I was going to title this entry "Three Stage Shows and a funeral" and then
discovered that I wrote that very entry on March 12 in 2012, when the
funeral was for my mother's stepson, Fred Rynders. And
actually in 2017, you have to discount the show that wasn't, the night I wandered
around the cemetery looking for the show that won't be presented until next
month, so it's really only Two Stage Shows and a Funeral. But
it does seem that after 6,600 journal entries, I seem to be living my life
in circles!
Today we said good bye to a great man. If the impact a person has on
the world is indicated by the number of people who attend his memorial
service, John Vlahos was indeed a great man.
It was a beautiful day for a memorial. The sky was blue and clear and
this is that rare time of year, which lasts so briefly, when the hills
everywhere you look are carpeted in a beautiful green.
The service was held at Mira Vista Country Club, high in the hills
overlooking San Francisco bay.
When we arrived, there was a long stream of cars entering the club grounds
and all of the parking areas were already full. Walt let me off and he
parked outside, down a steep hill, a couple of blocks away. (He was picked
up by someone in a golf cart who drove him to the clubhouse).
There was a long line outside the clubhouse, waiting to file in.
All the chairs were already taken and people were starting to sit at tables
on the side of the big room.
By the time the service started there were probably twice as many people as
are shown in this photo.
John had been an attorney and comments were given by a couple of his
partners and long time friends. One of his sons gave a wonderful
eulogy that was both funny and touching.
A large group of Lamplighters performed songs that John had performed in his
days performing with the company (after which he went on to be Chairman of
the Board for 30 years or so), including a song rewritten especially for him
for the very last time he was able to get to the theater (Music by Sullivan,
lyrics by Barbara Heroux).
They ended their set with a beautiful song, "If these shadows have
offended," which combines Gilbert & Sullivan and Shakespeare, that has
become a Lamplighter standard (but which is copyrighted and can't --
and shouldn't) be linked here, and the finale,
"Hail Poetry," which left not a
dry eye in the house. I've decided that every memorial service should
end with "Hail Poetry."
After it was a madhouse of people trying to just move but it was more
congested than a New York subway at rush hour. I met Judy N, who has
been reading this journal, I was surprised to learn, for many, many years
and was determined to check behind potted palms to find me. We had a
lovely chat until I had the first back pain I've had since I started the
cream and I had to go find a chair to sit down (when the pain left, it
left and I am still relatively pain free for several days now!)
I had a chance to visit with several of our friends and as I looked around
that crowd, I got all verklempt thinking of how many very good friends have
come from the Lamplighters, how much I love this company, and, sadly, how
many memorial services we have attended over the years (we have another
coming up in June). Now we are getting old, grey, and doddering. Some
are now housebound and were unable to attend today. At least 3 of us
that I saw had canes. Bill Neil sat down next to me with a heavy sigh
and said "It's really hard to get old...." I pointed out that we were
the same age, and agreed with him.
My father told me, when I was a kid, that Gilbert & Sullivan was the worst
music in the world (that was before rock and roll came around, which
replaced it) and I never would have learned of the Lamplighters without
Walt, who brought me to my first shows. The rest, as they say, is
history. 60 years of history with us and the Lamplighters. How
very different my life would have been if I had never gone to that first
HMS Pinafore (not even my favorite).
I felt surrounded by love today as we all joined together with attorneys and
judges and who knows what other groups, to celebrate John's life and to
acknowledge what a very special person he was.
History repeats itself. Co-founder of the company, and the man at its
heart for more than 60 years, Orva Hoskinson, died last week, at age 92,
during a run of Patience, the show for which he is perhaps best
known. His famous depiction of Reginald Bunthorne, "the fleshly poet,"
was once compared by San Francisco Chronicle critic Robert Commanday
to John Gielgud's Hamlet ("There was Gielgud's Hamlet, and there is
Hoskinson's Bunthorne.")
The
production had been dedicated to Orva, but at the curtain speech, Ewing not
only talked about Orva's death and what he had meant to the company, he also
announced the death of John Vlahos, who had been the company president for
more than 30 years, performed with the company for many years, and even met
his wife in the company. He was an all around good guy and I mourn his
loss as well.