Monday, November 25, 2019

Desirée the doe: or the greatest fairytale musical of them all


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It has been a delightful work week. I've had even more interesting queries than usual come across my desk, all sorts of different musical and theatrical topics which need a little more clarification to help clear away the incomprehensions and misunderstandings which litter 'history' as we've been lazily led to accept it. This wee article has sprung from a chat I had a few days ago with an American colleague, during the course of which the topic of -- guess what? -- the jolly old Black Crook came up.

No, I'm not going to pontificate about C19th America's most enduring legshow, again, I promise. But we got on to the subject of the music which decorated the piece. Whence it had come, and how much of it, if any, was original, and how much if any had survived. Well, we know that Balfe's famous 'The Power of Love' (Satanella) and Lurline's 'Flow on, Silver Rhine' were used, I've told before the story of the 'Naughty Men'. The songs in a féerie were traditionally second-hand: especially in their music. But what interested me was that query that Doug raised 'had any of the dance music come from Paris'? I had always assumed, since the ballets were not credited to any composer, that they would have been the original work of Thomas Baker, the musical director, in the regular French fashion. Well, to cut out any persiflage, after a little scouting, I still think they, very probably, were. They were certainly published (in various arrangements) under his name. But, anyway, the off-chance that anything French had been infiltrated into the pasticco, led me to delve a little into féerie things French and there I got hooked on to a slightly different topic. La Biche au bois.



La Biche au bois is one of the most famous of the great Parisian féerie spectaculars of the second Empire, when the genre and the Paris stage was at its great peak. Or one of them. Its story, taken from the Countess d'Aulnoy's amazingly inventive collection of fairytales, begins as that fairy-christening-cum-Carabosse plot which the English-speaking world knows as The Sleeping Beauty.


Then, the 'opening' having established who was who, it dissolved, more or less, into a series of songs and scenery, of choruses and of ballets, while taking care, in its libretto, always to keep its plot thread -- Prince in search of Princess -- alive. I've just re-read the libretto

https://archive.org/details/labicheauboiso00cogn/page/n3

and I reckon that it stands up really well, 170 years on. Except that, given the womanpower required, it could never be produced today. Anyway, the Prince in order to find his Princess (who hasn't fallen asleep, merely been transformed into a doe), has to fight his way in traditional fashion, through all sorts of extravagant masterpieces of scene-painters and stage-mechanic's art, against some stunning nasties, accompanied by much song and dance, and that makes up the evening's entertainment.



Well, a book could be written about the tale of 'The Hind in the Wood' and its various mutations (notably an unloved one of 1826) into all sorts of theatre pieces, but that's for another time. Doug's query was still in my head. What exactly was (as far as can be redeemed today) the music which was sung and danced in this famous spectacular when its most memorable production was first put on the stage, in 1845 at Paris's Théâtre de la Porte St Martin?

The credits tell us that the large score was 'arranged and composed by Auguste Pilati'. 'Arranged and composed', of course, always meant -- in the style best-known to us today through The Beggar's Opera -- that the songs used pre-loved tunes (known as ponts-neufs) adapted to usually new and sometimes relevant lyrics. Often with their melodies briefly acknowledged in the published libretti in a partially (today) puzzling way. So preambule over: here is the score of the 1845 La Biche au bois, as far (pretty far!) as I've been able to decipher it. With illustrations not always of 1845. The show stayed around for a long, long time.


ACT I

TABLEAU ONE

Scene one: (1) Opening Chorus by Pilati

Scene two: (2) Solo King Drelindindin to the tune of the song 'Un homme pour faire un tableau', originally sung by Vertpré in the 1-act comedy Les Hasards de la guerre (Théâtre du Vaudeville 1802), written by 'citizen Maurice' and according to the critic containing 'quelques couplets heureux'. That was putting it mildly. This tune, written by the prolific Joseph-Denis Doche, became one of the most popular ponts-neufs of the times, used over and over again in musical pieces.



(3) Chorus to the music of the Clochette de la Pagode from Auber's Le Cheval de Bronze. Used also in La Poudre de Perlinpinpin and a number of other pieces.

Scene three: (4a/b) Chorus to the music of La Valse de Greenwich and the Galop des Servantes from von Flotow's ballet music for Lady Henriette, ou La servante de Greenwich




(5) BALLET: Pas des Sonnettes or Clochettes.  Music uncredited, but affirmed to be by Pilati.

Scene five: (6) Chorus to music from Auber's opera Le Serment

TABLEAU TWO (THE YELLOW KINGDOM)

Scene one: (7) Solo for Fanfreluche (formerly Becafigue), the Prince's esquire. 'Il faut avoir perdu l'esprit'. This tune had already been used by the authors/producers in their féerie La Fille de l'air. I see it thus-titled also in a piece called La Baronne de Pichina. And if we dig up the text of La Fille de l'air, we discover that the melody is that of the highly popular song 'En verité, je vous le dis' by the chansionnier Frédéric Bérat, which has in its unadapted form been used in other vaudevilles (La Canaille, La Mère Gigogne which also used 'Le Trois Couleurs', Serment d'amoureux, Un vieux de la vieille roche) ... as well as having its tune reset to words by other well-known lyricists



Scene two (8a) Solo Prince Souci 'Le Point de Jour'. A not unfamiliar phrase, but almost certainly the popular piece composed by Nicolas Dalayrac and first sung by Mons Martin in his opera Gulistan, ou la Hullah de Samarcand.



(8b) a second solo for the Prince based on the romance 'La Peur' aka 'Ne me regardez pas ainsi' music by Albert Grisar

Gabriel as Prince Souci

Scene three: (9) Solo Prince Souci 'Les Trois couleurs'. A all too familiar phrase of the era upon which many a Napoleonic 'patriotic'/propaganda song was built. Vide: the famous poem of Béranger. I see one song-tune thus named used in L'Hôtel des haricots in 1837. And in Le Lion et le rat in 1840. Which maybe the one penned by Adolphe Vogel in 1830. Or not. But whichever tune is referred to, it was used and reused in vaudevilles and elsewhere by motivated musicians.

(10) Ensemble on music from Balfe's opera Les Puits d'amour

Scene four: (11) Chorus on air from Act I of Gulistan (Dalayrac)

Scene five: (12) ensemble: Aika, Prince and Queen on Flotow's air as used in the second act finale of Iwan le Moujick. The only music credited to Flotow in Iwan is noted as being 'no 4 de la musique nouvelle'. The second act finale is noted as being 'from Lucia'. Which is surely Donizetti. Bit puzzled by this.

TABLEAU THREE (THE FAIRY OF THE SPRING). Otherwise Fairy Crab. Here come the baddies. Sadly, she doesn't sing.

TABLEAU FOUR (THE DARK TOWER)

From the 1866 revival

Scene one: (13) Solo Desirée 'Oui je veux voir le ciel et la montagne' to a tune by Hippolyte Monpou

(14) Ensemble Desirée and Giroflée to a melody entitled 'Roi des Hirondelles' which I have not tracked down

Pauline Amant (Mme Th Cogniard) as Giroflée

Scene two: (15) Ensemble: Giroflée and Pélican to the tune kown as 'Prends-garde à ta marotte'. I don't know who composed this melody, nor when, but it was sung by Mlle Pernon in a Cogniard piece entitled Le Fils de Triboulet. Even then, it was not new. It had ?begun life under the title 'Ou donc est, je vous en prie' in the pasticcio vaudeville Judith et Holopherne (1834, Palais Royal), where it was sung by Mlle Déjazet. Whereas all the other numbers are credited, this one is not. It was also used in Iwan le moujick, when the tune's alternative title was given as 'Prends bien garde à ton nez'.




Scene five: (16) Chorus on a piece from Donizetti's Parisina. The same piece had already been used in the Cogniard piece Les Trois Quenouilles.

(17) Ensemble Desiree, Fanfreluche and chorus based on the Air de Bengali from La Planteur by Monpou. Once again, this piece had already served as a solo for Achard in La Fille de l'air.



TABLEAU FIVE (THE SYCAMORE FOREST)


ACT II

TABLEAU SIX (MOTHER GOOSE)

Scene one: (18) Mother Goose's song, to a melody by Henri Potier

Scene three: (19) Hunter's chorus to the tune of 'La Saint-Hubert' by Jullien

Scene four: (20) ensemble Mother Goose and Fanfreluche to a tune (unknown to me) 'Paris à l'eau'

Scene five: (21) Solo Giroflée. To the music of the famous romance entitled 'Les Yeux d'une mère, ou huit ans d'absence' by the popular songwriter (and specialist in 'mother' songs), Loïsa Puget, and popularised by Elisa Iweins-d'Hennin in the nation's concert rooms. Previously used prominently by the Cogniards in Iwan le moujick as a duet for hero and heroine.



Scene six: (22) Solo Prince to the tune of 'Ange de bonheur'. This would appear to be the ballad of that title composed by Joseph Vimeux



TABLEAU SEVEN (THE CENTRE OF THE EARTH)

Scene one (23) trio Giroflée, Fanfreluche, Prince to the tune of 'De tous les maux ici-bas' which appears to have been another hardy annual. It had been used in La Fille de l'air (1837), and it was used in 1820, in a piece titled L'Ermite de Saint-Avelle, when, although the music was declared to be 'by' Guiseppe Louis Ballochi, it was attributed to J D Doche. The score of this piece is in the Sorbonne if anyone would like to check.

(24) Ensemble composed by Pilati

TABLEAU EIGHT (THE INDIAN KIOSK)



Scene one (25) Chorus to the same tune as (24)

(26) Ensemble Desirée, Giroflée based on an air, seemingly sung by Déjazet,
in the 1824 Scribe vaudeville La Haine d'une femme, ou Le jeune homme à marier. Few of the numbers in this piece are credited, but one featured one that is, is the finale written by Adolphe Adam. Maybe, maybe not.


Mlle Grave as Desirée

(27) Solo Prince to the tune of Gatien Marcailhou's 'Valse d'Indiana' as arranged by Pilati. This waltz was on every barrel-organ, pounded out by little girls on tuneless pianos, one of those slightly showy-sounding, heavily marked pieces which scored itself into the fabric of the age ...



Scene three (28) Ensemble Prince, Fanfreluche 'Quel est-ce bruit, cette rumeur'. A piece with Napoleonic overtones which the Cogniards reused (La Cornemuse du diable and probably etc). But who actually composed it ...?

TABLEAU NINE (THE KINGDOM OF THE FISH)



(29) Parade of the fishes (costume parade) to music from Iwan le moujick said to be composed composed by Flotow. This one is confirmed as the 'Air de Lucia'. Lucia who? Miss Lammermoor? Flotow? Bit confused here. I presume they didn't do their fishy marching to the Mad Scene.

(30) Chorus of fishes set to 'La Violette', composed (1828) by Carafa, arranged by Henri Herz, rearranged by Pilati



TABLEAU TEN (THE COTTAGE OF THE INVISIBLES)

(31) Solo: Prince to the tune of 'La Lisette de Béranger', composed by Frédéric Bérat




TABLEAU ELEVEN (THE TERRIFYING ROCK)

(32) Chorus, ensemble and scene music by Pilati

ACT III

TABLEAU TWELVE (THE PALACE OF AIKA)


Scene one: (33) Chorus and ballet (pas de sept) arranged by Pilati on the Pas des Almées from Friedrich Burgmüller's La Péri




Scene three: (34) ensemble King and Pélican. The music given here as 'Les Hussards de Léonore'. I have a feeling this title is from an old tale. But the piece probably has more likely something to do with the Cogniard drama Lénore, ou les morts vont vite (1843) for which Pilati wrote a hussars' chorus.

Pélican
Scene eight: (35) Solo: Prince with chorus on a melody from Donizetti's Lucrezia Borgia

ACT IV

TABLEAU THIRTEEN (THE KINGDOM OF VEGETABLES)

(36) Solo: Canteloup to the 'Air de Colalto', a famous melody by Henri Darondeau, featured initially in the vaudeville Un Tour de Colalto (1809) which was used in many a pasticcio score

TABLEAU FOURTEEN (THE MERMAIDS' CAVE)

(37) Solo The Mermaid arranged by Pilati from Burgmüller's ballet La Péri




(38) Pas Seul. Pas de la Syrene. Music affirmed to be by Pilati. In fact, this dance was a quasi-pas de deux, the soloist having for partner her own shadow.

Hervé? Surely the 1866 revival

TABLEAU FIFTEEN (THE ISLAND OF DELIGHTS)

(38) Chorus uncredited

(39) Duet Prince, Fanfreluche 'to a new tune' (presumably by Pilati?)

(40) Ensemble: Prince, Gambling, Temptation to an air entitled 'Rose Pompon' which could be any one of many of that name

Mme St Hilaire as La Fée Topaze

(41) BALLET of the Temptations affirmed to be by Pilati. Pas seul by Mlle Rosette (Volupté).

(42) Ensemble  Prince, Fanfreluche on a melody from Ségur's 1799 piece Le Gondolier, ou Une Soirée Venitienne, music by François Foignet fils. I imagine it is the same 'Chanson du Gondolier' used for Achard's parody of Rubini in the musical comedy Iwan le moujick.

TABLEAU SIXTEEN (FAIRYLAND)

Scene music. Parade of fairytale characters, ending with La Biche au bois and the apotheosis.




A lot of music for an evening, yes? Plus four ballets, plus 46 pages of dialogue ... the Cogniards gave their public their money's worth!



I haven't yet investigated how much of this Biche went into the making of the major revival (in 30 tableaux and 60 transformations) which was responsible for London's Black Crook, Germany's Prinzessin Hirschkuh, America's White Fawn (for which English conductor Howard Glover turfed out most of the score and popped in 'the greatest hits of Howard Glover!) and the every-increasingly vast revivals over half a century ... but I shall.

The would be fun, too, to see where the triumphant scenes -- the vegetables, the fishes, the Moorish Princess's Castle with its interpolated (later) lion act ....

But for the meanwhile, I'll see how much of this music I can find in published form ... maybe the score could be at least partially reconstructed.


Ok, I'll tell you a secret. I'll tell you why I'm so fond of La Biche au bois. Many years ago, Louis Benjamin of the London Palladium mentioned, over a dinner at a famous East End restaurant, that he was thinking of staging a spectacular pantomime in the coming Christmas. Something tinkled in my brain. I remember that I said something like 'oh do make it not Aladdin or Cinderella ...'. Anyway, in the next day or two I wrote one, until the title of The Black Crook. It was, of course, a 20th century version of La Biche au Bois, with enough music and scenery and fairy costumes to break Coutts's bank ...  Of course, Louis was into a run of long-running musicals and his thought of a pantomime probably didn't last more than the space of a dinner time ... but somewhere on my dwindling shelves, amongst my other attempts at playwriting, there is probably a typescript of The Black Crook ...

Well, well ... look at this .. I suppose this is what's called juvenilia ..









Sunday, November 24, 2019

Trinkets that tell a tale ... or try to


Two items on a back bookshelf ....


I don't think that they have any relation to each other. They've just shared a home for the last decades, as most occasional jewelry does ...


I know what the little shield is. Little Maggie Anderson was dux of Standard III at Blairgowrie Primary School in 1894. Such things meant something in those days, when children were encouraged to strive for excellence. Maggie must have worn it a bit, because two of the clips on the back have been replaced.

I wouldn't have thought that Blairgowrie (not the richest townlet in Scotland) junior school ran to silver for its wee ones ... but what are these marks on the back?




Something, small 't', sideways anchor .... W. something (&?) D.  Can someone with younger eyes and better knowledge translate?

And the ring? What is that? It's sterling silver, because it has 925 inside. Plus a code which looks like (TM) BSD. And this funny Damoclean insignia. Is it something Jewish? It's a nice solid wee ring, which fits my forefinger perfectly. But I've no idea from whence it came ... father? grandfather? ... not, I think from a long-gone lover, for I remember those rings. And the lovers that went with them. And I stopped wearing any kind of jewelry in my mid-20s. And I can't remember ever sporting  sterling silver!


Ah, well. Oh cripes! Here is another! Funny looking thing, and much smaller. But it doesn't have the appearance of a ladies' ring.


It has marks on the inside too. Same sideways anchor. And something &W ...   no, no. Surely this isn't Scots!  It has, however, been engraved inside: 'F C 4th October 1884'.  C?  I can't think of a 'C' in our family, Austrian or Scots.


Is it, perhaps, something from the family of my maiden 'godmother', Ethel Christie (d 1988) ...

Ah ... now this one I DO remember. 'He gave me this charm for my chain...' as Cinderella's buxon sister sings in The Catch of the Season. Well, I didn't have a chain, but it was the thought that counted. He was a sweet, hopeless man of charm ... we met up, a decade later, in St Thomas, VI. He was no longer a TV idol, but a toupeed 40 year-old, I was 'married' to the beautiful Alison ... and on my way to being what he so wanted to be: a writer. Poor John, even then I could tell that he simply couldn't write to save himself ...  Almost 60 years on, I still have this ... and a very faded memory ..


Now, I was looking for a book when all this came along ...


Postscriptum: I have learned a little about assay marks from my pals Allister and Solee over the past hours.  So, Grandma's pendant/brooch is Hallmarked Birmingham 1893. Maker uncertain (W&D?). The sword ring is modern. Made by a firm of sterling silver folk who only started trading in 1970. BSD = Bob Siemon Designs. Lord knows how it got on my shelf. Two down(ish), two to go.

Double postscriptum. St Thomas. Dear John and the toupee ... perhaps I should have let the memory fade and remembered him as he was when 32 .. and I seventeen ..  a decade or so earlier ..




Thursday, November 21, 2019

THE PRIVATE LIFE OF CARL ROSA

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Yesterday, I was asked if I knew the details concerning the identity of the second wife, and the children, of Carl Rosa. I don’t think I had ever bothered to investigate the details of his family life, beyond the death of his famous wife, although I had vague memories that he wed an English chorine from his company named Mary Ann or something. The DNB and Wikipedia both say he had a wife named Josephine (blank), who died in 1929. Oh. Josephine? Really? Is my memory going?

Well, if the DNB and Wikipedia can’t find the truthful and precise facts … its time for Gänzl to have a go.

Right. This seems to be the source of the ‘Josephine’. Daughter Vi’s family gravestone (d 7 September 1929) in Highgate Cemetery.




The only trouble is, that it’s a lie. Violet, Rosa's first child, was, in fact, born and registered as Violet Rosa Lowrey, in 1879, the illegitimate daughter of Carl Rose alias Rosa and chorus singer Eliza [Mary] Lowrey. Mother and daughter can be seen in the 1881 census, staying with Eliza’s Irish mother. Eliza was born (as plain Eliza Lowrey) in Oldham in 1858.

Well, maybe he had other children by other women, including this ‘Josephine’?

Well, yes, he had three other children. And no. Eliza was the mother of all three. There were sons Herbert Charles Rose (sic) and Charles Harold Rose (sic, b 5 December 1883), and daughter Gertrude Sophia ka Sophie (b 30 January 1885), who was actually christened as Rosa rather than Rose.




So, it’s really quite simple. ‘Josephine’ was merely a stage name. Josephine Warren. But there is no evidence of any marriage between her and Carl Rose-Rosa. Not in Britain, anyway. Merely of children.




Eliza Lowrey-Rose/Rosa died in 1927 (10 July).

Vi remained with mother in their 16-roomed house at 17 Westbourne Street, Hyde Park, unmarried .. and died in 1929: her will summoned sister Sophie to be her executor..

Herbert, a tea merchant became a lieutenant in the RFA and died during the Great War, leaving a daughter, Aileen [Maria Valentine] (d Dublin 29 July 1942)

Carl apparently became a seaman, then a farmer in Canada, and died, unwed, in Britain in 1943.

Sophie became Mrs Stanislaus T Hughes and then Mrs Geoghagen Walter Albert and died at Wish Road, Hove 4 May 1961.



There. Is that sufficient in the way of facts?

I don’t know who was responsible for erecting the 1930 memorial at Highgate, and exactly who lies beneath it. I suspect not the man himself. But DNB and Wikipedia can find that bit out ... when they've finished making the above corrections. And maybe finding the putative marriage banns? Come on, boys, these things only take a few hours ...  :-)







Monday, November 18, 2019

Rapprochement, or Kitty Auditions...

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More than six months ago, Wendy rescued a tiny kitten from the winter storms ...

But ... what to do with her? House One at Gerolstein was already occupied by two teenaged grandes dames, the Marchioness Minnie and the very supercilious Princess ChiQi ... House Two is the the property of Sir Socks, a large young handsome male of a nervous disposition. So she was allotted the sleepout as her home. As she grew, she was throughly vetted and speyed ... and at six months she had become very attached to Wendy ...  When I returned from my season at my Winter Palace ...


The door of the sleepout is right opposite my office window. So I see her, every day, perched in the window, watching the peacocks mating attempts, chasing flies and lizards, playing with her 'toys' ... And somebody else spotted her too ...


No obvious signs of antipathy. No arched backs, no hissy-spitting ...

So, last night Wendy took the first step in li'l kittys final 'audition' for permanent residence at Gerolstein... on the the Big Stage in the Gerolstinian living room ...


Minnie clambered down from her couch, immediately, to investigate. They snuffled and patty-caked a bit through the bars ... ChiQi ignored the whole business and the newcomer ... no one seemed unduly ruffled ...  The wee one seemed most intent on finding out what was under her royal red rug ... and watching fat Kirsty on Location, Location. I apologised to her that that was least awful Sky TV can offer on a Monday evening...

So ... watch this space ...




Sunday, November 17, 2019

Ephemera (3) Hal Prince wriggles out ....


I said, in my last episode of Ephemera, that, even in my day, there were some very unpleasant and unethical people involved in showbusiness, and it was our sorry lot, alas, in the 1970s and 1980s (etc), to get involved with a few of them ...

When I say 'in showbusiness', the two particular cases I'm thinking of were rather 'wanna-be in showbusiness (without sufficient knowledge/ability)' gentlemen, both from the world of the legal system, both from the shores of the United States of America, and both got their just desserts, but only after costing other people, real theatre people, a lot of pain, time, trouble and, of course, money.

Mr Fred G Moritt (1905-1995) is one. He would I am sure have been aghast to have been addressed as such. He was JUDGE Moritt. Or 'the Honourable Fred G Moritt'. What does one do to become an Honourable in America? Anyway, this fellow had dramatic ambitions, and when he completed the 112-page script, lyrics and music to a version of The Barretts of Wimpole Street, he sent it, personally, to Hal Prince. On Civil Court of the City of New York notepaper. Well, what does a young director-producer do? It's like a British writer getting a submission from a member of Parliament or the Royal family! Mr Prince made the mistake of replying politely, and agreeing to hear the score. Four months later, he succeeded in extricating himself. I have both letters in my ephemera, decorated with Sir Judge's furious, heavily-underlined comments ...


The story of the fate of Moritt's The Third Kiss has been told before. Notably, by me. How the rights' holders gave the project to a young London producer to manage, how the producer immediately saw that the piece was utterly unstageworthy and hired an experienced director, who hired a skilful librettist and a first-rate composer, and, among them, they turned out, on the same storyline, what is probably the greatest English operetta of the twentieth century: Robert and Elizabeth.

Moritt was ropable. He printed off copies of his unused script, tacked reproductions of Prince's gentlemanly, evasive letters to the front and sent them out to producing managers and playreaders. And somehow, one arrived on my desk ... letters and all .. so, as was my job, I read it ...


Oh dear. Oh very dear. Unproduceable is putting it mildly. I don't remember if there was a tape with it. I don't think so. But it was my invariable unsolicited-musical-reading rule not to listen to a tape unless I had found that the accompanying book had merit. And merit was the last thing The Third Kiss had. More stilted than blue cheese. This script would have gone on the fire years ago, but I had a wee inkling ... and I was right.

One can't blame even a Judge ('... and a bad judge, too') for writing a bad musical. One can't even blame him for using his position to advance his, ultimately dashed, ambitions. But one can certainly blame him for his behaviour, following the West End triumph of Robert and Elizabeth, and the subsequent rush for productions outside Britain. Notably, in America. Or not in America. Once again, using his legal power and threats of court action, supported by libels and lies, he prevented the piece being staged in New York. 



Chicago and Maine cocked a snook at him, and the skies didn't fall. But a first-class production was stymied. And, little by little, American producers tired of being told that it was risky proposition. Who needs that sort of trouble, on top of all the usual troubles involved in a production?

Meanwhile, the authors -- notably librettist Ronald Millar -- invested time and money in trying to challenge the situtation, but finally gave up. As a long letter in my file, from Millar to his New York lawyer, sighs 'what chance have we got in the New York courts against Moritt and his pals'.

But the story has a fairly happy ending. In 1982, the Paper Mill Playhouse applied to produce Robert and Elizabeth. Sir Judge leaped into envious action, waving his usual threats, but this time Millar, somewhat risen in the world in the twenty intervening years (Sir Ronald Millar), decided to go into combat on away-ground. Victoriously. And the Judge, all bluster and no balls, was sunk. 30 October 1982, Robert and Elizabeth opened at the Playhouse with Mark Jacoby and Leigh Beery featured ...

And I could throw away The Third Kiss. Or give it away, as I had my original version of Sail Away. But somehow I didn't. It's still here, today. And everybody is dead ... 


Hopefully, the show is not. As a splendid revival at the Chichester Festival, starring Mark Wynter and Gaynor Miles, showed, it is (especially when shorn of the fashionable large dances and choruses of the 1960s), very, very much alive. Even today, in the era of jukebox musicals and fairytale spectaculars, there exist places, particularly in America, where real, singers' musicals  survive ... 

Oh dear, if every piece of ephemera in this box sends me off into memories of this length ...

PS Yes, to those who said 'who was the other'? Name Maurice or Moritz Rosenfeld (I'm NOT Jewish!) or Rosenfield. It's another long and dirty story. And yes, I was there. I don't have many documents (I threw them, I seem to remember, disgustedly, out) ... anyway, he and, probably nominally, his wife Lois (known in our office as 'Madame with the concrete hair') were involved in Harold Fielding's bringing of Singin' in the Rain to the world's stage. All I need say is that he broke every agreement possible, in the pursuit of dollars,  and -- haha! -- lost them when the rewritten (and horribly cast) version bombed so hugely in America that he had to refinance to show to keep up 'face'. Sadly, against all legal agreements, MTI is still licensing the 'version' that failed on Broadway to companies outside America. If I were younger, and even though Harold and Maisie are dead (as well as the Rosenf(i)elds), and Tommy Steele is rich enough not to worry about the royalties he has been robbed of for his excellent libretto, I'd love to challenge them ... but alas, I haven't the document (which I saw) in my possession .. Mr Lewenstein?


PPS look what I found!  A photo of the day the contracts for Singin' in the Rain were signed. Who knew that the little legal worm could wriggle so deviously, who knew there was a siletto hidden in that concrete hair-do? I guess that there are many showbiz stories of the kind, but this happens to be one in which Ian and I were involved, and of which I have first-hand knowledge.

Well, my scanner insists on reproducing this photo with a dark veil over it ... maybe my scanner knows even more than I do.

Addendum: I have donated my script of The Third Kiss (and the copies of Mr Prince's letters) to an American foundation, whence it is, eventually, when catalogued, destined for the to-be-enormous musical-theatre archive at the University of California. So Judge Freddie will be enshrined in all his inglory in a real, theatrical collection!