No tickets were pre-arranged for our second night in the city and I wasn’t keen on facing the crowds of the theatre district.  We decided that the more intimate setting of Feinstein’s at the Loews Regency on Park Avenue was a welcome contrast – the place probably seats no more than 50 people (smaller than I actually expected).  Appearing there was Betty Buckley (“Betty Lynn” as we Texans know her) in a show titled ”The Other Woman:  The Vixens of Broadway.”

At the Barclays, Barbra (age 70) was not in good voice and she acknowledged such right away, and yet she managed her vocal limitations remarkably well.  There was never a pitch problem to be had (as usual), some judicious restraint on the top notes and a beautiful chest voice.

And gosh does she put on a great show.  It ran for almost three hours with one intermission.  Guest artists were the Italian teen trio Il Volo, trumpeter Chris Botti, and her son, Jason Emanuel Gould.  He joined his mom in a duet (“How Deep Is the Ocean”), and then took full command of the stage for one solo.  There was also a full orchestra and a children’s chorus at the end. The string of finales were my favorite:  ”People,” “Make Our Garden Grow” (from “Candide”), “Some Other Time” (from “On The Town”) and “Happy Days.”  (I sang along to most of these. Nobody complained.)

Hitting lots of the peaks from her long, long career, she gave us “The Way We Were” (part of a tribute to the late Marvin Hamlisch), “The Way He Makes Me Feel” (from Yentl), and “Evergreen” (from A Star is Born).   Plus some of what’s still to come, with a couple of numbers from “Gypsy,” a film project that seems to finally be happening.  Yes, Barbra as Mama Rose.

Much was made of this being Barbra’s return to Brooklyn.  She remarked that it was her first solo performance there since on the stoop of her childhood home (does anybody remember the name of the street?).  The opening number was a very Brooklyn-heavy adaptation of “As If I Never Said Good-bye” (from Sunset Boulevard) and to open the second half, a similar treatment of “You’re the Top” (“You’re Junior’s cheesecake, you’re the best knish, etc.etc.).

Speaking of back to Brooklyn, the Prospect Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn was actually my home turf for about seven years and it was stunning to see the transformation that’s really just beginning there thanks to the new Barclays.  And here’s another change.  Every single member of the staff, as well as the subway personal in the massively expanded Atlantic Avenue station was friendly and smiling.  This is Brooklyn?!

I won’t claim to have ever been a real Brooklynite.  The borough chewed me up and spit me out. (That’s another story).  But I am a fifth generation Texan and I grew up knowing a lot about Betty Buckley.  During our dinner at Feinstein’s I explained to Doug’s mother and brother (he’s already heard it all), how Betty’s dad and my stepdad were colleagues, how she’s Betty Lynn and her mom is Betty Bob, and how I’ve met her a few times over the years (including in one terrible interview almost 10 years ago).  So during the show when she referred to Texas, her mom “Betty Bob,” and such, everyone at our table turned to me, nodded and smiled.

Anyway, Betty sounded great and her selections were wonderful.  The show focuses on songs given to the supporting or “featured” actress in Broadway musicals.  Love, jilted love, tough lessons, etc. were the themes in “I Cain’t Say No” (Oklahoma), “Another Suitcase in Another Hall” (Evita), “I Know Things Now” (Into the Woods), and others.

If I’ve had a complaint about the times I’ve seen Betty in the past, it was there her line-up of songs was a little too diffuse, a bit of Broadway here, a spiritual there, James Taylor every time.  But “The OtherWoman” was put together by the same team that did Betty’s successful program from last year, which gave her songs written for Broadway’s men.  It got great reviews and was recently released on disc.  Her music director/arranger/pianist is Christian Jacob, the musical consultant Eric Stern and writer Eric Kornfeld.  And in “The Other Woman,” they had one contribution all their own, “But Play the Other Woman,” a hilarious montage/spoof of songs that allowed Betty a comic riff on her theme song “Memory” (from Cats).

It certainly seems to have worked.  Some unscientific observation combined with occasional eavesdropping showed healthy-sized crowds of locals sprinkled with opera buffs and industry professionals from around the country.

A well packed schedule isn’t enough though.  Quality performances and interesting programming are essential and on these fronts FWO is also succeeding.  At each performance, the musical execution from cast and orchestra was very good to excellent, while sets and costumes were substantial and fresh.  Plus, two out of the three operas – Heggie’s “Three Decembers” and Adamo’s “Lysistrata” – were less than 10 years old.

Starting with the traditional, Friday May 25 was the season’s third performance of “Tosca.” (Not seen was a fourth opera in this year’s festival, Mozart’s “Marriage of Figaro.”)  Music director Joe Illick conducted a meaty and driving orchestra in support of a fine cast, including soprano Carter Scott in the title role, baritone Michael Chioldi as Scarpia, and tenor Roger Honeywell as Cavaradossi.  The violent murder and reverent aftermath in Act Two were appropriately riveting and chilling but the ecclesiastical parade in Act One also lingers in memory.  Beneath an elaborate set, some 35 feet tall, processed a chorus of 30 adults and 15 children, plus 22 supernumeraries serving as villagers, clerics, even the pope.

It’s interesting trivia that both of the contemporary pieces (seen on Saturday May 26) were premiered by the Houston Grand Opera.  That company, of course, has a long and distinguished track record of birthing new works, but seems to have lost steam in recent years.

Other than being of recent Texas vintage and set in English, the operas might seem to have little in common.  “Lysistrata” is a comedy of mythic origin and grand in scale.  It’s based on Aristophanes’ battle of the sexes amidst the male fixation on war.  By contrast, “Three Decembers” is familial, poignant and intimate.  It’s about two adult American children confronting their aging and distant mother, who’s an aloof Broadway actress. The source is a play by Terrance McNally.

Seeing these shows back to back in the same day leads to still more thoughts of their contrasts and similarities.

Adamo’s opera is about two and a half hours long yet almost devoid of set pieces. Minutes into the first act there’s a fart in the brass and the orchestral score remains fragmented and grinding.  Most of the umpteen gags though are in the composer’s original libretto, which is too clever by half.  It’s heavy on dialogue, lists and silly accents and also overstuffed with alliteration.  Though replete with rhymes it’s sadly short of poetry.

Heggie’s “Three Decembers” is 90 minutes of pure lyricism. An offstage chamber ensemble baths the whole in long smooth lines.  There’s also a lot of conversation, some on cell phones, but each of the three characters is given space and scenes to plumb their emotional depths.  Gene Scheer’s libretto betrays the story’s roots in straight play and is sprinkled with profanities.

Despite these different terrains, the effect of each opera was largely the same – minimal.  Neither drew this listener into their respective musical universe nor struck home emotionally on any consistent basis.  I had one, maybe two, spontaneous laughs during the whole of “Lysistrata.”  In “Three Decembers,” the gay son’s grief after his partner died of AIDS was unexpectedly touching.  But the family fights, profane laugh lines and final apotheosis of the diva mom all left me cold.

The audiences in Fort Worth, though, seemed to eat up both shows.  There were guffaws aplenty in “Lysistrata” and audible sniffles at the conclusion of “Three Decembers.”

Nevertheless, it’s hard to imagine productions that could make the case for the two operas any more persuasively than the FWO’s admirable efforts.  In “Lysistrata,” soprano Ava Pine was on top of her game as Lysia, and was even at her best in the finale, when the libretto peters out into a bunch of stammering syllables.  Other fine supporting cast members were tenor Scott Scully, mezzos Meaghan Deiter and Alissa Anderson, and baritone Michael Mayes.  Conductor Illick kept the orchestra rolling.  The colorful set was a combination of scaffolding, columns and trompe l’oeil statuary.

There’s a bit more to quibble about in “Three Decembers.”  Sopranos Janice Hall and Emily Pulley looked more like sisters than mother and daughter and Hall’s voice had an inconsistent tone and a few pitch problems.  Baritone Matthew Worth started out sounding very operatic with a throaty, overly rounded tone, but eventually settled into delivering the vernacular text with a convincing American accent.  The offstage ensemble was screechy during the angular interludes and one longed for a bigger sound during the swelling emotional climaxes.  The sets by Bob Lavallee were chic and surprisingly lavish.  And by the way, the opera was performed with no supertitles, a nice statement of confidence in the ability of the singers to be understood, which they were.

Speaking of confidence, the programming of “Lysistrata” and “Three Decembers” is evidence of Darren K. Woods, FWO’s general director, having confidence in his audience and the local community. And here I’m not talking about the ability of listeners to just accept some new works, but rather to handle the subject matters.  I once heard, I think it was on PBS, an editor at the Fort Worth Star-Telegram say that Tarrant County was the country’s most conservative after Orange County, California.  Yet you wouldn’t know it from the work of the Fort Worth Opera.  In 2008 they produced “Angels in America,” and two years later premiered “Before Night Falls.” Like both of these pieces, “Three Decembers” overtly addresses homosexuality and AIDS. And for all of the silliness in “Lysistrata,” it contains a fair bit of explicit eroticism.  During the whole of Act II, the soldiers were literally hard up.

Taken as a whole, the whirlwind weekend of opera in Cowtown was a good ride and served as further confirmation that the Fort Worth Opera is the Texas troupe with a buzz.

Fort Worth Opera Festival 2012
Puccini:  “Tosca,” Bass Hall, May 25
Heggie:  “Three Decembers,” Scott Theater, May 26, 2012
Adamo:  “Lysistrata,” Bass Hall, May 26, 2012

Previously on MyBigGayEars:

Opera review: Before Night Falls, Fort Worth Opera

Queer Opera in Cowtown

There she blows: Jake Heggie’s “Moby Dick”

Darren K. Woods, Administrative star and “turn around master”

I’ll never look at paper dolls the same again.  That’s because I recently befriended the greatest living creator of the art form, 83-year old Tom Tierney.

Now I certainly didn’t go looking to chat up a paper doll artist, which made the whole experience all the more special.  Here’s the story…

My boyfriend Doug and I were driving from Houston to Austin last Sunday, and stopped in the little town of Smithville, population c. 4,456.  We’d been told it was the best place to browse antique shops while en route.  Junk stores is more what Doug considered them.  But it was a typically warm and sunny Texas day and Smithville’s Main Street was clean and well preserved.  (“Tree of Life” is one of the many films made there.)  A nice break in the drive.  One lady shop keeper was particularly friendly and said to be sure to check the little store around the corner, which she described as “more European.”  We didn’t know if that meant better quality or more gay.  But it was just steps away.

As soon as we entered, the gentlemanly old proprietor offered us freshly brewed coffee.  It was a tiny shop and we didn’t plan to stay long, and so we politely declined.  But the other friendly older man in the shop, seated and smiling, soon started chatting us up.  Where are you from, what do you do, etc.  And he was as generous with information about himself as he was inquiring about us.  He had a shop over on Main Street where he sold his line of paper dolls, though the place was closed on Sunday.

Actually, the same friend who recommended we stop in Smithville for the antiques also mentioned the paper doll shop.  At the time that really went in one ear and out the other, but there in front of us was the paper doll man himself, Tom Tierney.  He was irresistibly good natured and full of stories, starting with how Liz Smith, the gossip columnist and native Texan, once recommended his work on television, talking about how on a recent visit to the White House she showed his book of Clinton paper dolls to Hillary, who remarked that he got them just about right, underwear and all.  “That was pretty great publicity and I just happened to catch it on TV,” he recounted with some understated pride.  When I inquired about the extent of his work, he said that the Clinton paper dolls are one of over 500 books of paper dolls that he’s produced over the years.

After hearing that it didn’t take much to persuade Tom to open up the shop to give us a look see.  Soon we were strolling half a block down the gravel alley and being escorted through the back entrance.  He actually lives in the rear of the shop (zoning restrictions aren’t too strict in Smithville, he said), and so on the way in we saw some of his large paintings hanging in the private space.

The shop is officially named Shangri-la Emporium and includes sundry tchotchkes and a rather sizable array of Hindu statues.  But the heart of the business is the large display of paper doll books.

Tom Tierney’s background as a fashion illustrator and years of accomplishments with paper dolls are well known, at least to those who follow such things.  Once I laid eyes on the colorful merchandise, I realized I’d glanced past them countless times in souvenir and gift shops over the years.

Although only a portion of his life’s work was on display here in Smithville, it was darned impressive.  Soon he was showing us the William and Kate paper dolls, the Obama paper dolls, the vampire paper dolls (with Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise and the whole “Twilight” crew), and the fashion designer paper dolls, including runway looks by Dior, Chanel and McQueen. And on and on and on.

Somehow Tom knew to hand me a couple of the more gay-themed paper dolls, which I ended up purchasing.   “Life’s a Drag!” is subtitled “a campy salute to the cross-dressing stars of film and television” and features Milton Berle, Jerry Lewis, Julie Andrews (“Victor Victoria”), Dustin Hoffman (“Tootsie”), Barbra Streisand (“Yentl”), Robin Williams (“Mrs. Doubtfire”), Nathan Lane (“The Birdcage”), and John Travolta (“Hairspray”), among others.   A more risque publication is “Attitude: An Adult Paperdoll Book,” which is structured like a Greenwich Village cocktail party c. 1979. First we meet our hostess, Auntie Mary (“She’s load of fun,” reads the brief deadpan narrative), and then all her charming friends, including leather queens and muscle queens, some rough trade and cute little twinks, plus more than a few tired old queens. Every one of these books has the same formate: a figure on the left in their skivvies with their choice attire on the right, ready for cutting out and playing dress-up.

Before we knew it, we were following Tom up the back staircase and into his studio where we got to see scores of original illustrations, some published and some not.  Where the “Attitude” book was suggestive, there’s also a large and unpublished body of Tom Tierney work that’s more overt but still meticulous and beautiful.  Tennessee Williams, James Dean, Andy Warhol and Rock Hudson are just some of the figures from gay history that Tom’s depicted with his same careful hand and loving eye – and, mind you, without their skivvies.

Throughout all of this show and tell, Tom recounted one terrific story after another from his decades in New York through to his recent semi-retirement back home to Texas.  (Just one example:  Tennessee Williams was a friend of a friend and Tom ended up making them breakfast on Saturday mornings while they met to work on a project.) But time was running short and Doug and I were expected in Austin.  And so we had to hit the road, but only after getting our purchases autographed by Tom, sharing hugs and promising to stay in touch.

The hour or so in Smithville, sandwiched as it was in between a pleasant weekend with friends in Houston and a few days of family obligations in Austin, turned out to be a highlight of our trip.  And it wouldn’t have happened if we’d not taken those few steps off the Main Street of Smithville and if we’d not been open to a conversation with a friendly old fellow.  Really, it’s anyone’s guess where you’ll find a new friend or a slice of vibrant queer culture.

The only camera I had on hand was in my phone, but I couldn’t resist snapping a few things…

Tom was quiet a looker in his youth, as shown in these photos by Richard Avedon:

Many of Tom’s stories involved getting an approval or a blessing from those who’s images he rendered in paper doll form.  This is a detail of an autographed Erte poster:

With my new friend Tom:

Arenas died of AIDS in 1990 at age 47 and the epidemic still seems potent material for musical exploration.  Just two years ago the Fort Worth Opera mounted the operatic version of “Angels in America.”   But AIDS is almost a minor topic in the new three hour-long work.  Freedom — artistic and sexual — is the more dominate theme.

From his bed Arenas pleads for his two muses, played by sopranos in glittery ball gowns and beehive hairdos, to take him back to his youth.  Soon he’s cavorting on the beaches of Cuba and we follow his entanglement in revolutionary politics, pursuit of love and companionship, and achievement of international fame with the overseas publication of his visionary writing.

The young baritone Wes Mason played Arenas with remarkable vocal stamina and  physical dexterity to give a vivid portrait of the character’s playful creativity and steely constitution.  The singing quality of the mostly young supporting cast, though, was very uneven.   Bass-baritone Seth Mease Carico played the revolutionary officer Victor with terrific strength and clarity and Jesus Garcia, as a fellow writer, was suitable though a bit anonymous.  Tenor Jonathan Blalock, as one of Arenas’s lovers, sang with a reedy, disembodied voice and soprano Janice Hall’s one scene as the mother was just unpleasant.   A hearty chorus of about 30 was dispatched as a militant band in the first half and disco revelers near the end.

The Manhattan and Cuban locales were evoked by projections on various scrims, which after a while gave the production a weightless, floating quality.  Riccardo Hernandez was credited with scenic design and Peter Nigrini with projections.  Maybe they intended their imagery to foreshadow Arenas’ troubled life, but the beach scenes always had a heavily clouded sky and overly bluish cast.   The stage of Bass Hall also just felt too big for the piece, with many performers exiting with long dashes into the wings.  The two all male dance numbers by choreographer John de los Santos were acrobatic, choppy, and rigid, while the narrative and Martin’s lush scoring called for sensuality and seduction.

There’s plenty of Latin dance rhythms throughout and overall the opera’s pacing is quick with lots of short scenes that keep things moving. Martin’s orchestration is traditional but sometimes daringly light and understated.  Some pivotal choruses and ensembles were performed a capella.

The composer made his own libretto with assistance from Dolores M. Koch, who was a translator of Arenas’ writings.  Too often they have the characters announcing their feelings rather then trusting the music to communicate the emotions.  But in a rare accomplishment, almost every word is intelligible — a testament to both the singers and Martin’s skill at setting text.  The supertitles, by the way, provided the English lyrics as well as a Spanish translation.

A beautiful tune comes in the first act when Arenas and a lover sing, “Oh, our unhappy island, when will your troubles be done?”  Near the end of the show, the emotional and political themes come together in the line: “My death notice came not from a tyrant but from my lovers.”

The opera itself seems bolder in its handling of gay content than does the production by director David Gately.  When Arenas applies for sanctuary in the U.S., he’s harshly questioned about his sexuality — even asked by an official if he’s a top or a bottom and ordered to swish about to prove he’s a fag.  (As if his hip huggers and loud flowered shirt weren’t enough.) It was an awkward and painful moment to watch but not unbelievable either.

So why did the Fort Worth audience laugh?  There was nothing particularly campy or clownish in Mason’s movement and his face communicated shame.  Giving the audience the benefit of the doubt, perhaps it was a collective discomfort that came out as a chuckle.

Such powerful material in the libretto and score only highlighted the contrast to the staging, which played it safe with gay sensuality.  There were only two male-to-male kisses in the entire production. Both were pecks on Arena’s forehead, more motherly than passionate. And then there were those stiff dance numbers, with the men knocking against each other almost like football players.

Fort Worth Texas might be the most conservative area of the country after Orange County California.

Seven people were arrested for drunkenness, though numerous reports say that the individuals were pulled from the crowd randomly and violently.  A 26-year old man was hospitalized with head injuries.

The event occurred on the 40th anniversary of the Stonewall Riots in New York.

Reports from Dallas Voice on the arrests and the ensuing investigations and protests:  7/1/09, 7/16/09, 8/7/09, 8/20/09, 10/30/09, 12/30/09

Meanwhile…

The one of the city’s premiere arts organizations, the Fort Worth Opera is gay, gay, gay.

And that’s not a redundancy. Just look at what they’re putting on stage.

In 2008 FWO presented the first full American staging of the operatic version of Tony Kushner’s landmark “Angels in America,” composed by Peter Eotvos.  A concurrent series of events throughout the Dallas-Fort Worth area was titled: “More Life: The Art & Science of AIDS.”

Ava Pine and David Adam Moore, Fort Worth Opera

And on Saturday night the Fort Worth Opera presents the world premiere of Jorge Martin’s “Before Night Falls,” based on the autobiography of Reinaldo Arenas. The gay Cuban writer died of AIDS in 1990 at age 47.  His memoir was published in English in 1993. A 2000 film version was directed by Julian Schnabel and starred Javier Bardem, who was nominated for an Academy Award.

Here’s composer Jorge Martin – a gay Cuban American who lives in Vermont – talking about writing an opera about a gay Cuban:

Other coverage:  Opera News: “Long Night of the Soul” by Adam Wasserman.

Synposis, biographies, background in FWO’s newsletter “Libretto”

“Before Night Falls” runs for two performances (May 29, June 6) in repertoire with the Fort Worth Opera’s other 2010 productions, “Don Giovani” (May 30, June 4) and “The Elixir of Love” (May 28, June 5).  Look for a review on this site after the June 6 performance.

Wes Mason as Reinaldo Arenas, Fort Worth Opera

Previously on MyBigGayEars:
Darren K. Woods, Administrative star and “turn around master”

The massive scale and varied themes of Melville’s classic novel have flummoxed many who’ve tried their hands at creative adaptations.  But Gene Schere’s libretto telescopes the drama to a handful of characters and the opera is a pretty good show, thanks especially to the work of director Leonard Foglia and scenic designer Robert Brill.

Most memorable are the projections which feature stars, maps and compasses, various views of ships large and small, plus lots and lots of water. We never see the whale.  Ropes and metal scaffolding often fill the proscenium and a few too many arias and duets are delivered from precarious heights above the stage as the singers grab tight to the ironwork, holding on for their lives.  The back wall slopes downward into the main playing area like a giant slide.  When ships crash, supernumeraries spill down it as if splashing into the water.

For much of the first act, which runs almost two hours, Heggie’s score surges like the sea with constant rhythmic life.  The music is always pleasant and tuneful and has some imaginative orchestral touches, such as the sound of whale’s spout created by a trumpet blown without a mouthpiece. The second act begins with a lively sea chanty.  But over all the opera floates on a shallow ocean.  There’s never much undercurrent to the orchestral writing nor much counterpoint to be found, even in the vocal parts despite plenty of ensemble numbers.

Star tenor Ben Hepner in the lead role of Captain Ahab deserves credit just for managing that peg leg.  He’s a hulking authoritative presence with a knitted brow, but certainly not any kind of menacing embodiment of evil. One wonders if he’d command so much stage attention if he wasn’t spotlighted all the time.  Musically the role has lots of melismatic lines, which Hepner sings with a rather unvaried mezzo-forte dynamic, until one hushed and arresting duet. That comes midway through the second act with baritone Morgan Smith, who has an attractive emotional and dynamic range and is the best of the supporting cast.

The other characters, always in Ahab’s orbit, are officers and sailors and one cabin boy played with style by the sole female in the cast, soprano Talise Travigne. The cast also includes bass Jonathan Lemalu as Queequeg, a quasi-shamanic figure, and tenor Stephen Costello as the introspective and troubled Greenhorn.  They all get a little stir crazy and seemingly every aria and scene ends with religious exhortation. The all-male environment, combined with the regular references to Christian values, makes the Pequod feel like a monastery on the water.

The large orchestra was conducted by Patrick Summer and played with surety and ease.  The acoustics of the 2,200-seat Winspear Opera House are proving to be a curious, however.  From a seat near the rear of the orchestral level, the sound of the instrumental ensemble seemed capped and distance.  Snatching seats on the fifth row after intermission solved that problem. But most of the theatrical tricks in “Moby Dick” came in the first half and a few too many introspective arias made the second act slow and disappointing, even if Ahab did finally spot that big white whale.

Following recommendations of friends, he spent that summer in the young artists program at the Seagle Music Colony outside the little Adirondack village of Schroon Lake in Essex County about 90 miles north of Albany.  Founded in 1915 by renowned baritone Oscar Seagle, the colony has offered generations of young singers a haven to study and grow before venturing on to professional careers.  It’s transformed Darren Woods’ life at least a couple of times now.

Woods did go on to a respectable singing career, performing with the New York City Opera and numerous other companies. But it was the role of J. Pierrepont Finch, the deft wheeler dealer in “How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying,” which he played during that one summer at the Seagle Colony, that really pointed to how Woods would ultimately make his mark in the operatic world.

First, in 1996 Woods returned to Schroon Lake to take a one-season appointment as general director of the Colony. He has remained its guiding force ever since and is widely credited with transforming an organization that was on the brink of closure.

Next, in 1999, Woods ended his performing career to become head of the Shreveport Opera in Louisiana. In a tenure of just 24 months he also saved that outfit from near extension.  And as general director of the Fort Worth Opera since July 2001, Woods has again brought vigor to a company once written off as provincial and moribund.  In a profile of Woods in its July issue, Opera News Magazine referred to his “national presence” and called him a “turnaround master.”

In addition to his duties in Fort Worth, Woods regularly gives master classes at universities across the country and frequently serves as a judge of auditions for the Metropolitan Opera National Council, the Richard Tucker Foundation, and other organizations. But he still summers at the Seagle Colony, where he now holds the title of artistic director. We spoke recently over coffee in Sarataga Springs.

“Opera is in me to the corps of my being,” he says. “I’m a servant to the art form.”

Such lofty language might suggest that Woods is working from some lyric libretto and longs to be back on stage. But his pronouncements are given with a sincere and matter of fact tone and spill out of him as fast as a Rossini overture.  Whether its identifying and encouraging good singers, knowing the vast operatic repertoire, or finessing rich folks out of their money, Woods seems always on his game.  His respective companies are the beneficiaries.

The year he took the reigns of the Seagle Colony, it gave three staged productions over five weeks, and operated on a budget of roughly $30,000.  This year, there are six productions, a nine-week season and a budget of nearly $575,000.

One of Woods’ first outreach efforts for Seagle was to churches — offering free music on Sunday mornings. “Mr. Seagle belonged to the Community Church and we provided soloists there since time immemorial,” explains Woods. “I thought, well why not sing in the Catholic Church too? I walked over and there were like a 1,000 people, while the Community Church had about 40. Soon the priest was announcing our performance schedule.  Now we sing at so many churches, everywhere from Putnam to Keene Valley, we can only provide (each congregation) about two Sundays per season.”

Education was Woods’ first focus in Shreveport. “I dreamed up a program to take opera to little kids in the sticks where there were no arts,” he recalls. “I made up a study guide and a brochure and we got literally $300,000 worth of bookings. So then I hired three singers and a director and we had the ‘Piped Piper’ and ‘Little Red Ridinghood’ and did everything I had laid out in the brochure. And it underwrote the mainstage productions.”

Though the job in Louisiana paid considerably less than he had been making as a singer, Woods thought the experience could serve as the equivalent to a masters degree in arts management. By the time Fort Worth came calling, he had developed considerable confidence.

“I went through a four-hour interview and was blatantly honest about what I knew of the company. The quality was in the tank,” he says. He went back to Shreveport thinking that was that.

Some six weeks later, in the midst of a summer at Seagle, he got a call back. This time, he spoke not just of impressions but gave assessments based on research.  “I said your repertoire here is old school and boring and if all you want to do is the top 20 operas just send me home now. You’ve not done Handel or Britten or anything 20th century except ‘Turnadot’ and that hardly counts. Plus you can’t afford the season you planned.”

In addition to the tough talk, he also passed around copies of a five-year plan.  And he got the job.

Woods has countless stories, both amusing and horrific, about rebuilding the board and the nearly 24-hour charm offensive it takes to raise enough funds to keep an opera company in the black.  But his results speak for themselves. He’s grown the company from a $2 million budget to the current level of about $4.5 million.

In 2007, with support from the local chamber of commerce, the Fort Worth Opera abandoned its traditional spring and fall seasons and concentrated its efforts into a compacted two-week “festival season.”  This past May, the lineup featured Bizet’s “Carmen,” Rossini’s “La Cenerentola” and “Dead Man Walking,” an acclaimed 2000 adaptation by Jack Heggie of the Pulitzer Prize-winning book by Sr. Helen Prejean about counseling a death row inmate.

After the season concluded, Scott Cantrell of the Dallas Morning News (former staff writer for the Times Union and a notoriously tough critic), wrote, “Fort Worth Opera has become one of the country’s premier opera festivals. No kidding… Give the credit to Darren K. Woods, who eight years ago took over the fragmented mess that was Fort Worth Opera.”

The recent Opera News article about Woods went further and voiced something that others in the field also foresee:  that in the coming years, Woods will likely be heading up one of the country’s major opera houses, such as Seattle, San Francisco or Houston.

While not dismissing the talk, Woods puts it as only a singer could: “There are some high notes I’ve still not hit.”

Yet he assured me that his connection to the Seagle Colony will endure.  With its centennial coming up in six years, some in Schroon Lake are talking of building a new theater.  Woods wants to build an endowment that will keep the program’s focus on young singers. And as the saying goes, he’s put his money where his (very active) mouth is. “This place is in my will,” he says.

A version of this story originally appeared in the Times Union.

     Our fathers were common and safer ground. Both engineers, they were colleagues in Texas many years ago. They both also withheld praise and were indifferent to the artistic accomplishments of their children.

     At the beginning of our interview, I told Buckley that I, like she, grew up in Fort Worth, and that our folks knew one another. I also mentioned that when she was on Broadway starring in “Cats” in the 1980s and “Sunset Boulevard” in the ’90s, I went backstage after the performances and introduced myself.

     Then we turned to the reason for our chat, the Williamstown Theatre Festival’s production of “The Threepenny Opera,” in which she co-stars with an impressive cast that includes Jesse L. Martin, of TV’s “Law & Order.” As part of a question, I described her character, Jenny, as an “aging prostitute.”

     That was too much for her.

     By referring that way to Jenny, a role created by the German chanteuse Lotte Lenya, she thought I was pointing out how she herself was getting on in years. I hadn’t meant any such thing, but that was her interpretation.

     Later, as we talked about the misunderstandings, she suggested I write that the interview got off to a “bumpy” start. Very well, then: The interview got off to a bumpy start.

     A change of scenery helped. We walked together down the immaculate sidewalks of historic Williamstown in the early evening. I mentioned the one time I remember her parents being at my childhood home, for some engineers’ function that my parents hosted. She was starring in the TV show “Eight is Enough,” which featured kids who were about the same age I was at the time. I recalled her father not thinking much of the contemporary subject matter the show dealt with.

     And that began our commiserating about fathers. Even when Buckley had reached the top level of American theater, her dad wouldn’t attend the Tony Awards. Later, over finger food at a nearby restaurant, she talked about his death from lung cancer about 13 years ago, and how she, her mother and younger brothers kept a six-day vigil by his bed.

     She tried to comfort him with the South Dakota folk songs he had once taught her. But even in his weakened state, she said, he tried to shush her famous voice.

     Prior to his death, her father attempted a reconciliation with at least one child. “He did apologize to my brother” for their difficulties, she said.

     Buckley continued, “Right after his death I went home and started looking for the letter that he had to have written to me.” When she explained to her mother that she was searching for the documentation of her father’s love and acceptance, her mom replied, “There’s no letter, Betty Lynn.”

     Texas and horses are what Buckley most wants to talk about these days. Last year, she bought a 6-year-old gray cutting horse named Purple Badger. She’s started competing with him (“cutting” refers to how the horse separates a calf from its herd) and has already won some prize money, $850 at one event in April.

     “That’s about what I got for a night of `Elegies’ at Lincoln Center Theatre,” she said, referring to a revue by composer William Finn, which played in the spring and was recently released on CD.

     She also performed at Lincoln Center in the weeks after Sept. 11, 2001, and a poignant collection of songs from those concerts, “The Doorway,” is also newly available on CD.

     Jolted by the terrorist attacks into reprioritizing her life, Buckley has listed her Upper West Side Manhattan apartment for sale and started shopping for a ranch north of Fort Worth, where her mom still lives. “I always wanted to be successful enough to own a ranch and work with horses,” she said.

     A former head cheerleader at Texas Christian University and first runner-up in the 1966 Miss Texas Competition, Buckley remains extremely popular in Texas. In Fort Worth, there’s a new series of annual awards for high school drama named in her honor.

Most Texans are not prone to easily sharing deep feelings, certainly not with strangers. Buckley agreed that while sunny smiles may be the norm in our home state, anger and hostility often exist just below the surface.

     So how did Buckley come to have such a broad and deep well of emotions so readily accessed in life as well as in art?

     She has been in therapy since her 20s, she said, and in “serious analysis for the past 10 years.” She added that she regularly brings scripts to her therapist for insight into the characters she’s to play.

     Her broad emotional range is precisely what makes her such a compelling performer. And it translates across genres, allowing her to excel in theater, television and film.

     Buckley now teaches her craft at the Terry Schreiber School in Manhattan. Once a week during rehearsals in Williamstown, she traveled back to New York for weekly interpretation classes for actors and singers.

     “You make yourself a vessel … to be part of the flow,” she said. “I also teach meditation, and I meditate as I perform.”

     That must explain how she cries seemingly every time she sings her signature ballad, “Memory,” from “Cats” a feat, I said, that I’ve seen repeatedly.

     Oops.

     “Well, I don’t just make myself cry,” she said, a bit distressed and defensive.

     Time to switch topics.

     On the HBO prison drama “Oz,” she played an inmate’s mother who works in the prison as a music therapist. She conceived the character and storyline on the spur of the moment over dinner with “Oz” producer and writer Tom Fontana, who is an old friend.

     But neither of us could recall the name of the inmate whom she taught to sing during the last season. After she remembered that it was Omar, she referred to her memory slip as a “senior moment.” She’ll turn 56 on Thursday.

     The bumpy start had led to a mostly pleasant 90 minutes together. Thinking back, she said, “I don’t know what happened.”

     I don’t either.

     As we bid goodbye, she drew me into a big, warm embrace. She said, “I’ve always pictured myself as one day being this extreme, eccentric, weird older woman and I think I’m becoming that now.”

Originally appeared in the Times Union (6/29/2003)