Edward, Silver-Lining It

The long- and well-remembered Edward Duke would have been 72 today, and happy heavenly birthday, dear one.

This date is always marked on my wall calendar (yes, wall calendar), along with a couple of other related anniversaries. (I don't take wedding anniversaries, Valentine's Day, Mother's Day, or other commonly claimed self-celebrations, so I'll commemorate my own ridiculous fondness for a goofy twit.)

As it happens, I also received today the summer edition of the quarterly Plum Lines journal of The Wodehouse Society, in which I've previously made a few remarks related to Edward. The administrators of said organization remind me my membership has expired and I owe them money. The thing is, they don't want money in the format I have previously used, a check (or cheque). They want something in the way of a digital payment. 

As my checks (or cheques) are no longer legal tender, it reminds me of how much has changed since Edward tap-danced off this planet in 1994. Computers were just becoming personal and had yet to reach their current status as the means of all communications, commercial, personal, comical, or devious.

Which leads me to the question, how in the world did I find an address for sending my fan letters to Edward? Without an Internet, we had to rely on available reference librarians, industry directories, professional connections included in printed programs saved from theaters. 

Somehow, I figured out that Edward must have belonged to some professional union, such as Screen Actors Guild. (Did I know then that he'd appeared in a few movies already, such as The French Lieutenant's Woman and Invitation to the Wedding? I don't remember. }

I did at last reach some organization and asked in my most professional-sounding big-girl voice to be connected with the membership department. Once connected, I suggested there was some slight urgency for my need to obtain a mailing address for one of their members. The individual receiving my request obliged very politely, perhaps even asking if there were anything else she could do for me. As there was not, I thanked her. 

I should note that this trick did not work ever again, but I had an address, even if I misheard the information and wrote to the wrong street in London. I didn't learn this until at least a year later when I received my treasured autographed publicity photo of Edward in his Jeeves and Wooster costumes.

My memories of Jeeves Takes Charge are dimming, though I saw Edward perform it at least four times. My pictures  (Yes, pictures) of him are on the bookshelf (Yes, bookshelf) next to the piano (digital keyboard) I am attempting to learn to play, and he watches over me, perhaps encouraging me. And I remember his awful Act III tap dance whilst singing "Look For the Silver Lining."

And I do.

Love, hosaa
silver-lininging

Edward Duke, Jeeves Takes Charge. Photo by Martha Swope
(Billy Rose Theatre Division,
New York Public Library Digital Collections, 1983)

Haiku Redux (for Edward Duke)

 This bit was from 10 years ago, but it summarized Edward Duke and his  show, "Jeeves Takes Charge":

Edward Duke

June 17, 1953 - January 8, 1994

Slow tap-dance, quick change,

a heart full of joy.

His limited engagement.

Martha Swope, photographer; Billy Rose Theatre Division, New York Public Library Digital Collections, 1983.

Arise, Jeeves!

Normally I’d only reminisce about Edward Duke on the anniversary of his birth (June 17), but ‘tis the season of my “Jeeves” reflections, ignited this year by the spectacularly long-overdue revival of Edward’s Jeeves Takes Charge stage frolic. 

At the time I saw it, JTC was billed as a “one-man, two-act, 12-character, award-winning comedy tour de force.” Now, the new adaptation lists 22 characters, managed nimbly (I imagine) by Australian heartthrob Sam Harrison in three sold-out performances, February 11–12, at London’s Theatre at the Tabard, Chiswick.

Sam Harrison

It is thanks to the P.G. Wodehouse Society of U.K. (and X/Twitter knowing all about my interests) that I discovered this revival. Following all the rabbit holes of social media, I also discovered that Edward’s   IMDb page had been (lovingly, respectfully, and I assume accurately) updated. 

The biggest treat of all was discovering the archive of original publicity photography for Edward’s “cheap little show” when it landed at New York’s Roundabout Theatre in 1983. 

Only a sample here; credit to Martha Swope, photographer; Billy Rose Theatre Division, New York Public Library Digital Collections, 1983.

Edward Duke as Bertie Wooster

    

Edward Duke as Jeeves

Man of My Dreams

 For Edward Duke, who would have been 70 on June 17.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud to be a member in good standing of the U.S. branch of The Wodehouse Society, and Plum’s deathless prose lives on, as deathless prose is wont to do. But it is my recollection of Jeeves-and-Wooster impersonator Edward Duke who keeps my heart young, merry, and seeking the sunny side of life.

Edward’s 1980s one-man show, Jeeves Takes Charge, was my introduction to P. G. Wodehouse, inspiring me to browse the bookstores (yes, book stores) for handy paperback collections of the stories Edward had adapted. Goofy for a sounder romance following a wrenching heartbreak the previous summer, I daydreamed myself into scenarios with Bertie and Jeeves, in fleet rotation, as Edward accomplished in transforming himself from master to servant at the drop of a monocle.

At one point during this mindless mischief I took out an “In Search Of” ad in the city magazine, noting I was seeking a man “with Jeeves’ brains and Bertie’s heart.” My neighborhood surely housed suitable Wodehousians who would get the reference. None sallied forth with the requisite personal attributes.

I’ve known for a few decades now that the love of my life was destined to be fictional. I had started writing my own “Jeeves/Bertie” love-interest into existence in the form of a modern-day grandson of Jeeves who, after I was denied permission by the Wodehouse estate to use that surname, accepted the name that had haunted me in a dream once in my youth: the mysterious, dark stranger, a lover named Ni (Nigel) Perry.

I’m almost convinced the light romance novel that ensued was the child I never had. The story was conceived in a burst of ecstasy after I’d received an autographed photo as a thank-you for all the mad “Dear Santa” letters I’d sent Edward (and never really expected him to receive). The first draft took about three weeks to write. The final polished draft: done at the end of nine months. 

Baby born! Alas, subsequently rejected some 50 times over by publishers who know better, the Heart of Joy manuscript is quietly bound and shelved, unread, even by myself. I did manage to get a copy of it to Edward, and his assessment was as follows:

“Very funny opening line! Very funny! But then it sort of meandered.”

I tried not to take it personally and guessed he really only had read the first page. Busy man, you know.

Edward Duke, of course, was not in reality the man of my dreams, but for me he made a dashed jolly inspiration for the impossibly handsome, kind, and wise Ni Perry.

Love, hosaa
Heart full of joy and gladness

Saving Three Wishes

 It’s a “It’s a Wonderful Life” Clarence fable

FADE IN.

EXT. AMONG BLUSTERY CLOUDS. NEITHER DAY NOR NIGHT.

CLARENCE the “Wonderful Life” Angel, wearing a pink-and-white-stripped apron with lacy trim, sweeps amongst the clouds, which swirl tormentingly but never really shift. He hums a cheeringly earnest rendition of “My Grown-up Christmas List.”

MR. JORDAN, the suave, nattily attired head of the ethereal betwixt-and-between station, streams in noiselessly while studying the contents of some directives on a clipboard. CLARENCE dances to one side to avoid collision.

CLARENCE

I apologize profusely, Mr. Jordan, but I don’t seem to be getting anywhere with this tidying up you requested.

JORDAN

Oh, that’s all right. I suppose She’s seen worse. She’s done worse.

CLARENCE

I’ve never actually met Her before. Um, how do we address Her? I wouldn’t want to cause offense.

JORDAN (hesitant)

I’m not sure I understand you. We’ll actually have two prominent guests to accommodate presently. The first, I’m sure you’re very familiar with. (GUST of wind blows CLARENCE and JORDAN about like milkweed in a spring storm.) I see She is incoming now.

CLARENCE

Mother! Sweet forbidding forgiving Mother Nature!

CLARENCE and JORDAN bow reverently as the indomitable Supreme Earthly MAMA sweeps in majestically. Our view is completely dominated by this mighty wind. Er, entity.

MAMA

You called.

JORDAN (mystified; checks the clipboard)

I beg your pardon, Madam, I don’t seem to have the correct ….

MAMA

Not you! Her!

HOSAA (off-stage)

aaaah-  aaaah-

JORDAN

Oh yes, I see. Her directives. It seems she has been under the weather.

JACOB "BIFF" MARLEY (appearing through the clouds at his usual clerk’s desk, aims a giggle at Mother Earth.)

“Under” the weather. Get it? They’re all under the weather with You around.

MAMA, JORDAN, and even CLARENCE roll their eyes in perfect unison.

MAMA

I suppose she’s blaming me again.

JORDAN

Well, you did thwart her birthday trip to Florida with that hurricane. And then this Christmas cold, again, thwarting the revised plans.

MAMA

I object!

HOSAA (off-stage)

aaaah-   aaaah-

MAMA 

Is it my fault? Is it my fault? 

CLARENCE

Could have been the housework. You know how germs build up down there. They get dislodged when someone tries to clean without a mask and they breathe in the gunk.

MAMA (haughtily)

My microbes aren’t “gunk.” But of course you are right. We give them tools, those fools. But still they mess with Mother Nature!

Thunder and lightning strike around MAMA’s indictment.

MAMA

Now what do you want?

HOSAA (off-stage)

aaaah- aaaah-

MAMA

Never mind.

MR. JORDAN finishes flipping through the pages on the clipboard and tucks it under his arm.

JORDAN 

Ah. Oh, no, not that. What I mean is, I believe I may be able to illuminate the situation. We have a case I believe is known as unrealized potentiality. Our Great Author (eyes briefly but reverently turned upwards) has endowed Ms. Hosaa with a great gift, that of authorial omnipotence, which she has thus far failed to deploy. I suspect that she has come to a decision?

HOSAA

CLARENCE

Or, perhaps, is still needing the assistance of a handy guardian angel?

BIFF MARLEY (from his corner desk)

We already gave her one!

MAMA nods approvingly at BIFF MARLEY, who beams with the appreciation. 

MAMA (fading out)

I see you have things under control. That’s all I meant. I’m not the omniscient, omnipotent one in the Family. And they all have powers they never use. Or at least never use appropriately. See ya.

MAMA has left the station. MR. JORDAN and CLARENCE approach BIFF MARLEY’s desk for conference. BIFF removes a dusty volume from a rickety bookshelf. He flips through the book’s yellowed and crumbling pages.

BIFF MARLEY

Before digital. Sorry.

HOSAA (off-stage)

aaaah-  aaaah-

As though by magic (you know where we are, right?) scenes from the dusty book appear across the handy Cloud-o-scope monitor. We see a young, scruffy American female with easy and relaxed manners greeting, of all people, a severely stiff-necked and proper English butler. He is there to serve her every need, which she is convinced she doesn’t need. They face each other off indignantly.

Edward Duke, as prototype for "Perry"

CLARENCE

Oh, yes, I remember these two! Our sweet little Ms. Hosaa down there, with all her authorial omnipotence, writes a cute mismatched boy-meets-girl story. Joy and Perry, right?

BIFF MARLEY

They had a happy-ever-after, but the story went nowhere. 

MR. JORDAN (addressing some unseen entity)

Unpublished? There are tools for that, surely?

BIFF MARLEY (flipping through the book’s pages toward the end)

It wasn’t the ending. Look at all these blank pages!

CLARENCE

But surely young Joy and her guardian angel Perry had more adventures to seek, more tales to tell, more conversations we all could enjoy and benefit from!

HOSAA

CLARENCE

The heroine treated her perfect English butler like a roommate. It’s like being given Aladdin’s lamp and all three beautiful wishes, and then setting it aside on a broken-down bookshelf.

BIFF MARLEY

I’ll fix the bookshelf, I just need the tools!

JORDAN (checking the clipboard again)

I think I understand something now. This Ms. Hosaa also stopped wishing for things when she blew out her birthday candles!

HOSAA (off-stage)

Couldn’t think of anything.

JORDAN (smiling knowingly and lovingly)

If the genie grants all the wishes, the genie goes away. Our author fell in love with her own hero! If she finished the story, he’d disappear!

BIFF MARLEY smiles as he closes the unfinished story and replaces the book on the shelf.

CLARENCE

Well that certainly keeps one guardian angel in full employment! Bless you both, my dear!

HOSAA (off-stage)

-chooooooooooooooo!

FADE OUT.

Love,

hosaa, wish-saving

Catch up with "Clarence" (2021) in "Saving Anybodys, or: Forget Americans in Paris"

The "Clarence" oeuvre:

2013: Saving Mr. Potter
2014: Christmas Belle, or Saving Miss Fezziwig
2015: Saving Mr. Sawyer
2016: Saving Mr. Jordan
2017: Saving “Big” Susan
2018: Saving Miss Gulch
2019: How Now, Voyager? Or, Saving Dr. Jaquith
2020: My Fair Freddy, or Saving Pygmalion

A Wordle for Edward

 For Edward Duke (1953-1994), who knew something about my obsessions.

love, hosaa

for love alone

Edward at 18, 50 years later

 As I honor Edward Duke once again on his birthday, I realize one of the gifts he gave me, a photo of himself at age 18, is on this day now 50 years old.

The year this was taken would have been 1971, and at the height of Carnaby Street (London) late-Beatles fashion.

Anyhow, it's not the only gift Edward gave me. Besides giving me a Santa Claus to write crazy fan letters to and inspiring me to write, he gave me this theatre card from Ford's Theatre, which I have no idea to whom I should leave it after I'm gone. Ford's Theatre?

Or maybe The Wodehouse Society? Because you see, it turns out there was one more gift Edward Duke gave me, far too posthumously, which is an introduction to P. G. Wodehouse and the Society of fans of Plum's writing. 

There is, in addition to this fan club and its publications, an archive of all things Wodehouse at Vanderbilt University. The collection already has the Edward Duke voiced tapes of Jeeves stories, but the dual "portraits" of Bertie and Jeeves on this poster might charm future generations of Wodehouse lovers. Something to note in my "In Case of Death" file.

Happy Birthday, Dear Edward!

Nostalgically yours,

hosaa

Edward and Joan

In honor of Edward Duke's 67th birthday, I post this pic from his work with his much-adored Joan Collins in Private Lives.

This was scanned from the program during their stay at Washington, D.C.'s National Theatre. To welcome Edward to town during this run, I'd sent him flowers and chocolates, along with a note letting him know what day I had a ticket for (a not-very-subtle hint that I'd probably try to sneak backstage and see him after the show).

And I did sneak around the backstage area to check in with the security guard and ask if it would be possible to visit Edward in his dressing room. I gained admittance and directions to the stairs (or elevator--I don't remember) to the second-floor dressing rooms. As I navigated the corridor full of various dressing room doors, Edward began calling out to me! The security guard had no doubt alerted him to my impending arrival.

He met me at his door and gave me the biggest, dearest, warmest hug, I think, I'd ever had. But I'm just a fan! A fan who wrote fan letters regularly and hopefully, as though I were writing to Santa Claus.

He mentioned the play I'd written and sent to him--a play he inspired, but at the time I didn't know how closely I'd hit the mark. "You've written a PLAY!" he gushed. "A play about ME!!" I replied as quietly as possible, "I hope not." The play, you see, was about an actor who dies of AIDS.

We chatted as old friends, though really we weren't. I found out he knew Joan personally, not just professionally (she'd recommended him for the part of "Victor," the new husband her character abandons). He even vacationed with her to the Côte d'Azur (French Riviera), yet Edward was a bit intimidated by Joan. He hushed me whenever her name come up, indicating the porous nature of the dressing room walls. And he told me he'd given my chocolates to her: "She's mad about chocolates!"

Edward died in 1994, two years after my last encounter with him in Private Lives. Joan included him in one of her memoirs, possibly Second Act, published in 1997. I didn't buy the book, unfortunately, but remember browsing the passages about Edward's illness (which was ongoing at the time of his tour with her). Somewhere she wrote the words "Only the best."* I'm not sure if she meant this as a description of Edward Duke or simply a motto in life. But it does capture my feelings about the actor and the man.

Only the best and for love alone,
hosaa

ETA - *possibly it was Una-Mary Parker who ascribed this characterization to Edward. I was aware of their friendship and mutual support. It was Una-Mary who designed Edward's costumes for Jeeves Takes Charge and it was Una-Mary who contacted me after Edward's death (he had used her address in London as his official point of contact). She told me she knew my name very well, so it's likely she as well as Edward read my "Santa Claus" letters.

I also think it likely Una-Mary was the one who autographed Edward's photo for me; her handwriting matched. In her letter, she said that Edward had asked her to add "Duke" to her name; other than in her letter to me, I see no evidence that she did so. She also told me that my play "about Edward" was about her as well--the fan who took care of the dying actor. Only now, browsing online, have I learned she died a year ago.

RIP dear sister fan, reunited with a beloved force! Give him a hug from me. xo xo

Remembering Edward

June 17: Happy Birthday to Edward Duke, who would have been 64.

I've not really run out of things to say about him, but my memory is evaporating. I do recall the afternoon I spent in his dressing room at the National Theatre, where he was performing in Private Lives with Joan Collins. He had a long break in Act II when it was all about Joan, so we could visit for a bit.


I sat, and Edward lay flat on the floor to ease his backache. Conversation was awkward from that angle, but he filled a brief shy silence with a question that sounded almost like a litmus test.

"Do you like animals? I do."

Whether any discussion of our respective pets ensued, I don't recall. But I've used that line to fill in awkward gaps ever since.

love, hosaa
cat widow

Edward Duke, Author

For Edward Duke (1953-1994)

Edward Duke as Bertie Wooster, 'Jeeves Takes Charge'

Thank you for the gift of authoring a very unexpected chapter in my life.

Love, hosaa
remembering joy

Visions of Grace at Ford's (The Glass Menagerie)

Dear Edward Duke,

It's been 30 years since I first saw you at Ford's Theatre in your "cheap little show"--then as today the Sunday matinee closer. I still disagree with you that Sunday matinees are the worst houses, for we gave a heartfelt standing ovation to the cast of The Glass Menagerie: Tom Story as Tom Wingfield, Madeleine Potter as Amanda, Jenna Sokolowski as Laura, and Thomas Keegan as Jim O'Connor (aka the gentleman caller).

As proof of this cast's worth (and a concession to your insistence that Sunday audiences are bad), when a cell phone went off twice (yes, the caller called the same phone twice) during a particularly poignant speech of Laura's near the end of the show, Sokolowski held her breath and held the moment and the magic until it was safe for her to continue her speech. GoodNESS! I imagine they all--as you and I would have--wanted to go all Patti LuPone on that "I'm too important to turn my cell phone off" audience member's ass, but they didn't.

Tom, was that one of the tricks up your sleeve? The magic act that actors and poets and playwrights and other dear things rely on to keep us on the edges of our seats, breathless?

Edward, you would have loved Tom Story. Edward, meet Tom; Tom, Edward. As much as I love Tom's comedic roles, there is power in his drama. I'll confess I was tempted to wiggle my way backstage to gush, but my Laura side demurred.

I also wanted to tell Laura that it gets better. I cried when they danced: The gentleman caller sweeps the "crippled" girl up in a sweet waltz and she is suddenly transformed. He gives her a vision of herself as graceful and alive. I want her (and me) to not let disappointment turn into discouragement. It's a delicate balance (oh, wait--that's Albee).

And even if my happy memories of Edward Duke are no more substantial than a glass unicorn, they are a treasure of infinite worth for the joy they brought--and bring.

Happy Anniversary, dear old thing.
love,
hosaa

Cheers, Edward Duke

For Edward Duke, who would have been 62 today.

from The French Lieutenant's Woman, with Jeremy Irons

Love, hosaa

singing his praises, toasting his memory

Eternal Equinox of A Midsummer Dream

This will have to be a two-parter.

Chapter 1, Wherein I Meetup with Shakespeare Explorers

... for a Kennedy Center performance of A Midsummer Night's Dream by Bristol Old Vic and the Handspring Puppet Company (who previously collaborated on War Horse).

This was the second Midsummer I've seen with the Explorers, and the two productions really only shared Mr. Shakespeare's text. That's the thing about dreams--always open to interpretation, reinterpretation, new visions, and new magic. While much of the success of any Midsummer begins and ends with the antics of Bottom the Ass (and BOV's Miltos Yerolemou displayed a wondrously versatile ass), so many aspects of this production were so extraordinary that it was impossible to refrain from standing up and cheering.

Via Kennedy Center

My favorite innovation here was the multi-actor/appliance casting of Puck. As a sprite, Puck was depicted coming and going in a most ephemeral way--with each of three actors bearing pieces of his being (assorted gardening tools) coming together and flying apart.

A wonderful time at the theater with some great folks to talk to, before and after. And that wasn't even the most exciting part of the night for me.


Chapter 2, Wherein I Make another Connection to Edward Duke

So this is also the second time in recent months I got to meet someone who once worked with Edward. (For the story of the first, which happened last December, go here and scroll to my brief encounter with Keith Baxter.)

During the intermission of last night's show, I was chatting with one of my Meetuppers about the musical she is writing--not a professional work, she caveated, but something that captured her imagination to the extent of having completed the lyrics for five songs.

As sometimes happens in theaters with awkward sightlines and a few available seats closer to the action, a gentleman from farther back asked to take a space next to my friend. So we continued our conversation, including our new neighbor. He volunteered that he, too, was a playwright.

Oh, anything we would have seen around here?

Um, a few ... and on Broadway. (Our amateur eyes lit up.) ... "Crazy for You"...

I literally gasped. I LOVED that!!  It took me a moment to summon the name. KEN???

The gentleman then introduced himself while I was heartily shaking his hand: Ken Ludwig.

Ken Ludwig, photo by Leslie Cashen

As Midsummer's second act began, I couldn't stop searching my memory banks to confirm that this was the playwright of Sullivan and Gilbert, which featured Edward Duke in the role of the stagestruck Alfred, son of Victoria.

So after the performance was over, our standing ovation segueing into heading for the exits, I asked Ken to confirm my memory, which he did. And I got to remind him that it was in fact in this very same theater (the Eisenhower) that his Sullivan and Gilbert was performed. It was the first time I met Edward, who had actually called me up at my office to invite me! (My recap of meeting Edward is here.)

Ken smiled and told me what a sweet man Edward was. They spent a lot of fun times together when the show opened in Toronto. "Very sweet man."

All of this made me very happy. But as it happens, Ken has a further connection with us: Shakespeare!

Order at Amazon

Love, hosaa

Always connecting

Remembering my joy

Edward Duke

June 17, 1953 - January 8, 1994

Slow tap-dance, quick change,

a heart full of joy.

His limited engagement.

Catch-Up: Nuts and Lyons and more nuts, oh my!

Hosaa crawls back to the second-to-last row of the balcony, taking back her comfortable place in the audience following brief (but occasionally long-winded) attempts at providing content....

Knowing the Fall would be a bit over-scheduled, I let the recapping here go a bit. But now it is the end of the year, and I have a few notes to share. I'll keep them brief, if possible. (No guarantees on that.) I'll take any opportunity available to mention Edward Duke and Clay Aiken in the same post, but let's start with the more recent past.

The Nutcracker ~ Joffrey Ballet, Kennedy Center, November 30, 2013 (evening performance)

Overproduced. Very pretty, with lovely dancing, but too busy. The Washington Post's review of the production mentioned the voluminous clouds of dry ice and the snowflake and flower-petal shaped confetti littering the stage, which caused at least two dancers to fall during the performance I saw.

There also were simply too many people on stage. Love to see jobs for dancers, but when your eye doesn't know where to go, you miss some major plot points. (Yes, Virginia, there are plot points in The Nutcracker.) I totally missed Clara chucking her slipper at the Mouse King, which drives the grateful folks in Candy Land to dance their thanks to her in Act II.

Christine Rocas and Rory Hohenstein in the Snow Pas de Deux, courtesy of The Joffrey Ballet via Facebook

Highlights for me were the Arabian lady (Coffee), danced by Christine Rocas, and the surprising balloon airlift out of fantasy land, a la Wizard of Oz. (Unfortunately, that ended the show before Clara/Dorothy could wake up and realize that her dream had been a gift.)

Finale, Joffrey's Nutcracker. Via Facebook

Speaking of gifts and gratitude, however, I am extremely thankful to my dear friend who gifted me this ticket, which not only gave us the God view of the stage, but it also gave me the opportunity to enjoy the experience with someone very knowledgeable about dance! Great fun.

Henry IV by Luigi Pirandello, translated by Tom Stoppard, Lansburgh Theatre, December 9, 2013

The second of this season's free ReDiscovery Series readings, produced by the Shakespeare Theatre Company, here starred the previously described "ferocious" actor Patrick Page as the aristocrat-gone-nuts in Pirandello's blackly comic psycho-social satire. In Stoppard's contemporary interpretation, there was more comedy than I remembered when I read the play at Grinnell (the version in the classic Naked Masks anthology), especially in the form of the four characters in search of a meaningful life as a madman's indulging servants.

But I could barely take my eyes off Page, who, in this stripped-down staged reading (no costumes, no sets, minimal but meaningful stage business), delivered a fully realized character. You want ferocity? Duck. You don't expect mayhem in a polite weeknight reading, but he did all the choking and stabbing required. Hot holy hoo-hah!

Patrick Page, via PatrickPageOnline.com

I skip momentarily over the next STC event to note:

The Lyons ~ Round House Theatre, December 19, 2013

(L-R) Naomi Jacobson, John Lescault, Marcus Kyd, Kimberly Gilbert - cast of The Lyons. Courtesy of Round House Theatre, via Facebook

Well alrighty. More dysfunctional family black comedy at RHT. Sigh. At least this one had more comedy going for it than the Beauty Queen, and I am genuinely beginning to admire the range in Kimberly Gilbert, who I've now seen in three productions this season.

Kimberly Gilbert, courtesy of Round House Theatre via Facebook

I could use a thematic break, though. A sister-audience-member I spoke with at Ford's Laramie Project mentioned that she was also considering dropping her RHT subscription if this is the artistic direction the theater is taking for its future.

That said, the Lyons matriarch "Rita" (Naomi Jacobson) did have me thinking about my own mother, who I don't think was nearly as disregarding of the feelings of others as Rita is in this play. And that said, when plot lines and characters come this close to home, I prefer to experience them from some safer distance. Give me Lady Macbeth or something.

Now let's skip back to my audience-hood experience:

Meet the Cast reception for The Importance of Being Earnest, Shakespeare Theatre Company, Sidney Harman Hall, December 12, 2013

Thanks to another dear friend, who is a supporter of the Shakespeare Theatre Company in a more tangible way (donor) than I am (slobbering fangirl) I got to sit in on the introductions of the cast for the forthcoming production of The Importance of Being Earnest.  

Director Keith Baxter introduces the cast of The Importance of Being Earnest. Uncredited photos courtesy of STC

This was a first for both of us, and we didn't realize that the main benefit of this event was the fantastic food and beverages served in the upstairs lobby after the presentations. We got the last few nibbles after the Shakespearean hordes had invaded (absolutely yumm-o), and then mingled with the cast.

The well-cast role of "Jack Worthing" went to one Gregory Wooddell, who was too handsome and charming for us to come within five donors of him at the reception.

Gregory Wooddell, cast reception. Courtesy of STC

We did, however, speak to a young "Ensemble" cast member, Logan DalBello, a local boy (Takoma Park) making his way on the theater scene. Very sweet kid.

Logan DalBello speaks with guests at meet-the-cast reception for The Importance of Being Earnest. (Hosaa's elbow seen at far right.) Courtesy of STC, via Facebook.

Logan told us humbly that he was absorbing the older, more experienced actors' wisdom "like a sponge." It reminded me of the advice that Edward Duke once told me he'd been given by Sir Ralph Richardson during the filming of Invitation to the Wedding: "It would be better," Sir Ralph told young Edward, pointing at some indistinct location behind him and well off-camera, "if you stood over there." Logan laughed, though I'm sure he had no idea what the hell I was talking about.

The other cast member we got to speak with was the lovely young thing set to play "Cecily." (It was dark in the theater during the introductions, so I didn't get a chance to write down any names; STC hasn't posted the cast list yet, and my memory fails me now.) In my clumsy attempt to be engaging and topical, I interrupted her while she was answering my question about how she prepares for a new role. ("Organically," she seemed to be saying.) My urgent comment was about there not being an iconic reference for "Cecily" like there was for, say, "Maria" in The Sound of Music, tripping up purists into any form of appreciation for the likes of Carrie Underwood.

Sorry I mentioned it. And very sorry I interrupted poor "Cecily."

So, back to my Edward Duke obsession. During his introductory remarks, director Keith Baxter mentioned that he'd been in the production of Private Lives with Joan Collins. My ears pricked up! OMG! He must have known my Edward!!

Baxter was not actually in the performances I saw at National Theater back in 1992 (we got Simon Jones in the role that Baxter played), but perhaps it was on Broadway or in London.

Anyway, I was very anxious to collar him at the reception and find out anything he could tell me about Edward. In the rush and crowd, I asked him about the "Joan Collins production of Private Lives," and Baxter seemed to think I wanted to talk about Joan Collins. So I blurted out as quickly as I could, "Were you in the show when Edward Duke was in it?"

He didn't seem to remember at first, but then he did say, "Oh, yes. Lovely man." He then went on to express an opinion about Miss Collins, which was irrelevant to me, but he seemed determined to provide some juiciness to our brief discussion. I was just in heaven dreaming about the "lovely man" that Edward Duke was, that he should be so remembered by a fellow actor some 20 years later.

Yes, I'm that fangirly. Still.

Which brings me back to the earlier event I have yet had a chance to recap, which isn't strictly speaking an entertainment.

Champions Gala, National Inclusion Project, October 12, 2013

This year marked the 10th anniversary of the organization co-founded by Clay Aiken, who, according to the Web site, remains Chairman of the Board. Galas are normally out of my price range, especially when it involves travel. I went to last year's because it was local, and even sprung for the VIP ticket for the meet-and-greet and group photo (and bad luck on that, hosaa was not seen in photo).

The event was held in Charlotte, so within driving distance for me. The cheap seats with a reduction in goodies got me in for $75. It was an inspiring evening, though unfortunately Clay didn't sing as much as we all wanted him to (he did sing quite a bit, apparently, at the VIP event the night before).

Clay Aiken sings "You Are the Song" to thank donors and volunteers on the occasion of the National Inclusion Project's 10th Anniversary. Photos courtesy of National Inclusion Project via Facebook

And even sadder for many attendees, the one song he did sing at the end of the evening seemed like a goodbye song. He'd also hinted about changes of life direction and won't we all still support the NIP if he's not around?

WTF? Is he leaving NIP? Is he leaving show biz? Is he - dying?

Well, some people were/are more upset/angry/scared about all that than I was/am. My Edward Duke obsession taught me patience. In the pre-Internet days, I could go years between news items about Edward. When he was cast in Sullivan and Gilbert, for instance, I heard about it from friends who saw him performing in Toronto and sent me a copy of the program.

It was a full two years from that afternoon that Edward let me hang out in his dressing room during Private Lives' Act II before I heard the next tidbit about him. A friend called me at work to report reading his obituary in The New York Times.

So you see, I've lived through the anxiety of silence, and I've lived through a worst-case scenario.

I don't know what to make of Clay Aiken's future just yet. All I know is that it's been fun and interesting to watch him build a future after that first Wild Card scenario 10 years ago. I'm just hanging onto my seat in the audience. That's one subscription I'm not letting lapse!

Love, hosaa
waiting

As Read by Edward Duke

Happy Birthday to Edward Duke, who would have been 59 today. Your voice will live on in my heart and continue telling me stories.

As luck would have it, copies of the long-out-of-business Buckingham Classics "Jeeves Takes Charge" audiobook are still available on the resale market.

And a special treat for all Edward Duke fans, a Hosaa's Blog exclusive excerpt:

For love alone,
hosaa

The Voice of a Master Twit

For my fellow Edward Duke fans, I've been trying to locate digital versions of the audiobooks he recorded for Buckingham Classics, which no longer seems to exist.

Best we can do commercially is the audiocassette compilation All About Jeeves, which repackaged Edward's two original Buckingham cassettes.

The stories are:

"Jeeves Takes Charge" and "Bertie Changes His Mind," which were Acts I and II, respectively, of Edward's stage production, plus "The Chump Cyril" and "Jeeves and the Hard-Boiled Egg," originally packaged as "Jeeves Comes to America."

(Incidentally, Act III of the Jeeves Takes Charge stage production--"Wooster in Wonderland"--was Edward's invention, pulling together all of the best characters and plot devices of the Wodehouse universe--including aunts, country fairs, newts, fiances, and the world's worst tap dance, performed by Bertie while singing "Look for the Silver Lining.")

Sadly, I had ordered my copy of "Jeeves Comes to America" right about the same time dear Edward died, in 1994. It was recorded in 1993, and I fear he was likely quite ill at the time. I tried only once to listen to this recording and just couldn't get through it. My heart couldn't bear it. It's about time I tried again, now, isn't it!

There is one more piece of Edward Duke audio in my collection (also on tape. It was a sad decade, the technologically transitional 1990s). It is the interview that he conducted with WETA TV and radio personality Robert Aubry Davis, for his show Desert Island Discs. I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Davis in Edward's dressing room--and the audacity to ask for a copy of the interview.

I'll see what I can do about converting some of these tapes into digital audio, and will try to share as much as I can within the limits of fair use. I miss Edward's laugh, his wit, his mastery of the art of the twit.

Love, hosaa

looking for the silver lining (and tap dancing, very badly indeed)

Wishing Us Love

Back from I Wish You Love at the Kennedy Center, which plays for just one more night. I find I dislike Saturday night crowds, but I enjoyed participating in the rousing and well-deserved standing ovation for the small but gifted ensemble portraying Nat King Cole, two of his bandsmen--his "people"--and the characters behind the scenes of Cole's late 1950s television series.



Dennis W. Spears portrayed Cole, and if there were a dictionary entry for the term "shit-eating grin," you would find an image of Spears as Nat "King" Cole preparing his face and demeanor for the viewers out there in TV-land. An array of studio monitors orbiting the set depicted the show in a remembered black-and-white reality distinctly different from the live, full-bodied presence on the stage. In the breaks during the show, the monitors silently offered the program sponsors' black-and-white (rather, all-white) view of the American consumer.

For the honor of being rich in white America, Cole had to be the package of an acceptable black man, and this meant jumping through a series of fiery hoops, including playing a tour date in Alabama in 1957. He and his people were attacked not just by the KKK but also by the police. Upon returning to the studio and encountering the demand of the sponsors to segregate his own band, Cole finally refused. On his last aired program (in this fictional account, which I can only speculate is based on truth), Cole displays a sign he picked up from his travel South: "We Serve Coloreds ... Take Out Only."

Battles fought decades ago are still being fought, not just by one group of people robbed of its dignity, but also by others. The day after the anniversary of Edward Duke's birthday, he is much on my mind. He died in 1994 when it was almost impossible for an openly gay actor to get work as a leading man.

Before he came out of the closet, Rupert Everett got a lot of the roles that Edward would have been up for, I think. (The role that made him famous was the one most stereotypically gay, as Julia Roberts's confidante in My Best Friend's Wedding.)

Most of the bullying and hatred aimed at people like Clay Aiken may be because he wasn't open and (in my opinion) didn't conform to the stereotypes that straight America wanted. If you're queer, you should act queer, like those gays on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. Entertain us with your swishy nonchalance, and don't confuse us by acting--you know--normal.

I always hated that show, and now I sort of understand why. Not for any "shit-eating-grin" behaviors depicted by the individuals participating in it, but for the attitude of my friends who loved the show so much. Why would they love those gays and not Clay? And why would my family love seeing Edward do his "Jeeves" tales but not want to hear one word about his "unhealthy lifestyle"?

I want everyone to be happy. I want the world to be beautiful. I want to wish it love, too.

love, hosaa
wishing for love

Another Year, Missed

To Edward Duke, who would have been a distinguished 58.

I'm always remembering some small tidbit or other. Edward inspired me to write a story, then a play, with characters based on him (or at least my idea of him).

Once when I met him in his dressing room, I mentioned that I'd written another screenplay, but that it wasn't inspired by him.

He looked at me, at first registering hurt. And then he smiled that Edward Duke smile of his and said:

"It's good you've outgrown that!"

Love, hosaa
looking for the silver lining

Carpetbagger's Triptych

Back from The Carpetbagger's Children at Ford's Theatre, a Texas based 1930s memory piece by Horton Foote.

Ford's brings back special memories for me and an anniversary of sorts (though not the day exactly). It was a bright, crisp Sunday afternoon in a February far far away that brought me the bright, crisp off-key dancing and braying laugh of Edward Duke in Jeeves Takes Charge, the "one-man, two-act, 12-character, award-winning comedy tour de force," if he does say so himself.

So sitting in the balcony before the beginning of a play I knew nothing about, I was re-imagining my Edward and his many voices and faces, merry costumes and clever scene changes and all, enchanting me for a couple of hours and embodying the storytelling genius of Wodehouse.

So why did the format of Carpetbagger make me so impatient? The scene was static, with three actresses portraying sisters, each in her own panel of the triptych of a Texas cotton farm homestead, each taking a turn telling the story of their family to the audience but almost never interacting with each other. Yet each took on the voice and personality of the characters whose stories they were telling.

Storytelling with impersonations is exactly what Edward did for Jeeves; it is not a particularly original format. But with the Carpetbagger's girls, I was having a few of those "Why are you telling me all this?" moments and shifting in my seat a bit waiting for the plot to begin.

When I relaxed into the format a bit (thanks for reminding me, Edward), I let the power of the personalities on stage persuade me their story was worth the telling, even if I didn't get it at first.

One sister was constantly pressed to sing "The Clanging Bell of Time," or whatever the dashed name of the song was, which became an anthem for the passage of the family members' lives.

And, like Charming Billy over at Round House, the play seemed to say we are surrounded by our memories as we live through them, even if we cannot directly interact with the actors in our dramas.

love, hosaa
Story listening