Trivia

FORGET THE CD--SEND ME A PHOTO

A man from Portugal once sent me a fan letter that included a request for an autographed photo.  He explained that he had discovered this website and had enjoyed my singing via the posted my song clips.  I happily complied with his request, though interestingly enough, he never requested a CD of my singing.

 

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SOMEBODY DIED

My father, Stanley Kruczynski, passed away in his sleep only one week before I opened in South Pacific in November 1996.  I attended the funeral, where I sang a solo of my dad's favorite hymn, and then I performed in South Pacific as scheduled.  But during one rehearsal prior to opening night, a fellow cast member--who had been absent when the cast had been informed of my loss--noticed me sitting on the floor in the darkened backstage looking forlorn.  In jest she said to me, "You look like somebody died," to which I replied, "Somebody did."

 

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ESCAPING INTO HISTORY'S GRIEF

Two weeks after my mom's unexpected death in 2004, I decided to audition for Titanic: The Musical, reasoning that I would have no problem acting in a tragic drama.  My role was that of the man at the helm of the ship when it struck the iceberg.  At least I didn't fall off the second-level deck while singing my solo of, "To Be a Captain," because they routinely moved the railing aside so the audience could see us actors. 

 

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SAME CHOREOGRAPHER, NEW LAST NAME

When I auditioned for The New Spats and Spangles in 2005, the choreographer looked familiar, but her name did not.  I later learned that she had choreographed and taught us cast members dancing in Annie Warbucks--as a 17-year-old nearly 10 years earlier.

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ANNIE DEJA-VU

Director Betsey Cox-Buteau bears the distinction of having directed me in Annie Warbucks in 1996--and directed my daughters Sarah and Amanda as Daddy Warbucks and Grace Farrell respectively in Annie Junior in 2005.  Later that same year Betsey (as Vera) acted with me (as Lindsay) in Mame.

 

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YOU'VE HEARD HIM?  I SAW HIM!

During the period in time when I was singing duets in concerts with Betsy Neville, I was already a big fan of the late singer Mario Lanza (1921-1959).  In light of this fact, I was amazed to learn that Betsy had once lived in Italy, where she attended grade school with Colleen Lanza, whose famous father used to pick her up after school.

 

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'TWAS THE NIGHT OF THE CONCERT

While a member of the Boston Pops Holiday Chorus in 2004 and touring with the Boston Pops Esplanade Orchestra under the direction of Keith Lockhart, I learned that Maestro Lockhart and I had a special Christmas season memory in common.  Both of us had grown up listening a recording of Waring's Pennsylvanians singing, "The Night Before Christmas."  Upon learning that fact, I suddenly understood why I just had to pick up an early copy of the choral arrangement at an antique shop earlier that year, which I had done despite reasoning that I didn't need it.  So before our Holiday Pops concert in Bridgeport, CT, I promised Maestro Lockhart that I would mail that choral arrangement to him as I gift, which I did at a later date. 

 

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DID I TELL YOU?  I'VE NEVER SUNG IN AN OPERA BEFORE

Contrary to most opera singers, my first two roles in opera were solo parts.  Although I had agreed to sing in the ensemble in the Operafest! of NH production of Lucia di Lammermoor in 1999, I was asked to sing the role of Arturo Bucklaw--which I did with only two weeks of preparation.  Six years later I finally made my debut as an operatic ensemble performer.

 

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ANOTHER LEADING ROLE

As a 22-year-old in 1980 I was asked to join a new barbershop quartet as their lead singer.  The group decided to adopt the name I had proposed, which was The Six-Foot Four, which I had suggested because of the fact that each of us was at least 6-feet tall.  By the way, there still exists in my possession a copy of a cassette tape made my my dad of the quartet singing, "Good-Bye My Coney Island Baby."  It sounded too good to destroy.

 

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LET'S SPEED IT UP, SONNY BOY

In the mid-1990s, I sang annually in the Epsom (NH) Players' annual variety show of old-time songs and skits, which was still being directed after 25 years by Hector "The Director" Emond.  Each year I would bring him a few pieces from my collection of old sheet music, and for my solo one year he selected, "Get Out and Get Under the Moon."  After the first run-through of that song, the show's longtime accompanist --87-years-old at the time and a teenager when the 1928 song was written--asked me if I would prefer to take the song at a faster tempo than the one I had chosen.  I declined her offer, which turned out to be good because it enabled her to reserve enough energy to keep the tempo steady till the end of the song.

 

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