The Roaring Twenties and "My Glorious Life" volume 2 part 1

Volume 2 

Its all about that Bass or A Tenor all singers above 

"A Tenor all singers above ,it does not admit to a question. 

Shall keep himself quiet ,attend to his diet, 

and carefully nurse his digestion"

Utopia Ltd. Capt Fixbattleaxe Act 2

 I have always held true to this advice, when performing or speaking in a public forum. Some critics have noted I am not a true tenore ,but a French Baritone. Just rubbish. Call it what you will, the Gilbert and Sullivan patter repertoire can be all over the scale. One must have a fair range and excellent diction to truly give the roles there due. I will be not caught sing speaking or whatever that may be. Mr Sullivan would turn in his grave at such antics. 

But to the point of the story,

One especially grueling summer tour of the US in 1929, our little band of Savoyards, had landed in the backwater town of Orlando, Florida.  A hurricane was thought to be nearing Miami, and all agreed a few days further inland would be best. I agreed most heartily, as such weather was uncommon in Plancovania and none of us knew what to expect.

As we commandeered the only decent accommodations in town, rooms had to be shared. I was not accustomed to such primitive lodgings and this was the last straw. The prospect of sharing a room with our Bass-Baritone, was most inconvenient as well as an intrusion. I certainly could not entertain wealthy patrons or conduct voice lessons to up and coming young men, with him sitting around in his skivvies.

The Florida tour was all about Pirates, no big surprise there. I never cared for his interpretation of the role of the Pirate King. Not bold enough for my taste. I need a strong foil while I play the Major otherwise the first act finale ,"He is is an Orphan Boy", falls flat. 

Rumor had it, that he was disgruntled after the last Peepsburg Theater Awards , as I was nominated yet again and won, while he was looked over.

In any case, I needed some time away from the buffoon. Luckily, I received a note from my dear old friend and co founder of Rose Lake Park , Professor JP Marvel. He had temporarily relocated to Orlando to expand his Millenary business, using rare Floridian Bird plumage. Fine feathers were plentiful and the workforce accustomed to long hours with little pay.

The Chlamydia Sisters with JP Marvel's new line of feathered apparel 

The professor suggested a Everglades fishing expedition that afternoon. He assured be the biting insects would be minimal this time of year. I seriously doubted that, but agreed to accompany him. We had not been on the water, but a moment, when a large alligator leapt from the glade and tried to devour us. As Marvel panicked, I jumped into the water to wrestle the beast into unconsciousness before binding him and getting him in the Airboat.

The "Maid of the Marsh"

 

My first though was this fellow would make a lovely belt and matching shoes, but the shear beauty and majesty of this beast was well apparent and I thought we must take him to Rose Lake to be displayed in a habitat. As there really was not a suitable place for him, I began to draw up plans for the New Rose Lake Zoo on a luncheon napkin.

The professor suggested we return to his estate, Sweaty Palms, to clean up and refresh ourselves after the afternoons ordeal. A small gathering was already in progress with the Men's Olympic swimming team , as they would use his private pool for practices and small exhibitions and some large ones. I certainly could not turn down the invitation and disappoint any young fans who might find my presence a small treat.  

The Olympic Men's Swim Team

We arrived at the Estate, mid afternoon supper already laid out ,filled with local fresh fruit.. the mangos weren't bad either..

In any case after perusing the many tasty treats, I declined as the ordeal had quite taken my appetite. Temping as it was to overindulge with the fruits, I knew it would make me lethargic if I was asked later to perform that night. I encouraged the Professor and Team to enjoy the repast as I retired to the Guest Suite.

The suite was poolside, so I though relaxing in a chaise might be just the thing. I ventured in the wardrobe for a change of clothes to rid myself of the swamp damp. All I found was a bathing suit, reluctantly I put it on. Still fairly fit, but not the young buck I had been, I was very self conscious about my appearance in swim attire. 

Back home, Fishington would scoff at my thoughts of inequity, but we had been special best friends for so long a that point, it did not seem to matter to him. As much confidence as I had on stage, in his presence it was always a different story. His calming nature was always a welcome respite and on tour, I missed it greatly.

I made my way poolside, as the brutal Floridian sun was disappearing behind a storm cloud. It made the pool water murky and dark. The creepiness factor was very apparent and it was against my better judgement. 

That was my first mistake.

The second was not wearing my eyeglasses

The third was coming to Florida in the first place.

I called it "resting my eyes ", you may call it what you will, I was NOT sleeping. I am very sensitive to sounds. The slightest odd noise would often wake me from a much needed sleep. In any case, the slight splashing of the pool water against its tile edge was almost hypnotic, lulling me into a hazy stupor. So when it's rhythm ever so slightly changed, my senses were alerted. After the Crocodile episode earlier, I was especially wary. I slowly opened my left eye. Without my spectacles, things were blurry up close at best. My nearsightedness could be problematic sometimes, the cloudy weather not helping in the least. 

That's when I saw it. The slender head poking out from the dark pool water. It's tiny eye watching me, not blinking. Never one to panic, unless the situation called for it, I quickly formed a plan in my head to rid yet another hungry reptile from this earth. I had no weapons, but my bare hands again, having left my sword in its scabbard at the hotel.

If I grabbed it by it neck, I could easily subdue this serpent without it inflicting a possible fatal bite. It was a scenario not unknown to myself, having wrestled with snakes in my past, only to have it shoot out its viscid white poison onto my hand. 

The move had to be swift and spot on. The slightest deviance from the target would prove to be unfortunate. And I still had many performances to finish on this tour. Our stage manger would not approve. BUT as they say, I "went for it" and in a flash jumped from my chaise and grabbed what I thought was the offending animal.

Poisonous Water Moccasin Snake

Much to my surprise, and Trevor from the Men's Olympic swim Team, this was not a snake. 

Trevor Captain of the Swim Team

Trevor began to struggle and ingest far too much water and so began to choke. I then proceeded to drag him from the water to perform artificial respiration. Having been taught the proper technique from my highly skilled associate, Dr Fishington.  He had performed on numerous persons over a long period of time and was quite the expert. A local doctor felt his technique was lacking in its placement of the tongue, but the results were always quite satisfactory.

The proper method of resuscitation by J. Fishington

Trevor soon regained consciousness as his screams and struggles brought out his teammates and the Professor. Everyone was obviously preparing for bed, as the gentleman were in various stages of undress. The professor was able to assess the situation and declare Trevor would be fit to compete after a short rest period.  He would take him to his private suite for further evaluation. 

Although not a medical doctor , the Professor had dabbled in the Veterinary profession and was quite fond of wild animals. Trevor, while obviously a well endowed human, had a lot in common with aquatic swimming species. The professor then, was the correct man for the job. This would also come in handy when we opened the Rose Lake Zoo and needed an expert in animal husbandry on hand. 

 

After all this, and my clothes now were somewhat dried, I bid the Professor and his crew adieu. A car was sent for me to return to the Hotel and the  Bass -Baritone. When I offhandedly told him of my afternoon , he scoffed and refused to believe it. Dear me, that is so like the unenlightened. Just because it did not happen to you, doesn't mean it didn't happen. Pity the fellow whos life is so mundane and has no adventures.

Continued in part 2

The Major General's return to Rose Lake