Stephen Quint and the ZOMBIE MIKADO

It's THE BIG GAY ICE CREAM TRUCK!!!

THE BIG GAY ICE CREAM TRUCK, Douglas Quint and Bryan Petroff, proprietoresses, comes out at noon this Saturday, June 13! At BROOKLYN PRIDE, Brooklyn's comparatively sedate gay thing, located in Prospect Park at Bartel-Pritchard Circle, 15th Street and Prospect Park West. Doug (my tiny little brother) still, as of this writing, has not received his overdue food vendor's license from the incredibly lardass, waddling behemoth Department of Consumer Affairs. Doug's ice cream vendor guru will be there to actually pull the soft serve handle in case someone demands to see a certificate. Among the toppings to be offered: TRIX cereal ("Trix ARE for kids, but adults can have 'em too. It's queer, colorful, and youngster-friendly, like us!"); Cayenne pepper ("It makes the chocolate into something really surreal."); Fresh berries du jour; and maple syrup.

There will also be a GAY PARADE that night at 7:30! So much gaiety stuffed tightly into one day! Can you bear it? The truck might be in the parade, but come to the park in the afternoon, before 4. It's supposed to be the first decent weather we've had in a week.

Doug on the right.

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Nerd is the Word

I have taken part in the first of my Three Known Nerd Events of the Summer: I saw and loved Star Trek. For extra Nerd Karma bonus points I saw it the day before it opened officially, with a crowd of approving Believers. I always like to see a movie I know I want to see as soon as I can see it, see? Before the reviews come out. I like to read reviews but they always spoil too much. Suffice it to say that nothing about the movie failed to satisfy. Kirk fights, humps an alien (female), and hangs from three different cliffs. Spock says "Fascinating" and talks to himself. All the old "Star Trek" TV sound effects are heard again. There are thrills, laughs, and mind-numbing plot twists. WARNING: time travel and parallel universes are involved, so set your logic on "stun." I saw it a second time with the family. Maggie loves Kirk (Chris Pine)! She was surprised to learn that WILLIAM SHATNER played him on TV!

This weekend: my final G&S performances of the summer (and second Nerd Event): NYGASP's The Pirates of Penzance at The Filene Center, Wolf Trap Foundation for the Arts, Vienna, VA. Our FIFTEENTH consecutive appearance at this Tanglewood-type outdoor amphitheater. May 29 & 30 at 8. "Pirates" is my favorite of the NYGASP stagings - no topical gags (except "Department of Homeland Security"), only three quick encores, the chorus is encouraged to act and is therefore extremely funny, the choreography looks somewhat professional and fun, limited buttinski stuff from the pit. The infallible Michele McConnell is a great Mabel, Colm Fitzmaurice is a rugged-looking, completely charming Frederick, and David Macaluso as Samuel, the speaking pirate who isn't the Pirate King, usually hits his interpolated high G#. I am still enjoying playing the Major-General, which is still not yet an age-appropriate role for me. The principals wear body mics - a lovely thing. Only a real sourpuss wouldn't enjoy our Pirates of Penzance.

Event of the Nerd the Third: June 3 & 4 I will be attending two days of the annual International Horn Symposium in Macomb (near Chicago), IL. Every year, in a different international location, several hundred hornplayers from EVERYWHERE get together for a week of concerts, lectures, exhibits and geeky socializing! I have done full weeks of this thing in the distant past but will only be attending Wednesday and Thursday because two days are cheaper. People who don't know me, and/or have never clicked on "ABOUT ," in the upper left of this page, may not know that I spent several years of my professional life, such as it is, as a hornplayer in and around New York and on tour in various ensembles. This part of my life got phased out due to imposed physical limitations and my simultaneous success as a thespian. But I have found - I am surprised it took me this long - that I can still play extremely well on a lighter instrument. There are all types of configurations of French horns, using more or less tubing, though the standard full double F/Bb horn is OVERWHELMINGLY the most popular on this continent. I am switching to a single Bb horn.
  Single Bb.

 

                                                      Double F/Bb:

As you can see, the double horn has lots more metal, and certain advantages for which I think I can compensate. A couple of weeks ago I played my first horn solo in about TEN YEARS, at a NYGASP function. "Over the Rainbow," on Al Bergeret's old double horn. It went very well - like one nicked note, and I was not overcome with nerves, as used to be the norm. Professional-quality single horns are rare in America, but the Symposium is an international event, and manufacturers will have them on exhibit and ready to be sampled and possibly bought.

The NYGASP thing for which I played was the annual Asimov Awardee concert, this year presented by winner Michael Galante. Next Spring I have to give you warning about this concert. NYGASP singers who aren't often heard in solo roles with the company - like CHRIS-IAN SANCHEZ - get to present themselves, and "stalwarts" like me get to do something different. The concert is free and a regular riot!

Also, my brother Doug will, at a time yet to be announced, come out with THE BIG GAY ICE CREAM TRUCK! Click on it! And stand by circa this site!

PART 3: The London Experience

My train to London was out of Buxton the morning after the performance. More rolling hills, more sheep, bla-a-ah, bla-a-ah, bla-a-ah. Very lovely.

I got into London, paid 20 pence to use a toilet. Arrangements had been made for me to stay with a London friend of a couple of our cast members. He was in Dublin for the week, but his wife was around, and he had sent me her phone numbers. I got no answer, left messages, then left the train station and went out to have a look around. No luggage, you'll recall, just my backpack.

This was my first time alone in a European city, and that was pretty cool. I felt that people were looking at me with some kind of interest and respect, instead of the usual revulsion I get in the States. There is nothing to which I can attribute this.

I had some time to kill before I tried the phone numbers again. I didn't go into any shops as there was nothing I was remotely interested in acquiring. England is God damn expensive. A dollar is worth about 55 cents. You can get a decent no-frills meal for 7 pounds but then you calculate what you're really spending.

Those London pubs sure fill up at the end of a day. It seems like entire offices empty out and go directly to fun at the pub. Dozens of people were spilling out of every alcoholic establishment, drinking their pints on the sidewalk. I managed to find a seat in one of them, and ordered some kind of British blood, lard, and horror pie. It was exquisite.

I took my time over dinner then found a phone again. Still no Karen; I left more messages.

I decided that my host people may have e-mailed me that nobody would be around till late. I hadn't looked at a computer since I'd left Brooklyn. So for the first time in my life I went into an internet cafe. There was a four-terminal cubicle close to the door. I took a seat next to the wall, in front of an un-staffed service desk, and put my backpack between the wall and my chair. There were two women also working at the cubicle.

The screen was very difficult to see, at a bad angle, and my bifocals are kind of out-dated. So I took them off and had to kind of lean in and squint at the screen.

There was a fellow milling around behind me, near the service desk. I paid him no heed. That's the only thing I didn't pay him, though.

One of my e-mails (there was nothing from my hosts) had a date I wanted to transcribe to my book. I reached for my backpack but couldn't find it, and it had nothing to do with the fact that I still wasn't wearing glasses. The guy standing by the desk had squeezed in behind me while I was focused on the screen and silently nipped my bag! The woman sitting next to me hadn't noticed anything, either. I popped out onto the street; of course there was no sign of him.

This internet cafe didn't occupy much space on the ground floor, but upstairs was kind of huge, and was also a Subway sandwich joint. There was a security guard. I told him what had just happened and he told me he wasn't really a security guard -- he had been fired a couple of weeks ago. And he didn't work at this place anyway. I was already feeling so stunned that his insane story didn't really strike me as such at the moment. He also didn't know the phone number for the local police station or how to help me find it.

This was the easyinternetcafe, 14 Tottenham Court Road. Boycott them if you are able. Also Virgin Atlantic.

I called the emergency number for the cops, and they forwarded me to the proper desk. They took my basic info and told me I had to report the incident at the precinct house for the area (Putney) in which I was staying. That particular station was for some reason only open 11 to 3, so there was nothing more I could do at the moment other than find somewhere to be. My next call was to my host lady, who was home and had apparently not heard any of my messages.

"Hello, Karen?"

"Yes?"

"Hi, Karen, it's Steve Quint."

"Steve - ?"

"Quint. I'm the guy who's staying with you the next couple of days."

"You're staying -- here?"

"Uh, yes... Ian may have mentioned -- ?"

"He did say someone was staying here but he never said when, he's a little vague that way."

This was scary. But it got sorted out. I found their house without difficulty. Karen and her son Richard listened horrified to a more detailed telling of my adventure and were both tremendously accommodating and helpful getting together all the phone numbers I needed. I stayed on the phone until there just wasn't anything more I could accomplish.

I slept badly, but the next morning I had stopped feeling weird and was no longer taking the theft personally.

Fortunately my wallet had been in my pocket. In addition to a brand new backpack the guy had gotten my passport and return ticket; ipod --engraved with my name -- a beloved gift from Val; two pairs of headphones -- one kind of expensive; souvenir programs and stuff from Buxton; box of prescription meds for the rest of the stay -- stuff I have to take daily; two days' worth of dirty laundry; keys; prescription shades, useless to anyone but me; datebook full of phone numbers and stuff; cellphone; $80 US; AND --

A PLAY I'VE BEEN COMMISSIONED TO WRITE. And all the notes I'd been using to write it from. All in longhand, no copy on a computer. The guy I'm writing it for expected me to read it to him beginning of September. Sorry!

I went to the police station and made out a complete report to the very nice cops. They contacted the US Embassy and got me the next available appointment -- FRIDAY MORNING.  MY FLIGHT WAS FRIDAY AFTERNOON. I decided I would assemble all the stuff I needed, go to the embassy immediately, and see what turned up. I got new passport photos taken. The girl in the photo shop was kind of interesting. She was 25 or so -- you know, I can't tell how old young people are anymore. They're all just plain young. This girl had short black hair, thick blue eyeshadow, and really unpleasant attitude. I'm not chatty -- I don't generally say enough for people I don't know to get annoyed with. She just didn't like me, or anyone else, maybe, how do I know? Anyway, she took the photos even though she resented it and told me they'd be ready in 5 minutes. I asked if she'd mind if I went a few stores down to a travel agent while the picture process happened. She shrugged. I was hoping the travel agent could get in touch with Virgin Atlantic for me, but they gave me the contact info I needed to do it myself. Went back to the photo shop. As soon as I came through the door I was this girl's best friend! She loved me! Talkative, joking, couldn't do enough for me! I didn't ask if she was twins.

I called Virgin Atlantic and was instructed to go to their website and print out an itinerary which would prove to the embassy that I was traveling on Friday. So I had to go to another internet cafe. Everything I owned was now in my pockets, so this experience was considerably more positive.

I found the embassy. There was a long line, or queue, in British, waiting to get in. I went to the guard at the front and told him "I have a stolen passport emergency." He waved me right through! I spoke to a passport person and gave him the photos and the various proofs of the stuff they needed proved. Less than two hours later, and 97 American dollars, a brand new US Stephen Quint passport was mine! The embassy couldn't really do anything to help me with my missing medications, as I had hoped, so what could I do other than do without them for my remaining two days. My only other option: go to a doctor, pay 60 pounds to get prescribed the stuff I know I need. Guess what -- I didn't. Guess what else -- I survived.

Well, I was as light as a feather -- and not just from the lack of weight strapped to my shoulders. It was very nice to have the passport resolved. It was late afternoon. I went to Westminster Cathedral. I've never been in a cathedral I didn't like. And it was free. Then I walked to Buckingham Palace. By this time it just happened to be 7:00, at which time the guards strut around in their absurd fashion. The crowd went wild! Kids were yelling "They're moving! They're moving!!!" I had a jolly good Italian dinner, went back out to Putney -- about a 20 minute trip. Had a few richly deserved quaffs at one of the positively ripping local pubs. Went to bed.

I haven't told you yet about the part of The London Experience where I actually had fun. And there are more surprises. But I have to get up tomorrow to go to Connecticut to do three Labor Day Weekend Mikados. Light Opera Company of Salisbury brings in some professional ringers every year to join the production they've put together. Keith Jurosko and Louis Dall'Ava will be Mikado and Pooh-Bah. So I'll continue this tale... uh... later.

PART 2: ALL G&S ALL THE TIME!!!

I made it clear, I hope, in the previous posting, that Virgin Atlantic basically -- or not so basically, EXACTLY -- told all their customers at Heathrow that we were all on our own, as far as our Thursday, August 10 travel plans were concerned. We were directed from desk to desk and finally told to get out -- we couldn't have our luggage. Of course I was in a stupor all this time, from an uncomfortable, frustrating night and a sleeping pill that didn't quite knock me out. We made our way up to Manchester and thence to Buxton. Some lovely hilly country up there. Sheep safely grazing, that type of thing.

"Buxton has been a popular holiday resort for centuries. Blessed with stunning scenery, magnificent architecture, a wealth of shops, a thriving arts scene and its world-famous spa water, Buxton has plenty to offer any visitor." How can I say it any better than someone who was hired to write that stuff? The Opera House is in beautiful condition and gets used continually.

It is a fabulously beautiful town and the inhabitants are as merry as Munchkins. Working at the Opera House  and its rehearsal spaces every day was like working in a park. You'd look out any window and see rolling green hills, people feeding ducks and swans, a band in the bandstand, bucolic stuff. After a couple of days I stopped expecting my luggage to turn up and bought a shirt and some underpants to supplement what I'd been wearing since the untidy business at Heathrow, and our sympathetic stage manager presented me with a new pair of socks.

This "International Gilbert and Sullivan Festival" is like nothing else I'm aware of. You can't compare it to a Star Trek convention because those things only last a long weekend. You can't compare it to Bayreuth because that's all about the performances. The G&S Fest is two solid weeks of fourteen hour days of concerts and lectures with full-out productions of the shows every night. And after the performances you get cabarets. Cabarets with all manner of drinks. Plus there's an excellent old pub right across the street from the Opera.

It's kind of difficult and annoying to give a very vivid impression of this festival. It's mostly about amateur performers, G&S companies from all over the UK and the States, who pay their own way to come to this thing and put on their show. In addition to the performers is a large number of fanatics, and there's nothing a fanatic loves better than being around other fanatics. People travel the world to be able to be with a group who shares their obsessions. I must say it was quite nice being among such friendly people who all had a great passion in common. Hardly any of them were horrifying, just kind of socially clueless. And that doesn't bother me much.

John Reed, with whom I've worked several times with NYGASP, turned up and came to a rehearsal to listen to me sing the Judge's Song, which was a trifle nerve-wracking. Reed was the last great Gilbert and Sullivan star. He performed the principal comedian roles -- the roles I do -- with the D'Oyly Carte Opera Company for 20 years, and was on all the original stereo recordings of the shows. His voice was perfect for these roles. I maybe only say that because it's the voice I grew up with. He's an incredibly sweet man, which, of course, comes across in his work. He's 90!

Here's Reed as Ko-Ko.

And here are John, on the right, and his mate Nikki Kerri visiting our rehearsal, obviously having the time of their lives listening to me sing the Judge's Song.

 

I mentioned in a posting months ago, before I went to Alaska, exactly what I was in England to perform. It was a NYC amateur company, "The Actors' Opera," which also seems to want to be called "Light Opera of New York," for the sake of a catchy acronym. They wanted to do The Zoo, composed by Arthur Sullivan but written by BC Stephenson, at about the same period in which Sullivan and Gilbert wrote Trial by Jury. The Zoo is a rarity, considered lost for 90 years. It's a miserable one-act through-composed piece about nothing in particular, which happens for no particular reason to take place at a zoo. The best thing about it is the music, which stinks. The Zoo was act one. Act 2 was Cox and Box, also composed by Sullivan but written by someone else. C&B is also a one-acter, this one with dialogue. About two tenants at a boarding house -- Cox (baritone) and Box (tenor) -- who have been sharing the same room without realizing it, due to the machinations of their dishonest landlord. Only three characters. Other than the basic situation there isn't very much amusing about it, and it's almost always performed -- on those rare occasions when it is performed -- with cuts and deletions, and is over with in about 40 fairly fast-paced minutes. This performance was uncut, which added about 15 minutes to the running time and 6 hours to the pain. Act 3 was a Gilbert and Sullivan masterpiece, Trial by Jury. I was there (expenses paid) to play the Judge. It was very exciting to perform G&S in England, for such a group of aficionados. Unfortunately, the aforementioned luggage never turned up, so my lovely judge's costume, robe, wig, and even the gavel were all floating around somewhere in Virgin Atlantic Land. A costume and a ratty old wig were dredged up from the festival's storeroom the day of the performance. Also I was without my contact lenses (with makeup in luggage) and my vision is just too bad to do anything other than wear my glasses, kind of pushed down over my nose.

In addition to an extremely long evening of one-act operas it was decided that there would be performing during the intermissions. So members of the cast -- mostly very excellent chorus members, with a few principals -- came out and did old music hall numbers. This, naturally, stopped the audience from getting up, going to the bathroom or whatever, and made for 2 REALLY long intermissions. I was supposed to perform a very lame 'comic' tongue-twister song, "Sister Susie's Sewing Shirts for Soldiers," but canceled out that morning. It was just too awful to get completely into my head. Perhaps some of you performers out there can back me up on how difficult it is to learn crap. Well-written stuff is easy to memorize.

Without going into any detail, which would not only confuse you needlessly but possibly cause some brain damage, all 3 of our actual shows were "held together" with a dreaded DIRECTOR'S CONCEPT. It was Nathan's idea (Nathan Hull, who played Cox and the foreman of the jury) that Sullivan had wanted these three pieces to be performed together. And Nathan contrived relationships between the characters who were actually the same characters from show to show. Why the Judge should be Tom Brown's major-domo in The Zoo and Tom Brown should be the Counsel for the Plaintiff in Trial by Jury, and why the Trial usher should be the landlord from Cox and Box -- not just the same singer but the same character, the landlord -- who wants to go there? No one wants to think about it enough for it to make sense! It made me feel schizophrenic. I don't think it was the Ambien.

Anyway, the audience loved it all and we had prolonged applause and cheering.

Immediately after the show many of the cast members performed at the cabaret! More old songs. Some with elaborate dancing. What a long day.

The most interesting day of my 9 in England was the next day, my journey to London. Check again. Mind the gap.