Following in the Footsteps of CD

Tags

A Christmas Carol, American Notes, Boston, Charles Dickens, Dune, Hartford, London, Long Island, New Haven, NYC, Stephen Spielberg, Worcester

Monday was to be a day of travel, with no performing commitments at all as I moved from Worcester to Long Island. I had only stayed at The Beechwood for three nights but it was beginning to feel like a permanent base and I would have to sweep the room a number of times to ensure that I had left nothing behind.

After breakfast (a simple continental which to avoid providing a large buffet table which would encourage people to congregate, the kitchen had plated up selections of pastries, yoghurt, cereal and fruit), I returned to the room, finished writing and began to pack. Because my costumes and props were hanging in the car, the case was a lot lighter than usual, which added to the feeling that I must have left something behind, but I checked and checked and re-checked until I was certain that I had every charger, lead, pen, document, book and magazine, before finally closing up my bags and leaving.

It was a clear but cold morning and I was soon on the road heading south. There was a dusting of snow in the woods and on the fields as I drove which sparkled in the morning sun and gave a very festive feel to the journey. Through the car’s audio system, which I had paired to my phone, I was listening to the audio book recording of Peter Ackroyd’s brilliant biography of the city of London, recorded by fellow Dickens one man performer, Simon Callow. It was strange to listen to, actually, for Ackroyd was responsible for one of the most comprehensive biographies of Charles Dickens and Callow has become the voice of Charles over the years, so it was very difficult to remember that this was not a book about Dickens! However, the story of London is a fascinating one and the miles passed by easily.

As I drove, I pondered my route south, taking me from Worcester to Hartford, New Haven and on to New York, which would take up a little over three hours of my day, and I suddenly realised that I would be travelling in the footsteps, or at least in the rail tracks and wake, of Charles Dickens in 1842 when he made exactly the same journey. He had arrived in Boston after a particularly rough sea crossing from Liverpool, and had spent plenty of time there, visiting the mills of Lowell and meeting lots of friends before preparing to travel. Early in February he set off by railroad from Boston to Worster, which he described in American Notes as being ‘a very pretty New England town’. He stayed in the city with the State Governor for two days, before continuing on the railroad to Springfield.

On my journey my thoughts were less on the beauty of the scenery, but more on the sight that filled my mirror, for it felt like I was being terrorised by a truck, as if I had stepped into Stephen Spielberg’s movie Dune. For a while I had been driving in the company of a huge black Peterbilt truck, the faceless driver of which was being incredibly agressive (not just with me, he was trying to own the entire freeway). In my mirror the two towering exhaust pipes on either side of the cab looked like the horns of a devil (the effect enhanced by the black and red livery), whilst the great square radiator grill, looked as it were opening in preparation to devour my little red car. Every time that traffic contrived to separate us, I breathed a sigh of relief, but in no time I would hear the deep gutteral growl as the diesel engine revved and he swept back by me again.

We left Massachusetts and drove on into Connecticut and soon I could see the unmistakable skyline of Hartford to my right. On Charles Dickens’ journey in February1842 he had left the railroad at Springfield and, as The Connecticut River was relatively free of ice, he would continue to Hartford by water.

‘The captain of a small steamboat was going to make his first trip for the season that day (the second February trip, I believe, within the memory of man), and only waited for us to go on board. Accordingly, we went on board, with as little delay as might be. He was as good as his word, and started directly.

It certainly was not called a small steamboat without reason. I omitted to ask the question, but I should think it must have been of about half a pony power. Mr. Paap, the celebrated Dwarf, might have lived and died happily in the cabin…’

‘I am afraid to tell how many feet short this vessel was, or how many feet narrow: to apply the words length and width to such measurement would be a contradiction in terms. But I may state that we all kept the middle of the deck, lest the boat should unexpectedly tip over.’

In contrast to the lovely clear winter’s day on which I was travelling, Dickens also pointed out that ‘It rained all day as I once thought it never did rain anywhere, but in the Highlands of Scotland.’

Having reached Hartford Charles enjoyed the space of a comfortable hotel and continued towards New York that night by railroad again

I think that, even despite the predatory truck which still stalked me, I was happier in my little cherry red Rogue, than Charles had been on his tiny steam boat!

As I had no particular time agenda, I decided that it might be fun to do a little exploring, and when I saw signs for the town of Wallingford, I decided to leave the main route and see what I could see.

I had chosen this particular town because it bears the same name as a small town close to us in Oxfordshire, and it felt like a nice way to make a connection with home. I found a parking spot outside a small grocery stop close to the railroad which passes through the town, and as I alighted from the car, I was rewarded with that most American of all sounds, the clanging of a crossing bell and the hooting of a train as it approached the crossing, actually two trains, and my senses were assulted as they passed each other.

I walked around the streets of what was obviously a very close-knit community, and eventually found a large and very old cemetery, the notice at the gate informing me that it had been opened circa 1683. I am always fascinated by the stories that a cemetery has to tell and spent quite a while just walking along the rows of old stones, picking out particular family names that spread across generations: relations who had never known each other in life but who were now united in that place.

One thing that I always look for for among grave stones is for someone who shared my birthday, and I almost found it in Wallingford, but on close investigation the date was a day out – the gentleman in question having been born on October 10 1818, whereas I was born on October 9, it was close enough though and imagine my surpise when I stepped back and looked at the family name: Jeralds.

It was getting a bit cold now and I walked back to the car to continue my journey towards New York, passing signs to New Haven, where Dickens had stopped for a night, commenting on the beautiful old Elm Trees that abounded in the city.

As I got closer to New York, entering The Bronx, I hit traffic. Heavy traffic. Stationary traffic. I looked at my phone and managed to find an alternative route, but I was very glad that I did not have a show scheduled for that evening, for I would be beginning to feel very nervous. My new route took me through some elegant neighbourhoods, where Christmas decorations were hung and sacks of leaves were waiting to be taken away, which was a very nice, albeit brief, constrast to the strip malls and factories that line the main routes. Traffic cleared, I motored on and now it was time to leave Charles’ journey, for he had headed into the heart of New York City whereas I turned to the east and follwed signs for the Throgs Neck Bridge which took me onto Long Island, and it was as I crossed the great green suspension bridge that I caught my first glimpse of the Manhatten skyline, almost ghost like as the winter sun was low in the sky behind it. It was an amazing view of an amazing city.

I continued on until I reached my destination, a large Marriott hotel in the town of Uniondale.

On Tuesday I will be performing A Christmas Carol at the nearby Public Library, but during the day I will have the opportunity to explore Long Island and maybe make a literary pilgrimage!

Lupper or Linner?

Tags

A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens, Ebenezer Scrooge, Henry V, Jacob Marley, The Mechanics Hall, Vaillancourt Folk Art, William Shakespeare, Winterthur, Worcester

Sunday would see me perform A Christmas Carol twice more at Vaillancourt Folk Art and, just to keep me on my toes, the times were different to those on Saturday with the metaphoric curtain going up at 12 and 4.

The morning at The Beechwood featured a video call to home, which was particularly lovely, and a chance to catch up with life back in England. When the call was over, I went down to breakfast. Our youngest daughter had told me that they had enjoyed pancakes for breakfast and I had promised that I would order the same for me – oh, the sacrifices I have to make as a parent!

In the restaurant I took a seat by the window and in a short while a very elderly couple made their slow way to the table next to mine. The lady remarked on my sweater (a red Christmas design covered with snowmen), and we fell into a brief conversation – they came from Buffalo, NY, ‘Where,’ they told me, ‘The real snow is!’ We discussed the abilities of various states and countries to deal with snowfall, and then by means of a silent agreement that we had chatted for long enough, turned to our respective breakfasts. It was one of those beautiful moments when you make an unexpected connection for an instant, and the world is a better place for it. When I left the restaurant I wished them safe travels home, and our worlds separated again.

Back in my room, I showered and made preparations for the day ahead, which really only involved grabbing 2 fresh shirts and 2 fresh pairs of socks from my case, as everything else was still hanging in my dressing room in Sutton. I left the room at around 10 and in no time was walking into the Christmas fantasy land of the Vaillancourts.

Firstly, I checked the stage, although I had made sure that everything was in place after the previous night’s performance – this is good theatrical practice, as soon as a show is done to prepare the stage for the next performance and if I am in a venue for multiple events, it is something I always do. Of course, I always also check that everything is exactly as I left it immediately prior to a show. On the current occasion the cloth was draped over the chair, the stool was in its starting position and my hat and scarf were back in the dressing room, all was good to go.

I also took the opportunity to chat a little with Curtis about the head mic which had refused to stay in place during Saturday’s performances, this not only made me feel nervous and uncomfortable, but also effected the sound quality, as the mic unit itself was never in the same place relative to my mouth. He said he had another headpiece in his equipment and we tried that, it was a much tighter fit and felt much more secure. I returned to the dressing room and Gary called in to say hello and also to leave a stack of the souvenir brochures that Ian and I created a few years ago, for me to sign. With no actual post-show signing sessions, venues are taking the opportunity to have me sign plenty of product before the events, so that audience members can still take autographed merchandise home with them. I finished the pile of books and then got into costume, giving myself plenty of time after the previous day’s debacle.

My dressing room is quite large, and at the far end is a small office which is where Gary works during the days. He is tucked away and has no view of the warehouse, so he has a little motion-activated alarm which ends out a series of chimes whenever anyone is approaching. With my penchant for pacing up and down I was constantly setting off this device during my days there, but yesterday as I was sat on a sofa reading my book, the alarm went off and a voice asked if it was ok to come in. There was Anna, Luke’s wife, with their two kids, Nate and Charlie, who are growing up rapidly. We had a lovely chat and took a few photos, before she whisked both boys off to a playpark for the afternoon.

The audience were in now and it was time to begin. For my own state of mind, I had to make this a good show (I was still upset with myself about the day before), and it was. I felt very strong and committed. The new head mic certainly made a difference and the audience were top notch. It was a performance that I was very happy with.

The Q&A went very well, and these are proving to be a very popular part of the show – the feedback from Gary, Judi and all of the staff has been that the audience members have particularly enjoyed the sessions, and although they miss having their books signed, and pictures taken, the opportunity to listen to a few anecdotes and opinions is one they relish.

Having changed I was just hanging my costumes up when Luke poked his head in and told me that an old friend had been in the audience: Ellen Taviano, with whom I have worked for many years at Winterthur in Delaware, wanted to say hi! Sadly, Winterthur had laid off all of their retail staff during the pandemic, and Ellen had found a new position at Old Sturbridge Village which is located not far from Sutton (Ellen had wanted me to perform for here there, but Gary put a VERY firm foot down! Possession is very much nine tenths of the law). It was lovely to catch up and Ellen had been delighted to see the entire show for once, as event organizers always have some issue to contend with and rarely get to sit through a complete performance. I will be returning to Winterthur later on this tour, but it won’t feel the same without Ellen at the helm.

Having said goodbye, I made my way up into the office where another impressive buffet meal had been laid out. I had to ponder what the correct balance was between an energy-restoring meal and over indulging meaning that I would be sluggish at the next performance, and it was while I was struggling to make this decision when a message pinged into my phone – this was from – ok bear with me, it is slightly complicated – Liz’s sister’s sister and brother-in-law’s daughter, who lives in Connecticut and had also been at the show! Fortunately, she was still in the building, and we were able to meet up, masked and distanced to have a completely unexpected reunion. Amy was there with her wife and father-in-law, (all of whom have seen the show before, in another, less than perfect location), and two friends. We chatted about various things, including family news, and all agreed that the venue at Vaillancourts was a much better place to watch the show than the very soulless hotel function room where they had last seen it in their home state.

Amy’s parents have been amazing to Liz and me over the last couple of years and we have had some lovely times on their remote farm which nestles in a Devon valley: we feel very much a part of their family. It was a really nice surprise to see Amy, and hopefully we can all meet up again in England next Summer.

Back to to my lunch/supper (the blending of breakfast and lunch has its own word, so I feel that this meal should have done too: is lunch and supper called ‘Lupper’? or is it not supper, but dinner, in which case it should be ‘Linner’. Anyway, I chose some soup and salad and a pulled pork sandwich. I decided against any dessert in the interests of theatrical mobility. Having said that the dessert on offer was a Pecan Pie and I was amazed when one of the staff pronounced it ‘Pee-Can’, as the British say it, rather than ‘Pi-Carn’, as I had been led to believe is the correct American pronunciation. I commented on this and another member of the team put me straight by telling me what her mother had told her: ‘It is always Pi-Carn, because you pee in a can and you wouldnt want to eat THAT in a pie!’ Fair enough, and now I know!

Back to the dressing room for the 4 o’clock show and another full house of excited audience members filed in and availed themself of the bar service. By this time Gary and Judi had departed to catch their flight to Germany, so it was down to Luke to step into his father’s shoes and make the introductions, which he did with great style. It was another very enjoyable and successful show, with a particularly lively audience. My delight was literally crowned when at the moment that Scrooge flips his top hat into the air as he gets ‘dressed in all of his best’ it landed square and safely on my head earning me a huge cheer!

The final Q&A at Vaillancourts was interesting, with one lady asking what was my favourite line in the show (actually she initially didn’t specify A Christmas Carol, but asked about any show that I had been involved with, but we reigned that in), I settled on a line that doesn’t normally feature in my one act show, and that is when Jacob Marley is tormented by thoughts of his business: ‘Mankind was my business! The common welfare was my business. Charity, mercy, forbearance and benevolence were all my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!’

On reflection now, and in answer to her initial question, I would say that the prologue to Shakespeare’s Henry V ranks among my favorites as it sums up the entire art of the theatre: ‘….a kingdom for a stage, princess to act and monarchs to behold the swelling scene.’ and, ‘…can this cockpit hold the vasty fields of France? Or may we cram within this wooded O the very casques that did affright the air at Agincourt?’, and again, ‘Think when we talk of horses, that you see them printing their proud hooves i’ the receiving earth: for ’tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings, carry them here and there; jumping o’er times, turning the accomplishment of many years into an hour-glass….’

I have not acted in Henry V but I did perform that prologue as an opening to an evening of Shakespeare and music a few years ago. The performance was in a magnificent Church and I made the speech as I walked up the aisle, through the audience with the beautiful language circulating into the high vaulted ceiling. It was very special moment.

Back at Vaillancourts the final question was about Dickens’ own trips to America and specifically to the city of Worcester, which enabled me to tell the story about his reading in The Mechanics Hall when the performance was accompanied by the sounds of cocks (roosters) crowing. The poultry were all caged ready for a sale the following day and had been stored in a second story hall immediately beneath the grand hall where Dickens was performing. When the gas lights on Charles; set were ignited the bright light shone through the floorboards, thereby waking the roosters who announced the apparent dawn with great gusto!

It was a good anecdote to finish with.

And so, my time with the Vaillancourts was over for another year and when I had packed up, I said goodbye to all the staff, and hung my costumes in the car (which can now be their permanent wardrobe), and drove away into the night.

From Massachusetts I will be driving to Long Island and with an entire day to travel I may even get a little time for some sightseeing along the way.

Thank you, Gary, Judi and Luke, it is always a great pleasure to spend time in your company and to perform in such a warm and intimate setting.