about “Peter Rabbit.”
Once I left Luther, this show sort of fell off of my radar – until the mid 90’s (I think) when the Racine Theater Guild undertook it, with my sister-in-law Polly in the role of Lucy. I remember getting out my recording of the show in preparation for a morning show interview (I think with Polly as well as Dave Geisler, the talented actor who played Snoopy) and as I listened to these songs for the first time in years, I realized that they were all right there, like old friends who had maybe slipped from my immediate inner circle but who were by no means entirely forgotten. And since then, I’ve had the pleasure of giving a song or two to voice students- and played for innumerable sopranos singing “My New Philosophy,” – a song penned for the most recent Broadway revival of the show. That revival retained all of the classic songs, but messed with them more than I would have liked (I’m a crusty old cuss when it comes to tampering with something that’s already great) but at least it gave this show a new lease on life.
And then there I was Friday night, drinking in the whole show and swimming in a sea of happy memories- as well as a few unhappy ones as well. I really was sort of a Charlie Brown kid growing up- maybe not quite that pathetic or hopeless but certainly towards that end of the popularity scale. . . and to this very day, little setbacks or slights will make me feel like Charlie Brown all over again. But the show is actually a nice reminder that Charlie Brown is not a figure of failure as much he is a figure of optimism and determination – someone who has not given up on life, despite the hard knocks which it delivers. And of course just beneath the surface is the vitally important message that each of us needs to embrace our uniqueness- even if that means we’re the only little kid in our immediate vicinity who likes Beethoven or carries around a blanket or loses every game he plays. “Yes!” sings Lucy, “it’s most certainly true! For whatever it’s worth Charlie Brown, you’re you!”
pictured above: a climactic moment in the song “The baseball game” with my student Landon as Charlie Brown. He really did a marvelous job with this song. By the way, I was pleasantly surprised to find Polly, Mark and Lorelai there the same night- and it was fun sitting behind them and wondering what was going through little Lorelai’s mind or what this show will possibly mean to her over the years to come.