Goody Two Shoes – Part 2

 

In my last post I wrote about Daisy Dormer and the pantomime, Goody Two Shoes, which had a 10-week season at the Prince’s Theatre, Park Row, Bristol in 1915-16. I mentioned the increasing influence of ‘moving pictures’ on the world of music hall as reflected in the pantomime dialogue and songs. Greater than the onset of picture houses and silent film stars was the ever-present fact of life – the war. It seems incredible that a visit to a pantomime was within contemplation during what we now know was a conflict of mass slaughter and misery, but theatrical life did go on. The Western Daily Press in their review of Goody Two Shoes commented:

‘…at this time, when the public is looking for clean, healthy fun to keep the balance with a very natural depression, this production provides a very proper antidote in the way of dramatic fare.’

Music hall artistes were keen to ‘do their bit’ towards the war effort and the theatrical press of the period is scattered with fundraising benefits for war funds; entertainments for the troops on the frontline and at home; and assisting with recruitment drives. The cast of Goody entertained wounded soldiers at the Bristol Constitutional Club in January 1916 and put on a special Red Cross matinee at the Prince’s in February:

‘The occasion was but another opportunity for the demonstrations of that generosity which characterises artists and public alike to do all that is possible for a cause which now particularly is so deserving.’
Western Daily Press, Wednesday 16 February 1916.

They also performed at the Beaufort War Hospital for veterans of France and Gallipoli. The former Bristol Lunatic Asylum had been hastily converted into a military hospital in April 1915 when other Bristol hospitals could not cope with the unprecedented number of war casualties. The local press reported on the event:

‘It was, indeed, good to see the whole-hearted enjoyment of the Colonial and home soldiers, and they deserved all the good there they had. In the front row there was a man who had been three times wounded. Perhaps there were others, because, alas! there has been all too much patching up…Of course, Miss Dormer and Miss Arundale found it far easier to get on the stage than to get off. “Shall we have another,” said the chairman, and the reply nearly took the roof off. Each of these delightful artistes sang three songs off the reel, and every bit of trouble of the audience was for the time, at any rate, safely packed up in the old kit bag.’
Western Daily Press, Friday 22 January 1916.

That review refers to the popular ‘hit’ of the day, ‘Pack Up Your Troubles in Your Old Kit Bag,’ which in August 1915 had won a competition by music publishers, Francis, Day & Hunter to compose a marching song. The song was rapidly gaining in popularity and by the end of the year many pantomimes featured it in their list of songs ‘secured by the management’ and advertised in the theatrical press for the panto season. It was sung in this production by the Principal Boy, Alan (Sybil Arundale), ‘a certain winner.’

Pack Up Your Troubles in Your Old Kit Bag

Song sheet courtesy of British Music Hall Society (www.britishmusichallsociety.com)

At this point in the panto plot, things were not going well for Goody and Alan; they quarrel under ‘The Trysting Tree’ and as an expression of their ‘troubles’, this is how the song was gently shoe-horned into the plot. A technique still used today to ease popular songs into a panto storyline however seemingly unconnected.

In the second scene of the panto, the Village of Blossomville, Daisy Dormer belted out ‘All the boys in khaki get the nice girls,’ a 1915 song by music hall songwriting stalwarts, Tom Mellor and Harry Gifford. It is a not very subtle recruitment song playing on the age-old sentiment that a woman cannot resist a man in uniform. The song is about ‘dandy’ Johnny Brown, whose refusal to join up leads to a lull in his romantic fortunes or in modern parlance, his ‘pulling power’. He is implored by a female recruiting sergeant:

John, John John put a bit of khaki on
And you’ll get the nice girls too!”
Maidens by the score,
Flappers galore!

The jaunty plea in the final verse:

When once they see you boy, shouldering up your gun
Twill be such fun, to use a gun
And your mother will be ever so proud of her great big son

feels very uncomfortable to a twenty-first century reader and the blithe spirit in which the words were sung.

When all the plot ends are tied up the whole company performed the rousing, ‘When We’ve Wound Up the Watch on the Rhine’, a song which had been successful in a 1915 revue at the London Hippodrome, ‘Business As Usual’, with the morale-raising chorus:

How we’ll sing, how we’ll sing Auld Lang Syne
You and I, ‘hurrah’ we’ll cry!
Everything will be fine
When we’ve wound up the watch on the Rhine.
We will toast new born Europe in wine
And the champagne of Rheims will be flowing in streams
When we’ve wound up the watch on the Rhine.

These songs portray a light-hearted view of the war far removed from the reality, suggesting that the horrors had not yet penetrated the consciousness of those at home. They were songs written in an earlier optimistic period which included Vesta Tilley’s ‘Your King and Country Want You’ with the refrain, ‘Oh! we don’t want to lose you but we think you ought to go’, brilliantly depicted in the Richard Attenborough/Joan Littlewood film, ‘Oh! What a Lovely War!’ . The sudden expansion of war hospitals such as that created at the Beaufort in Bristol and the increasing sight of wounded service personnel in towns and cities would soon alter that reality.

Romantic ballads of longing also featured aplenty in the panto including ‘You Were the First to Teach Me How to Love’ and ‘Underneath the Japanese Moon,’ mostly performed by the two female principals. Horace Mills as the Dame gave a hearty rendition of the Marie Lloyd favourite, ‘A Little Bit of What You Fancy Does You Good’ and ‘Sprinkle Me with Kisses’, a duet sang with Lupino Lane, was described as ‘lovely burlesque.’ Music hall and panto provided an escape from the grim realities of the day.

As for Daisy Dormer and the rest of the Goody Two Shoes cast, the end of the panto run on 4th March 1916 meant the end of a period of employment stability and the luxury of being in one place for a prolonged period of time. Then it was back on the road (or more properly, the railtracks). Daisy awarded herself a week off after completing in Bristol but for the week beginning 13th March, she was topping the bill at Moss Empire’s Grand, Birmingham. War or not, the show must go on.

Written with the support of a research award from the Society for Theatre Researchers – see here for details: http://www.str.org.uk

STR logo

Notes
The site of the Beaufort War Hospital is now occupied by the University of the West of England Faculty of Health and Social Care. The Glenside Hospital Museum is within the grounds where you can discover more about the Beaufort War Hospital www.glensidemuseum.org.uk.

‘Pack Up Your Troubles in Your Old Kit Bag’ was written by Welsh brothers George Henry Powell known as George Asaf (lyrics)and Felix Powell (music). It continues to be performed and was most recently popularised by Eliza Doolittle in her 2010 hit ‘Pack Up’.

You can listen to ‘All the boys in khaki get the nice girls’ here sung by FW Ramsey in 1915.

Thank you to the British Newspaper Archive and the University of Bristol Theatre Collection.

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Goody Two Shoes – Part 1

When I started this blog, I thought I would write far more about my paternal great great aunt, Daisy Dormer. She was the biggest ‘star’ in the family history and information about her is easy to come by. Instead, I got carried away with uncovering the mystery of some of the less famous turns, and found their lives more satisfying to research. However, a research award from The Society for Theatre Research sent me back down the path of Daisy; to that end I found myself at the Bristol University Theatre Collection in the beautiful old Vandyck Building on Park Row. Almost opposite that building (now an unprepossessing petrol station with a Costa coffee outlet) there once was a theatre – the Prince’s, a beautiful Victorian treasure designed by well-known theatre architect, CJ Phipps in 1867. And there in December 1915, Daisy Dormer played the Principal Girl, Goody, in a production of the pantomime, Goody Two Shoes.

For those of my generation, mention Goody Two Shoes and the lyrics ‘Don’t drink, don’t smoke, what do you do?…’ spring to mind, along with an image of Adam Ant posing and gyrating in his New Romantic splendour. For another, older generation, Goody Two Shoes was a familiar pantomime. It is little performed these days but in the late Victorian and early Edwardian period it was a staple of the pantomime scene, based on the nursery tale published in 1765 by John Newbery. Goody Two Shoes is a variation of the Cinderella story. Virtuous Goody works hard to better herself and comes into money – either through marriage or a surprise inheritance – proof that her virtuousness has been rewarded.

The original tale was given a pantomime twist and all the usual panto characters incorporated into the ever-evolving plot-line – Dame, Fairy, Demon, wicked Duke, wealthy would-be lover, love-lorn yokels and comedy double-act. Goody in this Bristol re-telling (written by RC Oldham, a scenic artist trying his hand at writing) is the winsome daughter of the widowed and poverty-stricken Mrs Tutt – cue the Dame. Goody is in love with the orphaned, penniless village carpenter, Alan – ‘the cleverest man with his hands the village has got’. However, Clarence, the hapless son of the wicked Duke of Improvidentia has her in his sights. Mrs Tutt comes into money by magic and lo! and behold it turns out that Alan is the rightful heir to the Duke, having been stolen by fairies and another infant (Clarence) put in his place. All is well that ends well!

The production opened at the Prince’s on 23rd December 1915 and ran for 10 weeks, with the final performances on Saturday 4th March 1916. The Stage review declared it ‘one of the best productions that it has of late years been our pleasure to notice’.

At this point in her career, Daisy Dormer was well-established and had been playing Principal Girl in pantomime since the turn of the century. By the time she came to Bristol, she had played the role of Goody five times. In fact, she had been playing Goody for the past two pantomime seasons in this very production. Those previous productions had been a great success at the Grand Theatre, Leeds and the Theatre Royal, Manchester. The Manchester Courier had gone as far as describing the production ‘as near to the ideal pantomime as most of us are ever likely to see’ . The leading characters had all been played by the same troupe of performers, with the exception of the Principal Boy (played by a woman as per convention), who had been portrayed by both Daisy Wood (sister of Marie Lloyd) and Ella Retford in Leeds and Manchester respectively. In this production, ‘legitimate’ actress Sybil Arundale (veteran of Shakespeare and Ibsen) took the breeches and thigh-slapping honours:

Sybil Arundale
Sybil Arundale, courtesy of Margaret Monod (www.intothelimelight.org)

Horace Mills, a panto Dame veteran played the widowed Mrs Tutt. Sam Walsh and Doris Lind reprised their Duke and Duchess of Improvidentia roles. And Clarence, the hapless Duke’s son was portrayed for the third year running by 23 year old Lupino Lane. Lane was born into a long-standing family of theatricals and had been honing his dancing and ‘indiarubber’ acrobatic skills onstage since the age of four:

Lupino Lane

Lupino Lane, courtesy of the British Music Hall Society archive (www.britishmusichallsociety.com)

Goody Two Shoes had not been seen at the Prince’s before so the time was ripe for John Hart’s production to move lock, stock and barrel to Bristol with a few topical and local references and updated songs thrown in for good measure.

In an interesting juxtaposition, at the same time Daisy was appearing on stage in panto, a silent film she had made earlier that year for Vaudefilms, Potted Pantomimes (directed by WP Kellino), was on general release and being shown at Picture Houses throughout the country. Daisy wasn’t alone amongst the cast in trying their skills in this new world of moving pictures. Lupino Lane had made his first foray into film earlier that year and the script of Goody Two Shoes made frequent reference to this coming craze. When Daisy’s and Lupino’s characters first meet (in The Village of Blossomville, where else?):

Clarence: I say, this is a rotten hole! Why, you haven’t even a picture-house! How ever do you manage to exist?
Goody: A picture-house! What’s that?
Clarence: Never seen a picture-house? It’s where they have the moving pictures. Oh, I love them! – all cowboys and Red Indians, and burning houses, and dogs rescuing little girls from express trains. And there’s always a motor car, and then a lot of people chase it, and a detective finds out the man who looks like an actor has been lured to a big castle, with hundreds of rooms in it, by the Black Spot gang.
Goody: It must be very exciting.
Clarence: “Rather! I say”

In that exchange the future was set: the excitement and fascination with the moving image would eventually kill off their kind of live performance.

The craze was just beginning. In Bristol in December 1915, Picture Houses were on the rise providing stiff competition for live theatre. Advertising in the local press for December were the Zetland Picture House, Triangle Picture Hall, Coliseum Picture Theatre and the Cheltenham Road cinema. Clarence’s summary of moving pictures is nicely drawn: the fare on show in Bristol reflected that list: The Ticket of Leave Man, ‘the well-known drama of prison life’; The Swell Marksmen, ‘a drama of crime mystery and narrow escapes’; Human Hound’s Triumph, The Husband Who Showed Up and Lizzie Breaks into the Harem need no further tagline. Charlie Chaplin comedies were showing at the Coliseum Picture Theatre – Chaplin had signed a cinema contract in 1913, left his music hall days behind and was well on the way to becoming the greatest star on earth. Goody Two Shoes featured a popular hit song, ‘That Charlie Chaplin Walk,’ a foxtrot performed by Lupino Lane, with the chorus:

It doesn’t matter everywhere you go
Watch ’em coming out of any cinema show
Shuffling along, they’re acting like a rabbit
When you’ve seen Charlie Chaplin, you can’t help but get the habit
First they stumble over both their feet
Swing their sticks and look up and down the street
Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers
All your wife’s relations and half a dozen others
In London, Paris and New York
Everybody does that Charlie Chaplin walk.

Lupino Lane’s imitation of Chaplin was described as ‘certainly by far the best that has been done in Bristol’.  It is more than likely that the young Lupino Lane had been on the same stages as Chaplin in his earlier music hall days.

Moving pictures could be seen for as little as 3d (around £1.35 in today’s money) and often included a cup of tea, whereas panto tickets at the Prince’s started at 4d, with the best seats at 3s (around £16.50). From their introduction in the late 1890s, films had been regularly appearing on music hall bills as an end of evening novelty.  Gradually they were moving into their own domain and providing a cheaper and what seemed a more innovative form of entertainment for the masses. The days of the music hall artiste were numbered.

Written with the support of a research award from the Society for Theatre Researchers – see here for details: www.str.org.uk

STR logo

Notes
The Prince’s Theatre, Park Row, Bristol was originally called the Theatre Royal. Frank Matcham made alterations to the CJ Phipps design in 1884 and 1902, and a name change was made. It was destroyed during a bombing raid in 1940.

The John Hart/RC Oldham production lived another season – the following year it was back to the Grand Theatre Leeds, for the ‘revival’ show, with Daisy playing Goody once again with Lupino Lane and Horace Mills.

Lupino Lane continued life in pantomime, revue and film. He became a household name in the 1930s when he took the part of Bill Snibson first in Twenty to One (a musical farce) and then in the Noel Gay musical, Me and My Girl, which featured the catchy dance tune, ‘The Lambeth Walk’.

 

Don’t Put Your Daughter on the Stage, Mrs Worthington!

Whilst my great grandmother Violet was visiting Liverpool in 1912 and was subject to a “deplorable error” by the Liverpool City police (see my last blog post), she was the mother of a four year old daughter – my grandmother, Norah.

Norah was born on 22 January 1908 in Kennington Park Road, Lambeth. Where was Norah when all of the Liverpool commotion was going on? How did theatricals constantly on the move and with no fixed abode manage their children?

As to where Norah was – she was more than likely with her maternal grandmother in Ash Vale, a village in Surrey. Her grandmother brought her up, so time spent with her parents between theatrical engagements was rare and precious. Violet and Larry’s traversing of the British Isles (and Empire) to perform showed no signs of slowing down after Norah’s birth. Violet’s photo album contains this dog-eared photograph of Norah, with the words, “ My darling baby” written across the front:

Young Norah Lewis

One gets the feeling that this photo was frequently handled and wistfully gazed upon by Violet, as she travelled from one venue to the next.
Norah attended the local school in Ash Vale and at the age of 8, in 1916, was sent away to Godwin Girls’ College in Cliftonville (at that time an exclusive area to the east of Margate, Kent). An unusual choice, given at that time the Kent coast was under bombardment by Zeppelins.

The theatrical press were full of advertisements for educational establishments, mainly small private boarding schools, promoting their services for “Daughters of Artistes and Members of the Profession”. These home schools were more often than not run by a Clergyman’s Daughter (married) and offering a “Mother’s Loving Care and thorough education”. Or run by an unmarried Miss. Such schools were often located on the South Coast – Margate, Herne Bay, Brighton – fresh air and a sea breeze being deemed essential to a healthy and good education.

The Stage Apr 1925 Educational ads

The Stage, 25 April 1912

An advert from the Sheffield Daily Telegraph of 6 March 1913 advertises Godwin Girls’ College thus:

Advert Godwin Girls' College 1913

Although Larry and Violet prospered financially in their early years ‘on the Halls’, it has always been understood that it was extremely successful Aunt Daisy Dormer who paid the school fees. Aunt Daisy supposedly supported both Norah and her cousin, Michael Gardner (son of Norah Stockelle, the third of the performing Stockwell sisters) who attended Cliftonville College for Boys, a similar set up to that of Godwin Girls College.

So what did the “good modern education” promised to Norah comprise of? In traditional boarding school cliche, there seemed to be a lot of “Games” – hockey and cricket played on the school sports field. There was also lawn tennis, with tournaments at the nearby Westgate-on-Sea tennis club. With Palm Bay right opposite the school, presumably much was made of the coastal setting. Below is a photograph of Norah (centre) on the beach with some friends, Doris and Marjorie, school regulation gym slips on:

Doris, Norah and Marjorie

I like to think that Norah and friends might have run into the path of TS Elliot, staying at the next door Albermarle Hotel in the autumn of 1921 to convalesce and scribbling away at The Waste Land. Maybe Norah, Doris and Marjorie skipped off to ride the scenic railway at Dreamland, to a concert at the Winter Gardens or a play at the Theatre Royal. Margate was certainly not short of diversions and distractions for young gals at boarding school.

There was also much school drama and music at Godwin Girls’ College and in a later advert from the 1930s, music was described as ‘a speciality’. Norah became an accomplished pianist whilst there. During the school holidays, she would act as accompanist to a rehearsing Aunt Daisy. T. S. Elliot influenced or not, Norah loved literature and was awarded the school 1924-25 English Prize, a collection of Tennyson’s Poems.

Here is a photo of Norah and friends (possibly Doris and Marjorie again) engaging in some school girl dramatics:

School girl dramatics

In being sent away to school, Norah fared better than many theatrical offspring and had an atypical experience. Many were toured around the country with parents, changing schools as often as their parents changed venues, spending most of their waking hours backstage at the theatre and often being incorporated into the family act as juvenile performers. Prior to an element of compulsion being introduced to school attendance (it was not until 1918 that full-time education to the age of 14 became the general rule in England and Wales), many never made it to school. Hetty King, a male impersonator, best remembered for the song, All the Nice Girls Love a Sailor, tells in her Desert Island Discs of concealing herself under her mother’s crinoline skirts to hide from the school board man, known to tour theatres looking for pupils in order to enforce attendance rules. Mary Pickford, the American silent movie star, who was from a Vaudeville family, recounted learning to read from the hoardings on the side of rail road trucks.

Larry and Violet were keen to educate Norah and to ensure a life away from the insecurity of the theatre, they knew “the profession is overcrowded and the struggle’s pretty tough” as outlined by Noel Coward in his song, Don’t Put Your Daughter on the Stage Mrs Worthington. Like many a theatrical parent then and since, they had hopes that Norah would prosper in a different world. However, the allure of the stage was too much and ‘showbiz’ was already in the bloodstream as by 1928 Norah was already treading the boards having successfully auditioned for the Palladium pantomime as a chorus girl. Had her good, modern education been wasted or had it given her the confidence to take on the challenge and the relentless demands of a theatrical life?

Violet and the Deplorable Error

Violet Stockwell

My Great Grandmother Violet

In October 1912, my great grandparents, Larry and Violet were in Liverpool. The previous three weeks had seen them performing in Glasgow, Belfast and Dublin under contract to Moss Tours Ltd. Although they often managed to appear on the bill at the same theatre, they were never a double act, their turns being very different. Now Larry alone had a week at the Olympia on West Derby Road; Violet is not recorded in theatrical ‘Calls’ for that week but she certainly accompanied Larry for his week in Liverpool. Topping the bill at the Olympia was ‘lovely, lively Lily Langtry’, not the more famous actress known as ‘The Jersey Lily’ rumoured to be a mistress of Edward VII, but another by the same name. She was a serio-comedienne (a performer with a mix of comic and serious songs interspersed with a bit of patter) with an act not dissimilar to that of Violet. Lily was the bigger ‘name’ and the managers of the theatrical circuits were ruthless as to the composition of their bill; they didn’t need two women touting the same sort of turn, so this might be why Larry and Violet were not both employed for that week.

There was another reason to be in Lancashire that week – Violet’s sister, ‘Dainty Daisy Dormer’ was performing at the Argyle Theatre, just across the Mersey in Birkenhead. A chance to catch up with her older sister perhaps? But also a chance to catch up with some other performers and theatricals and for Violet to see what else was on offer in the world of entertainment. In that week of 21 October, Liverpool and Birkenhead were abuzz with theatrical diversity: La Boheme was at the Royal Hippodrome; “Hamlet” at the Shakespeare Theatre; the musical comedy “Miss Hook of Holland” at the new Theatre Royal, Birkenhead. And at the Birkenhead Hippodrome, Mr Charles Harrington’s No. 1 Company were presenting Harriet Beecher Stowe’s “Uncle Tom’s Cabin”. Variety fare was available at the Empire and the Pavilion. Violet would have been spoilt for choice, the Liverpool Evening Express described the week as ‘A Star Week in Liverpool’.

On the night of Tuesday 22nd October, Violet was making her way along London Road, the main City thoroughfare. I like to think she had been to see one of the above performances and was on her way back to her theatrical digs. En route she was stopped and questioned by two police constables from Liverpool City Police, Harry Greenwood and Arthur Northwick. They mistook her for a prostitute. I cannot be certain how far the “mistake” went and whether Violet accompanied them to the police station but I do know that Violet was outraged. Solicitors were instructed forthwith to clear her name.

By Friday of that week Robert Quilliam of Quilliam & Son solicitors had procured an apology by way of letter from Liverpool City Police. Here is that letter, addressed to Mrs Larry Lewis (Violet was keen to establish the fact of her married status) at the Empire Theatre, Liverpool:

Liverpool City Police let 25 Oct 1912
You will note the apology for the ‘mistake we made with regard to yourself on Tuesday night last in London Road’ and the acknowledgement that ‘our action was the result of a deplorable error and quite unjustified’. The apology was to be published in The Liverpool Express, The Era and The Encore. I have spent many hours poring over microfiches at the British Library as well as in the British Newspaper Library online, in pursuit of those apologies. I have not been able to trace them. I feel certain they must be there somewhere as the Violet I am getting to know through my research would not let this slip. An arrest could have spelt the end of her career, particularly at a time when music hall syndicate managers were desperate to encourage the middle classes to their ‘respectable’ halls. In July of 1912 the first Royal Command Performance had been held at the Palace Theatre in London before King George V and Queen Mary – respectability for the music halls was within touching distance. It is no surprise that Violet wanted the apology broadcast far and wide, before the theatrical gossip mill got working.

If I had a £1 for every time I have told someone of my music hall relatives, and they have made a retort about prostitution, I would be a wealthy woman. I would smile through the slur although admit to feeling slighted on behalf of those ancestors. So it was something of a surprise to see evidence amongst the family papers that my great grandmother had in fact had this accusation made against her. Combined with (more often than not) their working class background, the assumption that a woman who is onstage must be “up for it”, and looking to make an extra wage from something other than her performance is age old, but particularly amongst females in the music hall world.

In the Ripper Street TV series we witnessed the progression of Rose Erskine from life as one of Long Susan’s ladies to the music hall stage. That series is well-researched and it is probably true that the Halls were a realistic escape route from a darker world of prostitution. It has been said that Hannah Chaplin, the mother of Charlie, supplemented her stage income through prostitution. It is not as if society at that time was favourably disposed to supporting and promoting opportunities for women. The development of women’s rights and emancipation still felt a long way off. Whatever Violet was doing on London Road on that fateful night was soon forgotten – it was onto the Salford Regent for the next week’s engagement.

Notes
The Olympia designed by renowned theatre architect Frank Matcham, where Larry was performing that week is still an active venue. See their website here: http://www.liverpoololympia.com

The Argyle, Birkenhead where Daisy Dormer was performing was destroyed by fire in September 1940 during an air raid.

 

A January Wedding – Larry and Violet

Larry and Violet Oval

Mr Larry Lewis and Miss Violet Stockelle

In January 1906, one hundred and ten years ago, my great grandmother Violet Stockelle married Larry Lewis in the Gorbals district of Glasgow.  The marriage took place on 3rd January, just five minutes away from the Royal Princess’s Theatre (now the Citizen’s Theatre) where Larry was appearing as the Mysterious Stranger in the pantomime Simple Simon. That panto ran until the end of January 1906 so it is more than likely Larry and Violet popped along to the Sheriff’s office on Nicholson Street, taking two witnesses with them, adjourned to a local pub to celebrate and Larry returned to the theatre for the 7.30pm performance that night.

Souvenir programme cover Simple Simon Glasgow 1905-06 (2)

“Simple Simon” Royal Princess’s Theatre 1905-06 Glasgow

Larry was 25 and Violet 20. I had a romantic notion that Violet and Larry may have met and fallen in love in Glasgow that pantomime season, but I can find no trace as to where Violet was performing that Winter.  Although I have discovered that Larry appeared in pantomime in previous seasons with future sister-in-law Daisy Dormer, and it seems more than likely that it was Daisy who introduced her sister to this mysterious stranger.

The two witnesses to the marriage were Harry Taylor, described as a ‘comedian’ on the marriage certificate, and Jane Riddell (who I can’t identify). Harry Taylor was also in Simple Simon and together with Mr James Ross were “an energetic pair of knockabouts, who are always in the thick of the fun”. Harry Taylor had been in one of the Fred Karno companies (a training ground for Charlie Chaplin and Stan Laurel) so he was well-schooled in the art of knockabout. Another significant name in the cast, described as a new recruit to panto at the Princess’s, was Jack Lorimar, the father of Max Wall. He played the bell boy Saunders M’Rory and received excellent notices in The Era:

He was one of the decided successes of the first night, and his various eccentric songs and dances and the pawky humour of his catchwords he uses took the fancy of the audience right away

Although we don’t have footage of Jack Lorimar in his eccentric songs and dances we know that Max Wall continued the eccentric dancing tradition with his Professor Wallofski character, a huge influence later to the Pythons and their Ministry of Silly Walks.

Larry too was well-received by The Era:

Mr Larry Lewis as the Mysterious Stranger, played with much mock dramatic emphasis, and was also of much value to the cast. He gave a clever song, Monotony, with much point.

Later in 1906, Violet and Larry travelled by steamer for Australia to fulfil a series of engagements there for the impresario Harry Rickards. In their first year of marriage they travelled to Sydney, Melbourne and mining towns in Western Australia and were away for nearly a year. I know that they called in at the Talma Photographic Studios in Melbourne (119 Swanston Street) as I have a number of photographs taken there, some of which are shown below. In 1907 Talma was a leading Australian photographic portrait studio for theatricals and wealthier patrons.

 

Welcome to Music Hall Alice!

Silver Jubilee Music Hall with friends

Silver Jubilee Music Hall with friends

My Grandma had been an actress and dancer.  Her mother, father, aunts and uncles had all been on the Music Hall stage. Visits to Grandma as a child always involved some element of sing-a- long or musical recital – whether it be Grandma on the piano, my sister on the violin or Uncle Paul on his guitar.  Grandma would bash out the old tunes – My Old Man, Daisy Bell, I’m Henry VIII I am I am.  I was bewitched and would happily sing along. She died when I was 10 years old but the memories and the melodies linger on.  This blog is an exploration of that now largely forgotten era – an era before the advent of television and the TV talent contest; an era when a Portsmouth docker’s daughter with daydreams of theatrical stardom could – with a good song or comic lines, some talent and a fancy costume – travel the length and breadth of the UK performing that turn, and even to the far out reaches of the British Empire, South Africa and Australia.  This blog is an exploration of the people and places on that journey from Portsmouth and beyond.