in the late 1990’s another momentous event had occurred . Computer technology caught up with me and inspired me to blow the dust off GPJS when music synthesizers became a staple the music world. It occurred to me, I could orchestrate the whole damn thing and turn it into a real work of music instead of a patchwork of melodies, lyrics, and guitar or piano accompaniment.
Now my second wife had a number of fine qualities, but she was also a bit of a miser. She hated spending money on what in her mind was “frivolous,” meaning anything I wanted that she didn’t. Even if we could afford it. This resulted in me doing it behind her back. (Come on, ladies, what do you expect when you do that?)
I knew she would never agree to a synthesizer keyboard. So I did my research and discovered a good deal on a Roland XP synthesizer. When she was off at work, I drove half an hour to the shop, checked it out, and bought it. I also picked up two flat studio monitors (speakers), a studio amplifier, MIDI software to program all this music I was about to compose, and the cables needed to hook the whole system up. 1500 bucks poorer, I drove home, steeling myself for the confrontation I knew was coming.
Now I’m not a pet person. Hike up the canyon and encounter animals in the wild Cool! Even spiritual! Animals running around my house yapping and shedding hair? Nuh-uh! I was adamant about no free range pets in my home. My daughter wanted a dog ( we let her have a hamster in a cage), my wife was partial to having a dog, but a man has to take a stand sometimes.
When the synthesizer confrontation erupted, I let my wife vent, calm in the knowledge that no way was I bending on this one. This was a cherished project of mine since high school.
Suddenly I saw a lightbulb flash on above her head, and her demeanor changed. Oh dear! What devious retribution had she dreamed up?
The next words out of her mouth were, “Okay, then we’re getting a dog!”
I was trapped! Blackmailed! Oh, the sacrifices we creative types make for our art. On her next birthday, my daughter got a pet dog.
I launched into orchestrating General Prophet Joseph Smith. I was no keyboardist, so I had to meticulously insert every single note by hand (well, by mouse) for every instrument in the orchestra for a musical that ended up being two-and-a-half hours long.
But when I completed it, I glowed with a warm sense of accomplishment. A couple decades after I completed its creation, my opera had come to life. And to this day, I think I did a pretty good job, considering I had no formal music training and really didn’t have a clue what I was doing.
I searched out a recording studio and found a reasonably priced one. I put up announcements at the University of Utah and Salt Lake Community College to recruit singers, paying them a paltry token sum of $50 total for hours of work in the studio—except fr the guy I cast as Joseph Smith because he had a lot more studio time. I paid him $100. The cast were real troopers and had fun with the project. They ranged from tolerable to impressive in their singing skills.
I auditioned them in my own dining room. I described the style of the music as somewhere between Les Miserables and Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. This serendipitously motivated a number of them to come in prepared to sing something from Les Mis. I felt privileged to be serenaded by talented singers belting out songs from the greatest musical ever composed.
Sadly, Colm Wilkinson was not one of them.
I recruited a mother and son team in my neighborhood to create a logo, inspired by an old, well-known painting of Joseph Smith addressing the Nauvoo Legion wearing his lieutenant general uniform and sword outstretched.
That logo would be used on the cover of what turned out to be a double CD set of two-and-a-half hours of music.
When the recording was done, I paid off my singers, designed a booklet of lyrics and singer credits, then ordered 1000 copies of the CD set.
Another milestone had been achieved. My opera existed in the real world. People could hear it now in its fullest. I could sell copies of it, and I did selling a modest amount.
And life went on as if GPJS never existed.
In gratitude for those volunteers who helped sing my opera into existence, I want to acknowledge them here:
Adam Eskelson
Miriam Pritchett
Jon Humberstone
Jill Chappell
Richie Clark
Andrew Luker
Don Martindale (my brother)
Ryan Reilley
D. Scott “Doc” Roberts
Andrew Zaugg
Tamara Sleight
Dianna Martindale (my sister-in-law)
Blake Hall
Rebekkah Nye
Jeff Whitehead (who also co-designed the logo)
Becky Hale
Celena Nelson
Ainee Lloren Ong
Nina Rebecca Cooley
W. James Stoll
Natalie Martindale (my daughter)
Mark McClelland (also studio owner and engineer)
D. Michael Martindale (me, one whole line)