When I was a girl in the Kansas City suburb of Prairie Village, Kansas, we studied state history while tiptoeing lightly around two of the most interesting characters: Carrie Nation and John Brown.

Nation, who took her tomahawk into saloons and smashed liquor bottles, could be giggled over; Kansas was still dry then, but our parents all made regular trips to Happy Hollow Liquors, right on the Missouri side of State Line Road, or Berbiglia, a little further to the east. Brown, in the very worst kind of prophetic tradition, was responsible for the murder of five men dragged from their beds and stabbed to death with short cavalry swords at Pottawatomie Creek, and for other deaths uncounted. That’s no laughing matter.

For me, the mural in the State Capitol building in Topeka has the essence of John Brown: a long gun in one hand, a Bible in the other, with his Old Testament beard, flames in his eyes and on the horizon behind him. He’s an important figure in the history of the state, the region and the country — but hardly a hero.

He’s a hero to composer Kirke Mechem, however, whose opera “John Brown” is currently playing in its world premiere run at Lyric Opera of Kansas city. I saw it on Monday night; a slightly abbreviated version of my review ran in Wednesday’s Post-Dispatch. Here’s the whole thing:

KANSAS CITY – Bringing a new opera to the stage is an expensive proposition in terms of time, energy, creativity and, of course, money. When a small company like Lyric Opera of Kansas City makes that kind of commitment, it is to be commended.

As a subject, Kirke Mechem’s “John Brown,” seen Monday night at the Lyric Theater, has strong local resonance. “Osawatamie Brown” helped spill the blood of “Bleeding Kansas” in the pro- and anti-slavery fights of the 1850s, before leading a failed assault on the federal armory in Harper’s Ferry, Virginia. Mechem, who wrote both the libretto and music, has kept most things pretty close to the historical record.

His music is tonal and lyrical, and makes frequent use of 19th century hymnody. Mechem understands voices, and gave the chorus some choice moments. Still, few of the tunes – besides the hymns –stay in the ear.

While “John Brown” gets off to a good start, it soon bogs down. We see the preludes to, and aftermaths of, Brown’s gory deeds, but it’s more historic pageant than grand opera. And, at three draggy acts, it’s desperately in need of cutting.

Mechem casts the fanatical, violent Brown as a hero of literally Biblical proportions: he is compared first to Moses, then to David (in his hiding-from-Saul phase), and then to Christ. The end of the opera, with its explicit parallels to Gethsemene and Calvary, is eye-rollingly far from that historic record.

Director Kristine McIntyre has done what she could with this static, expository opera. Near the end, she goes over the top, with Virginians burning an American flag in a distasteful anachronism.

“John Brown” has some strong performances, especially from rich-voiced baritone Donnie Ray Albert as the charismatic Frederick Douglass and soprano Vanessa Thomas as the wife of a slave. Thomas stepped from the wings, sang a touching aria with a beautiful, perfectly produced voice, and then stepped back, in one of the opera’s strongest moments.

Baritone James Maddalena, an original member of director Peter Sellers’ stable of singers, sang well and acted strongly in the title role, but was hobbled by the limitations of Mechem’s vision. Tenor Patrick Miller, who sang Nanki-Poo in “The Mikado” at Opera Theatre of St. Louis last year, was sweet-voiced and sincere as Brown’s son Ollie.

Jennifer Aylmer, as Ollie’s sweetheart, has a clear and lovely soprano, but suffered from some intonation problems on Monday night. There was good work from most of the supporting cast, particularly mezzo-soprano Holly White as Annie Brown and David Gagnon as a cocky future Confederate general, J.E.B. Stuart.

R. Keith Brumley’s sets were simple but effective; the “native limestone” wall that divided the front of the stage from the back was a nice touch. Artistic director Ward Holmquist kept things together in the pit; the orchestra sometimes covered the singers.