L. Frank Baum, the author of the Wizard of Oz, spent a short time here in town as a student at the Peekskill Military Academy. (Being a loosey -goosey creative sort, he hated it.)
At this point in the city’s history, the roads were paved with bricks. Yellow Ones. Peekskill was a somewhat serious port in those days, and Belgian ships would bring over yellow bricks as ballast, before they headed home with their iron products manufactured here in Peekskill. (I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this.)
When the pavement wears through and large potholes happen, we frequently get down to the yellow brick road.
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Well, you can imagine. Many Peekskill folks have claimed Baum’s inspiration for the yellow brick road as local. There’s even a Wizard of Oz themed event every year at our local restored movie palace, The Paramount.
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A section of preserved road, on private land.
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I’ve thought a few times about producing a musical at the Paramount. However, the things I like to do are more suited to a black-box or a parlor theatre. The Paramount is a football field.
All is going along nicely here.
I’m visiting Florida in a few weeks. Principally to spend time with my Mom, but I’ll also get to see my dear friend K! It’s so nice to be in close touch with a few folks from high school.
The teeny-tiny 1920s musical about a person whose name has a Z in it is finished and ready for a first read. However, one needs performers for such things. We are going to wait until after the school year starts to announce auditions. Seems prudent.
To start, I’m fine. I believe I mentioned earlier that I had an infection at a surgical site which went away and then immediately came back worse. Very bad. Approaching sepsis. (During this, the bathroom renovation went belly up and two vacations were canceled.) However, it is gone now, I’m getting my strength back, and I feel better than I have in a very long time. I mowed our postage stamp size front yard yesterday. =)
I think I might’ve mentioned I was working on an adaptation of 1728’s The Beggar’s Opera. Didn’t work out. I was enjoying the work, but the details, places, people, customs and occupations of 1728 London are all things that would have to be very clearly explained to a modern audience. That would result in a well-over-two-hour musical, it could possibly prove tedious, and that’s not what I’m after. I’m after small, meaningful, and fun.
So I’ve started something else. At this point, I’ll say that it is a two person musical (plus the non-speaking pianist character) based on the local stay of a very famous, very fun, very complicated person from the 1920s/1930s. The first 15 minutes is currently being read by a few people. Interestingly, it’s revealed itself to me as about 75% sung and 25% spoken. I’m having a good time.
The garden is at peak!
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And of course, I’ve already got a good amount of herbs in hanging and drying. A few stalks of sage, basil, oregano, and thyme so far.
I’m working on an adaptation of ahistoric theatre piece. I’m turning it into an easy-to-produce, very small musical. For me and old friends (ideally).
I’d like it to be the last thing I have a hand in fully co-directing/musical directing.
It’s from the early 1700s. I’m enjoying moulding it into a piece that’s easily put on a stage, while providing a fun theater history lesson and an evening that’s enjoyable for modern audiences.
If I wanted to blow it out of proportion, I’d say that I’m “shopping it around.” LOL But really, I’m just talking to a college friend in another state who has a teen/college summer program. (Not for like, now. For next summer.) We could get it up on its feet in two weeks, easy.
We’ll see. Most days I’m super into it. Other days, I’m like, “Why are you wasting your time on this?”
But. It’s fun, and my home workspace is cozy.
Script adapting, crafting new lyrics, or writing orchestrations; I work in the same spot … our gigantic king+ bed with tons of pillows, cozy linen, and a big fluffy dog.
I use a souped-up 12″ iPad Pro and a music notation/sequencing program hooked up to thousands of samples by the London Symphony Orchestra. I just got stereo/surround speakers, so I can hear the playback with instruments in their proper spots. =)
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That said, the seating usually gets fiddled with in small musical theatre because of pit and wing limitations, and you end up elbow-to-elbow with a loud horn or the pointy end of a violin bow in your face in some bizarre spot backstage.
Here’s the clever techie part — the piano (or more) can be silenced and played live. With the digital instruments; we end up with just a few players sounding like 14 or 16 musicians. (Touring companies of Broadway shows almost always use this system.) A very modest production is able to have a big, functional orchestra with very little prep, expense, and stress. Whatever parts are being used live, I simply print out.
If I choose, the program is even fully conductible!! (I’m not kidding, it can follow me.)
I thought a screen vid of (part of) the teeny-tiny overture would be fun. I love writing orchestrations. You’ll hear plenty my quirks and my personality in there, and you can follow along and see what I wrote for each instrument.
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(If you’re a musician I know with a name that begins with K, I’ll bet you spot the two measure nod to my beloved Bernstein.)
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We’ll see. I’ve way yet to finish. I get tired. I’m fully functional and all, but I don’t know how many more plays I have left in me. So I do hope it goes somewhere.
It was a big walking day yesterday, and I was out from around 10 to 4. That’s a very big day for me, and an even bigger day for my nervy feet.
Ergo, I turned my alarm off, decided I could sleep as late as I liked, and decided the single event of the day would be eating at The Anchor, which is directly downstairs.
Maybe I’ll sit by the river a bit.
The Tate Modern (a notable contemporary art museum) is less than a five minute walk; but unsurprisingly, I couldn’t be less interested. It’s interesting that it’s built in a former power plant, but for me, it ends there.
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(That chunk in the front is the new part.)
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I stayed in bed until 11 AM, and then ran myself a hot bath in the big bathtub. Wonderful!
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The Anchor is an Elizabethan Era tavern and inn. Lotso famous people did lotso famous things there. It’s the sole survivor of the riverside inns that existed in Shakespeare’s day, when this area was the heart of theatreland. It was frequented by Shakespeare, Hemings, Burbage, surely almost all the actors from the Globe, the Swan and the Rose, and probably my 14th great grandfather.
All three theaters were literally within shouting distance of the tavern. It’s where Samuel Pepys (one of the greatest diarists of his own or any other era) observed the Great Fire of London in 1666. He took a quick boat ride across the river to “a little alehouse on bankside … and there watched the fire grow.”
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Artist Lieve Verschier, via The Museum of Budapest
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After the area faded from popularity as the theatrical center, it became very handy for smugglers and pirates. During the 19th century, a large beam fell and was replaced, revealing hidden rooms, fairly obviously created as hiding places for stolen goods.
I’m now back after an early dinner at The Anchor and a run by the café to grab an afternoon latte. Dinner was fine.
Don’t get me wrong, it was beautifully prepared and very nicely done, but I really wanted shepherds or cottage pie, and they didn’t have that. Which struck me as a bit weird for a major tourist pub. I had a steak and ale pie with mash. It was excellently prepared, but I wasn’t crazy about it. I ate half of it, and brought the rest back to the room. Might eat it, might not. I stole a fork on purpose. I put it in my takeout container. I’ll give it back tomorrow. That’s what they get for not having shepherds pie.
My leg and feet feel pretty good for this time of day. Awesome, since tomorrow will be a big walking day — I’ve already got entry tickets to Westminster Abbey and the additional exhibition with the centuries-old funeral effigies of the monarchs.
If anyone finds themself planning a London visit, I very much recommend this hotel if you’re into moderates. (Few amenities, rooms only cleaned if you ask, that sort of thing.) The staff is especially lovely — they got me ice. That’s a big deal. Trying to find ice in a London hotel is like trying to find a Yorkshire pudding in an American one. They took me back into the little restaurant kitchen, and sent me off with three glasses of big ice cubes from the freezer. Yay, ice!
Amusing Misadventure — I didn’t wear a headband today since it was warmer, and two people yesterday and one the day before said to me, “I have a wig/hat just like that.” This irritated me extremely. I’ve washed my hair vigorously twice, and it’s still pretty bright, so I haven’t purpled it yet. Maybe I won’t have to.
I’ve been writing to pass the time — I have a half+ draft of of a very Dickensian chamber musical written. If you’re familiar with Dickens and/or the Romantic Poets; it’s principally about the Micawbers, Nell Clenham, and Thomas Gray.
Its usual fate would be this: Printed out, bound, and put in a drawer unproduced. That’s 100% okay. I have a few of these unfinished on top of the upstairs piano. It would sting a little to banish this one though, because I think it’s quite good.
The last time I produced a musical I was swimming in actors and theater people. Since moving, I don’t have the theatrical friends I used to, we’re all spread out now. After a point, I don’t work very well alone. Eventually, you need to make demo recordings, bounce ideas around, and read out loud with another person.
I decided I’m going to be actively on the lookout, but I haven’t decided quite how. I’ll be looking for a baritone-tenor to work with, who could then take the role of Thomas as things progress.
I looked at the rates and specs for the Paramount theatre around the corner. It’s beautiful, but it’s way, way, way too big. I knew it would be. It’s a good thing — if it were 50% the size and didn’t have a balcony, I’d have been tempted to get out my checkbook.
The Peekskill Paramount
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There’s a super-cute small theater about a sixty-second walk from our house. (No kidding!) It’s a “nope” though. It’s marketed as a wedding/events/catering venue. Of course, its rates reflect that.
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I think I probably gasped when I was given the dollar signs for this beautiful, quirky little place. But, being what it is, it would cost several thousand dollars for just one afternoon/evening. Plus, no piano. (And I don’t need canapés at intermission.)
My peculiar little five-person musical play would be most at home in a small 19th century lecture hall or an old stone meeting house, even the large parlor of a grand home. So, that search continues.
But first things first. If you know a “Thomas” candidate, send him my way! We’ll do a video submission. He’d be late 20s/early 30s, handy to Westchester, theatre experience, baritone/tenor, perhaps a bit awkward. I imagine an Adrian Brody type.
Sit Still Phill 