GILBERT AND SULLIVAN AND DANNY KAYE As you know, we lost showman Danny Kaye March 3d [1987]. He will be sorely missed, not only as a fine performer, but as an all- around humanitarian. Everyone knows of him and his work, and nearly everyone has loved it, needless to say. One aspect of his career is that is not so well known is his connection with G&S. While he apparently never performed in any of the operas, he made quite an unusual contribution to the G&S world, with the help of his wife Sylvia Fine-Kaye. In the 1950's, he came out with a Decca recording "Gilbert and Sullivan and Danny Kaye," in which he sings several of the best known G&S patter songs. About half are sung straight, and the other half are, for lack of a better word, 'interesting.' Martyn Green mentions them in his autobiography "Here's a How-de-do," and talks about how he had not yet heard them, and how they were unavailable in England. He goes on to describe a meeting with Danny Kaye, and tells his how much he'd like to hear the record- ings. Danny Kaye replies: "YOU want a set. Why, you're the one person I would hate to have a set." "But I'm told they were extremely good." I said. "And very funny." "Yes." said Danny, "maybe--but they're not Gilbert and Sullivan. You know, I like Gilbert and Sullivan; I love singing it. I always wanted to make some records of some of them. Then I start in all good faith to sing it properly and then something goes haywire inside me; I go haywire--and the words go haywire." His wife helped him with the haywiring--she wrote some updated lyrics to the songs, to make them more meaningful (their words) to modern audiences. I don't know that I agree that the words are more meaningful, but they are clever. In the recording, he gives fairly traditional renditions of "The Judge's Song" from TBJ, "The Defendant's Song," "The Duke of Plaza_Toro's Song," and "My Name is John Wellington Wells" as well as a distinctive rendition of "When I was a Lad," which sounded (to this observer anyway) as if poor Sir Joseph had had a few more rum(s) below than was wise. And then there are the updated lyrics. For those of us who haven't heard the recording, those lyrics go somewhat thuswise: (From "When a Felon's Not Engaged in His Employment") When the drunkard shows no signs of where the drink went, He nobly bids all alcohol farewell. When the juvenile delinquent to the clink went, He hung his mother's picture in his cell. When the cardsharp's finished wipin' out his brother, He buys a rattle for his little son. Taking one consideration with another, A policeman's lot is not a happy one! (From "If You're Anxious for to Shine..." from Patience) Any subject controversial, economic or commercial, you must treat with lifted brow, Let the hoi polloi get bilious, keep the manner supercilious of a slightly sacred cow. If with courage Carthaginian you just offer no opinion, you'll be hailed as a man of sense; Endeavor to be clever and commit yourself forever to a firm stand on defense. And everyone will say as you go your silent way, "Since this young man doesn't open his mouth, and nothing wrong says he, Why, what a most infallibly right young man this right young man must be!" (He does a unique ballad rendition of "The Sun whose Rays...") The sun whose rays are all ablaze with ever-lasting glory Does not deny his majesty, he scorns to tell a story, And sees his flame, that placid dame, the moon's celestial highness; There's not a trace upon her face of diffidence or shyness. So in my love for you, I am not shy: We hold our hearts up high, the moon and I. (And then there's the nightmare part of the Lord Chancellor's "Nightmare") For you dream you are ill, having swallowed a pill that was made out of ossified onyx, And the doctor, you found, he is trav'ling around on a subway that's bound for the Brony-x. Oh, you must find him fast--as the hours go past you're convinced that you're headed for tragedy, For you saw him on Sunday, felt much worse on Monday, and here it's the following Saturday. You're full of suspicion, that trav'ling physician, he fed you some stuff with a barb in it, So you dash to the street while you frantically eat a souf- fle made of sodium bicarbonate. To a druggist you rush, but he gives you the brush, saying, "Who let this ass mad-a-gaspar in?" Though you plead with the villain you need penicillin, he won't even give you an aspirin! Then a pill on the shelf leaps down by itself and it lands on your head like a lead post. You suddenly awake, and no wonder you ache: you've been hitting yourself with the bedpost! Gilbert they are not, but the lyrics are still interesting. On his television program, Danny Kaye paid another tribute to G&S, and delivered the following, based on the careers of the part- ners. Us purists may raise our eyebrows at the historical accuracy, but the fact that he sang it at all is noteworthy. If he can pay such a tribute to G&S, us remaining G&S enthusiasts can return that compliment to Danny Kaye by remembering it. Once, long ago, before Lerner and Lowe; before Porter, or Gershwin, or Rogers, Most of the tunes with the "moons" and the "Junes" were composed by two old English codgers. Now, both were by nature irascible, merely passible as friends, But as a team they were gassable, they were music's living ends; Their names were Gilbert and Sullivan, Gilbert and Sullivan, those years of polyglot fun and folly not dreary or dull-ivan. They wrote a clever and biting brand of opulent operetta, And if they weren't the model of a modern music writing team, at least they were prolific and a most amusing fighting team. Gilbert and Sullivan, Gilbert and Sullivan; at times neurot- ic, but most melodic, and so lyric-ullivan! It seems a shame they had to fight with hammer and tongs, but boy! they left of legend of happy songs! - * - * - * - * - Now William Gilbert was a man with rhymes and a lyrical man was he; He loved to criticize [hems?] and times, a satirical man was he. Now Arthur Sullivan, man of music, made up melodies the world adored: Songs like "Onward Christian Soldiers," and don't forget the great "Lost Chord". A producer, Richard D'Oyly Carte, had a very exciting scheme: how commercial, how divine, how smart if these fellas became a team! Now both are gentlemen, both are witty, both are talented, and both are well-known, Tempremental, independent, both declared they'd rather write alone. Gilbert and Sullivan, Gilbert and Sullivan, they eyed each other and signed, "Oh, brother! He's out of his skull- ivan!" They couldn't happily hope to have a hearty collaboration, When Gilbert said, "It's open war!" and Sullivan thought Gilbert was a crashing bore. But Gilbert and Sullivan, Gilbert and Sullivan, were quite ironically, musicomically, compatible-livan; They buried both their hatchets where a hatchet belongs, and hammered out a heaven of happy songs! - * - * - * - * - Gilbert and Sullivan, Gilbert and Sullivan, they stopped hostilities, used abilities, without any lull-ivan So if you're making enemies, start righting your wrong, It's enough to make you turn about, there's lots of life to learn about, If you make friends spasmodically, start living more melodi- cally, And just like Gilbert and Sullivan: Make a world of wonder- ful song! [This article appeared in Issue 11 (May 1987) of Precious Non- sense, the newsletter of the Midwestern Gilbert & Sullivan Society. Posted by permission of Sarah Cole, Society Secre- tary/Archivist. For information on Society membership write to: The Midwestern Gilbert & Sullivan Society, c/o Miss Sarah Cole, 613 W. State St., North Aurora, IL 60542-1538.]