I was a weird child. When my friends had pictures of ’70s heartthrobs like Donny Osmond and David Cassidy on their bedroom walls, I had posters advertising the London-based D’Oyly Carte Opera Company.
Don’t get me wrong, I liked Donny and David too, but I was obsessed with the music of Gilbert and Sullivan, which D’Oyly Carte began performing in 1875. Exactly 100 years later, I bought an extensive guide to their works with the paycheck I received from my first published work.
I attribute my early passion to my mother. An opera lover and trained singer, she knew Gilbert and Sullivan would provide me with a lighthearted foray into the world of classical music. Over time she would take me to see all the famous operettas. But much as I loved Sullivan’s melodies, it was Gilbert’s quick wit that helped encourage my love of the English language.
When I was studying drama in college, we were allowed to pick our own projects. I knew immediately what subject I would choose. Doing some official schoolwork gave me the impetus to write to the D’Oyly Carte Company, whose administrators were very kind to me. So much so that I not only got to watch a production from the wings, but also interview my favorite actor in the company.
Gilbert and Sullivan operas are very formulaic. There’s always the bombastic bass, the beautiful soprano and the light comic baritone, who sings the patter songs. If you don’t know what that means, try Googling a few. The best known are “I Am the Very Model of a Modern Major-General” from “The Pirates of Penzance,” the “Nightmare Song” from “Iolanthe” and Ko-Ko’s “I’ve Got a Little List” song from “The Mikado.” Gilbert was the king of satire, using these fast moving ditties to poke fun at Victorian society.
Anyhow, because of my love for these fast, quick-witted songs, the actor I most wanted to meet was John Reed. Reed was a member of D’Oyly Carte for 20 years, and still to me the finest comic principal they have had. I couldn’t have been more thrilled to meet him than my classmates would have been to hug David Cassidy.
My record collection contained all the operettas, and I saved all the programs as if they were works of art. While my friends were singing pop tunes, I’d be skipping around the house singing “I’m Called Little Buttercup” from “H.M.S. Pinafore.”
The reason I’m recalling all this now is that on our last trip to England I was able to re-establish some of those connections. W.S. Gilbert’s house still exists in the leafy London suburb where most of my friends and our son live. It’s called Grim’s Dyke and since 1970 it has been a popular hotel, particularly for weddings.
Although we’ve taken afternoon tea there several times, on this visit we included an overnight stay. It truly is a wonderful Victorian beauty, built in the early 1870s. The gardens are a tranquil place to wander, especially nice if you manage to hit rhododendron season. Sadly, Gilbert died of a heart attack trying to save a young girl from drowning in his pond in 1911. He’s buried in the churchyard at St. John the Evangelist nearby.
It was a coincidence that I managed to visit another spot filled with Gilbert and Sullivan memories when we visited London during the same trip. The Savoy Theatre sits on the Strand, tucked under the arm of the famous luxury hotel that bears the same name. We were lucky enough to get tickets to see Sarah Jessica Parker and Matthew Broderick in “Plaza Suite,” but I couldn’t help thinking of the times I had seen some my favorite operettas there some 50 years earlier.
The Savoy was designed for Richard D’Oyly Carte in 1881 on a site previously occupied by another theater, the Savoy Palace. The comic works became known as the Savoy operas, its performers, Savoyards. In an important side note for trivia lovers, the theater was the first public building in the world to be lit entirely by electricity.
Although “Plaza Suite” is not a musical, in my mind it does have one thing in common with Gilbert and Sullivan. The play is written by Neil Simon, who like Gilbert is known for his quick wit and fast paced stories. He’s someone I’ve always loved, and “Barefoot in the Park,” made in 1967, is still my favorite movie. While there certainly are differences between English Victorian and American 20th century humor, I find them both equally entertaining.
It’s hard to pick just one G and S opera as my favorite because I like elements of all of them. But if I had to make a little list, “The Mikado” would be right at the top. As Ko-Ko might sing if he were around today:
“As some day it may happen that a victim must be found,
“I’ve got a little list — I’ve got a little list,
“Of society offenders who might well be underground,
“And who never would be missed — who never would be missed!
“There’s the Ozempic population who stick needles in their tums,
“All vegans who eat healthily until December comes.
“All Swifties who will shake it up, and sing of summers cruel,
“The kids attached to phones all day, especially in school.
“And all party politicians you must vote for, they insist,
“They’d none of them be missed — they’d none of them be missed.”
Hilary Decent is a freelance journalist who moved to Naperville from England in 2007. She can be reached at Hilarydecent@gmail.com.
