In 1967 I came to Canada, a country I love. I made some extra cash as a rock band photographer and often shot at the Gasworks pub on Yonge Street in downtown Toronto. On one occasion when shooting a band,
Everyday People, I met Ollie Claffey having a Guinness at one of the tables. That would have been around 1977. Ollie is an Englishman but with Irish roots and I am an Englishman with Welsh roots so we had an affinity, which later developed into a strong friendship, especially as we both wrote songs and had a similar sense of humour. Ollie combined our names to come up with an entity which we thought might result in royalties down the road,
Claffins Valley Music.
We composed a quite a few songs together, flavoured often by the kind of English music from our early youth: the
Beatles, Freddie and the Dreamers, Herman’s Hermits, Gerry and the Pacemakers and many of the seminal bands from the 60s and 70s. When the intriguing story idea came to me a few years later, it percolated in my brain and gradually developed into a musical story, incorporating some of our original songs and adding more as the plot required. Ollie is the type of guy to whom I could give a new poem and he would weave a melody around it. He had a rich upbringing in the field of entertainment, often playing gigs with his father, learning accordion as well as banjo and guitar. His taste in music became wide and varied and I know that the melodies and arrangements for our songs benefitted from those early seeds.
Through a business associate, who played drums and had a basement studio, we began seriously recording the songs from the musical with a motley bunch of musicians and did a fairly impressive job. Later on in Ollie’s basement he and I recorded some additional songs — just the two of us and a cassette tape recorder. Eventually the play was finished and I planned to see what I could do to get it published and on stage.
Neither of those projects had I the slightest experience in.
As it was a Cockney rock musical I sent it to about six London impresarios and received six polite rejections. I tried some Toronto people, one who thought it naive and of no interest to a Canadian audience, while the Royal Alexandra Theatre management said, 'Good luck, but we don‘t produce new material.’ I actually got it to Anthony Newley who was staying at the Royal York Hotel while in a Toronto show — he said I was wasting my time. Then, a business associate, involved with a new theatre company starting its opening season, decided it was good enough to stage and offered to put it on with three other shows at the old Ritz Theatre at Vaughan and St. Clair.
I was excited. I would have to raise some money though. I started off with two trusting people, Joanne who gave me $2,000 and Stan with $500. However, the first show, an avant garde production of
Moby Dick lasted only a week and the company disappeared — with my money. I never got my investment back. I wish I could find Joanne Abrahams and Stan Thompson to return their money.
So, I shoved the story into a manila envelope, sealed it and reluctantly shelved
Metamorphorically Speakin’, getting on with life, my business and a family.
In 2001 my youngest daughter Esther attended Wexford Collegiate in Scarborough, well-known for its excellent theatrical curriculum. She became very involved and enamoured with that part of her education. One evening in 2003, I drove her to an audition for
Oliver, a musical presentation put on by the Scarborough Music Theatre. On the way over, she must have thoughtfully summarized my character for she said, ‘You know, Dad, there’s a role in
Oliver called # — you should try for it. You’re old, you’re Jewish, and you’re a Cockney.’
Ahem.
I pondered this colourful description. Well, indeed I was all those things, although 62 is stretching the age a bit. I did audition for # and although I didn’t get the part I did land the substantial role of Mr. Bumble the Beadle. It was a wonderful experience and I was smitten with the stage, though if my daughter had it right I’d be for ever destined to play a 60-year-old man with a long nose. However, due to building my business it was four years before I auditioned again and then landed three roles in
Miracle on 34th Street put on by Scarborough Players in 2007; I became the Drunk Santa Claus, Mr. Gimble a New York businessman, and Justice Harper to whom I gave an American-Irish character with a strong Irish brogue. It, too, was a wonderful experience.
As with most amateur or community theatres, one becomes close to the other performers and crew. And this was no exception. One evening, a few weeks after the play had closed, Elaine, John, Olivia, Heather and Michael came over to my house and I casually mentioned the story. At their request I read it and played a few of the songs. They were very impressed, felt that the story and the music were excellent, and it was good enough to stage. We thought that one day it could be done.
In early 2008, Esther graduated from The Randolph Academy for the Performing Arts in Toronto and began appearing in a number of good shows around town. The day she graduated, I asked, “Well, Esther, what now?”
“Broadway, Dad. One day I’ll be on Broadway.”
Hmm. I inwardly thought, how many have said the same thing and spent years waiting — waiting in restaurants and waiting for the right role in a business that breaks many hearts? Then, I thought, “Who am I to think like that?” I guess it was a father’s protective concern, knowing that heartache that can come from such dreams. But the thought came to me: “Well, what about my play? What if I was to do it here, and she could be in it? In fact, be the star?” My dream and hers — sounds a bit romantic and melodramatic perhaps, but on reflection that’s what we both are.
So, I took the manila envelope down from the shelf, dusted it off and contacted my
Miracle on 34th Street friends. They still believed. And so began the journey of bringing
Metamorphorically Speakin’ to the stage. Along the way I met Jason Grills, an accomplished musician who arranged and recorded our music from 25-year old cassette tapes, those having been copied a zillion times and Jason was able to bring out the potential within the original music.
Many roadblocks and disappointments came along, some real zingers — just after I decided to stage it, in 2008 I was diagnosed with cancer and given two years to live. That was 2 years 3 months ago. I’m still here. On May 27th of this year I was given one year to live. Well, guess what, I have other plans so that will definitely have to wait.
Metamorphorically Speakin’ opens at The Annex Theatre in Toronto, September 23rd, 2010. When you come to the musical look for a Pearly King named Fred in the market scene. He sings “Me Farver Sold Fishes in the Old Kent Road.” He’s about 68 now, does have a fairly long nose, and speaks with a Cockney accent. Er, that will be me. I’ll still be here. Make sure you say “’allo mate!” after the show. Website and how to get tickets:
metamorphoricallyspeakin.com
It was 30 years ago that I wrote it. I sincerely believe it will eventually be the biggest musical since
My Fair Lady.
I never gave up. Dreams only fail when you do.
Michael is a freelance writer in Toronto.
What is that? The title of my musical which is being staged in Toronto on this September 23, 24, 25, 26.
That is some title, I agree. An intriguing idea that flitted into my brain in the mid-1980s, floated around for a while and developed into a story. I’d always penned something over the years — a story here, a song and a poem there, with photography up there among my creative activities. None ever developed into a career although I did win an award for photography, I did and still do write a monthly feature for a newspaper, and I earned some cash for some poems, photographs and an album cover. 
