The Big Project

Some blogs ago – end of April – I made mention of a “big project” I’d been on for several months which was now drawing to a close. The close has long been drawn. It is now time to give you the TRUE FACTS, based on the sworn testimony of the miserable souls who survived the terrifying ordeal.

The story is already partly known to faithful readers. Over a year ago, in the spring, I was approached by a longtime NYGASP fan, a very well-off lawyer, who was interested in commissioning me to come up with “some kind of Gilbert and Sullivan birthday surprise” for his wife’s 70th. We agreed that it should be an original play, about an hour, with popular G&S songs and hopefully not too many rewritten lyrics. He wanted a good-sized cast - featuring me - costumes, sets, and the NYGASP orchestra. About 200 guests would be invited, and the whole thing would be a secret! Never having written or even thought about anything remotely like this I first had to consider whether I could do a respectable job. I finally decided that if I couldn’t do it nobody could, and I said yes. I gave him a figure (on the low side, as I felt suited my inexperience – my wife has gotten better money for cranking out 2-page magazine articles) and suggested there should be a bonus if the thing turned out well. An absurd agreement to make with a lawyer.

I collected a load of basic biographical information about the wife and had many dinners at the Harvard Club with the husband and one of the sons – also a lawyer – to get as good a feel as possible for the wife’s personality. Enough data accumulated so I felt I ought to try putting it together, and got to work on a scenario that was kind of a Wizard of Oz/It’s a Wonderful Life/Christmas Carol – the wife being led around by various G&S characters who show her parts of her life. I was not very enthusiastic about what I was producing and was not very upset when all my notes, including many sketches for revised lyrics, were STOLEN WITH MY BACKPACK while I was visiting London. Click on my archives from summer 2006 for that story, if you feel like crying.

Back in Brooklyn the show’s ultimate concept came to me while under the influence of beer at the bar of Pete's Waterfront Ale House , an establishment about which I can never say enough good, and which is continually ignored by the nitwit compilers of “Brooklyn’s Best” for the lame-o New York Post. The show would be about what it was – the attempts of the husband to present a big, elaborate surprise for his wife’s birthday. BUT! What is the surprise to be and how does one surprise a person as freakishly perceptive as she is? It would take place in a G&S-y fairytale kingdom where people sing a lot. The king (husband) would hire an untrustworthy amateur writer to concoct a play, a wandering band of G&S performers would handily turn up to perform it, countless revisions would be insisted on by the queen’s entourage (they’re in on the plan), the play is a disaster but it all ends happily with some unexpected sentiment. Yay! My outline was enthusiastically approved and toasts were drunk.

The lawyer son apparently liked the outline so much that he decided he was actually the person to write the show, including new lyrics, which I would revise and make fit the music. I encouraged him to write as much as he wanted, but of course what actually went in would be up to me. The other son, not a lawyer, also got into the act. They campaigned to remove as many characters as possible (a large cast was one of the specifications made by the dad – I convinced him to be content with 10 loud singers), one of them had just seen As You Like It and wanted men and/or women to at some point masquerade as the opposite sex, pages of bland, utterly laughless dialogue were sent to me and tantrums were had when they didn’t appear in the next revision, lyrics were re-written that were only vaguely related to the music they had to fit and were missing lines or occasionally whole stanzas here and there.

I was glad to consider the sons’ input and even used some of their lines and lyric ideas. BUT, this thing was meant to be performed for a sizeable audience who had to understand what was going on and would hopefully even laugh sometimes. So feelings got hurt. Unavoidable when there is control-freakishness involved from people who don’t really have a knack for what they’re attempting. So there. I am sorry.

The lawyer son attempted a revision of the Major-General song with lawyer lyrics, intended for the dad/king character, who’s not a lawyer in this story but what are you going to do. The Major-General song consists of 4-line stanzas, 16 syllables per line, with a simple strong beat, weak beat pattern. SIXTEEN SYLLABLES. The following is what I was given, and just couldn’t adequately explain was unuseable:
I am the very model of a modern Bergen barrister
I’ll get a restraining order although he hasn’t harassed her
I know all the judges and their clerks to boot
I’ll call for an objection even though the whole thing’s moot.

And so on. I urge you to try to get beyond the first line while singing it to the “Major-General” tune. Dealing with the sons was a pain, and a major amount of extra work. And after I thought I’d handed in the final draft the dad asked if I could include the opening scene from The Gondoliers, and “I have a song to sing, O”!!! I had to put my foot down about Gondoliers – I might have been able to work it in if there had been more time (the lawyer and his wife actually had honeymooned in Venice) - but I was able to squeeze in “I have a song to sing” with completely overhauled personalized lyrics which everyone agreed would have to reduce the birthday girl to helpless sobbing and eternal gratitude to her thoughtful husband.

At last the show was in its FINAL final stages. We were lucky that all NYGASP’s tip top performers were available and willing to do it, and I was able to negotiate good, motivational money for them. I played the dad, Erika Person played my wife (how could the actual birthday girl possibly object to that?) Richard Holmes played “Quincy,” the Steve Quint author character, Laurelyn Watson and Angie Smith were in there as the disguised “son” characters, none of the humor was nasty, and my wife was impressed at how clean and PG it was. I orchestrated and arranged some of the music, spent a long day at the NYGASP office marking the orchestra books, directed, rehearsed, and choreographed the production, kept everyone in a positive, excited state of mind, spent another long and dusty day at the NYGASP warehouse in Newark with Al Bergeret to choose costumes and props, and rented a car to drive us all out to the Montclair Art Museum where the whole extravaganza was to be presented.

My fee for writing the thing had been decided on at the beginning. Not so with the money I was to get for acting, directing, and managing all the other countless horrors. The extra hours, effort, blood, sweat, and tears of a year would be rewarded then.

The day came. NYGASP people got there early. Much rehearsal. Pre-performance drinks and hors d'oevre were given to the audience under a tent. The crowd filed into the theater and waited for birthday girl and husband to appear. Performers, especially me, were wild with nervousness backstage. We were all into this! We wanted her to love it! We knew it was good but we were terrified! Richard Holmes sang the opening number perfectly. Laurelyn and Angie joined him for a silly Abbott and Costello – type dialogue. People laughed. Kids in the front row were involved and attentive. I entered. More laughs. Birthday girl seemed to be having fun. All went well. The End. Bows. Cake rolled out, “Happy Birthday” sung. Children and grandchildren of birthday girl brought onstage for photos on the set. Finally there was a moment for me to approach Birthday Girl and interact.

ME: Well, happy birthday, Sylvia!
SYLVIA: Oh. Thanks. I have to get these boxes out to my car. [Exit]

It actually felt pretty good for my jaw to relax enough to hit the floor.

The dad expressed his opinion that the show went well and gave me checks to hand out to the performers. I opened mine in private. The amount was the same as that for the other performers, plus slightly more for directing. I let a couple of months pass before I called to remind him to reimburse me for the rental car. The exact amount was promptly dispatched. The promised video may also turn up some time.

Either the sons poisoned her mind against my rejection of their poor input (grown children have been known to do such selfish things to a parent), or, being a normal, private person, she was secretly appalled by the whole thing and hated it. Or something else. I did get a compliment from one of her three daughters, all of whom were blissfully uninvolved in the creative process.

It was interesting to be hired to write a thing, and I intend to write something else soon, something I care about enough so that gratitude doesn't matter.

Comments

[Doug]

You spent what, 8 months on the thing? I wish she had at least cared enough to hate it!

[mr steve]

Eight solid months, minimum. Long enough to learn some lessons.

[Brian]

Well, now that you've spilled the beans they'll never invite you back...

[Doug]

Yeah, I'm SURE they were dying to plan a follow up. Ha!

[Laurelyn Watson Chase]

I was in the damn thing and I liked it. Any show complete with all the paraphernalia and hugaboo of "Sylvia" is worth much more than you got. You can't control people and their horrid behavior, but you can come up with your own big, expensive, well-deserved fee. (Yes, I do think you know that NOW).

[Theresa]

Yikes!!! Unbelievable...

I've totally decided that anytime anyone asks me to do ANYTHING, I'm pricing it way out of their market. You want me to do some translations? That's a million dollars, bub. Mainly cuz when people ask me to do stuff, I decide I'm lazy and they better pay me the big money if they want me to even think about it.

So far this philosophy has kept the "consulting work" at bay! Woo hoo!

[Doug]

I agree with Theresa. It's better to just not do anything if possible.

Steve, please tell us about your foot injury when you have time.

I had the BEST SLOPPY JOE EVER last night. I could have eaten that until I Mr. Creosoted.

[Paul]

Wow...and to think at the time I was disappointed I wasn't involved with this performance. After reading your recounting of the experience, now I think I'm glad I wasn't there. And tell Doug I can hear him tooting away on his instrument all the way up in my apartment. Every time I walk by his apartment door it sounds like wild cats are being strangled in there...(joking, of course, it sounds good)

[Mr. Steve]

Nobody I know of (except, apparently, the celebrant and her Number One Son) actually had a bad time at the thing, and all the performers got paid. I'm just annoyed that my agreement lacked adequate definition for me to get compensated properly.

[Mr. Steve]

An update - no sign of the "promised video" yet, which I reminded him about this summer when I called for the rental car reimbursement.