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    AC Benus
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Somewhere a Life with You - 1. Part One – First Flush/Doubt Separation

 

 

.

 

 

LIBRETTO

 

 

 

 

"Somewhere a Life

with You"

 

Cantata con dialogo e musica

For Three Voices

In Two Parts

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

by

AC Benus

 

 


 

Personal note:

This cantata is an outcrop from my large-scale oratorio work on Gay American History and Men in Love. I had many more lyrics from Leaves of Grass than I could use and composed forty of them into a songbook. In addition, I had much Whitman material in the form of letters to and from him, journal entries, and interviews. This cantata creates a natural bringing together of some of this material. I was also interested in finding a proper home for the eyewitness accounts from Andersonville extermination camp survivor John McElroy. He wrote eloquently of the kind of male-male adhesion in real-life hell conditions where it is tested in the extreme. His voice is an exact contemporary to Whitman’s visionary love for the younger men with which he surrounded himself. My goal here is to show how Whitman’s poetry was made manifest by his actions and the actions of others of his time. They bid us to live up to their aspirations in our current day; we have it so much easier than they ever did.

 

 


 

Cast:

Tenor

Baritone

Bass

 

Accompaniment:

Small ensemble with piano

 

Bibliography:

(as referenced in the footnotes)

 

GAHGay American History, Lesbian and Gay Men in the U.S.A., Jonathan Ned Katz, 1976 New York, Thomas Y. Crowell Company

LGLeaves of Grass, Walt Whitman, 3rd Edition, 1860 Boston, Thayer and Eldridge

LSLoves Stories, Jonathan Ned Katz, 2001 University of Chicago Press

MDB My Dear Boy, Gay Love Letters through the Centuries, Rictor Norton, editor, 1998 San Francisco, Leyland Publications

 

Notes:

No stage sets; no props. The men should wear contemporary street clothes appropriate to their respective ages.

 

Musical Setting note:

The metres used throughout the poem generally indicate the delivery style/tempo intended for the stage action. Eight syllable lines are meant to follow the natural cadence of everyday speaking tempo, while decreases in the syllable count of individual line show progressively slower, more contemplative action. So, for example, a four-syllable line should take twice as long in performance as eight-syllable ‘recitatives’ lines.

How the dialogues are set, I leave up to the composer. I imagine a lively variety of different approaches – music under spoken word, musical silence until certain emotional (or inner dialogue) moments need to be highlighted, spoken word with sections of recitative and singing – whatever is appropriate to knit the scene together into a cohesive whole.

Recitatives I consider to be accompanied.

 

 


 

Part One – First Flush/Doubt Separation

Scene One: “First Sight”

 

 

No. 1 – Cavatina

 

TENOR:

Now I make me a new leaf

A tuned one fit for voices

For I have yet found nothing

As mighty as our voices.

 

For the word spoken in place

Has all the beauty we need

And every word thus uttered

Stands sweeter on its own terms.

 

For those of closed lips and brains

A word sung from a new leaf

Brings forth what lies slumbering,

Forever ready in words.[1]

 

 

No. 2 – Dialogo

 

BARITONE:

“You ask me where

I first met him? […]

[I was conducting

On my omnibus.]

He was the only passenger,

It was a lonely night,

So I thought I would

Go in and talk with him.

Something in me

Made me do it,

And something in him

Drew [him] that way. […]

We were familiar at once –

I put my hand on his knee –

We understood.”[2]

 

 

No. 3 – Cavatina

 

BASS:

Oh, the cityscape! You frequent

And swift flash of eyes

Offering me love,

Offering me the response

Of my own – these repay me.

Lovers unending

Only repay me.

 

Yet comes one, a city boy,

And when we must part,

Kisses me lightly,

Yet still full of robust love.

And I, in pub or crosswalk,

Kiss him in return.

American men,

We are those two natural,

And fine nonchalant persons.[3]

 

 

No. 4 – Dialogo

 

TENOR:

[In Andersonville]

I saw an admirable

Illustration of the affection […]

A sailor will lavish

On [his ‘chicken,’] […]

A bright, handsome […]

Fellow of about Fifteen. […]

This ‘old barnacleback’

Was as surly a growler

As ever went afloat,

But to his [boy]

He was […] tender and thoughtful. […]

This ‘chicken’ had

A wonderful supply of clothes,

The handiwork of his protector,

Who, like most good sailors,

Was very skillful with the needle.

He had suits of fine white duck,

Embroidered with blue, […]

And blue suits

Similarly embroidered

With white. […] When

The duck came up

From The old sailor’s

Patient washing,

It was as spotless

As new-fallen snow.”[4]

 

 

No. 5 – Duettino

 

BASS:

Shine and shade play on the trees,

As supple the boughs wag

Haste and harm rush on the streets

As city the crowds walk

While along fields and hillsides

Delight alone rushes.

In health, the full-noon trills me

From bed to greet the sun.

 

TENOR:

My respiration,

My inspiration,

Beating of my heart,

The passing of blood

With air in my lungs.

 

BASS:

The sniff of green leaves,

My inspiration,

Dark-colored sea rocks,

Hay within the barn,

The air in my lungs.

 

TENOR:

My inspiration,

Words belched on my voice,

Loosened to the winds,

The passing of blood

Through thoughts to my brain.

 

BASS:

A few light kisses,

A few embraces,

Beating of my heart,

The tender reaching

Around of his arms.[5]

(a due at recapitulation)

 

(recap: “Shine and shade…” etc)

 

 

 

Scene Two: “Divided with Loss”

 

No. 6 – Dialogo

 

BARITONE:

Ned Johnson,

A young Englishman

[Whose] fist was

Readier that his tongue.

[And his chum,

Walter Savage] […]

Of the same surly type,

Had come [over]

Twelve years before

And had been

Together ever since.

[After Savage was

Killed in battle,]

Ned could not realize

For a while his friend

Was dead. It was

Only when the body

Rapidly stiffened

In its icy bed,

And the eyes glazed over

With the dull film of death,

That he believed he

Was gone from

Him forever.

 

[Through the rest of the fight

Ned headed every assault by]

Cursing the rebels bitterly.

[When his regiment surrendered,

Ned] sat apart, his arms folded,

Head hung upon his breast,

Brooding bitterly upon

Walter’s death.

[But when a reb officer

Rode up,] Ned sprang

To his feet, made a

Long stride forward, […]

[Drew] the revolver

He had been hiding, […]

Cocked it and leveled it

At the rebel’s breast.

[He would have killed him,

Had his fellow soldiers

Not disarmed him.]”[6]

 

 

No. 7 – Aria

 

BASS:

On his right cheek

I place the family kiss,

And in my soul

I swear I will never

Deny me him.

 

The drudge of the cotton fields –

Or cleaner of the privies – [7]

The three scythes at harvest time

Whizzing arcs straight in a row

From three lusty angel boys

With shirts bagged out at their waists – [8]

Blacksmith with grimed hairy chest –

The butcher boy sharpening

His knife at the market stall – [9]

My face rubs the hunters face

When alone in his blanket – [10]

The swimmer naked at bath –

The bending forwards and back

Of a rower in his boat –

The laborer seated there

With his open noon-time meal –

The apprentice boy wrestlers

Grown, native-born and lusty.[11]

 

On my left cheek

He places the family kiss,

And in my soul

I swear I will never

Deny him me.

 

 

No. 8 – Dialogo

 

BARITONE:

[How I miss your]

Cheerful smiling face,

[Your] kiss of

Friendship and love,

[Your] kind ‘Good Night.’ […]

I have never before

Met with a man

That I could love

As I do you. […]

‘To know you

Is to love you.’”[12]

 

 

No. 9 – Arietta

 

TENOR:

All is a procession –

The universe with measured

And beautiful motion.[13]

 

Throughout the loving day,

The friend I am happy with,

His arm hanging idly,

Drapes warmly on my shoulder.

Lovely dripping fragments;

The poems of privacy,

Of night and men like me.

This poem shy and unseen

I still carry with me.

Soft forenoons drift to evening,

Smell of apples and sage,

The boy’s rousing to confide

What he was dreaming then.

The limpid liquid within,

The soft-scented young man,

Vexed corrosion so pensive,

Corrosion so painful,

Trembling, encircling fingers –

His pulse pounding through his palms –

I can feel it beating on my arms.

The wholesome relief then;

Smiles, repose and contentment.[14]

 

(recap: “All is a procession…” etc)

 

 

No. 10 – Cavatina

 

BASS:

Passing stranger – you do not know

How longingly I look to you.

You must be he I was seeking –

For surely I have lived a life,

Somewhere a life of joy with you.

 

All is recalled – as we pass by

You grew up with me, were a boy

That I ate with, that I slept with –

Your body became not alone,

My body not quite left yours yet.

 

Passing stranger – you do not know

You give me the pleasure of your eyes

You face, your smile, as we pass –

For surely you have lived a life,

Somewhere a life of joy with me.[15]

 

 

No. 11 – Finale della Parte Prima

 

TENOR, BARITONE and BASS:

Music always around me

Unceasing, unbeginning,

Long untaught, and yet I hear.

 

BASS:

A tenor strong, ascending,

Power and health with glad notes

I hear with the break of day.

 

TENOR:

A transparent bass shudders,

Lusciously under my feet

As sand rises ‘tween my toes.[16]

 

BARITONE:

A glimmering soprano,

Fresh as creation itself

Convulses through my love-grip.[17]

 

(recap: “Music always around me…” etc)

 

TENOR:

The different voices winding,

Strive with fiery vehemence

To excel in emotion.

 

BARITONE:

The tutti all triumphant

With sweet flutes and violins

Attend mourners at funeral.

 

BASS:

I think they know not themselves,

The higher meanings they make,

But I racked by them do know.[18]

 

TENOR, BARITONE and BASS:

Music always around me

Unceasing, unbeginning,

Long untaught, and yet I hear.

 

(Darkness – Intermission)

 

 


[1] LG = After p.240

[2] LS = p.165 interview, Peter Doyle meeting first Whitman

[3] LG = After ps.363 and 364

[4] LS – ps.138-141 memoirs, John McElroy, 1879

[5] LG = After p.24

[6] LS – ps.138-141 memoirs, John McElroy, 1879

[7] LG = After p.85

[8] LG = After p.87

[9] LG = After p.36

[10] LG = After p.100

[11] LG = After p.292

[12] LS = ps.155-156 letters, Elijah Douglass Fox to Walt Whitman, November 1863

[13] LG = After p.297

[14] LG = After ps.304-307

[15] LG = After p.336

[16] LG = After p.365

[17] LG = After p.60

[18] LG = After p.365

_

Copyright © 2018 AC Benus; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Chapter Comments

3 hours ago, MacGreg said:

This has taken my breath away. 

Thanks for reading it, Mac :) 

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17 minutes ago, AC Benus said:

Thanks for reading it, Mac :) 

I'll be reading it again... 

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What words can I write here? What words are there for this, for I am sure it was written with tears and blood? A work worthy of Pride. From those who came before. Who loved bravely and with the truth of their hearts. Bravo, AC and again, Bravo. For you have done, what few have, and I wipe them from my eyes with pride.

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57 minutes ago, MichaelS36 said:

What words can I write here? What words are there for this, for I am sure it was written with tears and blood? A work worthy of Pride. From those who came before. Who loved bravely and with the truth of their hearts. Bravo, AC and again, Bravo. For you have done, what few have, and I wipe them from my eyes with pride.

Thank you, Michael. Your praise is poetic and heartfelt; it touches me very deeply. I'll be post the second part soon as well. 

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I have thought of this piece and struggled with what to say about it. Great, wonderful, stunning come to mind, but it is more than that. It's brave and honest. And we, now, often don't know of, or remember those who have lived and struggled before us.

 

Pride should be more that a party, or a parade, it should be our history month as well. A time of reflection. This piece you've composed AC gives us history and words to reflect upon.

 

While this whole thing is wonderful, for me it's the first part that opens me up, hits me emotionally. It makes me proud that i write and that i am a poet as many gay people before me and you, were:

 

For I have yet found nothing
As mighty as our voices.

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AC, I agree with all the above. You never cease to astound me. 

 

What you’ve done so amazingly here, is given a further feeling of attachment and belonging to the community. Pride that is more than just a parade. It’s wrapped up in the history and lives of the seemingly unassuming men who came before and who dared to love. 

 I know I learnt something and for that I thank you. 

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I am just now getting to this. How perfectly marvelous this is. My head is a-reel with tunes and sounds of the stage. I think of Gottschalk or Joplin here and there, and some of Barber’s music elsewhere. Number 10 had me pondering musically most of all. But this is surely a wonder. 

 

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On 6/10/2018 at 4:17 AM, Mikiesboy said:

I have thought of this piece and struggled with what to say about it. Great, wonderful, stunning come to mind, but it is more than that. It's brave and honest. And we, now, often don't know of, or remember those who have lived and struggled before us.

 

Pride should be more that a party, or a parade, it should be our history month as well. A time of reflection. This piece you've composed AC gives us history and words to reflect upon.

 

While this whole thing is wonderful, for me it's the first part that opens me up, hits me emotionally. It makes me proud that i write and that i am a poet as many gay people before me and you, were:

 

For I have yet found nothing
As mighty as our voices.

Your comments about Pride being more than a party and parade makes me recall the origins: they were marches, protest marches taking back our streets for ourselves and refusing to be bullied and jailed anymore. That it's a party now is also great, a time to come together under one flag - yes, the rainbow flag because its very design means it accepts all - but we should also remember those who had to fight for this liberty with their own personal freedom, their minds, and oftentimes their bodies and lives too. 

 

Thanks for reading this, Tim. I really appreciate it! 

 

 

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On 6/10/2018 at 3:23 PM, Defiance19 said:

AC, I agree with all the above. You never cease to astound me. 

 

What you’ve done so amazingly here, is given a further feeling of attachment and belonging to the community. Pride that is more than just a parade. It’s wrapped up in the history and lives of the seemingly unassuming men who came before and who dared to love. 

 I know I learnt something and for that I thank you. 

Thank you, Def. I'm glad this piece is resonating with people. As I say in my opening remarks, Somewhere a Life with You sprang out of an overabundance of material I had generated for two other projects. It was written quickly, but even then I could feel its pulse while writing. Thanks again ❤️ 

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On 6/10/2018 at 3:48 PM, Parker Owens said:

I am just now getting to this. How perfectly marvelous this is. My head is a-reel with tunes and sounds of the stage. I think of Gottschalk or Joplin here and there, and some of Barber’s music elsewhere. Number 10 had me pondering musically most of all. But this is surely a wonder. 

 

Wow, Parker, thank you! Yes - reading a libretto is a bit like reading blueprints. As a stage work, what matters for this piece is the music. Emotions should be gripped and/or ripped apart by the composer bringing these relationships and poetry to life. Thank you for reading, and the Second Part will be posted shortly. Muah   

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On 6/9/2018 at 8:42 PM, MacGreg said:

I'll be reading it again... 

Part Two coming right up :yes:

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