Notes from the Shadows of Cooperstown
Observations From Outside the Lines |
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NOTES FROM THE SHADOWS OF COOPERSTOWN
Observations from Outside the Lines
By Two Finger Carney (carneya6@borg.com)
#357 AUGUST 9, 2005
AFTER MORNINGS AFTER
I think the production will be well done, but lately the old G. K. Chesterton quote, "What is worth doing, is worth doing badly" keeps popping to my mind. Chesterton championed the amateur vs the professional (especially in parenting), preferring the work of those who love what they are doing -- that's what amateur means, of course.
That's what I wrote last issue, looking ahead to the August 6th debut performance of my old (1992) play Mornings After at the SABR Convention in Toronto. I also predicted that those doing the thing (a dramatic reading, with songs) would have a ball. And altho I am a notoriously poor forecaster when it comes to baseball, I think both predictions were right on target.
A few weeks before, I had organized a 40-years-later reunion for a bunch from my college days, and observed that those of us who were in on the planning from the start had the most fun -- we got to talk to or exchange dozens of e-mails with old friends not seen in decades, and we got to imagine how to pull it off and make it worth the trip for all those interested in joining us.
This time, a dozen or so of us had the most fun, I'm sure, pulling together an evening's entertainment for a SABR audience of around a hundred. It's hard to say exactly how many times our theater's turnstile clicked -- like every other event and session at this (and every) SABR convention, people came and went freely, although most stayed for the whole ninety minutes. Some left in the early innings, some missed those innings but came in late and got hooked and held on till it ended. When it's free, the numbers in the seats are not that important. We would have had a ball doing it for an audience of ten. But the more did make it merrier. If you were there -- your comments are welcome!
The dozen or so -- we called ourselves "The Cup O'Coffee Company" after one of the songs in the show, and because we were getting what might be our first and last trip to the stage -- included ten or so who did the actual performing, our director, our pianist, assorted spouses, and myself. There were others involved, too, who were not on the scene. Maybe the best way to explain how it went will be to thank everyone for their part.
THE PLAY'S THE THING
Mornings After is one of the very few baseball things I've written that you can't look up in NOTES -- not in the issues that are on line, at least. It did run in issues #92-100, back at the end of 1994, in an early version that included sidebars about some of the players and events included in the play. In 2000, thanks to a referral by Dorothy Mills (Seymour), I worked with Lowell Kammer of Niagara Falls, turning MA into a musical. That was an important improvement.
But Mornings, like its main character Paddy, remained obscure and untried, coming close a few times to its own "cup of coffee," but never getting that chance. Performing it as a dramatic reading at a national SABR convention was, looking back, a stroke of genius -- not mine, but Susan Dellinger's.
I met Susan on that long and winding and strange path into the wonderful world of the B-Sox -- I had been addicted for over a year, and Susan was researching a book about her grandfather, the Reds' centerfielder in the 1919 World Series, Edd Roush. (Susan had discovered the real identity of the mysterious gambler "Jimmy Wigmore" -- not his real name, but that's how he had been mistakenly designated in books and interview transcripts. Her find was the subject of an article in last year's convention program.) We met in Cincinnati last July and had kept in touch, and sometime last May, Susan tossed out the proposal.
She had already been instrumental in landing me a role in the ESPN program on the Black Sox that aired this spring. When we learned that there indeed was still room on the Toronto schedule, my response was something like, "Are you sure you're not my agent?"
In recent issues of NOTES I think I have mentioned what having this particular wish come true meant for me. It turned an already full summer into the busiest time of my life, and I write that looking back on nearly sixty summers now. Susan and I have worn out our e-mail-sending computers over the last few months, discussing dozens (it seemed like hundreds, at times) of details. Nothing seemed to come easy; but everything came together. I had no idea how many hours the project would consume. But it was the kind of work that was actually fun. Didn't count the hours.
THE LINEUP CARD
I am tempted to include in this lineup those who were in the Company for a while, then finally had to opt out. Even their temporary presence gave us a support needed at that time. But let me instead thank those who, in the end, came through.
Jeff Campbell's SABR Committee devoted to Music and Poetry helped us recruit several members. Ty Waterman became our Paddy and that meant an experienced actor at the anchor. Because Ty also sang -- and could rehearse at home before Toronto with his wife Jan, our pianist -- doing the songs became thinkable, and ultimately do-able. Ty and Jan enabled us to include three of the four Paddy solos, and one of the two duets.
The opening April Duet was salvaged thanks to Joanne Hulbert, who was able to rehearse once with Ty and Jan before the convention. Joanne also took on the challenge of playing an early baseball Annie, not a pale, deadball-era imitation of the Annie Savoy of Bull Durham fame, but a singing, clowning Annie in her own right.
Susan herself salvaged the "All Star Game" intro number, about which I had my doubts. I also questioned the wisdom of trying the group number "One of the Boys" -- Susan proved me wrong, I am delighted to say, on both counts, and "One of the Boys" will surely be the best-remembered tune by those who performed it, if not the audience.
Susan also recruited Pete Cava, who had an "extra" part in Eight Men Out. Pete added the fun and humor and creativity of eight men to Mornings, not to mention an assortment of terrific sound effects. I'm not sure that I had ever run into someone who could reproduce (with or without a microphone) the actual feel of the ballpark announcer, complete with echo.
Maxwell Kates was our Toronto connection, who contributed not just an amazing and lively bass voice, but a fun interpretation of Paddy's roomie. Whether his nickname, The Beetle, will stick, remains to be seen. Maxwell also set up a fun pre-performance dinner at Big Daddy's, a seafood restaurant that I returned to later with my wife.
My wife Barbara is a kind of Mrs Columbo in these pages, mentioned far too little, but probably too often to suit her. She wanted to see Mornings debut, and wound up at the piano, turning the pages for Jan. It was fun for me to have Barb at a SABR convention, even for just a day or so -- she was as out of her element as I would have been at one of her annual Berkshire Choralfests.
I had been in touch with Cecelia Tan this spring about her appearance at our SABR Regional (a week before Toronto), where she presented on her new book The 50 Greatest Yankee Games. She agreed to play both Paddy's wife Bess, and one of his great-grandchildren. Which she did, with great effectiveness. We should all be so lucky to turn into kids now and then, methinx.
Speaking of SABR Regionals -- I've enjoyed working with Dick Hunt on our chapter's program, three or four times every year with dazzling regularity, ever since we started the group up -- to enable Dick, a principal, to affiliate his school's SABR group. I don't know why every chapter hasn't done this by now, bringing kids to baseball history ... and also bringing together real kids with us bigger, older kids who just love the game. It is too bad Dick appears to be one of a kind, but we can hope he is also a pioneer. Dick has been incredibly supportive in all kinds of ways over these years, so it was no surprise that he volunteered to help with Mornings however he was needed. He wound up with a small role (one he could almost literally sleep through!) or two, but he also enlisted his wife Lori, who played Paddy's other great-grandkid, convincingly.
Rick Huhn was, I think, a recruit from my B-Sox network. He is researching Chief Bender, and requested that role in Mornings, and did a nice job. Like Susan and myself, Rick also donated a working spouse. It turned out that we needed a reliable person to deliver the paper almost every morning of the performance, and Marcia chipped in that work and more.
Jan Finkel was a last-minute recruit who not only turned in a nifty performance on short notice, but made the unique and very-much-appreciated contribution of keeping me off the stage.
The trouble with thanking folks is that it's hard to stop. I need to thank Lowell Kammer for the sound of his music, and the SABR powers that be for adding this event to the convention menu, and assisting in a dozen other ways (lights, camera, mikes, risers, space to rehearse, stuffing the goody bags with our flyers, trusting our belief that it was worth all the added work) ... not to mention the staff of the Holiday Inn on King.
For those wondering, my role turned out to be Utility (literally -- I manned the lights). At various times I was cutter of the script, advisor, prop man, music man (I hauled the keyboard), peacekeeper, coordinator, marketer (the flyers, the programs), critic (I got to break all ties), and doer of whatever it took to keep the eyes on the doughnut and not the hole. I was Susan's partner in this crime, but the difference is that she knew what she was doing around a stage, and I was a rookie.
I'm sure I've overlooked somebody. I thank them, too.
WHAT LIES AHEAD?
I think this may depend a bit on how the DVD turns out. My hope is that it conveys the potential of Mornings as a full-length play that can be performed and sung by not just amateurs having fun (nothing wrong with that), but by professionals as well. "No heavier burden than a great potential," Charles Schultz reminded us a few times.
I feel a little like a Gepetto whose Pinocchio has just come to life, after hanging around (literally) as a marionette for a dozen years. It dawned on me during the rehearsing that Mornings was no longer just a wooden book on cords -- it was now moving on its own, no strings attached. I no longer controlled it, not as much as any of the actors who could read their lines. And now it is out there, a hundred and more people have seen it, heard it. Until now, only a dozen or two had read it, and it is a brand new life form on a stage, it really is.
Of course all of the feedback I received was positive -- we were in Polite Canada, after all, and no one is likely to come up after and tell me what a lousy time they had. And of course I am eager to get all the feedback I can. So next time, and the time after that, it gets better and better.
This experience has reminded me that I need to brace some for the criticism that my book will no doubt receive. Books, films, poems, plays, dramatic readings -- none of these are ever universally acclaimed. A SABR convention was a perfect audience to debut Mornings -- most had to appreciate the baseball research that went into it, and the history it contained. Out in the real world, however -- who knows?
Damn Yankees debuted on Broadway in 1955 -- Stephen Douglass played Joe Hardy (Tab Hunter took the film role), with Gwen Verdon as Lola and Ray Walston as Applegate -- and after over a thousand performances, it was part of theater history and our collective baseball vocabulary.
But in Everything Baseball (1989), there are 56 other baseball plays listed and most you have never heard of. So you do the odds.
WAIT'LL NEXT YEAR
Post-season play, I'm pretty sure, came about because fans demanded it. After winning a pennant, division or whatever, the fans are simply having too much fun to just stop, and drift into winter. The Summer Game has always cheated its way into Fall.
Likewise with the Cup O'Coffee Company, perhaps. We did not wait until the morning after to start talking about the next act. We had to much fun to just stop. How many months till Seattle and SABR 36?
I had been toying with doing The Day That Shook Baseball (see NOTES #318), but now I am much more interested in taking those eleven vignettes, editing them, adding to them and improvising on them, and doing a musical comedy review of the B-Sox story. Bye, Bye, Shoeless?
This can be fun for all readers of NOTES, not just the folks who had fun with Mornings After in Toronto. The idea is to take familiar show tunes, music most of us know, and twist the lyrics a little. Then work the songs into the story. I will suggest a couple rules, though -- we will not pass on "cover stories" and the well-known myths about the B-Sox tale, we will base our humor on research. It's not that hard.
For example, take Eddie Cicotte ("Please," quips Kid Gleason). His conscience was conflicted, he must have been in mental anguish trying to decide whether to stay in the Fix. He had that farm to pay off, for the "missus & the kiddies," after all. So we can imagine Eddie singing a tune from My Fair Lady that goes something like this:
All I want is a farm somewhere
Far away from Comiskey's lair --
But do I really dare -- oh, wouldn't it be loverly?
Lots of kiddies for me to feed,
And the missus has lots of needs --
But can I do the deeds? Oh, wouldn't it be loverly?
Buck Weaver will do "If I Were a Snitch Man" (adapted from Fiddler) ... when the gamblers conspire, it will be "Whatever Arnie Wants, Arnie Gets" (from Damn Yankees, which also has a "Shoeless Joe" song that begs to be bent) ... of course, they can pull it off "With a Little Bit of Luck" (another My Fair Lady, which has so many great songs that you are tempted to use them all, and call the review My Foul Lady) ... we can borrow famous lines, too, so when Cicotte asks Comiskey for a raise, the reply is naturally: "You want ... MORE?" (Oliver).
When we started doing these in Toronto, it was (to me) like eating peanuts -- very hard to stop. It seems like almost every musical that came to mind had something to offer. South Pacific (Felsch confesses to Reutlinger September 29, "Happy, Happy Talkin' Happy Talk ... Talk about things you never did") ... West Side Story (I am convinced that "Officer Krupke" can be adapted so it can be sung by the 8MO to "Dear Commish'ner Landis") ... Man of LaMancha (Baseball can't be fixed? Maybe so, but there will be those who "Dream the Impossible Dream") ... Chicago itself has so much material "And All That Jazz" ... Music Man (Hugh Fullerton will lead the group: "We Got Trouble!") ... and we can work backwards, starting with such great lines as "The Swede is a Hard Guy" (so "How Do You Solve a Problem Like Swede Risberg?" -- Sound of Music) and "Say It Ain't So, Joe" (which is already a song title, but too obscure -- I'd set it to something from Cabaret, maybe) ... The King and I has the punchline wrap: "Is a Puzzlement!"
THE REST OF THE CONVENTION
Lest I give the impression that the Company was totally dissipated in Toronto, spending all of our time on Mornings and a little more on After -- let me add that the convention was, to borrow a word, MORE:
First, it was Toronto, which served up Yankee games for those so inclined (de gustibus, etc) ... shopping, sight-seeing and great restaurants galore ... and genuine hospitality, eh? The convention schedule was littered, as expected, with more options than one could opt (concurrent sessions, just to drive nuts those who felt compelled to sample everything, a feeling I am long past). I sat in on a couple gems (Stu Shea has a new book on Wrigley Field that looks good; Bill Marshall captured Dizzy Dean; Norman Debunking Macht is always interesting; and my own talk on Bert Collyer went well, I thought).
SABR Committees meet annually at these events, too, and I usually sample more than I did this time around (just the Deadball Era). The Player Panels are always a highlight, and even though this convention had just two Canadian ballplayers on board, both were very articulate and interesting -- again, you do the odds!
The banquet was tasty (salmon for me) but I didn't stay for the speeches and awards, we just had to rehearse that afternoon. So while I can't compliment the keynoter, I can thank the chef.
For my first SABR conventions (in 1993-94), I was a commuter, and missed a lot that I enjoyed last summer in Cincinnati, where I stayed put (except for games). This time, except for jaunts out with my wife, I was even more glued to the convention activity, save the trivia. And it's more fun each year, because I know more people each new time around. SABRites from SABR-L, from the B-Sox Yahoo group, from NOTES, from past SABR conventions and workshops and Regionals and publications. I almost feel like I could sing, "I've grown accustomed to (SABR's) face." But I don't sing, just play with the tunes and lyrics.
The players were more colorful, drawn from every walk of life. We had stupid guys, smart guys, tough guys, mild guys, crazy guys, college men, slickers from the city, hicks from the country.
Davy Jones was recalling how baseball was in the early 20th century for The Glory of Their Times. But he might have been describing SABR. It's a colorful collection of characters, from all walks of life and political stripes (but no one talks politics). The conventions probably draw the more affluent members (which is too bad, in a sense ... I think there ought to be scholarships, awarded in a competition open to all, so the very best research gets exposed. As it is, I believe even those planning the convention have to pay the fee, which is absurd.)
In any case, Toronto has gone down in history itself. It was worth doing, as Chesterton might say, and it was not done badly. I had a unique vantage point, this time around, and I had a ball. My favorite SABR convention? The next one.