Subject: KCRF MMIII Acts I & II
From: Butterfly Bill <butterflybill@grapevine.net>
Newsgroups: alt.fairs.renaissance
Date: Tue, 09 Sep 2003 13:44:03 -0500
The Kansas City Renaissance Festival got off to a hindered and interrupted start in 2003, for both myself and the faire in general. On the drive in my plans for having breakfast at the McDonald's in the rest area on the Kansas Turnpike were confounded by a bus arriving a few minutes before me, disgorging all its passengers into the line at the counter. I left and then stopped at the Waffle House by the exit you take to get to the faire site, and the service was a little slower owing to that it's a sit down custom-order place, so I arrived at the parking lot about 15 minutes later than I wanted to.
I got in line and bought the season pass, then after I had left the window I discovered that they had given me the medallion for last year. I don't really need it to get thru the gate, you go to the will-call window with your driver's license, sign next to your name on their list, and get your hand stamped - but still I wanted the right one for the collection I am growing. I had to go to another window to get it exchanged, and then had go and fetch my driver's license to show while they called up the other ticket window to confirm that I had indeed just bought the pass. While I was standing at the window in front, I saw Bruce the Bruce thru the window just opposite in back, and my hi after three months conversation was mildly interrupted by my momentary flusterment.
The weathermen had predicted scattered showers, but as the opening gate show was starting, so did the steady rain that was to continue thruout the day. The two previous weeks in northeast Kansas had had many cloudless days with temperatures over 100, and there had been a drought for the previous two months, so anybody with any interest in any kind of plant life had reason to be overjoyed - but the timing might could have been better relative to the Labor Day weekend. It just drizzled at first, and it was still comfortable enough walking around under an umbrella for a few hours.
The characters in the Royal Court were all different from last year. Henry VIII was gone (the man who played him is now a buffoon with Commedia Sans Arte), as well as any of his wives, and they were replaced by King Richard IV and Queen Eleanor. These two figures have no actual historical precedent. The program had on the front "Once Upon a Time", and I was told that this was "a fantasy faire", not set in any year in history. But the costuming had gone forward about fifty years from the early Tudor of last year's faire; the dress of all the court was now definitely Elizabethan. All of the ladies had at least a bumroll, and some had farthingales with high sides around the hips. Both genders had ruffs around their necks and elaborate gold embroidery.
The King was played by Ron Willard, whom I had not seen before, and Karen Troeh, who last year sprinkled fairy dust on children as Mother Nature in the Enchanted Forest, was now promoted to Queen. There was a royal family of five daughters, all teenage or less, and two princes, one a child and another in his 20s, a wayward playboy for whom their parents were trying to find a bride, which quest was the basis for one of the scenarios. His Majesty was a lot more jovial and comradely and not so imperious as the Henry of previous years. There was a scene in the scenario where the family all sang songs, and there I still got to hear Karen play her harp.
This year they had the whole crowd in front of the gate holler together, "One, two, three", which surely prevented any repeats of the time last year when the cannon failed to sound at the King's command, and the scene I beheld as I walked thru after "open the gates, and let the festival begin" was little different from last year. The Jolly Rogers were standing on the edge of the fountain singing pirate songs, the peasant dancers were circling the maypole to the right, and to the left were musicians from several bands jamming together under the tree. There was only one hammered dulcimer there, played by Lady Nancy, all the rest were guitarists or vocalists, and the long jig sets of previous years didn't materialize - so after one half-hearted attempt at dancing I didn't do it any more. Instead I went over to the maypole where the Bruce was, as well as two excellent recorder players and two more fiddlers, and I listened to them pump out the jigs. Almost all the dancers were new, and making me envious of their fleetness of foot.
About an hour after opening the rain intensified a bit to the point where any musicians who valued their instruments didn't want to stay out in it, and most of the other acts got impeded. Bob the juggler didn't want to get up on his ball. I was still being able to make a morning of it, I stopped at Arachne's and Lady Niniane's booths, and encountered also Brother William, and there were catch-up conversations.
Three Pints Gone were under a roof at the Royal Pavilion (which in spite of its name is not that royal in size, a small stage I'd guess at about 10 by 15 feet with hay bales for about 20 people). It appeared to me that only the hard-core rennies who come every year were there that first rainy morning, and everyone in the audience at this set had heard this band before; they all knew to say "YOU'VE got CDs?" and when to holler "Freedom". Randy the guitarist was gone; Kathleen had told me that he was wanting more weekends off with his kids. The new guitarist was only a temporary, to be replaced by the end of the faire run with a permanent replacement the she was sounding really enthusiastic about.
After they left the stage, Commedia Sans Arte took it, and they let the audience stand on the stage under the roof with them as they did their skits around and between. By noon it really started coming down, streams and puddles formed everywhere, and it became impossible to walk around without getting your feet seriously wet. I decided to leave at about 12:30. The rain continued all thru Sunday, and I didn't even consider going in, and I found out on a.f.r. that evening that the faire had been canceled for that day.
Monday dawned cloudy, and remained so until 5 in the evening, and the temperatures remained in the 60s - quite a contrast to the usual KCRF first weekend weather. It looked like it might could still rain, but maybe not, so I decided not to carry the umbrella. This courage was rewarded, it stayed dry all day.
I again started the day with standing by the maypole dancers, and I inquired of Bruce after the possibility that I could join in the band with my Irish lap harp. He told me to clear it with Jessica Willard, the entertainment director, and twice between shows we went off on vain attempts to find her.
I went into butterfly mode for a while, flitting around looking for random things to land on, but soon was attracted and then compelled to sit down by some lush 3-part male harmonies coming from the stage at Dunwoodie Dell. The band was Tippler's Way, and I had seen them the one time they were here last yea,r but not really remembered. This time they left a lasting impression. As I was sitting there, some members of Queen Anne's Lace sat around me, recognized me and greeted me, then turned to listen and were as grooved by the close harmonies as I was. When Tippler's way left, they were followed by Lady Nancy, then by Lilies of the Valley, both acts I had not seen since last spring and wanted to stay for. As parade time approached I finally got away.
The afternoon I caught Queen Anne's Lace for one of their gigs, and before them Tartan, from my hometown of Lawrence and with whom I participate in a weekly Celtic jams. I returned to the maypole a few times, and otherwise went around until I heard applause or sweet sounds. I dropped in on the Human Chessboard and Axel the Sot, and the Ficklebiches were still there. They had changed slightly the embarrassing costumes they make the men called up from the audience wear, but they still had the same basic routine, which I again viewed with smugness sitting there in my full and flaming drag. There were many other acts that I didn't have to time to see.
Saturday of the second weekend was perfect faire weather, sunny with the high in the mid-80s. I decided to make the Waffle House a regular stop. This morning Bruce and I succeeded in locating Jessica, and she said, "Patrons are always welcome to perform as long as it is all right with the musicians." At a later dance at the maypole I got the OK from Casey, the lead fiddler - so next Saturday (or Sunday if the possibility of rain forecast by the weather radio actualizes), God have mercy, I am going to see if I can keep up with the sometimes vivace tempos the maypole band plays their jigs at. [a post in reply to this one a few days later corrected me that the lead fiddler's name was Michelle.]
This was to be the last weekend that Queen Anne's Lace were here, so I went to all five of their sets. Two of them were marred by the scheduling of a rather loud African drum act at the same time. One time they were singing at the pub while the drummers were in Hunter's Glen about 50 yards away, and I got so frustrated that I left. The other time they sang at Merlin's Berm near the front gate while they drummed at the Da Vinci crane about 150 yards distant, still near enough that I had to listen between the beats. The first set was amid the chaos of just after opening gate, so only two times was I able to hear them in reasonably uncluttered clarity.
This year there were bagpipe acts scheduled thruout the run, not just on Scottish weekend. Adrian was there vociferating in front of Tartanic, and there was another trio I hadn't beheld before, with that rarity, a lady piper. Tartanic was to be there the first five weekends, and Scotland Rising the last three, with all of them there on Scottish weekend. They were placed with more wisdom than the drummers; they were on the stage outside in front of the gate a few times, and on the stage in the Wildwood, which is surrounded by rides and shops, with no other stages nearby that were in use.
Sunday I had accepted an offer to play the ashiko drum during the morning services at my church, so I did not attend faire that day.
On Labor Day Monday, while garbing up in my van in the parking lot, one of the lot attendants was one of those electronics addicts who goes crazy without his artificial music in his ear at all times, and he was wearing on his belt a tinny radio tuned to a rock station. I was annoyed, saying to myself, "This is exactly what I come to a Renaissance Faire NOT to hear." Later inside, while standing behind the band at the maypole and watching the dancers, I had a defining moment. The sight and sound summed up what appeals to me about Faire. No macho grunts to distorted electric guitars, instead girls dancing to jigs. I want to hear and play music in merry six-eight time, and I want to dance with the girls like the girls - and be able to have all the feelings associated with such and not be ashamed of them. And here I can.
Act III coming up next week...
-Butterfly Bill
"Greetings, milady...or is it milord?...or..um...."
"So did you lose the bet?"..."No, I won it, he bet me I wouldn't"
Ren Geek with pewter computer imputer
Solarus Juvenilius Pastritis of Sarcastica. He who Grouches
while Biting the Wax Tadpole.
"possunt vincere nothi solum si facetias tuas a te tollunt"
more faire reviews like this one are at
http://www.grapevine.net/~butterflybill/RbStories.htm#renfair
some of my computer music can be heard at
http://www.geocities.com/farfallabill/MechMus.htm