ALL FTHAT SCREAMING AND YELLING, OR,

About the Book

Having spent almost their last cent to send members of the now failed and defunct Salami Opera Company (of Bologna, Italy) back to the homeland, Maestro and Madame had little choice but to remain in the city called Emerald — a place where not only the lawns remain forever green (because of being surrounded by water) but where special glasses are hardly needed to see effects of rising miasma on all aspects of life in Seattle, a city that, among other things, embrasses fads instantly, then runs them to ground: the first being croissants, with kiosks appearing almost instantly on every other corner.  This followed soon after by espressos and lattes.  In this culture starved city, the next was bagels.  One wonders what's next?

In any event, it's easy to see how the Salamis found their niche in this city by remaining and teaching (or making the attempt) less talented people of all ages, melding them into a small performing company.  Like it or not, opera was here to stay.

Growing in hilarity from beginning to end, the author narrates from personal experience, telling of life in musical (?) Seattle, where inhabitants water their lawns in the rain, and even the men suffer from penis envy.

Yes, the little Salami Company had it's share of divas — mostly past their prime.  There was Snegourochka Mikailovitch Smith.  having been born somewhere in, on, or at the bottom of the Russian Steppes, it was never learned where the "Smith" originated.

And there was Euretha Fallopian, who gave the word "obese" new meaning.  But her size never prevented her from cavorting all over the set, often taking props (and at times, other singers) with her, leaving a veritable maelstrom in her wake.

But don't despair, as there were a few excellent, youthful voices, too.  Soprano Teets Kummer, who, along with tenor Pepe La Trien (a "stage" name) and the author, sang Rigoletto while attempting to avoid protruding nails left in the floor by amateur volunteer carpenters.

From giggle to uproarious, each episode leads the reader to experience what it's like to be on stage singing opera — albeit with a bunch of nuts.

Unforgettable is the fatally ambitious production of AIDA which was mounted with support from friends of the opera, and the singers, including a roommate of the author's whose father owned a farm and supplied animals needed for the (in) famous Triumphal Scene.  The insuperable effluvium that ensued from the frightened sheep, goats and pigs (as yet untrained in stage deportment) would have cleared the theatre, except that the audience was so stunned, most were unable to move, as were a few drunken Skidroad derelicts who'd wandered in from the street.

You'll hoot, you'll holler, might even roll over and whinney at these unmitigated screwballs as they live vicariously on what they considered a high intellectual plane.

About the Author

From Burlington, Iowa, Richard Stark emigrated with his parents to Seattle, Washington. From grade school on he seemed to find himself in lead roles of all theatricals. A short time later he was acting on radio for the U.S Treasury, while studying music and writing at the University of Washington. Then, during a lengthy stint in California, Stark worked for a large wholesale book firm as sales coordinator, with such personalities as Billie Burke, Jim Backus and Pappy Boyington in the promotion of their books. While there, he audited play production at the Pasadena Playhouse, and studied acting at the Eugenie Leontovitch School in Hollywood, as well as singing with Robert Llewellen. He has been on the stage with the Peroni and San Carlo opera companies as well as other, more amateur groups where he gained inspiration for this book. He has studied in Austria at the University of Vienna and the Academy of Music and had master lessons with the late, great pianist, Lily Kraus. He has written several other books and plays and is now working on an opera.