I was involved in the very first stage production of ‘Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’, directed by Ken Campbell at the ICA (Institute for Contemporary Arts) in the Mall, London, from May 1-9th in 1979. His company was called appropriately, The Science Fiction Theatre of Liverpool.
When we began rehearsals, the BBC radio version was already up and running and had a growing audience. Peter Jones was playing the ‘book’ or narrator of the series. Ken decided that for the stage version, two female actors could share the narration, both to be dressed as ‘space maidens’. I arrived at the ICA one afternoon to talk to Ken about my upcoming application to the Arts Council to be his assistant director and there and then, found myself with a part in the show. That was typical of Ken, a kind of Anarchist/Taoist approach to life and casting. “Well Cindy happened to be there at the time” he explained. Together with Maya Sendall, the other actor playing the book of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, I set about learning the huge number of lines. We started well in advance of rehearsals because we introduced and commented on every scene. Our costumes were made by Mavis Taylor and consisted of black and gold leotards with shiny pink tights and high heels. On our heads we wore gold caps to which were attached wobbling, gold antennae and to finish off the look, we had little black capes lined with gold satin, high gold collars and the words ‘Don’t Panic’ written on the back in bright pink letters. Ken suggested we also wore pointed gold bras on the outside of our costumes, like Modesty Blaise. I only agreed if mine could be used as a gag, more of which later.
The ICA had a small theatre space, insufficient really to create the illusion of an epic space journey; so Ken Campbell came up with the brilliant idea of sending the audience into space by seating them on a hovercraft, which would move around from scene to scene, using the full 360 degrees of the theatre floor. He managed to get the firm Rolair systems to lend us a small hovercraft, plus the air cushions on which it would sit. Mike Hurst built a wooden platform for the auditorium and placed it on top, which meant that the whole structure floated on an inch or two of air. There would be seating for eighty people, plus two of us ‘space maidens’ standing as flight attendants for the entire journey. (Health and Safety, I might add was not such an issue 40 years ago).
The opening scene where Arthur Dent learns from Ford Prefect that the earth is about to end, took place in the ICA bar. As you may already know, the unpleasant and bureaucratic Vogons had made plans to destroy earth in order to make way for an intergalactic bypass. The audience was prepared for the end-of-the-world and the beginning of their space journey by drinking Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters – a wonderful cocktail of a violent blue colour, specially created to a secret recipe by a cocktail barman from a famous London hotel. It was extremely strong and certainly put the audience in a good mood for the theatrical cosmic adventure which was to follow! The entire first scene, with John Joyce as the builder; Arthur Dent – played by Chris Langham and Richard Hope as Ford Prefect, had a great sense of urgency and impending doom. There were suitable crashing sound effects of bulldozers destroying Arthur’s house, while from the open door of the theatre came the roar of spaceship engines about to take off. As the scene ended, we space stewardesses rushed the audience into the smoke-filled auditorium with the encouraging announcement, “Don’t Panic!” Inside we helped them to clamber up rather rickety steps onto the hovercraft. Once seated, there was an enormous bang and, amid even more clouds of smoke, the hovercraft rose into the air, (actually about six inches but gave the impression of being much higher). Then the craft did a smooth 360-degree turn and rushed forward swiftly to stop in front of a narrow ledge on the theatre wall, where stood Arthur Dent and Ford Prefect, (the actors were supported on the ledge by wires) apparently in the air-lock of their rescue spaceship. The disoriented but thrilled audience were now right bang up against the action.
After this short scene in the airlock, the audience were whisked around once more to the back of the theatre and then, accompanied by loud music and more smoke, the hovercraft was rushed forward to land in the brightly lit interior of the Heart of Gold spaceship, where Trillian and her team of space travellers were waiting to greet them. Trillian was played by Sue Jones-Davies (who went on to be Brian’s girlfriend in ‘Life Of Brian’.) The very hot costume for the two-headed schizophrenic Zaphod Beeblebrox was inhabited by Mitch Davies and Stephen Williams. Marvin the paranoid android was Russell Denton who had played the lead in ‘The Warp’ – the twenty-four-hour piece we presented at the ICA the year before, also directed by Ken Campbell (which entered the Guinness Book of Records as the longest show ever.)
There then followed ninety minutes of riveting space adventure as the audience’s ‘spaceship’ (pushed into place by hardworking stagehands), was moved around the Galaxy from platform to ledge all around the theatre space for each scene. We space maidens officiating on the hovercraft were close enough to the audience (practically sitting on their laps, the platform was so small) to register all their reactions, which was great fun, if sometimes rather alarming. One night, my mother was seated near the front and, as a result of probably too much Gargleblaster, responded loudly to every rhetorical question, which the rest of the audience loved and laughed along with, but deeply embarrassed me and impaired my concentration on the many, many lines we had to remember. We did, however, have a big bound copy of The Book to refer to but we hardly ever did.
At one point, the text referred to “Things not always being what they seem…” and it was then that I pulled off my goldy pointy space bra to reveal that it was attached to the two springs of a ‘slinky’ and the two peaks bobbed away on them in front of the audience – a cheap laugh but a big one!
In that limited run at the ICA, we became the hottest show in town. This was after a slow start leading up to the opening, where we ‘space maidens’ would have to hang around the box office in our silly costumes and encourage the punters to book for the show. Then there was suddenly a huge demand for tickets, because of the previews, plus the novelty of riding about on the hovercraft – which held only 80 people. We could have sold out many, many times and there was a long queue for returns stretching down the Mall, every day for the whole run. I was phoned by people I barely knew, who were trying to get tickets but of course, I had no control over bookings. Writer Douglas Adams loved the show and always maintained it was his favourite.
At the end of the run at the ICA, I was asked by Douglas and producer Geoffrey Perkins, to record for two audio albums of Hitchhiker. So in July that year, I went along to the studios and recorded Trillian and all the other female voices on ‘The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy’ and ‘The Restaurant at the End of the Universe.’ I understand that both albums are available on CD and vinyl.
2020 was the 42nd anniversary of the first incarnation of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy – the hugely successful spoof science fiction written by Douglas Adams, originally as a series for BBC Radio 4. And on Sunday, March 8th 2020 there was a day-long celebration of the anniversary at the British Library in London. I was be taking part in readings from the play and answering questions on a panel.
I was involved in the very first stage production, directed by Ken Campbell at the ICA (Institute for Contemporary Arts) in the Mall, London, from May 1-9th in 1979. His company was called appropriately, The Science Fiction Theatre of Liverpool.
When we began rehearsals, the BBC radio version was already up and running and had a growing audience. Peter Jones was playing the ‘book’ or narrator of the series. Ken decided that for the stage version, two female actors could share the narration, both to be dressed as ‘space maidens’. I arrived at the ICA one afternoon to talk to Ken about my upcoming application to the Arts Council to be his assistant director and there and then, found myself with a part in the show. That was typical of Ken, a kind of anarchist/Taoist approach to life and casting. “Well Cindy happened to be there at the time” he explained. Together with Maya Sendall, the other actor playing the book of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, I set about learning the huge number of lines. We started well in advance of rehearsals because we introduced and commented on every scene. Our costumes were made by Mavis Taylor and consisted of black and gold leotards with shiny pink tights and high heels. On our heads we wore gold caps to which were attached wobbling, gold antennae and to finish off the look, we had little black capes lined with gold satin, high gold collars and the words ‘Don’t Panic’ written on the back in bright pink letters. Ken suggested we also wore pointed gold bras on the outside of our costumes, like Modesty Blaise. I only agreed if mine could be used as a gag, more of which later.
The ICA had a small theatre space, insufficient really to create the illusion of an epic space journey; so Ken Campbell came up with the brilliant idea of sending the audience into space by seating them on a hovercraft, which would move around from scene to scene, using the full 360 degrees of the theatre floor. He managed to get the firm Rolair systems to lend us a small hovercraft, plus the air cushions on which it would sit. Mike Hirst built a wooden platform for the auditorium and placed it on top, which meant that the whole structure floated on an inch or two of air. There would be seating for eighty people, plus two of us ‘space maidens’ standing as flight attendants for the entire journey. (Health and Safety, I might add were not such an issue 40 years ago)
The opening scene where Arthur Dent learns from Ford Prefect that the earth is about to end, took place in the ICA bar. As you may already know, the unpleasant and bureaucratic Vogons had made plans to destroy earth in order to make way for an intergalactic bypass. The audience was prepared for the end-of-the-world and the beginning of their space journey by drinking Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters – a wonderful cocktail of a violent blue colour, specially created to a secret recipe by a cocktail barman from a famous London hotel. It was extremely strong and certainly put the audience in a good mood for the cosmic theatre adventure which was to follow. That entire first scene with John Joyce as the builder; Arthur Dent played by Chris Langham and Richard Hope as Ford Prefect, had a great sense of urgency and impending doom. There were suitable crashing sound effects of bulldozers destroying Arthur’s house, while from the open door of the theatre came the roar of spaceship engines about to take off. As the scene ended, we space stewardesses immediately rushed the audience into the smoke-filled auditorium with the encouraging announcement, “Don’t Panic”. Inside we helped them to clamber up rather rickety steps onto the hovercraft. Once seated, there was an enormous bang and, amid even more clouds of smoke, the hovercraft rose into the air, (actually about six inches but gave the impression of being much higher). Then the craft did a smooth 360-degree turn and rushed forward swiftly to stop in front of a narrow ledge on the theatre wall, where stood Arthur Dent and Ford Prefect, (the actors were supported on the ledge by wires) apparently in the air-lock of their rescue spaceship. The disoriented but thrilled audience were now right bang up against the action.
After this short scene in the airlock, the audience were whisked around once more to the back of the theatre and then, accompanied by loud music and more smoke, the hovercraft was rushed forward to land in the brightly lit interior of the Heart of Gold spaceship, where Trillion and her team of space travellers were waiting to greet them. (Trillion was played by Sue Jones-Davies who went on to be Brian’s girlfriend in Life Of Brian ). The very hot costume for the two-headed schizophrenic Zaphod Beeblebrox was inhabited by Mitch Davies and Stephen Williams. Marvin the paranoid android was Russell Denton who had played the lead in The Warp – the twenty-four-hour piece we had presented at the ICA the year before, also directed by Ken Campbell (which entered the Guinness Book of Records as the longest show ever.)
There then followed ninety minutes of riveting space adventure as the audience’s ‘spaceship’ (pushed into place by hardworking stagehands), was moved around the Galaxy from platform to ledge all around the theatre space for each scene. We space maidens officiating on the hovercraft, were close enough to the audience (practically sitting on their laps, the platform was so small) to register all their reactions, which was great fun, if sometimes rather alarming. On one night, my mother was seated near the front and, as a result of probably too much Gargleblaster, responded loudly to every rhetorical question, which the rest of the audience loved and laughed along with, but deeply embarrassed me and impaired my concentration on the many, many lines we had to remember. We did, however, have a big bound copy of The Book’ to refer to but we hardly ever did.
At one point, the text referred to “Things not always being what they seem…” and it was then that I pulled off my goldy pointy space bra to reveal that it was attached to the two springs of a ‘slinky’ and the two peaks bobbed away on them in front of the audience – a cheap laugh but a big one!
In that limited run at the ICA, we became the hottest show in town. This was after a slow start leading up to the opening, where we ‘space maidens’ would have to hang around the box office in our silly costumes and encourage the punters to book for the show. Then there was suddenly a huge demand for tickets, because of the previews, plus the novelty of riding about on the hovercraft – which held only 80 people. We could have sold out many, many times and there was a long queue for returns stretching down the Mall, every day for the whole run. I was phoned by people I barely knew, who were trying to get tickets but of course, I had no control over bookings. Writer Douglas Adams loved the show and always maintained it was his favourite.
At the end of the run at the ICA, I was asked by Douglas and producer Geoffrey Perkins, to record for two audio albums of Hitchhiker. So in July that year, I went along to the studios and recorded Trillion and all the other female voices on The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy and Restaurant at the End of the Universe. I understand that both albums have recently become available on CD. – Cindy Oswin
“You can’t stand
there, don’t you know there’s a rehearsal going on?” A big
woman hissed at me from out of the gloom, as I stood waiting
anxiously with my suitcase. I had found my way as per instructions –
come in through theblue door in Sacheveral Street and up
the steps on the left – it couldn’t properly be called a
Stage Door – really the back entrance to the scene dock and the
steps were wet and rickety. Once inside the darkened theatre, I was
drawn, moth-like, to the wings of the brightly lit stage, when this
actress in a large red hat appeared – not the stage manager I had
expected. As I began to introduce myself, she immediately shushed me,
“Not now, come with me.” I followed her past the prompt desk,
with its panel of glowing cue lights and little mirrored spy hole; I
wanted to stop and have a good look at everything but had no choice
but to follow her down some stone steps into a big shabby room full
of sagging sofas and overflowing ashtrays.
The Green Room was the
actors’ hang-out and had a little kitchen attached. I was informed
that was where I would make the tea for the company during
rehearsals; Sam, the fireman would make tea during the performances.
And I may as well start at once, as the company would break in a
minute and would be parched, and no sugar for her as she took
sweeteners. “By the way, my name is Mary Lainé with an acute
accent over the E and not a Y. I know it’s a bore but do try to
remember.” With that, she swept from the room.
The Stage Director came
in as I was looking for the kettle and informed me that there wasn’t
one and that I should set the water heater over the sink to ‘boil.’
Linda was the boss of backstage. She was of slight built with short
blond hair and thick glasses. Over the next few weeks I came to
appreciate her quiet authority and surprising physical strength. Next
in line was the Stage Manager Geoff, who would be my immediate boss
in the theatre hierarchy. He wandered in and grunted a greeting at me
and then stared balefully at the reluctant boiler. Mary Lainé, I
learned, was the leading lady and Michael Hall, the leading man. Ian
Cooper, who had given me the job a few weeks ago, was the Artistic
Director of Derby Playhouse.
I continued to wait for
the boiler to actually do something before rehearsals ended, when the
door next to me crashed open and a group of actors ran into the Green
Room, lighting cigarettes and laughing. They were all pale from the
long hours working in artificial light. I was introduced to all of
them and promptly forgot their names, apart from Michael’s, he was
older than the rest and seemed rather grand in his immaculate suit,
but welcomed me warmly.
Everyone helped me to
find tea things and pile a huge tray with mugs, milk, sugar and a big
brown tea pot. I carried it carefully through the Pass Door and into
the auditorium, where I placed it on the edge of the stage. From
there, I shakily poured out about twelve teas. Mary declared hers to
be “Gnatspistic,” which I had some difficulty in decoding, but
eventually realised it was a pejorative reference to the urine of an
insect. And that one of the most important things in my new theatre
life was to regularly make a decent, strong beverage for the company.
I was to run the Tea Club, collect money from everyone and then pay
the bill at the end of the week in the shop across the road. Mary
privately informed me that if I didn’t make money from this crucial
job, then I was an idiot. After that shaky beginning, Mary became my
ally and mentor.
The fact was, that
although I now had a full time job, there was to be no money attached
to this position of Student Assistant Stage Manager, I was the lowest
of the low in the company. My mother gave me ten shillings a week for
my living expenses, which I knew she scraped together from her work
at the Electricity Board.
My job, apart from tea
making, was ‘propping’ which meant going all round the shops in
Derby and persuade them to lend their wares for the various shows. We
were in fortnightly rep. so this was a regular task. The shopkeepers
lent their china and furniture willingly, in exchange for an advert
in the programme. Sometimes I was to be ‘On the Book’ – a much
more responsible job which meant writing down all the actor’s moves
in the Prompt Script, while sitting next to Ian, the director in the
front stalls, as the rehearsal progressed on stage. I had to be
careful to reverse left and right in the prompt copy, to accommodate
the stage directions from the actor’s point of view. I was to learn
to always be on the ball in following the script and be very careful
with my prompts, in case I interrupted an actor with an inappropriate
cue, while they were enjoying a dramatic pause; then they would yell
“Don’t tell me – I know it, I know it.”
With the show changing
every two weeks, the company was always in rehearsal for the next
one, which put tremendous pressure on the leading actors. They were
continually learning new lines for the coming show, while performing
the present one at night. Rehearsals ran from 10.30 till 2pm so that
gave time for rest and study before the evening show at 7.30.
That first evening, I
was surprised to be asked to operate the sound for the show which was Tartuffe by Moliere. Although it was a small rep company, they
attempted a wide range of work – from the classics, through to pot
boilers like Sailor Beware as well as serious contemporary
plays by Tennessee Williams and Max Frisch. And they also produced a
musical comedy and a home grown pantomime, every year.
Linda took me up the
metal ladder, into the flies. All along the gallery was a huge
lighting board with levers and switches which had to be operated by
hand. It looked like a railway signal box. Ronnie was the lighting
man, blond, handsome and prone to moodiness. At the far end of the
bank of levers was a desk, with a record turntable and a big tape
recorder. It was called a Panatrope and tonight, I was the panatrope
operator. “There aren’t many sound cues in Tartuffe so you
should be fine,” said Linda, “But Ronnie will keep an eye on
you.” So after giving me instructions and a little practice, she
left me to it.
I stared hard at the
red Stand By cue light on my desk and poised the needle over the
groove on the record. I could hear the audience, muffled through the
big safety curtain ─ called The Iron ─ dividing the back of the
house from the front. Then it rose and the chatter became louder. My
cue light flashed green, the signal from Linda in the prompt corner –
I lowered the needle, the house lights went down, then a great
brightness came up on stage with a lot of whirring and clanking of
levers and cogs from Ronnie’s end of the gallery. The audience fell
silent as the opening of Prokoviev’s Classical Symphony sounded, bang on cue, at exactly the right level, as per
instructions. The play began.
Up in the dusty darkness with the little winking cue lights, looking down on the well-lit top of Michael’s big curly wig, I felt a huge surge of happiness. “Yes, I am here at last, I’m really working in the theatre.”
I hope this brand new website will help you find effective ways of having a clearer, more relaxed and stronger speaking voice, as well as giving you tried and tested tips for dealing with any nervous moments before speaking in public. The vocal techniques and relaxation exercises, all tailored to your specific needs – will give you more control in presentations, interviews and speeches in your career and social situations.
My Voice Coach exercises will not aim to take away
your accent – it is absolutely part of who you are. But
communicating with a clear speaking voice is essential in today’s
work environment; we all know that misunderstandings in speech can
often lead to errors in outcomes. So we will look at ways of being
understood more clearly by other people and how to improve your
listening skills.
I do hope you enjoy your tour around the website
and if you would like to ask me anything more about the coaching, do
drop me a line by email – cindy@myvoicecoach.co.uk
When I was young,
I had occasional walk-on roles at the Royal Opera House, Covent
Garden, which were strictly non-singing. This meant standing on a big
stage, wearing an often very uncomfortable costume; maybe moving
about and acting, but all the time with my mouth firmly closed, while
wonderful singers belted out their arias all around me. One
evening, I went down to the wings to listen to the beginning of an
opera I didn’t know much about. There was a tenor standing just off
stage, accompanied by a harpist. He was warming up his voice by
taking very deep breaths and as he began to sing, I understood why.
In order to get his voice from off-stage, through the heavy, closed
stage curtains to the very back of the auditorium, he had to give his
voice a tremendous amount of welly. And boy did he go for it! His
voice had the power of a jet engine and I had to move back; it was
the biggest voice I have heard before or since and gave me a moment
in my life never-to-be- forgotten. Now we may not be big-chested,
Italian tenors, singing in opera houses but we all have voices that
have much more capacity than we use. We were all babies once and
produced a big sound that was necessary for our survival. The power
of that voice hasn’t gone away, we just need to refind it, nuture
it and help it to work for us to communicate well in our adult lives.
