On a wish and a dream
Dorothy Lees-Blakey: “I put one foot in front of the other and I keep on going.”
When you walk into Dorothy Lees-Blakey’s charming apartment you know you are in the home of a Renaissance woman.
There is evidence of her theatrical flair everywhere.
In the corner there’s a piano, grand in every way. Music, all of it by Lees-Blakey, spills off the edge of the piano seat.
Down the hall, in a cluttered office, a busy computer is banked by piles of paper, some covered in hastily scrawled fragments of poems.
On the walls, as you pass from room to room, posters from past Lees-Blakey productions cause you to stop and look.
There’s “Heidi” and “Pride and Prejudice” to remind you this woman is a lyricist, composer and author.
On a side table Lees-Blakey’s image peeks out from a photograph, surrounded by a young cast from one of her translated farces by French playwright George Feydeau.
The woman herself, small and attractive, has eyes that dance. She’s a Lancashire lass through and through, but you won’t hear a touch of Gracie Fields’ broad accent.
“I was made to take elocution lessons when I was a child. My mother wanted that defining accent to disappear.”
Listen to Lees-Blakey now and you hear a trace of Edith Piaf. When she speaks there’s excitement in her voice.
There’s also years of teaching and studying French that add a warm burr.
Emigrating to Canada with her husband Brian in 1969, Bolton-born Lees-Blakey is English to her core. Like so many of us she’s weathered success and defeat. But like “The Unsinkable Molly Brown,” who survived the Titanic, she “ain’t down yet.”
You realize immediately she’s a romantic at heart. Who else but a romantic would write a song called “I Want A Man Who Brings Me Roses?”
And yes, it would take a romantic to make a musical of Jane Austen’s no nonsense novel “Pride and Prejudice.” Lees-Blakey’s version is as full of passion as Rodgers and Hammerstein’s “Carousel.”
At “a certain age” you might think she would be ready to let go of unfulfilled dreams. Well, you’d be wrong. She wants her work in front of the public. And she’s still fighting to have it produced in Hamilton or Toronto.
“Don’t ask how old I am, even my grandchildren don’t know,” she says shaking a finger.
“Whatever age I am, there’s a lot more in me yet. It’s time something big happened here. I’m still dreaming and hoping.”
So far, the big things have been a staged reading of her musical “Pride and Prejudice” by Theatre Aquarius in 1986. And a full-scale production of the piece was finally given in 2003 at Ridge Theatre in Victoria.
There was also a production of her delightful children’s musical “Heidi, The Girl On The Mountain” at Huron Country Playhouse in 1990 and an expanded version at Chemainus Theatre on Victoria Island as well as one at La Bottega d’Europa in Rome in 2005.
“Love In A Minor Key,” a musical revue of items from her song catalogue was put together by Willard Boudreau and performed at Hamilton Place Studio Theatre by The Players’ Guild in 2004.
There have also been various productions of her symphonic tale, “The Pied Piper” performed by orchestras across Canada, as well as in Auckland, New Zealand, from 1999 to 2001.
Her original setting of “The Lord’s Prayer” was first sung for The Queen and Royal Family at Crathie Kirk near Balmoral Castle.
Still working and creating, three months ago, Lees-Blakey published “Heartsong: My Life in Lyric and Verse,” a work that tells her life story through her poems, songs and autobiographical anecdotes.
“In a way it sums things up,” she smiles. “Though there’s always the possibility of a sequel.” A tiny grin creases the corners of her mouth and she erupts into a full-blown laugh. But there’s a serious side here, too. “I feel in some senses I’ve failed,” Lees-Blakey says matter-of-factly. “I acted on television shows from ‘The Beachcombers’ to ‘Home Fires.’ I did ‘Private Lives’ and ‘Robin Hood’ at Theatre Aquarius. But for every opportunity that came my way I turned my back and walked away. I had two children to care for. Brian Blakey, the love of my life, passed away in 1979. He was 49. That’s far too young. I didn’t know what to do, but I knew he would want me to use my gifts to celebrate him and to keep going.”
“I found myself gravitating to teaching. I knew I could act, but I didn’t want to live in big cities. And I didn’t want to traipse round the country with my children. I chose stability, I suppose. I let things go. I think that means I didn’t want a career badly enough. I guess I came to the conclusion I couldn’t do everything.”
Whatever Lees-Blakey does she pours her heart and soul into it. It’s as if she’s compelled to make it perfect.
She sits quietly for a moment, then raises her voice as if she suddenly thought of something serious.
“You’re right,” she says, looking right at me. “You’ve got to push and I didn’t. I don’t think I believed in myself enough.
“I went back to teaching to be sure there would be a pension. And I loved the teaching, don’t get me wrong. But in some ways it was letting go of chances. In some ways it was about accepting that you’ve got to survive.”
She’s not remarried. “But you know he would have wanted me to,” she shrugs. “But unless it’s real love it wouldn’t be for me. I could have lived in sin, I suppose, but I’m a Methodist.”
She laughs. And there it is, restorative laughter again.
“I think I’m blessed with a positive attitude. I never descend to despair. Am I a tough person? I don’t think so, though some people say that I am. I’m like that other Dorothy; the one on the Yellow Brick Road. I put one foot in front of the other and I keep on going.”
So why did Lees-Blakey write her story and interpolate it between lyrics and verses she has written since she was a small child?
“I suppose I hoped people would read it and be inspired. I think it says we all have disappointments, but we have to pick ourselves up and get going. Someday someone will read my book, and without ever having known me will find me in these pages and will know who I really am. I think people will come in touch with their own memories, not just mine.
“I think I’ve always been stage struck. The name Dorothy means Gift of God. So, you see, I have to keep going.”