Another Unexpected Operatic Foray

Post Orchestral Pianist era

So, for three years I had been ‘pianist’ for Spennymoor Junior Operatic Society. I was over the worst of having performance nerves when the show went live each Autumn. I still struggled with some of the difficult passages in dance numbers but managed to get through rehearsals, and once we reached show time the orchestra musicians were great and well understood my limitations. It got so that I could enjoy the experience.

Then came that night after my third show when our Producer/Director, Johnathon, announced he was leaving our group to become a professional producer. The ‘committee’ of volunteers (we weren’t a committee - we were a group of adults devoted to helping the kids to put on a musical show every year) were devastated. The kids were not aware of this earth-shattering news. Joan, our secretary, and a prime supporter behind the show’s volunteers, was close to tears as was our wardrobe mistress and our choreographer. The three ladies devoted themselves to backing the kids' efforts.

I have no recollection of who it was that suggested a possible solution, but all of a sudden, I was been looked upon as Johnathon’s successor. “But I have never directed even a school play,” I objected.

Alan added his twopenny worth opinion. “You’ll be a natural, Wallace. Look what you did as our pianist.”.

Johnathon sealed my fate by adding, “I’m around until Christmas, Wallace. I’ll give you all the help I can, two nights a week, to train you in the basics of plotting scenes and directing movements.”

That generous offer sealed my fate. I was officially confirmed by the ‘committee’ that same night. If only that was the whole story. Joan announced that the Society funds could not support the cost of putting on our next show. For the uninitiated, costs to put on an amateur show could rapidly approach and exceed £1000.00. There was performing rights dues, costs of hiring scripts, hiring scenery, costumes. sound systems, electricians and, of course, the travelling expenses of the orchestra plus hiring of the town hall. In a good year, ticker receipts might cover the majority of costs but it would never cover everything, Which is why the society toured local drinking establishments at Christmas performing a programme of carols, subsequently pleading for voluntary contributions.

Usually, there were sufficient funds left from the previous year to make a good start to building up the bank balance for the following year but this year the coffers were completely empty.

Our Musical Director, Alan, said he was certain he could persuade the musicians to perform pro bono for one year. Then Joan let loose her considerable skills on her many contacts. The town hall would not charge for use of its premises nor for the cost of utilities.

The most remarkable contribution came about because of Joan’s contact and persuasive powers on the Shaftoe family. You may not recognise the children’s rhyme but it is a well-known folk song in the North East of England. Robert Shafto was a British Member of Parliament for County Durham (elected in 1730)

Bobby Shaftoe’s gone to sea, Silver buckles at his knee

He’ll come back and marry me, Bonny Bobby Shaftoe

Up to that point in time I had no knowledge that there was an actual Bobbie Shafto, living on the outskirts of Spennymoor. And Joan knew Lady Shaftoe. She persuaded Lady Shaftoe to open up the ancestral home to the public for one afternoon, charging admission which she donated to the society. The event took place one fine warm spring day and Lady Shaftoe made herself available to talk to the many visitors. There was a fortune teller and an ice cream van and it was wonderful to delve into the ancient home of Bobby Shaftoe. Those contributions made it possible for the Society to continue for a good few more years.

Finances mainly in place we began auditions the following Spring for our next, my first, operatic show. Johnathon had been generous with his time and guided me through the mechanics of how to pull a show together. The shows that followed are a blur and I will get the order wrong but covered Sound Of Music, Oklahoma and Wizard of Oz.

I loved my time with the kids but boy it could be (was always) stressful. In the meanwhile, I had joined the company Air Products as a Sales Engineer and we were in the last week of show preparation with dress rehearsal due on Thursday. I must have bored the pants of my work colleagues reporting every progress in the production. My tension must have been apparent because on the Tuesday morning my Sales Manager called me to his office and asked how things were going. He probably knew what was coming as I unloaded on what appeared to be an interested individual. When I had finished my monologue, he put up his hand and said “Wallace, go home. You are no good to Air Products in your current state.” I thought I was getting the push.

“Come back to us next week when the show is over. Give the kids the best you can and then, when the show is over, come back to work raring to go.”

Wow! What can I say? What a generous recognition of the pressure I was facing at that time. I will remember that gesture three days extra paid holidays, always.

Of all the shows I did my favourite was a repeat of The Wizard of Oz. Johnathon had directed that show in my very first year with the Society.

But I had ambitions above my capabilities. However, by the time we got to the Saturday night I had ironed out the major problems. I was using theatrical flash powder to announce the appearance of the witch. That involved loading the flash box with just sufficient flash powder to ignite when an electrical circuit was completed. Current Health and Safety would never have let me loose with electricity and flash powder among children.

There was more to come. The score included a skeleton dance sequence and the wardrobe mistress clothed the dancers in black leotards with luminous strips sown on to represent skeleton bones. In my imagination, the skeletons would be dancing among the mist in the forest. I could create mist! One of my company’s products was solid cabon dioxide blocks, colloquially called card (cold) or dry ice. When pieces were immersed in warm water they created an eery mist. The problem was that the mist spread out in a circle around the bucket of warm water. Solution: use a hair drier as a blower to spread the mist over the stage. Problem! The sound system amplified the sound of the hair driers above that of the orchestra. Solution: switch off the mikes during the dance – no one was singing. Problem solved.

The kids found extra exilaration from the addition of the special effects but I never attempted it again. I needed to keep some hair on my head. The next show was kept much more down to Earth.

Since moving away from Durham, intially to the South of England for twenty years and subsequently to the North West, I have never again been involved with junior operatics. I doubt I have the stamina these days. But what an experience! My life was enriched because I said 'yes'. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.