The Great American Songbook at the Goodspeed Opera House
Building an opera house in Manaus, Brazil, 2,000 miles up the Amazon, in 1892 was crackers. Less crackers, but nuts nonetheless, was the decision to build Goodspeed Opera House in East Haddam, ten miles up the Connecticut River in 1876. Within easy steamer reach of its intended New York audience, a mere seven-hour thrash up Long Island Sound, then a quick left turn, it was bound to flourish. Oh, yes! And back again. Made for a big day out.
The original intention was that Goodspeed Opera House should first feature plays. But, it would be future-proofed by calling it an opera house. What was wrong with Broadway? Were East Haddamites trying to forestall the Metropolitan Opera which was not established in Manhattan until 1883? Performing spaces were sprouting everywhere in New York. There was a Bronx Opera House, A Royal Bronx, and The Metropolis, all flourishing at the beginning of the 20th century.
Apparently, one-up East Haddam needed to burnish its cultural credentials. Locals still talk of little else at the well patronised Pattaconk 1850 Bar.
Projects like Goodspeed are always the product of Elon Musk types, insanely driven folk. Step up local big deal businessman, William Henry Goodspeed – there’s a clue! – who never actually got round to operas, but opened with the play, Charles II. Great choice for Connecticut, a state at the heart of the Revolutionary War. At least it wasn’t George III.
Goodspeed shuffled off this mortal coil in 1882. Sans Goodspeed his opera house in turn shuffled into oblivion. Used sequentially as a military establishment, a general store and then a transport storage facility, the Addams Family look-alike property, with a commanding view over the community from its vantage point above the Goodspeeds Landing Bridge, crumbled.
The building still dominated the community. It had to be saved. In 1959 Goodspeed musicals was formed, the opera house was re-dedicated in 1963 and has since played off-Broadway musicals to packed houses.
To visit is to step back in time. The auditorium is, curiously, located inconveniently on the second and third floors. I was told by the bartender that often scenery being winched up from trucks below ended up in the Connecticut River. “East Haddam musical makes big splash!” The headline writes itself.
On the ground floor friendly local docents – all volunteers – check tickets in a haphazard way. A panelled bar beckons, leading to a narrow balcony where a pre-opera or interval drink can be enjoyed, while surveying the still tidal river and bridge below. The atmosphere is completely informal.
Goodspeed has gained a reputation for being the birthplace of Broadway hits. Nineteen productions have gone on downriver to New York fame, twelve have won Tony (named after actress Antoinette Perry) awards. In an interval conversation with a local regular I was told that I was standing in the birthplace of Annie, Man of Lamancha and Shenandoah. Incredible.
On this pleasant August evening the comedy Summer Stock was on offer, a play on the term describing summer productions of rural theatre companies. The idea is to try the new stuff out in the boondocks in the hope they will transfer to Broadway. This was a musical about how that works. Or doesn’t!
The good news was Summer Stock had borrowed from the Great American Songbook. Let me rephrase that. Pillaged, plundered and pirated would be more accurate. Not a great composer’s stone left unturned.
Based on the original MGM film of the same name, the additional lyrics were by Cheri Steinkellner, a Los Angeles writer best known for working on the TV series Cheers. There were twenty-two scenes in two acts and clarity was at a premium. Steinkeller wrote directly and meshed the lyrics of the songs deftly with the plot.
And, those songs – one per scene – ranging across the likes of It Had to be You, Me and My Shadow, and You, Wonderful You, took up twenty-two long credits on the programme.
Great choreography – fabulous tap dancing, especially – was delivered by two Dance Captains.
The plot hardly mattered. For the record, it was a familiar trope about a farm run by decent folk being at risk of foreclosure from more ritzy neighbours – who were not decent folk. One of the daughters of the decent farmer was wanting to put on a Broadway show. The other was a regular, dungaree-clad, Annie-get-your-pitchfork sort of gal.
The ritzy widow, determined to foreclose on our decent farmer, has a goofy son who is encouraged to rebel against his mum and fancies Ms Pitchfork something rotten.
The Broadway wannabees decide to mount their performance in a decent farmer’s barn. It felt like a subconscious Goodspeed metaphor. All you, dear reader, need to know is that it all ends well. Goof gets Pitchfork, the farm is saved, and Summer Stock draws the crowds. This was an evening of pure entertainment.
Although Summer Stock is unlikely to find its way to Broadway anytime soon, it was delightful, professionally delivered in an opera house with its own story to tell that is more than worth a journey. I left having experienced a real sense of involvement in American musical legend.
And another thing!
More provincial US news – this time from Iowa. A newspaper, the Southeast Iowa Union (compulsory reading), reminds me Frederica von Stade, the renowned American mezzo-soprano who debuted at the New York Met in 1970 – I’ve still got the cassette tapes – continues on manoeuvres.
Despite giving up the opera stage in 2010 she is giving a concert performance in Fairfield, Iowa. A hop, skip, five states and a river away from Goodspeed Opera House.
On 16 September she is performing a charity concert for the Maharishi School, which she credits with helping her through her 78 years – so far. Clearly, since I Iast encountered her, she has been on a journey.
“Flicka” was one of the last global-sensation opera divas. It was wonderful to be reminded she is still plying her talents. Sadly, Fairfield, Iowa does not fit into the Reaction opera calendar.
It got me thinking. Where are the divas of today? I was told by a director at Glimmerglass that none of today’s generation of top-notch up-and-coming singers can afford the luxury of diva posturing. Too many quality singers chasing too few parts.
The petulant power of the diva is no more. Abandon airs and graces – and do what the director says. Don’t try that on Flicka. Only non-flouncers get parts. A bit of a loss for diva-adoring audiences.
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