Each time I present an American Singer program, I consider carefully what is already being offered to students out there.  To the point of questioning if there is even a need for the program to exist.  Each year, I struggle with the validity of accepting money from young artists without the guarantee that the information and experience I provide them will actually further their careers.  I know full-well the value of what I offer and do not question my intentions in providing it.  But, I do question every aspect of what that experience will be for everyone involved.  Teachers included.  As Artistic Director for the program, that is my job.

The American Singer program was inspired by a need for an intimate, professional training seminar focused on musical theater.  A hand-full existed in 1999, but none offered the level of mentorship that I envisioned.  So, I created a program based upon all that I had experienced which I found supportive and inspiring.  Much was based on the Academy of Singing at The Banff Centre in Alberta. 

The natural beauty of Western Canada was lovely, but more than that, it allowed participants to step completely away from their regular lives and worldly distraction.  The quiet environment intensified the experience we shared together as we focused wholly upon the music, the process of making it, and what it meant to us.  That is why I first offered the American Singer program in Breckenridge, Colorado.  It was similar to Banff.  And it was also my home town.  As I could guide the musical experience for the participants, I was also able to guide their experience outside of the music.  The natural beauty of Colorado sustains me.  Often, when I am very far away from it.

Some years later, in 2007, I was invited to join a music faculty at a large state university.   It was to be a one-year appointment with the subtle hint of future opportunity.  Regardless, I was excited to implement a few aspects of American Singer within a university school of music.  I enjoyed the town from the times I had visited as guest soloist with the local symphony and knew a little bit about the school of music and the voice program there.  Not a very ambitious program, but peopled with friendly faculty.

When vetting the university after accepting the one-year, Interim position, I called a colleague I knew on the voice faculty with whom I had worked previously.  I wanted to learn as much as I could of the program before my arrival on campus.  Calling from the deck of my cabin in Colorado (cell phone service didn’t reach inside the house),I asked four questions of my tenured colleague:

1. What do you do for recruitment within the state and regional high schools?
2. Do you have an 'open studio' policy where students may be referred to other faculty members for specific help?
3. Do you incorporate musical theater in the curriculum?
4. How do you support the graduates for job placement?

The answers were:

1. The best students go East for school; we do not recruit.
2. No.  We teach our own.
3. Musical Theater repertoire is not appropriate for a conservatory
4. We teach them the best we can, then send them on to grad school.

At the conclusion of the phone call, I thanked my colleague for the information.  After concluding the call, I leaned into the cabin and shouted to my wife, “Honey, don’t rent the house.  I found the problem.  It's my friend.”

At the end of my one-year appointment, I felt like the kid in the crowd in the story of The Emperor's New Clothes.  I saw things quite differently from a few of my colleagues.  It was undoubtably frustrating for all concerned.  But, decidedly, a learning experience.

My last conversation with my colleague ended with my mis-quoting Shakespeare:

Colleague: "We know you come from the professional world, but we have done things this way for many, many years."
Me: "Therein lies the problem."

Two weeks later, I was onstage in Les Miserables, actively pursuing again the art which I had 'professed' to teach.  Now,  five years later, I am again heading into a production of Les Miz.   I am challenged to present a performance as dynamic as that which I presented twenty-five years ago.  At the same time, I am preparing a course of study to offer next summer that marks fifteen years since the first American Singer program was offered.  Both projects demand the best of my ability, creativity and experience.  And the prospect thrills me.  

As well, I will again rejoin a university faculty.  I trained specifically to do so.  And when I do, it will be with a unified faculty of colleagues who seek to enhance our chosen craft through the nurturance of the next generation.  Young artists in music and theater are faced with the necessity of earning a living.  The simple days of 'heading to Europe' or even 'picking up a cruise job' or 'a national tour' are the rare exception, not the easy option of twenty years ago.  Now, our collegiate artists are racking up debt that they have no hope of repaying.  At least, not solely on the financial reward from their music.  Today's young artist must be even more clever and dedicated than we were.  How to parley the hours spent honing their craft into something marketable beyond the performance or teaching of music.  That is their question to be answered.  And that is the question that will be addressed in American Singer 2014.  

But in the meantime, excuse me, I need to get to the gym.

REMEMBERING VINNIE

As I prepare for the return of American Singer Seminar in Summer, 2013, I am thoughtful of why it was first developed and for whom.  It is totally for the participants.  Those who will join me as colleagues and shape the future of the Business called 'Show'.  Some things will change.  But the essence of the program and the quality of the instruction and the instructors will never be compromised.  The first man I invited to join me as partner to this project was Vincent Liff of Johnson Liff Casting.

Sometime in the Spring of 1999, I sang an audition for Vinnie Liff and the production team of a now long-closed musical.  It was a hot, noisy day at NOLA Studios in New York.  Part-way through my audition song, I walked over to the open window and pulled it closed.  Before the end of the song, the entire table was laughing.  They tried to keep it together, but they were a mess.  The song wasn't all that funny, as I recall.

After I stopped singing, Vinnie apologized to me saying, 

"We all watched you close the window.  And each of us, individually, tried to figure out the acting motivation for doing so in your song.  Then, we each realized that we no longer heard the jack-hammer outside in the (54th) street and figured out that you were simply, closing the window.  At which point, we all lost it.  Please forgive us.  It's been a long day."

After my audition, the rest of the production team took a much-needed break and left the studio.  Vinnie had a snack with him and remained in the room.  I told him I was developing a summer program that would serve as an introduction to the industry for young musical theater performers.  I was focusing on what was not taught in colleges or conservatories, while basing the vocalism on classical training that had served me so very well.  I intended to teach at a university in the future and wanted to create a workshop that would serve as the basis for my one day leading a department.

My faculty for the this, 'seminar' would include working New York performers who shared a gift and passion for teaching as I did.  I added that I intended to invite his casting assistant, Ron LaRosa, a former Les Miz cast-mate of mine, to come join the faculty that summer in Colorado.  At that point, he put down whatever he was munching on and asked me,

"My dear boy, why would you invite Eliza when you could have Higgins?"

Vinnie Liff, the casting director who rose to introduce me at every audition he invited me in for, and often walked his actors to the door to open it for them on the way out.  This is the man I wanted my young colleagues to meet.  For them, his courtesy and adoration of the art form and the community that supported it, would be the benchmark against which all other casting directors, producers and colleagues would be measured.

He joined the faculty for three summers.  He loved being there and the participants loved him for his honesty and humanity.

Vinnie died in February, 2003 after years of dealing with an unkind and relentless brain tumor.  In May of that year, I sang Bring Him Home at his memorial onstage at the Majestic Theater in New York.  I am not sure exactly how I got through that song.  Nor, why I was even there since I was the only singer without a Tony Award on his mantle.  Vinnie had 'cast' his own memorial months beforehand and left instructions for his assistant to make the arrangements.  After I sang, a tall, gorgeous man sang "Moon River".  It was the most beautiful thing I could imagine.  Walking out afterward, I asked Norm Lewis if he was interested in joining me for a special Bernstein MASS project in Dallas.  He was, and he did.  And he was brilliant.  I told him at the time that it was likely for that reason alone, Vinnie had invited me to join in his last New York production.

Since his death, a 'Vinnie Liff" Scholarship has been provided to ensure that an actor, who otherwise could not attend, had a chance to experience what we do at American Singer.  It's not much, but it is a living tribute to a colleague and friend who meant so very much to so very many of us.

Cheers, Vinnie.  This one's for you.

Doug Webster