As I have already mentioned, pre Carte I was an amateur/semi pro performer around the West Midlands and my performing life was mainly withThe Bilston Operatic Company with whom I played my first roles at the Grand Theatre Wolverhampton. ( It is interesting to note that when the Grand opened on December 10 1894 the inaugural show was Utopia Ltd. by The D'Oyly Cart Opera Company). So after the training came the tour, first stop the Grand Theatre Wolverhampton and the show was 'Yeomen Of The Guard'. Being the 'local-boy-made-good' I was a bit full of myself, but this business has ways of bringing one down to earth again. When we went on for the '...Who fired that shot?' scene the tenors were lined up at the back down the ramp. David Young was on my left and his mouth was level with my left ear. When we had to sing, 'Colonel Fairfax and no other...' all I heard was David singing, 'Colonel Tampax and no other!' I was hysterical and was almost useless for the rest of the act. My real professional training had begun in earnest.

Fairfax's wedding costume newly made for me when I took over the understudy. I saw this costume being modelled very badly on TV shortly before it was put into the dreadful auction of D'Oyly Carte costumes which effectively ensured that the old D'Oyly Carte was consigned to history.

Five weeks later we were on our way to America and a thirteen week tour, which was absolutely marvellous, particularly as I had never even been on a plane before. The experience was mind-blowing for me as I took in all the sights and sounds of the cities of America and Canada we visited. There were a few hairy moments too like the flight we had to take from Philadelphia to Toronto one bleak Winter day. The weather was foul and delayed take-off several hours. Eventually we got going but no matter what the pilot tried he could not get out of the bad weather. Somwhere over the Great Lakes we hit an air pocket which sent us plummeting through several hundred feet. I was sitting near the back of the plane and looking down the length of the fuselage. I saw every drink, ice and all, rise into the air and splash against the luggage racks above. Luckily we pulled out and somehow managed to land very uncomfortably at Toronto. I was sitting next to soprano Frances Gregory who received her drink back over her head. After mopping up she complained that she was feeling terribly uncomfortable. It took about half an hour for her to realise that she was sitting on the ice cubes from her drink which had nestled down behind her. When we were 'deplaning' to use an awful americanism, Jon Ellison told the pilot he didn't think we were going to make it. The pilot said he'd flown that route for twenty years and this was the worst flight of them all. In fact, we found out later, that the same flight a week before had indeed crashed en route killing everyone on board.

Most flights were fine and indeed the only things we had to worry about was taking in too much duty free. On one occasion all the duty free liquor was packed in with the costumes and found by the customs inspector. When he asked why we needed all this booze he was told it was a throat gargle for a very hard working opera company.

Fairfax's first appearance as prisoner dressed in a rather dowdy outfit to suit his mood.

Practically everywhere we played in the States gave us a sumptuous reception during our run there. In New York we were right royally entertained by The University Of Columbia whose Glee Club welcomed us with a rousing Barber Shop welcome. Jimmy Walker, our conductor called us together to make reply, off the cuff as it were. Since we had had no idea this musical reception awaited us we were unprepared but made a bold face of it with 'Hail Poetry' from The Pirates of Penzance. The trouble was, nobody had a pitch pipe to give us our key and someone sang a note comfortable to him and away we went. Pity that that person was a bass as we were all grovelling down in our boots. I presume the effect was not too bad as they let us in anyway, but I think we came second to the Glee Club. However the evening was a joy and we were entertained by the Glee Singers again who were wonderful, displaying great musicianship, comic prowess and a certain amount of terpsichorean talent which was greatly appreciated. An ex member of their group had made a career for himself at the Metropolitan Opera and he sang a Baritone aria, I think it was 'Eri Tu' from 'Un Ballo In Maschera' by Verdi. Then we made reply by performing the whole of 'Trial By Jury' which held it's own in the entertainment stakes. But the icing on the cake was still to come. One of the guests of the University was prevailed upon to sing us a song. To my surprise, a gentleman sitting immediately behind me got to his feet and limped to the stage. It was Martyn Green, and the whole place erupted.

Martyn Green as Koko in 'Mikado'.

This G & S icon sat on a stool and sang - nay performed, 'Tit Willow' from the Mikado. He wove a spell I never though to see with Gilbert and Sullivan (though I have to admit, on his day John Reed could move me to tears in 'Iolanthe' and 'Yeomen'). When he returned to his seat I plucked up the nerve to ask the great man for his autograph which he graciously gave and we exchanged a few words, which strangely, I forget now. I still have the autograph though.

Most of the theatres we played were enormous compared to the ones at home and wing space was sometimes a brisk walk to get to the stage. I think it was in Los Angeles and we were doing Pirates in such a theatre. Christine Palmer was playing Ruth and heard her call for her entrance in the finale Act 1 where she rushes on and sings 'Oh master hear one word I do implore you'. She had just made the wings not realising that there was still about sixty yards to the stage and she could hear her cue coming up. She broke into a run. Now on stage at this point the Pirates and The Girls are doing a dance and leap away in surprise when Ruth comes on. All this happened as per the music cue leaving an empty space where Ruth should have been. From somewhere away in the wings we all heard Ruth shout 'Oh master hear one word I do implore you. Remember Ruth, your Ruth who kneels before you.' On these last words Ruth hurtled onto the stage, sliding on her knees to finish up in front of Frederick. It was a wonderful entrance but one which convulsed us for the rest of the finale. We spent Christmas in Los Angeles and did a matinee performance on Christmas day. Again it was Pirates and most of the company was suffering with Asian Flu. John Reed was away and Howard Williamson had been called from his sick bed to play the Major General. He just made it, collapsing at the end of the show and returning immediately to his bed. The old saying 'The Show Must Go On' seemed very appropriate that day as it was a great strain on everyone to make such a happy show worthwhile for the audience. However, G&S won the battle and the small audience went home to their Christmas celebrations full of the verve, music and pure delight that is Pirates.

In retrospect I realise how lucky I was to have joined the company while players such as Reed and Sandford were there, but I was also privileged to have worked with Donald Adams, Philip Potter and the exquisite Valerie Masterson before they left the company in 1969. Donald was a larger than life personality on stage and a gentleman off it. His characterisations were huge, stylish and almost perfect and I think his Mikado is the yard stick against which all other performances are judged. John Ayldon was groomed as his successor and though not having Donald's stature he made those roles his own by professional application, a wonderful sense of humour and sheer strength of character. Not many performers get near Donald's magnificence though I have seen a few come close and John was one of them. Philip Potter was also a gentleman fair of face who sang with a sweet lyric tenor voice who had only to walk on the stage and smile to have all the females swooning at his feet. A class act. Then there was Valerie. A wonderful, full bodied operatic sound, clear as crystal and a smile to light up several theatres. I loved her work in the Carte but when she made the transition to Grand Opera, as so many had before her, she was sublime. Her Manon and Taviata were world class, and what a nice lady. I once got in her way in the wings of a theatre in New York I think. We had assembled ready to go on for Mikado's entrance while the trio 'Here's A How De Do' was being sung on stage. Of course the D'Oyly Carte productions had encores written in to the action and for this number there were three. As Valerie exited down Left she had to run upstage to make her repeat entrance down the ramp, and I, fool that I was, was standing in her way. She tried to sidestep me and I did the same. She tried the other way and so did I. So, in desperation she hurtled herself at me shoving me aside and just made her entrance. After the trio ended she came off and came to me. I thought I was in for a roasting, but no, the dear lady apologised for having shoved me, leaving me gobsmacked. She was a delight.
Valerie also made several guest appearances after she had left the company most notably as Princess Ida, and during the final season in 1981 as Mabel which I saw from the wings as a guest visitor. I remember another guest artist who brought something special to the company, Sir Charles Mackerras who conducted The Pirates of Penzance and The Mikado during the Centenary season (March-April 1975) at the Savoy. Sir Charles, whose ballet Pineapple Poll is a clever concoction of Sullivan tunes is something of a G&S expert and wanted us to make Pirates more like Verdi after who's style it was written. He brought much of his operatic experience to the performance but he also brought a wicked sense of humour which came out during the finale to Act 1 when we sang the great chorus 'Here's a first rate opportunity'. With his typical panache he jammed his tongue into his cheek and whipped the orchestra into a fierce tempo while smiling up at us daring us to keep up. It was very hard work but we did it and it was the most exhilarating Pirates finale ever heard at the Savoy.

'Oh! You're never satisfied!'' 3d Ghost in Ruddigore.

My favourite Ruddigore stories happened while the Carte were appearing in Dublin some time before I joined them. At the opening of Act 2, set in the picture gallery of Sir Ruthven Murgatroyd a stage hand had been told to check that all the pictures were unfastened for their opening later in the scene. The opening music had begun and had reached a pause when the large picture dominating the scene opened and the stage hand leant out saying, 'Dis one's alroit!' Also later in the scene Rose Maybud is saved from the clutches of Sir Ruthven by Dick Dauntless standing over her and waving the Union Jack over her head, saying, 'Here is a flag that none dare defy, and while this glorious rag floats over Rose Maybud's head, the man does not live who would dare to lay unlicensed hand upon her.' From the audience came, 'Says you!'

I loved America, especially the West, but it was never to be my good fortune to return with the Carte, though the prospect of it was always dangled as a carrot so we would sign our renewed contracts. By 1975 I had tried to progress to principal roles in my own right on three successive occasions only to see Malcolm Williams, Meston Reed and then Geoffrey Shovelton be given the roles over me. To say I was a bit downcast by this would be an understatement even understanding that my position as small part player, chorus and understudy was far more advantageous to the company. It was simpler for them to bring in another principal. In retrospect I think too I probably then didn't have the strength of voice or the image they required of a D'Oyly Carte Principal Tenor, being quite a big chap, most D'Oyly Carte Principal Tenors tended to be slight of build.

It is a matter of some regret now when I think back that while in the States several of the company bought Super 8 movie cameras and had a good time filming ourselves sightseeing. On returning to England I had the idea to make a documentary of life in the Carte with pictures of dressing room life, scenes from the wings, interviews with the stars and staff, etc etc. However when working out the logistics I realised this was a job for the professionals. I did mention this idea to someone in management who said he would pass it on to Freddy Lloyd, but nothing came of it. I only wish now I had tried to do something on my own as those images would be of such interest now. As John Ellison might have said, 'Another opportunity missed!'

One opportunity I didn't miss was to record Trial By Jury by taking a recorder to the flies and suspending the microphone above the performance. It turned out quite well, for a private recording that is. I wished I'd been able to do the same for all the other operas as recorded performances to me are special. They encapsulate actual moments of theatre not found in the recording studio. I have heard several 'pirated' recordings and some of them were really very good considering the secretive method of capturing the recording. I only wish I had been recording the performance of HMS Pinafore at Sadler's Wells Theatre either in the 1969 or 1970 London Season (?) as it would have captured one of the funniest moments to happen to me and the male chorus while I was there. We had got to the point where we were to enter, in two lines from the wings stage left, to sing 'Carefully on tip-toe stealing' when there is a slight moment of quiet. These moments could, on occasion, afford an opportunity for some wag to make his mark, as indeed happened here quite appropriately by Mark Nelson who managed to fill this quiet with the loudest 'botty cough' I have ever heard. In that silence it seemed to rattle the set. As we had to make our entrance immediately after, we all went on convulsed with laughter, trying to sing and failing miserably. Will Cowley who was conducting beckoned for us to give more sound, which convulsed us more. Only Jon Ellison and John Webley were able to sing and even they packed up when it came to the Captain's retort and Dick Deadeye's response, 'Goodness me! Why what was that?', 'Silent be - it was the Cat!'

My size, I am six feet one inch tall and weighed, then, around fifteen and a half stones, sometimes caused an hilarious optical adjustment for the audience. I covered most of the roles played by Colin Wright. Colin was a small, slightly built man, as was the other tenor understudy Barry Clark, who covered my role of Leonard Meryll. Colin was sometimes prone to throat problems and would often leave a show after the first half making me take over for the second half. Most shows, it was funny enough to see Frederick or Nanki Poo suddenly gain several inches in height and fill out quite a bit, but in Yeomen the audience not only saw Fairfax achieve this metaphysical alteration but Leonard Meryll also, losing height and bulk as if he had some lightning wasting disease.
Stepping into a role at short notice can sometimes be very stressful but after a few times it becomes just part of the job. However my good friend Mike Tuckey who joined with me, had taken over the cover of Grosvenor in Patience and had not really had time to learn it properly when he was called upon to step in for Kenneth Sandford. Mike wrote out all his lines and cues on pieces of paper and placed them with people around the stage. This worked well enough for him but the stress led to one of the funniest ad-libs I have ever heard. When he tells the Ladies to remember the fable of the Magnet And The Churn, and they say, 'But we don't know the fable of the Magnet And The Churn', instead of saying 'Then I will sing it to you' Mike said, 'Neither Do I!'

John Reed as Bunthorn selling raffle tickets to Peggy Ann Jones and Pauline Wales while a terribly foppish Ralph Mason looks on. In case you are wondering, I'm top right.

Talking of 'Patience', a wonderful show, I was also on stage the night Peggy Anne Jones made her now infamous slip. As Grosvenor makes his Act 1 finale entrance across the back, standing in a very aesthetic pose centre stage, Lady Angela sang, 'But who is this, whose god-like grace, proclaims he comes from outer space.' This caused us all to heave with silent laughter, as it leads into a sensational final number and Kenneth Sandford had to sing, 'I am a broken hearted Troubadour....' He told me that he hadn't heard Peggy's line and all he could see were a sea of faces all struggling not to laugh. He thought his flies were open! After the curtain came down on the act I have never seen so many people collapse with uproarious laughter. It must have been the effort not to laugh which made it all the funnier. Peggy explained that usually before she sang that line, Donald Adams always whispered 'Outer Space' in her ear. That night he had not done so and therefore she was not focussed on her true line.
I have also forgotten words on stage, who hasn't? But when I couldn't remember practically all the plot concerning The Major General having lied to save his skin John Ayldon, the Pirate King leapt to the rescue with his line, 'We shall collect our band and attack Tremorden Castle this very night.' This, being the conductor's cue to get ready for the 'Away, Away' trio caught him unawares and he nearly fell off his stool in the effort to start the number.
As understudy I had to be ready at a moment's notice to take over from an indisposed Tenor and this happened very regularly, to my good fortune. I was once called upon to play Nanki Poo and the scene where he tries to hang himself because Koko is going to marry Yum Yum almost created D'Oyly history as it nearly caused John Reed to corpse on stage, a thing unheard of. There are two lines reasonably close together which are quite similar and one has to be very aware of them. One is, 'I'll tell you how we'll manage it. Let me marry Yum Yum tomorrow, and in a month you may behead me.' Koko of course refuses saying that he himself is to marry her. Nanki then says, ' My dear fellow, she'll be a widow in a month and you can marry her then'. Unfortunately I got them mixed up and said, 'My dear fellow, she'll be a widow in a month and then you can marry me!' John's face was a picture, but he held it together, unlike me who, with my back to the audience and with shoulders heaving, was convulsed in not very professional laughter.

I suppose my greatest claim to fame happened two years after I had left the company when Bert Newby, the company manager called me one Saturday at around mid-day asking if I would go on as Hilarion in Princess Ida, both mattinee and evening performances. I rushed to Sadlers Wells theatre which luckily was only twenty minutes away and the redoutable Jimmy Marsland took me through it all. The most remarkable thing was that I had never played the role before, merely rehearsed it, but I loved 'Ida' and inside, I knew I knew it. The performances were highly enjoyable to me especially as I later learned there were two people from Wolverhampton in the audience who had seen me work before. Apparently it made their day.

My reason for leaving the Carte and it's highly seductive lifestyle was my inability to progress further than understudy. When I heard of Geoffrey Shovelton being hired to take over from Colin Wright I asked for an interview with Mr Frederick Lloyd the company manager who was a silken tongued businessman to whom I must have seemed a very small fly in the ointment. He tried to tell me I was still in the frame as far as taking over the roles was concerned but when I told him I knew of Geoffrey Shovelton's joining the company he tried to tell me it was not yet certain, and proceeded to try and get me to sign my chorus contract, with a small rise in salary and not to forget that an American tour was being planned as we spoke. I then told him I had been trying to raise my game and needed to make some headway in my career, and that an American tour had been promised for the last seven years, to which his response was, 'Well, all I can say is, if you've got a job to go to, you'd better go to it.' And that was that. As luck would have it I was able to audition for the English National Opera and was offered a chorus position there, for a lot more money! This still didn't stop Mr Lloyd from calling on my services when needed. When neither Colin Wright nor Ralph Mason were available I stepped in to sing at the funeral of Sir John Ellerman, of the Ellerman Shipping Lines, a close friend of Miss Carte. I sang 'Is Life A Boon', one of Sir John's favourites and Lady Ellerman was gracious in her praise. When I had to sing Hilarion, two years after I left the company Mr Lloyd jokingly called me 'Crisis Cresswell' as I was the one they seemed to be able to count on when they were in a fix. It was a lovely day being back in the bosom of the Carte even though I was then in the English National Opera Company and beginning to embark on a concert and Opera career which endures to this day.

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