Every so often (although not nearly as often as I would like) I get a good idea, and I’m not sure I’ve ever had a better idea than the one I hatched as part of our just-completed J-Term Opera Workshop production, titled “Then Give Three Cheers: A Gilbert and Sullivan Gala.” The decision had been made some time ago that this particular J-Term Opera production would be a concert of excerpts from various Gilbert & Sullivan shows. We had done this some years ago and it was a rousing success- and this time around I was excited at the prospect of drawing in some Music Theater students to participate . . . which we did! We ended up with an absolutely terrific group of singers- nicely balanced between the worlds of classical and MT and all fully on board for what turned out to be one of our happiest opera workshop undertakings ever!
It was stage director Allison Hull who put together a very promising preliminary lineup of potential pieces that the singers would perform (a huge job, in and of itself) but I knew that we needed to do more than a concert. I was anxious for us to create some sort of framework within which all of those separate pieces would make some kind of theatrical sense.
It was while I was pondering this that I received an email from Wanda Brister Rachwal, a voice teacher at Florida State University who is also a marvelous singer. I was in the midst of writing a Journal of Singing review of her most recent CD- a disk devoted to the cabaret songs of Madeleine Dring – and I had asked her to provide me with some additional background material. One of the things she included in her reply was an excerpt from a book she is working on that talks (among other things) about state censorship in Britain. That’s how I learned about the Theaters Act of 1843 that allowed [the office of the Lord Chamberlain] to prohibit plays “in order to preserve good manners, decorum, or the public peace.” As soon as I read those words, I immediately thought of W.S. Gilbert’s saucy and often insolent attitude towards many of the customs and attitudes of his day … and imagined how an especially curmudgeonly Lord Chamberlain would have all kinds of reasons to hate the shows of Gilbert & Sullivan- and perhaps even move to have them banned.
And that’s what launched the heart and soul of my idea for our production: Our students would be a small troupe of performers who specialize in Gilbert and Sullivan. One day, a disturbing communique arrives from the office of the Lord Chamberlain. It is an edict saying that because the shows of Gilbert & Sullivan are “a dangerous and disruptive force,” all future performances of their shows are banned until further notice. The program of highlights that the students would perform would be done to try and convince the unseen Lord Chamberlain (presumably in the audience) that the shows of Gilbert and Sullivan are far too marvelous to be withdrawn from the stage. And needless to say, the effort would prove successful … and by evening’s end, the Lord Chamberlain would reverse his ruling, realizing how treasurable these works actually are. I liked the idea a lot; it would elevate our production from a concert into a more thoroughly theatrical experience.
In my initial idea, I thought that the Lord Chamberlain would never be seen … but the more I thought about it, the more I knew that at the end of the evening, somebody needed to stand up and deliver the good news that the edict was reversed. And that’s when I got my second idea- to ask the president of Carthage, Dr. John Swallow, if he would be willing to do this small cameo appearance at one or both of our performances. I knew first-hand what a capable singer he was (he and I sang together in a quartet last year with Kyle Sackett and Jeremy Mossman) and I suspected that if his crazy schedule could accommodate it, he would be willing – and perhaps even eager to do this. With some trepidation, I wrote him an email in which I spelled out my idea as clearly as I could – and asked him whether or not this was something he could do – and would do. Two days later he responded with interest and enthusiasm.
I met with President Swallow on Tuesday afternoon, February 5th, the last day of break between J-Term and second semester. By this point, I had already sent him the music that I had composed for him to sing (it was written to sound something like a typical Gilbert & Sullivan recitative) plus a recording I made of myself singing it … but I had no idea how much time he had been able to spend getting acquainted with it. Would I need to teach it to him? And if it didn’t fit him well, would I need to revise it?
I’m delighted to report that President Swallow walked into that meeting already able to sing the music perfectly! Granted, we’re not talking about Beethoven’s 9th Symphony here; this was just four brief lines of recitative that would take approximately thirty seconds to sing. Still, I was really honored that he took the time in his incredibly busy schedule to rehearse it – and he sounded great and seemed very comfortable as we walked through what would occur in the performance.
The following Friday at 6:45, the President joined the cast an actual one run through of the moment. I loved the spontaneous wave of applause from the students when they saw the president walk into the recital hall – and he could not have been more gracious. For all that he has accomplished – which is amazing – President Swallow remains a warm and humble person who acted as though we were honoring him with this cameo rather than the other way around.
Yesterday at church, a member of my choir who was at Saturday night’s performance told me that when they arrived, President Swallow was standing at the recital hall entrance, greeting each and every person and welcoming them. It was graciousness personified and I was so touched – and also not the least bit surprised – to hear that President Swallow had done this.
As for the cameo itself, it went wonderfully! As the last piece of the program finished up (“I am the Captain of the Pinafore”) came to an end, President Swallow/Lord High Chamberlain rose from his seat in the front row, walked up on the stage and sang:
MY FRIENDS – AFTER ALL I HAVE SEEN AND HEARD
YOU MUST PERMIT ME ONE BRIEF WORD.
ALTHOUGH YOUR TONE WAS NEEDLESSLY ABRASIVE,
THE CASE YOU HAVE MADE IS INTRIGUING AND PERSUASIVE.
MY ROYAL DECREE I NOW RESCIND.
YOU ARE FREE TO PERFORM GILBERT AND SULLIVAN.
And having heard that wonderful news, the students broke into one of the most joyous choruses ever written: O JOY, O RAPTURE UNFORESEEN – THE CLOUDED SKY IS NOW SERENE . . .
I was lucky to be up on stage with the students for this final moment, and it was wonderful to be right in the midst of all that joy. I would like to think that the exuberance of that moment had a lot to do with the tremendous fun that we had experienced together throughout the term. It also sprang from joy of having such large and enthusiastic audiences at both of our performances. But there is no question that the crowning glory of it all was how the president of Carthage honored us by being a part of our gala. In a time when opera seems to be more and more in retreat, it meant the world to all of us to know that we mattered enough to President Swallow that he welcomed the chance to join us. And during the performance itself, it meant the world to look out and see the beaming faces of both President Swallow and his wife Cameron Swallow as they took in every moment of what unfolded on that stage. For them, this was about the students …. and about the great Gilbert & Sullivan. And that sort of selflessness is what true Presidential Greatness is all about!