Audience member stepping in to save the show

laughing

still laughing

laughing some more

[hijack]

His wikipedia entry says he trained as a baritone but later his voice changed to a tenor - how often does *that *happen? What could cause an adult man’s voice to go up in pitch? Or was he a misplaced tenor all along?

[/hijack]

Back to sports, on May 18, 1912, the Detroit Tigers players went on strike to protest the suspension of Ty Cobb (Cobb had gone into the stands to beat up a crippled man – and the players supported Cobb*).

The Tigers were in Philadelphia for a game and the team recruited eight players from local sandlots. They lost the game 24-2; only one of the replacement players made it back to the majors, and that was for a single at bat. The New York Times Account indicates the players were pulled from the stands, but I’ve heard it that the actual players were picked prior to the game.

The Tigers called off their strike when threatened with a lifetime suspension, with Cobb’s blessing.

*Accounts at the time indicated that the man had made some comment about Cobb’s mother – probably something to do with race – and Cobb, a mother’s boy, racist, and psychotic went after him, but his teammates said he was justified and that the fan had crossed the line.

In 2003, soprano Lisa Daltirus stepped into the lead of a program of excerpts from Aida with five minutes’ notice–she was sitting in the audience when the lead soprano fell ill.

http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/thearts/2004182276_tosca17.html

From Wiki

I believe he was a member of the orchestra, so not an audience member but still in the spirit of the op.

Looks like she’s saved the day for big productions more than once-- if not literally being called up from the audience every single time. Neat article.

Cellist, IIRC.

Quick response to a hijack - yes, it happens fairly often, esp. since the Baritone who would sing stuff like ‘Carmina Burana’ has to have a high ‘A’, and Gs to burn, and an extended ‘falsetto’.

There are quite a few roles in the operatic and operetta rep. that are done by either lower Tenors or higher baritones, to wit, Peleas in Peleas et Melisande, Danilo in Merry Widow, Eisenstein in Die Fledermaus and lots of others. Most Baritones I know have gone through some kind of phase where someone hears that they may be a tenor, esp. if they sing those kind of roles ‘too easily’…

As to why a singer may go up in voice type late in life, sometimes it’s a question of the voice finding its natural placement later, sometimes it’s a question of a change in technique that allows the voice to blossom to where it always belonged.

Sometimes, it doesn’t work out - if you’re forcing your voice to sing higher than it wants to go, you can mess things up, badly. Many people want to be tenors because tenors make more money and get the lion’s share of the fame, but if the voice won’t sing that high naturally (or at least, naturally with some training!), there’s nothing to be done to force it.

To bring it back to the Original Thread, there’s a lovely passage in Michael Ondaatje’s ‘In the Skin of a Lion’, where he comments on the immigrant communities of Toronto going to the theatre as often as they can to improve their English. One night a performance of ‘Hamlet’ is finished off by a Polish fellow who has seen the show 30 + times. Almost undoubtedly not a true story, but a beautiful passage none the less.

Hi. My name is fachverwirrt and I’m confused about my Fach.

Not so much anymore, but I indeed went through several incarnations of “are you sure you’re not a tenor?” before I finally convinced everyone otherwise.

My teacher’s exploration of my potential tenorness actually helped my baritone voice to blossom; it opened up the bottom as no previous study had managed to do, which clinched the point. My bottom had always been a little pinched and underpowered, but when it loosened up with intensive top work (head work, in particular), I suddenly started sounding like a baritone. I still get the occasional comment on it, as it seems that people can’t reconcile the idea of a baritone with clear and easy high notes.

And the Carmina Burana baritone part is indeed ludicrously high. It actually tops out at a B, which is often done falsetto, but doesn’t have to be. I actually managed to pull off a mezza-voce but full sound on that one (alright, I’m boasting. I get to do that every once in a while, right?).

Wow! I owe you a bottle of Pinot Noir! I’ve done the piece a few times, but I’ve had no desire to take ‘Dies, nox et omnia’ in natural voice. I’m not even sure I could any more. I figure if I get through ‘Estuans interius’ and my trousers are still dry, I’ve earned my pay.

Fach works well for some, and not so well for others. I remember trying to explain to a German conductor that I’d done Papageno in Flute, Wozzeck in Wozzeck, and the Music Teacher in Ariadne. I think it made his brain hurt. At different times, I’ve been diagnosed as a Bass, a Baritone and a Tenor. I’ve settled at Baritone, and as I get older the top notes are a little harder, but also a little more sturdy sounding. I’m hoping to hold out until I turn into a Buffo, and then the fun starts…

Heh. The last five years doing university productions have included:
Andrew Borden (Lizzie Borden): bass-baritone
Orgon (Tartuffe): bass
Elder Ott (Susannah): baritone
Doctor (A Month in the Country (Lee Hoiby)): Tenor
Slim (Of Mice and Men): baritone

Much of that is due to the director’s notorious tendency to typecast: I’m short and stout, so I tend to get the comic roles, and in two of those operas there’s a romantic lyric baritone role that went to the tall, skinny tenor (this year the romantic lyric baritone role went to the tall skinny baritone). Still, a confusing resume. It certainly doesn’t help my case when I insist that I really am a baritone (although I can at least point to the bass roles and say “See! Not a tenor!”).

A possibly untrue story I heard about Richard Harris:

He was in a play in the West End where his character did not appear on stage until about twenty minutes in. One day, he left the afternoon rehersal & went to the pub to calm his nerves where he befriended a woman. They both got very drunk & he found two theatre tickets in his pocket, so asked her if she would like to accompany him to see a play. They both sat in the audience & about ten minutes into the play he stood up, shouted “Fuck me, I’m in this play” and ran backstage to find his understudy in costume. He took to the stage anyway and gave a perfect performance despite (or perhaps because of) being blind drunk.