After the Ball is Over

Photo by Gerry Love

When somebody says goodbye to me
I’m sad as I can be.
Not so with this loving Romeo
He seemed to take a lot of pleasure saying bye-bye to his treasure.
- Gus Kahn, “Toot, Toot, Tootsie! (Goo’ Bye)”

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I wouldn’t say that it was a lot of pleasure saying good-bye to my one-man show Just a Song at Twilight, which just concluded an immensely satisfying two-week run at the Missouri History Museum on October 16, 2011 under the aegis of the West End Players Guild. The show was actually a great joy to perform and, judging from audience response, to watch. So while I’m glad to have my evenings back again, it’s hard not to feel a bit of a let down knowing that I won’t be putting on that top hat, white tie, and tails any time again in the foreseeable future.

But then, if you read the excellent blog post by West End’s indispensible president Renee Sevier-Monsey on the ephemeral nature of theatre, you won’t be surprised to learn that. No matter how strong the sense of accomplishment that goes along with a good show, all of us followers of Thespis know that, sooner or later, the ball will be over and it will be time to move on.

Before the dancers leave and the stars are gone, though, I’d like to offer a little background and some tips of the top hat to many of the folks who made Just a Song at Twilight possible. Because if there’s one thing that’s true about a one-man show, it’s this: it takes way more than one person to make it work.

First, thanks to my graphics designer Marjorie Williamson. She’s responsible not only for that classy poster (which also graced the cover of our program) but also for assembling the “lantern slides” (actually a PowerPoint deck) that I used within the body of the show to illustrate the songs and stories. We both spent hours combing the Internet for images, but the final product wouldn’t have looked as good as it did without her expertise.

Thanks to Renee Sevier-Monsey for wearing multiple bonnets as my house manager, lighting designer, and set designer. The lights nicely delineated the playing area without spilling on to the projections and the set was simple but inspired. There wasn’t much to it – just an art deco floor lamp (a “practical”, which means it could be turned on and off like a real lamp) in front of which was a nightclub table and two chairs set with two glasses of wine, a period-looking shawl, and a cigarette case. The idea was that the couple had just stepped out to the dance floor and might come back at any moment. It set the tone perfectly.

Thanks to my director Tim Schall for the cool tweaks he made to the show in tech week. Tim worked closely with me to develop the original cabaret version of Just a Song at Twilight. This time around he was only able to be on hand for one rehearsal, but his input at that rehearsal had a great impact on the final look of the show. The little “framing sequence” that began and ended the show to the tune of “Love’s Old Sweet Song” was his idea (and it was Renee’s set that inspired it).

Thanks to actor, singer, dancer and choreographer and long time friend Cindy Duggan for my dance moves. I’m not a dancer (unless you count all those years of aerobics and Zumba at the “Y”), but Cindy came up with some stuff that made me look good.

Thanks to my old friend Lynn Rathbone – a gifted actress and smart director – for her input and also to my fellow West End Board member Sean Ruprecht-Belt for his notes at our dress rehearsal.

Thanks to Neal Richardson of the Webster Conservatory for the great arrangements and charts. Neal (who is also a fan of the songs of the Vaudeville era) was deeply involved in the creation of the original version of the show and played piano for both the March and July 2010, performances at the Kranzberg Center. This time around his commitments to the Conservatory made that impossible (he’s the music director for their November production of Carousel), but his spirit was still very much in evidence.

And last but by no means least, thanks to my music director and pianist Carol Schmidt. When Tim learned that Neal wasn’t available, his first suggestion was to ask Carol to step in. It was a suggestion with which I heartily concurred. I had worked with Carol on the now-defunct Moonglow and Cabaret at the Café series, so I already knew she was not only a technically proficient music director but a lively and inventive performer as well. Her imagination kept the show fresh right up to the final performance. We always found something new and interesting to do with the show during our nightly sound checks.

I could go on at great length about the process of turning a small-scale cabaret act into something more like a staged Ken Burn documentary and my actually do so in a future post, but for now I’ll just say that the warmth and enthusiasm with which you, our audience, received our show each night made all of that effort worthwhile. Feel free to stay in touch with me here and on the West End Players Guild blog. Share your thoughts on the music and the performers of the Vaudeville era.

The ball may be over and dawn may be breaking, but the dance goes on.