Subject: KCRF MMIII, Acts VI & VII
From: Butterfly Bill <butterflybill@myappendixgrapevine.net>
Newsgroups: alt.fairs.renaissance
Date: Sat, 18 Oct 2003 18:01:04 -0500
Weekend 6 of the Kansas City Renaissance Festival brought faire weather as fair as any could want, sunny and in the low 60s at opening cannon, afternoon in the 70s, and starting to get brisk again as the sun got low before closing. I spent it mostly building on what I had been doing the previous weeks, spending lots of time at the maypole, playing my lap harp with the band at all the sets of the Peasant Dancers. (But not at all the performances the maypole musicians had to do. They also had to be at the Masked Ball (a part of the Cinderella scenario), the Mr. Romance contest, the pub sing in the Seafarers's Beergarden ("the only beergarden where you can't buy beer"), as well as march in the noontime parade. Taking the King's shilling entailed a full work day with never more than a half-hour break)
The main discovery of that weekend was Puke and Snot, the names taken for themselves by a pair of male standup comedians who came out in tights and doublets and even included a choreographed swordfight in their routine. They had a rapid-fire and histrionic delivery that reminded me of the old radio comics of the '30s and '40s, especially Abbot and Costello. They had one routine where Puke was describing to Snot a ship in nautical terms that could easily become confused double meanings ("the first mast is fore...I thought you said there were three masts.. the third mast is mizzen...well if it's missin', what happened to it?...), and I heard echoes of "who's on first, what's on second..." They switched the roles of straight man and punch line deliverer back and forth, and though each performance was different from the others, you heard again certain exchanges of a few lines. It was kind of like object oriented programming, they had a lot of subroutines that could be string together in different sequences. And they sometimes made the most comedy of the times they slipped up on the lines.
The final weekend was more of a challenge, weather-wise. Saturday morning was overcast as I garbed up in my van in the parking lot, and as I setting out to go to the window to get my hand stamped, I saw Josie from Minstrosity having her bodice laced up by a lady friend. I went over, gave her a hug, and asked, "What brings you here?" She replied, "Southwest Airlines." Finally I got more of the story, her daughter (which I hadn't known she had) was coming to Faire for the first time, and it was a good enough excuse for coming.
They opened the gates and let the Festival begin, and I played the harp at the very first maypole dance just afterward. Then just before 11 it started to sprinkle, and I hastened my harp back to the van. I came back in and told Bruce the Bruce that I was going to take playtron's privilege, and he gave me his blessing. I had been planning to take one day off from harp playing just so I could see more of the rest of the faire; the weather decided for me which one it was going to be.
I went into butterfly mode, flitting around and not looking at any schedule. While returning from my car after stashing my harp I stopped to behold a college madrigal choir singing out in front of the gate, later got captivated by a Commedia Sans Arte performance I was passing by. I happened in on a high school choir from the inner city of Kansas City, Kansas singing in the chapel, and had the unusual experience of hearing English madrigals sung by a group of mostly black faces. I have to say: they had soul.
And I went browsing in stores, even tho it was sometimes made more difficult by the many people seeking refuge from the rain inside the shops. In one garberie I finally bought a "Guenevere dress" out of golden yellow stretch velvet that I had been eyeing for weeks. It has a narrow neckline plunging down almost to the bellybutton, kept from spreading apart by criss-cross lacing up to the top.
The rain was intermittent, but there was a stretch around noon that was enough to get the grounds thoroughly soaked and puddly. The shoes I was wearing were not very well suited, and I left at about 3.
The following day, Sunday, was a gorgeous fall day, nippy enough for the cloak until about 11, then clear sunshine for the rest of the day. But the ground stayed quagmirously muddy the whole day, and got stirred up even further by the feet of what was quite possibly the biggest crowd of the season. I wore the Guenevere dress over some not very elegant leather loafers, and searched all over the shire for an appropriate headdress. I wanted a French hood with a veil or one of those dunce caps with a streamer, but couldn't find any that weren't cheap kid's stuff. I settled for a black headroll with fake pearl bindings, and at a different place got a brown silk Gypsy scarf which I put over my head like an Arab headdress. I'm still looking for the perfect one.
The main happening of that day was the final Mr. Romance contest. It was an event that had been held each day of the season. The Lord Mayor's wife every morning mentioned it in the pre-opening skit in the courtyard in front of the gate, "Every day at the hour of 3, we shall bring together all of the most strong, handsome men of the village. Then, there shall be a contest where we shall determine the most handsome man in all the shire. We shall judge them for their... ATTRIBUTES and declare one handsome gentleman 'Mr. Renaissance Romance' for the day."
But I didn't go to any of them until this final event where the 13 winners of the previous days competed for the first prize. The five top winners would get to go to a romance novel writer's convention in Kansas City, where they would be in a further contest, whose winner would be the model for a painting that would go on the cover of a book. I got to the Three Lion's Stage where it was being held just as it was starting. This stage has possibly the largest seating capacity on the site, a few hundred, and all the seats were taken and there were people standing all along the sides. I stood off to the side of about the fifth row from the stage, and I could view the audience as well as I could the performers.
The MC was a woman, and she introduced the contestants. Most were on the cast of the Festival. All but two were wearing tights. As each was introduced, they walked around on the stage waving to the crowd in front, then ended by ostensibly turning around to bow to Cinderella's two stepsisters up on a balcony behind the stage, in the process presenting their rumps to the people in front. This brought on loud applause and whoops. Some had even more elaborately prepared routines, going out into the audience to flirt with a few of the ladies seated there. The guy who played Prince Eric was a contestant, and he went out carrying a bundle of about twenty long-stemmed roses, which he passed out to as many lucky recipients, topping another contestant who had only had a half dozen.
Then they all lined up on the stage, and as each stepped forward, the audience were asked to cast their vote for each with their applause. The volume levels were judged by Cinderella's stepsisters. This was to be but one factor in the judging. There was a panel of five judges, most of whom were romance writers associated with Romantic Times magazine, that was putting on the convention. All were women, mostly middle-aged. But the audience response alone pared down the number to ten. All of these first three losers had the appearance of being patrons rather than performers, and were relatively shy in their behavior.
Then each one of the remaining ten came out and demonstrated their skills with a cast member woman assigned to him. He schmoozed her with some flattering words, then engaged in a passionate kiss, often involving some twisting and bending down. The women partners put on assorted displays of infatuation as he did, and the audience responded with cheers and loud "yeah"s . When all had performed, the stepsisters came down on the stage, went over by the judges seated in the first row, and huddled and discussed, occasionally turning around to glance at some of the contestants. Finally the stepsisters ascended to the balcony again.
The contestants had each been given a number, and a stepsister started to ask, "Will contestant number ___ please step forward?" Five were then left in the race. Then each one of these five was asked to step forward and show why they should be declared the winner. There was biceps flexing and booty shaking and other assorted provocative gestures. One of the contestants was one of the Gypsy dancers, and he did an impressive belly dance. The second one out took off his shirt with a lot of strip tease motions, finally throwing it to a person in the audience. All of the others that followed wound up doing the same thing. Three of them had shaved the hair off their chests.
It was just like a burlesque show for women. The ladies in the audience whooped and hollered just like the men at the Hollywood Palace theater when I was in San Diego with the Navy in 1965, and some screamed like they were at an Elvis or Beatles concert. It was a place where they could put all decorum aside, and they let it all hang out.
After all this was done, there was more conferring among the judges. The mistress of ceremonies then announced the winners starting with fifth place. The Gypsy dancer was third, and the two remaining were the Prince and the man who plays Robin Hood. Now Robin Hood is a near perfect double of Fabio, tall and muscular, with long flowing hair and a well-rounded bottom that he had in green tights. The Prince was definitely attractive, but short and not quite the TV-commercial model type. So I saw it coming down to a contest between looks and personality, for the Prince had definitely put on the better performance. Personality won; the Prince was declared the winner, and I saw what was possibly a genuine look of surprise on his face. I approved of the decision wholeheartedly, after having watched him all season.
Morning of the final day of the Festival, Columbus Day Monday, was overcast and again threatening rain, but this day I was determined that I was going to bear it out whatever it did. It rained intermittently thruout the day, starting with a shower around 11, then an intense burst just after noon sufficient to restore all of the mud that had been starting to dry out over the previous night. I was able to play the harp the first set, had to put in the van the second, then after the noon parade was able to have it out for all three of the afternoon performances.
The Queen sat on the stone wall that surrounds the fountain in the courtyard and commenced to sing and play her lap harp just as the maypole musicians were fixing to play the 2:30 set, and I had my own harp out of its case. I walked over to her with it in my hand, Her Majesty espied it, and with a look of delighted surprise beckoned me to come over and sit by her side. She said to the people gathered around, "Now we won't be able to play together because my own instrument is dreadfully out of tune with the rest of the world", but I still tried a few notes with hers to see if it was maybe the right amount out that one of us could transpose. But there was no way it was going to work. She then asked me to play something on my own harp, and I felt about as nervous as if I were playing for a real queen. Karen Troeh is a harpist excellent enough to be a model for me to emulate. I managed to get out Hunt the Squirrel without too many ragged edges, and she led the people around in applause. Then she asked if she could play a few notes my harp. I said yes, and she reached over plucked a few chords. I said to her, "Now it is blessed; it has been touched by the master."
After this consecration I went over to the maypole to play the final set of the Peasant Dancers, which turned out pretty routine without any especial sentimentality. I went on to catch 3 Pints Gone for the last time, and they had their new permanent guitarist, whom Bill addressed several times with "Hey Jimmy... ", and who knew a lot of songs that I hadn't heard the band perform before. The stage was then turned over to Lady Nancy, whose last set I also stayed for. The rain continued to come and go, and three times I decided to leave and then changed my mind. The Bruce had recommended to me that I be at the closing ceremonies on the last day, which he said had a special poignancy. I went to the pub sing in The Beergarden Where You Can't Buy Beer (actually there is a covered wooden deck up on the hill overlooking it where you can, but you're about a hundred feet from the stage), and just as the King and Queen entered it started to rain intensely, sending all musicians with wooden instruments into the dressing room behind the stage. An umbrella was produced for their Majesties, and the show went on with singers and plastic recorders, but I started toward the gate.
The court dances where the patrons can participate were in full swing when I got to the courtyard, the cloudy sky was getting dark, and the rain started to abate again. I went out thru the gate, went to the portapotty by the fence next to the participant parking lot, changed my mind while in there, and went back to the gate where the maypole musicians were under one of the archways leading in. There I was finally able to get some proper goodbye hugs from Bruce and Michelle. She asked me if I was going to be back next year, I said yes, and I told him I was going to be at Muskogee. I went around thru another gate back into the courtyard as their Majesties were returning. They ascended to the balcony and asked for a song. Those below responded with "Oh row the rattlin' bog", an Old Macdonald style song with a lengtheningly repetitious description of what's on a branch of a tree in that bog, with gestures for each part. I was envying the energy of all the young girls who jumped up and down clapping while singing the chorus. Then we all sang " Canaan's Land", the King bellowed out "Godspeed", the crowd joined in with "and fare thee well", then the chant began, "Outside the gates, outside the gates... "
After I was outside, I found Melody, gave her a hug, and told here she was quite possibly the best damn recorder player I have ever heard, and there were tears in her eyes as she said, "Thank you." I started for my car as others clustered around the stage in front of the gates, and the rain started to come down for real. The drive home on I-70 was at 45 mph. in windy thunderstorm conditions with very short visibility. I passed thru to the back of this squall line just before reaching Lawrence, and made it home safely.
So ended another season of KCRF, physically exhausting to my body with a heart condition, but intensely refreshing to my spirit. My harp playing made a quantum leap. Several people came up to me to tell me they are reading these faire reviews and complimenting me, motivating me to continue doing so. I'm putting away my expanding collection of garb until next spring, when it's time again to travel to distant faires.
-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.mp3.com/ButterflyBill
(take out my appendix to reply by e-mail)