tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89352977058461118012024-03-18T23:07:34.264-07:00Kurt of GerolsteinMY DIARY: Kurt GänzlGEROLSTEINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08446253124724430879noreply@blogger.comBlogger1468125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8935297705846111801.post-43407703684281914372024-03-16T22:33:00.000-07:002024-03-16T22:38:27.506-07:00And the lights all went on in San Francisco ....<p> </p><p>The Baldwin Theatre, San Franciso, 25 May 1884. Souvenir night. This card was given to each member of the night's audience</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-_xatzqrhoWr-_dfRImbESeqOfqg7iekfyrvIlCsUeEsCnyzWkRG0dWMqvWNqxs3V28KCZfgKkEnilJoqcyomGJI5RWsK8jOLaXdBg5t7pzAUO5rqF_PISJQjokIKLBXEnfOsRIE4p9exJm3Pd69KcxRKy63qkdGSgqHjgDymVjuuIFEKRDZ7ZO57TWU/s640/s-l960.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-_xatzqrhoWr-_dfRImbESeqOfqg7iekfyrvIlCsUeEsCnyzWkRG0dWMqvWNqxs3V28KCZfgKkEnilJoqcyomGJI5RWsK8jOLaXdBg5t7pzAUO5rqF_PISJQjokIKLBXEnfOsRIE4p9exJm3Pd69KcxRKy63qkdGSgqHjgDymVjuuIFEKRDZ7ZO57TWU/w400-h300/s-l960.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">25 May 1884</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Abe Erlanger had his company's auditorium photographed by the new flash photography ... </p><p>Abe was (in the days bwefore he became truly tentacled) the representant of George S Knight who played, this night, in the broad Germanspeak comedy <i>Otto, </i>with his wife, the former Sophie Worrell. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4uEF1P1qjM2oGAyL3VmbDIK7bO2TvIQ9zGONeDSFdCBWCPLDh5oN0xw572ZHXgL01hMFEHOpkF3nqlWSAD5VgctM-M8kxS3Jc0CkZu0fmDlvddTJMO1OUoT6VLmXiO6V023XPRkSLlMvKkl7bEsKflika0i3NUHVeqUv_UwhZqWfsmp364lx0XbPrdJs/s245/DAC18840425.1.8-1012-1900-980-341-245w.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="85" data-original-width="245" height="139" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4uEF1P1qjM2oGAyL3VmbDIK7bO2TvIQ9zGONeDSFdCBWCPLDh5oN0xw572ZHXgL01hMFEHOpkF3nqlWSAD5VgctM-M8kxS3Jc0CkZu0fmDlvddTJMO1OUoT6VLmXiO6V023XPRkSLlMvKkl7bEsKflika0i3NUHVeqUv_UwhZqWfsmp364lx0XbPrdJs/w400-h139/DAC18840425.1.8-1012-1900-980-341-245w.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqPcq2Z_ScoEb9lH07Z-HwvQeEHcJ3W0yjl-GbKBfKy_WLVdlQMOTIN7Ho8rEFpVxWZg79jZmjytfuQpMw3ov6fD4Ja4kiPZb-aOXxX1Wo58zF1GfcM6d8tV9vzk0vaU5OkmPH7z5KEqAIz3usfzLU_DdqxmAm5om5bJ78oHwGGes4V2VG_rEMkz9WUM4/s277/DAC18840426.1.8-4794-2004-1109-889-277w.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="222" data-original-width="277" height="321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqPcq2Z_ScoEb9lH07Z-HwvQeEHcJ3W0yjl-GbKBfKy_WLVdlQMOTIN7Ho8rEFpVxWZg79jZmjytfuQpMw3ov6fD4Ja4kiPZb-aOXxX1Wo58zF1GfcM6d8tV9vzk0vaU5OkmPH7z5KEqAIz3usfzLU_DdqxmAm5om5bJ78oHwGGes4V2VG_rEMkz9WUM4/w400-h321/DAC18840426.1.8-4794-2004-1109-889-277w.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><i><br /></i><p></p><div>The owner of our card ('Miss L ?N C') seems to have been more interested in Mr & Mrs Young, managing editor of the <i>San Francisco Chronicle</i>, in their box .. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPG7fFWOvkaUOZ714dGEGAfL81tNJLFGN5l4fKk8903TGZ5lLrQRCqIFX8sY3nSL1lEW0by5JqowGdlwkUnZm_R2WZuoThM-cg7zkx1MTNl4JjVt849vRVntarN68Gq2zuOfcQuU86JmbACJUiwroBFl9QiObfLKoh02Mf2wkAT92nlQVZ3po1Gng2R9Y/s640/s-l1600.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPG7fFWOvkaUOZ714dGEGAfL81tNJLFGN5l4fKk8903TGZ5lLrQRCqIFX8sY3nSL1lEW0by5JqowGdlwkUnZm_R2WZuoThM-cg7zkx1MTNl4JjVt849vRVntarN68Gq2zuOfcQuU86JmbACJUiwroBFl9QiObfLKoh02Mf2wkAT92nlQVZ3po1Gng2R9Y/w480-h640/s-l1600.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM6Ki3QGxIFbhOYo5iNn9G-hLEvm4VlU5C1lt0-AdEtJze9LO35iB51pLExesW8Bnb6OKuzx8Kws6AHT4RxHsa-uh1QNWYE4YjToEGd6eamirNJN-SuRtfjMy-ncK_BLU00b5EOyFIglq5gCB8BJ_0rftHLOIynCgLnb9iULYspyV3P_Spfs1m3AeXjKs/s500/3f0387d6a2a637c7da1f3604a529d8d3.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="500" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM6Ki3QGxIFbhOYo5iNn9G-hLEvm4VlU5C1lt0-AdEtJze9LO35iB51pLExesW8Bnb6OKuzx8Kws6AHT4RxHsa-uh1QNWYE4YjToEGd6eamirNJN-SuRtfjMy-ncK_BLU00b5EOyFIglq5gCB8BJ_0rftHLOIynCgLnb9iULYspyV3P_Spfs1m3AeXjKs/w400-h295/3f0387d6a2a637c7da1f3604a529d8d3.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Played alternately with <i>Otto</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRFtBQgQrg2NFQxoHbeel0p9m_zArxCvOf4BxP5w7yCXbjiykm6g584cVt8ofN9Ap2cL0LZPLcfSUGFetBl0NE9j-zG38rhUzNJKTIQ99-4eUh7nRMv6K66DPuvDg5GvD9YJaQQaOKWFKmfAacjikjdG0cTNJqDPnOXYJgtT8NKP1bdQVQKcpfJNWWUog/s999/15e3184ca6877c74b9ab7e5264394ef3.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="999" data-original-width="999" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRFtBQgQrg2NFQxoHbeel0p9m_zArxCvOf4BxP5w7yCXbjiykm6g584cVt8ofN9Ap2cL0LZPLcfSUGFetBl0NE9j-zG38rhUzNJKTIQ99-4eUh7nRMv6K66DPuvDg5GvD9YJaQQaOKWFKmfAacjikjdG0cTNJqDPnOXYJgtT8NKP1bdQVQKcpfJNWWUog/w400-h400/15e3184ca6877c74b9ab7e5264394ef3.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLSibQZfQxE7k6EPTHhkGpyKNidjFuT_ChRKB3QS5ExwiX_ALw9f9Gxu36e2pBl3_oDCCgekVwgwAKX2KCAvx2xj-ZTSHGuGDF3n_wYNUm9jh7XOSdXttDreob1XLhYZAwD4PGVJxTFsYD3t2nwTAafTAcCMhfdFlpRzHt1go2QybZihLa08sEqgbKStM/s269/images.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="269" data-original-width="187" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLSibQZfQxE7k6EPTHhkGpyKNidjFuT_ChRKB3QS5ExwiX_ALw9f9Gxu36e2pBl3_oDCCgekVwgwAKX2KCAvx2xj-ZTSHGuGDF3n_wYNUm9jh7XOSdXttDreob1XLhYZAwD4PGVJxTFsYD3t2nwTAafTAcCMhfdFlpRzHt1go2QybZihLa08sEqgbKStM/w445-h640/images.jpeg" width="445" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqUy7BpTtVYIOm6roVz7XbxdgfI9D8IZX35mdpuyO0fmcolPd1C0ob4LIq3FgP7Sj36lV1_BouFfT2Y2RklldeGQXZRrNwliQ-grtcyQBxduF71vx0wWJemkeeufIw5vDq9_2dMKuLXBYBvuYP1-pdiqqwlRqwxDr7AdOkKxcBGP_ITnsckDqygziTtOk/s500/Worrell,%20S.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="375" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqUy7BpTtVYIOm6roVz7XbxdgfI9D8IZX35mdpuyO0fmcolPd1C0ob4LIq3FgP7Sj36lV1_BouFfT2Y2RklldeGQXZRrNwliQ-grtcyQBxduF71vx0wWJemkeeufIw5vDq9_2dMKuLXBYBvuYP1-pdiqqwlRqwxDr7AdOkKxcBGP_ITnsckDqygziTtOk/w480-h640/Worrell,%20S.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div>So .. a rare bit of ephemera .. 'this night only' ... nice.</div>GEROLSTEINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08446253124724430879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8935297705846111801.post-27971059164254136232024-03-15T13:27:00.000-07:002024-03-15T13:27:08.677-07:00Goodbye, dear old friends ... or, Picassi venditi ..<p> </p><p>Facebook. Post ...</p><p><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: times;">GOODBYE FAITHFUL OLD FRIENDS ....</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505;">For fifty years and more I've lived with three lovely pieces of Picasso pottery, bought by Ian from the artist himself in Vallauris in the 1950s. They have travelled from Nice to Mayfair to St Paul de Vence to my farmlet in New Zealand .. and survived unscathed ... the cats have been very courteous to them .. but ... I suddenly had an urge to part with them. They really don't belong in a Kiwi farmhouse. And all Kiwis are suffering from the deprivation willed on us by the Witch of the South, the Baroness Ardern. So I took my whisky in my hand and sent off an email. Thus, today an Art Courier collects the family treasures and takes them to Auckland, where they will be auctioned ...</span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505;"> </span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: times;">Gone.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: times;">Kevin the art transporter came with his huge lorry, stuffed with artwork, and loads of bubblewrap and I poured another whisky ...</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF2LznNHxZ3pLbw0WM4v55USHEXbu_ua5uvYp18oTgiudfshvuGXawi0ta-FTlNR7Rs_iERnsgdv-ZcRqEYYxB-3j6wnYd3OApj38JlT8gFmRgeQyESYWactqViak4Hm8iv2dQUBjLHryomXOIqWSek8YExfLHBIhXptr1V-Rk23_MlyMVCzS2trRsxOs/s2048/IMG_6679.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF2LznNHxZ3pLbw0WM4v55USHEXbu_ua5uvYp18oTgiudfshvuGXawi0ta-FTlNR7Rs_iERnsgdv-ZcRqEYYxB-3j6wnYd3OApj38JlT8gFmRgeQyESYWactqViak4Hm8iv2dQUBjLHryomXOIqWSek8YExfLHBIhXptr1V-Rk23_MlyMVCzS2trRsxOs/w400-h300/IMG_6679.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI1SwqQtZfUYJUfNiZJnZBEp7OU-1Kv5P6q84syQqIVK63Kb-CvVpvOqVs82iOWvkqL0kQV1z4jrzL3Q8KvnalAy5pGl0c2Pfb_MBIShG_Sgy_5Z-QXCo9kMkoiqvDQ_f2RI6xMWS9Ow5ewIYqrSOOwHCsUEMGywAeFBoxSVbHrD95WbaPEwkzPwPmrYM/s2048/IMG_6681.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI1SwqQtZfUYJUfNiZJnZBEp7OU-1Kv5P6q84syQqIVK63Kb-CvVpvOqVs82iOWvkqL0kQV1z4jrzL3Q8KvnalAy5pGl0c2Pfb_MBIShG_Sgy_5Z-QXCo9kMkoiqvDQ_f2RI6xMWS9Ow5ewIYqrSOOwHCsUEMGywAeFBoxSVbHrD95WbaPEwkzPwPmrYM/w400-h300/IMG_6681.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: times;"><p><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>And now they have gone. To a new home ... for their next half-century ...</span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK1knbZiapoCNMC2WYk1dDW9GP2S5ec1iix7S1rrJdWNxkvxjZianiNdw6biCv407AiiLkFxApyE60U_eXZn5kCW4xw_LRoxLt71SE16nS6uIH85z7E2KeVQfX7e4h4rn8mikjXTritc62erQv342XejIqnI6R80LrBHlte5sFnRhdthk_dnatGf2wIQA/s2048/432627632_25168480336099050_7653405216076322380_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK1knbZiapoCNMC2WYk1dDW9GP2S5ec1iix7S1rrJdWNxkvxjZianiNdw6biCv407AiiLkFxApyE60U_eXZn5kCW4xw_LRoxLt71SE16nS6uIH85z7E2KeVQfX7e4h4rn8mikjXTritc62erQv342XejIqnI6R80LrBHlte5sFnRhdthk_dnatGf2wIQA/w400-h300/432627632_25168480336099050_7653405216076322380_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDvaoUrt5H4GqCIZWw8aGuTMRaJdt_MJtdy8-KtywcrjkYVHqzIT2hUQ8D6QDZ_OWGCsChxTOBSivI0t0xC-S5f8uLeRmH3T0nkrQhq9Iuwnatz2CeUQT_mcQyzH0631RN0cXe36Xost9P6u88manirH-TAsqR45m9QG0fCsztncQNKndlkr9oiuSHI8k/s833/chiqi%20picasso%20copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="833" data-original-width="720" height="545" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDvaoUrt5H4GqCIZWw8aGuTMRaJdt_MJtdy8-KtywcrjkYVHqzIT2hUQ8D6QDZ_OWGCsChxTOBSivI0t0xC-S5f8uLeRmH3T0nkrQhq9Iuwnatz2CeUQT_mcQyzH0631RN0cXe36Xost9P6u88manirH-TAsqR45m9QG0fCsztncQNKndlkr9oiuSHI8k/w472-h545/chiqi%20picasso%20copy.jpg" width="472" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ChiQi with Plums and Picassi 2007</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></p>GEROLSTEINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08446253124724430879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8935297705846111801.post-69323456220012803972024-03-14T18:45:00.000-07:002024-03-14T20:02:31.651-07:00Darewski, or two bits that fit together<p> </p><p>In the 1970s, when I was writing my first Big Book, <i>The British Musical Theatre, </i>I haunted the little junk-ephemera shops of Seven Dials and other unlikely areas in search of anything relevant to my cause. As you doubtless know, the result was two vast volumes of text and four rooms of programmes, playbills, scores, photographs, vital certificates (now largely enshrined in the Harvard Theatre Collection).</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO8vJXscsbqOz0zlEsKH2oGbuKQ7PjsdBeU8UEXRgyqT_mkTquIOyxwPryaqUU5P7-MiK3or37pcgo24EYjIJoaq-epnDVK1hbwdj-F2WlKLlMNtloDDmGTHz6lKTjSBmHK_kVWmGeoSiU9ILVXzZqVk-W4QF8q9R6upEqlmoKkmb_o79hgb7abEDLkkY/s3198/author.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3075" data-original-width="3198" height="385" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO8vJXscsbqOz0zlEsKH2oGbuKQ7PjsdBeU8UEXRgyqT_mkTquIOyxwPryaqUU5P7-MiK3or37pcgo24EYjIJoaq-epnDVK1hbwdj-F2WlKLlMNtloDDmGTHz6lKTjSBmHK_kVWmGeoSiU9ILVXzZqVk-W4QF8q9R6upEqlmoKkmb_o79hgb7abEDLkkY/w400-h385/author.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The shelves and drawers filled, and spilled out into the hall ...</td></tr></tbody></table><p>The very first letter I bought was this one, written by child musician <b>Max DAREWSKI </b>(aged 11). I think it was 10p. No-one knew who Max was, nor even his more well-known brother, Hermann who actually wrote an autobiography ...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZjOje4Jk0A2fC_DXaUaVeqdpzVJRCrfav1TTp1rgo07ObI6cnQ9SHbG3QrGmHLkqdGC6l4paZfEAGQZNGa2e5qi2SQmiLEQRf8WDCiQTx6m0Qx6oF2USbLnvzBm5iTdGzxBBgg12zpHdgnwgd1JtEeoqsgGxDltAQ11na5WwzJHor0kV2AD7DDDuE4uw/s3023/fairy%201.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2348" data-original-width="3023" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZjOje4Jk0A2fC_DXaUaVeqdpzVJRCrfav1TTp1rgo07ObI6cnQ9SHbG3QrGmHLkqdGC6l4paZfEAGQZNGa2e5qi2SQmiLEQRf8WDCiQTx6m0Qx6oF2USbLnvzBm5iTdGzxBBgg12zpHdgnwgd1JtEeoqsgGxDltAQ11na5WwzJHor0kV2AD7DDDuE4uw/w458-h356/fairy%201.jpeg" width="458" /></a></div><br /><p>Here's a piece I wrote before:</p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;">DAREWSKI, Herman</span></b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;"> <b>[Edouard] </b>(b Minsk, Russia, 17 April 1883; d Kennington, London, 2 June 1947). Songwriter and music publisher whose song successes were contrasted with some flamboyant business failures.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;"> Born in Russia, brought up in England, Darewski studied music in Vienna and then returned to Britain where he became a conductor at the spa town of Bridlington, then at Blackpool, a member of the staff of Francis, Day & Hunter music publishers, and an adept writer of popular songs and interpolated numbers for musical comedy. His first song success came with `My Little Hyacinth', interpolated into <i>The Beauty of Bath</i> (1906) by Ellaline Terriss, and he had further success with ‘In the Twi-twi-twilight’ (w Charles Wilmot) sung in the American edition of <i>The Dairymaids</i> (1907) and `I Used to Sigh for the Silvery Moon' as interpolated into Charles Dillingham's Broadway production of <i>The Candy Shop</i> (1909). He also provided the tune to Elsie Janis's lyrics for `For I Love Only You' (<i>The Slim Princess</i>, 1911). He subsequently established his own Herman Darewski Music Publishing Company Ltd which, apart from publishing his own works, also put out such popular numbers as `Any Old Iron', `Sussex by the Sea', `Arizona', `I Know Where the Flies Go in Wintertime', `Ours is a Nice House Ours Is' and ensured the British distribution of many American hits.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;"> His first musical theatre scores, mostly put together in collaboration with other writers, were written for revue, beginning with such shows as <i>Mind Your Backs</i>(Hackney Empire, 1913), and Austen Hurgon's 1914 Coliseum piece <i>Happy Days</i> (1914) and including de Courville's Hippodrome shows <i>Business As Usual</i> (`When We've Wound Up the Watch on the Rhine'), <i>Push and Go</i> (1915, w Jean Schwartz et al) and <i>Joyland</i> (1915), and the Comedy Theatre <i>Shell Out </i>(1915). Alongside the revue songs, and such singles as Jack Norworth’s ‘Sister Susie’s Sewing Shirts for Soldiers’ (1915), he found time to contribute more or less music to a number of musical plays, of which the first was J M Barrie's vehicle for Gaby Deslys,<i> Rosy Rapture</i> (1915), a revusical affair in which his songs (including `Which Switch is the Switch, Miss, for Ipswich?') supplemented half a score by Jerome Kern.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;"> Darewski contributed numbers to such pieces as Émile Lassailly's <i>Carminetta</i>and revivals of <i>Bluebell in Fairyland</i> and <i>The Catch of the Season</i>, but he scored his biggest success when he supplied the bulk of the songs for the enormously successful C B Cochran wartime musical <i>The Better 'Ole</i> (1917). The unfortunate Gertie Millar vehicle <i>Flora</i> (1918) gave him only a brief exposure, but his re-musicked version of the Rip revue <i>Plus ça change</i> for Cochran and Alice Delysia as <i>As You Were</i> (`If You Could Care For Me') was another hit, whilst his `The Shimmy Shake' and `Le Petit Nid' (`In That Little Home That's Built For Two') gave him a wider audience when they were heard in the Parisian version of Ivan Caryll's <i>The Earl and the Girl</i>, <i>Hello!! Charley</i>(1919).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;"> At this time, often three or four West End revues and/or musicals at one time bore Darewski's name, in a larger or smaller capacity, on their bill. However, with the exception of a Gaiety Theatre revival of <i>The Shop Girl</i> (1920) for which the original Ivan Caryll score was topped up with eight new Darewski songs (`The Guards' Brigade'), none of the musical comedies for which he provided the major part of the score (<i>Jolly Jack Tar</i>, <i>The Eclipse</i>, <i>Oh! Julie</i>) proved particularly successful and, by the early 1920s, his name was much less frequently seen.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;"> In 1920 Darewski (who had bought up the old music publishers Charles Sheard in 1918) purchased the famous publishing house of Metzler, but in 1922 he encountered financial problems and was obliged to sell his publishing interests in bankruptcy. From the 1920s he operated once more as a musical director at various seaside resorts and at the head of his own band, whilst still providing the odd song to such musicals as <i>The Blue Mazurka</i> and <i>Up with the Lark</i>, but without ever regaining the profile he had had in the 1910s.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;">1908 <b>Teashop Girls</b> (<i>The Tea-Shop Strike</i>) (w Charles Willmott/H Maurice Vernon) sketch Empire, Nottingham 27 April, Hackney Empire 1 June<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;">1914 <b>The Chorus Girl</b> (Harry Grattan) 1 act London Palladium 20 July<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;">1914 <b>Going, Going, Gone</b> 1 act Chelsea Palace ****<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;">1915 <b>Rosy Rapture, the Pride of the Beauty Chorus</b> (w Jerome Kern/F W Mark/J M Barrie) Duke of York's Theatre 22 March<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;">1917 <b>The Better 'Ole</b> (James Hurd/Bruce Bairnsfather, Arthur Eliot) Oxford Theatre 4 August<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;">1918 <b>Flora</b> (w Melville Gideon/Harry Grattan, Heard) Prince of Wales Theatre 12 March<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;">1918 <b>Jolly Jack Tar</b> (Heard, Davy Burnaby, J P Harrington/Seymour Hicks, Arthur Shirley) Prince's Theatre 29 November<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;">1919 <b>A Good-Looking Lass</b> (Leon Pollack, Lauri Wylie) 1 act Chelsea Palace 11 August<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;">1919 <b>The Eclipse</b> (w Gideon, Cole Porter/Adrian Ross/Fred Thompson, E Phillips Oppenheim) Garrick Theatre 12 November<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;">1920 <b>Oh! Julie</b> (w H Sullivan Brooke/Harold Simpson/Firth Shephard, Lee Banson) Shaftesbury Theatre 22 June<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;">1922 <b>Listening In</b> (Worton David, Will Hay) Apollo Theatre 31 July<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;">Autobiography: <i>Musical Memories</i> (Jarrold, London, 1937)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;">Darewski's brother, Julius Darewski, was a very prominent London theatrical and musical agent and occasional producer, whilst another (disowned) brother, operating under the name <b>Ernest C ROLLS</b> [Josef Adolf DAREWSKI] (b 6 June ?1890; d London, 20 January 1964), produced musical comedy and revue in both Britain and in Australia with more side than skill. He was sued for theatrical dishonesty before he was 21, bankrupted in 1921 after losing £16,000 on the musical <i>Oh! Julie</i> and £12,000 on the revue <i>Laughing Eyes</i>, and his mismanagement of Australia's J C Williamson Ltd almost led that famous firm to disaster. After directing some extravagant productions of a series of mostly American musicals on the Australian stage (<i>Sunny</i>, <i>Good News</i> etc) he went into management there on his own behalf, mounting Australia's <i>Whoopee</i>(1929) and the flop local <i>Funny Face</i> (1931), and, in the wake of Frank Thring's promotion of home-written Australian musical productions, even producing an original piece, <i>Flame of Desire</i> (Apollo Theatre, Melbourne 19 October 1935), for which he took a half book-credit with J L Gray (mus: Jack O'Hagan) and imported Ethelind Terry to star. He sacked her, and the show went down the drain anyway. It was then, through engineering a financial takeover of the firm by New Zealand department store magnate John McKenzie who then put him in charge, that he won the job at Williamson's,. His production of <i>I Married an Angel</i> was Williamson's all-time top money-loser and he was quickly given the boot when his second year's contract expired. Rolls' family did not disown him for his failures, nor for his flash manners and flashy productions (all well-established family failings). They disowned him first, in print (well, father and two brothers did, mother stuck by him a little longer) over his arrests for dishonesty, and then all over again when he was convicted of exposing himself in a rather different kind of `flash'.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;"> A further brother, <b>Max DAREWSKI</b> [Marks Maximilian A DAREWSKI] (b Manchester, 3 November 1894; d London, 25 September 1929), also composed for the musical theatre. In his earliest years, Max was celebrated as an infant prodigy at the piano, touring through Europe (under the not always appreciated `management' of brother Herman) and appearing before crowned heads in the best prodigy fashion. He also conducted his own and other music, in novelty circumstances, before the age of ten (Albert Hall, 1904 etc). Amongst a proliferation of piano compositions, he composed music for a number of revues, including <i>Oh! Molly</i> (1912) and the <i>Venus Limited</i> produced by brother Rolls, at the Pavilion and the Finsbury Park Empire respectively, but without being connected with anything very successful. He also got a tiny Broadway showing when he shared a credit on the title song for the 1916 musical <i>Go to It</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;"> He provided the score for Alfred Butt's musical comedy vehicle for Gaby Deslys, <i>Suzette</i> (1917), which, with a London run of 255 performances -- not really due to its songs -- proved his longest-lived piece. His only other full score was for the touring musical <i>Mam’zelle Kiki</i> (1924), but he shared credit for the composition of the Gaiety musical<i> His Girl</i> (1922) and the Jack Buchanan musical <i>Boodle</i> (1925) and had songs interpolated into various other musicals including the London versions of <i>Der Orlow</i> (<i>Hearts and Diamonds</i>), for which he was also musical director, Lehár's <i>Cloclo</i>, and revivals of <i>Tonight's the Night</i> and <i>The Maid of the Mountains</i>. He also provided a handful of songs for Broadway’s <i>Hammerstein’s 9 o’Clock Revue </i>(1923). Maurice Chevalier made a success of his `One Hour of Flirt with You' (1917) under the less curious title of `J'aime les fleurs' in the Casino de Paris revue <i>Pa-ri-ki-ri</i>. In what seemed to be the family tradition, he was glaringly bankrupted in 1924.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;">Max Darewski was married to showgirl Ruby Miller, who recounted their lives in the book <i>Believe Me or Not</i> (1933)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;">1917 <b>Seeing Life</b> (Arthurs) 1 act Oxford Music Hall 15 January<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;">1917 <b>Suzette</b> (Austen Hurgon, George Arthurs) Globe Theatre 29 March<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;">1922 <b>His Girl</b> (w Ernest Longstaffe/Austen Hurgon, F W Thomas, Claude E Burton, Arthur Anderson) Gaiety Theatre 1 April<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;">1924 <b>Mam’zelle Kiki</b> (Douglas Hoare, Graham John, Sydney Blow) Portsmouth 25 August<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;">1924 <b>Boodle</b> (w Phil Braham/Hoare, Blow, Douglas Furber) Prince of Wales Theatre, Birmingham 26 December; Empire Theatre 10 March 1925<span style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p>And here is today's photo ...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIui9FFwjyPdy6GkBWSu_2ko8Q-cI3HyHI-mvPwe-nbC2HopUQ29AQ5VWqDtYh70iRFoD3Gd1__NQBpxGGwGZRe3hidG61sLSPaOBYS-6n5teRJ80iBT_XmtJnkik8_do3KnO_Y6fGrMUvB91LJN8l_px1DzzOqSTS9MT2B3NEpmBDGtdprqHwscE_exM/s839/s-l960-11.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="839" data-original-width="538" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIui9FFwjyPdy6GkBWSu_2ko8Q-cI3HyHI-mvPwe-nbC2HopUQ29AQ5VWqDtYh70iRFoD3Gd1__NQBpxGGwGZRe3hidG61sLSPaOBYS-6n5teRJ80iBT_XmtJnkik8_do3KnO_Y6fGrMUvB91LJN8l_px1DzzOqSTS9MT2B3NEpmBDGtdprqHwscE_exM/w410-h640/s-l960-11.jpg" width="410" /></a></div><br /><p>The Darewski story is told, with multiple photographs, in Frank van Straten's book <i>Hanky Panky </i>(Australian Scholarly Publishers, 2020) which is princially focused on the career of 'Ernest C Rolls'. </p><p>Anyway, now I have the letter and the photo together, in the same article. Which is as it should be!</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>GEROLSTEINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08446253124724430879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8935297705846111801.post-65236636962626429882024-03-11T19:59:00.000-07:002024-03-12T12:28:13.401-07:00Flying so high with a Gay in the sky ....<p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>I'm out of my period, out of my genre, out of practically everything ... but I saw this photo today and wanted to know (of course) more ...</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBPhcqR-umRhvRtU1V0ipCUvsHVNsJH3aMDgAKmdH_fBj4T5BXiCo-CAhuS4y-LOPandk-TAW5or92RJURr01TtNv3nL1Y_yyUbmPH3RCSkF3BQtc8s_Plt-XJGM1fdNQIhsVGuW_Cp8sEv456PfcE4Wr2cv__9rhPbdeii46VS7rCjy9lCIl8F6-XyGc/s960/s-l960-13.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="547" height="617" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBPhcqR-umRhvRtU1V0ipCUvsHVNsJH3aMDgAKmdH_fBj4T5BXiCo-CAhuS4y-LOPandk-TAW5or92RJURr01TtNv3nL1Y_yyUbmPH3RCSkF3BQtc8s_Plt-XJGM1fdNQIhsVGuW_Cp8sEv456PfcE4Wr2cv__9rhPbdeii46VS7rCjy9lCIl8F6-XyGc/w351-h617/s-l960-13.jpg" width="351" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>So pretty, such a winning smile, and a pretty fair aerialist ...</p><p>Her name was <b>Ruth Lucille BUDD </b>(b Sandwich, Illinois 7 March 1895; d Fort Wayne 11 December 1968) ... when it wasn't Ruth Lucille SAUNDERS, for reasons I don't yet fully understand. Her father, Wallace Fay BUDD was a grocer, her mother Eva RUTH (b Mason City, Ill 19 January 1874; d Fort Wayne 28 January 1943) had been an actress. </p><p>Little Ruth had all the qualifications for the theatre and there she went ...</p><p>And on the way she met a pretty young man who worked in travesty as 'the Creole Fashion Plate'. He was actually George Francis Pedruzzi (b Baltimore 13 June 1897; d 25 August 1947), and he soon took on the asexual name of Karyl Norman. Now, I don't know if Ruth was dumb, or like ladies I have known, merely had a taste for the férique male, I don't know if Karyl was not yet wholly aware of his propensities or just thought ... anyway, they became boy and girlfriend and 'engaged'. La Signora Pedruzzi was, I gather, not pleased. It was she sewed her son's frocks and ..</p><p>Anyway, little Georgie apparently saw that his youthful enthusiasm had (after five, according to some sources, one,, to others) had perhaps led him too far ... and he called the 'engagement' off. Allegedly, in modern retellings, because Ruth and Her Mamma didn't want His Mamma to come on the honeymoon.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHnJm7oFD0Ytd4T4MF_-J8xB6Fw5haRHaZzgD2s42bd8AMHmhS9wO6fZqCxmuXhpX6LUX3gDgDqs_gHs7txchW6ylgaBwFJ5dL0rpN2FE8-PeBkVJ3YcALyFbOfay8rUWGU8D3daR_gBmXX2R7B4qDBlAtO5oWmrX86PD2sY_EvTap0OcCYyU0oxLw-8c/s438/NYC19220705.1.22-19-276-830-1313-277w.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="438" data-original-width="277" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHnJm7oFD0Ytd4T4MF_-J8xB6Fw5haRHaZzgD2s42bd8AMHmhS9wO6fZqCxmuXhpX6LUX3gDgDqs_gHs7txchW6ylgaBwFJ5dL0rpN2FE8-PeBkVJ3YcALyFbOfay8rUWGU8D3daR_gBmXX2R7B4qDBlAtO5oWmrX86PD2sY_EvTap0OcCYyU0oxLw-8c/w404-h640/NYC19220705.1.22-19-276-830-1313-277w.jpg" width="404" /></a></div><div><br /></div>(Ah, perhaps the first husband was 'Carpenter'?)<br /><p>Fast forward. Ruth had a very modest career in vaudeville, and eventually married (1927) a theatre electrician by the name of Ray Hanna, a little older than herself. Hanna made the transition from lighting man to movie house manager ...</p><p>George-Karyl had a much better career. Aparently deservedly. He, like the minstrel greats, Leon or Eugene, apparently encompassed the falsetto register in fine fashion. But, unlike in their cases, it was the frocks that really did it. Anyway, in the 21st century, as a blackish, gay, cross-dressing performer he has won the devotion of Universitarians and Wikiplegia, and is compared to Ray Bourbon ...</p><p>I think little Ruthie had a happy escape!</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEkulI8EaHv7im-ru6Q-xRaK9MbkYMZ0rLZa8IWYho5kdbAuW2ic_EScFSysBqo0Pu6v0bq6YZEd3Nc7OqHM3Mz3ogwQECt3er9M7c87Y4ILn7hkw6nAd5rq4rCxJXsh4Q8ztJyy11ZEzoFbLf1KGoyVFvvOhdklqR6NiagrVjunIBw0tr20Albi4Mw40/s400/1_681f4b9d675c6e64a6be2499220a555b.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="300" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEkulI8EaHv7im-ru6Q-xRaK9MbkYMZ0rLZa8IWYho5kdbAuW2ic_EScFSysBqo0Pu6v0bq6YZEd3Nc7OqHM3Mz3ogwQECt3er9M7c87Y4ILn7hkw6nAd5rq4rCxJXsh4Q8ztJyy11ZEzoFbLf1KGoyVFvvOhdklqR6NiagrVjunIBw0tr20Albi4Mw40/w480-h640/1_681f4b9d675c6e64a6be2499220a555b.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhblEsYLYx_W2gPMLYi9wC5jHxabpVtv-Yu9ifdLydXufOjh-FjKNP6F7zB-001o28cOl583p_1YcGu4dwa6hnaqQkpECY8aStsglIii-pTkPML6arAMyfiH9Uj__CFoVFaiDfOPxM1QyfeSxmtEawyuEYwFFHJbwaCDfCbCNfgUrMGOpbHwyeozbFb0Xk/s251/images.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="251" data-original-width="201" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhblEsYLYx_W2gPMLYi9wC5jHxabpVtv-Yu9ifdLydXufOjh-FjKNP6F7zB-001o28cOl583p_1YcGu4dwa6hnaqQkpECY8aStsglIii-pTkPML6arAMyfiH9Uj__CFoVFaiDfOPxM1QyfeSxmtEawyuEYwFFHJbwaCDfCbCNfgUrMGOpbHwyeozbFb0Xk/w320-h400/images.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><br /><p>I wonder what the verdict was re the $50,000!</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4_CrUq9RuRFcXQi86PcqWCHZ9AG55u7BweEIStqxak2lHXvTbyK6_DRowVTZTmPa4EmIhTMV-slgQZI76o5VymBUUtIsEMLVZSukBN0yDLF7jSbLjtdZyPsFL33ID7oYpnvZhf7sGQBu5RKquo6WBqQQKUuYYpgvQ9dD3JnzxXv5JuPMkqf-mFREmns4/s1546/karyl%20norman%20in%20Types%201928.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1308" data-original-width="1546" height="339" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4_CrUq9RuRFcXQi86PcqWCHZ9AG55u7BweEIStqxak2lHXvTbyK6_DRowVTZTmPa4EmIhTMV-slgQZI76o5VymBUUtIsEMLVZSukBN0yDLF7jSbLjtdZyPsFL33ID7oYpnvZhf7sGQBu5RKquo6WBqQQKUuYYpgvQ9dD3JnzxXv5JuPMkqf-mFREmns4/w400-h339/karyl%20norman%20in%20Types%201928.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />GEROLSTEINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08446253124724430879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8935297705846111801.post-13262074050970683322024-03-10T18:36:00.000-07:002024-03-18T12:23:53.469-07:00Worcester Theatre Royal and all its circuit<p><br /></p><p>A fascinating little group of old playbills from the Theatre Royal in Worcester. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf7yv9H8tnmAtg9kbwk0cFOijVym8UDA8z-yZ9f8N1d32m8Z2RTBviY2xayRHqfT4hf1gSwtMW6ctcNF4MbEWJt_-c_FsUtVw0WixTM9XsjHgdE30fVs_kzhLyZdHWB60IAVKW8Hp1qz2nowwzslOc9pGc2swZWbLYdDaOwWFPMIJOZlfNEcQ-LKjG2_A/s1600/Worcester%2018.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1234" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf7yv9H8tnmAtg9kbwk0cFOijVym8UDA8z-yZ9f8N1d32m8Z2RTBviY2xayRHqfT4hf1gSwtMW6ctcNF4MbEWJt_-c_FsUtVw0WixTM9XsjHgdE30fVs_kzhLyZdHWB60IAVKW8Hp1qz2nowwzslOc9pGc2swZWbLYdDaOwWFPMIJOZlfNEcQ-LKjG2_A/w494-h640/Worcester%2018.png" width="494" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0eDnBebtxRAuHeDKtL51rWqC4FGmILJCpHIFUserTReAjb7FmApxunDHNSpg9nY_GnlZyjrDPmTM0HOLahQXjnQ-BmFIMeLyGbdQkNP2w8Mcz6ZdH9N5O4B7oJzj9zx-6ZBA1sSoI1w2KpMOIgJo0kEeoD8ox0YGRz2GdLbes8cZQ7OaDAQ4zOnR9DVQ/s1600/Worcs%20Crisp%2019.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1233" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0eDnBebtxRAuHeDKtL51rWqC4FGmILJCpHIFUserTReAjb7FmApxunDHNSpg9nY_GnlZyjrDPmTM0HOLahQXjnQ-BmFIMeLyGbdQkNP2w8Mcz6ZdH9N5O4B7oJzj9zx-6ZBA1sSoI1w2KpMOIgJo0kEeoD8ox0YGRz2GdLbes8cZQ7OaDAQ4zOnR9DVQ/w494-h640/Worcs%20Crisp%2019.png" width="494" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUbwGuG071RVI2J3IRGnyKKp5s22hN-KkFnmR3nPbN-lF3UyeohvBSr-Q8LnV_XNSlalLRmj3HHaif2nNo2hOTPhYTX2CPBaS8_vw_OLyLZGqofrnxMpYwp3FH55b-IEuL5Mdb1TsuXhqbcU29jcrD1HhgZruraBjBL4UhxEbqqHcR18BEm7IJBft1msk/s1600/Worcester%2025.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1184" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUbwGuG071RVI2J3IRGnyKKp5s22hN-KkFnmR3nPbN-lF3UyeohvBSr-Q8LnV_XNSlalLRmj3HHaif2nNo2hOTPhYTX2CPBaS8_vw_OLyLZGqofrnxMpYwp3FH55b-IEuL5Mdb1TsuXhqbcU29jcrD1HhgZruraBjBL4UhxEbqqHcR18BEm7IJBft1msk/w474-h640/Worcester%2025.png" width="474" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh57lZfWfJCxNKb8zR4P6bBnngISWfiNCypoIO8hb808Z7SGg2rzDn2njE9URX2VpC0R6JfzzW4QWtYIio6MpKVr_vgsAMjOxwwoqp0LP5ZrXO8ERoy2c4WgcCpvOZ8rpucDIyW1g5Z-1GPzC5KT-sIpwugkAaPAOvlkuklE0ZivC6s2EwNFCebr04Jqwg/s1600/Worcester%20CRISP%2027.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1203" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh57lZfWfJCxNKb8zR4P6bBnngISWfiNCypoIO8hb808Z7SGg2rzDn2njE9URX2VpC0R6JfzzW4QWtYIio6MpKVr_vgsAMjOxwwoqp0LP5ZrXO8ERoy2c4WgcCpvOZ8rpucDIyW1g5Z-1GPzC5KT-sIpwugkAaPAOvlkuklE0ZivC6s2EwNFCebr04Jqwg/w482-h640/Worcester%20CRISP%2027.png" width="482" /></a></div><p> <span>There had been theatrical performances at Mr James Augustus Whitley's (d Wolverhampton 14 September 1781) playhouse in Angel Street in Worcester since the 18th century, but it was only in</span><span> </span>the nineteenth that the building was granted the right to call itself the 'Theatre Royal'. I see a Mr Powell credited at some stage as 'manager'</p><p>In the period covered by these bills, the little (900 plus seater) house was run by only two managers: John Crisp (b 1776; d Lozells Rd, Aston 25 November 1841) and, for many years, Henry Bennett (b Bath 1792; d College Street, Worcester 5 September 1868). </p><p>Theatres, at this time, did not run the year long. In fact, they were closed more often. The manager would open for Occasions, such as Race Week, which brought the Quality to town, or the local Assizes, which brought different Quality, but otherwise for 'a season' or, if he were on a good thing 'seasons' with a resident stock company. And a supply of 'guest stars', usually for the odd night or three . When local support and/or the performers repertoire looked as if they had had enough, a good manager went on a Circuit. </p><p>John Crisp also had, at various times, the management of theatres at Shrewsbury, Hereford, Coventry, Chester, Cheltenham .. and his actors hied thither, sometimes for a number of years in a row, while Worcester's dressing rooms were closed or, in some cases, rented out to amdrams or concerts, or even to another manager (Elliston took the house for a season in 1815). Bennett continued, in the same style, for nigh on thirty years. By the time that he retired, in 1851, the old system was well on its way out, and the era of touring comanies was beginning.</p><p>So, we have two bills here from the Crisp era. Easter Tuesday, 24 March 1818. Some of the names mean nothing to me, but some others than Crisp do -- Mr and Mrs Gallott, Henry Kemble, Mrs Chambers .. </p><p><b>John GALLOTT</b> (b 1790; d Brompton, 12 December 1860) had a career of some thirty yeears, partly in the company of his wife <b>Ann Eliza née WOODS</b>. I see him first in Oxford from 1807, (where Tom Wrench was sometime of the company) and them in 1815, before they moved into Crisp's orbit at Chester and Worcester. In late 1818 they were engaged at London'd Coburg Theatre, where Gallott took good roles, then to Sadler's Wells where he assumed the post of stage manager, then to the Haymarket (with a trip to Dublin the direct the pantomime. In 1828, he moved to the Adelphi where he played in such pieces as <i>Nelson, or the Life of a Sailor, Paris in London, A New Don Juan, </i>the title-role in <i>The Pilot, The Earthquake, or the Spectre of the Nile </i>and as Korassan, the usurper, in <i>The Elephant of Siam, or the Fire Fiend, </i>allegedly penned by at least partly himself<i>. Mrs G played a Siamese lady. </i>He obviously got on well with the elephant, for in 1831 he accompanied it and the show to America. He is still to be seen in the London theatres in the 1830s and 1840s 'the evergreen Mr Gallott'. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSJpXI7LADeT8IweVaE73T17HSBu069MkDRq8bY9PnEruxCBN4LokKz8zC30tkaZZH_NFlp3RvxdEgvR6JHHNkksdQfz0YlH46nhvhtYnwgAjd3BEAr5ZsYQGFreTR8AWHKnE5Xj-fGT56xLTPx1bwo_9naSd-87k_NT0PRSOXhohpw-txAmPkcr-TJoM/s1140/16-Elephant-of-Siam_1aa347320b1763df27ad585bb57fc819.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="741" data-original-width="1140" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSJpXI7LADeT8IweVaE73T17HSBu069MkDRq8bY9PnEruxCBN4LokKz8zC30tkaZZH_NFlp3RvxdEgvR6JHHNkksdQfz0YlH46nhvhtYnwgAjd3BEAr5ZsYQGFreTR8AWHKnE5Xj-fGT56xLTPx1bwo_9naSd-87k_NT0PRSOXhohpw-txAmPkcr-TJoM/w432-h281/16-Elephant-of-Siam_1aa347320b1763df27ad585bb57fc819.jpg" width="432" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGYlqFxAxhmeEZpl4hCqfBcNZTbO4f6a_PnSPc0-1npRclNLwZtcI5WpT6whi5NnmaQF8kj6etrjlJi6c9gy9ORUKMU_76-araeAoyNIJmyuVWKHT2H954W5ePKJh5G_HdOHj8oXk5-fDs-cZMEsRnsOqZ6mGv5H5-zO2jBEgA_GWNMUlZapTstXzr3i8/s833/ga.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="833" data-original-width="702" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGYlqFxAxhmeEZpl4hCqfBcNZTbO4f6a_PnSPc0-1npRclNLwZtcI5WpT6whi5NnmaQF8kj6etrjlJi6c9gy9ORUKMU_76-araeAoyNIJmyuVWKHT2H954W5ePKJh5G_HdOHj8oXk5-fDs-cZMEsRnsOqZ6mGv5H5-zO2jBEgA_GWNMUlZapTstXzr3i8/w338-h400/ga.jpg" width="338" /></a></div><br /><p>The other standout name, for me, in <b>Mrs [Harriet] CHAMBERS née DYER</b>, formerly TAPLIN. She played for half a century on the stages of England, and was regarded as a close follower to Mrs Glover as a player of 'old women'. </p><p>I researched Harriet deeply, and then discovered that someone else had gone there before me. The amazing Mr PV Highfill. Alas, his multi-volumed biographical dictionary is beyond a pensioner's means, so I shall have to write to my rich friend Betsy in California and get her to scan me the relevant bit. Meanwhile, the bones of his article have been shared on the www along with a wonderful oiece of ephemera: a playscript annotated by the ladt</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWfKXMnEynleVAjXGPngGW0QhPRDJ_1kD5_zL4cLdEsCm1mhqXPGBo4wlvJfNtT90HSh-uAhjChYUaGits4gjmDc8NKHZKpz8rR74oQDBL_07sWHDhGXurJ_lbLI1y1SqyKfOcyM0MoCROWlzavrCNL_Uot-8h9uEnWCSMjnyZX67sLBqE0j9XZiomw7g/s454/5c73f-img_0254-1-e1588600177645.jpg.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="454" data-original-width="271" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWfKXMnEynleVAjXGPngGW0QhPRDJ_1kD5_zL4cLdEsCm1mhqXPGBo4wlvJfNtT90HSh-uAhjChYUaGits4gjmDc8NKHZKpz8rR74oQDBL_07sWHDhGXurJ_lbLI1y1SqyKfOcyM0MoCROWlzavrCNL_Uot-8h9uEnWCSMjnyZX67sLBqE0j9XZiomw7g/w382-h640/5c73f-img_0254-1-e1588600177645.jpg.webp" width="382" /></a></div><div><br /></div>The inscription dates from rather later than the publication, for Harriet was not 'Chambers' for another fifteen years.<div><br /></div><div>So, <b>Harriet DYER</b> born to Michael Dyer and Harriet Bullock, both performers, around 1750? Must have gone on the stage early, for she married an actor named William Taplin 27 February 1771. I see them together in 1776 at Manchester where a prominent colleague was one James Kennedy. And Mrs Taplin 'ran off' with Mr Kennedy. He didn't last long, as Harriet moved on to Dublin and Leeds, to Stamford and to Barnsley, where she met and married (October 1779) John Chapman. Another actor. But the third time paid all. The couple stayed together until they vanish into the starlight somewhere thirty years later.</div><div>Through the 1790s and 1800s, I see them -- mostly together -- Sheffield, Newcastle, Ipswich, Hereford, Canterbury, Birmingham, Manchester, Chester, Omagh (!), more Hereford, Cheltenham and Chester, where Harriet is now dubbed 'of Drury Lane', through the 1810s and into the 1820s ... where I lose them.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Edward SHUTER </b>(b c 1788; d Manchester 5 November 1836) was another longtime habitué of the provincial circuits. I wonder if he is the Master Shuter who appeared with his parents at Hereford as early as 1791? Bit young. I think it must be his brother George jr. George Shuter (sr) married Susannah Powell, Cheltenham 1783? In 1800, Mrs Shuter 'and her children' are at Wolverhampton. Miss E Shuter and Miss F Shuter and Mr E Shuter appear at Hereford together in 1812. So I guess that's them.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVcLMIWcSoVA5wSf3rWAnYJLKyo1A9Dg60rBoUIQC9_ncNgm91ht1pagY9bKzerZ219YwI8MPvHnabq4dxWbgSARp5N_tH5zjBDcBUpbwkNr2w3h985-sSApyBjhyreyisGhqZ_OJjFyFzeH5atwA3wLQq7POqsl-KiiVNgPVn55fZpjtuWUc1H-LoGEQ/s2143/shu.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2143" data-original-width="1083" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVcLMIWcSoVA5wSf3rWAnYJLKyo1A9Dg60rBoUIQC9_ncNgm91ht1pagY9bKzerZ219YwI8MPvHnabq4dxWbgSARp5N_tH5zjBDcBUpbwkNr2w3h985-sSApyBjhyreyisGhqZ_OJjFyFzeH5atwA3wLQq7POqsl-KiiVNgPVn55fZpjtuWUc1H-LoGEQ/w324-h640/shu.jpg" width="324" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2dJel-blfQfQM5pXfWQgkY2I1IAWyfsxqqWgMV72mJ6H_Wa4U_reTTTLXqrRK0iIvgmtYI1ktX1xo1KTMZvFKjptRwhgbc_jBj0zGiSGHKevnXAVy0K517p3qvjXKEmfjKl0reCEXJSsVrIAPgT4WgJxyDWK5xG11bJ3u4wE8QtKZwJVmne6gSWYrJCw/s1200/3303.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="695" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2dJel-blfQfQM5pXfWQgkY2I1IAWyfsxqqWgMV72mJ6H_Wa4U_reTTTLXqrRK0iIvgmtYI1ktX1xo1KTMZvFKjptRwhgbc_jBj0zGiSGHKevnXAVy0K517p3qvjXKEmfjKl0reCEXJSsVrIAPgT4WgJxyDWK5xG11bJ3u4wE8QtKZwJVmne6gSWYrJCw/w370-h640/3303.jpg" width="370" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I spot what I assume is him at Hereford (1807, 1815, 1819), Shrewsbury (1809), Cheltenham (1811, 1812, 1813) and for three seasons at Liverpool in comic roles, then in Chester in 1817 with ?mother, Crisp, Gallott, Mrs Chambers et al .. Occasionally it is tricky to identify which Mr and Mrs Shuter is referred to .. </div><div>'Died Birmingham, Mrs Shuter, mother of Mr George Shuter, late of our (Hereford) Theatre' 1823. OK, father is George Elizabeth Shuter born to George and Susannah at Cheltenham 1793? George 1783? Richard at Worcester in 1800 .... ah died George Shuter, comedian, aged 54 in the Tottenham Court Rd 5 November 1837. 54? That's surely a brother. Oh, these theatrical dynasties! </div><div>Edward Shuter married Charlotte Pitt 1825. Could be he. The Pitt family worked alongside the Shuters ... sigh. I'm stabbing running water ...</div><div>I reckon I've mucked this one up. </div><div><br /></div><div>The Mr VINING here, is <b>Henry [Phillip Tayleure] VINING</b> (1794-1855) who married<b> Amelia QUANTRILL </b>also of the theatre, daughter of <b>William QUANTRILL</b> of the cricuit (d Cheltenham 31 March 1825). He can be seen in the 1841 census 'comedian' with wife, mother-in-law, and daughters Amelia and Matilda ... oh lawks! Matilda grew up to be the celebrated Mrs John Wood! Talk about dynasties!</div><div><br /></div><div>Several of the actors had short lives ...</div><div><b>Thomas AYLMER </b>(b 1799; d Atherstone 17 May 1828)</div><div>and <b>John Reynolds CASSUP </b>(b Bristol 25 June 1804; d Loughborough 6 September 1832</div><div>did not reach their thirtieth birthday ... I see Cassup at Shrewsbury in 1828 .. Aylmer at Retford in 1822 </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2gSrIO33rneVMJJL2jjNOzl7aU4M1UrpiRfVGwLystfrB65nzYg9wTxEV44ZL-ZMjFtM6aO_5B5bDTW0F2qsHCb5nxdQRMRt9AdHGmKMy1YbxtOBntTIlvDTFfrYwtUZ2p4D9PNXsMF2FjJW3cR1uIBMLgmRuoQNeZhlkDnrMVG-O1E3y3JLx1v3_LzU/s960/s-l960-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="675" height="453" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2gSrIO33rneVMJJL2jjNOzl7aU4M1UrpiRfVGwLystfrB65nzYg9wTxEV44ZL-ZMjFtM6aO_5B5bDTW0F2qsHCb5nxdQRMRt9AdHGmKMy1YbxtOBntTIlvDTFfrYwtUZ2p4D9PNXsMF2FjJW3cR1uIBMLgmRuoQNeZhlkDnrMVG-O1E3y3JLx1v3_LzU/w318-h453/s-l960-2.jpg" width="318" /></a></div><br /><div>The Mr H Kemble on the Bennett bills is <b>Henry Stephen KEMBLE </b>(b 15 September 1789; d 22 June 1836) son of Stephen Kemble and nephew to the celebrated John Philip Kemble, who acted in tandem with Mrs Siddons in 1767. His wife was Mary née FREESE. While his father had the reins 1818-9 at Drury Lane he was given good roles there, but thereafter he was largely employed at the Coburg, the Surrey or in the provinces.</div><div><br /></div><div>The multiplication of names make deciphering these C19th bills very difficult. But I thought I'd try an easy one today. Mr Spray. The leader of the Worcester Theatre orchestra. And he's followed by a Mr Spray jr. Obviously a son. It seems not. After a day of delving, I've discovered that this Mr Spray was a Scot, by name <b>William Henry SPRAY</b>. Born, it seems, somewhere near Dumfries in 1789. I think the Sprays might have crossed the border quite early, for I see what I presume is he leading the band at Hereford in 1816. I presume, because, guess what, he had a brother (?), Frederick (b c 1786; d Leicester 14 March 1864) who also professed music ... </div><div>Anyway, Fred's children claim birth in Boston, Lincs, but the whole lot seem to have ended up in 11 the Tything, Claines, Worcestershire. Alas the censi only begin in 1841, but there are bits of Spray there then .. and then WH (d 27 September 1850) and his wife Jane née Macfarlane (d 1853) died ... and we have Fred jr, Sarah and Rachel ..</div><div>Fred jr (b 1823) would even outdo his ?uncle. He was the big man in Worcester musical circles for two decades. Conductor of the Harmonic Society, the Festival Choral Society, the Philharmonic Society ... </div><div>Sister Rachel became Mrs John Stanyon and died at 28, sister Sarah became tardily Mrs George Goodwin .. and I think the family historians (and newspapers) have done their usual muddling.</div><div>So, the Miss Spray dancing at the Worcester Theatre in 1827 (and at Stamford in 1834) is ...?</div><div><br /></div><div>My biggest disappointment in researching these bills is my failure to identify firmly Mr and Mrs Denning. Not with proof, anyway. The first bit of data I discovered was a tiny squib in a provincial paper saying that he had died in Birmingham in 1821. 'Mr Denning'. Always just 'Mr Denning'. He'd only been on the stage for about eight years. But in those eight years he had won splendid plaudits and been seen -- in between engagements at Crisp's theatres (Cheltenham, Chester, Hereford, Worcester)-- at both the Haymarket (as Anthony Absolute to his wife's Julia) and more significantly at Covent Garden in 1817-8. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj51IxtR_YHPqZg-NDixySVs8X4Estnhn0Fu6NUJxtxq08BW18YXkDJwkWmglOyPEKjMxKOYtAQ0yZ-XGn3pJYG_IuEC8x4DXN47oyHQNy94gSxzHGnf-LYIDfHiLAn2QxYeZSVLe0Kuqmhc-NO66Bui4DyTPYvUBzw74GsbjzKkn-OMLb8XJFfU2ahWkw/s2471/cg.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2471" data-original-width="1199" height="659" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj51IxtR_YHPqZg-NDixySVs8X4Estnhn0Fu6NUJxtxq08BW18YXkDJwkWmglOyPEKjMxKOYtAQ0yZ-XGn3pJYG_IuEC8x4DXN47oyHQNy94gSxzHGnf-LYIDfHiLAn2QxYeZSVLe0Kuqmhc-NO66Bui4DyTPYvUBzw74GsbjzKkn-OMLb8XJFfU2ahWkw/w319-h659/cg.jpg" width="319" /></a></div><br /><div>While at Covent Garden, he played a role á tiroirs in a piece named <i>Thee Miles from Paris, </i>and such was his success that he won comparisons with Charles Mathews and had his likeness, in the role, engraved for the <i>Theatrical Inquisitor. '</i>Mr Denning'. </div><div><br /></div><div> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLwLxeOfTJEPxuDInvduycRGXIVAMJpl_F6LHJsFiykVoyylnXKN7oCQc94v_pcmDZrvHEXSILepMSoCv105OTvgcRnEDZudj1Fvz44WQNlHNRnW96oXWaOpNZ-2V8MLX26S8b6cvthKbg8QqbiEOjNpY1nq88us1mY0-gqwhsrXSJMg4tzupkrjlpLu4/s600/denn.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="349" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLwLxeOfTJEPxuDInvduycRGXIVAMJpl_F6LHJsFiykVoyylnXKN7oCQc94v_pcmDZrvHEXSILepMSoCv105OTvgcRnEDZudj1Fvz44WQNlHNRnW96oXWaOpNZ-2V8MLX26S8b6cvthKbg8QqbiEOjNpY1nq88us1mY0-gqwhsrXSJMg4tzupkrjlpLu4/w372-h640/denn.jpg" width="372" /></a></div><br />Now, this engraving has found its way into several libraries, where it is catalogued as 'Thomas Denning'. I wonder how they knew that. So I looked for a Thomas Denning dying in Birmingham on 9 September 1821. There wasn't one. Yes, he and his wife were playing a season at Birmingham when he was taken ill in November 1820 .. but ... Well, I suspect that he went home to die. A Thomas Denning died back in Newington (where he was born) aged just 31 ... </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAvWVtwiLA1rBfi1u350SZjMbOxGhCScjdQLAI70w9cblgHSxnQZBPiyZUItWTrRxAWPeqYEKPE69RFBN_XRvzgqzQwsLjAZ-71nE9DR-bf_pHfLPsTu2NURBrtn68GPQz6KpgNRi6EhTtmi7PqneF9R5kJNVpMbNGyphFtEQsJd2dvwfrhKA8YS4HW8k/s2134/denning.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2134" data-original-width="852" height="885" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAvWVtwiLA1rBfi1u350SZjMbOxGhCScjdQLAI70w9cblgHSxnQZBPiyZUItWTrRxAWPeqYEKPE69RFBN_XRvzgqzQwsLjAZ-71nE9DR-bf_pHfLPsTu2NURBrtn68GPQz6KpgNRi6EhTtmi7PqneF9R5kJNVpMbNGyphFtEQsJd2dvwfrhKA8YS4HW8k/w354-h885/denning.jpg" width="354" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>Which means he was just 22 when he stepped on to the stage at Cheltenham in July 1812 with a comic song and dancing a pas de deux with one of the Mr Chuters. The programme also included Mrs Denning. Who was she ...? She, too, turns up at Cheltenham in 1812, playing Young Douglas to the Alice of ... Miss Feron! She is there until that last season in Birmingham .. and, whoever she was, then disappears from my ken. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's getting thin. Mr Mason apparently was a Cheltonian. A Mrs Cuffley née Sternberg turns up in Northampton 20 years later ... I see Mr (and Mrs) Thornhill at Chester in 1806 labelled 'of Liverpool' ... most of the minor performers limited their careers, such as they were, to the circuits. Ah! here's one that made the news! Miss Hart.</div><div><br /></div><div>There were clearly several Miss Harts around in these years. There was one dancing in London c1815-9. Then there was one who arrived at Chester under Crisp in 1819. Is this she? There is one getting ghastly reviews at Norwich and Cambridge, and one at Stamford 'from the TR Birmingham' ... which one? Fast forward to 1838. Miss <b>Caroline Mary Ann Hart,</b> only daughter of George Hart, and living in College Yard (hang on, that's Henry Bennett land) married Henry Nash, a Cheapside merchant, and made the news by refusing to go on the next night in a play apparently called <i>The Day After the Marriage.</i> She is said to have attempted London under name of 'Miss Harrington'. I'm not sure if she ever acted again, and she seems to have died in 1868 'aged 50'.</div><div><br /></div><div>Here's another Crisp playbill culled from the web. This one is 1815.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-4GDX0mMkStu_ovBspJUr05tixX6RdTpj_-IS6JBCZVihzNJc0eB_BMnRChImOfyJnciDR3qRiqyzN9GhpuhuKR3srAcT-c-z3UwfJGKDeezkwsxVpQuCdE3fYZaCSwAsDM3mo5T-0zW-qs4kNEfePMCgjnlXbt0kE2IzsqMUmOFiEp3F8uIRkMvP4ew/s841/worcs%20blanchard%2015.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="841" data-original-width="306" height="910" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-4GDX0mMkStu_ovBspJUr05tixX6RdTpj_-IS6JBCZVihzNJc0eB_BMnRChImOfyJnciDR3qRiqyzN9GhpuhuKR3srAcT-c-z3UwfJGKDeezkwsxVpQuCdE3fYZaCSwAsDM3mo5T-0zW-qs4kNEfePMCgjnlXbt0kE2IzsqMUmOFiEp3F8uIRkMvP4ew/w330-h910/worcs%20blanchard%2015.jpg" width="330" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Mr Gallott, Mr Shuter, Mr and Mrs Chambers are already on the bills. Mr Marratt. I guess the one such who performed 'wonderful evolutions on the slack rope' at Hereford in 1819. And Mr Cuffley! Is this the George Carver Cuffley of Northampton, music seller, who married Frances Mary Sternberg, vocalist in 1825? Can't be, he'd be 13 years old. A good few Cuffleys in Northants .. bah! it's no use.<div><br /></div><div>Mr Blanchard OK, Mr Norman yes. Ah, Mrs Mardyn. Poor Mrs Mardyn.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Mrs MARDYN (née Charlotte INGRAM)</b> (c Chickester c1791; d unknown) had a brief but sunny career. You can read her story in <i>The Era </i>for 10 April 1853. Way after her period in the limelight, but Charlotte made a mark in her time ... To sum up, she was a sexy servant lass who courted and married a pretty but dissolute actor named Mardyn, took to the stage, was a great success, quickly rose to Drury Lane heights ... and then someone started a rumor. At the time the lurky Lord Byron was estranged from wife, and had been putting himself around -- seemingly without regard to age or sex -- whilst sheltering behind his aristocratic and popular persona. It doesn't seem to have done much harm to his various paramours, with one exception. Charlotte Mardyn. The public -- or an interested/influential portion of it hissed her from the Drury Lane stage -- quite how often or consistently this happened is related with various of degrees of vehemence, but suffice it that Charlotte was not retained either at Drury Lane or the Haymarket, left England for the Continent and there married a titled person (some say German, some French) and disappeared ...</div><div>This playbill comes from the period before Byron ... there weren't too many post. So, did she or didn't she? And does it matter?</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfK2brDp4Py7Ik9VKxGlCmq3qQ1j0ib0_snYudjI-r7aS2lihLg9MSCgcAP1OIacgZJ1dg7zllAZRrpC6i2UGWSh74OPAT2yINjeWiMQntAkZlfonTYb-HYjZi-l2ow0c47uVBy_tJ16rakuB_Ck2lzwx7jhRuALm_OWig_M-WHny-0_QqSwK5okEBlmU/s600/Charlotte_Mardyn.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="464" height="468" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfK2brDp4Py7Ik9VKxGlCmq3qQ1j0ib0_snYudjI-r7aS2lihLg9MSCgcAP1OIacgZJ1dg7zllAZRrpC6i2UGWSh74OPAT2yINjeWiMQntAkZlfonTYb-HYjZi-l2ow0c47uVBy_tJ16rakuB_Ck2lzwx7jhRuALm_OWig_M-WHny-0_QqSwK5okEBlmU/w361-h468/Charlotte_Mardyn.jpg" width="361" /></a></div><br /><div><b>William BLANCHARD </b>(b Newgate, Yorks 2 January 1769; d London 9 May 1835) needs no introduction. His life and splendid and appreciated career are detailed in the <i>Dictionary of National Biography</i>. He died from a fractured skull after being thrown from his chaise. His son was E L Blanchard of pantomime fame and the author of a memoir.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSQHAdeu109ZjgbpGpOtAnOG4NK9f_vXECRHFloldtfUXi_celyFDTaUS-iJL_VxFYXTri3O-3GSfCK44FhCZRXOX_qxdPkuSYnbseEjG-Kr6b9PQ-InCzSHmt0O1t2w3a9r3I9_ln-A5fpKWRUYkivqviqDiyJc1s2ZSi9AcGrvV24pMy-mPjzW8Esas/s1260/Samuel%20de%20Wilde%20-%20Mr%20Blanchard%20in%20the%20character%20of%20Ralph%20%20-%20(MeisterDrucke-275769).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1260" data-original-width="853" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSQHAdeu109ZjgbpGpOtAnOG4NK9f_vXECRHFloldtfUXi_celyFDTaUS-iJL_VxFYXTri3O-3GSfCK44FhCZRXOX_qxdPkuSYnbseEjG-Kr6b9PQ-InCzSHmt0O1t2w3a9r3I9_ln-A5fpKWRUYkivqviqDiyJc1s2ZSi9AcGrvV24pMy-mPjzW8Esas/w434-h640/Samuel%20de%20Wilde%20-%20Mr%20Blanchard%20in%20the%20character%20of%20Ralph%20%20-%20(MeisterDrucke-275769).jpg" width="434" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9RVchxkuYua0_Ope8buLEidANupivgtmtctqYGCiNb6e9h-_ayu0QdMTI1Ft6AIE-Z8gX2Fq4pd45ii4LxnnSJZdSg1aZbRNrokvLdScCubhzBVwvDv5Lz3Aj-e3palZ-XpBmLZNo-vJavGYG1O18G9-HLCCyGz8GURH3rHK9xk894WL8d0vhyphenhyphenZiwBQw/s1390/marks-jl-theatrical-portrait-mr-blanchard-as-pantaloon-google-art-HRD10C.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1390" data-original-width="1041" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9RVchxkuYua0_Ope8buLEidANupivgtmtctqYGCiNb6e9h-_ayu0QdMTI1Ft6AIE-Z8gX2Fq4pd45ii4LxnnSJZdSg1aZbRNrokvLdScCubhzBVwvDv5Lz3Aj-e3palZ-XpBmLZNo-vJavGYG1O18G9-HLCCyGz8GURH3rHK9xk894WL8d0vhyphenhyphenZiwBQw/w300-h400/marks-jl-theatrical-portrait-mr-blanchard-as-pantaloon-google-art-HRD10C.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Mr NORMAN </b>[MOWATT, Richard Henry Norman] (b 1788; d Newington Workhouse 15 September 1858). Often provincial theatres billed their artists with exaggerated or even false credits. 'Of La Scala' etc. But I feel that Mr Norman deserved rather better than his billing here. He was quite simply one of the foremost players of golden heyday of pantomime in early C19th Britain, right up there with Grimaldi and Bologna, both of whom he regularly partnered.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAzzVIO9NMeKpSfjGWv7TRGIDgoA2RT68tBwCLsFwbb2kyPnMAVfbuIf5Sxd0HJw_ZfNfw2bc0UvkOp67dHGgaBcolp9mV-2tMBfpXkuEG73X2PjuNYyZi5e6JwUQmXHjB3DAGvaAPfa-WM-hflynnyvPil7SEgWvrIM6IQkWVnqVuUCh_9tc_GHfPXGs/s600/30762448522.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="425" data-original-width="600" height="322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAzzVIO9NMeKpSfjGWv7TRGIDgoA2RT68tBwCLsFwbb2kyPnMAVfbuIf5Sxd0HJw_ZfNfw2bc0UvkOp67dHGgaBcolp9mV-2tMBfpXkuEG73X2PjuNYyZi5e6JwUQmXHjB3DAGvaAPfa-WM-hflynnyvPil7SEgWvrIM6IQkWVnqVuUCh_9tc_GHfPXGs/w454-h322/30762448522.jpg" width="454" /></a></div><div><br /></div>He was inevitably billed as 'Mr Norman', but I winkled out a tiny death notice which referred to him as Richard Norman. Then, chasing his official death record, I discovered that he was <i>alias </i>R H N Mowatt. Which has been no help at all in finding details of his birth or marriage.<div>So I'm forced to theorise. From about 1789 there were a Mr and Mrs Norman playing Chester ('his first appearance on this stage'), Manchester and the associated circuits. 1794, Manchester produced a pantomime <i>The Chace, or Harlequin Skeleton </i>and Mr Norman was the Pantaloon. Clearly not our 5 year-old Richard. Mr and Mrs are seen through the 1790s and .. well, is he the Mr Norman singing a comic song at Lancaster and acting with Miss Mellon at Manchester in assizes week, August 1804? Is it he at Manchester in December? At Lincoln in November 1805 ('his song was excellent')<br /><div>then Grantham, Boston ... I think it must be Mr N senior. Because in May 1806, at the Aquatic Theatre, Sadler's Wells, a Mr Norman -- or Mr Norman -- appears as a dancer in something called <i>Love in a Tub. </i>In July he is feartured alongside Grimaldi in a dance routine <i>Fun and Physic, </i>a comic pantomime, <i>Anthony Cleopatra and Harlequin </i>and <i>The Invisible Ring. </i></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLYXLxL6BzR568NdsmSLCQYx9vBQEI6rM8wVB2-tu0NTORJ_C-JKEV1_KAtvXObZX2HfyVGvdJz-7XzDoMskGPVM8dLKF5a0AP8j0XCEg5oTu-dExFK9nBQ46noZkVYZ4Dr8JVJKgF8LeHD_D7Bp-jsQOD_tBEOyol-kciFi-R_tIWIbmWjIYouvLQi7I/s704/936922e763960f024ec99aa13561c0ea.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="704" data-original-width="564" height="575" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLYXLxL6BzR568NdsmSLCQYx9vBQEI6rM8wVB2-tu0NTORJ_C-JKEV1_KAtvXObZX2HfyVGvdJz-7XzDoMskGPVM8dLKF5a0AP8j0XCEg5oTu-dExFK9nBQ46noZkVYZ4Dr8JVJKgF8LeHD_D7Bp-jsQOD_tBEOyol-kciFi-R_tIWIbmWjIYouvLQi7I/w460-h575/936922e763960f024ec99aa13561c0ea.jpg" width="460" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The pantomimes and comic dances followed one after the other .. <i>Harlequin Highflier, The Magic Urn, The Plagiarist, Quixote and Sancho, The Prophecy, Take Warning, Harlequin Pygmalion .. </i>he had clown roles at the Olympic Pavilion, the Sans Pareil (<i>The Fiery Cauldron</i>), Covent Garden (<i>Harlequin and Asmodeus </i>opposite Grimaldi<i>), </i>the Lyceum, he was Pantaloon to the Clown of Grimaldi, played Crusoe to his Friday at Covent Garden, and at one stage doubled the Garden with the Coburg nightly. It didn't workout well. London traffic let him down and he was late at the Coburg. He was sacked ... and won £200 for breach of contract!</div><div>In 1820 he doubled Pantaloon with directing the Dublin panto. Grimaldi was Clown and when he was off, Norman stepped in to the part. He was seen in Dublin through till 1827 ... then at Edinburgh ... which is my last sighting of him.</div><div>He lived thirty years longer. Where? Married? Children? When did he go to the workhouse ...? He lies in Norwood Cemetery. Anyone like to pop in and see if this famous man's gravestone is still there ..?</div><div><br /></div><div>My time in Worcester has come to an end. I'll pop back up there from time to time to see if I can find another one or two of Crisp and Bennett's players ... but for now ... Au revoir.</div><div> </div></div>GEROLSTEINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08446253124724430879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8935297705846111801.post-50468834279671483592024-03-01T14:26:00.000-08:002024-03-01T14:38:40.691-08:00Theatre merchandising 1884: "Four Little Dudes"<p> </p><p>Today's nice bit of theatrical ephemera. All the way from San Francisco. And I can date it precisely .. to the day!</p><p>12 May 1884.</p><p>What I can't do, and I've tried, is name the girls -- I don't have a programme of the musical comedy <i>Pop! </i>from which this photo comes ...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha9HRnZAEUTANAHr2F4yJBSvNOl52gfE1n0WItddE6HrMo9j3_9_gTeekYIC37C1RLTRa0ENXKfqeNZqdjOjiNJfzVUkuLeB-ZVbugcJXcb_RknSDXiuu7wng8IxdJEJJsBHA-PZuQ1sSYSGdTkDgZ1V-SFnp43CQZDqmCTAg6yzYahM_tZs0zJxKJBKA/s1518/s-l1600-3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1518" data-original-width="1060" height="595" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha9HRnZAEUTANAHr2F4yJBSvNOl52gfE1n0WItddE6HrMo9j3_9_gTeekYIC37C1RLTRa0ENXKfqeNZqdjOjiNJfzVUkuLeB-ZVbugcJXcb_RknSDXiuu7wng8IxdJEJJsBHA-PZuQ1sSYSGdTkDgZ1V-SFnp43CQZDqmCTAg6yzYahM_tZs0zJxKJBKA/w415-h595/s-l1600-3.jpg" width="415" /></a></div><div><br /></div>These photos were given out, in the fashion of the time, as 'free gifts' on 'special' nights. I see there were others, less attractive ..<div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibO_EmlhaKJi1IrxiEGPq70qmajX3lmoPoEXKGA_IAsWH_Vp2UU5-ISWJ82IJUUuTGcb2bEv9pm4KJqK1iqquYroh_ehXQ6YbQAhgCITNyh-ms1A0YiRk9WUsrmFjFENXZ5imQH9L49QQfT-GH_kLrnu3oC9yBocmZXMY1lUx0Dh15ul10LXTa0o3b6vQ/s750/9e2f3b1641f8970aa396ccc5bb9b8acf.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="506" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibO_EmlhaKJi1IrxiEGPq70qmajX3lmoPoEXKGA_IAsWH_Vp2UU5-ISWJ82IJUUuTGcb2bEv9pm4KJqK1iqquYroh_ehXQ6YbQAhgCITNyh-ms1A0YiRk9WUsrmFjFENXZ5imQH9L49QQfT-GH_kLrnu3oC9yBocmZXMY1lUx0Dh15ul10LXTa0o3b6vQ/w432-h640/9e2f3b1641f8970aa396ccc5bb9b8acf.jpg" width="432" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHlRyChHE7eluUl2jjwrEqv-vQAwQeApkdqmdBhYr2Tquh5v-6LsXV7k6aHG9ymC_p-VtEXXPSX4MBytlOn1sYXJ-X6ScUMn2XbyfhRO7bERZoBACBQyDj4JiWWWevQ_QB4cFVsBKjG-qEsOGTYbJG_iZXrWBCnLUi9Cg4mrZmin6xfurgMz2CJMMOCP0/s975/scan0024.jpg.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="975" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHlRyChHE7eluUl2jjwrEqv-vQAwQeApkdqmdBhYr2Tquh5v-6LsXV7k6aHG9ymC_p-VtEXXPSX4MBytlOn1sYXJ-X6ScUMn2XbyfhRO7bERZoBACBQyDj4JiWWWevQ_QB4cFVsBKjG-qEsOGTYbJG_iZXrWBCnLUi9Cg4mrZmin6xfurgMz2CJMMOCP0/w420-h640/scan0024.jpg.webp" width="420" /></a></div><br /><div>Pop, by the way, was the name of the leading character, Adolphus Pop, played by James A Mackay. And the story was a regular farce comedy decorated with musical numbers, burlesques (<i>Romeo and Juliet, Pygmalion and Galatea, </i>Tirolean singers), impersonations, specialities and a pot pourri of songs from the shows. It called itself -- or its concocter, Edward Rice, called it -- 'A Highly Sensational, Melo-Dramatic, Operatic Comedy Melange'. It began in London, then moved in typical fashion, to 'the salon of the steamship <i>Scythia' </i>where an entertainment was given, tying up its ends in Union Square and the New York Police Courts. </div><div><br /></div><div>As was the usual case with this type of show, the musical portions and burlesques could be slipped in and out around Mackay's stand-up imitations and (English) Kate Castleton's twenty-second-hand musical hall song, introduced at London's Oxford and Pavilion Music Halls in 1877 ('a smart satirical topical effusion') and thereafter 'sung in the Principal Theatres throughout the Kingdom' as well as in the year's Covent Garden pantomime of <i>Puss in Boots </i>.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1hyphenhyphenlbAdvjJBdCy8v3BOkgNcn8t8-QfxuUS-bH9Cla7sqp1vIW5lUCnHOiE0B4PG-cFC-pcvWsQz8AlNRitEHD7T-2Oe2EJMg8O-sYK5TQPymBxTJre0G2QxYGpxIZjO-V24u6b3LY0_EBv60t5TSrAZ_jk4QKCwCzmPOkWu6UhzkEMb1sfvhSvAxSIiY/s1290/default.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1290" data-original-width="1000" height="485" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1hyphenhyphenlbAdvjJBdCy8v3BOkgNcn8t8-QfxuUS-bH9Cla7sqp1vIW5lUCnHOiE0B4PG-cFC-pcvWsQz8AlNRitEHD7T-2Oe2EJMg8O-sYK5TQPymBxTJre0G2QxYGpxIZjO-V24u6b3LY0_EBv60t5TSrAZ_jk4QKCwCzmPOkWu6UhzkEMb1sfvhSvAxSIiY/w376-h485/default.jpg" width="376" /></a></div><br /><div>Kate sang it in the garb of a Quakeress. </div><div><br /></div><div>The Four Little Dudes were introduced into the show during its New York run, in a Rice-made scena entitled plainly 'The Dudes'. 'Dudes' had become a fashionable term a year of two earlier, to describe the 'men-about-town', the crutch-n-toothpick, monocle-eyed creatures who lurked around stage-doors ... well, the type parodied later by Noel Coward in 'The Green Carnation'. Rice was never a man to miss putting a saddle on the latest topical trends ...</div><div><br /></div><div>His routine (surely there was a song?) was greatly successful .. 'the little dudes have become great favourites. Kate Castleton has introduced a couple of new songs'. A later review from Canada speaks of 'a chorus of dudes' but maybe four was considered a chorus?</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFN0wS8ianYy94l0WBw3tLKFvXZw00Gq2KyCIc2ffh4_uShjPhyphenhyphenDC83ZuPkhUr_N352zYR7dd6FtwvmrySYsPTlr1ZixcYKbh5WmNVLVBLrCGx5yP4vBBy-WxO01p5GzH4RQAcceoCh6mlhBTGJxqMPlfWjgM5urFGtiYNlBnP1Bu9qpq58d_nvzzFdCM/s273/DAC18840512.1.8-4711-1100-1093-893-273w.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="223" data-original-width="273" height="327" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFN0wS8ianYy94l0WBw3tLKFvXZw00Gq2KyCIc2ffh4_uShjPhyphenhyphenDC83ZuPkhUr_N352zYR7dd6FtwvmrySYsPTlr1ZixcYKbh5WmNVLVBLrCGx5yP4vBBy-WxO01p5GzH4RQAcceoCh6mlhBTGJxqMPlfWjgM5urFGtiYNlBnP1Bu9qpq58d_nvzzFdCM/w400-h327/DAC18840512.1.8-4711-1100-1093-893-273w.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgARVjJVwTx1rlXYhfZSN44Oe475kDZ4AiFzApz-MXmuLh-vLsInndJ1yJTb9Iz_GjjJ1a-u-_OYnNuTCOWmulRSYHothR-SCzmDM5BhO7JUyf2ng1wVj60VkN9Igr5WlOC8_79xNAcDp2hRteIMdtWlgqoce12-BWvv4KS2j_C4WDew3wf0-3fqaAlW3w/s287/SDU18840520.1.2-3929-488-741-1149-185w.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="287" data-original-width="185" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgARVjJVwTx1rlXYhfZSN44Oe475kDZ4AiFzApz-MXmuLh-vLsInndJ1yJTb9Iz_GjjJ1a-u-_OYnNuTCOWmulRSYHothR-SCzmDM5BhO7JUyf2ng1wVj60VkN9Igr5WlOC8_79xNAcDp2hRteIMdtWlgqoce12-BWvv4KS2j_C4WDew3wf0-3fqaAlW3w/w413-h640/SDU18840520.1.2-3929-488-741-1149-185w.jpg" width="413" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikgUyIPxmdtOc6DT6vpFGfLniLYhKQVGlzFVslE3tD1ryi5_H62ZNMZHiJdu0ka2ZdqtjZ71B0FUmB5l9yy7yZlXkhM7-sI4VMdz6uNz0Yh6sIYOWkYDWNz9kDwejOGXzzjulyym9HDsTxRYfBs8K97LAkjRkqgu2_bvxIjQFfIKfT1tRvNNBxcm3Tlho/s526/SDU18840520.1.3-2516-1644-790-2097-198w.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="526" data-original-width="198" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikgUyIPxmdtOc6DT6vpFGfLniLYhKQVGlzFVslE3tD1ryi5_H62ZNMZHiJdu0ka2ZdqtjZ71B0FUmB5l9yy7yZlXkhM7-sI4VMdz6uNz0Yh6sIYOWkYDWNz9kDwejOGXzzjulyym9HDsTxRYfBs8K97LAkjRkqgu2_bvxIjQFfIKfT1tRvNNBxcm3Tlho/w240-h640/SDU18840520.1.3-2516-1644-790-2097-198w.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div>Well, some day I will hap upon a Californian programme which tells us who the little dudes were. Number three looks as if she had promise ...!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p></div></div>GEROLSTEINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08446253124724430879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8935297705846111801.post-90968591523740645282024-02-26T20:22:00.000-08:002024-03-06T12:10:25.588-08:00The York circuit 1843 or, another tenor<p> </p><p>Another splendid ebay find ...</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghlrZHeClbPngW5aQc4jsJyxPn5urokv1XtEzG3V98P317IXbBTEExhPPfrn2cwsH2a88723vD-QScLzTzzr8Knz0T1TKjnapzePuJqys6Tu6kYFfjw-VOWOJtOpL-2kNPQL77z-cwTqdi2sncSsif97R6cVwZGyt_HPKL4WrYQurdH6BRvLjNcMGoww4/s1600/York%2042%20GF%20Gardener.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1111" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghlrZHeClbPngW5aQc4jsJyxPn5urokv1XtEzG3V98P317IXbBTEExhPPfrn2cwsH2a88723vD-QScLzTzzr8Knz0T1TKjnapzePuJqys6Tu6kYFfjw-VOWOJtOpL-2kNPQL77z-cwTqdi2sncSsif97R6cVwZGyt_HPKL4WrYQurdH6BRvLjNcMGoww4/w444-h640/York%2042%20GF%20Gardener.png" width="444" /></a></div>The Theatre Royal, York. 1843. OK fair bit of research to do here although there are a number of names there I recognise.<p></p><p>One of them is that of Frederick Gardner, who Mr Pritchard clearly thought was his star card. Well, I suppose he was a tenor ...</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><b><span lang="EN-AU">GARDNER, Frederick </span></b><span lang="EN-AU">(b Manchester, ?c1811; d Fostoria, Ohio 11 January 1898)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">There are some artists who flash across the musical and theatrical scene, leaving little clue as to whence they came, or whither they went. When the young Mr Frederick Gardner was whisked off to New York, as the leading tenor for Mr Rophino Lacy’s vastly-puffed daughter’s operatic troupe, one could very well have said ‘who?’ But Fred actually had been a few years on the stage. Even if he wouldn’t be for very more.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">But, with a little help from my friend Betsy, and the <i>Burlington Hawk-Eye</i>, I’ve managed to find out who he was. He was born in Lancashire, son to a John Gardner who, in the 1841 census calls himself a ‘broker’. Fred, aged 20 (30, surely?) is a professor of music, and there is a Louisa, probably a sister, completing the family at 22 Norton Street, Liverpool.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">The <i>Hawk-Eye </i>claims he was educated at Oxford, sang in the Westminster [Abbey] choir, sang at Victoria’s coronation, and was an operatic tenor in ‘London and many cities in Europe’. It also claims he had a degree, a doctorate, in music – from Oxford? – and, well, I think we can dismiss all that. The biography gets provably imaginary later on.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">My first confirmable sighting of Fred as a performer is at the little Liver Theatre, Liverpool, mostly a home for conjurors and contortionists, and occasionally for dramatic seasons. The Liver was little advertised or reviewed, but on 15 March he sang ‘a favourite song’ at the Benefit of the Box Book Keeper, and 20 March 1839, he himself took a Benefit there, acting Walter Barnard in <i>The Rover’s Bride</i>, so I imagine he had played some sort of a little season there. Later that year, he seems to have got a job at the suburban London Pavilion Theatre (<i>Whitsun Eve, Jack Sheppard</i>) -- ‘this gentleman is a better actor than the generality of singers and will become a favourite’ ‘sang a pretty ballad ‘My Childhood’s Happy Home’ -- but by January he was back at the Liver Theatre, playing opposite Mrs Waylett, in her starring visit with a pasticcio version of Auber’s <i>The Fairy Lake </i>(‘This gentleman, a pupil of Mr A Lee, is rapidly progressing’)<i>.</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">In 1840, he was at the Theatre Royal, Leicester, and in 1841 he was taken on by the Lacy-Delcy machine, to take the second tenor parts, behind Templeton, playing Alidoro in <i>Cinderella</i> and Lorenzo in <i>Fra Diavolo, </i>at Liverpool and Manchester. The advertising assures us that he is ‘of the Theatre Royal, Bath’ and a pupil of Tom Welsh. Which doesn’t get ‘revealed’ anywhere else.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">Back at Leicester, the press advised him: ‘We would advise Mr G to confine himself principally to simple ballads – they please more than such songs as ‘I love her’, which are difficult rather than pretty, and which require, for their execution, strong lungs rather than taste’. Which makes it rather sound as if he were not a robust tenor.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">He played at Leeds (‘The execution of Mr Gardner is somewhat too rapid and his articulation occasionally a little indistinct’), Hereford and at Hull, where he was musical director for the plays and sang the incidental songs in <i>As You Like It</i> and <i>The Merchant of Venice. And, as we see, at York.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">In 1844, he was engaged for London’s Princess’s Theatre. He made his ‘first appearance in London’ (so was he not the F Gardner at the Pavilion?) in the role of Rodrigo in <i>Othello </i>alongside Allen and Madame Garcia. ‘A new tenor imported from the United States … he sings with discretion, but lacks refinement of style. The quality of his voice, however, is good…’ The United States? ‘A Mr F Gardner from New York debuted as Rodrigo; he is a tenor, very unequal and of faulty style; he has much to earn, or rather to unlearn ... Voice he has; yet there is such a thing as taste, which must be either good or bad, so the sooner he gets Yankee-land out of his head the better...’ But what is this United States?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">On 2 May, the Princess’s opened <i>The Crown Diamonds</i> with Anna Thillon as star. Gardner was cast in the role of Don Sebastian for the two months’ run, and then announced as a member of the operatic troupe for none less than the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">In his term at the Lane, Gardner appeared as Ottokar in <i>Der Freischütz, </i>alongside Miss Delcy and King, as the French Knight in Balfe’s new <i>The Daughter of St Mark </i>and as Fernando in <i>Fidelio, </i>but at the end of the season he landed himself a promotion. To leading tenor, for the Lacys visit to America under the management of Mr Simpson of the Park Theatre.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">The history of Miss Delcy’s career in America is told by me at length elsewhere. Gardner, Brough and the weak local cast hired to support the lady were virtually ignored, amid all the fuss and fights that characterised the Lacy tour of a little of America. </span>Gardner got to sing Elvino, Max ka Rudolph, Edgardo, Fra Diavolo and Felix in the shadow of the ‘star’. One of the few American reviews I have culled allows him a nice voice, but accuses him of singing out of tune most of the time. Not one claims him as a New Yorker!</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">The Lacys returned to Britain, and gave a few performances of their operas in Dublin (4 May 1846) and at the Liverpool Adelphi (15 May). His hometown press referred to ‘a rich tenor’ ‘adequate to the part he had undertaken’… and as far as I can see, never referred to him again. Neither did anyone else in Britain. </span>Miss Delcy and her career were finished, and we know what happened to her. But so, evidently, was that of her leading man. What became of him? Well, he went back to America. But he doesn’t seem to have sung much more. I spot him in 1850, a ‘professor of music’ aged 30, in Detroit. In 1851, he can be seen for a while touring with the Seguin troupe (Thaddeus, Elvino). After which he apparently turned to minstrelling.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">Fred Gardner aged 51 ‘music teacher’ and ‘born England’, married to a Sarah (Sallie née Bell) from Lebanon, Ohio (31) with children Belle V, Fred Corwin and Rose E, (and Grace to follow in 1876) is living in Center Township, Henry, Iowa in 1870. He was apparently employed as a teacher at the Iowa Weslyan University. But the <i>Hawk-Eye</i> fills in the gap, telling us that ‘in 1851, he completed a four years’ course in medicine and surgery’ and practiced in medicine until disabled by arthritis. Yet he still called himself ‘professor of music’?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"> </span>The 1880 census shows the family, with Sallie and Belle teaching music, still in Mount Pleasant, but no Fred. But he’s there somewhere. Because he goes on to be a teacher at the Ladies’ Seminary of Arcadia, Louisiana before his retirement.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">In 1900, Sarah Bell Gardner (b November 1846) is living in Seneca Ohio with Fred jr and Rose. And a fifth child, Harry, born in New York in 1881. But Fred has gone. Allegedly, aged 87. I wonder how the <i>Hawk-Eye</i> knew that.<span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">A rather more substantial member of the company was the bass Patrick Corri. The Corri family and their contribution to music and theatre in Britain have been written about at length, so I'll just pop in a few facts. And they show us that this season was a 'soon-to-be family' </span>affair:</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times, serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">CORRI, Pat[rick Constantine</span></b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">] (b Scotland c 1820;<b> </b>d Bradford, 15 June 1876)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times, serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">married<b> Mary Jane WOULDS </b>(b Clifton x 5 June 1821; d 1906)<b> </b></span><span lang="EN-AU" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">daughter of Jas Woulds of the Theatre Royal, Bath & Charlotte Mary née SMITH, Birmingham 2 April 1844<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times, serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">Three in one blow! We see them in the 1851 census in <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Shoreditch 3 Queens Row. Patricius Constantine sic 29, dramatic artist, b Scotland, Mary Jane 29 wife</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">,</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> with</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Haydn Woulds, Elinor Constance, William Smith,</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> and </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Henry Bishop Corri,</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">plus Elizabeth Woulds 24 actress and Louisa Woulds 23 dancer</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> nextdoor is Charlotte Bishop (nee Woulds) prof mus, with visitor </span><b style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">James WOULDS</b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> 61 comedian and Alicia Woulds actress & harpist 28</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Pat was a stalwart of the British stage -- notably, a long time star at the Grecian ... but microsoft ate my large article and family tree ... and I'm blowed if I'm doing it all over.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">I suppose we'd better start with the producer, <b>John Langford PRITCHARD </b>(b 1799; d Leeds 8 August 1850). I'm not researching him either, because, to my amazement he has been given an entry in the <i>Dictionary of National Biography. </i>It enumerates the items in his solid but unspectacular acting career, and finishes off saying that he went latterly north. That he did, and there leased the York Circuit of theatres -- Hull, York and Leeds. He seems to have satisfied his audiences well, for nine consecutive years, before, to general regret, being forced to retire by ill-health. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4o6iQ5LVkeGvtKiP0CWJzmlT9uefqfDzKa_BlEMZWl6Kx5jvUud3P7A1VKcunCmmiWbjv8h-kwgxqVfxFGEcTjHLv2wQLfumIB0WTDk_ZiYuq-C3HyCmeEYMCbEGqdjyZJJCoLWgBKl3OT5Myn19bAmmN4I_l496RziN7AjDvNvnscBJ_Ui8xVQ8G8r4/s746/prit.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="746" data-original-width="208" height="924" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4o6iQ5LVkeGvtKiP0CWJzmlT9uefqfDzKa_BlEMZWl6Kx5jvUud3P7A1VKcunCmmiWbjv8h-kwgxqVfxFGEcTjHLv2wQLfumIB0WTDk_ZiYuq-C3HyCmeEYMCbEGqdjyZJJCoLWgBKl3OT5Myn19bAmmN4I_l496RziN7AjDvNvnscBJ_Ui8xVQ8G8r4/w257-h924/prit.jpg" width="257" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><b style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Alfred Edward REYNOLDS </b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">(b Norfolk c 1799; d Maybury, Woking March 1879) was a real stalwart, although only ever a useful actor. He began in the theatre in his earliest teens, but found his place as an acting and company manager almost entirely on the northern circuits. He is reported to have been for 23 years acting manager of the York Circuit. I have found the death of his wife, Jane, in Sunderland 28 May 1860, and their daughter Jane Florence (Mrs Matthew Francis) 'of the Theatre Royal, Worcester' 27 January 1877, but father? The last I see of him he is a pensioner of the Royal Dramatic College at Woking, in 1871 ... </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">PS Nick Kurn went to Woking and found his death registration, in 1879. Buried in Brookwood Cemetery ...</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><b>William GOURLAY</b> (b Edinburgh c 1815; d 80 Great Western Rd, 3 February 1883) seems to have been pretty much of a new boy. He had married Miss Louisa Ryder in 1841 and they, now, came as a pair. He'd been purveying comic songs in Hull ... for he was condemned to the comic: he was known as 'wee Gourlay'. Anyway, Louisa is the Mrs in our playbill. But she died aged 34 and he remarried a Susan M TAYLOR and had lots of bairns. He had a jolly career, which took him as far as London ... ever with the tag 'the popular Scottish comedian'. I wonder if he were an ancestor of the Gourlay of <i>Skipped by the Light of the Moon.</i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOTju5FxnpWtXlrOLiRL8jQEwQxOcBP_y-f8UJJtxSa59Xu9l1LS1UtHbX1IJfbSmIv7IzpafcWWx_fkT0vbQaBN2LPC5qy3p7WCm2e4-N85w24aeQL5QHCGMY3emtD1Ad3RedNlkp_EO0eIiIxO64DBnD0hdFqxnF2ZQV7rJURBx4luPOPwK94GCREVs/s4032/UNCEM_1974326_0fa470e3-25dc-4552-b1cc-fd218d1891cc.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOTju5FxnpWtXlrOLiRL8jQEwQxOcBP_y-f8UJJtxSa59Xu9l1LS1UtHbX1IJfbSmIv7IzpafcWWx_fkT0vbQaBN2LPC5qy3p7WCm2e4-N85w24aeQL5QHCGMY3emtD1Ad3RedNlkp_EO0eIiIxO64DBnD0hdFqxnF2ZQV7rJURBx4luPOPwK94GCREVs/w480-h640/UNCEM_1974326_0fa470e3-25dc-4552-b1cc-fd218d1891cc.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Perhaps the most famous name on the bill, however, is that of Gomersal, for the family left a mark on the theatrical world from London to Yorkshire to the United States.</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Grandfather Edward Alexander Gomersal (b 1788; d Portland Cresc, Leeds 19 October 1862) 'the Napoleon of Astley's' had made himself celebrated by his portrayal of the Buonaparte in <i>The Battle of Waterloo</i>. He had been lessee of the Garrick Theatre, and later became landlord of the Wellington Hotel, Leeds. In the 1851 census, with his third daughter and his wife in Market Place, Stockport, he describes himself as 'an old comedian'. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGG_QYT3kJXRzovJHAfGNwqVKP20H_77jyIqYCvQUvwoIR5EDeVfDdNTpHm0QHHwSfJvHmzjyzMdmD_3Kfa35UBm3pJYM2jUe_Nv9OAjwAZ0wO6yYUIuwd7O1ClWxYTZedzXOXV1oZ04wXFHabBzBpNc76YnMeEFNfv4MaSG90VH1U_2Q_eSHCvhVK9kA/s248/Unknown.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="248" data-original-width="203" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGG_QYT3kJXRzovJHAfGNwqVKP20H_77jyIqYCvQUvwoIR5EDeVfDdNTpHm0QHHwSfJvHmzjyzMdmD_3Kfa35UBm3pJYM2jUe_Nv9OAjwAZ0wO6yYUIuwd7O1ClWxYTZedzXOXV1oZ04wXFHabBzBpNc76YnMeEFNfv4MaSG90VH1U_2Q_eSHCvhVK9kA/w328-h400/Unknown.jpeg" width="328" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The Mr Gomersal on our bill is son number one (?), at the beginning of his career. [</span><b style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Edward] William GOMERSAL </b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">(b Stangate St, London 12 May 1817; d NYC 3 October 1863). Not to be confused with his brother <b>William James GOMERSAL </b>(b Stangate St, x 20 February 1828; d Claines, Worcs 19 May 1902) who had a much longer career as actor and theatre manager (Sheffield, Aberdeen, Norwich, and 22 years at Worcester) and who penned his memoirs as <i>Anecdotes of the Stage </i>(Worcestershire Publishing Co, 1891). </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcHgvvORHCpWs572eHxtmcyHBGJqBxGEBea5gFNHbsQDyBlGV_37S2sqb5VgcTdnq4Cgb0dEWMNksnFFgcSVMEtKrOKM1x_OCVednRbvvqJnve9UPSTr7UoiI0xhRAPFmyIRQBxobTm4lPXYT95CHLfZu7TJueXtmih9B_5GJbB7Gr0Q4A847DtD6dZ4I/s262/NYC18631114.1.3-1844-895-1046-927-262w.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="232" data-original-width="262" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcHgvvORHCpWs572eHxtmcyHBGJqBxGEBea5gFNHbsQDyBlGV_37S2sqb5VgcTdnq4Cgb0dEWMNksnFFgcSVMEtKrOKM1x_OCVednRbvvqJnve9UPSTr7UoiI0xhRAPFmyIRQBxobTm4lPXYT95CHLfZu7TJueXtmih9B_5GJbB7Gr0Q4A847DtD6dZ4I/w400-h354/NYC18631114.1.3-1844-895-1046-927-262w.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">William and his wife, Maria, spent 1863-1868 in America, where Mrs became the first actress to sing <i>La Grande-Duchesse de Gérolstein </i>in English. Thereafter girlies with the Gomersal surname surfaced regularly, which I guess was a compliment. The real Gomersals of Yorkshire carried on ..</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>SAUNDERS</b>. Three of 'em. Pretty well impossible. Well, I've sort of got two of them, maybe three. Yes, three! 'Died Manchester 30 January 1846 aged 54 years Mr William Saunders, father of Mr John and Miss Saunders of the Theatre Royal, and of Mr H Saunders of the Royal Amphitheatre ...'</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>John [Henry] SAUNDERS </b>comedian. He first appears to my eyes in York in 1840 for race week. Then at the end of the year both he and Mr H Saunders are engaged in the lower parts of the bill for Mr Hooper's company at Hull. When he played Pedro (ie Buttons) in the panto he was told he would be 'a useful actor' if he didn't fidget. When they moved on to Leeds he did 'a comic dance'. Mr H Saunders did a pas de deux with a Miss Andrews. In 1842, the two Saunders gents were still at Hull, John taking good supportingroles, Henry doing his dances, with a Miss Hunt. But by Pritchard time 'Miss Saunders' (the press assured us that she was Henry's sister) arrived. She sings duet with Miss Woulds and dances with Henry ... </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Back to John. He had a good provincial career: the York circuit, Sheffield, Manchester, Dublin, Brighton, more and more Sheffield, Bristol and billed as 'from the Theatre Royal, Westminster at Liverpool, Sunderland but an umpteenth return to Sheffield ended in disaster when he lost all his <i>Streets of London</i> props in a theatre fire. I see him at Cheltenham in 1866, and at Dewsbury in 1871 .. there he is with his family in Sheffield 'born 1821' with three children .. and I lose him. In 1881 his (second) wife Eliza Levy is a widow ... </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>Mr Henry SAUNDERS.</b> I see him in 1838 at Edinburgh playing 'a sailor'. The other sailor is 'Mr Saunders'. I see him doing the Union Flag Dance in 1838 with Mrs Redford and 'his sister Miss Saunders'. 1840, its Mr J Saunders and Mr H at Hull. 1841-2 dancing on the York Circuit (with Mr J). 1845 he's Harlequin .. again 1848 at Liverpool .. 1850 principal dancer at the City of London Theatre under E F Saville. More Harlequin at the Standard then 1853 at Dublin .. eh? scenery by? ah no .. Harlequin again 1854 .. the Strand Theatre (1855) ... </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>Miss SAUNDERS. </b>Well, I thought I had found her. Miss Rose Saunders and her brother George Lemon Saunders set up as singing and dancing teachers in Sheffield. She had dance-trained in France, it was said. Then there was Miss Saunders the Yorkshire singer, launched noisily with Mrs Sunderland ... More delving required here. Where is papa William in C41? </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Well, I tried.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>Eliza GATES? </b>Well, she was not the usual kind of nymphet dancer seen in theatres. I spot her as early as 1832, at the Blue Horse Inn, Spittlegate, Grantham, doing an unspecified dance on a programme with Mr and Mrs Gates. Papa and Mama? I see her dancing at Preston in 1835, Manchester in 1836, but after her appearances on the York Circuit she was picked up by London and made her appearance 'little and light of toe, but ..' at the Olympic Theatre, 4 December 1843, giving her 'Poetry in motion' and the Cracovienne she'd performed in Yorkshire. She was Columbine at Christmas, performed a duo with Flexmore, and in August 1844 it came to an end. Married? Dead? Nobody seems to have noticed. Oh! But I do see this! Died, 7 July 1838, Mrs Gates wife of Mr Gates comedian of the Queen's Theatre [Manchester]'. More work needed.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>Miss E JOHNSON </b>seems to have had a short career round the York circuits, and is maybe one of Miss EJs who married local worthies...</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>J C PELHAM </b>was undoubtedly a stage name. Mr J C Pelham was a well-known politician .. Maybe he was the Mr Pelham who got rubbished at the Windsor Theatre in 1841 ('the poor man continues to blunder throught his difficult parts with unprecedented stupidity ..'). Now, under Pritchard, he is 'J P Pelham'. He plays Robin in <i>The Waterman </i>(not a loved role!). Is it he singing Irish songs? Playing bits at the Surrey? Who knows. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">You don't really think I'm going to attempt 'Mdlle Orelia'? She seems to have been all right for a few seasons.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">I think that's enough. This article was really for Fred. I'll post it, forget it, and in a few years if the genealogical experts hav'n't sorted out stuff .. I'll have another go.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Gen Expert Gina has come up with this ... another Mrs Gates?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvu6Nd3bxzg2fsJFYh4_89Z-Gita-Ajmx963qsX1c2exVnM2tg5URAc2klbGNS1YNut18QFWv6_BcunslknAiY29pAo5J8e0AqahQ_h0GPCthLA6CU4qHNNGLE_Uhq793VI0FuO9z8dUnH0dNAFAxmugbdPNJmQVt4HVKh2PmQRTk4zULn8TR3iXMUrzk/s258/gates.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="118" data-original-width="258" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvu6Nd3bxzg2fsJFYh4_89Z-Gita-Ajmx963qsX1c2exVnM2tg5URAc2klbGNS1YNut18QFWv6_BcunslknAiY29pAo5J8e0AqahQ_h0GPCthLA6CU4qHNNGLE_Uhq793VI0FuO9z8dUnH0dNAFAxmugbdPNJmQVt4HVKh2PmQRTk4zULn8TR3iXMUrzk/w400-h183/gates.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p>GEROLSTEINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08446253124724430879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8935297705846111801.post-62063123464465384782024-02-24T17:38:00.000-08:002024-03-02T11:23:08.251-08:00Pretty Minnie: a Gaiety girl gone too soon ...<p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>This lovely photo came up in my daily ebay trawl ...</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKHdXyh1j3BlsVvTMi1hXRRndLM1AyUBHPl2Ekc77BWO5k_GdX_s4wlYvNXnC_r4do991JA6roRCWSD1e76Kw0hnRw185YduQUe-mohNvHPnAVACxKh_Za-dmSiDJZfmzvB7DktCf6zO38-AEXHqDV-UCl425gucs_w7lJmtCRRqSlK2EhW3F6iSn2z_c/s896/Ross%20Min%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="896" data-original-width="571" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKHdXyh1j3BlsVvTMi1hXRRndLM1AyUBHPl2Ekc77BWO5k_GdX_s4wlYvNXnC_r4do991JA6roRCWSD1e76Kw0hnRw185YduQUe-mohNvHPnAVACxKh_Za-dmSiDJZfmzvB7DktCf6zO38-AEXHqDV-UCl425gucs_w7lJmtCRRqSlK2EhW3F6iSn2z_c/w408-h640/Ross%20Min%202.jpg" width="408" /></a></div><br /><p>Well, I think she is lovely. And named, too. Here goes my morning. Like Lalage Potts, 'I want to know'.</p><p>I didn't know what I was getting into. But, after heavy delving, here are the answers.</p><p><b>Minnie ROSS [ROSS, Williamina] </b>(b 17 Montieth Row, Calton, Glasgow 22 June 1863; d Ventnor, Isle of Wight 22 December 1892) was one of the multiple daughters of 'actor' William Gribbon Ross and his second wife Maria née Moroney from Embly, Tipperary.</p><p>Gribbon? Oh, blimey, this is W G ROSS (b 31 July 1819; d 23 April 1881) of 'Sam Hall' megafame. Well, I shan't delve too deeply into his details: he must be in every book ever written about the Halls ..</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzA9qFAClUZp1xZJvs8KERkkL7PQM4F97Rve1kKt1xINNsmnWEUGLSAmhyNTrXSvyLBlCTVMXYCPRYXoxtYPrEPlsIKk4RzNMrXX6zvWzq-DTBmln1yLa_a12mEyJ4fJUqhmvRFcjz38z3beAC1rvzI0_h2jAwojIl9T2Ow-mtLXOmqDSh6zeX3V9ig5o/s263/Mr_W._G._Ross,_in_the_character_of_Sam_Hall_(BM_1871,0812.1871).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="263" data-original-width="220" height="574" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzA9qFAClUZp1xZJvs8KERkkL7PQM4F97Rve1kKt1xINNsmnWEUGLSAmhyNTrXSvyLBlCTVMXYCPRYXoxtYPrEPlsIKk4RzNMrXX6zvWzq-DTBmln1yLa_a12mEyJ4fJUqhmvRFcjz38z3beAC1rvzI0_h2jAwojIl9T2Ow-mtLXOmqDSh6zeX3V9ig5o/w480-h574/Mr_W._G._Ross,_in_the_character_of_Sam_Hall_(BM_1871,0812.1871).jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p>Ross had begun his career in Scotland .. I see him performing there in 1845 ...</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1LkyEH30KQMjO7kmmF40-LFsqDLugaADcl_ivshvy2I51DUvKoSMfZ8bu9lYBRP__31B3qEz3ymdwhALj1IEISN5xYStk8daEu0y0l9QuGXQtAmYFd36Iy40rLcK8PURiBCaqNXcrdpGSdlm6LwTPSNe_-QRxhdyEdOIOXVdkxbZ8i-DZwiIFskLiwlA/s343/Glasgow%2045.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="239" data-original-width="343" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1LkyEH30KQMjO7kmmF40-LFsqDLugaADcl_ivshvy2I51DUvKoSMfZ8bu9lYBRP__31B3qEz3ymdwhALj1IEISN5xYStk8daEu0y0l9QuGXQtAmYFd36Iy40rLcK8PURiBCaqNXcrdpGSdlm6LwTPSNe_-QRxhdyEdOIOXVdkxbZ8i-DZwiIFskLiwlA/w350-h244/Glasgow%2045.jpg" width="350" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>but by 1848 he had moved to London. He found a niche for his character songs at the Cyder Cellars, where his songs 'Mr(s) Johnson' and, especially 'Sam Hall' with its portrayal of a condemned chimey-sweep and its volley of violent oaths, proved a major hit. W G Ross and 'Sam Hall' were inseparable thereafter.</p><p>His family. Well, as far as I can see, he had one daughter (Lillian) by his first wife, Jane née MILLER, then after his marriage to Mary Moroney (Argyll, 19 September 1853) I pick from the censi Sarah Margaret (21 November 1853), Maria Emma (30 June 1855), Isabella (30 March 1857), Elizabeth Kate (Clerkenwell 30 March 1859), Ada Mary (1861), Emma L, and Minnie .. ..</p><p>Few lived long lives. Elizabeth died as an infant, Lillian (Mrs Geo T Saunders) died 28 February 1875 aged 32, Sarah died 1877 aged 23, Isabel 'actress' died aged 24 (10 December 1881) ... I'm not sure whether Emma L is fact or fiction ...</p><p>Only Maria Emily (Mrs Geo Abraham Riley) who died in Quebec in 1933, and Ada Mary (Mrs, Wm Robt Shephard, Mrs Geo A Hill) who died in Edmonton in September 1933 survived (with mother) into the 20th century. </p><p>Although Isabel described herself as an 'actress' (she was a 'fancy box maker' in C71), Minnie seems to have been the only one of the Ross girls to go into the theatre. And she went early. In April 1877 already I see her playing a bit in <i>The Flying Scud </i>and 'Sugarcandos' in <i>Sinbad</i> at the Glasgow, the next year being decoration in Annie Baldwin's company and principal girl in <i>Bluebeard</i> in Glasgow. She went on the road with George Capel's modest companies and the Majiltons, appeared at Islington, as another panto Princess, at Bristol, as principal boy as the North Woolwich Gardens, as Little Red Riding Hood at York (our picture?) and went on the road in <i>Taken from Life ... </i>a modest record, but she was not yet twenty!</p><p>She played the genie of the lamp in <i>Aladdin </i>at Glasgow, played in Mark Melford's <i>A Reign of Terror </i>with Violet Melnotte, 'light comedy, soubrettes and burlesque'. Then she got a fine job. The term 'Gaiety girl' was not yet in current use, but that's what Minnie became. She joined George Edwardes's <i>Monte Cristo jr </i>tour<i> </i>company as Babette, continued into <i>Faust up to Date </i>('a waitress') and <i>Carmen up to Data </i>('an hidalgo'). The latter show ended in July 1891, but she didn't go on into the next Gaiety piece...</p><p>Pretty Minnie Ross died in Ventnor at the end of 1892. Ventnor? Was she there for her health? What was wrong with her health? A death certificate could assuage my curiosity. But her death registration says she was 25. She wasn't. She was 29 going on 30. Strange, how folk seem to think it needful to shave their age after they are dead. Is there a man in the case? No sign of one. But I do note that she claimed in the 1891 census to be living on her income. </p><p>You are a wee bit of a puzzle, Minnie. But I am sorry you died so young and beautiful.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq4rE11baBD45GQQJjf0sUEUi_Vn1cHSVvixsJB8R66QHqrWpj0YAuPB51cjjOoX0pZaNb9mDjrTWgtrySeisTxbQw9SNxG9CiH3zLRgiXez08FRoY0zoQ8PEaMcMxiwDOmJjT9W39TfOD2SHOuIH5Lg67OgoLFXigh0gEMhztgK1CFc4gGd95CtkW84s/s960/s-l960.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq4rE11baBD45GQQJjf0sUEUi_Vn1cHSVvixsJB8R66QHqrWpj0YAuPB51cjjOoX0pZaNb9mDjrTWgtrySeisTxbQw9SNxG9CiH3zLRgiXez08FRoY0zoQ8PEaMcMxiwDOmJjT9W39TfOD2SHOuIH5Lg67OgoLFXigh0gEMhztgK1CFc4gGd95CtkW84s/w480-h640/s-l960.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p> </p><p><br /></p>GEROLSTEINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08446253124724430879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8935297705846111801.post-8350117081103702442024-02-22T14:11:00.000-08:002024-02-22T14:57:35.159-08:00Theatre Royal, Plymouth 1861<p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>A culling of ebay this week brought up an amazing series of playbills from an 1861 season at the very consequent Theatre Royal at Plymouth.</p><p>A season, in the glorious Victorian days, was not host to today's dreary 'every night' productions of one show. That kind of theatrical constipation had not -- in the days before films, television, and only in the early days of the music halls -- not yet arrived.</p><p>A country manager took a theatre for a season of weeks or months, hired himself a company and, sometimes, even, lured the odd guest 'star' to Stockport or Scarbough for a night or two, and put on a series of performances with which he hoped to attract sufficient of the local populace to witness a nightly changing bill of drama, comedy, dance, music ... If he were a canny caster, and could hire himself young actors and particularly actresses who became 'local favourites, he could get the same audience back for a new sixpence worth night after night ...</p><p>These 'seasons' were particularly potentially profitable when there was a daytime attraction pulling patrons to the town .. the local race meeting (Doncaster and Newmarket theatres always opened their doors in race weeks), or a regatta ... and this was the case here. Manager J R Newcombe (who was the expert maestro of the Plymouth theatre for many, many years) opened his theatre for the races in 1861 ...</p><p>The first night, with his new company (including some members of his last season's company) was 19 August, when he presented <i>Twelfth Night </i>featuring local favourites James O'Sullivan (Orsino) and Kate Ranoe (Olivia) and the young Fanny Addison as Viola.</p><p>The first bills I have are for the 23rd and 24th. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYlmTNoCtXl5HjxgjAS__WOKeOnKlxFTLHGpgY_K_gwxXLjeIrqfhuArHoTu7VMQ-DUB08PETZll0LTMt_1XRGsCUYMWcXrKf9yzRnX4pVQ7JDRrzdmxQyLuGsVC0rgP-CZonA0vJZ4keFIpXW-Z6kFeGlgbKzFliOCDJKn8bCy49j6lhbKU4v_4MlOSo/s1262/23%20August.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1262" data-original-width="721" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYlmTNoCtXl5HjxgjAS__WOKeOnKlxFTLHGpgY_K_gwxXLjeIrqfhuArHoTu7VMQ-DUB08PETZll0LTMt_1XRGsCUYMWcXrKf9yzRnX4pVQ7JDRrzdmxQyLuGsVC0rgP-CZonA0vJZ4keFIpXW-Z6kFeGlgbKzFliOCDJKn8bCy49j6lhbKU4v_4MlOSo/w366-h640/23%20August.jpeg" width="366" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKWeieqOltf7NyJHhPxsaLKKhEVXlw9UjJ5xLRZkMo_lV5lkSuzlOaKhMlh22eQpLgSZm9M_3VqbH4GxhPhMDdljvG8C7mGTr_kbFWfqXv6YiGbbCs6Y5buUSfpfiYec9IEc3EQ4DtDlQJXOrPecBf94xz2Lt1ekTFyTJvXl_OYOJa2dNAF5wJG5ZBvQc/s1318/24%20August.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1318" data-original-width="732" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKWeieqOltf7NyJHhPxsaLKKhEVXlw9UjJ5xLRZkMo_lV5lkSuzlOaKhMlh22eQpLgSZm9M_3VqbH4GxhPhMDdljvG8C7mGTr_kbFWfqXv6YiGbbCs6Y5buUSfpfiYec9IEc3EQ4DtDlQJXOrPecBf94xz2Lt1ekTFyTJvXl_OYOJa2dNAF5wJG5ZBvQc/w356-h640/24%20August.jpeg" width="356" /></a></div><div><br /></div> I am not sure whether they played six nights a week<div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoavCbIxkYAlIgDfLkmfw_RaXX0gJyAGVmWKWEGZhE4uE2elS6u0J1ZspuCZ-QHYMdMaYo5Aw3NOdMy9xycMAEZbyasXAubHomVpBHtQmIpTuNrxYnZQmqh6dwUC2VDG8O5A_BBue4soQy4AhgbXe8hyphenhyphen1G3zJfTxwrK9HlWvg8FtDiAeFE4wo7NyFHLq8/s1356/30%20Aug.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1356" data-original-width="1017" height="564" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoavCbIxkYAlIgDfLkmfw_RaXX0gJyAGVmWKWEGZhE4uE2elS6u0J1ZspuCZ-QHYMdMaYo5Aw3NOdMy9xycMAEZbyasXAubHomVpBHtQmIpTuNrxYnZQmqh6dwUC2VDG8O5A_BBue4soQy4AhgbXe8hyphenhyphen1G3zJfTxwrK9HlWvg8FtDiAeFE4wo7NyFHLq8/w423-h564/30%20Aug.jpg" width="423" /></a></div><br /><div>But the second Friday seems to have been the money night, with no less a celebrity than horse racing's Admiral Rous's presence for the occasion billed larger than any of the players. <br /><p>The next week ...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgNePQYYjTXhyphenhyphenS-lHV-HtKi5TBkuQfuWSfeuufW7P61pFgdRx5lb9h5lU2Di1n2JtLSMZxzCllJ0LRTHhyphenhyphenqZYWIb36bIGAMDPuFcsgBzCdEEGqEyIfSsxQpGFGUpD7S81PmmKV_8rMMcaEaTHtCmEV2yScb7-uGRaTyY3tWT0Lt0n1jPcJfi60EzlAz5o/s1258/4%20Sept.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1258" data-original-width="944" height="579" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgNePQYYjTXhyphenhyphenS-lHV-HtKi5TBkuQfuWSfeuufW7P61pFgdRx5lb9h5lU2Di1n2JtLSMZxzCllJ0LRTHhyphenhyphenqZYWIb36bIGAMDPuFcsgBzCdEEGqEyIfSsxQpGFGUpD7S81PmmKV_8rMMcaEaTHtCmEV2yScb7-uGRaTyY3tWT0Lt0n1jPcJfi60EzlAz5o/w435-h579/4%20Sept.jpg" width="435" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpPlimvwU6L70GB523LiFGOXA7Hb0L2OlpxPC7XLbZk-6vP8rPbwuFvvUrmcf61gvx32k29zqjneUakquuK-zPSez8k5rq8TZRfid7rnmb2A1R6lhfCqJvYjLyFLcXK8Xk-yOv4_6thzi79eZbpULn7XMsI3Z8J6-fdsbVIxIPwWFrGk4jpqIBSRrJQXs/s1258/7%20September.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1258" data-original-width="951" height="562" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpPlimvwU6L70GB523LiFGOXA7Hb0L2OlpxPC7XLbZk-6vP8rPbwuFvvUrmcf61gvx32k29zqjneUakquuK-zPSez8k5rq8TZRfid7rnmb2A1R6lhfCqJvYjLyFLcXK8Xk-yOv4_6thzi79eZbpULn7XMsI3Z8J6-fdsbVIxIPwWFrGk4jpqIBSRrJQXs/w425-h562/7%20September.jpg" width="425" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHV9D1NgIrHwjaJvxlzpRRFSzd3z_-M6i15uXJEuKZPgMCKhNP2dHfweRgBGRgMFvJDdr3npJUvBkmie7CU4CbM6FBjnx10YRVRL_wGbPTpwViLdZqKttlwQkT4EsW_yo8QG5_bQ08-ZAQS3BZiGnLnLk1RcvGjNBsU-_7FYdTwpcccfVcoN-dur2RwhU/s1280/11-12%20Sept.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="707" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHV9D1NgIrHwjaJvxlzpRRFSzd3z_-M6i15uXJEuKZPgMCKhNP2dHfweRgBGRgMFvJDdr3npJUvBkmie7CU4CbM6FBjnx10YRVRL_wGbPTpwViLdZqKttlwQkT4EsW_yo8QG5_bQ08-ZAQS3BZiGnLnLk1RcvGjNBsU-_7FYdTwpcccfVcoN-dur2RwhU/w354-h640/11-12%20Sept.jpeg" width="354" /></a></div><div><br /></div>And the next Friday the amdrams moved in.</div><div><br /></div><div>Most of the pieces played were familiar ones, but <i>Gitanilla, </i>by John Crawford Wilson, had only been produced at London's Surrey Theatre 8 October of the previous year. It was well enough received there, with Creswick in the role of melodramatic Pedro and the theatres 'astounding effects' and a nice toll of dead bodies. Afteer its couple of weeks at the Surrey it was picked up by J H Chute for Bristol and Bath, then by Newcastle and Liverpool on a double bill with the seasonal pantomime. In Dublin it was played as a forepiece to Lydia Thompson! And Newcombe picked it up. He got half a dozen showings out of it, and doubtless shelved the scenery for his next round of <i>The Colleen Bawn. </i>Leicester played to two dramas as a double bill! Bury played it as an addition to <i>Slavery</i> ... Mr Wilson might have been sub-sub-Boucicault, but <i>Gitanilla </i>did OK! The writer progressed to <i>Elsie, or Flights to Fairyland </i>et al</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzTtstGJoOd5MAEvq-kSa_gGPxg2clKOra0KgM2I6BqyTl5H_-aW9CladGocja4novfBQlahNBFLHtpMxOpaZ8Ec4naVeREkrEbbTTkHqpdc_VHr0u6XQOL_3-zkCaSJNfNT318sU4zPh7zlKdqtWD6CSlzTxEgReTZ1mXMiOxitRxxb7MePAgj8j7Ua8/s1277/GITANILLA%201861.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1277" data-original-width="973" height="568" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzTtstGJoOd5MAEvq-kSa_gGPxg2clKOra0KgM2I6BqyTl5H_-aW9CladGocja4novfBQlahNBFLHtpMxOpaZ8Ec4naVeREkrEbbTTkHqpdc_VHr0u6XQOL_3-zkCaSJNfNT318sU4zPh7zlKdqtWD6CSlzTxEgReTZ1mXMiOxitRxxb7MePAgj8j7Ua8/w433-h568/GITANILLA%201861.jpg" width="433" /></a></div><br /><div>Naturally, I have to know who this little company were. The two twenty-something juvenile ladies became 'known'. One, indeed, so 'known' that I've already biographied her ...</div><div><br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><b><span lang="EN-AU">RANOE, Kate </span></b><span lang="EN-AU">[RANOE, Katherine] (b Bridgnorth, Salop c 1837; d Montreal, Canada, 29 March 1893)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">The musician and showman, Jullien, featured some well-known artists – from Charlott Ann Birch or Anna Thillon to Madame Gassier to Charlotte Dolby – as vocalists with his grand orchestra. But he also gave extended opportunities to a number of young unknowns, such as Cicely Nott and most particularly, Kate Ranoe.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">Miss Ranoe was born in Bridgnorth, Shropshire. Her actor father, James Ranoe had come there to play with the local theatre company, and married local girl Maria Hall in 1834 (28 April). Maria swiftly began turning out a regular run of infants, and by the time James moved on from Shropshire, at the end of the 1830s, they had babies Michael, Kate and Isabella in tow.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">In the 1841 census, 4 year-old Kate is to be found in Henry Street, Lambeth, with her paternal grandmother. James is evidently working in the provinces, the rest of the family with him, as another sister, Cecilia Victoria was christened later that year in Stamford. Further children followed, with the inevitable rate of wastage, with another sister, Rosina, born in 1845. Michael went on to be a railway guard and inspector, Isabella a drawing mistress married to a stone mason, but Kate, Cecilia and Rosina all went into music and the theatre.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">Kate made her first appearance in public at the Adelphi Theatre in Sheffield in February of 1849, on the occasion of her father’s Benefit. She sang two solos and a duet, and played the role of Jenny Leatherlungs in the trifle <i>Jenny Lind at Last. </i>She was billed as ‘the Infant Jenny Lind’. ‘She both acts and sings with energy, precision and tact’, reported the local press, warning her parent against making her do too much, too young.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"> </span>Now, the story (doubtless true) about little Miss Ranoe goes that she was taken up/adopted or whatever by Monsieur Jullien, who paid for and supervised her musical education. Well, it just happens that in Sheffield that week Jullien was indeed playing (vocalist: Mme Thillon) and it is tempting to believe that he saw the little girl perform.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"> </span>In any case, Kate was at some stage taken into the Jullien household, enrolled at the RAM – variously as ‘pupil of Miss Dolby’ and ‘pupil of Crivelli’ -- and judged to have ‘a contralto voice which promises to be of the very finest quality’ in pieces such as ‘The Lord is mindful of his own’. I am not sure whether she is the ‘Miss Ranoe’ who appears briefly at the City of London Theatre in 1852. There were a lot of them.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">When Kate’s time at the Academy was over, she naturally made her re-debut under her ‘father’s’ management. Jullien launched a season on 15 July 1856 – ‘a grand inauguration festival for the opening of the Colossal Concert Hall’ – for which he hired a tiara of star artists including Dolby, Alboni, Novello, the Gassiers, Reeves, Rokitansky and … Miss Kate Ranoe. After the opening, things settled down to a less stellar level, and Kate put in regular appearances. I notice her giving ‘John Anderson, my Jo’ ‘sweetly’, and the Evening Prayer from <i>Eli,</i> during the seasons which were interspersed with Jullien’s wide and grand national tours. On which ‘Miss Ranoe’ went too.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">At Christmas 1858, she was cast as ‘Italian Opera’ in the Covent Garden pantomime <i>Little Red Riding Hood</i>, and apparently she went to Paris to further her studies under Duprez. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">At this stage, however, Jullien was – for the umpteenth time -- deep in financial trouble, and after a spell in debtor’s prison, he died in March 1860. A fantastical story appeared in the press, telling how, now insane, he had threatened ‘young lady of fifteen, his adopted daughter’ with a knife, ‘a pupil of Duprez who bids fair to become a great singer’. </span>Kate appeared in a Benefit for his widow at the Surrey Gardens (31 July) singing Reichardt’s ’Thou art so near and yet so far’.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">With her sponsor gone, Kate’s career changed. She took a job in the company at the Theatre Royal, Plymouth (‘the late lamented Jullien’s protegée’), and there we meet her. When she sang at yet another Benefit for Mme Jullien (‘Deh vieni’), the press assured ‘we have never seen her to greater advantage’, but, when she played the title-role in <i>Rosina,</i> they were less impressed’ remarking ‘her voice has lost all that brilliancy which we remember it possessed, some four or five years since, when she accompanied the late M Jullien’.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">From now on, Kate worked as an actress who sings. When the theatre did a play version of <i>Il Trovatore</i> she played Leonora, and interpolated bit of the opera, when they did <i>The Colleen Bawn</i> she was Eily, she sang songs between the acts, and was decidedly popular. It was averred ‘she still lives with Mme Jullien’, but in the 1861 census she is a 23 year-old actress and boarder in a local home.</span>When Madame Jullien attempted to continue where her late husband had left off, Kate too appeared, but more and more she was working as a burlesque actress and comedienne: at the Adelphi, the Olympic, the Strand, the Royalty, at the Queen’s Theatre in Dublin.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">Her situation had now singularly changed, for on 20 January 1862 at St James’s Westminster, Kate had become Mrs Frederick Edward Molyne[a]ux St John (b Newcastle 28 November 1838; d Ottawa 30 January 1904), a sometime officer in the marines and a scion of the aristocracy. Since Mrs St John continued as an actress, perhaps not a very well-off scion.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">In 1868, the St Johns left England for Canada, and Molyne[a]ux metamorphosed into variously a journalist, an author (<i>The Sea of Mountains</i>), a political secretary, a railways agent, an agent for the Land Corporation of Canada and a civil servant. Kate, after a brief sojourn at New York’s Wallack’s Theatre (25 September 1867), continued for some years to perform – notably as <i>La Grande-Duchesse de Gérolstein</i> in an early Canadian Offenbach production – in Montreal, Toronto and associated venues.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">The St Johns returned to England for some years, during his period as a railway agent (they are there for the 1881 census), but returned to Canada where they ended their days in Ottawa.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">Kate, apparently, was ‘accidentally killed’ in Montreal in 1893.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">The other theatrical Ranoes worked on: James as a useful provincial and suburban actor and stage manager, and finally as stage manager to the Italian Opera, Her Majesty’s Theatre; Maria, who had been a costume-maker at the Lyceum, at the head of her own costumery as ‘Madame Ranoe’ of 5 Church Street, Covent Garden, and Cecilia and Rosina both as burlesque actresses. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">Cecilia married in 1860 Francis Cowley Burnand, the well-know burlesque author and writer, who, after her early death, remarried Rosina, by this stage the widow of Edward Payson Jones (1874). The enumeration of their offspring would take more space than this article. Dame Rosina Burnand died in Ramsgate in 1924.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">Don't worry. I'm not going to detail the other member of the company at such length, but Kate was 'one I cooked before'.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">I'm not going to go into <b>Fanny ADDISON [ADDISON, Frances Pauline] </b>(b Birmingham 2 December 1843; d 7 January 1937). She has been written about so many times before. Daughter of an actor, she, like her sister Carlotta, went on the stage young. She married (1874) the American actor Henry Mader Pitt (1850-1898), worked latterly as Fanny Addison Pitt and lived to a ripe old age ...</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9KX68d3a9acJkybvS9M1m0ATMLcAXCUeGdTMazmE2S6NVAaHyxAR7jOdafzusrC1I3ct_Qf16e1NnYbYX75zdDodZQbT1hAPo1UXSUKjupVuUjPaIJTaFpYPFBK36d8UwL0PIQHU7NRUA2OpVFsphxrANXGaDmR6pvKUphc8Q8lov99Zee_mT2J-M6pM/s494/fanny%20addison.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="494" data-original-width="300" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9KX68d3a9acJkybvS9M1m0ATMLcAXCUeGdTMazmE2S6NVAaHyxAR7jOdafzusrC1I3ct_Qf16e1NnYbYX75zdDodZQbT1hAPo1UXSUKjupVuUjPaIJTaFpYPFBK36d8UwL0PIQHU7NRUA2OpVFsphxrANXGaDmR6pvKUphc8Q8lov99Zee_mT2J-M6pM/w388-h640/fanny%20addison.jpg" width="388" /></a></div><br /><span lang="EN-AU"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">In the 1861 census, she 'aged 17' and sister Carlotta 'aged 15' are boarding in Sidwell St, Exeter. Fanny is already an 'actress'. She has been seen at Doncaster, as a member of the company at Brighton, and at census time she was playing Eily in <i>The Colleen Bawn </i>and Ophelia<i> </i>at Exeter. Her teenage engagement with Newcombe was an early step to a career as a characterful star of the American theatre.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">A couple of wee reference book errors. Fanny was born in 1843, not 1847. And ... where did she end her life? No-one seems to be certain. Surely it made the press.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">Anyway she <i>was </i>17 going on 18 in this season.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"><b>James O'SULLIVAN [SULLIVAN, James Joseph] </b>(b Cork c1835; d Manchester 19 October 1872) 'son of Stephen Sullivan and Ellen née Bedwell' began his career as an actor in his native Ireland. Unfortunately, Ireland is/was littered with James Sullivans and James O'Sullivans (inclusding in his days a particularly vocal clergyman) so tracking down his earliest days is almost impossible. I see him being baptised 14 March 1835 at St Mary's, Cork. And I see him not again until 1860, when he is 'from the Theatre Royal, Sunderland' and joining the company at Durham. Playing Macbeth and the sculptor in <i>The Marble Heart</i>. On to North Shields as Claude Melnotte in <i>The Lady of Lyons, </i>and in March 1861 he came to Plymouth, where he was seen in Irish comedy, in the drama <i>The Pirate of Algiers </i>(Abon Hamet) opposite Miss Ranoe, <i>The Marble Heart </i>et al.<i> </i>When he put in an appearance at the Standard, Shoreditch as Ragged Pat in <i>Ireland as it was</i>, with Miss Mandelbert, and Raymond in <i>The Midnight Angel, </i>he was billed as 'the favourite representative of Irish character from the Theatre Royal, Dublin'. And then came <i>The Colleen Bawn. </i>He appeared as Myles-na-Coppaleen at the Manchester Queen's 'with so much spirit and felling' then moved straight back to Plymouth for our season.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">He was still there in November, with many of the August company, playing Faust in <i>Faust and Marguerite </i>with Emma Robberds<i>, </i>Iago in <i>Othello, Rory </i>in <i>Rory O'More, </i>in<i> </i>the inevitable <i>Colleen Bawn, </i>in March 1862 as Macduff ... In May-June he visited Newcastle as Barney O'Toole in <i>Peep o'Day, </i>then Sheffield, and gave his Myles ('200th time) with three songs and an Irish Jig at the Liverpool Adelphi ('capitally played') and <i>The White Horse of the Peppers</i>.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">Next up, he was at Dublin's Queen's Theatre playing nasty Will Murtough ('with a song') in <i>The Green Bushes, </i>at Limerick playing Young Joe alongside Harry Webb in <i>The Post Boy, </i>then returned to Plymouth now as a guest star as Rory O'More, Iago, Terence O'More (with several Irish songs) in a <i>St Patrick's Eve </i>piece and, of course, Myles-na-Coppaleen.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">Sullivan was throughly established as a top provincial actor and comedian of wide talents. In the following years, he toured major dates from Manchester to Liverpool, Leeds to Brighton, in his favourite roles -- Myles, Murtough, Shaun the Post in <i>Arrah-na-Pogue, </i>Rory o'More -- occasionally risking a part such as Charles Surface with limited success. Such 'Irish' classics as <i>Born to Good Luck </i>were more what his audiences expected. 'In this class of character Mr O'Sullivan is well able to hold his own against all-comers'.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">But he didn't. It was reported, in 1871, that he was unwell at his home in Tonbridge. But he was back, playing <i>Peep o'Day </i>and <i>Arrah-na-Pogue </i>at Manchester ... and there he died, aged 37, shortly after.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">Sullivan married (1864) Emma Alice Hawley (actress) daughter of one Frederick Hawley who described himself variously as Esq, solicitor and theatrical agent and Emma Cox née Euens. She (d 1914) remarried after his death, John R Cornock. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><b>Emma [Mary] ROBBERDS </b>(b Paddington c 1841; d Burnley 27 January 1924) took a tad of unearthing, but I and my memory for trivia got her in the end. And it was her real name! The memory bit that set me right was of the suburban Marylebone Theatre in the early 1850. Amongst the company for many years was a Mr Charles Robberds (1807-1869) and his wife Louisa née Chubb (d. London, Robberds, theatre? Go chase them. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSDefEjmxnUum3MevYvSlKdogsOVi_QVunQu-mlvbusBGF7IqkcQtHxowc348ZelZFtI12VFFIjTKRPImmJE7bYZNXSpP4PFwDpBCFIvTPVNfGlAdmc2EMo6cJCN0o_MYHv784_KrRUudqCmjW-rkdF8kv-W_wPYnfBBeE2901hikMYn45OdkUYZnehcI/s1114/2014HJ1355.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1114" data-original-width="735" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSDefEjmxnUum3MevYvSlKdogsOVi_QVunQu-mlvbusBGF7IqkcQtHxowc348ZelZFtI12VFFIjTKRPImmJE7bYZNXSpP4PFwDpBCFIvTPVNfGlAdmc2EMo6cJCN0o_MYHv784_KrRUudqCmjW-rkdF8kv-W_wPYnfBBeE2901hikMYn45OdkUYZnehcI/w422-h640/2014HJ1355.jpg" width="422" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">And there they were, married 1824, in the 1851 census, in Exeter St, Marylebone, mamma and papa and four children (there were more) of whom no2 was Emma, aged 10 ish. Strange that she don't appear in the red books of Somerset House. But Robberds is an easily misspellable name.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">Following Emma's career is equally fraught with pieges. When she is 'Emma Robberds' all is fine. But I suspect there is another 'Miss Robberds' immiscing in the affair. Not forgetting that mama used to bill herself as 'Miss'. I think I've weeded well, but ... well... 'Miss' is such a dumb prefix.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">I spot her first at sixteenish playing leading roles at Cardiff, Wolverhampton in 1857. Then Swansea, Cardiff with Chute (Desdemona, Juliet, Rosalind). Is that she in the Sunderland panto? And in 1861 she came to Plymouth. She would, like O'Sullivan, return regularly, but she fulfilled engagements at Portsmouth, Bury, in Wales and in 1862 made her London debut at the Surrey Theatre and the Standard Theatre (1863). I see her playing Ophelia at Bath ...</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">In 1864 (9 February) she married a fellow player, 'Charles Western' veritably James Whistance, and they played together from Sheffield to Glasgow and back to Plymouth, at the Surrey (Desdemona &c) before he died 20 May 1870, aged 31, at East Bridge Street, Truro.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">Emma had begun her career as a leading lady in the provinces and she continued, mostly as such, round the country until it was time to take on such roles as La Frochard in <i>The Two Orphans. </i>In the meantime she remarried one William Alfred Bennett (I'm not sure whether he was a 'dentist' or an 'artist'). Apparently she had 7 (minus one) children by him ..</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">A thoroughly appreciable career as a provincial and suburban leading lady.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">OK. That's the most featured folk of Newcombe's season. So whom do we have left? Minnie Davis, Frank Seymour, Frank Allen, Mrs E F Saville, Charles Parke, R Thorne, Philip Day (not THE PD?), A Wallace .. haha! F H Neebe! I've encountered him before ... well here goes!</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><b>Frank Seymour</b>? In C61 he is 28, born Commercial Rd, East End ... but shouldn't he be in Plymouth? Anyway it reeks of pseudonym. So on we go. 1856 he is at Newcastle, 1857 at Cheltenham ('low comedian'). Mrs Frank Seymour does the Highland Fling at Birmingham. 1858 he (I presume it is he) is in the company at the Strand Theatre briefly then .. oh! here he is in Dublin, at Queen's Theatre, with James O'Sullivan who is playing the title role in <i>Ben Bolt </i>and Rolando in <i>The Honeymoon. </i>The two played together in <i>Turning the Tables. </i>The two are still there in 1859, in 1860 Frank is at Newcastle and Liverpool and then Plymouth where .. oh, dear, this is our season! A sneery review saying the men are too young and Wallace and Seymour are the only efficient ones! Emma and Fanny are nodded to, and Minnie Davis is granted 'a nice singing voice' and we learn that, in between our playbills, <i>Marco Spada</i> and <i>Ingomar </i>were given.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">January 1862 he is still at Plymouth ('first rate in burlesque characters') with Lewis Nanton, R Thorne and Miss Robberds. When <i>Hamlet</i> was given, he was the Gravedigger. Sullivan was the Ghost and Emma was Ophelia. At panto time, Frank was Abanazar. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">Off then to Scotland ('the celebrated low comedian'), to Birmingham, Wolverhampton for panto and, good heavens, is that he playing opposite the great Mrs Howard Paul in her act (while Mr Paul was doubtless away 'scouting (female) talent'!. I can see that Frank had a fine career as a comic actor .. I see him playing Sairey Gamp in Dublin in 1866 .. and advertising in tandem with Miss Juliet Power ... 'The smallness of his stature adds largely to the quaintness of his style' ... 1870 panto as Bluebeard at Exeter ... 1871 at the London Royalty .. and there he is in 'Mr Neebe's company' at Weymouth! I sha'n't enumerate his every engagement for there were many and many, but he played at the Elephant and Castle in 1875, at Greenwich (as co-manager) in 1876 ... well, there doesn't seem to be another Frank Seymour around, so I suppose it is he who becomes stage-manger (ie director in modernspeak), pantomime and drama author attached to the Exter Theatre, and to Eliot Galer's Leicester house ('first comedy and special parts') ... and the Frank who appeared in <i>A Night of Terror </i>at the Avenue (1885) and what? Is that he playing the elderly character role of the General in Van Biene and Lingard's adaptation of <i>La Princesse des Canaries </i>as <i>Pepita </i>(1887). A major touring hit which came into Toole's Theatre and employed him for a long period ... while some fellow advertised himself as 'Frank Seymour, character vocalist and top boot dancer'. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">He carried on into the equally successful Lingard <i>Falka</i> in the plum comic role of Brother Pelican ... until ... October 1891 'the well-known comedian died last Sunday and was buried at Woking cemetery by the Actor's Benevolent Fund'. Said to be 59. Since that goes with C61, I guess he was ...</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">Another fine performer winkled out by Mr Newcombe for his season was <b>Minnie DAVIS [DAVIS, Marion Annie] </b>(b Edinburgh 1834; d 188 Belsize Rd, Hampstead 19 December 1915). Daughter of an Edinburgh music teacher, William Davis, and his wife Jane née Hodgkiss, Minnie took her first stage steps in her native town, in seems, 1854, playing Marion in <i>Cramond Brig</i> at the Theatre Royal under Mrs Wyndham. With the occasional break, she remained at the theatre until mid-1859, in roles such as Kitty Clive in <i>Masks and Faces, The Ragpicker of Paris, </i>Mrs Pillicoddy in <i>Poor Pillicoddy, </i>Patty in <i>Fraud and its victims, </i>Dot in <i>Cricket on the Hearth, </i>Lemuel in <i>Flowers of the Forest, </i>Nelly in <i>The Green Bushes, </i>Nancy in <i>Oliver Twist, </i>and her flagship double role of Miss Thistledown and Margery Macfarlane in <i>The Bonnie Fishwife. </i>She also appeared in the pantomimes and in burlesques alongside, notably, Toole and Louise Keeley (Medora in <i>The Corsair</i>, Raleigh in<i> Kenilworth</i>) and in the plethora of comediettas which made up the ever-changing progammes.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">She was then engaged by Harry Webb, for the Queen's, Dublin, as first soubrette and there, from 14 September to 6 March 1860, she filled the same variety of roles as at Edinburgh (Betsy in <i>Betsy Baker</i>, Dorothy in <i>No Song, No Supper</i>, Claude Melnotte in a <i>Lady of Lyons </i>burlesque, Rosa in <i>Three Fingered Jack, </i>Betsy in <i>Dick Turpin, </i>Luciana in <i>Two Gentlemen of Verona, </i>plus, of course <i>The Bonnie Fishwife</i>).<i> </i>She was re-engaged to September 1860, and went ... to the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, where 15 October she made her London 'debut' in <i>Married for Money.</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">And then came her engagement at Plymouth.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">She went back for further engagements is Scotland Sinbad, Aladdin, Audrey in <i>As You Like It, </i>Cregan in a <i>Colleen Bawn </i>burlesque, concerts alongside such patenet opera stars as Pauline Vaneri, <i>Paul Pry, </i>Effie Deans in <i>The Trial of Effie Deans ... </i>travelled to Birmingham and Brighton and at Christmas time returned to London and Sadler's Wells Theatre to play principal boy for Miss Marriott. Over the next years she played much with Miss Marriott and at the Wells, frequently as burlesque and pantomime boys, and also appeared at the suburban Standard Theatre, where the pants parts included that of Macheath in <i>The Beggar's Opera.</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">And somewhere in there she encountered a young actor (eight years younger than she) by name Edwin Brooke. They were wed in Shoreditch in 1864, and worked together much of the years to come. In those years, Minnie gave birth to six children.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">The couple worked steadily in major venues -- Liverpool featuring largely -- with seasons at Sadler's Wells, they toured with Henry Leslie's Old English Comedy Company (Lady Sneerwell, <i>Money </i>&c), with Mrs Bateman 'four seasons', at the Lyceum, the Olympic (Lady McSycophant in <i>The Man of the World</i>), she repested her Fishwife and her Audrey in <i>As You Like It</i>, until in the early 1880s, with three surviving children (Edwina, Gustave, Albert) growing up and her husband not in the best of health, Minnie turned to teaching and 'assisting' amateurs.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">Edwin died 30 November 1884 at Bullen Road, Lavender Hill. He was 42. His will says he was really Edwin James Macdonald Brook (with no 'e'). And it left his fortune to Minnie. £584. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">To her dying day, aged 61, Minnie described herself as 'actress'. But there was more sorrow to come in those later years. After having lost three of her children as babies, her elder surviving son Gustave (b 19 January 1874) went to sea as a qualified mate and was lost off the Portland coast, aged 25. Edwina Fanny Lily and Albert Harcourt outlived their mother, and Albert married and had children ..</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">PS Minnie's younger brother, Charles, who worked alongside her in early days at Edinburgh, drowned aged 23, whe he suffered a fit and fell into the loch. The water was not Minnie's friend.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">There is another name on Newcombe's bill which caught my eye. One of the chorus dancers. 'Louise Elliston'. Well, later in her career this young lady worked with Emily Soldene, so I had already investigated her. <b>Louise ELLISTON [MENDES, Sarah] </b>(b Shoreditch c 1835; d Bridge St, South Lynn, 17 August 1899) is said to have trained with Flexmore, travelled with the Ravel(le) troupe at some stage, but comes to my notice first in 1860, dancing Columbine in the Southampton panto. Well, actually, she came to my notice already giving birth to a fatherless child, Thomas Frederick Mendes 7 November 1857. Anyway, she spent two years at Plymouth, it appears, and while there married local actor William Henry Stone, by whom she would have five or six more children while continuing to Columbine (Edinburgh, Standard Theatre, Prince's Manchester, Day's Birmingham) and play the halls as a solo dancer. Mr Stone swapped acting for other trades, but Mrs Stone became entrepreneurial and travelled a troupe, 'the Elliston Family' (a naughty reference to the famous acting family of earlier years), of which daughter [Louise] Maude (b 31 March 1867) was the prominent element. The troupe continued into the 1890s, but Sarah-Louise, who had moved to character roles latterly, while promoting her daughters, suffered an accident with a stage trap in South Wales which ended her performing career. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">So if Louise Elliston was only a chorine at Plymouth, who was Mdlle Aline who was principal danseuse? I didn't think I'd find out .. but it seems I sort of have. <b>Aline? ARCHER (</b>b ?; d Edinburgh 30 January 1866) was a solo and principal dancer between 1857 and her marriage, child birth and resultant death. She was said to be (and why not?) the daughter of Thomas Archer, actor, the wife of Joseph C ('Carl'?) Rowella, actor, and to have been but 23 years old at her death. Which would make her 14 as principal dancer at Cork and Liverpool. To be proven. Thereafter she was featured dancer at Newcastle, Edinburgh, Dublin, Plymouth et al before installing herself as ballet mistress at Edinburgh with the occasional attempt at acting (Mercury in <i>Ixion, </i>Princess in panto) and visits to Sheffield and Liverpool. ... Alas, Aline ...</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlSF4427ShkMaEb3LuXTwCj4rQzKYXKBreQXcaN3gJV50uv5h7Zo-jpwMKGHQ4JLwwQV1AKW2zCdu6zjy8PcTUm_XTroUVV0RS2YAGQ-QcT6gPJIrCJ6RVryaG6xPVAQz__MXKbVosMjeoQl_QtQipUy3ArFHSWPcR2Ik9-Cj79xlbnrPxzDx0KRJrl38/s405/aline.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="347" data-original-width="405" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlSF4427ShkMaEb3LuXTwCj4rQzKYXKBreQXcaN3gJV50uv5h7Zo-jpwMKGHQ4JLwwQV1AKW2zCdu6zjy8PcTUm_XTroUVV0RS2YAGQ-QcT6gPJIrCJ6RVryaG6xPVAQz__MXKbVosMjeoQl_QtQipUy3ArFHSWPcR2Ik9-Cj79xlbnrPxzDx0KRJrl38/w385-h330/aline.jpg" width="385" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">Amongst the other ladies we see <b>Mrs E F Saville</b> in an older role. Mrs Saville was the former <b>Clementina Sobieska GRANT</b>. Her husband Edmund Henry Faucit Saville was by this time deceased. They had been of the Surrey Theatre, the Victoria Theatre and many others, together, up to his death 20 November 1857. She doddled on most successfully alone, and died in August 1879.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><b>Miss M WALSTEIN</b> confuses me. Is it a real name? If so, a strange choice. A Lavinia Walstein, actress, goodtime girl et al, had died in 1833. And revealed at her post mortem to have been ... a man. This one? </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">Well, there had been a few real or pretend Miss Ws since the turn of the century .. and I suppose she could have been the Miss W at Sadler's Wells in 1861 or the one in Brighton in 1867. Less Likely to be the one floating around in 1881`But, for the moment, I can't be bothered with her.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><b>Frank ALLEN </b>(b Covent Garden c 1828)<b> </b>I spot at Truro in 1858, as Trulove in <i>The Love Chase, </i>Sir Arthur in <i>All that Glitters, Hawkesley in </i>Still Waters Run Deep, and then at Exeter before coming to Plymouth, where he was cast as Danny Man alongside O'Sullivan and Miss Ranoe. He stayed in the south playing mostly villainous roles, and took over the Truro Theatre for one season before continuing to Sheffield (1865), the City of London Theatre (1866) and returning to Plymouth (1867) ...</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">In the 1861 Plymouth census he has a Scots actress wife, Catherine, aged 19 ... hmmm .... </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">I have encountered <b>Lewis NANTON</b> [BROWNSMITH, Nanton Lewis ] (b Finsbury 15 December 1839) and his wife 'Peggy Burette' (Pauline Constance Noemie Barrett) before, because their daughter Kathleen married the memorable comic opera comedian, Walter Passmore. Nanton had but a short career as he died aged 31 (Leeds, 2 April 1871). So he was barely of age, and fresh from clerking at a silk mercery and playing in amateur dramatics in London, during his engagement at Plymouth. In January 1862, he is playing alongside Emma Robberds, Frank Seymour and the Messrs Thorne (in blackface) and Marshall in <i>The Governor's Wife. </i>He spent seasons in Brighton and Portsmouth (Bob Brierley in <i>Ticket of Leave Man, </i>Duke Aranza in<i> The Honeymoon</i>), Birmingham et al, and stepped in for Irving in <i>Formosa </i>at Drury Lane (1869) before taking the role of Micawber (with Pauline as his wife) in the <i>David Copperfield</i> show <i>Lost Emily. </i>He died of 'a burst blood vessel during a fit of coughing'. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><b>CHARLES PARKE </b>has eluded me so far. He was around in 1855 at Ramsgate playing with the Savilles (Cassio to the Othello of Mr, Claude Melnotte oppostie Mrs, dramatic roles in <i>The Wreck Ashore, The Green Bushes</i> &c) and advertising himsel as 'walking gentleman' of the Marylebone Theatre, Glasgow and Brighton'. Following his stint at Plymouth he got himself a job at Drury Lane, no less, playing the King in <i>Hamlet </i>with Charles Kean. The King not the Ghost. I don't know he got such geographical promotion, and it was a one off, but it permitted him for years to advertise himself as 'of Drury Lane, melodramatic leads and heavies'. I see him at the Liverpool Colosseum, the Leeds Princess's, at the Queen's Manchester as a selection o baddies, at Bolton playing Danny Man, and at Wigan where he took tim out to put on a frock as Clorinda in <i>Cinderella </i>(1865). He played <i>Sweeney Todd </i>at Newport, Shrewsbury, Wigan again, Paisley and Campbelltown, at Dundee as the villain of a new drama <i>The Bells of Shandon, </i>at Halifax for Chute, at Preston and at Dewsbury (Black Frank in <i>Jeannie Deans</i>) but after after 1872, I see him not until 1876 'after his severe accident', again in Scotland. And that's it. He disappears, and I still don't know who he is. Who he was. I'll keep looking, but wouldn't mind a bit of help! </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">Climbing down the bill, we find <b>Charles LLOYDS. </b>We know him, and his elder brother Frederick. Sons of Peter Godfrey Lloyds (d 1865) an accountant in Toxteth Park. I see the family's name was originally LEUTZ. Anyway <b>Frederick LLOYDS</b> (b Liverpool 1819; d Kentish Town 21 December 1894) became a successful scenic artist and Charles (b Liverpool 1821); a perhaps less successful actor. He married an Eliza May EDLIN and died in the seventies it seems ..</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><b>Mrs R BARNETT (née WESTON, Eliza [Edwin]) </b>(b Dublin c 1812; d unknown) was at the end of her career in 1861. And it had been a fairly substantial career, almost all of it as Mrs R[ichard] Barnett. the couple had been married at Newchurch, Isle of Wight, in 1834 when they were playing the Ryde Theatre: she as a singer and he musical director. They played togther at Salisbury, Reading and Oxford, and Eliza got a little job at the Adelphi before finding a bolt hole at Sadler's Wells for several seasons ('a very clever little actress'). She moved on to the Garrick, The Victoria, more Adelphi and in 1848 to the City of London Theatre (alongside the Savilles) for nearly a decade (Fool in <i>King Lear</i>) ... I don't know what became of Richard, but by the time of what seems to have been her virtual retirement, their daughter, Emma [Caroline Hickman] Barnett (b 10 January 1840; d Shepherd's Bush, August 1877) , had taken to the stage. She, too, would have a career largely in the suburbs (Marylebone, Princess's, Court, Victoria, Adelphi) as a dramatic actress until her death, aged 37. She was living with Marylebone manager J H Cave, and was found at the bottom of the stairs, bloody and cracked skull. The newspapers had a heyday, the coroner accepted that she had fallen.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">I cannot find the 'fullstop' to the careers and lives of Richard and Eliza. In the 1861 census Eliza is in Plymouth, a widow and now a nurse ... and then ...</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><b>Frederick Edwin Harrison NEEBE </b>(b Darlington 1843; d Basford 1897) son of a German Lutheram Minister was another neophyte. A clerk in a wine merchant's establishment, he was here beginning a career in the theatre which started as a low comedian (Plymouth, Leicester, Southampton, Blackpool, Liverpool, Halifax &c) and led him to managerial posts ...</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirtuK2BvPc3RcYbkV7qsaqWRKZ7jVxRuaAcTDlnsUyyAYCqBS9DLAj5EMhuqJeCyR0kyowBc-butFhhuFbreh-H677x3pwv1YCJPGSQt8FkpVlk8Tk5our-9Viamm_46SQbOCySTeRATXpC9vDwMWD972CNGwu6wzQdD26Un5rD-4c3DOjYa38Cq96FZ8/s1475/neebe.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1475" data-original-width="772" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirtuK2BvPc3RcYbkV7qsaqWRKZ7jVxRuaAcTDlnsUyyAYCqBS9DLAj5EMhuqJeCyR0kyowBc-butFhhuFbreh-H677x3pwv1YCJPGSQt8FkpVlk8Tk5our-9Viamm_46SQbOCySTeRATXpC9vDwMWD972CNGwu6wzQdD26Un5rD-4c3DOjYa38Cq96FZ8/w334-h640/neebe.jpg" width="334" /></a></div><div><br /></div><b>Walter Watkins ('Watty') BRUNTON </b>(b London 23 May 1828; d London 18 January 1904) and his wife née <b>Annette Ellen VINCENT</b> (b London 30 June 1836; d Bethnal Green 1 February 1893) had long careers, twelve children several of whom went into the theatre. I'm sure there is a biographical note on Watty somewhere ... anywhere up till the 20th century when he was still active in comedy, drama and pantomime in the suburban theatres.</div><div><br /></div><div>I have to avow myself beaten by 'Mr G Watson' and the sisters (if they were) Burton, Mr Marshall, Mr Grimani and is the B Lester. Who else is there? <b>Mr P DAY. </b>Hmm Phil Day was a musical comedian of worth later in the century. But here is a Mr P Day in 1869 at Holborn. And at the Gaiety in 1870 ... yes, it's he! The same chap. <b>Samuel Phillips DAY </b>(b Cork 1844; d Alfred Hospital, Melbourne, Australia 3 December 1887). So he was a teenager at Plymouth. Mr Newcombe knew how to pick them! This must have been Phil's first job. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB5LolgZmZO33UA9wp1EeC4Q9LW8OtZrytoHnstIOzevj8bUEAegNjE-X39YgbcCPDPExhnrlNFImvIudZqF66Z5ZgIzSaxycFQPoIc_2JVVhNx4jl91o1yjl3fqQJhCV-0XuPxZEWDy1vdR10UnkE4YlwBsTNFi-zi9BZzDTDWutq5vSU8HilXuzzKm4/s1600/P%20Day%2069.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1028" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB5LolgZmZO33UA9wp1EeC4Q9LW8OtZrytoHnstIOzevj8bUEAegNjE-X39YgbcCPDPExhnrlNFImvIudZqF66Z5ZgIzSaxycFQPoIc_2JVVhNx4jl91o1yjl3fqQJhCV-0XuPxZEWDy1vdR10UnkE4YlwBsTNFi-zi9BZzDTDWutq5vSU8HilXuzzKm4/s320/P%20Day%2069.jpg" width="206" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9TZIl7gUd06xASJBuYinRugir0lTh1VLJmo6-gjm6Xym5UH_g57M2YEMcereEyy7aXQ04SAbqhobwmxLUKUDzJEwetlw7c4bHBZRI64H_gmVAOvvAcuBnG_B2BLUW8hZAGXGKxzjUyVyLE4_q_eA-oDFPmaDMBK1QfvBXCJ-MTx_pI7ibTaPuczA9OIc/s1600/P%20Day%20Holborn.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="992" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9TZIl7gUd06xASJBuYinRugir0lTh1VLJmo6-gjm6Xym5UH_g57M2YEMcereEyy7aXQ04SAbqhobwmxLUKUDzJEwetlw7c4bHBZRI64H_gmVAOvvAcuBnG_B2BLUW8hZAGXGKxzjUyVyLE4_q_eA-oDFPmaDMBK1QfvBXCJ-MTx_pI7ibTaPuczA9OIc/s320/P%20Day%20Holborn.jpg" width="198" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Phil, son of a London 'author and lecturer', had a grand and versatile career: juvenile man at the Princess's Edinburgh and the Prince's, Manchester; King Coal in the Livrpool panto, a long stint (1867-9) at the Royalty Theatre playing juves, character roles (Ikey the Jew) and the comedy leads in the afterpieces, then at Charing Cross with Miss Fowler and as the villain at the Holborn (Roderigo in <i>Othello </i>&c). In 1872 he joined the company at Hull, and he married Emily MOOREHEAD daughter of a defunct Doctor in the Bengal Army (23 November 1872).<br /><div>In the 1870s he played at the Adelphi, the Folly, the Aquarium, at Exeter under the manegement of Fred Neebe, in the 1880s he emigrated to Australia .. and there he died of a heart complaint.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYpqJKLHI1kbqMKrr_8ZudkZXOVLc49OrESIfD0kmn4MU8lHM5prM6CDjBFRcCrOf9tZWEJ6mkfQpYgPrliDWhFVwUkMRokVlmzp1Mxyao6tOE0Tyaa6-qLkAGbJB1n12HIsIHfSH4MocnJO1by191PRkXXFdsbR4otOIiYbeyAAFtcoUtq8l1YWdwDYA/s333/192403958_b701d40a-5642-4755-84c5-8691984efbee.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="333" data-original-width="250" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYpqJKLHI1kbqMKrr_8ZudkZXOVLc49OrESIfD0kmn4MU8lHM5prM6CDjBFRcCrOf9tZWEJ6mkfQpYgPrliDWhFVwUkMRokVlmzp1Mxyao6tOE0Tyaa6-qLkAGbJB1n12HIsIHfSH4MocnJO1by191PRkXXFdsbR4otOIiYbeyAAFtcoUtq8l1YWdwDYA/w300-h400/192403958_b701d40a-5642-4755-84c5-8691984efbee.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>The Australian press gave him a sizeable obituary ..</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4QdfbJUgGbI1gkuenPN-5AtZEObSmqVInwXqZZ92cV68aVDoPQANoV1X0IqXRIqYtGk5UyaH8L_waAZor6dZ_sQ642NjxiEeiHrx2wQDEN25PozmJuVunEynVrHE1XCZvuDIyNU5y6LTHM3Lwhald2MaVXBkpb1q_z-wygeOTQoT55ypkuC9Pse5RDcQ/s900/nla.news-page22793821-nla.news-article212655256-L3-74a30284560afd88c3285dbbf69d3f02-0001.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="504" height="705" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4QdfbJUgGbI1gkuenPN-5AtZEObSmqVInwXqZZ92cV68aVDoPQANoV1X0IqXRIqYtGk5UyaH8L_waAZor6dZ_sQ642NjxiEeiHrx2wQDEN25PozmJuVunEynVrHE1XCZvuDIyNU5y6LTHM3Lwhald2MaVXBkpb1q_z-wygeOTQoT55ypkuC9Pse5RDcQ/w395-h705/nla.news-page22793821-nla.news-article212655256-L3-74a30284560afd88c3285dbbf69d3f02-0001.jpg" width="395" /></a></div><br /><div>I think they got his date of birth wrong!</div><div><br /></div><div>Well, that's been fun, bringing a bunch of old playbills to life. Time for a cuppa, and then go see how my gold plated garage cum sleepout is progressing. We were promised windows today ...</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEi1UTYsMELSdggm6qhV0r2Z0k6jgertlV2NuR0CdsltDCS2_HEshszCCB5RN-pHdycRqh-I_91xdjtj1XlwBi-nVC9YvuJlxVEqV0MA8ahy9bqgyBVpKeDTCnNU0K5Lj6Gx9sDawndp_kPszI1UbrSSCP5U1nW7hEh6ngHaaEptnCO2TKU5ovqvmPems/s2048/IMG_6632.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEi1UTYsMELSdggm6qhV0r2Z0k6jgertlV2NuR0CdsltDCS2_HEshszCCB5RN-pHdycRqh-I_91xdjtj1XlwBi-nVC9YvuJlxVEqV0MA8ahy9bqgyBVpKeDTCnNU0K5Lj6Gx9sDawndp_kPszI1UbrSSCP5U1nW7hEh6ngHaaEptnCO2TKU5ovqvmPems/w400-h300/IMG_6632.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div>And oh, here's another bunch of antique playbills just arrrived on my desk. Shall I, or sha'n't I?</div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe tomorrow.</div><div><br /></div><div>PS, does Plymouth have a museum other than a maritime one?<br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p></div>GEROLSTEINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08446253124724430879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8935297705846111801.post-23438142402401090112024-02-17T17:23:00.000-08:002024-02-17T17:23:37.246-08:00Edwin and his Emilies ... or, Mr Wilson and his wives <p> </p><p>Yes, it's that time again. My desktop is bulging with oldtime folk, gathered from around the internet ... so it's time for a clean out ...</p><p>Let's begin in Australia, for thats where the grave of the actor/singer/comedian known as <b>Edwin BRETT </b>can be found. At Bateman's Bay, New South Wales.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXDNRFGpowB1R-bi47k0Fq6cLnmfavF3qCuBACeHNbTrYfURsP93dENHHw5Rhl2VHBgv0DfxY6ldJ8UsR3qcU-fhEemXSPZTcDe4xPwAkRIKXIVUdjSIWwFxS_xJu6r2koeeS4SR1hrCVuy-AKnSyUhXKwmGcv_KH8xyMGs7upUAdjn0XlcTD0W6LyWqs/s250/174616053_1483068744.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="232" data-original-width="250" height="371" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXDNRFGpowB1R-bi47k0Fq6cLnmfavF3qCuBACeHNbTrYfURsP93dENHHw5Rhl2VHBgv0DfxY6ldJ8UsR3qcU-fhEemXSPZTcDe4xPwAkRIKXIVUdjSIWwFxS_xJu6r2koeeS4SR1hrCVuy-AKnSyUhXKwmGcv_KH8xyMGs7upUAdjn0XlcTD0W6LyWqs/w400-h371/174616053_1483068744.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>Theatre historians of NSW, he could do with a little wash and brush up!</p><p>The story doesn't begin in Australia, of course. Eddie was an Englishman. Born <b>Edward Bernard WILSON </b>in Shoreditch 3 December 1866, the son of tailor Peter Wilson and his wife Charlotte née Brett. After early life in an office, he took to the stage and I see him in 1888 playing a policeman, a Major-General and a butler in Mark Melford's <i>Kleptomania </i>and <i>Turned Up </i>company. When the troupe played the dramatic <i>The Squire's Wife </i>he took the<i> </i>role of the old Squire (with a death scene). <i>Kleptomania </i>came to London's Novelty Theatre and provided the young character actor with his metropolitan debut. He next went on tour as a Frenchman in <i>Human Nature, </i>played the villain in <i>Robinson Crusoe </i>at Eastbourne and in 1891, in Henry Dundas's <i>Jack in the Box ... </i>In the company was a young lady dubbed 'Emily Constance' [Emily CUSTANCE], and they were married September 19. They spent Christmas in panto as villain and Princess in <i>Dick Whittington </i>at the Brighton Aquarium ...</p><p>More of the same followed. I see him as Hatchett in van Biene's tour of <i>Blue-Eyed Susan, </i>in <i>The Trumpet Call, The Plunger </i>as a comic tramp, in Milton Bode's panto (Abanazar, with wife, now 'Custance'), supporting van Biene as Dickson in <i>The Broken Melody</i> ... and on 4 March 1894, Emily gave birth to Marjorie Wilson Brett.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMWOlpVkl5kmKOhqYy-bxKDJm9MsIjYSoWG345c4yLJyZerNKnWu3N6OV7DAtDy86xCHp8zo4NUefvMRhyphenhyphen9diS6uMy2V3ofcC_Z-iOQTyoATeYnc14Td44yn9S5bdhQFfoPdOadz7jtjHglcRlGHxlzPqinzR0mW2swoIQ0MaTx2dqo5kC99rlErsH4yo/s300/9917056343607636.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="189" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMWOlpVkl5kmKOhqYy-bxKDJm9MsIjYSoWG345c4yLJyZerNKnWu3N6OV7DAtDy86xCHp8zo4NUefvMRhyphenhyphen9diS6uMy2V3ofcC_Z-iOQTyoATeYnc14Td44yn9S5bdhQFfoPdOadz7jtjHglcRlGHxlzPqinzR0mW2swoIQ0MaTx2dqo5kC99rlErsH4yo/w403-h640/9917056343607636.jpeg" width="403" /></a></div><br /><p>In 1894 he played the star role of Captain Coddington in the tour of <i>In Town, </i>and in 1896 he was Pilkington Jones in Bode's <i>Gentleman Joe. </i>The role of the 'heroine' was taken by Miss <b>Emmeline ORFORD. </b>I presume they began their cohabitation during the tour. While the tour ran on and on, the real 'Mrs Brett' posted their five year-old wedding announcement in the trade press. She had no chance. The unofficial marriage would last for half a century. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2-d2bkZ3Uf5MlxBU3SdyPIUVl_MnC9jgnz6y5dat5kefacMOc4mcPtqIvV9FXU9zf5jC48NozvksQPceFQ685ltUb0-d_Ias4IyAfTHAtcOYqx6uzSqss0W8dHsKCSE1_JSe7waJ43SZzFruXalwGVwmD2fU4oL5yhDTGtjMMt7p3SBgMzYz7rSNSRCo/s512/YLV1044610_Emmeline-Orford-as-Mina.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="327" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2-d2bkZ3Uf5MlxBU3SdyPIUVl_MnC9jgnz6y5dat5kefacMOc4mcPtqIvV9FXU9zf5jC48NozvksQPceFQ685ltUb0-d_Ias4IyAfTHAtcOYqx6uzSqss0W8dHsKCSE1_JSe7waJ43SZzFruXalwGVwmD2fU4oL5yhDTGtjMMt7p3SBgMzYz7rSNSRCo/w408-h640/YLV1044610_Emmeline-Orford-as-Mina.jpg" width="408" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miss Hook of Holland</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Alderman Fitzwarren ('Staring me in the face', 'A funny kind of feeling') at Stratford East, and back to <i>Gentleman Joe </i>with Emmeline, until they went into Bode's next production <i>Orlando Dando</i> as Jonathan Q Jefferson an American millionaire ('I guess he guessed wrong'). And in 1899, when they went on the halls with an act <i>A Ten to One Chance, </i>they were announed as a pair. Emily, defiantly billed as Mrs Edwin Brett, was playing <i>In Old Kentucky,</i> and at Christmas Edwin was giving his Abanazar at Glasgow. The next year it was Dublin, while they swapped their music hall scena for another, <i>On the Quiet</i>.... </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT4ScB985UvrTFI3vFz_wdHuG4sY2rX2H83YVVSWjKqnFf-bLLQBmTLBKrXW3D9sma1HYXZnc7XMnUfZiAYEv8tjhz-mW5cHe40VJ6fXgVxjrZ21bGvOIp0bL3Bg6jXtuNxYjHk9pcpuyP_j9eyXZ5iRjWc0ktM0H7wVqptpJ0XwiQOh-qSr6eH3IVe_I/s7000/FL20881250.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="7000" data-original-width="4529" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT4ScB985UvrTFI3vFz_wdHuG4sY2rX2H83YVVSWjKqnFf-bLLQBmTLBKrXW3D9sma1HYXZnc7XMnUfZiAYEv8tjhz-mW5cHe40VJ6fXgVxjrZ21bGvOIp0bL3Bg6jXtuNxYjHk9pcpuyP_j9eyXZ5iRjWc0ktM0H7wVqptpJ0XwiQOh-qSr6eH3IVe_I/w414-h640/FL20881250.jpg" width="414" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>In 1908, the couple took a two-years trip to Australia for J C Williamson (Hook in <i>Miss Hook of Holland, Sergeant Brue, The Belle of Mayfair, </i>pantomimes). They would made five Australian trips in all. . On returning to Britain they went on the road in George's Dance's <i>A Waltz Dream </i>(Count Lothar, Fifi), played more halls, toured variety, he played in <i>High Jinks</i> and <i>The Boy </i>and they toured together in a piece called <i>Petticoat Fair </i>with Walter Passmore (1919). </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEcrrmeHTNbUvLxZqEJ3rbSW8k8yiQZOzA-NT9q9qFEocLRbLdy5gqh4voGfHQBKe13r3AysOvB3jwwTJgEuydUoxXcAXnoPPHk7vus62g0rX3lzhcdK7hCq_i_uRMwSfpVYIQyQLUoUq3GigqwKVlnZtWPXPJSHuBcoXYhrLFoydnNK9iE_-UNJJYmOA/s1600/s-l1600-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1600" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEcrrmeHTNbUvLxZqEJ3rbSW8k8yiQZOzA-NT9q9qFEocLRbLdy5gqh4voGfHQBKe13r3AysOvB3jwwTJgEuydUoxXcAXnoPPHk7vus62g0rX3lzhcdK7hCq_i_uRMwSfpVYIQyQLUoUq3GigqwKVlnZtWPXPJSHuBcoXYhrLFoydnNK9iE_-UNJJYmOA/w400-h268/s-l1600-8.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p>In between Australian visits, I spy him in 1925 touring in <i>Patricia, </i>in 1927 in Oscar Asche's <i>The Swordsman </i>(Planchet) ... In Australia they appeared in musical comedy (<i>The Maid of the Mountains</i>) and pantomime and as late as 1931, he played in <i>Sons o'Guns.</i></p><p>In the 1930s, Edwin appeared in several motion pictures (<i>His Royal Highness, Harmony Row, Diggers in Blighty</i>)</p><p>In 1948, the couple made a final visit, from their home in South Benfleet, to the shores of Australia. They were, they said, at last, going to settle there. Edwin died 20 July 1950. Emmeline -who had finally been billed as 'Mrs Brett' correctly after Emily's death 12 November 1937 -- survived him, and died in Cairns 1 June 1955.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>GEROLSTEINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08446253124724430879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8935297705846111801.post-79448214341772092792024-02-15T20:33:00.000-08:002024-02-17T12:39:17.345-08:00The Cuban Sylph or, a birthday brainteaser<p> </p><p>I thought I'd have a quiet day today after the efforts required in hurdling the 78th fence on life's racecourse yesterday.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQGq3J3CLjtjjJA_XT0hR2nq2Ig6CyIbpAR8BVUkW00SkhVdcJiDh16N5BS6XHFnZfm9dVFbS1UQWeRZn57x-fvEIBIDfQyBdRb06o-gEZugrBD4kSpE12AqMnjDbPM6v-LViDoXRUnlvZxWOEFxQDB8mANhyphenhyphenoqMJyFDVDollOk_T0cbjGhUjvcypLSFU/s828/426828364_923128859342362_3314580377708353825_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="621" data-original-width="828" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQGq3J3CLjtjjJA_XT0hR2nq2Ig6CyIbpAR8BVUkW00SkhVdcJiDh16N5BS6XHFnZfm9dVFbS1UQWeRZn57x-fvEIBIDfQyBdRb06o-gEZugrBD4kSpE12AqMnjDbPM6v-LViDoXRUnlvZxWOEFxQDB8mANhyphenhyphenoqMJyFDVDollOk_T0cbjGhUjvcypLSFU/w400-h300/426828364_923128859342362_3314580377708353825_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicR5bTlv9Wwb5mQ56vj83PfiKKlbrZAGgHlOMwwixICkCHqYjW_Ub47FQVENyPFtn5ZO3WAwPVHbOdFGLJwPEtCRXMK4YYecydY0yxfPte7NdSlY3sGaPuqMGpmVMPd4qoYDtg-qTB6E2pO_yzH268N05e6Y55KdBEUapBDfKDlSZsS2KXbbSeBzuKbCE/s828/428202327_701322828748595_6784372503340354332_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="621" data-original-width="828" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicR5bTlv9Wwb5mQ56vj83PfiKKlbrZAGgHlOMwwixICkCHqYjW_Ub47FQVENyPFtn5ZO3WAwPVHbOdFGLJwPEtCRXMK4YYecydY0yxfPte7NdSlY3sGaPuqMGpmVMPd4qoYDtg-qTB6E2pO_yzH268N05e6Y55KdBEUapBDfKDlSZsS2KXbbSeBzuKbCE/w400-h300/428202327_701322828748595_6784372503340354332_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>But, of course, I had to have my little stroll through ebay with my wake-up drink (peppermint tea). And I came on this ...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMi9xDum9uDXvRaryRfSXizJ6kkCZF4LEbjG5viZa90gg_qomS8dGKNE-jBNSQEk_vzT1J6t6HXjgVerDu3vghrRBcLft1MCyHrH_9fkt_FOb_8B7sFnYCz4inP-WWDdqV3wqbC9m6losTuk1aB_sancmXCVCxMP_aDdSabfQ9EyXhkXAQfTWn0xaYrxY/s1600/s-l1600-15.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="982" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMi9xDum9uDXvRaryRfSXizJ6kkCZF4LEbjG5viZa90gg_qomS8dGKNE-jBNSQEk_vzT1J6t6HXjgVerDu3vghrRBcLft1MCyHrH_9fkt_FOb_8B7sFnYCz4inP-WWDdqV3wqbC9m6losTuk1aB_sancmXCVCxMP_aDdSabfQ9EyXhkXAQfTWn0xaYrxY/w392-h640/s-l1600-15.jpg" width="392" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Tiens! A Cuban hermaphrodite. With bow and no arrow ...<div><br /></div><div>I didn't know the lady, but I thought my friend Kevin (who is into that old business of boys dressed up as girls and vice versa) would be interested, so I had a wee delve. </div><div><br /></div><div>Well, there isn't much about her on the web. One can drag up a list of stage credits for her without too much trouble. But about her personal life, just a couple of tales, most prominently about her death and the fight over her legacy. This is one of the longer efforts.</div><div><br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: repeat white; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="letter-spacing: 0.05pt;">M'lle Marie Zoe (1840-1885)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">Actress and dancer M’lle Marie Zoe was born in Havana, Cuba, where she first performed in 1854. She debuted in the <a href="https://artsandculture.google.com/entity/m09c7w0">U.S.</a> in 1855 and was billed as “The Cuban Sylph.” She specialized in breeches parts. Marie bought a house in <a href="https://artsandculture.google.com/entity/m01mdhg">Hempstead</a>, Long Island, and moved there with her husband, dance master Ben Yates. In 1885 Yates claimed his wife’s mind had been “affected” and had Marie Zoe committed to the Mineola Insane Asylum. He remained undeterred by the complaints of abuse and neglect filed against it. Mrs. Yates died within a few months. Her two sisters from <a href="https://artsandculture.google.com/entity/m0dclg">Philadelphia</a> arrived and told Yates that Marie had promised them the house; they tried to evict him. Just then a will suddenly appeared among the papers of a deceased judge, stating that Mrs. Yates had left her entire estate to her husband. In this <a href="https://artsandculture.google.com/entity/m068jd">photo</a> the young Marie Zoe poses in a military costume, complete with a mustache.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">Well, here is one biog from her lifetime ...</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFTml787A7R1mcsL4pqbkLmu3k377O7tlWoSFRczQHE_HxkNGdUn9Hz44CJ1HJyJaYhoGPjOCcigECPt6E9puz_Kg8Wk2mtFVpRacoReX2Ywg74DbwOBSgLXnWk332lo7ljbr1n6P68wBLvmI277qAQLwk3YXNRu1uVQXHYR5lxtbPlnaoLo-vW-iFVnQ/s404/NYC18640430.1.5-33-4137-934-2016-187w.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="404" data-original-width="187" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFTml787A7R1mcsL4pqbkLmu3k377O7tlWoSFRczQHE_HxkNGdUn9Hz44CJ1HJyJaYhoGPjOCcigECPt6E9puz_Kg8Wk2mtFVpRacoReX2Ywg74DbwOBSgLXnWk332lo7ljbr1n6P68wBLvmI277qAQLwk3YXNRu1uVQXHYR5lxtbPlnaoLo-vW-iFVnQ/w296-h640/NYC18640430.1.5-33-4137-934-2016-187w.jpg" width="296" /></a></div><div><br /></div>And here an obit. You will note it quotes the article above on birth details. Which are incorrect. Her husband or 'husband' survived her, so the 'facts' clearly had his blessing. I would rather think he invented them.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuX1HFNoaOm_gB63wNsdDMGLVJIRrTBgcmwAW94RwmPEXMQUuK35vfw5OJStiq09-hO0YN0QUjcQJl5OwCvO88AYEPMjNLxbIXJbf9Cophy2RQ8X6xt6xqqgMPpJ3ync2KhicBF4c7AN_nBMIhwCjioev4DkDcYQLl6SvZhT-ey9vKlSD9wXlfEPveO74/s252/NYC18870101.1.12-1682-4291-729-755-243w.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="243" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuX1HFNoaOm_gB63wNsdDMGLVJIRrTBgcmwAW94RwmPEXMQUuK35vfw5OJStiq09-hO0YN0QUjcQJl5OwCvO88AYEPMjNLxbIXJbf9Cophy2RQ8X6xt6xqqgMPpJ3ync2KhicBF4c7AN_nBMIhwCjioev4DkDcYQLl6SvZhT-ey9vKlSD9wXlfEPveO74/w386-h400/NYC18870101.1.12-1682-4291-729-755-243w.jpg" width="386" /></a></div>One. Her real name was clearly not 'Marie Zoe'. Two. She was apparently the daughter of a Cuban gentlemen and an American lady. They were probably married, as 'two sisters' (unnamed) surface at legacy-grabbing time. She always said she was born in Cuba, so maybe she was 'The Cuban Sylph' sounds uncomfortably, to me, like Cubas, the famous dancer. Thirdly: the natal event did not happen in 1840, and she was not fourteen at the time of her soi-disant debut at the Tacon Theatre. Add a round decade, perhaps? <div><br /></div><div>Was she the danseuse who appeared at the Broadway Theatre in 1854 with a Mons Wiethoff? And who made 'a great impression by her graceful dancing' in <i>A Midsummer Night's Dream</i>? They played with the Durand-Lyster opera, she dancing Fenella in <i>Masaniello. </i>The article above would have us believe not. </div><div>However, in 1862 I see 'Marie Zoe' travelling with the Ravel troupe and Mr B Yates, and in 1863 the 'Brilliant professional triumphs of the fascinating Spanish danseuse Mlle Zoe' are billed at the Washington Varietes on Pennsylvania Avenue, alongside the champion lady jig dance 'Mlle Lizetta' (Betty from Brooklyn?) and Professor Yates's Ballet Troupe of Female Loveliness. Mr Yates is the man who would become Mr Zoe. And it seems that they were married (if they ever were) around this time.</div><div><br /></div><div>Well, I have failed in winkling out the veritable details on Zoe, but I've utterly undressed the professor, of which more anon.</div><div><br /></div><div>I see her thereafter at Jane English's Theatre (Laura Keene's) in her new scenic ballet <i>Diana, Goddess of the Chase, </i>but she had found the vehicle which was to serve her from dancer to dancer-actress: Madame Celeste's famous vehicle <i>The French Spy</i>, which allowed her to go through disguises female and male .. and featured what became her 'spesh': the 'terrific sword combat'. Her 'accidents' were reported regularly.</div><div><br /></div><div>She became a star act, touring the best dates with her vehicle. And Mr Yates. While a tightrope-trapezist person put herself forward as 'Mlle Zoe' 'queen of the air' from Binghampton. And she added new dramas and burlesques (Susan in <i>Black-Eyed Susan, Bertha the Sewing Machine Girl or Death at the Wheel, Nita or Life Among the Gipsies </i>or <i>A Woman's Devotion, </i>as Vanderdecken in <i>The Flying Dutchman, Esmeralda, The Mountain Devil or The Dumb Girl of Genoa </i>&c) to her repertoire ... 'Mlle Zoe, the legitimate successor to Mlle Celeste' was still touring <i>The French Spy, or the Battle of Algiers </i>with its 'grand battle scene' in which she fought what was now 'a triple broadsword combat' with a Mons Latour (?Mr Castle from Connecticut?) ...</div><div><br /></div><div>Around 1880, she disappeared from the lists ('famous as a swordsman and a dancer' has been living for five years comfortably in Long Island'), and it was eventually reported she had been consigned to the Mineola asylum ... where she was reported as endlessly going through her famous role and the combat ... she died, 'aged 54'? Yes, she was 40 in Queens in the 1870 census, 50 in 1880 ... oh and in 1870 they both said they were born in New York ... sigh ... they had second thoughts before 1880.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_qYo3B_DZz19egBebXR8vSW7KCyW0nc_0uXiJznWE_TOx0YpjFxJpNBW_7u2PRvRlH6WSlnmU4vAi3Q2P8zi3IjKCZJ5XWGjNfSjIp-gbf-m2PMqivJdHhDAC7Ee2Z37xBhJ1siVLo2CSyThQRaakYdglzg8u2atXxSzHeETroOqbpC0M5M1MaO5d6i8/s862/YAAA.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="97" data-original-width="862" height="45" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_qYo3B_DZz19egBebXR8vSW7KCyW0nc_0uXiJznWE_TOx0YpjFxJpNBW_7u2PRvRlH6WSlnmU4vAi3Q2P8zi3IjKCZJ5XWGjNfSjIp-gbf-m2PMqivJdHhDAC7Ee2Z37xBhJ1siVLo2CSyThQRaakYdglzg8u2atXxSzHeETroOqbpC0M5M1MaO5d6i8/w400-h45/YAAA.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div>The couple's home in Hempstead Village, Long Island had been bought by 'Zoe' in her earning days. And she and her mentor-trainer-husband-manager, Ben Yates, lived there until she had to be institutionalised, died, and the ugly sisters tried to get him evicted. I'd hoped that the probate records or the court procedures might have revealed Zoe's real name, but alas ...</div><div><br /></div><div>Ben. I have done better with Ben. His fibs were a little less opaque. Ben, in spite of all protestations to the contrary, was English. He was born in deepest Surrey around 1826, one of the multiple offsprings of a glass cutter named Alexander Yates and his wife, Fanny. They can all be seen (or most of them) in the London Road in the 1841 census. Apparently they (or most of them) emigrated the following year (22 July 1842). Alexander became a 'clerk' and died 15 August 1857. By that time, Ben was already 'dancing'. Teaching and performing ('with Mary Charles, Mary Partington hmmmm) ...</div><div>Ben survived his wife by half a dozen years and died in Lexington Hospital 11 June 1891.</div><div><br /></div><div>So ...</div><div><br /></div><div>There we go. Come on historians! Genealogists! Find the ugly sisters, the Cuban father ...</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm off for a delicious Henri Bardouin pastis, courtesy of my neighbours ...</div><div><br /></div><div>Amazing how long you can make a birthday last! Here's tomorrow ..!</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjviYS6e-k_WZYJ-tBss4kp_iVHJt5r23X5Q_08duFvu1RgmBOOOckE0L0vRecdl3KgY2-5ohhQhLtyppxnJkGjbKDEIrIIxMFxDFu2tFmbAZRe03zq9S9YyvrDlTqv83GEagmswMY2cX8iF_jsTHFtCdFu4dzlI8h8_H3_Ife0qPW6O8DUcWTEif0llZ0/s1185/17feb.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="519" data-original-width="1185" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjviYS6e-k_WZYJ-tBss4kp_iVHJt5r23X5Q_08duFvu1RgmBOOOckE0L0vRecdl3KgY2-5ohhQhLtyppxnJkGjbKDEIrIIxMFxDFu2tFmbAZRe03zq9S9YyvrDlTqv83GEagmswMY2cX8iF_jsTHFtCdFu4dzlI8h8_H3_Ife0qPW6O8DUcWTEif0llZ0/w439-h192/17feb.jpg" width="439" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><p><br /></p></div></div></div>GEROLSTEINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08446253124724430879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8935297705846111801.post-74865946316758329182024-02-11T17:21:00.000-08:002024-02-11T17:50:01.388-08:00Knüst in May: the Valli sisters<p> </p><p>These photos came to hand today, so I thought I'd enshrine them in a little article of my manufacture from pre-Internet days ..</p><p><br /></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="color: #444444;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;">VALLI, Valli</span></b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;"> [KNÜST, Valli Marguerite Alice] (b Berlin, 11 February 1888; d London, 3 November 1927).<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;"><span style="color: #444444;"> Daughte</span>r of a Swiss merchant, brought up in London, with her two sisters Lulu Valli and Ida Valli, Valli Valli had a career as a child performer which included an appearance (with Lulu) at Berlin's Theater Unter den Linden in a British production of<i> Morocco Bound </i>(1895; `a notable feature was the remarkably clever song and dance of two talented children, the sisters Valli'), another as Alice in <i>Alice in Wonderland</i>, and the creation of the part of Mundel in Bach’s opera <i>The Lady of Longford</i> at Drury Lane in 1896 (‘a very youthful operatic vocalist’) amidst a number of otherwise straight dramatic engagements. Although she continued in later life to play in non-musical pieces, her adult career favoured the musical theatre, beginning with a small rôle in <i>Véronique</i> in London (replacing sister Lulu) and in New York (1905-6, Denise) and continuing through London take-overs in <i>A Waltz Dream</i> (Franzi) and <i>The Merry Widow</i> (Sonia), through a period in revue (Mrs Merry in <i>Oh Indeed!</i> 1908, Empire) to another George Edwardes rôle, this time in New York, the part of Lady Binfield created for Edna May in <i>Kitty Grey</i> (1909).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir_C3GWRlyFkWhbvuqLkieYllO_BmJEsCKCzqfYFZjL-_R5mQichvWgmOdw5WG7DDcplechbt-R9uOdViJc8KL-ztgNKk3Qk4yCay4S9phri_jniKBhI_F_QF488S5hvrNRSDzeYFI7sO32MclzBHbH4LOQszRjIx4KbNfWIxNkKv3xgAatLboxiz7EWY/s1578/Valli%20Valli.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1578" data-original-width="1012" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir_C3GWRlyFkWhbvuqLkieYllO_BmJEsCKCzqfYFZjL-_R5mQichvWgmOdw5WG7DDcplechbt-R9uOdViJc8KL-ztgNKk3Qk4yCay4S9phri_jniKBhI_F_QF488S5hvrNRSDzeYFI7sO32MclzBHbH4LOQszRjIx4KbNfWIxNkKv3xgAatLboxiz7EWY/w410-h640/Valli%20Valli.jpg" width="410" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;">Valli Valli</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif;">She appeared in further Edwardes pieces in America (Alice in</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"> </span><i style="font-family: Times, serif;">The Dollar Princess</i><span style="font-family: Times, serif;">) and in Paris (title-rôle in</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"> </span><i style="font-family: Times, serif;">La Veuve joyeuse</i><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Times, serif;">revival) and also in vaudeville and the British music-halls (</span><i style="font-family: Times, serif;">After the Honeymoon</i><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Times, serif;">w Seymour Hicks, Lincke’s</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"> </span><i style="font-family: Times, serif;">Am Hochzeitsabend</i><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Times, serif;">as</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"> </span><i style="font-family: Times, serif;">In a Mirror </i><span style="font-family: Times, serif;">w Pope Stamper Palace Theatre 3 May 1909), but after her marriage to American music publisher Louis Dreyfus, she made the later part of her career in America. There she was seen in a botched version of Jean Gilbert's</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"> </span><i style="font-family: Times, serif;">Polnische Wirtschaft</i><span style="font-family: Times, serif;">called</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"> </span><i style="font-family: Times, serif;">The Polish Wedding</i><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Times, serif;">(1912, Marga) which failed to make it to Broadway, in Weber and Fields's</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"> </span><i style="font-family: Times, serif;">Roly-Poly</i><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Times, serif;">(1912),</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"> </span><i style="font-family: Times, serif;">The Purple Road</i><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Times, serif;">(1913, Empress Josephine, later Wanda),</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"> </span><i style="font-family: Times, serif;">The Queen of the Movies</i><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Times, serif;">(</span><i style="font-family: Times, serif;">Die Kino-Königin</i><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Times, serif;">1914, Celia Gill),</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"> </span><i style="font-family: Times, serif;">The Lady in Red</i><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Times, serif;">(</span><i style="font-family: Times, serif;">Die Dame in</i><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"> </span><i style="font-family: Times, serif;">Rot</i><span style="font-family: Times, serif;">, 1915, Sylvia Stafford) and</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"> </span><i style="font-family: Times, serif;">Miss Millions</i><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Times, serif;">(1919, ingénue Mary Hope). She was also seen on Broadway in</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"> </span><i style="font-family: Times, serif;">The Cohan Revue of 1916</i><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Times, serif;">(1916, Jane Clay).</span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;">Sister Lulu, [Lulu Marianne Bertha KNÜST] (b London 17 June 1886; d London 12 May 1964) who was seen as early as 1894 in <i>The House That Jack Built</i> (Miss Truth) at the Opera Comique, appeared as an adult as Miss Yost and deputized for Marie Studholme as Cicely in London’s <i>The School Girl</i> (1903) and later took over Billie Burke's rôle of Mamie and played it on Broadway (1904, without its big song `My Little Canoe' which had been appropriated by the star) as well as appearing in such diverse pieces as<i> The Silver Slipper</i> (1902, tour), <i>The Orchid</i> (1905, t/o Thisbe) at the Gaiety, <i>The Maid and the Motor Man</i> (1907, Kate Wicks) and <i>Véronique</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgluqRj2ux39DNuOhHLQFhN0oz7HiuYDlzzl6q8k5eXo7s6ktPZzUmZA_GN2VWxkRXKRjKQodxNPU3zEvBZp53MX9YHl5luAOFAFKzwTy2MO6Eq-DMqrUi4TqVRvlYedbCMbwcj-Pt_NjZ1GcQ8kA5PdfSwK62VqIRq8ycdWlecuc7yaydQazMHE849AIA/s1600/Lulu.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1027" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgluqRj2ux39DNuOhHLQFhN0oz7HiuYDlzzl6q8k5eXo7s6ktPZzUmZA_GN2VWxkRXKRjKQodxNPU3zEvBZp53MX9YHl5luAOFAFKzwTy2MO6Eq-DMqrUi4TqVRvlYedbCMbwcj-Pt_NjZ1GcQ8kA5PdfSwK62VqIRq8ycdWlecuc7yaydQazMHE849AIA/w410-h640/Lulu.jpg" width="410" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhndLpbosSD2MNqoHCi1a64DS8zQ2PpOoSwT7AmrVJWJgURRmQLS3y9b252gwRcT4wHZ7I6aHJZWG8ZV1Yqk6-8B5c_wKz_friLm7Qj0WNey3PKIIRAR3GjddlX0Dc-a4aNvzvceLUqB8xtOgwtNRWMvdFIt1PvTIXtkMxjjnzQs9rK22YV5-O8mOx2RuM/s1600/Lulu%20Valli.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="995" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhndLpbosSD2MNqoHCi1a64DS8zQ2PpOoSwT7AmrVJWJgURRmQLS3y9b252gwRcT4wHZ7I6aHJZWG8ZV1Yqk6-8B5c_wKz_friLm7Qj0WNey3PKIIRAR3GjddlX0Dc-a4aNvzvceLUqB8xtOgwtNRWMvdFIt1PvTIXtkMxjjnzQs9rK22YV5-O8mOx2RuM/w398-h640/Lulu%20Valli.jpg" width="398" /></a></div><br /><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Times, serif;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif;">As for little Ida [Maude Ida Fredrika KNÜST], who had done so well as a child when she appeared as Mr Hook in Frank Curzon's children's production of</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"> </span><i style="font-family: Times, serif;">Miss Hook of Holland, </i><span style="font-family: Times, serif;">in</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"> </span><i style="font-family: Times, serif;">Little Black Sambo and Little White Barbara</i><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Times, serif;">(1904, Topsy) and in the Gaiety Theatre’s</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"> </span><i style="font-family: Times, serif;">Two Naughty Boys</i><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"> (1906, Agnes), she muddied the waters by changing her name to ‘Phyllis Maude’ when she reached years of discretion, and as Phyllis Maude she apparently worked in America in supporting rôles.</span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipvvOFfdhBIMxSANMwRN6dGZPBRBAjBM7R0SIYhPVnu5I4bTr_-fOnv_CCkq3voM-3vF0CnMirJK0Q6BWh6YA1msT6Rr9SwoOjT9vC8IOaHG5tC3s7umH-L3VkPYAevwtI_7k1dA0qNVon9aEKa0BT920iCU6gV61-hPugtn3mAt94P7xvfJyQAfZSHoY/s1600/Ida%20Valli.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1043" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipvvOFfdhBIMxSANMwRN6dGZPBRBAjBM7R0SIYhPVnu5I4bTr_-fOnv_CCkq3voM-3vF0CnMirJK0Q6BWh6YA1msT6Rr9SwoOjT9vC8IOaHG5tC3s7umH-L3VkPYAevwtI_7k1dA0qNVon9aEKa0BT920iCU6gV61-hPugtn3mAt94P7xvfJyQAfZSHoY/w418-h640/Ida%20Valli.png" width="418" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: Times, serif;"><br /></span><p></p>GEROLSTEINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08446253124724430879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8935297705846111801.post-490105374793975102024-02-11T17:04:00.000-08:002024-02-11T17:05:41.664-08:00'The female tenor': you gotta have a gimmick!<p> </p><p><b style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span lang="EN-US">MELA, Eugenia </span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">(b Palermo c 1846; d Isola della Scala February 1879)</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Gimmicks rarely work in the world of serious music. Signorina Mela was (or was made) a gimmick.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Eugenia Mela was born in Palermo. But she was not ‘Sicilian’ as one Italian book insists, she was born there while her father was fulfilling an engagement at the local Teatro Carolino, over the 1846-7 season. Her father was named Vincenzo Mela, he came from Isola della Scala and, according to local records, was born 27 October 1821, and he first attempted a career as a bass singer. He turns up at the San Carlo (<i>Mose in Egitto</i>), Cuneo, Pavia and Modena in 1844 and 1845, before moving on to Palermo (<i>I Puritani, Le due foscari, Leonora, Chiara di Rosembergh</i>) as third bass. Then he decided to go in for conducting and composing instead, although he occasionally got up to air his voice in concert or even a show.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">He rolled out a number of stage works, from 1853, during his years as a provincial musician (<i>Il Feudatario, L’Alloggio militare, Il Convento di San Nicola</i>, <i>La Testa di Bronzo, Cristoforo Colombo</i>) and in July 1865 a little piece (prologue and one act) called <i>La Casino di campagna</i>, was given at Milan’s Teatro Re by the local Società Musicale. The tenor role of Balden was played by his teenaged (?) daughter Eugenia.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Eugenia had a contralto range. So what was unusual about a contralto playing a pants part? And playing it, apparently, with more success than the Mela had had to date. The ‘gimmick’ was that Eugenia – making, it was said, her first stage appearance -- was billed by her father as ‘the female tenor’.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Soon after, the Melas left Italy. It is said that Vincenzo was something of a political activist and departure was necessary. It also seemed to fit with his plans. They turned up in Paris, and Eugenia, with her ambisextrous air and her seemingly ambisextrous voice became a fashionable item in certain private (not to mention wealthy and social) circles. She was to be heard in the salons of such as the Duke Pozzo di Borgo, the railway magnate Emile Pereire, and the musical meetings of Rossini and Naudin, ‘dressed in slashed velvet pourpoint with a rapier at her side’. The fashionable world buzzed. And where fashion buzzed, Bagier of the Théâtre des Italiens had an ear. He hired Mlle Mela. And publicity flew. ‘She has astonished her own natives at Milan, and is now about to do the same for the natives at Paris. Her voice is a pure tenor …’.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Of course, it was nothing of the sort. It was a plain ordinary lowish contralto. The ‘female tenor’s’ trick was that she took her chest tones up, like the 20th century’s ‘bash’ singer, to an extreme height. Once the Parisian musical critics began to hear her, the word was out: ‘je me demande si cet organe durera longtemps ou du moins si la poitrine resistera’.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">The engagement of Mlle Mela didn’t make for unanimity. Mme Grossi, engaged to sing Isabella in <i>L’Italiana in Algieri</i>, refused to play opposite the ‘female tenor’, and the young Carolina Zeiss took the role with fellow Belgian, Agnesi, in support. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">‘Mlle Eugénie Mêla ne serait rien moins qu'un phénomène, ni 'homme, ni femme, ni soprano …’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">‘Commençons par une certaine affiche monstre, annonçant la grande exhibition, au Théâtre-Italien, de la chanteuse-ténor, Mlle Mêla … femme à la barbe ... Mme de Girardin ayant écrit spirituellement que l'Alboni avait avalé un rossignol, ma première pensée, en entendant Mlle Mêla, a été que cette jeune personne ténorisante avait mangé Nicolini’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">The publicity and the gimmick rebounded. The Belgians got fine notices. Eugenia did not: ‘Mlle Mela a débuté l'autre jour aux Italiens, dans l<i>'Italiana in Algeri</i>, et y a subi un échec très complet. Sommes-nous débarrassés des phénomènes? J'ai bien peur que non. Voici qu'il nous arrive une Miss Minken, surnommée la femme Mazeppa’. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">‘L'apparition de Mlle Mêla à titre de ténor, dans <i>l'Italiana in Algerie</i>, n'a été, il faut bien en convenir, qu'une plaisanterie vocale’.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Bagier must have made some major concessions to get the chouchou of the camp salons to play (albeit disastrously) at his house. When the season was over, he staged a single performance of <i>Il Casino di Campagna </i>with Eugenia in her original role. ‘A very poor opera’ concluded the press.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">But fashion is fashion, and there are always a few who love a gimmick. In May Julius Benedict announced her (‘first in England’) for his grandiose concert, a Mrs Monk hired her to sing with Titiens and Deméric-Lablache at a posh party at her Eaton Square home, Mme Gayrard Pacini, who had appeared with Eugenia in Paris concert, displayed her to London at her June concert. She was still plugging the ‘female tenor’ angle, and sang ‘M’appari’. She appeared at the Signori Pezze and Traventi’s do chez the Marchioness of Downshire (9 July 1866), at Signor Franceschi’s matinee at a private home, duetting as a tenor. She was no more a top-liner and a billable artist, just a novelty item, like a comic song in a classic concert.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnjzDSkwAfp_eekOLcq5ZBVM2WF_Ix6Eg4kLHKzpFNoC7t54RCHcgzD1R2Z6OL1ARFanuQQpqsqS86JPBB-R5oOUphy68HJT12q9xA0BAcA1GakjE9jgvuOL25gt6E8Gr1_wvJJzASnHyI2cqTlExQyRFHGT0dwWB9mWNnpVWudD4hSQS-RfbJDji2ZTg/s1600/Eugenie%20Mela%201866.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="979" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnjzDSkwAfp_eekOLcq5ZBVM2WF_Ix6Eg4kLHKzpFNoC7t54RCHcgzD1R2Z6OL1ARFanuQQpqsqS86JPBB-R5oOUphy68HJT12q9xA0BAcA1GakjE9jgvuOL25gt6E8Gr1_wvJJzASnHyI2cqTlExQyRFHGT0dwWB9mWNnpVWudD4hSQS-RfbJDji2ZTg/w392-h640/Eugenie%20Mela%201866.jpg" width="392" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eugenia Mela</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">She was back in Paris for more concerts in 1867, and its seems the Faubourg had not deserted her. Nor had her filial duty. ‘<span style="color: #262626;">La fashion du noble faubourg et des diverses aristocraties nobiliaires et financières des autres quartiers de la capitale, avait tenu à honorer de sa présence le concert donné par Mlle Mêla, jeune et jolie cantatrice italienne … Comme à son habitude, Mlle Mela a chanté avec beaucoup de goût l'ariette Casino di Campagna. Mlle Mela a clôturé cette charmante et agréable soirée par une mazurka de la Farfalla, de la composition de son père, qui a été bissée …’ She also sang his ‘Salve Regina’, and the <i>Traviata</i> duet … as a man. (16 March 1867). At her own concert, she joined Tagliafico and her father in the famous ‘Pappatacci’. And the Parisian press dared to wonder ‘why was she so suddenly ejected from the Italiens?’. Two-faced lot.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #262626;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #262626;">She returned to Britain in 1868. I see her singing at Brentwood with ‘Florence de Courcey’, at one of Madame Puzzi’s concerts, at the West London Rifles concert with Fanny Holland and Bessie Palmer and, for goodness sake, at the Philharmonic Society singing alongside Edith Wynne (Gazzaniga’s ‘La morte de giusto’), at George Tedder’s cheerful do, for pianist Marian Buels, for Ganz singing his ‘Te cerco in ogni fior’, at Ernest Mottes’s …<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #262626;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">And that is the end. I suppose that with Italy having been satisfactory revolutionised, it was safe to go home. Vincenzo to his career as minor musician, and Eugenia … well, I don’t see the ‘female tenor’ in the sheets any more. Until a wee notice of her death, in 1879.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Vincenzo Mela died 1 November 1897. Someone must have thought highly of him, for he has a street named after him in his home town. And someone has deemed it worthy to do a scholarly bibliography and worklist on his behalf on the web. Not so his daughter. By whom, I suspect, he didn’t do so well. A gimmick can be dangerous to the health. She might have made a nice wee local career as a contralto.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">The publicity around the ‘tenoressa’ has got her into modern reference works as a freak. Just for the advertising. She was undoubtedly way below Mrs Howard Paul and her imitation of Sims Reeves in posing as a ‘female tenor’, but the gimmick advertising stuck. For a couple of years. And then it was over. And then the ‘voix rauque’ of Mlle Mela was heard no more.<span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>GEROLSTEINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08446253124724430879noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8935297705846111801.post-22858229052915255712024-02-11T14:35:00.000-08:002024-02-11T14:35:41.958-08:00AROUND THE WORLD... in blackface?<p> </p><p>I came upon this photo today, in the depths of ebay. The vendor had just labelled it 'Italian dancers to be identified'. I turned it over. Lille 30 April 1877. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXgZ7z99nj9XvV_yxUY9Un3cCk-eT94zw2DFXzSSJP3ATKSczaaGS7Yhrx6Cnxa4ILrsdu25wz_6NM2hN0a_MWDbU9LKHdE2osChkPdTh4ucCI_t26QSKU3exe22amNL2uQMKKhDy6iVTRtLTXmlz_P9HCA3E-chdqsQzhUhaEBQSWNp1ftQY2DF5njhw/s1600/Parm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="970" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXgZ7z99nj9XvV_yxUY9Un3cCk-eT94zw2DFXzSSJP3ATKSczaaGS7Yhrx6Cnxa4ILrsdu25wz_6NM2hN0a_MWDbU9LKHdE2osChkPdTh4ucCI_t26QSKU3exe22amNL2uQMKKhDy6iVTRtLTXmlz_P9HCA3E-chdqsQzhUhaEBQSWNp1ftQY2DF5njhw/w388-h640/Parm.jpg" width="388" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6trEkpqLUjVy9ebzB7jyrsxwJ5Le8EMaQ-2y7sx70ZkN9ZQywb7noky3JVPVLpW6eCR609ro51QkL23Bh6D1WXxa-1RTf_GCZIaS11LJvQLPRqyBHliB1oCWzXscV-5DkR00pc-KqEXId33vkz9fsXz1JO1S7y2hkQSNWbYMnqSAXCZnjWleufxzmaFU/s1600/Parm%20verso.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="963" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6trEkpqLUjVy9ebzB7jyrsxwJ5Le8EMaQ-2y7sx70ZkN9ZQywb7noky3JVPVLpW6eCR609ro51QkL23Bh6D1WXxa-1RTf_GCZIaS11LJvQLPRqyBHliB1oCWzXscV-5DkR00pc-KqEXId33vkz9fsXz1JO1S7y2hkQSNWbYMnqSAXCZnjWleufxzmaFU/w386-h640/Parm%20verso.jpg" width="386" /></a></div><br />Giovannina PARMIGIANI 'première danseuse du théâtre de milan' and Almerinda PASTORE 'première danseuse du Théâtre-Lyrique' ...<div><br /></div><div>The photo was taken during a long-touring production of LE TOUR DU MONDE and, yes, Parmigiani is blacked up (at least I think she is) to dance the rôle of 'La Negresse' ...</div><div><br /></div><div><div>The spectacle had been played at the Porte-Saint-Martin a couple of years before the tour which untied our two star dancers ..</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVYqCahcVUm3byO63SmRAtrg6NZigJHQ7MlDnkpu864-bvEZjUjGRDlGZOJJ10tm_Q5bLryGrA2TWyyDsTQwtcqq34xa207lNtyLC0XJScM84ro21osz9qfa1NZOgzsvr-QKX79A-yJrpuhWwDTyQWOFvUFM9bjPfsviMe5qxUb1ymVWCmQUtLPtkcoBo/s1489/The%CC%81a%CC%82tre_de_la_Porte_St_%5B...%5D_btv1b531873674.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1489" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVYqCahcVUm3byO63SmRAtrg6NZigJHQ7MlDnkpu864-bvEZjUjGRDlGZOJJ10tm_Q5bLryGrA2TWyyDsTQwtcqq34xa207lNtyLC0XJScM84ro21osz9qfa1NZOgzsvr-QKX79A-yJrpuhWwDTyQWOFvUFM9bjPfsviMe5qxUb1ymVWCmQUtLPtkcoBo/w440-h640/The%CC%81a%CC%82tre_de_la_Porte_St_%5B...%5D_btv1b531873674.JPEG" width="440" /></a></div>and it would make regular returns to Paris thereafter ...</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Le Monde artiste</i> wrote, on the occasion of the show's appearance as Saint-Étienne (4 July 1877): 'Que dire, en effect, sure les gracieuses et charmantes Mlles Pastore et Parmigiani, dont le succès pendant un mois a été en s'accentuant de jour en jour, et poue lesquelles la sirée d'adieu n'a été qu'une longue suite d'ovations parsemées de bouquets.</div><div>Qu dire! si ce n'est pas le pas de cheval et les variations sur les pointes dansées par Mlle Pastore nous ont permis d'applaudir et apprécier le beau talents de cette jeune et jolies choréographe</div><div>Que dire de Mlle Parmigiani, une négresse aux dents blanches, do la légèreté et la souplesse se faisaient admirer pas ses pas d'une vitesse vraiment étourdissante ...</div><div><br /></div><div>Mlle Pastore went on to become danseuse étoile at Brussels (1890), the Porte Saint-Martin (1890). the Châtelet (<i>Cendrillon </i>1891, 'un ballet éblouissant' in <i>Mme L'Amirale </i>1892, <i>Le Tour du Monde </i>1893<i>). </i>I note when she crosses to Brussels in 1890 she gives her name in the records as simply 'dite' Linda Almerinda Pastore. So who knows what her real name was!</div><div><br /></div><div>Mlle Parmigiani appears in the lists as prima ballerina at Bordeaux, Nantes (<i>Robert le diable</i>) .. and at Lille in 1879 billed as 'première danseus du Théâtre de la Scala de Milan' .. I see the funeral of her sister Augustine in 1882, and several choreographic credits .. and this splendid article from Cannes ..</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxtsQvRPN45YBE3pwm20TIHnfVM5cxCt-AYEI-xPseV6MbAG7t-MLNxEmzBK4nu1qJteP_xJ7bXRKhCc-vL0O6haUCka3b9OqvcYQyhKmnC8oMINsCF2WSnTSHYjBZcdiwiUmjd2YEb3-SpLW5r-b5pf3KnV1MjgI4Ovu3NNND7VNEaB1F8XOo0Xkj1hc/s1007/par.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="586" data-original-width="1007" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxtsQvRPN45YBE3pwm20TIHnfVM5cxCt-AYEI-xPseV6MbAG7t-MLNxEmzBK4nu1qJteP_xJ7bXRKhCc-vL0O6haUCka3b9OqvcYQyhKmnC8oMINsCF2WSnTSHYjBZcdiwiUmjd2YEb3-SpLW5r-b5pf3KnV1MjgI4Ovu3NNND7VNEaB1F8XOo0Xkj1hc/w400-h233/par.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div>Anyway, I thought this photo should be saved and identified ...<br /><div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p></div></div>GEROLSTEINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08446253124724430879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8935297705846111801.post-35086334957780421602024-02-10T20:59:00.000-08:002024-02-11T13:01:40.799-08:00ART in little Oxford (NZ): a couple of wows!<p> </p><p>Sunday is usually a quiet day at Gerolstein. A little writing, a little racing, perhaps a visit from my dearest friends, Robin and Geraldine, for a bottle and a chat ... of an often horsey flavour ... oh! how often have the corpses of those who 'run' harness racing in New Zealand strewn, pogniarded, my living room carpet (carried home from Afghanistan by my father ....)</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmmFus_wnNazN6Wo8h3OzA4I7xvmrqLrY_2wrmizINi-tARqh0i2JTbn_cXuVnJZRZ0jRQ149zcr61xkI7MTci0hDYWsuvku9AsTZ1Y9qNtVp8tgqseVFqN4WZfkB6lMTSBXVhUA3U9A1OmpVw3Wjzi84mcCEUPRoFbvQGxDJ7oxz4a6obGT5gLboXpTU/s686/wilsons.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="602" data-original-width="686" height="351" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmmFus_wnNazN6Wo8h3OzA4I7xvmrqLrY_2wrmizINi-tARqh0i2JTbn_cXuVnJZRZ0jRQ149zcr61xkI7MTci0hDYWsuvku9AsTZ1Y9qNtVp8tgqseVFqN4WZfkB6lMTSBXVhUA3U9A1OmpVw3Wjzi84mcCEUPRoFbvQGxDJ7oxz4a6obGT5gLboXpTU/w400-h351/wilsons.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>But this Sunday was not quiet. Firstly and foremostly, the day was needed to get our heads in order for the morrow, when the building we signed up for 27 February 2023 is scheduled to begin to rise from its concrete slab. A fortnight short of a year .. more on this subject, at length, very soon. Illustrated.</p><p>Secondly, our neighbours, the adorable family Schad, were having a barbecue in honour of eldest son Lloyd (who used, once, to be our boy farm-helper; now succeeded by his younger brothers) and his new bride. Alas, bride and groom clearly had a long wedding night, for after an hour they hadn't yet appeared ... and we had to go to .. but the kids (whose?) were having a ball in the hay ..</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs2IbgpxerCCX6XAWi9EoDZnkR0AxBA7SQNjQKBXiPfMW1mQ9ADetN48wfOii7ouKSgJaSrfCoKMHX3MvBf6zD2VVYjg0KD_p43fI4DISUHIGllFMflK3NAtqyOD-5bpg6iLHPCtfAlSnRGNWGP22KJdUGSiQqH63ob0JIYxHGUx7iGJ5ZWooPG7CyBZw/s2048/IMG_6580.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs2IbgpxerCCX6XAWi9EoDZnkR0AxBA7SQNjQKBXiPfMW1mQ9ADetN48wfOii7ouKSgJaSrfCoKMHX3MvBf6zD2VVYjg0KD_p43fI4DISUHIGllFMflK3NAtqyOD-5bpg6iLHPCtfAlSnRGNWGP22KJdUGSiQqH63ob0JIYxHGUx7iGJ5ZWooPG7CyBZw/w400-h300/IMG_6580.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>Thirdly. I don't go much to galleries, museums, art shows etc, any more. Let's face it, I don't go anywhere that requires walking or, worse, standing around much any more. We went to the Christchurch Art Show last year, to support a couple of friends, in a horrid space called Wigwam or Teepee. Never again. The quality of the art was, to be polite, hugely uneven; the judging ludicrous ...</p><p>How dare I? Well, in my time, I have been a newspaper, radio, TV etc critic and writer (mostly in England, but also Europe, Australia) not only of theatre, opera, music, restaurants but .. yes! of art. My home is decorated with paintings from the 18th to the 21st century, from wholly figurative to all but. My most recent purchases were from Canterbury artist Carol Holland a couple of years ago. </p><p>Well, today we went to a small (hurrah!) exhibition mounted at the Oxford Art Gallery. In one small room, the Oxford people had gathered together a small (chosen) selection of mostly technically assured and in a couple of cases, truly eye-catching paintings and sculptures. No need to wade through the extraneous paid-for dross at the Canterbury Art Show.</p><p>And they served me chardonnay and found me a loo ... it was all so much friendlier. Too many speeches, but hey! there always are. OK so each of the three judges awarded a Merit Prize. I wouldn't have picked them, myself ... a coaster mat design of flowers, a photographic landscape, and a very neat depiction of automobile parts with reflection ..</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgopagbuOC7g_1Q1MzfAVw2iMQq2WOqpqPHY5Cy8srYRMsmpqcDHnAxPQHGQga5XtAeT4wA68EQXrKiFrd1j_asKyEPX183vMEMo1P8pdbyBFV0D7s-v0LSUig2kjvydo3DcOkfg9-4H6d4U0OsJ92c6LnPTnws0ko8_ZluabiWiNWdDQhsvNoRkz2pdEI/s2048/IMG_6585.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgopagbuOC7g_1Q1MzfAVw2iMQq2WOqpqPHY5Cy8srYRMsmpqcDHnAxPQHGQga5XtAeT4wA68EQXrKiFrd1j_asKyEPX183vMEMo1P8pdbyBFV0D7s-v0LSUig2kjvydo3DcOkfg9-4H6d4U0OsJ92c6LnPTnws0ko8_ZluabiWiNWdDQhsvNoRkz2pdEI/w493-h370/IMG_6585.JPG" width="493" /></a></div><p>For me, there were two items way above the rest. One got the supreme award. (And sold instantly!)</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCeMhJA-aXAQ186acwEAByZDziDWX0Ix5ZGmlc8-F11lOBgPPdq3z44EOikN74vYHqQIm3AH4pKd5iZibpeS8A10u3rYmQ7sW-MHVb2y3GrO6CIzu-Em571vO9I9FVvsuzO_jD_KKQng5J3xEMvDClioD_BIfG8fcOK99WUm3LqPe9zSAcuBo1WHexJS0/s1523/IMG_6587%202.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1143" data-original-width="1523" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCeMhJA-aXAQ186acwEAByZDziDWX0Ix5ZGmlc8-F11lOBgPPdq3z44EOikN74vYHqQIm3AH4pKd5iZibpeS8A10u3rYmQ7sW-MHVb2y3GrO6CIzu-Em571vO9I9FVvsuzO_jD_KKQng5J3xEMvDClioD_BIfG8fcOK99WUm3LqPe9zSAcuBo1WHexJS0/w400-h300/IMG_6587%202.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div>I told the painter it recalled the waters of Zürich to me. She just grinned conspiratorily. I know she's never been to Zürich. But I have ...<br /><p>The other was a 'sculpture' and was in a class of its own. If I were 30 or 40, instead of 80, I'd have forked out the $7k asking price. This is Serious Art ... </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Ws89xubRaLIL9KnArT6Dv4rVjy7Y3Q90WEqTiXup1zip6DNf4CO4bjQxkuQRGd4ksTBzPI2ba9mgEk7TTVrK_FyFZx5rI0DBDj9Y3cR7R9mawfGKV9J-8VEs2oWW6OHMShmGR-P_AdRlwX6IjItHt1ct_2-0LTkDh_HgJ4Q8enCRtLCrJlCCpyaEosA/s2048/IMG_6584.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="326" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Ws89xubRaLIL9KnArT6Dv4rVjy7Y3Q90WEqTiXup1zip6DNf4CO4bjQxkuQRGd4ksTBzPI2ba9mgEk7TTVrK_FyFZx5rI0DBDj9Y3cR7R9mawfGKV9J-8VEs2oWW6OHMShmGR-P_AdRlwX6IjItHt1ct_2-0LTkDh_HgJ4Q8enCRtLCrJlCCpyaEosA/w434-h326/IMG_6584.JPG" width="434" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOM9x1PwtkY8zqJozAiiK-n3XD01CKlr3ILQ3gWhx6RwHfgrmlvxfqQ3fhgW8UYa4HHfVgBFSBoPn21wGq6Pt5w9GnnGvVgyORebGMfYUCoXLZjGGriE8nrXyJeZhbAIKzBYarpqMQNHi3ObBln7GgoxNVk5v5g5nbEVaIQw2z11U39ma1uqV-VSRFP7s/s2048/IMG_6581.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOM9x1PwtkY8zqJozAiiK-n3XD01CKlr3ILQ3gWhx6RwHfgrmlvxfqQ3fhgW8UYa4HHfVgBFSBoPn21wGq6Pt5w9GnnGvVgyORebGMfYUCoXLZjGGriE8nrXyJeZhbAIKzBYarpqMQNHi3ObBln7GgoxNVk5v5g5nbEVaIQw2z11U39ma1uqV-VSRFP7s/w437-h328/IMG_6581.JPG" width="437" /></a></div> <div>Bother the Wooden Horse of Troy, this was the more like 'Le Cheval de bronze'. What else is there to say.</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, home now ... oh milord, TOMORROW! (as Andrea McArdle once yodelled)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>GEROLSTEINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08446253124724430879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8935297705846111801.post-85146261687901847192024-02-08T20:23:00.000-08:002024-02-09T12:50:52.052-08:00The prolific Herr Grobe of Wilmington, Delaware ...<p><br /></p><p>Desktop clearing time. What to file and what to bin. Some stuff has been sitting there way too long. Such as Herr Grobe ... I was lured into investigating him by a couple of very pretty music covers ...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZoq_7du7Q50UxRbKtHaUBm34vgCdJnxEOfS_Bn_xCsxCBABZS6wEI6VVQPznz3eWkDD8kUQYN0Rpexl2gsSEAA4gzKxVeCJUV0MLrvG1ZhuapQDcmdpy5gLKlp1rUAunAvOhrPelVP4gqfNRyYMjE57c0Bo_znLVvqV5NpkFg7IpZ3WB74oPSeDeu_hU/s1600/Grobe%201.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1180" data-original-width="1600" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZoq_7du7Q50UxRbKtHaUBm34vgCdJnxEOfS_Bn_xCsxCBABZS6wEI6VVQPznz3eWkDD8kUQYN0Rpexl2gsSEAA4gzKxVeCJUV0MLrvG1ZhuapQDcmdpy5gLKlp1rUAunAvOhrPelVP4gqfNRyYMjE57c0Bo_znLVvqV5NpkFg7IpZ3WB74oPSeDeu_hU/w400-h295/Grobe%201.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpyDccTP6iFoExry4-Kf6lgzVvR6riWx28FF8MLTm_n1mMZVPbPw9h-j2u0MI1OzRNupPX70d353ntHcn5zr3-IXljIrqk4Mkf7R4aXoacUa53xbEIRcpGdhelOhlXo7UM0ARQ8ekp5EwdPyyUJtR3BJd6MRtF3d2UM4-CCrR9Dve-EogNFOu5IKqHVsw/s1600/grobe%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1194" data-original-width="1600" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpyDccTP6iFoExry4-Kf6lgzVvR6riWx28FF8MLTm_n1mMZVPbPw9h-j2u0MI1OzRNupPX70d353ntHcn5zr3-IXljIrqk4Mkf7R4aXoacUa53xbEIRcpGdhelOhlXo7UM0ARQ8ekp5EwdPyyUJtR3BJd6MRtF3d2UM4-CCrR9Dve-EogNFOu5IKqHVsw/w400-h299/grobe%202.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>It's getting into E T Paull country, where the rule is mostly 'the prettier the cover, the more trivial the music'. I like these covers very much better than the Paull ones ...</p><p>So I let myself be hooked into investigating. Well, Grobe came to America from Saxony (born c 1815), 27 May 1839, described as a 'bookseller'. He got a teaching job in Wilmington and apparently ran a music shop. And he composed. Endlessly. He reminds me of Britain's Ezra Read, in his outpourings of sheet music, often tenuously linked to national events, such as the two pieces above, patriotic moments, buzzwords, or arrangements of other people's popular songs. At his death it was said he had published 2,000 pieces ... that was supposed to be to his credit. Quantity. I don't know about the quality, but I ha'e me doots.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuWYqzdjf-hCTZGLqtXrgq-DFf7OQiMnSCldCDR7yQJJ4S6GFdwJkvq1-Nfzfa2_Z-GJba5L773EsJmw5HakJtcnj_HbGaBoIlExDLOfNJt1wHXH-TxfxqP6FygWGAAwXQ7QpQrT6SjIh4QuGJhek1Pr1V3mB1EUcwj0J-8lpAp2oTBfh_mn_zNmhxv7k/s773/grobe%20pic.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="773" data-original-width="628" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuWYqzdjf-hCTZGLqtXrgq-DFf7OQiMnSCldCDR7yQJJ4S6GFdwJkvq1-Nfzfa2_Z-GJba5L773EsJmw5HakJtcnj_HbGaBoIlExDLOfNJt1wHXH-TxfxqP6FygWGAAwXQ7QpQrT6SjIh4QuGJhek1Pr1V3mB1EUcwj0J-8lpAp2oTBfh_mn_zNmhxv7k/w325-h400/grobe%20pic.jpg" width="325" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Wikiplegia finds him, for heaven's sake, worthy of an entry. I wonder why. Anyway, I append an biographical note from the local press and leave it there</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEildiLIKLNn58fEPC_6OVDz6-utOKeiZNEiQz0OTRt2AexdsFEYbyfA__10XVl8_2GuL-7DCdDVv1ij89QmWsy1JNNFmhALvzWgO7WUDHqijqVxvwh357-Gt_sLjrXOPRtYV4vtPHBiNl10F65Ul5Xo0uXS4pCMNjizND7M1ZEw8T0x87xb0fxu3ybhlq4/s747/Grobe,%20Ch.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="747" data-original-width="339" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEildiLIKLNn58fEPC_6OVDz6-utOKeiZNEiQz0OTRt2AexdsFEYbyfA__10XVl8_2GuL-7DCdDVv1ij89QmWsy1JNNFmhALvzWgO7WUDHqijqVxvwh357-Gt_sLjrXOPRtYV4vtPHBiNl10F65Ul5Xo0uXS4pCMNjizND7M1ZEw8T0x87xb0fxu3ybhlq4/w290-h640/Grobe,%20Ch.jpg" width="290" /></a></div><br /></div><div>Oh dear, THREE thousand! Well, some of them have survived in collections and catalogues, mostly to my surprise, without illustrated covers ... I wonder how many copies they sold. It was an era where music of any kind sat on pianos alongside Mozart, Beethoven or ... Ezra Read. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYQ5Usyj_nv9jOwlSJ6ji5xLhnLs9flWehH5N1_-UbcB2YVXlOvHC7Zq9baMKIeqK5UTK1a7MZTBYJLC-XVtMtpsyJOHoXsAirFMQaYachOfuPzR62v0jGkhOZrbOmW-h_vBPQsLkPHSXeSv7hiICqckb4Gr1wuliGeEXrhPtSDESR7lFrbqeeMCXqoR8/s810/bloomer%20Grobe.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="593" height="609" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYQ5Usyj_nv9jOwlSJ6ji5xLhnLs9flWehH5N1_-UbcB2YVXlOvHC7Zq9baMKIeqK5UTK1a7MZTBYJLC-XVtMtpsyJOHoXsAirFMQaYachOfuPzR62v0jGkhOZrbOmW-h_vBPQsLkPHSXeSv7hiICqckb4Gr1wuliGeEXrhPtSDESR7lFrbqeeMCXqoR8/w445-h609/bloomer%20Grobe.jpg" width="445" /></a></div><br /><div>Does that say 38 cents with the coloured cover and 25 cents without?</div><div><br /></div><div>Well, I leave it to Bryan Kesselman to try some Grobe (I can no longer play, with my few remaining live fingers) and tell me what it is like. Shall I get a pleasant surprise? I doubt it, but who knows?</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, Charles died 20 October 1879 of a ruptured aorta.</div><div><br /></div><div>PS Bryan has just pointed out that the Port Royal piece is numberd 'opus 1,385' .... omigrobe! And I have just unearthed tbis example of earlyish Grobiana ... </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOcsdpcjlGjb849y1bUkZ3eFm5TXLzcavjpzfoWqRVsRnHy33kAiHSzpQ09bNLVmLxkiPsAMinVqqiEfIoQWjxGfXFnClV4vFIQqTLcVaanxRGcbowStI88G7wCafdBLZ8zvGUfAj5PvVifN-iV6Kg3Fo9IDS6yRExtHYJXQE9rH7HtfZFOY5y5JB0az0/s1600/s-l1600-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1524" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOcsdpcjlGjb849y1bUkZ3eFm5TXLzcavjpzfoWqRVsRnHy33kAiHSzpQ09bNLVmLxkiPsAMinVqqiEfIoQWjxGfXFnClV4vFIQqTLcVaanxRGcbowStI88G7wCafdBLZ8zvGUfAj5PvVifN-iV6Kg3Fo9IDS6yRExtHYJXQE9rH7HtfZFOY5y5JB0az0/w436-h458/s-l1600-1.jpg" width="436" /></a></div><br /><div>I see he 'Saluted' a whole stack of places. With variations. </div><div><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>GEROLSTEINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08446253124724430879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8935297705846111801.post-54013358503312734392024-02-08T10:49:00.000-08:002024-02-08T14:07:51.938-08:00MR RAVENHILL'S CONCERT<p> </p><p>A while ago, a concert programme appeared on ebay. It's still there, and I'm not surprised.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKMLmXRGBKK5L1jJTBi588yoVAXlpVW-gz3c9z-1vYpHHWqqs0RBAHYf01xlpXCoixv-lym5T2EP151yODCsJLcuFtx711mZne0f59I27A8Snu-rp3boktrw-6z7r5j-y1I1M9h1-c9ZegAHvJHOrcn3dTaqECVamMJxMwKIWMK5p7o2dQ7N62Y2vUmwc/s1600/Meason%20Wynne%20Thorp.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1066" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKMLmXRGBKK5L1jJTBi588yoVAXlpVW-gz3c9z-1vYpHHWqqs0RBAHYf01xlpXCoixv-lym5T2EP151yODCsJLcuFtx711mZne0f59I27A8Snu-rp3boktrw-6z7r5j-y1I1M9h1-c9ZegAHvJHOrcn3dTaqECVamMJxMwKIWMK5p7o2dQ7N62Y2vUmwc/w426-h640/Meason%20Wynne%20Thorp.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Ladbroke Hall. Mainly home of amateurs and singing teachers. Claude Ravenhill? Who is, or rather 'was', he? The artists .. well every lover of Victorian music making knows Edith Wynne ... why is she slumming at Ladbroke Hall?</p><p>The others? Well, I of course, know .. or know 'of' nearly all of them. Marginal professionals and dilettantes. But Mr Ravenhill and Mr Hammond escaped even me. </p><p>So I googled 'Ravenhill'. And what?! This programme appears on a number of websites. Why? I am pretty sure that the websiters know nothing about its cast list ... so why? Well, as so often, it is case Ganzl Pollaky inc .. Here we go. </p><p>I started with 'Claude'. He was apparently the plaque tournant of the show. And that name reeked of pseudo. It reeked right. But his hometown papers weren't reticent about unveiling his name and origins and early career so he wasn't terribly hard to clear up, after half a morning's slog.</p><p><b>'RAVENSHILL, Claude' [COX, George] </b>(b Upottery, East Devon x 2 August 1846; d Bayswater January 1907). Son of William Joseph Cox, publican of the Ashsprington Inn, and his wife Virginia. </p><p>He took his first musical steps, while working as an Exter bank clerk, with the considerable Exeter Oratorio Society and I see him taking the quartet music in <i>Elijah</i> with them as early as 1866. By 1871 he was solo tenor alongside Blanche Cole and Joseph Lander in <i>The Creation, </i>then <i>The Messiah </i>with Ellen Horne, when he visited Taunton and Ilfracombe he was billed as 'of the Exeter Oratorio Society'. At some stage, also, before 1875, he joined the Exeter Cathedral choir. But he was 'late of' by 1877. </p><p>In 1878 he married 'a pupil of Benedict' Miss Margaretta Brutton Ridgway, who would be billed as Mrs Cos, until she swapped for Mrs Ravenshill. See the programme above. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1cCgTpUaoWUMepeQzTPyBGDEhsgK4Ii0LA4-LYj4Mt_-htNF2VzVEirgdSQOr5oz4392Hk-WHFwkdEcb-5MTdz1Rp3OpzsLkgKTIY2Zx7_Ht-X5P4CjZxMY_nq91xNYsaFJ8AeO1wr3mP6JKe9m6prmOQznJKpUBc_eLCLI9f_CYKRvKOIpgMMOhPOM0/s2367/cox.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="751" data-original-width="2367" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1cCgTpUaoWUMepeQzTPyBGDEhsgK4Ii0LA4-LYj4Mt_-htNF2VzVEirgdSQOr5oz4392Hk-WHFwkdEcb-5MTdz1Rp3OpzsLkgKTIY2Zx7_Ht-X5P4CjZxMY_nq91xNYsaFJ8AeO1wr3mP6JKe9m6prmOQznJKpUBc_eLCLI9f_CYKRvKOIpgMMOhPOM0/w429-h136/cox.jpg" width="429" /></a></div><br /><p>By 1879, singing <i>The Creation</i> at Exeter, he was billed as 'of the Albert Hall Concerts'. Well, if it were the Albert Hall almost-amateur affairs in the afternoon .. but by 1882 I see him up there on a bill with Christie Nilsson, Trebelli, Maybrick, Joseph Maas et al. And later at the Hall's Burns Night and St Patrick's Day concerts. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg_JaLxg8zVWmRpOrRTxV5AtjTsVSEUXsWJdeAJgWxfcGsrKk9WBuckj4mn09pChTeW6QdXl2rHcBxp9jeEu5-mAxCghvsLVtfL-35OKI3GOc45I4EKdC5O_Qyre3vRfUzmcz-F787dZug_Md6lowv8fKzq93Hdgn_21gzvCImd8Csmkqt0EVPY4fb1bo/s1659/Ravenhill.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1659" data-original-width="1177" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg_JaLxg8zVWmRpOrRTxV5AtjTsVSEUXsWJdeAJgWxfcGsrKk9WBuckj4mn09pChTeW6QdXl2rHcBxp9jeEu5-mAxCghvsLVtfL-35OKI3GOc45I4EKdC5O_Qyre3vRfUzmcz-F787dZug_Md6lowv8fKzq93Hdgn_21gzvCImd8Csmkqt0EVPY4fb1bo/w454-h640/Ravenhill.jpg" width="454" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>He seems to have made some appearances with W H Burgon's little company, as well as on Hastings Pier and the at the Crystal Palace afternoons, and on one occasion, in 1890, he went on <i>in very extremis</i> for Sims Reeves! And was 2nd tenor to Henry Piercey in a 'Cheltenham Music Festival'. He sang with Rosalind Ellicott in Gloucester Cathedral, in the Clifton Chamber Concerts, at Weymouth in <i>The Prodigal Son </i>and <i>May Day, </i>at Portmouth with Zipporah Montieth ...</p><p>And then it was 1 December 1891.</p><p>He gave a number of like concerts in the years to come, made appearances at Devon occasions, in the odd minor concert (Emma Barker's, Beata Francis's &c), but mostly worked as a teacher in the years up to his death in 1907 at the age of 60. Margaret died 19 November 1909 aged 61.</p><p>He had rather more success as Mr Cox than as Mr Ravenhill.</p><p>We move down the programme. Miss Helen Meason was professional enough for me to have prepared a little article on her for my <i>Victorian Vocalists </i>collection. Here it is.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><b><span lang="EN-US">MEASON, Helen </span></b><span lang="EN-US">[LAING MEASON, Helen Eliza] (b Bombay 5 November 1853; d London 1902).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">‘A careful and conscientious artist and a thoroughly well-trained vocalist’ commented a journalist after one of Miss Meason’s concerts. Which was about right.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Helen Meason might not have had a highly-coloured career but she had a distinctly colourful background. Her grandfather was Gilbert Laing (later Laing-Meason) of Lindertis and the Isle of Stronsa, a gentleman of some standing in Scotland, her aunt Eleanor Wemyss Laing [-Meason] was ‘the oldest nun in Scotland’ and led the whole family, including brother Adam the Jesuit, into Catholicism, and her father Malcolm Robert Laing [-Meason] after starting off in the Indian army, became a bankrupt businessman, then a war correspondent and finally a book and magazine writer of the colourful, historical, social, theorizing kind, from <i>Turf Frauds & Turf Practices</i> to <i>Our Indian Army</i>. The re-christened Laing-Meason family spread all round the world, from New Zealand to Argentina to Canada and Denmark, but Malcolm, his wife Mary née Grant (also of Indian army stock) and [most of?] their children settled in England. Son Gregor took the road back to India as a baby officer, and died of the typhoid in Bangalore aged 22 (31 July 1883), but Helen settled more peaceably for a life as a vocalist and singing teacher.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Her own teacher was W H Cummings, and the young contralto made her professional debut at the Crystal Palace concerts, alongside Helen Lemmens Sherrington, singing an aria from <i>Eli</i> and ‘Ah! rendimi quel cor’ in ‘a contralto of agreeable quality’. She went on to sing at the Aquarium, and on 1 March 1878 she gave the first of what would be regular concerts of her own. Ida Corani and Lewis Thomas were the principal guests.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">During 1878, she was seen at Sydney Smith’s concert, the Covent Garden proms, at St James’s Hall Scottish concert and at the Albert Hall Boxing Day concert, in 1879 I spot her in more Scottish dates and with the Schubert Society where she got notices for singing ‘By the Shore’ by Lady Coutts Lindsay.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">The Scottish concerts, and Burns night celebrations (‘Logie o’ Buchan’, ‘Jock o’ Hazeldean’) became regular dates, but she was also called in to St James’s and the Albert Hall on the occasions of Welsh, Irish and English ballad concerts. She performed in a number of concerts with Alice Roselli, another Cummings pupil, in London (‘Connais-tu le pays’, ‘Bailiff’s Daughter of Islington’) and at Cheltenham, and if she rarely got more than an ‘also sang’ review, Portsmouth found that her ‘low notes [were] wonderfully clear and full of feeling’. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">In 1883 she sang at St James’s Hall for the Hungarian Flood Victims, gave ‘Che faro’ at Blanche Navarre’s soirée, appeared for Mme Szilardka Dumtsa at Prince’s Hall, and illustrated Captain Evatt Acklom’s Illustrated Dramatic Recitals at Steinway Hall in the company of none other than Luise Liebhart. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Somewhere around this time she took up a teaching post at a girls’ school in Wellingborough where Sydney Smith was the piano tutor. Another friend was the Savoy comedian George Grossmith, who appeared regularly in her concerts, and at whose home, in 1886 (5 July) she gave one of her concerts: GG, herself and her pupils featured. She sang at Josephine Agabeg’s concert, and Edith Wynne (Mrs Agabeg) sang at hers, she sang at GG’s and he sang at hers, she sang in the Nikita show at St James’s Hall and Nikita did not sing at hers. She sang at the Irish Exhibition at Olympia, at the Meistersingers Club, the Lyric Club, at Beata Francis’s concert and as late as 1892 appeared at the Burns Night concert at St James’s Hall. In 1890, she made an unusual foray into oratorio, singing <i>The Messiah </i>at Wellingborough.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">My last sighting of her as a performer is at a concert of her own at the Steinway Hall in 1895. Her pupil, Miss Sylvia Grossmith, sang and accompanied her father in one of his comic scenas.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">A modest career, in all, but Miss Meason’s name appeared in the London bills for nearly twenty years. A modest talent, perhaps, but if she got little praise, she got no blame, and she made up the weight at St James’s Hall many a time and oft.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">A sprig of another branch of the family, which came to rest in Timaru, New Zealand, produced a Katherine Laing Meason who attended the Royal Academy of Music and there took a gold medal. Several other members of this branch took part in the theatre in regions down under.<span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><b>Beatrice (Beatrix) May PINNEY </b>(b Ramsgate 23 May 1871; d London 22 July 1955) was a teenager in 1891. The daughter of William Pinner, composer of the first attempt at musicking 'The Lost Chord'. She went on to Trinity College where she won the Maybrick Prize for ballad singing and I see her thereafter in concerts at York, the Isle of Wight, Portsmouth (mezzo-soprano), Belfast (her voice is only rivalled by her personal charms), Truro, Dublin, Bristol, Manchester et al in the next few seasons. When she appeared at the Portman Rooms, however, the press commented 'her voice will well repay additional training'. It probably didn't get it, for May only performed for some half a dozen years or so. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">She became the unofficial wife of Sir Herbert [Draper] Beerbohm dit Tree, and the mother of six of his children, among whom the future Sir Carol Reed. In the 1939 census she is listed as May Reed, widow.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><b>Gabriel [Browne] THORP </b>(b Listowel 1855; d 214 Ladbroke Grove 16 February 1907) was 'a young baritone with a pleasing voice and style' if 'somewhat affected'. Father Gabriel Thorp, mother Susanna nee Martin. My first public sighting of him is at the Crystal Palace in a performance of the <i>Macbeth</i> music in 1877. He was billed as 'RAM'. Over the next years he promoted what seems to have been an annual concert of his own, at the modest Steinway Hall, interspersed with engagements at various ballad concerts and an appearance at St George's Hall in Balfe's <i>Mazeppa.</i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">In 1886 he appeared in a Temperane Concert where the bill included Marie de Lido and her sister the Countess Sadowska, Mr and Mrs H Beerbohm Tree and Mr and Mrs George Cox. The Coxs and Mr Thorp turned up on a number of occasions together -- from the Albert Hall ballad afternoons to the West London Hospital.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">Later in the same year, Helen Meason gave a concert at the home of George Grossmith ('will appear if he is free') in which Gabriel performed. And he followed up on various other vaguely professional occasions at Collard's Rooms, Steinway Hall, Ladbroke Hal, Kensington High School often with the same colleagues: Alice Fairman, Herbert Thorndike, Miss Meason, Beata Francis, Mr and Mrs Ravenhill (as they now were), Wilfred Bendall, Adeline Paget, Jose Sherrington. All performers who gravitated between the professional and amateur spheres.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> In 1891 (12 May) he sang the role of Peleus in an original cantata <i>The Golden Apple </i>by Alfred M Willis and Frank Silvester at Oxford Town Hall. <i>The Golden Apple </i>('really a burlesque') got several performances on amateur charity occasions in southern England.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">In the later '90s he continued in the same way: Hospital concerts, charity concerts, the Steinway Hall on bills of folk barely known to fame, the odd Pier concert, visits to Aylesbury and Bury up till 1900. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Thorp lived with his unmarried sister, Elizabeth. He apparently had no day job, but lived on 'dividends' And enjoyed himself singing. He died in 1907 and Elizabeth just days later.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><b>Mary Elizabeth GRAINGER KERR </b>(b Dundee 12 October 1864; d Bayswater 24 February 1955) seems to have been another who sang not from need but for pleasure. The daughter of Scot William Kerr and his wife Mary née Richardson, she seems to have been another newcomer in December. 12 December she appeared in a semi-pro concert featuring some artists 'by permission of Royal Opera, D'Oyly Carte'. Was she one? </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">In 1892-3 I spot her at Chelmsford, at Steinway Hall (Otta Brony's, Miss Synge, Marie Roberts) at the Lyric Club, the Prince of Wales Club, and at Cheltenham sharing a bill with D'Arcy Ferris/de Ferrars, in 1894-6 on programmes with such as Arthur Roberts, Letty Lind, Johhnie Toole, Maurice Farkoa, Lionel Brough, Marie Tempest and George Grossmith of the musical stage, in church for the SPCC, on Victoria pier with Annie Marriott and Bantock Pierpoint. Her unaffected mezzo ballad style ('the sweetest of mezzo soprano voices') fitted in, it seems, anywhere from singing a solo anthem in St George's Chapel to Scottish songs.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Her talents stretched further: She organised the Trafalgar Day celebrations, lectured on Early Music and Hebridean Songs in the 1920s, with voice unimpaired, and I spot her at leisure at Bath in the 1830s. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">She died, comfortably off, at over 90 years of age, after an unpretentiously appreciated life in music.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Mr <b>LINDSAY HAMMOND </b>was an amateur. He had absolutely no need to be anything else. He puzzled me at first, because, although his name is scarce enough, there seemed to be four options. I quickly discarded the manual labourer from Bexleyheath who, annoyingly enough was born the same year as the only other LH registered, at Thakenham. But there seemed to be LHs in Folkestone, and one riding to the hounds in Pulborough as well as the gent living on his own means in Kensington. Well, the last three turned out, once I'd consulted the map of Britain, to be all the same man. Our man.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Son of William E Hammond, a Pulborough farmer (seventh child) and his wife Ellen from Cowfold, he seems to have spent much of his youth riding to the Surrey Staghounds, before marrying (6 December 1888) Edith Jane Elmore, daughter of a well-known artist and some years older than he. The couple settled in Kensington (with, apparently, frequent visits to Folkestone). They were 'independent' (five servants) and in the 1890s Lindsay took to using his extra-light tenor voice in the odd concert. My first sightig is at Charing Cross Hospital (with Edith Wynne) and at Rosa Kenney's concert in November 1891 singing familiar ballads such as the hugely plugged 'Alice Where Art Thou' in a 'tenor voice of exceptionally high compass'. Rosa Kenney's little annual concert became a regular, and my last sighting of Lindsay on a platform was in her 1900 edition.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Mr Hammond was a gentleman of the clubs, and I see him in the odd smoking concert (alongside Adrian Ross reciting!) and plugging the songs of Franco Leoni, but a surprise was in store. When Pélissier's <i>Follies </i>company opened in 1896 there was Lindsay, yodelling 'I'll sing thee songs of Araby' alongside Florence Batty, Mabel Engelhardt, Messrs Sherring and Cave Chinn (!!) and pianist Kate Carew ... on a little trip along the south coast!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">But more was in store. In 1899 a <i>Cloches de Corneville </i>production was seen at Brighton. Lindsay played Grénicheux with 'little animation .. an agreeable tenor voice'.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">He seems to have put his tenorious career to bed shortly after, after a decade of enjoyment.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Oh, his second son Aubrey Lindsay Hammond (1894-1940) became 'an artist and stage designer who was a pioneer in the devlopment of modern techniques of camouflage'.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Apart from Mme Wynne, by far the most the most reputable of the singers at the Cox-Ravenhill Concert was <b>[?George] Stanley SMITH. </b> I'm still tracking him down. Smiths take a while. But I merely know that a Stanley Smith was active in the 1880s, singing in the quartets in <i>Elijah </i>with the Albert Hall Choral Society in 1881 and 1882 (with George Cox!) and at the Bedfordshire Music Festival, later he would fulfil the same role at the Hereford Festival and with the Sacred Harmonic Society. We are talking 'class' here. He appeared with the Sacred Harmonic Society in <i>The Childhood of Christ, The Garden of Olivet/Lauda Sion. The Martyr of Antioch, </i>the <i>Stabat Mater ... </i>he revisited the Hereford Festival (1888) where he sang the Forester in <i>The Golden Legend ... </i>By 1890 I see him (is it him?) labelled 'of Westminster Abbey' and conducting concerts and what? Is that him in 1893 playing in <i>Nitouche </i>at the Trafalgar Square Theatre? Wow! In 1897 he is still singing his part in <i>Elijah ... </i>at the Queen's Hall for the Royal Society of Musicians ... oh, there are too many Stanley Smiths ... I give up.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">So there we are. I haven't delved into the reciters (although Acton Bond made career) but it looks as if the Bayswater/Kensington pals all got together and put on a show ...</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">And why not? All Victorian Vocalists together ...</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5fZiwWDsva9GfZBErxtH42IZnUOFk3BUyxEJtUGeDE-18WIOutiCbvuHZJAQ2v0wlY5cttVdgxM1QINaiJtIHDwtaTaNZwJqtGa4HcqIaSge6ZzbEz3Kw1W2X4flmy2Wj1EpTBcN5gRyFBpOQZQoO4B-ovlh6lxBT5dFE9x6V-Ho5ep8aGRn2LbPt4L0/s1600/prog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1066" data-original-width="1600" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5fZiwWDsva9GfZBErxtH42IZnUOFk3BUyxEJtUGeDE-18WIOutiCbvuHZJAQ2v0wlY5cttVdgxM1QINaiJtIHDwtaTaNZwJqtGa4HcqIaSge6ZzbEz3Kw1W2X4flmy2Wj1EpTBcN5gRyFBpOQZQoO4B-ovlh6lxBT5dFE9x6V-Ho5ep8aGRn2LbPt4L0/w447-h297/prog.jpg" width="447" /></a></div><br /><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p>GEROLSTEINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08446253124724430879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8935297705846111801.post-89505555067279565272024-02-06T17:58:00.000-08:002024-02-08T14:10:39.875-08:00EMMA STOCKMAN or, SCANDAL IN ST LOUIS, MO.<p> </p><p>This is Emma Stockman.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwc6jaWqc5s6xTV04t0tQp26lde547-3cA1PtjAl2JVAhJuoonoFPmq1hKmY7p_YYeDPceBOvWUGWrrvq6ziPHCxOAKlMjjKxeV2zMnrg4bwE_8_vrgbVmi-mvB4zTpDnrTLjXomCIOiVK1BOdfCXVB_ZQ4cjBHCBOXGyEQOt7fBxg24w2pILWp7dNRp8/s1600/s-l1600-3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1246" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwc6jaWqc5s6xTV04t0tQp26lde547-3cA1PtjAl2JVAhJuoonoFPmq1hKmY7p_YYeDPceBOvWUGWrrvq6ziPHCxOAKlMjjKxeV2zMnrg4bwE_8_vrgbVmi-mvB4zTpDnrTLjXomCIOiVK1BOdfCXVB_ZQ4cjBHCBOXGyEQOt7fBxg24w2pILWp7dNRp8/w370-h476/s-l1600-3.jpg" width="370" /></a></div><br /><p>I'd never heard of her, so felt the need to delve a little.</p><p>Born, Baltimore 1855ish. Father Johann Fridrich Wilhelm Stockmann (b 5 March 1818; d 27 January 1886) a grocer-cum-restaurater from Westphalia. Mother, his second wife, Ann Emily Fox. Frederick had 2 children by his first marriage and two by his second, and the first of these was Emma Florence.</p><p>Emma went on the stage 'trained as a singer and dancer' at about 19, as a member of John Ford's company in Washington. She was adjudged 'a sweet ingenue', 'artistic and ladylike', played at Holliday Street Theater, Baltimore, and again at Ford's, before she moved up to New York and a supporting role (Phrosine) in the Niblo's Spectacular <i>Baba, </i>for a three-months run. Eliza Weathersby was the star, but Emma had a 'new song by Maretzek'.</p><p>But her career was not going that way. She joined the companies in Cincinnati and Macauely's at Louisville (alongside William Gillette and Pauline) joined Lawrence Barrett (Ophelia to his Hamlet) and as leading lady to John McCullough Desdemona, Cordelia, Katharine, Lady Anne, Virginia in <i>Virginus, </i>Senona in<i> The Gladiator. </i>And on the way, she got married.</p><p>Her husband was John Walter Norman, a highly popular theatre manager and the couple settled in St Louis, where Norman ran the local Opera House. I have found no record of Emma's performing, just one announcing she was pregnant. I think it was a false alarm. Anyway, after a while Emma began to stray and, eventually, somone tipped Norman off. He went after the villian -- married Henry W Moore, city editor, and managing director of the <i>St Louis Post-Dispatch </i>once his predecessor had committed murder! -<i>- </i>with a gun but was disarmed by a friend ... and the scandal went round the city and into the nation's newspapers.</p><p>Odd paragraphs surfaced ... they split, they came together again, they left town for Topeka and Kansas City, they left America (allegedly at her insistence) for Australia .. but Emma could not get regular work there. Henry got a job as a journalist. Back home John Norman got a divorce, and his health gave out. He was killed in a railway crash 28 January 1895. His obituaries were large and many.</p><p>Henry and Emma had already returned to America. Either together or split again. I see a squib saying that Moore died in New York soon after. Another saying it was London. Another gossip piece, in 1894, says that Emma is still as pretty as ever, but she's got something wrong with her eye .. and, unless it is she reciting in a ladies' club in Jersey City in 1899... she then vanishes from my sight.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXZpilbQqs_sbXdfZHhnOdq_-2dOPXJ0SIr_VL1x3sqlBjKH2eewO5Qk_poIlN8J6jUkfqMHbEMrY0xvcfPQ9QM8rBkNdSJZdZWJU4EQl1KwrnhiNQRVaJvZRzHr6uQBdAW_bnTMQcQzU5PJ4fGoYo8mP7_XxG_7udmwYvlcyLedXK7jBXP5O0pFXSVn8/s480/JCStrauss-EmmaStockman.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="325" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXZpilbQqs_sbXdfZHhnOdq_-2dOPXJ0SIr_VL1x3sqlBjKH2eewO5Qk_poIlN8J6jUkfqMHbEMrY0xvcfPQ9QM8rBkNdSJZdZWJU4EQl1KwrnhiNQRVaJvZRzHr6uQBdAW_bnTMQcQzU5PJ4fGoYo8mP7_XxG_7udmwYvlcyLedXK7jBXP5O0pFXSVn8/w434-h640/JCStrauss-EmmaStockman.JPG" width="434" /></a></div><br /><p>What a waste ....</p><p>Her full sister Gertrude A Stockman became a typewriter in Baltimore ...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiWT9qnfrrNZBLNm9_IxBafQ4Zss1vB7hl3uGLN5HU41P2eYyjft_Lkgaa6if19TzbRX55n6zpLD7j20OY2XbPwZdUP4eAYZxcUNWngj5YmWAyGFb2F2980m8Vr6e00xzPYzGqC450KAzsN79p3dSNPSNw5D8cMEcM2u5o7eWV12OG4xmmcIC71bMjLuU/s941/e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="440" data-original-width="941" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiWT9qnfrrNZBLNm9_IxBafQ4Zss1vB7hl3uGLN5HU41P2eYyjft_Lkgaa6if19TzbRX55n6zpLD7j20OY2XbPwZdUP4eAYZxcUNWngj5YmWAyGFb2F2980m8Vr6e00xzPYzGqC450KAzsN79p3dSNPSNw5D8cMEcM2u5o7eWV12OG4xmmcIC71bMjLuU/w400-h188/e.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>GEROLSTEINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08446253124724430879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8935297705846111801.post-64470969095223519632024-02-01T18:19:00.000-08:002024-03-13T12:14:25.186-07:00'The Girards': deciphering the gymnastic comedy actors.<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Last week, the Operetta Research Centre asked me for any info that I had on the Girards.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Yes, well. I must have. Well-known, of course. Acrobats, trapezists, burlesque and comic gymnasts and dancers ... As with other such acts of a visual nature, they travelled beyond the limits of the English-speaking world and the name of 'Girard' became internationally known. As well as widely appropriated. But I had very little. Beyond the Soldene-Morton connection, they hadn't impinged on the front page of my work ..<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6xDOGdUMxLtXm2uv3-PSpSjwv35jmAZgSXipWtRHm4NNUWQSPXSu5OyG0HCREGhxX40TcE4m75Ew4q3Qd8g_TtLu2Yuy8ApXSOCVCVTRXTcRa8KBvKv8HPnUhiOvTWelm-Ez6dGQ-LLnxO5nA-EqtLkwqHZmEsALMEmHgl77g7tsnYirw7JkJky4Q8W0/s1326/422015225_768171617979751_6705966378069779149_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1054" data-original-width="1326" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6xDOGdUMxLtXm2uv3-PSpSjwv35jmAZgSXipWtRHm4NNUWQSPXSu5OyG0HCREGhxX40TcE4m75Ew4q3Qd8g_TtLu2Yuy8ApXSOCVCVTRXTcRa8KBvKv8HPnUhiOvTWelm-Ez6dGQ-LLnxO5nA-EqtLkwqHZmEsALMEmHgl77g7tsnYirw7JkJky4Q8W0/w400-h318/422015225_768171617979751_6705966378069779149_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Girard group, probably 1896</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">Girard is not such an uncommon name, but I thought I'd at least have a try at sorting out their histories. I've spent a whole day at it. And I've ended up with as many questions as answers. But I'll expose here what I have worked out ...</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqnLbIY78cA_Oe1Q0h0_HAVLWas1EgB30-ETEEQoAWPkVW9juLphSXysx6ddUNnkuq3KAmNarhBjcIcN17b-HhMNTSrimwsoslgmSZA11pZ3BNLwdJz5-ceFsVhfU0lNrHIYsNoZxVTYJV3fo6JcpX_iWkllaSfiBTo22_CiDKt2iBbh7fCBc4q3J_EOQ/s893/phil.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="399" data-original-width="893" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqnLbIY78cA_Oe1Q0h0_HAVLWas1EgB30-ETEEQoAWPkVW9juLphSXysx6ddUNnkuq3KAmNarhBjcIcN17b-HhMNTSrimwsoslgmSZA11pZ3BNLwdJz5-ceFsVhfU0lNrHIYsNoZxVTYJV3fo6JcpX_iWkllaSfiBTo22_CiDKt2iBbh7fCBc4q3J_EOQ/w400-h179/phil.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">The first appearance of 'les frères Girard(s)' (sic) and their 'double-trapeze' comes to me at a familiar venue. The Philharmonic Hall in Islington. 1867. During its pre-Emily Soldene existence as a music hall. No announcement, that I can find, as to its being a first appearance, so maybe it wasn't. No mention, that I can find, of them in France. But they are top of the bill. The English James Ellis (b Manchester 1830) 'eminent professor of gymnastics and Manager of the Canterbury Hall', formerly gym instructor at Glasgow's Ibrox Park Academy, later manager of the Leeds Princess's, and the agent for a number of acrobatic acts, advertised himself, a year or three later, as their instructor. He had some pretty good pupils such as Eurardo (eig Joseph Rowley) 'the spiral ascensionist'. So, were the 'brothers' Scots? Well, wherever they came from, they were not, it seems, 'brothers', but they clearly had been at the gymnastic business for a while already. The press commented on their bulgingly muscled arms. I also notice they were billed on top of an Ellis acrobatic bill as 'the Brother Gerrard'. Hmmm. Shall we ever know?</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT0jk3IQqJLK0yxaFyKH7KazPudTKFVbywl0XAePoE24pKDxzEOd2B-1Co739EnFx2WdsLjyKqjjDqi3hxjmEgU4i2LzsBHcvT4gxITKIf44UkP_HoCK3IUCr50KiX1T209YDJsOz-LbjjZYs658C2L0V3WWme_ErzsHjNoFmZrwOE7k9Dh2H-gTT4NOs/s889/Gattis%201867.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="843" data-original-width="889" height="379" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT0jk3IQqJLK0yxaFyKH7KazPudTKFVbywl0XAePoE24pKDxzEOd2B-1Co739EnFx2WdsLjyKqjjDqi3hxjmEgU4i2LzsBHcvT4gxITKIf44UkP_HoCK3IUCr50KiX1T209YDJsOz-LbjjZYs658C2L0V3WWme_ErzsHjNoFmZrwOE7k9Dh2H-gTT4NOs/w400-h379/Gattis%201867.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">They performed, with considerable success, at Gatti's, for Charles Morton at the North Woolwich Gardens and the Canterbury Hall (with Soldene, then at the head of <i>The Revels of the Gymnasts</i>), I see them at Portsmouth's South of England Music Hall, the Star in Liverpool, the Holborn Amphitheatre (all top dates, and still two performers) until mid 1870. Then they shoot off somewhere ... just before the 1871 census, dammit.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">The next sighting of 'The Brothers Girard' is at the Bowery Theatre in January 1872. And, at last, there are prenoms: Emile, Julian and Russell(e). Three of them. And the act seems a bit different - a not uncommon thing, nevertheless, in polyvalent circus circles -- 'excellent comic dancing', <i>Legerdemania, Caperonicon -- </i>we are into Clodoches territory. In 1873 they were a spesh in a revival of <i>Black Crook </i>at Niblo's, and in <i>Humpty Dumpty </i>with George Fox .. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Tremendous thought. Are these Girards the same Girards as the British ones? I think, maybe not. For an ad in the Hampshire press announces in September 1872 'the Brothers Girard, star gymnasts and vaulters'. May 1872 they are 'the French trapezists and clowns' at Derby. 1873 Derby: 'The European Wonders the Freres Girard in their dashing and rapid trapeze performance'<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">And meanwhile a 'Frank Girard' had appeared at Pastor's doing a nigger act, a Prosper Girard was 'harpist and bird imitator' on the halls, and an 'Eddie Girard' (Edward Gerard) was coming up in the minstrel line ...and a Willie Girard whose real name was Maloney ...<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinSS-fBsOoIQcBclh7f5CxrkuVWIxacmn8g6ETnvK2WHFvUtMttUCW547gK8OMp_93xcpa94H75gavv7FXEVok2EfbBHWQc-jV8QcivSsME737bfyQbJlPICzB-cVQIzh52Mj9Fbs9lH0WA_mXFmB3e28-TC_L19Q83yaOKOogVLVw_BCycfPy-W986z0/s649/willie.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="649" data-original-width="452" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinSS-fBsOoIQcBclh7f5CxrkuVWIxacmn8g6ETnvK2WHFvUtMttUCW547gK8OMp_93xcpa94H75gavv7FXEVok2EfbBHWQc-jV8QcivSsME737bfyQbJlPICzB-cVQIzh52Mj9Fbs9lH0WA_mXFmB3e28-TC_L19Q83yaOKOogVLVw_BCycfPy-W986z0/w279-h400/willie.jpg" width="279" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Willie Maloney 'Girard'</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">Sadly, I have not yet wholly deciphered the various teams, but I deeply suspect that the team at the Bowery were all or mostly American. I know Russell(e) was. He was J Dutton Russell Clarke from Brighton, Mass and he died in Boston 28 August 1876 aged 29.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">However, the bit of their lives which got me into this was the trio's -- and yes, confirmedly Emile, Julian and Russell 'from Niblo's Gardens' -- visit they paid to Australia (arrived by the <i>Mongol </i>from California<i>, </i>May 1874). They and their smash hit act were used by the venial playwright Marcus Clarke to try to cast impurity on the shows staged by the excellent H R Harwood in yet another tale of newspaper 'vengeance'. Why? Because Emile began the act in grotesque female costume. Just like the Clodoches. Clarke's reputation will remain forever besmirched (just like Walt Whitman's) by this piece of cheap-fictional journalism. The Australian papers, typically, described the act in much more detail than their Northern Hemisphere confreres ...<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisynz3-m0lzy4IuUj4ufnwPtp7abq4Sz5uugflW40-JM-4mULJl6Gsxq-DIGevwuGfjDJEczbj_WwM8n3Xv1Hv2grR0I6ZaAmnWYioOtwaz4P7zh_wpIAI2hYTwfjn6hIilE3Oh-mSCOceQq3vkdSYJtrX7WQ3nS9QApZO9ypCrSzyGOfxq7SwBIyR40M/s900/nla.news-page23349401-nla.news-article221215401-L3-036452cdf64f753741a5054c5d63e380-0002.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="430" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisynz3-m0lzy4IuUj4ufnwPtp7abq4Sz5uugflW40-JM-4mULJl6Gsxq-DIGevwuGfjDJEczbj_WwM8n3Xv1Hv2grR0I6ZaAmnWYioOtwaz4P7zh_wpIAI2hYTwfjn6hIilE3Oh-mSCOceQq3vkdSYJtrX7WQ3nS9QApZO9ypCrSzyGOfxq7SwBIyR40M/w306-h640/nla.news-page23349401-nla.news-article221215401-L3-036452cdf64f753741a5054c5d63e380-0002.jpg" width="306" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyEAV6VaxG4zoJXKcSlqLdQwsFcXZCIE7UI-bVo_zTtrMmQ-HDbReNP1vw5a_dGblvdy_jOSa-x4E9JfHLwFCrIes5KH3k5T2eRipofucpLAi-_Jh19tmJsDAiSmF8rHZFwm4c_RsCSE9AP3X-Cw8VCrFUtCcPfmLopBJz91o9IBDUGuomkN7-JV7t__U/s900/nla.news-page23349401-nla.news-article221215401-L3-036452cdf64f753741a5054c5d63e380-0003.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="430" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyEAV6VaxG4zoJXKcSlqLdQwsFcXZCIE7UI-bVo_zTtrMmQ-HDbReNP1vw5a_dGblvdy_jOSa-x4E9JfHLwFCrIes5KH3k5T2eRipofucpLAi-_Jh19tmJsDAiSmF8rHZFwm4c_RsCSE9AP3X-Cw8VCrFUtCcPfmLopBJz91o9IBDUGuomkN7-JV7t__U/w306-h640/nla.news-page23349401-nla.news-article221215401-L3-036452cdf64f753741a5054c5d63e380-0003.jpg" width="306" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiN3SMYnlndMGLa-X77bu1VQK6jT1xfN0dEeHXczBB89iIH8D-nPw-49e5xT8bZcn_xILl4zXsS2oq5BafWA_S7vzDAX86THwGtojYiIx6ztmHJhsUZRnZpq_d828vlfXM3j6viVXw1yX7hBSoPkVbhC-NYj6kktZ3hu4607ircEvUnghG-wtzXNYtQf4/s476/nla.news-page20447410-nla.news-article174547760-L3-21bcdcb68914fa81d785c9bdacb81a5c-0001.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="414" data-original-width="476" height="348" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiN3SMYnlndMGLa-X77bu1VQK6jT1xfN0dEeHXczBB89iIH8D-nPw-49e5xT8bZcn_xILl4zXsS2oq5BafWA_S7vzDAX86THwGtojYiIx6ztmHJhsUZRnZpq_d828vlfXM3j6viVXw1yX7hBSoPkVbhC-NYj6kktZ3hu4607ircEvUnghG-wtzXNYtQf4/w400-h348/nla.news-page20447410-nla.news-article174547760-L3-21bcdcb68914fa81d785c9bdacb81a5c-0001.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNpniqHuM4U-9eI9IlFNDrlzWusttNhscX48VnuYdR3JupyxISrThdAQUYWzdK0Vy4jhNWATU4-G6hzd9Z-51C64tEIVEyf4evSO5rjuKaWk4AKqgkV2M_zlOjXBHca585SdKfz4Ea8oz1qU_Yf3K0vkniIaFZTITaYXkLrKY1VTI90JaoMrhnvsDSxH8/s900/nla.news-page11288818-nla.news-article139121020-L3-b8fae1d65e835c7e5aa6d4c08f8e5bc5-0001.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="646" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNpniqHuM4U-9eI9IlFNDrlzWusttNhscX48VnuYdR3JupyxISrThdAQUYWzdK0Vy4jhNWATU4-G6hzd9Z-51C64tEIVEyf4evSO5rjuKaWk4AKqgkV2M_zlOjXBHca585SdKfz4Ea8oz1qU_Yf3K0vkniIaFZTITaYXkLrKY1VTI90JaoMrhnvsDSxH8/w461-h640/nla.news-page11288818-nla.news-article139121020-L3-b8fae1d65e835c7e5aa6d4c08f8e5bc5-0001.jpg" width="461" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">The Girards played the best part of a year in Australia with ubiquitous success, survived (with injuries) a gas explosion in the Theatre, a rumoured bout of consumption for Russell, and left in 1875 ...</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5oI_FZbEmygtmJeMDWu7Mul32qJ9kVw6vpNJ9LSlyxfsbzO48LT0KJdDGn15g62VtJaQ_Bp_pfyTjIcN8VEgguD00nMb8b3z0WGH2f4M4MQBJAfGXohyphenhyphenUa9-I6KslOXu-uVYjSdJAJyZzLuro49zUy2bJyncvXBqqdP-wUhe_QdF11zW7mQD9JfLE1TQ/s896/nla.news-page7891021-nla.news-article77247962-L3-0560d574ab2b59b63acd188e6fbb5712-0001.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="896" data-original-width="236" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5oI_FZbEmygtmJeMDWu7Mul32qJ9kVw6vpNJ9LSlyxfsbzO48LT0KJdDGn15g62VtJaQ_Bp_pfyTjIcN8VEgguD00nMb8b3z0WGH2f4M4MQBJAfGXohyphenhyphenUa9-I6KslOXu-uVYjSdJAJyZzLuro49zUy2bJyncvXBqqdP-wUhe_QdF11zW7mQD9JfLE1TQ/w168-h640/nla.news-page7891021-nla.news-article77247962-L3-0560d574ab2b59b63acd188e6fbb5712-0001.jpg" width="168" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidPHDm1iR7tpK2vMD_ql0DlulBFlZmgWjb0q0H6DNG80HpRhgLu3OLlm2iCt8Y9DznSVhwV7AkWyawjowpVKpZ_Cez9hnvMDHaB6HrI3Q87QzMpjNXvr1HOaoornNNSXZ1_zHa_WsgUIX0M6TamF1dYFImA_vqRo5Eb6tPa6v27diFmksfBojF7OxlfzM/s569/ips.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="569" data-original-width="240" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidPHDm1iR7tpK2vMD_ql0DlulBFlZmgWjb0q0H6DNG80HpRhgLu3OLlm2iCt8Y9DznSVhwV7AkWyawjowpVKpZ_Cez9hnvMDHaB6HrI3Q87QzMpjNXvr1HOaoornNNSXZ1_zHa_WsgUIX0M6TamF1dYFImA_vqRo5Eb6tPa6v27diFmksfBojF7OxlfzM/w270-h640/ips.jpg" width="270" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">Russell's death -- and he seems to have been the moving cog in the organisation of the act -- left them adrift, but, by 1876, they were back on the American scene doing the 'most startlingly grotesque act ever' with a certain 'Robert Girard' replacing Russell. Robert was American as well, and Allister Hardiman has identified him as being Robert Hanna Durlee or Durié or other (b San Francisco c 1855; d Carmel, Cal 4 October 1935). </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz7hzdj505CKI82GxnHECYrYjNGymxsTuW2sQIEvD_ppD-660TslXLEXkAUjTCFTukNYFR-n3eiZCZiE9AfKtbc5LQvaXthzxMkedEGHSrYx7F9sh2b4mXzmypoxsXgiNsUXNY2UT7GVpbmB-ZgixVSQnU2W3NApFIYQHe8rHkO7K3Zf2GjxwX6YIsT3k/s338/gir%20panto.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="330" data-original-width="338" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz7hzdj505CKI82GxnHECYrYjNGymxsTuW2sQIEvD_ppD-660TslXLEXkAUjTCFTukNYFR-n3eiZCZiE9AfKtbc5LQvaXthzxMkedEGHSrYx7F9sh2b4mXzmypoxsXgiNsUXNY2UT7GVpbmB-ZgixVSQnU2W3NApFIYQHe8rHkO7K3Zf2GjxwX6YIsT3k/w400-h390/gir%20panto.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOo-1S6W5jHcot9eqp-DUepX_oc0b2ccHZlCvRyA2Ffus5gkRXW7IWdmclcG2ds3IWQ-Py7SAGteuIWs_fHkL1qoX-HfVw5lfXjv5V-C2ouZu7_Ec2F2f6alMNL-94girBkkY1Aqx6-qMStOssmIog6lN77yBGZaHWItCfNJ5mHY_z52Ri4SF7scM6UyI/s1135/1877.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="984" data-original-width="1135" height="346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOo-1S6W5jHcot9eqp-DUepX_oc0b2ccHZlCvRyA2Ffus5gkRXW7IWdmclcG2ds3IWQ-Py7SAGteuIWs_fHkL1qoX-HfVw5lfXjv5V-C2ouZu7_Ec2F2f6alMNL-94girBkkY1Aqx6-qMStOssmIog6lN77yBGZaHWItCfNJ5mHY_z52Ri4SF7scM6UyI/w400-h346/1877.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p>Anyway, Robert didn't last more than a few years. He walked out on the troupe while they were playing at Paris's Folies Bergère, in 1880, and went home to the US of A (and his family) where he worked in various Californian theatrical jobs thereafter. The 'original' Girards, and their second morphosis were done. <p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">The other thing that had happened was that Emile had acquired a 'wife'. She was actually someone else's, but ... Kate Perrin (b Tasmania 12 February 1860) was apparently an expert highkicker. She also did not marry Emile in New Zealand in 1878-9 as alleged. She sued husband George Fawcett Rowe for divorce in 1879 ... anyway she was billed already as 'Kate Girard' and, unless proven otherwise, de facto-ed until her death from pneumonia in New York in 1897 (31 December).</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZi2URs6WrcmrEMToz-YIpLho7954QcqJ7c56MZRhVAeHkZ3F66wWqKJ_YGftikAnTaB5QgESzJUCyRjCJubpIezGGOoB0H14nzCe6fYdMN7yh-RlZyEKWJo7UnXQwidALDXW6D5LYVdo3Gtza3DNfuGKyyGmpDzvYP1w8IjeYcgFjogX_z1w0GpF4FJo/s963/s-l1600.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="963" data-original-width="912" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZi2URs6WrcmrEMToz-YIpLho7954QcqJ7c56MZRhVAeHkZ3F66wWqKJ_YGftikAnTaB5QgESzJUCyRjCJubpIezGGOoB0H14nzCe6fYdMN7yh-RlZyEKWJo7UnXQwidALDXW6D5LYVdo3Gtza3DNfuGKyyGmpDzvYP1w8IjeYcgFjogX_z1w0GpF4FJo/w379-h400/s-l1600.png" width="379" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX_OWwweBb1umUqxh9JGq9RyUZM0mXPj3fPTm6ISZmCDljFnUJebGEBRhLXIlng5xzvIkjK3_FkuHenQdpQgQSaTm_f-OpC9zaC1uB7b0VUPKJKhHfbKmOCwPAAE0fFxDlQTxA1x1L8faZ4fXq8LNjkuSFqJYI4SKUA-pgvb5J7vXXWq7LY7k2dT_yPjI/s1600/s-l1600-9.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX_OWwweBb1umUqxh9JGq9RyUZM0mXPj3fPTm6ISZmCDljFnUJebGEBRhLXIlng5xzvIkjK3_FkuHenQdpQgQSaTm_f-OpC9zaC1uB7b0VUPKJKhHfbKmOCwPAAE0fFxDlQTxA1x1L8faZ4fXq8LNjkuSFqJYI4SKUA-pgvb5J7vXXWq7LY7k2dT_yPjI/w480-h640/s-l1600-9.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">After Robert's defection, there was a Joseph who joined Emile and Kate for a while. Julian compiled a troupe of his own 'the marvellous Girards' (increased from 3 to 4) and had a fine London season incliuding the Covent Garden panto. In 1881 the <i>Era</i> newspaper posted three adjacent ads -- Emile 'the original' (with Kate and Joseph), an ephemeral Lucien 'having seceded from ...' 'at the Casino, Lyon' and Julian with a small troupe ('Frederick, Victor and Marius' all dubbed Girard) and large advertising by a noisy agent ..</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixk0knnVVIPDD1XQqRnZ8rFEiVaQpRTk628-tcyqDn_vn9MV0PwI_Uz9XXXG7ai9xVEWSWtCk-0ODhulc1RYTkDUG_ErpnoAXTP-s2SFoUKdPVJL78BvSfRqAJZ7mqBcQRbO-ic9MBURvB0dzns5AXM6fJ3H6-5Yi92EVChQsxLxo-7qfJ_6WFpIBS2tM/s863/Lu.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="357" data-original-width="863" height="165" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixk0knnVVIPDD1XQqRnZ8rFEiVaQpRTk628-tcyqDn_vn9MV0PwI_Uz9XXXG7ai9xVEWSWtCk-0ODhulc1RYTkDUG_ErpnoAXTP-s2SFoUKdPVJL78BvSfRqAJZ7mqBcQRbO-ic9MBURvB0dzns5AXM6fJ3H6-5Yi92EVChQsxLxo-7qfJ_6WFpIBS2tM/w400-h165/Lu.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1879</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxRW2kvOdGSyi4qPAt_6pfxgPHi2e2Cl-9YxDUF95k0cJxSaW31gxDpkBy-zzhwq6KW3GPmEBiAIUGKodP2hcSdH1p08mO04_24yAy5dR-TGZ1xzLthdeLgfcHcg2fGlLZvbxtBHLJK55bSvr38hS0bJCEsAfRKoei63mbARBaNrwfsu20LRfG7bZkd0k/s1345/three.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1345" data-original-width="903" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxRW2kvOdGSyi4qPAt_6pfxgPHi2e2Cl-9YxDUF95k0cJxSaW31gxDpkBy-zzhwq6KW3GPmEBiAIUGKodP2hcSdH1p08mO04_24yAy5dR-TGZ1xzLthdeLgfcHcg2fGlLZvbxtBHLJK55bSvr38hS0bJCEsAfRKoei63mbARBaNrwfsu20LRfG7bZkd0k/w430-h640/three.jpg" width="430" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1881</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">The British census of 1881 gives Julian as 'born America c1849' and a companion 'George Girard', also from over the water. George? I suspect this of being a landlady's guesstimate. We are told that in 1882 Julian suffered an injury and had to withdraw from his troupe. I don't see the marvellous lot again until the following Christmas. And after 1884, not at all. Anyway, I assume he is the Julian Girard who took part in a few subsequent West End pantos ... and probably the Julian Girard who died in Croydon, under that name, in 1901. Aged 52. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Emile ...? Well, Kate died as 'Girard'. Maybe it was his real name. Various little newspaper paras mention the name therafter. I suspect sometimes Emile is mixed up with Eddie. He was reported as being at the Orpheum, Los Angeles in 1906. There was one of his name who died in LA on 20 December 1912. Born Ancelles, Provence 21 April 1856. Bit late? Nope, he's a total red herring. I se he is now doing hat-spinning ..e he and Kate back in Australia in 1895 ..<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">A team named 'the Trio Girard' toured France in 1896 ... a Gilbert Girard played the Alhmbra in 1907. The name had become a brand-mark for a certain type of performance.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Work very much in progress. Any assistance gratefully received!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFWlyfg2d-Mlv3TOvNGAnZfIcJ1ABq6B8hxeqS8YTjeNHuhv0ivg9tQQFTchb4lzkoovPwME2x_Ihq7YtVC96B6G5TC93QjiLQ9CxpgX1TLoqPYrABmbpSwqx9MTAED9oUFlaXdfUXGVQXgBbX08wv3PKbY3lbG7JcVTH0VUDwQ8buep0PUxmGmx7VMak/s1517/image.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1517" data-original-width="500" height="942" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFWlyfg2d-Mlv3TOvNGAnZfIcJ1ABq6B8hxeqS8YTjeNHuhv0ivg9tQQFTchb4lzkoovPwME2x_Ihq7YtVC96B6G5TC93QjiLQ9CxpgX1TLoqPYrABmbpSwqx9MTAED9oUFlaXdfUXGVQXgBbX08wv3PKbY3lbG7JcVTH0VUDwQ8buep0PUxmGmx7VMak/w309-h942/image.jpeg" width="309" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p>1884. I wonder who was somersaulting whom by this time ... or is this someone merely burlesquing them?<div><br /></div><div>And who is this? Louise Girard? Hmmmm ....</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXQ2NjSUlnOagtkeWct7k4BWPIPIi1dXpHXGz4znk6lM480yPrpR288u24IBrXpTimHdzK5q-2fVyw2b9QJO1kAMshUQqoj-ql-pc0MakYRal5Qomsx9aZS3-PnJWDORUexc7dVcIHFur5bth5_MSpf0bzL42Yc6_IGnPQHaSAbeT6TYxSHR7JsCUnfL4/s1600/Louise%20Girard.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1013" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXQ2NjSUlnOagtkeWct7k4BWPIPIi1dXpHXGz4znk6lM480yPrpR288u24IBrXpTimHdzK5q-2fVyw2b9QJO1kAMshUQqoj-ql-pc0MakYRal5Qomsx9aZS3-PnJWDORUexc7dVcIHFur5bth5_MSpf0bzL42Yc6_IGnPQHaSAbeT6TYxSHR7JsCUnfL4/w406-h640/Louise%20Girard.jpg" width="406" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNOE5ZDwvQ52a3NkrnxNkSQQ75tEAZC9VT_gkP494glRmA3MH3HCl5LjDLSKUq7jjOqShh9DYVG3qacq8Mto0afW4XJxnjwlZP2g_GY1j1Xhg01cUTXojsZ8jdKnuVbHP4dwStL1QqJ3W4sZalYuWKXlyU_Puid_zTqvclkigZ_jRgMywa1DukCSrE0yg/s1550/s-l1600-7.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1550" data-original-width="931" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNOE5ZDwvQ52a3NkrnxNkSQQ75tEAZC9VT_gkP494glRmA3MH3HCl5LjDLSKUq7jjOqShh9DYVG3qacq8Mto0afW4XJxnjwlZP2g_GY1j1Xhg01cUTXojsZ8jdKnuVbHP4dwStL1QqJ3W4sZalYuWKXlyU_Puid_zTqvclkigZ_jRgMywa1DukCSrE0yg/w384-h640/s-l1600-7.jpg" width="384" /></a></div><br /><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiew6hLYVZYWfhcmWcwJEBg_wYlxjIwPUPuFridd94GUnVKAI9IRN36qLLh9_khasIFTm1i5YGfQZXI3BAR3-bkbw9oTEoOEQNu3xwuHnCJS0We72I8oTmHSpziMUBWUStVEfiBML_FpM-ipZLpbTUM5bCOe1FcaZFv9Jyq1JLzrv-Gl9oNym39Gj3MPLQ/s960/s-l960-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="608" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiew6hLYVZYWfhcmWcwJEBg_wYlxjIwPUPuFridd94GUnVKAI9IRN36qLLh9_khasIFTm1i5YGfQZXI3BAR3-bkbw9oTEoOEQNu3xwuHnCJS0We72I8oTmHSpziMUBWUStVEfiBML_FpM-ipZLpbTUM5bCOe1FcaZFv9Jyq1JLzrv-Gl9oNym39Gj3MPLQ/w406-h640/s-l960-11.jpg" width="406" /></a></div><br /><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p></div>GEROLSTEINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08446253124724430879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8935297705846111801.post-37977670991724191922024-01-31T12:28:00.000-08:002024-01-31T12:33:08.934-08:00Hope Glenn, a Victorian mezzo from Pennsylvania<p> </p><p>Well, this week is being kind. Today ebay threw up a delightful photo of the American mezzo known as 'Hope Glenn'. Better, it is signed, dated, placed ... so here's my little article on the lady</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdEV_S5UHPcWG1msLtpbP_vjjslXLZf1n_KePu9CA9VweDdNOIk90E2MSyGJB0fscuxbHWcUtntg4f596VRX9Btkrt9Kpj6GYfyaUzMpZsQ6xKykt3zAp7rY-2r7pO9Fw5J9vjHDjnGlRKFC_CJZzDk5FnwekOLXgk3VFfWQzqXyK9Vse387f0yBMuh7U/s1600/s-l1600.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdEV_S5UHPcWG1msLtpbP_vjjslXLZf1n_KePu9CA9VweDdNOIk90E2MSyGJB0fscuxbHWcUtntg4f596VRX9Btkrt9Kpj6GYfyaUzMpZsQ6xKykt3zAp7rY-2r7pO9Fw5J9vjHDjnGlRKFC_CJZzDk5FnwekOLXgk3VFfWQzqXyK9Vse387f0yBMuh7U/w480-h640/s-l1600.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMKvaYCBsC3oJiyzA6vYpYEdddWAORazLZFyAI61mpnLV3RCeaPPPiC-YIYS_wYD6xomlATZwRcEQN0KwHMuthso0QOFhNDkagAP7c1PImSXXkdaXFSK0K-vzoXW92H1o1e6Hmz2QHG5hNrsL8VvkeMmqppb1BXv0Ro1MzxpAuPqol5JAovrqwCi1no5s/s1600/s-l1600-7.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMKvaYCBsC3oJiyzA6vYpYEdddWAORazLZFyAI61mpnLV3RCeaPPPiC-YIYS_wYD6xomlATZwRcEQN0KwHMuthso0QOFhNDkagAP7c1PImSXXkdaXFSK0K-vzoXW92H1o1e6Hmz2QHG5hNrsL8VvkeMmqppb1BXv0Ro1MzxpAuPqol5JAovrqwCi1no5s/w480-h640/s-l1600-7.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><br /><p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><b><span lang="EN-AU">GLENN, [Harriet] Hope </span></b><span lang="EN-AU">(b Philadelphia, c 1856; d London, 8 June 1927)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">‘A pleasing singer, who gained considerable success in the eighties’ commented the London <i>Times</i> following the death of ‘Madame Hope Glenn’ in 1927. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">It was an apt comment. Although from time to time she had been rather foolishly criticised for being a mezzo-soprano rather than a genuine contralto, then, at the height of her concert and oratorio career simply for not being Janet Patey, Hope Glenn nearly always managed to please the public and the critics – in her adopted homeland of England, at least -- with her smooth and unshowy performances, in a career which was ultimately sunk, just as it was maturely blossoming, by disappointment in her private life.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">With many, nay most, of the Victorian vocalists I have studied, finding more than plain factual detail on their private and family life has been much more difficult than mapping their public career. Just occasionally, when – for example -- there is a family historian involved, or a small-town newspaper fond of reminiscing (too often with censorship and hyperbole), the colouring-in becomes possible.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">I worked hard to dig up the facts on the where-did-she-come-from and early life of Hattie Hope Glenn, and had put together quite a nice dossier – born in Philadelphia second daughter of a hardware merchant who shifted to Iowa City and Taylor, Iowa State Normal Academy in her earliest years; trained in Chicago and Paris, debut in Malta, then on to London and the veritable beginnings of her career. It was a good outline, if not bulging with warm detail.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">And then I came upon a 1934 article by one Laura Jepsen in the <i>Palimpsest</i> of the the State Historical Society of Iowa. And there, was all the colourful detail one could wish for. Miss Jepsen spoke to friends and family when putting together her article, so making allowance for the fondness and fantasies therein involved (and I reckon that this account is remarkably free of those demons), it seemed sensible, rather than to pick the bones of Miss Jepsen’s work, to let her speak for herself.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">‘Harriet Hope Glenn was a jolly, carefree girl who participated in the normal exploits of youth. In her earlier years she had gone wading in Ralston Creek down by the railroad track near the old first ward schoolhouse. Later she joined her schoolmates in games of croquet on the University campus and sometimes went boating on the Iowa River with the University boys. On one occasion, during music academy days, while riding her sorrel pony named Peanuts, she tore a big hole in her dress. And in that plight she appeared at the Academy quite unconcerned.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">Hattie Glenn, as she was generally known, lived in Glenn Row, a group of two-story apartment houses owned by her father. Glenn Row, painted white and adorned with green shutters, was on the east side of Linn Street between Burlington and Court streets., But Mr, Glenn was not primarily a realtor. He had a hardware store on the northeast corner of Clinton and Washington streets.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">Hattie was the second of four children: Adelaide, Harriet Hope, Carrie, and Robert. ‘They were a lovely, hospitable family - lively and full of fun. All of the children, with the exception of Carrie, were musically inclined. Both Addie and Hattie sang in the choir of the Presbyterian Church, when A. B. Cree was director. Hattie "was tall, rather plump, had light brown hair and rather small gray eyes</span><span lang="EN-US">’, writes Mrs. Harriet A. Reno, a friend of schoolgirl days. ‘She was vivacious in manner and quite stunning in appearance.’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">I should say here, that the census documents of 1880 and 1885 perfectly confirm all this.</span><span lang="EN-AU"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">Between 1869-70, Hattie attended the </span><span lang="EN-US">Iowa State Normal Academy of Music, under Professor H S Perkins, before going on to Chicago where, according to another source, she continued her studies under Frederick S Root. By 1875, she was adjudged ready to go overseas, and she was sent to Paris where as (Jepsen says) ‘a hard working student who had to succeed’ she studied under Wartel and under Viardot-Garcia. I have found one little bit of proof of her Parisian stay in the form of one of a series of ‘matinées caracteristiques’ given at the Théâtre Porte Saint-Martin in 1877. Miss Hope Glenn is billed in the ‘English’ concert, alongside Jules Lefort and a Miss J Martin. The Russian concert include ‘Mlle Loukina, pupil of Viardot-Garcia’, but Hattie does not have the same etiquette.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">From Paris, she is said to have headed to Milan for lessons with the bulging Lamperti, to whom – in his agenting capacity – she undoubtedly owed her debut on the operatic stage in the role of Pierrotto in <i>Linda di Chamonix</i> at that most purchasable of debut-houses, the Opera House of Malta (27 October 1877).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">Having, debuted, Miss Glenn then put aside the opera and made her way to London. Now Miss Jepsen gets a little lyrical, and telescopes the first three years of the young vocalist’s professional career into ‘</span><span lang="EN-US">Milan, Florence, Paris, London, Dublin and Edinburgh’. I can’t vouch for the Italian credits, but the rest are right, and the last three actually belong to the career proper.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">My first sighting of ‘Miss [Hope] Glenn’ (‘Hattie’ was banished forever) on the British concert platform is at one of the ‘musical evenings’ given by pianist Henry Baumer RAM, principal of the London School of Music, at his home at 27 Harley Street. 12 April. She sang Haydn’s ‘Spirit Song’ and a ballad, ‘The Better Land’, composed by Frederic Cowen, with whom she seemed already to have some kind of a connection.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">Other concert engagements followed: I spot her at Tunbridge Wells (30 April), giving ‘The Better Land’ and the <i>Dinorah</i> song ‘Fanciulle che il core’ alongside Adela Vernon, Barton McGuckin and the baritone who called himself Olmi; she appears 15 May at St James’s Hall at a concert for a Women’s Hospital alongside the star among current British contraltos, Janet Patey, and others, and at Beata Francis’s concert at the RAM singing Randegger’s ‘Mille volte’ alongside Signor Vergara and James Sauvage. By the later part of the year, however, the young singer had the wind in her sails.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">On 27 September, she made a first of what would be a vast number of appearances down the years, at the Crystal Palace concerts, and was recalled fro a second on 1 November (‘Quando a te lieta’, ‘Spirit Song’). <i>The Times</i> recorded ‘a very favourable impression’, the <i>Daily News</i> ‘a young lady with a fine contralto voice’.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">For there, she went on to appear at St James’s Hall in the Monday Pops provoking a confirmation of her Crystal Palace notices -- ‘a voice of rich and sympathetic quality and much refinement of style’ -- and a rare quibble from <i>The Examiner</i> ‘an agreeable mezzo-soprano voice and phrases artistically but the quality of her notes is frequently marred by bad production’. Down the years, one or two other critics would say something similar, but by and large it was allowed that Miss Glenn’s performances were smooth and satisfying. When the Pops season was summed up, the verdict was ‘The vocalists introduced this season have been unusually numerous. Perhaps the most successful have been Miss Lillian Bailey and Miss Hope Glenn, both Americans’.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">She appeared at St James’s Hall in the annual St Andrews Eve concert (‘a great hit with ‘Will ye no’ come back again’), another engagement which would become a regular with year for many years, and on 10 December she made a first appearance at the Boosey Ballad Concerts singing ‘Golden Days’ and her Scots ditty in the company of Edith Wynne, Mary Davies, Antoinette Sterling, Sims Reeves, Santley, Maybrick and Redfern Hollins. She would be engaged again, the following year, for this prestigious series, but thereafter other artists were preferred.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">In 1880, she was seen regularly in the London concert room, sometimes in good company, sometimes in very minor events, but she pops up at the Albert Hall (6 March), with the Bach Choir in the Brahms Requiem (the <i>Examiner</i>, still not happy, insisted that ‘the younger lady was artistic rather than sympathetic’), at on a number of occasions at the Crystal Palace. She took part in the Covent Garden Proms series and the Alexandra Palace Ballad Concerts, repeated in the Boosey Ballad series (‘Lillie’s Goodnight’, ‘The Green trees whispered’), visited Glasgow to sing with the Choral Union (‘not a real contralto but rather a mezzo-soprano and her method of singing wants breadth..’), performed the <i>Stabat Mater</i> and the <i>Lobgesang</i> at the Albert Hall and Schumann’s Requiem with the Bach Choir,and generally established herself thoroughly on the English concert platform.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">On 7 April 1881, she made an appearance at the venerable Philharmonic Society, singing with Frank Boyle and ‘Ghjilberti’ Campbell in Berlioz’s <i>Rome and Juliet</i> (‘The most notable feature was the lady’s excellent delivery of the contralto solo ‘First vows of love’).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">Amongst her other engagements during 1881 were numbered the performance of Edwin Such’s new cantata <i>Echo and Narcissus</i> (6 July, with Mary Davies, W H Cummings and Duvernoy), repeated appearances at the Crystal Palace, at the Prom concerts at Hengler’s Cirque and at Covent Garden (Cowen’s ‘Never Again’, Pinsuti’s ‘In Shadowland’, ‘Di tanti palpiti’, Gounod’s ‘There is a green hill’, ‘Caller Herrin’, Kuhe’s ‘Forgiven’) and ventures into oratorio in <i>The Messiah</i>with the Royal Society of Musicians and at Manchester, Glasgow and Aberdeen and <i>Solomon</i> with the Dublin Musical Society. When Cowen’s sister launched herself as a reciter at Steinway Hall, she and Aline Osgood provided the musical relief, singing unpublished songs by Cowen (‘The Watcher and the Child’ etc) as well as Brahms and Schubert Lieder.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">In the first half of 1882, things continued in much the same way -- the Saturday Pops, the Crystal Palace (‘Vieni che poi sereno’, ‘Miserere’ by Martini, Gounod’s ‘Vous soupirez’ and ‘Saper vorrei’ with frequent partner, Mrs Hutchinson), the concerts of the faded Mme Puzzi, John Thomas, St Cecilia’s Choir and others) – but in August the announcement came: Miss Hope Glenn was to accompany Madame Cristine Nilsson on her tour of America.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">The vocal part of the Nilsson concert part consisted of its star, Miss Glenn, a Swedish tenor by name of Theodore Bjorskten and the splendid Italian baritone Gouseppe del Puente, and between November 1882 and April 1883, this team toured the United States, from Boston to Chicago to San Francisco, and on to Denver, Topeka, and Omaha; from the Cincinnati Festival to Washignton to New York and its pendant towns and suburbs, performing concerts in which, if Mme Nilsson was the overwhelming star, each artist contributed a couple of items to the evening’s programmes. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">I notice her in one concert performing Pergolesi’s ‘Nina’, Barnby’s ‘When the Tide Comes In’, the Spirit Song and joining her colleagues in the quartet from <i>Cosi fan tutte</i>. In another, the Spring Song was supported by Cowen’s ‘Never Again’. And in a ‘Farewell’ concert at New York’s Steinway Hall (16 April) she contributed Gounod’s ‘The Worker’, Lieder by Schubert and Schumann and joined in the <i>Rigoletto</i> quartet. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">In the shadow of the star, Hattie Glenn won some rather contradictary notices: her native America, in fact, was much tougher on her than Britain, in spite of the fact that she was still tagged as ‘the celebrated American contralto’. San Francisco was complimentary ‘Miss Hope Glenn the young contralto of the company has deservedly become a great favourite. In her I see a successor to Cary…’ In New York, the tenor got rubbished and of the contralto the journo wrote ‘Mme Hope Glenn is more fortunate in respect of voice than Mr Bjorksten but her style is almost as amateurish..’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">When the Nilsson engagement – and a few other side concerts -- were completed, Miss Hope Glenn returned to England, and by 2 June she was back on the platform at the Crystal Palace, with Mrs Hutchinson, billed in ‘her first appearance since America’.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">She did not, however, stay long, and after a fairly desultory run of concerts through the height of the season, she turned back to America, with an engagement to appear at the 26th Worcester (Mass) Festival. There, she sang in the Choral Symphony with Amy Sherwin, Walter Sherwood and C E Hay, and in a selection from <i>Lohengrin </i>with Hauk as Elsa to her Ortrud, and the press reported ‘Minnie Hauk and Hope Glenn who were the favourites of the week received several bouquets and designs in flowers’, and the Worcester press went on at favourable length:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">‘It was said that when Miss Hope Glenn came here with Nilsson last November that she would succeed to the honors held by Annie Louise Cary in the estimation of the public, and we are inclined to the same opinion. Her efforts in the selections assigned her .. were beautiful and highly finished, words being hardly adrquate to describe them. Her contralto voice, extending into the mezzo-soprano register, is rich, full and imbued with genuine pathos. The Glück cavatina was exquisitely sung, and the Cowen ballad was given with a tenderness of expression which made a deep impression on the audience. The enthusiasm was genuine. In answer to the first recall she sang ‘Prithee give me back my heart’ by Blumenthal and to the second ‘The Three Fishers’ in a way which brought tears to many an eye.’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">The <i>Buffalo Courier</i> prided itself ‘The <i>Courier</i> was the first paper to prophesy that Miss Glenn would make a geat reputation .. We heard her first in Paris in 1876, and decided, after a lesson taken from Madame Viardot, that she ha a future before her that would be a succession of triumphs’.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">After the Festival, she stayed to give further concerts in Massachussetts and in November in New York, where she took part in the New York Oratorio Society’s performance of Cowen’s <i>St Ursula</i> and the <i>Walpurgisnacht, </i>and in concerts at the Steinway Hall et al<i>. **** </i>In her final weeks in the country she travelled more widely, and I spot her performing in Omaha and in Detroit.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">At some stage during this visit, she also sang in Iowa City and Jepson tells us ‘</span><span lang="EN-US">Most popular in her repertoire were "The Last Dream". "You'd Better Ask Me", and the Scottish ballad "Caller Herrin". After several encores, to favor the enthusiastic approbation of her audience, she placed "herself in comparison with the great Nilsson" in "Swanee River". "So sweet, so touching is the delicate pathos of the song", wrote one who heard her, "that we imperiously demand that again her labor shall be our pleasure." The Iowa City Republican observed that the character of the audience which greeted her return was best expressed by a thoughtful auditor who said, "if by some chance the Opera House and those who were in it last night had suddenly been blotted out, what would have remained of Iowa City?”. After the concert an informal reception was held at the Glenn home. The house was crowded, yet "without prompting or mistake" she recognized her old friends. For each there was a "cordial word of welcome and a clasp of the hand" from their "Queen of Song". </span><span lang="EN-AU">Tom Jones was there - he who in their younger days in Iowa City had been one of a serenading quartet with George Smith, Hattie, and her sister Addie.’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">Around about this time, Miss Clara Louise Kellogg – a lady who was inclined to speak her fairly intelligent if outspoken mind – giving her views on singing and American singers in particular in the New York Tribune passed judgement in passing: ‘Nilsson who is the very highest type of dramatic power sang alongside of Hope Glenn who has a fine instrument, destitute of magnetic power …’ It could not be denied. But the fine instrument, and a decidedly sympathetic personality and mode of expression, could and did go a long way to making a satisfactory career.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">Back in Britain in March 1884, Miss Hope Glenn began once again the concert rounds, and made her re-entry to London singing Ineth in <i>St Ursula</i> at the Prince’s Hall, Piccadilly (8 May 1884). She sang in a number of London and provincial concerts in May and June, and when Nilsson arrived in town, she appeared alongside the celebrated soprano – ‘she is a friend and protégée of the great singer’ Brander Matthews confided at some stage – in her concert in July, at George Watts’ concerts at the Albert Hall, in <i>The Messiah</i>, with Rigby and Foli, and at St James’s Hall, in the 1885 Balfe Memorial Concert, and thereafter on regular occasions for several years.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">Hattie Glenn was establishing herself slowly but surely amongst the concert contraltos of Britain. ‘She merits special praise for the artistic manner in which she rendered an air of Handel’ reported the press when she appeared at :ujza Liebhart’s concert at St James’s Hall (9 July 1885), as she went on to be heard in <i>Judas Maccabeus</i> at the Albert Hall, as the Wicked Fairy in Cowen’s <i>The Sleeping Beauty</i> and in Gounod’s <i>Mors et vita</i> at the Crystal Palace, in <i>Elijah</i> at Manchester and in the Novello Oratorio Concerts in Dvorak’s <i>Saint Ludmilla</i> (29 October 1886), as well as in concerts both in London – the Monday and Saturday pops, Sims Reeves’ series, the Crystal Palace concerts – and throughout Britain.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">She found particular acceptance in Ireland, where she sang in 1886 in the Albani Concerts at Dublin’s Leinster Hall and with the Belfast Philharmonic Society. ‘We hope to hear her many more times in Dublin’ wrote the local press after her delivery of Beethoven’s ‘Creations Hymn’ E Birch’s ‘Toil and Rest’ her favourite Glück, ‘Vieni che poi sereno’, The journey is long by Whitney Coombe and the oligatory ‘The Minstrel Boy’. Belfast enthused over her ‘cultured and powerful voice’ going on ‘we have rarely heard a contralto of a more exquisite quality … and the fact that its quality is the same at all ranges is particularly noteworthy .. Miss Hope Glenn’s upper notes are particularly sweet and the richness of her lower register is never hard … A more sympathetic voice we have never heard .. she has a brilliant career before her..’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">Indeed, so it seemed. For Miss Glenn was clearly on a rising curve.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">‘Most acceptable’ nodded the local press after her perfomance of <i>The Messiah</i> with the Huddersfield Choral Society, praising jer ‘depth of feeling and pathos’, ‘[she was] particularly successful in the dramatic music of Jezebel and hardly less so in the two songs ‘Woe unto them’ and ‘O Rest in the Lord’ wrote Liverpool after her <i>Elijah</i> a fortnight later with the local Phiharmonic Society, which she followed up with an appearance in the Halle Concerts (‘She never told her love’, ‘Entreat me not to leave thee’, ‘Awake Saturnia’), ‘She was more than equal to the contralto music’ wrote the London press after <i>The Golden Legend</i> at the Albert Hall, and <i>The Era</i> praised her <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">‘rich tone and excellent expression’, but there were some complaints. Or, really, once only. She was not Janet Patey, and now that she had reached the level just behind Britain’s unquestioned number one contralto, when she sang on major occasions, ones where Patey was perhaps awaited, the comparison was now made with boring regularity. And the answer was always the same: she was not Mme Patey, but…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">Such considerations, however, were not relevant when she visited Belfast again for The Sleeping Beauty<i>, </i>reappeared at the Monday Pops, or gave the contralto music in <i>Elijah</i> at Oxford, in <i>The Golden Legend</i> at Bath, or in concert at the Albert Hall, the Crystal Palace or Grosvenor House… alongside Mme Patey.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">On 7 September 1887, Miss Hope Glenn began her most prestigious engagement to date, as principal contralto, seconded by Miss Eleanor Rees, at the Three Choirs Festival as Worcester. Anna Williams and Albani were the sopranos, Lloyd and McGuckin the tenors, Watkin Mills and W H Brereton the basses, and the scheduled was a heavy one. During the four days of the Festival, Hattie Glenn sang Ursula in <i>The Golden Legend, The Last Judgement, Elijah, </i>Gounod’s <i>Redempetion, </i>a share in <i>The Messiah</i> and above all, created the role of Naomi in Cowen’s new oratorio <i>Ruth, </i>alongside Albani, Williams, Lloyd, McGuckin and Mills<i>. </i>The English press found although she was ‘slightly over weighted by her more powerful colleagues she displayed high artistic qualities as Naomi’, but the correspondent of the <i>New York Times</i>, miffed that she was not Patey, hissed at her as ‘a third rate artist’.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">Nobody took much notice of the <i>New York Times</i>, or the handful opf others who blamed the singer for not being Patey, as she travelled on to the Cheltenham Festival (<i>Elijah, Golden Legend</i>), to Birkenhead and the Crystal Palace, to another series of Albani concerts in Ireland (‘Spirit Song’ Cotsford Dick’s ‘The Vision Beautiful’, ‘Entreat me not to leave thee’) and to the first representation, at the Npvello Concerts, of <i>Ruth</i> in London (1 December 1887).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">A week later, Miss Hope Glenn, made a first appearance with the Sacred Harmonic Society, doyen of Britain’s religious music Societies, singing alongside Anna Williams, Edward Lloyd and Bantock Pierpont in <i>The Golden Legend. </i>The following year she would return to sing her original role in <i>Ruth</i> with the same society.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">During 1888, Miss Glenn appeared in further performances of <i>Ruth</i> as well as in Jacob Bradford’s new <i>Ruth</i>, given at the London Symphony Concerts 28 February at St James’s Hall, and Mackenzie’s <i>The Rose of Sharon</i> in the Novello series, but – her reputation now considerably increased – she accepted an invitation to return to the Massachusetts Worcester Festival.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">From 28 September, she sang at Worcester in oratorio and concert (‘Fiori’s ‘In questa orrida torre’, ‘Entreat me not to leave tee’ &v) alongside Emma Juch, Mme Valda, M W Whitney and Max Alvary, after which – following some concert engagements -- she took to the road in the Redpath Lyceum Concert Company, in tandem with Miss Juch.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">On 19 December 1888, Miss Hope Glenn returned to Britain, and it was there that she would make the best years and the last years of her career.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">Most of the first half of 1889, she spent singing in the principal provincial towns of Britain – <i>The Golden Legend</i> at Sunderland, in concert at Birmingham Town Hall (‘the eminent American contralto’, Handel’s ‘Pupille sdegnose’, The Erl King, Arme’s ‘Gentle Youth’, Schumann’s ‘An den Sonnenschein’) and at Manchester’s Free Trade Hall, in Liverpool in <i>Ruth</i>. When she sang ‘Creation’s Hymn’ Borhc’s ‘Angel Face’ and ‘Jock o’ Hazeldean’, now her preferred encore, in the Middlesborough ballad concerts the press hailed ‘one of the purest contraltos it has ever been our pleasure to listen to’.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">On 16 May 1889, Hattie Glenn fulfilled another kind of engagement. At the Reverend Frazer’s Scotch Church, Upper George Street, Marylebone she was married to one Richard Augustine Heard, an ex-Harvard man, reputed to be of ‘one of the best families in Boston’. Mr Heard had been the musical director and pianist for the tour of the Redpath Lyceum group, but he was not a dedicated musician. He switched from music to journalism, and then to ‘finance’ when he became connected with Major Francisco Ignacio Ricardo-Seaver FRSE ‘of London and Paris’, a gentleman who, it suffices to say, was – amongst other colourful enterprises -- in his turn connected with the infamous Barnato Brothers of South Africa. Sir Arthur Sullivan gave the bride away, Ernest Birch the songwriter was best man, and Nordica, Hilda Wilson, Jack Robertson and Plunkett Greene sang the anthems of the wedding service.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">‘Madame Hope Glenn will not retire at her marriage’ wrote the newspapers, and sure enough, after a Parisian honeymoon, Hattie was quickly back in harness. In the autumn she sang at the Covent Garden and Crystal Palace proms, she voyaged to the north for ballad concerts (‘The three fishers’, ‘Angel Faces’, ‘Jock o’Hazeldean, ‘Doon the burn, Davie lad’) and the Glasgow Saturday concerts, to Wolverhampton to sing Macfarren’s <i>The Lady of the Lake</i> and to Birmingham, where one more critic had a go at the size of her voice: ‘she is always artistic and always earnest but her voice lacks the weight for the due effect of Beethoven’s grandiose version of Creations Hymn’. Ireland begged to differ: ‘she has lost nothing of her power and brilliance since [her] last [visit]..’ wrote the Belfast critic of her ‘Silence and Sorrow’ (<i>Armida</i>) and ‘The River of Rest’ (Denza). Huddersfield, too, admired her <i>The Martyr of Antioch</i> and Liverpool her <i>Elijah</i> (‘no better interpretation of the contralto music could be desired’), as she moved on to more Crystal Palace Proms, to concerts with John Thomas and the American soprano Isadora Martinez, at Llandudno at Riviere’s concerts, at Buxton with Edward Lloyd…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">Come the Festival season, Madame Glenn was engaged at Bristol, where she shared the contralto duties with Hilda Wilson, singing <i>Elijah</i> (‘impressively devotional’), <i>The Golden Legend, </i>and <i>Redemption </i>alongside Abani, Lloyd, Iver McKay and Watkin Mills and subjected, as always where Festivals were concerned, to the inevitable comparison. There were of course, different ways of putting it: ‘an exceedingly capable follower of Mme Patey’ rang better than ‘her pure contralto voice’ though not so full and rich as Madame Patey’s’ was most acceptable’.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">From Bristol, she again went on to the Cheltenham Festival for <i>The Creation</i> and the Dvorak <i>Stabat Mater</i>, and then to Liverpool for a performance of <i>Theodora</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">Through later 1890 and much of 1891 Madame Glenn supplemented her usual London engagements with more substantial provincial dates – at Halifax, at Bradford (Cowen’s ‘Children’s Dreams’, ‘The Green Trees Whispered’, ‘Doon the burn, Davie lad’ ‘all given in the most artistic taste’), Middlesborough (‘Silence and Sorrow’), Cardiff with Plunkett Greene, at Birmingham with Fanny Moody and Lloyd (‘Lord to thee each night and day’, ‘Di tanti palpiti’, Birch’s ‘Harvest Time’) where she ‘charmed everyone with the beauty of her voice and the finish of her singing’ and at Manchester’s St James’s Hall.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">Then, on 6 October 1891, she made a first appearance at the Brimingham Festival, again sharing the principal contralto duties with Hilda Wilson (‘the tall figure of Madame Hope Glenn, in a pale turquoise blue costume…). She sang <i>Elijah</i>and <i>The Messiah</i> in her ‘beautiful if not powerful voice’ and the haughty Festival critics admitted ‘Her style still lacks the breadth required for the due effect of Handel’s music but Madame Glenn’s advance as an oratorio singer in unquestionable’.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">The event of this festival, however, was the creation of Stanford’s new oratorio <i>Eden </i>in which Madame Glenn was cast alongside Anna Williams (depping for Albani), Lloyd, McKay and Mills<i>. </i>‘[She] had not much to do but, as the Angel of Visible Beauty, she was fitted vocally and otherwise to a nicety and her beautiful voice was heard to great advantage in the solo ‘A voice spake also to me’’.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">On 18 November 1891 she repeated <i>Eden</i> in its first London hearing at the Albert Hall.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">To Huddersfield and to Manchester for festive season <i>Messiahs, </i>back to London in the new year for the London Symphony Concerts, the Crystal Palace as ever (‘Ah rendimi quel cor’, Brahms’s ‘Wie bist du mein Konigin’), to Liverpool for the Dvorak <i>Stabat Mater …<o:p></o:p></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">But suddenly Madame Glenn was being seen very much less on the public platform. She visited Ireland again (‘Rory Darlin’ by Hope Temple, Allitsen’s My Laddie ‘The Old Folks at Home’ ‘Cauld Blast’), sang in the national concerts at the St James’s Hall and visited Liverpool for an <i>Elijah, </i>and in 1893 did a series of concerts for the Birmingham firm of Harrison, before taking in a third Cheltenham Festival yet again with Hilda Wilson (<i>Stabat Mater, Lobgesang, The Messiah, The Golden Legend</i>). The following year, she also returned to the Birmingham Festival, but seems to have left the bulk of the performances to Miss Wilson. This time the press allowed that ‘in spite of the tradition of Miss Dolby and Mme Patey’ <i>Elijah</i> had been ‘admirably sung by both ladies’.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">Madame Glenn, who had bid fair just a couple of seasons back to become a regular at the major music festivals never sang at another.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">When she appeared in a Monday pop concrert in March of 1895, singing ‘She never told her love’ and songs by FEdinand Ries and Schumann, the press referred to her ‘very artistic style and a most welcome lack of affectation’ and referred to the occasion as ‘one of her too rare appearances’. <i>The Pall Mall Gazette</i> however sniffed that she had ‘all manner of vocal problems to solve’ before she could sing Schumann. Which she had been doing for years.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">The same month it was announced that Madame Glenn had taken up a prfessorship in solo singing at Trinity College of Music.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">In fact, she continued to make occasional appearances at the Crystal Palace, in the national concerts at St James’s Hall and in the odd charity concert through till the end of 1898, but then she sang no more.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">It was evident that something had gone peculiarly wrong.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">Jepsen tells us what it was:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">‘Her marriage … did not prove to be happy. Deserted after some years, she was thrown upon her own resources for support. Her concert days were over. In middle age she began maintaining herself by teaching music. "Addie told me", said a friend, "that Hope's separation from her husband seemed to have killed her aspiration for the career she had planned. This was, of course, a great disappointment to all her family who had done so much to aid her preparation for that career."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">From her home in London. Hope occasionally came to the United States to visit her sisters and brother who for the sake of their father's health had moved to Atlanta, Georgia. There Adelaide and Carrie had purchased a row of apartment houses which they rented to single men only. The called them the "Pickwick Apartments" after the Pickwick Club in Dickens's novel. But when the World War began, many of the Pickwickians enlisted and left the apartments vacant. Then married soldiers, seeking a place for their wives, applied at the Glenn apartments. And so the make seclusion was invaded. Presently a floor was devoted to married couples, and with them came the inevitable babies. The Pickwick Apartments became a anomaly.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">At Atlanta, Hope Glenn liked to sit under the orange trees and pick the blossoms, which she would wind in wreathes about her head, and eat the fruit till she was satisfied. But eventually she always returned to London where her sister sent her money for support, since she was no longer singing.’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">Richard Heard went back to America where he died in Erie, Pa 19 July 1914 ‘of acute diabetes’. Carrie and Addie Glenn, who had evidently done well enough out of their real estate, passed on in 1921 and 1923. ‘</span><span lang="EN-US">The estate was divided between Hope and her brother in Oakland, California’ says Jepsen. So presumably for the last few years of her life Hattie Glenn did not live in want.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">Miss Hope Glenn was not, as everyone insisted on telling her, either Charlotte Dolby or Janet Patey. But it seems evident that, as a ballad and oratorio singer, she was definitely a part of the second peloton of contralto vocalists of the Victorian era, and had she not run down her career, before the fortieth year of her age, just at the time where she seemed to be becoming a regular of the Festival and oratorio circuits, her professional history might not only have been longer but also a little more glorious.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU">‘All on account of a man…’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 16pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-AU"> </span></p>GEROLSTEINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08446253124724430879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8935297705846111801.post-12770841943547851222024-01-30T11:54:00.000-08:002024-02-03T14:37:25.327-08:00Jules de Soria: Glorioli of Victorian Vocalists<p><br /></p><p>E Bay turned up this splendid photo today, so I thought it was a nudge to preserve it here, along with the story of the man judged one of the greatest baritone singers of his era.</p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj0yWMgDYZGX10OUmgCZ9Ze51Hhnqgn462_M2hbO1Q6RCXMLeOfyNhnL0kCvhpnowmX_pZ8scZtBWoi8qA7hlvFDZVd2Ax4uW-W1669Wbl21iubQPaJVFa_LM6KGUjfkDXvKIWKuzxYxhIsXqw76yWNqfdfYTIy9sxz3ClNvCPkx3sn2Gzt7KL30-vQcI/s1200/Soria.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="705" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj0yWMgDYZGX10OUmgCZ9Ze51Hhnqgn462_M2hbO1Q6RCXMLeOfyNhnL0kCvhpnowmX_pZ8scZtBWoi8qA7hlvFDZVd2Ax4uW-W1669Wbl21iubQPaJVFa_LM6KGUjfkDXvKIWKuzxYxhIsXqw76yWNqfdfYTIy9sxz3ClNvCPkx3sn2Gzt7KL30-vQcI/w376-h640/Soria.jpg" width="376" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBxsraNy0ht9FXqr5YkX8CU13fIFLOiath3UdFU_MZKLrjAuwVQB5wT6tKiH1m-YkbpLqpQ8afcs5QPfakTdHj-SBlDc2blUuyh4G4zoyy4vUn_on_3lsydtJHcF5cqhl2Fgccwvpdib6148HBLnh0a5u866d9qFOIQBmYfPQNCYbFb3ydmi3IlR8XNAQ/s1200/Soria%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="707" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBxsraNy0ht9FXqr5YkX8CU13fIFLOiath3UdFU_MZKLrjAuwVQB5wT6tKiH1m-YkbpLqpQ8afcs5QPfakTdHj-SBlDc2blUuyh4G4zoyy4vUn_on_3lsydtJHcF5cqhl2Fgccwvpdib6148HBLnh0a5u866d9qFOIQBmYfPQNCYbFb3ydmi3IlR8XNAQ/w236-h400/Soria%202.jpg" width="236" /></a></div></div><br /><p><b style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span lang="EN-US">DIAZ DE SORIA, [Mardochée] Jules</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> (b Bordeaux, 28 April 1843; d 13 rue de la Tremoille, Paris, 15 May 1919)</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Jules de Soria is one of the more remarkable characters of the Victorian musical era. He sang all over Europe – though principally in France and Britain – for two decades and more, was acclaimed as one of the outstanding vocalists of the age, and yet to the general public he was little more than a name. For de Soria sang largely in the private homes of the aristocratic, the social and the wealthy, and only a handful of times per season, usually for colleagues or for charity, did he venture into the public arena.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Born into an orthodox Jewish family, with a grandfather who had been in charge of Bordeaux’s synagogue music, Jules began his working life in the wine trade, while fulfilling his musical tastes by singing, from a young age, in the <span style="color: #1a1a1a;">Concerts du Cercle philharmonique de Bordeaux. I spot him there in December 1868, in a concert featuring Mme Miolan-Carvalho. M de Soria joins the star in the duet from <i>Hamlet</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">It was three years more before the striking, young amateur musician moved out from his home town. In January 1872, <i>Le Ménestral</i> noted: ‘</span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1a1a1a;">Un amateur de Bordeaux, M. Soria, doué d'une admirable voix, et chantant en artiste, était venu assister le Cercle des Beaux-Arts de Nantes ...’. In February, I spot him in Seligmann’s Patriotic Concert in Nice. </span><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Before long he was launched on the salons of Paris. Starting, it seems, with the <span style="color: #353733;">Comtesse de Frégain’s soirée, where the handsome dark young man with the superlative light and high baritone voice was lauded: ‘un de ces êtres privilégiés envers qui la nature a été prodigue de ses dons. M. Jules Diaz de Soria, c'est ainsi qu'on le nomme, a une voix de baryton d'une grande étendue, d'un charme dans la demi-teinte, d'une ampleur, d'une richesse de timbre, d'une puissance admirables dans les effets de force …’<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #353733;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #353733;">He made his first appearance in London on 7 July 1872 at the concert of pianist Mme Viguier, at Dover House. He had become attached to the Gounod-group, and he sang the composer’s work, and a song by Fauré, each accompanied by its writer. </span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1a1a1a;">‘Quant à M. Jules de Soria, dont <i>Le Ménestrel</i> a déjà parlé, c'est là un amateur, grand artiste à tous les points de vue. Quelle voix, quelle méthode, quel charme! Il interprète Gounod en maître et voici qu'il vient de s'éprendre pour les melodies de Fauré ..’ reported back the paper’s correspondent. In London, when he appeared for Jules Daniel, a few days later, the press reported ‘The musical ability and fine voice of an amateur baritone, M de Soria, have long been a theme of admiration in private circles … [he] made an extraordinary effect, rousing an apathetic audience to something like enthusiasm … he has a fine future before him if he chooses to work’.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #353733;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #353733;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #353733;">But M Diaz de Soria was not launched on a public career. While music writers on both sides of the channel rhapsodized over his singing – and the English didn’t hesitate to call him the equal of Santley -- he remained an amateur, appearing almost exclusively in private homes, with the music of Gounod, Faure, Schubert, Félicien David and such pieces as Baronne Willy de Rothschild’s songs, or a song written by Marie Antoinette. Or even Virginia Gabriel (‘Il est partout’).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #353733;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #353733;">In London, he sang in public for Arditi (2 July 1873, ‘his only appearance in public this season’), or Nita Gaetano, for French charities and at the French Embassy, for Benedict or Tito Mattei, and latterly for Mme Gayrard-Pacini, and the press praised </span><span lang="EN-US">’so fine a baritone voice, and has withal so excellent a method of employing it ..’ the ‘extraordinary effect’ he produced by his singing, and his tidily understated performance of Faure ‘a model of what concert singing should be’. When a singer was sought for Prince Poniatowski’s funeral (8 July 1873), it was Jules Diaz de Soria who sang Stradella’s ‘Per pietà’.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">In Paris … <span style="color: #353733;">‘A peine arrive a Paris, M Diaz de Soria est déjà de toutes nos soirées ..’ the press recorded, reporting on a concert chez Mme Heine of la rue de Monceau, where he performed the <i>Hamlet</i> duet with Mlle Devriès and joined Gustave Nadaud in his new duo ‘Causons de nos amours passées’ which was soon ‘de toutes les fêtes musicales’. A couple of days later it was the public concert of M and Mme Viguier … in March he and Faure were the star attraction chez M and Mme Garfounckel alongside Carlotta Patti, at M and Mme Trélat’s soirée he sang <i>St Paul </i>and Gordigiani’s ‘Prière à la Madone’, at the Présidence, at the Palais de Versailles, he gave Jules Cohen’s, ‘L’Invito’ and his <i>St Paul</i>air, the Gordigiani, Faure’s ‘Les Rameaux’, and several Nadauds, for Mme la Maréchal de MacMahon, then for the academician Legouvé (Vaucorbeil’s ‘La Voile qui passe’, “La Ballade serbe’, Faure’s ‘Le Pressoir’ his Nadaud and the <i>Zauberflöte </i>duet with Mme Régnier-Escalier) for the Comtesse de Chambrun, Mme Erard at the Château de la Muette (Faure’s ‘Bonjour, Suzon’) ... <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">And it was the same elsewhere in Europe. In 1873, he was heard at Spa in 1874 he toured with Marie Marimon in a Bernard Ullmann concert party (Havre, Rouen, Salle Brancas at Nantes, Angers, Tours, Bordeaux). In 1875, the French papers reported his visit to Vienna: ‘<span style="color: #353733;">Le baryton charmeur, J Diaz de Soria, qui, les deux dernières saisons à Londres, avait révolutionné le high-life anglais, vient de renouveler ses brillants exploits dans la capitale de l'Autriche’. Vienna, which had announced him as ‘ein Spanische Romanzensänger’ greeted his appearance, 20 November 1875, with amazement: ‘eine Sensation, um so grössere Sensation als niemand ein Ahnung von dem Genusse hatte ..’ He sang a folk song, a Faure song, ‘La Mandolinata’ and a piece of Rubinstein’s <i>Die Maccabär … </i>in his ‘wunderbar ergreifender Stimme’, and another corner of Europe fell before him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #353733;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #353733;">I also spot him at Dieppe with Adelina Patti at a Farewell (her) concert priced at 20 francs a ticket.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #353733;">The next year, it was Greece: </span><span lang="EN-US">‘Jules Diaz de Soria, le prince des barytons ténorisants, est à Athènes où les compatriotes de Periclès et d'Alcibiade l'accueillent comme un nouvel </span>Orphée. Il a chanté à l'Odéon, le vendredi 9 janvier, ‘Les Rameaux’ de Faure, la ‘Sanctissima Vergine’ de Gordigiani, et ‘la Mandolinata’ de Paladilhe. ‘Rien ne saurait donner une idée de l'accueil fait à M. de Soria’, dit <i>le Messager d'Athènes</i>. L'enthousiasme des spectateurs se révélait sous toutes les formes. Un mot d'un de nos confrères nous a surtout frappé. “Maintenant, disait-il, on ne pourra plus entendre avec plaisir les autres chanteurs”, Quelques jours après ce triomphe public, M. de Soria s'est fait entendre à la cour, où il fait une telle impression, que le roi l'a décoré de sa main.’</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #353733;">The takings went to the local school of music: they’d been selling tickets at up to 100 francs apiece. The school showered him with honours.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #353733;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #353733;">On the way home to Bordeaux, he stopped off at Monaco for a charity gala at the Casino and it was the same again: </span><span lang="EN-US">‘Diaz de Soria est toujours le charmeur que l'on sait ; il a littéralement enthousiasmé la salle. Quatre morceaux figuraient au programme; il a dû en chanter sept : ‘Morir per te’, ‘Les Fleurs du matin’, et ‘Alléluia d'Amour’, de J Faure ; une délicieuse mélodie de Corticelli, une autre de Campana, une de Schumann, L'air de la Coupe du Roi de Thulé ; enfin on l'eût fait chanter toute la nuit. Quel merveilleux talent, quelle souplesse de voix il a déployés dans ces œuvres diverses, les unes réclamant l'ampleur et l'énergie, les autres toute la délicatesse des effets de mezza voce. Le grand chanteur s'est surpassé. Bravos, bis, rappels, couronne, rien ne lui a manqué.’</span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #353733;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">And that was the story of M Diaz de Soria’s career as a vocalist. Each year, he fulfilled a season of aristocratic soirées, and a few public concerts, in Paris and in London, popularizing the work of Faure, in particular, widely. He sang at Dudley House, Marlborough House, Balmoral, Craig-y-nos, he duetted with Albani, Marimon and with Patti, he was a guest in the great houses of the two lands, he was painted by Alma Tadema and Numa Blanc fils, had songs dedicated to him by Faure, Massenet, Lalo, Tosti et al…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">‘He sang but little and only to limited audiences in houses where he was sure of the right appreciation…’ wrote an obituarist, describing ‘De Soria’s voice was not large, but few singers have ever so completely mastered diction and modulation…’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Which is what had so completely won everyone over from the start.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Jules died in 1919. By then, there weren’t many folk left who remembered the fine young man with the wonderful voice. But his friend, Gerald du Maurier, won him some notice. The character of the singer, Glorioli, in <i>Trilby</i> was a portrait of Diaz de Soria. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">And in France? Jules had married Marie Lucie Indiana Latargerie, and their daughter Rachel (or Isabelle Berthe) had married Elie Alphonse Frank. In 1919, Frank was running two important Paris theatres. Jules was now referred to as ‘the father in law of…’: even as far afield as in <i>Variety</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> PS a piece of de Soria ephemera found on ebay.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXNKMS-NYvQbxh_CVZgm1egNs857ne9SkWyMG8M1MXnWTl4P7i6hIFWm__bIaGfU9-D-mxDqP47lZ5O9wTv28PjauGryyf2-56MxoTnHwr21OhW0VwwRzbQyFroA_I5WDNf6Puxsvxa5l5bJSOpzzclZJqo-18M2j4xPi9Mo5wQ4syZtpY39yA7zz0aTc/s1600/s-l1600-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXNKMS-NYvQbxh_CVZgm1egNs857ne9SkWyMG8M1MXnWTl4P7i6hIFWm__bIaGfU9-D-mxDqP47lZ5O9wTv28PjauGryyf2-56MxoTnHwr21OhW0VwwRzbQyFroA_I5WDNf6Puxsvxa5l5bJSOpzzclZJqo-18M2j4xPi9Mo5wQ4syZtpY39yA7zz0aTc/w400-h300/s-l1600-4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXoM-NdYVsiBeEhTSHfUEnAtvdKeqIFuI6JzTiimLwSNaRpdDIMdYz6bToR8YVTwPXSrmvjGyE5svupq48EOk-bIBfDtzE2dHzF0gifFJZ9YDb959ic2P5fXT5loC5efmZbh9hDEOgGBGt7uqegRf9nc66sq6WI7E29a0XqkFL-iGzkYgulVOXPeQN_XE/s1600/s-l1600-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXoM-NdYVsiBeEhTSHfUEnAtvdKeqIFuI6JzTiimLwSNaRpdDIMdYz6bToR8YVTwPXSrmvjGyE5svupq48EOk-bIBfDtzE2dHzF0gifFJZ9YDb959ic2P5fXT5loC5efmZbh9hDEOgGBGt7uqegRf9nc66sq6WI7E29a0XqkFL-iGzkYgulVOXPeQN_XE/w480-h640/s-l1600-5.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /></p>Well, I couldn't sing after that lot!<br /><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #353733;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #353733;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #353733;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #353733;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span> </p>GEROLSTEINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08446253124724430879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8935297705846111801.post-39404934345822817092024-01-27T13:10:00.000-08:002024-02-02T21:02:24.872-08:00Sunshine, storms, singing and sex at sea: 1973-4-5<p> </p><p>There is a vague chance that my family history and its papers and photos may be 'accessed' into the archive of the NZ National Library. So I have been sorting out the 25 volumes of international photo albums and diaries ... and my ancient letters and scrapbooks ... and finding all sorts of forgotten things.</p><p>Some, should, perhaps, not really be preserved for posterity. </p><p>But why not ...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixXbshqTB1e94eUFbvi78CzA78kDahUWUn_X7u-wvGFcuZ-7pfP0FmqZeps6G0GGGm6Gl9c7yljvrqrxWKTUrQYMY_nnTJsOmFL536p1WwrPhgSPx_rat-rXHOWc4hVfBLmTbjY7LeWdiSH9afxXsBEhMf6XuhHlleyVT9T3C4xqin8YNHj_1wX7nF15Q/s6240/*Northern%20Star*.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4008" data-original-width="6240" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixXbshqTB1e94eUFbvi78CzA78kDahUWUn_X7u-wvGFcuZ-7pfP0FmqZeps6G0GGGm6Gl9c7yljvrqrxWKTUrQYMY_nnTJsOmFL536p1WwrPhgSPx_rat-rXHOWc4hVfBLmTbjY7LeWdiSH9afxXsBEhMf6XuhHlleyVT9T3C4xqin8YNHj_1wX7nF15Q/w427-h275/*Northern%20Star*.JPG" width="427" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge6m1dsjSi0toxxe8H9a2kil1h60lyOseb0aO6vgOjX8lRoEaHrIU7YUqsWNe3qfvcihPsMnfmllTxv_bj55yyPQk-Qm8T-Ovb3WvNwxdkWaxKulIq14KHmyiKULC8LPAfJ2UXy7wcO0Nf3VG7vOZRg1xFoHqMBYC7eBwlu2I7rSyvCBJOB3Gnpkxa83Y/s3312/star74.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3312" data-original-width="1990" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge6m1dsjSi0toxxe8H9a2kil1h60lyOseb0aO6vgOjX8lRoEaHrIU7YUqsWNe3qfvcihPsMnfmllTxv_bj55yyPQk-Qm8T-Ovb3WvNwxdkWaxKulIq14KHmyiKULC8LPAfJ2UXy7wcO0Nf3VG7vOZRg1xFoHqMBYC7eBwlu2I7rSyvCBJOB3Gnpkxa83Y/w384-h640/star74.jpeg" width="384" /></a></div><br /><br /><div>In the early 1970s, due to a combination of circumstances, I went to sea on the beautiful SS <i>Northern Star,</i> as an entertainer. The couple of seaborne years that followed were some of the most enjoyable years of my young life. I was seasick before the ship left Portsmouth, bonked the purser on Night One, and lived in a cabin in the bowels of the ship (no window) with Andy Betts and 'Polly' Pullman, where I had a curtain installed for privacy, just occasionally needed when a gentleman caller came by ... sang to my heart's content, saw the world and got paid (although not very much!) for it ...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfXw54uiscCmOQk2L4wt_JnOizjjT9b48lQM2nFBlGy6RPtoldX7k2lFIYACrcB-jvVXRIHWjU759aBPiKXvH_AWT02jByhmcsAHxAwv8bBwp3RQIWrK1HTqvXtpfWjNPoRvPqK_JqJvuZanQs5NEfu-RHMhSy1ny7gJuprPxdiMOggB90djJt9maFf2c/s2282/old%20star.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1392" data-original-width="2282" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfXw54uiscCmOQk2L4wt_JnOizjjT9b48lQM2nFBlGy6RPtoldX7k2lFIYACrcB-jvVXRIHWjU759aBPiKXvH_AWT02jByhmcsAHxAwv8bBwp3RQIWrK1HTqvXtpfWjNPoRvPqK_JqJvuZanQs5NEfu-RHMhSy1ny7gJuprPxdiMOggB90djJt9maFf2c/w463-h283/old%20star.jpeg" width="463" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>Season two, we had (alas!) a different purser, a very, very much more accomplished company of performers, and, since our shows had become a Feature of the Shaw Saville line cruises, much better accomodation. A beautiful young lead soprano from the Guildhall, dancers from the Royal Ballet School et al, and performers from J C Williamson shows, me from NZ Opera and a brilliant baritone, Glanville Evans, from Welsh Wales, with whom I shared a cabin (<i>with</i> a porthole!), and of whom I was truly very fond. Hearing him sing 'The Olive Tree' was a West-End-worthy treat. He was the best cabin-mate I could have wished for. He later became an agent in his native Wales, and I, by that time a caster, tried to give his clients every chance.</p><p>Oh. And I was introduced to the joys of heterosexuality. Well, Daddy wasn't around, this time, to say 'not till you're married!' Enter my life, Alison Temple Savage. Oh Lord. The moustache! My attempts to look older. I was 27-8, playing age 19. Ali was 20. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP2E0StkgI2kDc78o_WN-FRj732tF0gc0mMuravBBPnwVVi8XK0cQ4I6CYKODfR-6NDuvWnHg6lbjtXN1EeTxnwNsRs6Gvk-OoawAucwpPRYgAgPx171hTBkbhNk-f6ELXjjIHqlgpef2Six74gGlrWTAepL8ukLX8jGWQuPOOPyTXDhx1yZTNZqdbkmo/s2032/ali%20&%20kurt.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1297" data-original-width="2032" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP2E0StkgI2kDc78o_WN-FRj732tF0gc0mMuravBBPnwVVi8XK0cQ4I6CYKODfR-6NDuvWnHg6lbjtXN1EeTxnwNsRs6Gvk-OoawAucwpPRYgAgPx171hTBkbhNk-f6ELXjjIHqlgpef2Six74gGlrWTAepL8ukLX8jGWQuPOOPyTXDhx1yZTNZqdbkmo/w431-h275/ali%20&%20kurt.jpg" width="431" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>Anyway, we all became a glorious group of comrades ... and lived on and off ship-life to the full ... but sometimes, when I wasn't bullying beefy Aussie footballers into fitness and suppleness with a mixture of Dad's gymnastic exercises and ballet training, or rehearsing (every afternoon), or performing (twice nightly) ... I gave in to my old habit of writing. Occasional doggerel. </p><p>Every new cruise began with The Captain's Cocktail Party. Or several. I suppose the invitees were the payingest customers. But we, the 'Entertainers', were the decoration. How surprised some trippers were to find that they were talking to an MA (Hons) classics graduate! Anyway, one evening, after a particularly naff Cocktail do, Ali and I went downstairs and I penned this doggerel for our amusement ...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdgGOAErEkTlrPPLwK-gGSooyK5v5_TftPLTbR45T7wSEnACqN64m7MyZ3JboHNOsv-z_Hz95ZarVcmPq-zwwsKcd86skU2XFyLe-mUB8YSEGi8e_4pmshHHP6WxyZb2DhETRa8JbZzIhJ6Pcwh80puehDdlgpkdUWjW0S59-wJaEWh32jdZime4LrLdU/s4669/cocktail.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4669" data-original-width="3209" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdgGOAErEkTlrPPLwK-gGSooyK5v5_TftPLTbR45T7wSEnACqN64m7MyZ3JboHNOsv-z_Hz95ZarVcmPq-zwwsKcd86skU2XFyLe-mUB8YSEGi8e_4pmshHHP6WxyZb2DhETRa8JbZzIhJ6Pcwh80puehDdlgpkdUWjW0S59-wJaEWh32jdZime4LrLdU/w275-h400/cocktail.jpeg" width="275" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Oh damn Blogger ... </p><p>We all had a good giggle and the other girls said 'oh! do one for me', so I did. And somehow they've (or some of them) survived ... </p><p>This was for the lovely Sarah Lowe of talents worthy of ... but, hey, why were we all working on a cruise liner ...?</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS0k9daquWd5Tnas4f6mKq7RWeOB5xCEDcsFsvDGtsfUY1HQCgWyUaa1g-0IL4dnvPwLhMFSlEP2j_HFPfTlJvAkSJZOMWNBG1dk09xX965tHnXgrMcNOQK-E0PT7N_zDrX6eG0va-FEOuVyD9VwKkbta5mCYOBgLiE29yVR6GJs4PIw-m6i-2x49WFko/s4669/jetee.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4669" data-original-width="3209" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS0k9daquWd5Tnas4f6mKq7RWeOB5xCEDcsFsvDGtsfUY1HQCgWyUaa1g-0IL4dnvPwLhMFSlEP2j_HFPfTlJvAkSJZOMWNBG1dk09xX965tHnXgrMcNOQK-E0PT7N_zDrX6eG0va-FEOuVyD9VwKkbta5mCYOBgLiE29yVR6GJs4PIw-m6i-2x49WFko/w275-h400/jetee.jpeg" width="275" /></a></div><br /><p>Why won't this bloody thing revolve? (Apparently if you swipe them to desktop they can be put right way up).</p><p>OK. I, as I have said, took the men's fitness class (Ali took the rather less strenuous women's equivalent). 9 am upper deck. Make the overweight, non-agile footy players SWEAT for six weeks! (They had their revenge, I was chucked in the ship's pool). And downstairs, our lead dancer, Barry Collins, and the delicious Joan Golden, took the 'Brush up your dancing' class ... the poor, poor dears! But it was in the contract!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoQVR2ZgXlxAdGcGhlGgz93fe3DFzoqp0nDMlr1Kqh070oALBYdRdmWRZyTh8At_xF6rVNf2TJpLisGMYrAPASkDW_fKzhGHn1gyXp652vh3LqjBi9JGhJ3PIKXixc2t4_8LBbj1HczTfb3dV8QdaEzeYhbuy-C-umowRL_K-LqTMtiF0R5A_S7BsAzbk/s4669/dancing.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4669" data-original-width="3209" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoQVR2ZgXlxAdGcGhlGgz93fe3DFzoqp0nDMlr1Kqh070oALBYdRdmWRZyTh8At_xF6rVNf2TJpLisGMYrAPASkDW_fKzhGHn1gyXp652vh3LqjBi9JGhJ3PIKXixc2t4_8LBbj1HczTfb3dV8QdaEzeYhbuy-C-umowRL_K-LqTMtiF0R5A_S7BsAzbk/w275-h400/dancing.jpeg" width="275" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Then there was our Linda. 2nd soprano, 2nd danseuse, but she teamed up with the ?3rd officer, known to us as 'the gorgeous Geoffrey'. I'm sure she did better later, and is now the luxurious Mrs Linda *** somewhere in England ...<div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBsQ7G5SgIQ4JT0ffD3zORc21SXZ5Mv5ECVzX0QZZ3ixnKnkQy_850WAXyaV2_8YmWKDpMYfl3k3EI0ee1aCzbf1kMVl2Z8CSp1CwiC6MLu2EgKzLUPfm5SOUYpHnEuvF60lrP3o2wAeQ1q_N1xKM95KD8W5JPJ1-yhqDzuKeMBQlNAxbUgs_155yejsI/s4608/no3.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3178" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBsQ7G5SgIQ4JT0ffD3zORc21SXZ5Mv5ECVzX0QZZ3ixnKnkQy_850WAXyaV2_8YmWKDpMYfl3k3EI0ee1aCzbf1kMVl2Z8CSp1CwiC6MLu2EgKzLUPfm5SOUYpHnEuvF60lrP3o2wAeQ1q_N1xKM95KD8W5JPJ1-yhqDzuKeMBQlNAxbUgs_155yejsI/w276-h400/no3.jpeg" width="276" /></a></div><br /><div>I don't know if I wrote any more. 1974 is a long time ago. Dang it! Half a century!!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>But this one is with them. This must have been a 'commission' because it doesn't sound like me .. maybe an aria for <i>Alf Garnett the musical</i>?</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPhIL9kor0ATCLAp0y5rPYIK0hdrzvGrLQ_7X35gYA9GE4xrHazotICDtZ4Te3wEtWrsj2f5DSSBRQeruBizGKJuJnoeWGirMQVuxi7x9VMCg22lrX3o7HiLvml6KtJ2xmX-7Vy7hkMJJXNzCWo1ReXK7tCdblxee0r0imsy3H3FV6o_mI14k_-09VroU/s4600/today.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4600" data-original-width="3169" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPhIL9kor0ATCLAp0y5rPYIK0hdrzvGrLQ_7X35gYA9GE4xrHazotICDtZ4Te3wEtWrsj2f5DSSBRQeruBizGKJuJnoeWGirMQVuxi7x9VMCg22lrX3o7HiLvml6KtJ2xmX-7Vy7hkMJJXNzCWo1ReXK7tCdblxee0r0imsy3H3FV6o_mI14k_-09VroU/w275-h400/today.jpeg" width="275" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>I don't think there was a no2 Songs for Today. But I wonder who asked for this!</div><div><p>Oh, Lord, what else will I find. </p><p>Photos. Not many. I didn't have a camera. </p><p>This one, of course ... Hawaiian Night. Something for everyone ....</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHwFUYGQnpiyQ3dXbxYjZAR7B3hrdnuHRVtLGGLiu1-e0lbsApBnNc4JvXl2gSjQCGpSTY2BPZ-xKKGi-JI52DhoAozuTyybkS8VlkJXSHbOmU0dd6fWBNOwAYBiDIOCVp1CCeb0I5_oLN6jJOaCCtttyugUvZarSp_aRa0oi8K4d69-wKNAVkgdMp4Vk/s983/northern%20star%201972%20copy%202.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="983" height="417" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHwFUYGQnpiyQ3dXbxYjZAR7B3hrdnuHRVtLGGLiu1-e0lbsApBnNc4JvXl2gSjQCGpSTY2BPZ-xKKGi-JI52DhoAozuTyybkS8VlkJXSHbOmU0dd6fWBNOwAYBiDIOCVp1CCeb0I5_oLN6jJOaCCtttyugUvZarSp_aRa0oi8K4d69-wKNAVkgdMp4Vk/w427-h417/northern%20star%201972%20copy%202.jpg" width="427" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and my muses: Sarah, Joan and Linda<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>Ah! This day. I remember this day. Dave Wootton, 2nd or 3rd engineer, 'borrowed' a life boat and ?rowed Ali and I to a desert islet ... beautiful day ... silly fun and photos ... there was a wonderful one of me on Dave's shoulders, while he clutched a pirate knife in his teeth. Ali promised to make me a copy but, alas, it never happened ... We discovered an abandoned hut, scrumped mangoes from somebody's trees ...</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNZQBKzWmCY1B90xFsbnA3AixzEXGdAHlf1IU1yYbIqExcUh03uaFx_3Bt7zgmGiR259Y9PIFACBlyZH2YIOz8o3zrbDGkRvSF_-jtrc0uvIvPOt6WfTQyamBgW9aKHcEXZ57m16HiM6a3aP-iCOG3Eei0VrqUYg5tJ_rVLoHOt_5lvGJsQ_7vP6Gpd3g/s2048/IMG_6537.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNZQBKzWmCY1B90xFsbnA3AixzEXGdAHlf1IU1yYbIqExcUh03uaFx_3Bt7zgmGiR259Y9PIFACBlyZH2YIOz8o3zrbDGkRvSF_-jtrc0uvIvPOt6WfTQyamBgW9aKHcEXZ57m16HiM6a3aP-iCOG3Eei0VrqUYg5tJ_rVLoHOt_5lvGJsQ_7vP6Gpd3g/w400-h300/IMG_6537.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div>The photo is fading, but the memory never will, as long as I'm alive. Unless Dave (last spotted in Hobart!) is still of this world ... Ali is long, long gone ... (PS I'm told Dave is departed. I wonder if he ever regretted ultimately chickening out of our 'threesome')<div><br /></div><div>Huh! This one. 'Look dramatic', cried the photographer. Ali and I put on our best radeau de Méduse poses .. the rest just gawked, so I've cut them off</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv2ww6QkdiUU1-TQNnLu5Lou-L_Qvf8nyeYVaZhVcDSKXa9Yn2cwxUPST3q459m73xPLLsUa76izn1cgSYtKM2nunQ0Zgqyf-Z4wYUwEMDEjoiVy6Z0WTWxz4P-uHYV_SLYrG-0KVviiXzYV4-chkBQJe4g5Czt7VJrBGIlV-3PpybWd8iJQZDc3Sklro/s652/stardrama%20(1)%20copy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="652" data-original-width="626" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv2ww6QkdiUU1-TQNnLu5Lou-L_Qvf8nyeYVaZhVcDSKXa9Yn2cwxUPST3q459m73xPLLsUa76izn1cgSYtKM2nunQ0Zgqyf-Z4wYUwEMDEjoiVy6Z0WTWxz4P-uHYV_SLYrG-0KVviiXzYV4-chkBQJe4g5Czt7VJrBGIlV-3PpybWd8iJQZDc3Sklro/w384-h400/stardrama%20(1)%20copy.jpg" width="384" /></a></div><div><br /></div>And here we are at the Acropolis ... a slightly boozy night out with a delightful Greek javelin thrower ... I see he signed the back of the photo 'To a very good friend, love' .. I think it was (oh my Greek!) was it Georgios? ... xx<div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQzOiBJpqZdOsghqAJO6md7ln7RgEfSKolDqAASyeJrOkoU0qfZqzgXR37eQTJ2lASh7brQE2EPSnJ5WQqZUeiMh_pGpt9szraDT6AveMeMNGJkyNQT-UA0Wxq0HrNMjg4odMprzw8Ensqck8gNR_-7h5it6tGtow6qECx8TRMvdc_BgRHkMqZkbAnN8s/s2646/piraeus.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1821" data-original-width="2646" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQzOiBJpqZdOsghqAJO6md7ln7RgEfSKolDqAASyeJrOkoU0qfZqzgXR37eQTJ2lASh7brQE2EPSnJ5WQqZUeiMh_pGpt9szraDT6AveMeMNGJkyNQT-UA0Wxq0HrNMjg4odMprzw8Ensqck8gNR_-7h5it6tGtow6qECx8TRMvdc_BgRHkMqZkbAnN8s/w434-h298/piraeus.jpeg" width="434" /></a></div><br /><div>We were having such a good time, that we nearly missed boarding time and, not for the only time, had to leap across the gap to a quivering Piraeus gangplank!<br /><div><br /><div>Here we are at the place of my birth. Wellington, NZ. Mount Victoria. It was a childhood treat to be taken up to 'the trig' and 'the gun' at the top. When the ship stopped at Wellington we visited nana Rudi and grandfather Welsh (Mum and Dad were in Europe!) and were taken up to 'the gun' for the familiar view and this photograph ... </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh34gmFkEvUuE-BQ6zp3L2nLPOiHaMphVpalNMZ7WzrZZUdqGCKwTHt-wIn4iLfgxz6gU-9OFXCWS78qJHMYel8mCFYuOSqhKM6tMpbzH3iqyiT8KL9zsWvIaU8W298LnVKLyLEcatkKjSZphtDN-7AtGRTiJIWbVJ15ij5qEx4l31n9QMakCX8wAdckTc/s2751/gun.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1296" data-original-width="2751" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh34gmFkEvUuE-BQ6zp3L2nLPOiHaMphVpalNMZ7WzrZZUdqGCKwTHt-wIn4iLfgxz6gU-9OFXCWS78qJHMYel8mCFYuOSqhKM6tMpbzH3iqyiT8KL9zsWvIaU8W298LnVKLyLEcatkKjSZphtDN-7AtGRTiJIWbVJ15ij5qEx4l31n9QMakCX8wAdckTc/w400-h189/gun.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div>Ah! I knew I wouldn't have lost these. </div><div><br /></div><div>'Merci pour l'après-midi d'un faun' she wrote on it ... well, it was a bit like that, I suppose. Chuckle. Quite a long afternoon.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY6P5xqubssEKHdWXmcjcaS7yWWbWdPY6hY2wOXOIh_2wUedShVd0EmibOHW56CnJ2PTYEM_1iv_vrNKZpT27SDje4GCnKS5BchglKafwPNkW0TdlXnwDVY2Pb7UGaS_Y-ozMY3XUMkph7luGOEamoV6o8OQsFqhsEIfjmZNC6aOR_c-YRnzEbNbWBnlM/s3859/faun%201.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3859" data-original-width="3150" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY6P5xqubssEKHdWXmcjcaS7yWWbWdPY6hY2wOXOIh_2wUedShVd0EmibOHW56CnJ2PTYEM_1iv_vrNKZpT27SDje4GCnKS5BchglKafwPNkW0TdlXnwDVY2Pb7UGaS_Y-ozMY3XUMkph7luGOEamoV6o8OQsFqhsEIfjmZNC6aOR_c-YRnzEbNbWBnlM/w326-h400/faun%201.jpeg" width="326" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv7m-HfB90IG9T7yREqxjXyVHAbi8eml4o4TtMocZQJxabvk95WK3eiw4BYImAQUFI26xwBhUAORXTHJqHqapXVfmDeXxPQ8pH-5_BseCdQiqB0yXXbsD4xu1E5uY0BlqlKg9KxbzR6h_Y2nV9WA_mSucYqNzqNG7iYDoRoYcPuQ1OjygXlh_tNL3Givo/s3859/faun%202.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3859" data-original-width="3150" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv7m-HfB90IG9T7yREqxjXyVHAbi8eml4o4TtMocZQJxabvk95WK3eiw4BYImAQUFI26xwBhUAORXTHJqHqapXVfmDeXxPQ8pH-5_BseCdQiqB0yXXbsD4xu1E5uY0BlqlKg9KxbzR6h_Y2nV9WA_mSucYqNzqNG7iYDoRoYcPuQ1OjygXlh_tNL3Givo/w326-h400/faun%202.jpeg" width="326" /></a></div><br /><div>Yes. Like many other men, the photographer was in love/lust with her. But they weren't satyrical sprites of the forest and waves, so ... </div><div><br /></div><div>This wasn't meant to be paean to Ali. But ... she was such a memorable episode in my life ....</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh look! Malaga. </div><div><br /></div><div>Fancy my keeping that. Another of our adventures ..</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpzDqMA9XWaFg8isIE4_XMjwQtSWaSk9EOlqmcRS9yoHcU2Llutfs2KYeECCTJKgSujlaYrOw1B1ucHO4mupYV_HRiMPy69AsLVt1oz0yRYVDkwmExXw1msxROkpPFuggSsYjBOBYQbbgaLyk_T95kWedgD1EO-bv6kJYtVZN5aQSbZkxQyUHvjH5sQyY/s2230/faun%204.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2230" data-original-width="1621" height="597" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpzDqMA9XWaFg8isIE4_XMjwQtSWaSk9EOlqmcRS9yoHcU2Llutfs2KYeECCTJKgSujlaYrOw1B1ucHO4mupYV_HRiMPy69AsLVt1oz0yRYVDkwmExXw1msxROkpPFuggSsYjBOBYQbbgaLyk_T95kWedgD1EO-bv6kJYtVZN5aQSbZkxQyUHvjH5sQyY/w435-h597/faun%204.jpeg" width="435" /></a></div><br /><div>When we hit a port, if there was anything around to climb (while the others souvenired and coffeed) we climbed it. I remember Pico do Arriero in Madeira. We spent the night on top of the Pico in the hay loft of a hut. In New Zealand you just turn up at an Alpine Club Hut: you don't have to <i>book</i>. The next morning we headed down the other side. Wrong. It is much easier but much longer on that side. Sailing time was approaching. A priest passed by and I hailed him. He spoke only Portuguese and I was, alas, only up to chapter 2 of Teach Yourself Portuguese. Bright idea! I tried Latin. It worked. Predicament explained, the holy man flagged down the next truck driver and told him to take us to the ship. I'm sure my thanks were much less appreciated than the kiss Ali planted on his cheek!</div><div><br /></div><div>But to get back to Malaga. Malaga had a nice green hill above the bull-ring so ... nice leafy path ... what's that in the bushes? I scrambled down. A handbag. We looked inside ... OK, it had clearly been snatched, the money stolen, and the bag chucked into the shrubbery. But there were passports .. We scrambled down again, and found the local police station. The Spanish Garda speak French and English. Hurrah! So we handed in the bag and thought no more of it. Until a few weeks later a parcel arrived at the ship for us. Delicious German cakes and a letter of thanks.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ah me. In our long afternoon as a couple, we had so many memorable episodes together. Then we went ashore. Our beautiful ship was going to Taiwan to be turned into teaspoons. Well, her left boiler <i>had</i> spat the dummy in the middle of the Mediterranean. That was a fun time! We bobbed around, and Barry and I, who had become an amazingly proficient bridge pair, amused the remaining passengers with long evenings of cards ..</div><div><br /></div><div>Back iin Britain, I went into <i>Hans Andersen </i>at the Palladium, Ali into <i>Kismet </i>at the Shaftesbury and <i>Hay Fever </i>at the Haymarket ... and the end of the afternoon had arrived. I moved in with the older man who would be my partner for the next 30 plus years, Ali made an attempt to find another Faun, but then tragedy struck. 'I keep falling over'. I knew. Multiple Sclerosis.</div><div><br /></div><div>She sent me this photo ... I have later ones, but by then she was strapped in a wheel chair, lifted in and out of bed by a hoist ... the writing on this is already almost illegible .. 'me now in a chair lift ....'</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFp_bCVY-R5NH6wCC_Io8hNMz7RJ9w0pHD2GM2Qqz9qKcgEi4Z5nC4db2czYgx9YjoRZiNyUH2U_btHXEOOYJsV6amwjUSIlnB8pdb7KCL8kYSU8RVUu3wjuhx69LXgPcWTnsFCDp5H4_kd0RTjjJMGCzCUvdKaY83j7j-Y1xZyemAlULYrzGY_40fYf0/s2044/faun%205.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1478" data-original-width="2044" height="289" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFp_bCVY-R5NH6wCC_Io8hNMz7RJ9w0pHD2GM2Qqz9qKcgEi4Z5nC4db2czYgx9YjoRZiNyUH2U_btHXEOOYJsV6amwjUSIlnB8pdb7KCL8kYSU8RVUu3wjuhx69LXgPcWTnsFCDp5H4_kd0RTjjJMGCzCUvdKaY83j7j-Y1xZyemAlULYrzGY_40fYf0/w400-h289/faun%205.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div>Still as beautiful as ever. We flew her to St Paul de Vence with a nurse to stay with us ... alas, she developed an infection and the visit was not what it might have been ...</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_nUz-IWkAdmB9sn6hv93O4Fvz0M9uwBJwg6oIsBiwmQRlc_MWpSiBDrbPJI6Y-PsMZznS7ZrAs2TUPI6uMYuRR-Qv0MrvDxe8-mMl3MWodT1HQkziorDXT022c8mFZM_t8ZUmwSJX37sMVMybfd_2vm-iO6Sw2BtSGP2cWzk7zpNUVwMn1QO_LYZogQc/s1568/Chez%20Risch%20Ali_Ian_K.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1022" data-original-width="1568" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_nUz-IWkAdmB9sn6hv93O4Fvz0M9uwBJwg6oIsBiwmQRlc_MWpSiBDrbPJI6Y-PsMZznS7ZrAs2TUPI6uMYuRR-Qv0MrvDxe8-mMl3MWodT1HQkziorDXT022c8mFZM_t8ZUmwSJX37sMVMybfd_2vm-iO6Sw2BtSGP2cWzk7zpNUVwMn1QO_LYZogQc/w400-h261/Chez%20Risch%20Ali_Ian_K.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div><div>It was the last time I saw her. She had lived on 'happy pills' for twenty years .. if you call that living. I think her memories of our time together were as special to her as they still are to me ...</div><div><br /></div><div>I know. An afternoon cannot go on eternally... but I never tried to repeat my glorious bout of heterosexuality. I knew I would be constantly comparing ... and nothing and no one could ever come up to Ali. I tried to repeat the ship experience. Our (reduced) company was hired for the <i>Queen Elizabeth II. </i>Horrid. No atmosphere, no stage, no keep-fit class, no porthole and no companionship apart from my dear friends from the <i>Star</i>. Barry and Rosie. No Ali. Plastic where the <i>Star </i>had been wood-panelled ... </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Qr8gqCu8vM-7jcg5TRvSx1UPYh9D_Vy5Zd5QttaLPubhrLfUdgBxt86yIl40C-kWIWwV46GMb-aXOyNO8AJ4RJnDKMThtMKZe_D0KjfO8nA1fNvczhj7I8EpP0_WhcrHECQOELQaGEz-IkfQY5PmsLzuR6gsJYCqGw4J9K8v2hv3ocZAdpEzFd3c0QI/s1280/qe%201.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="909" data-original-width="1280" height="307" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Qr8gqCu8vM-7jcg5TRvSx1UPYh9D_Vy5Zd5QttaLPubhrLfUdgBxt86yIl40C-kWIWwV46GMb-aXOyNO8AJ4RJnDKMThtMKZe_D0KjfO8nA1fNvczhj7I8EpP0_WhcrHECQOELQaGEz-IkfQY5PmsLzuR6gsJYCqGw4J9K8v2hv3ocZAdpEzFd3c0QI/w432-h307/qe%201.jpeg" width="432" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">QE2. Kurt, Rosemary (sop) and her husband, by now, Barry Collins.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPdqiVSF9mELgSgSl5ZEyrBsiYsnWsEk0Q3fC2s06fsU_6vIfj7RySyqX6_MFFlDGI9OfJ3opBFTbH5r-iaPrTEgVlk-onyELi2zBJl5Bc95qXJM_M2qUMwMLn-QMdEKyg9u1I19ePlESPz_uIzHLBRshkpxc3d7NBo7N43o0wtdavXkQGatpUX3wA3e4/s1312/qe.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1312" data-original-width="947" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPdqiVSF9mELgSgSl5ZEyrBsiYsnWsEk0Q3fC2s06fsU_6vIfj7RySyqX6_MFFlDGI9OfJ3opBFTbH5r-iaPrTEgVlk-onyELi2zBJl5Bc95qXJM_M2qUMwMLn-QMdEKyg9u1I19ePlESPz_uIzHLBRshkpxc3d7NBo7N43o0wtdavXkQGatpUX3wA3e4/w462-h640/qe.jpeg" width="462" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> The 'reduced' company. </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><div>Ali would have been 70 last 8 October, had she lived. We played a game once, snuggled up in my top bunk (with the three other bunks in the cabin occupied!), childishly ticking off our past bedmates (very few!!) and saying what we thought the other would be doing at age 70. I remember she was quite indignant when I saw her as one of those ballet mistresses with a pole, rapping out the time ... she sweetly said she saw me rich and famous. I was wrong, of course. She was kind of right, if the 'r' and the 'f' are lower case.</div><div><br /></div><div>Well, amazing what thoughts a bit of ephemera can bring on. </div><div><br /></div><div>The cathedral in Malta, where ladies had to have head covering and men not-nude legs. Ali whipped off her wrap-around skirt, I put it on. I handed her my foulard, she made a head-scarf of it ... and in we went ...</div><div><br /></div><div>Hawaii, where we visited a dance hall-cum-bar. The locals cheered us into a solo performance, They didn't know Ali was Royal Ballet School. And that I, in spite of her patient coaching, the worst dancer in the world. But I was young, slim, uninhibited and I could wriggle like a wraith, and that seemed to go down a treat!</div><div><br /></div><div>The castle in Lisbon with the white peacocks, where a lurking laddie tried to leap on Ali. The day she trod on a sea urchin (the last spine came out a month later) ...</div><div><br /></div><div>Then, there was the episode of the Diary. Ali kept a very large, very green, very personal, very frank, very detailed Diary. No one was allowed to read it, not even I, who featured in it largely. 'I'll leave it to you in my will' she joked. (She didn't). It had to happen. One day she left the volume on deck. It was found by the Gorgeous Geoffrey who kindly, fairly quickly, returned it. But he'd clearly had a dip. He ever said anything, but therafter he looked at me shall we say 'respectfully'. I think I may have had good reviews!</div><div><br /></div><div><div>There are more tales ... oh, so many more tales ... adventures ... maybe I shall paste them in, if I can catch them in my net as they flutter by the open window in my mind's eye ...</div></div><div><br /></div><div>And maybe they don't need to be enshrined in the National Library! And maybe they do .. :-)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p></div></div></div></div>GEROLSTEINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08446253124724430879noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8935297705846111801.post-53738388191410228542024-01-23T15:15:00.000-08:002024-01-23T16:59:02.407-08:00Maske in Blau: Rudolf Podany<p> </p><p>This ceramic lady stared down at me, from above my piano, in the early 1950s. I found her a bit off-putting. My mother loathed her. Vater must have liked her, though: he'd brought her all the way from Vienna to New Zealand in the late 1930s.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBrSJXK-ymaeNba2G_6T2NPKYaIy9AwKVzwiCARN5xWKtlNnX29HC_jZ3XdOJZefm4pp0PkCcGYJbGZl4_Qd5B4riXp99FgHboSr2uaNiX5lP0T6gW4EcAA7ZGl3LdM1-cgKuymd9KAzlhmsdfWsl2S3lFx6fpI6ynFuDLuU16f4zhAP3l20CjpnmsOv8/s2048/IMG_6527.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBrSJXK-ymaeNba2G_6T2NPKYaIy9AwKVzwiCARN5xWKtlNnX29HC_jZ3XdOJZefm4pp0PkCcGYJbGZl4_Qd5B4riXp99FgHboSr2uaNiX5lP0T6gW4EcAA7ZGl3LdM1-cgKuymd9KAzlhmsdfWsl2S3lFx6fpI6ynFuDLuU16f4zhAP3l20CjpnmsOv8/w400-h300/IMG_6527.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div>And so, in the way of things, finally, she descended to me. To a dusty top shelf in my study. I'm not sure why I went to that shelf yesterday. Anyway, it was obvious that she needed a wash and brushup. So she came down from her gloomy nooklet and ...<div><br /></div><div>What was she?, I wondered. The back should give a clue ...</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhguX0xAhfLzcvw_8WgedE9uLAChukp92r9aoYoH6-MyHwj9UafH-N4zD2bIpvvKYeCQFZBzqZvWdhHAm7Hoifxwj2D6LmxCoBeltqzQwsWDQ7E6VR5W-__0OroBCP23hxol2zEBDiUXBS1Wkvh-dizPiah11jdOnS1zZlC4XXqzPjwNjLzHFEGf6AXwL4/s2048/IMG_6529.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhguX0xAhfLzcvw_8WgedE9uLAChukp92r9aoYoH6-MyHwj9UafH-N4zD2bIpvvKYeCQFZBzqZvWdhHAm7Hoifxwj2D6LmxCoBeltqzQwsWDQ7E6VR5W-__0OroBCP23hxol2zEBDiUXBS1Wkvh-dizPiah11jdOnS1zZlC4XXqzPjwNjLzHFEGf6AXwL4/w400-h300/IMG_6529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Nice clear markings. Keramos. Austria. 926/M2. Podany.<div><br /></div><div>Here we are. A lovely site named PROANTIC. <a href="https://www.proantic.com/en/982453-rudolf-podany-1876-1963-for-keramos-in-vienna-austria-mask-of-camilla-horn-1930.html">https://www.proantic.com/en/982453-rudolf-podany-1876-1963-for-keramos-in-vienna-austria-mask-of-camilla-horn-1930.html</a></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnyezFU3x3mBG0hxjMrTxBEs1qtzUj_xcAslxbAIpMCSdQvi0XrrAMwnEaWrqrp8Ej-nz2el602g7CInNpk6PdjE_2LaHTl4j9h99um3y1TyevCt81RZABIOjVeUYU_prIRfWV_SUJ8SG45kB1qiIPrSDK4040HL_NPyVJRD5GlTqjDKSHEDBa3zaVxwo/s1200/982453-62e697521ad4c.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="772" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnyezFU3x3mBG0hxjMrTxBEs1qtzUj_xcAslxbAIpMCSdQvi0XrrAMwnEaWrqrp8Ej-nz2el602g7CInNpk6PdjE_2LaHTl4j9h99um3y1TyevCt81RZABIOjVeUYU_prIRfWV_SUJ8SG45kB1qiIPrSDK4040HL_NPyVJRD5GlTqjDKSHEDBa3zaVxwo/w412-h640/982453-62e697521ad4c.jpg" width="412" /></a></div><br /><div>Artist: Rudolf Podany (1876-1963). Oh! This is a mask, with eyes, of the performer Camilla Horn. Maybe my mask is 'someone' as well...</div><div><br /></div><div>Ah! Here she is! <a href="https://www.1stdibs.com/furniture/dining-entertaining/ceramics/1920-s-art-deco-woman-face-mask-ceramic-rudolf-podany-keramos-austria/id-f_28740012/">https://www.1stdibs.com/furniture/dining-entertaining/ceramics/1920-s-art-deco-woman-face-mask-ceramic-rudolf-podany-keramos-austria/id-f_28740012/</a></div><div><br /></div><div>$1500? US? But she seems to have eyes. Maybe that accounts for the price. Elsewhere Podany wall-masks eyes or more rarely no-eyes seem to sell for £100 or so ...</div><div><br /></div><div>Ah, here's another, similar, dated 1936. No eyes. 892/M2. </div><div><br /></div><div>He seems to have made a whole series of these fashionable ladies of the period. Sometimes with names, sometimes not.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNFbX70Tbp5OZEPxK4s9cAQGqa0Z2kEGTKLCYGGmc4nucLP2owNgQtN13uuf1gtEbdJpmDSTHCS3PgNb7AaXhZrWDKr68VMbnH5Gv6Qr5cQ0rkWtqg_gVV1nKFSGDxaUtCO5IO771tTGFFnfyNgeDxffE3nP2V35u-5EEYVzMyHjoY7W_CuUgbr7TGQ9g/s381/b045f156a3b796c8f79e3f20bfc69c0c.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="381" data-original-width="300" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNFbX70Tbp5OZEPxK4s9cAQGqa0Z2kEGTKLCYGGmc4nucLP2owNgQtN13uuf1gtEbdJpmDSTHCS3PgNb7AaXhZrWDKr68VMbnH5Gv6Qr5cQ0rkWtqg_gVV1nKFSGDxaUtCO5IO771tTGFFnfyNgeDxffE3nP2V35u-5EEYVzMyHjoY7W_CuUgbr7TGQ9g/w315-h400/b045f156a3b796c8f79e3f20bfc69c0c.jpg" width="315" /></a></div><br /><div>Occasionally using the same colour palette.</div><div><br /></div><div>Just remembered. Dad had a couple of little ones too .. here they are ...</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCTG_cRD4fe3vn9F1-McUDTAo0ABn1AnDymy2nhqw3UI-BQ5GrU1g5CZQ25EyZkLyWu6zMuxj0fkBYt0VV6FxAcvZvNHylZxOr1kjc8xsUj1J7LJsh5cy7depakfJ2tS04PVqbxfw6d77Rjwbd1vK6IAclZiEzo7mDb-F_5dgGK7avEElO0H3uv-W6BvE/s2048/IMG_6530.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCTG_cRD4fe3vn9F1-McUDTAo0ABn1AnDymy2nhqw3UI-BQ5GrU1g5CZQ25EyZkLyWu6zMuxj0fkBYt0VV6FxAcvZvNHylZxOr1kjc8xsUj1J7LJsh5cy7depakfJ2tS04PVqbxfw6d77Rjwbd1vK6IAclZiEzo7mDb-F_5dgGK7avEElO0H3uv-W6BvE/w400-h300/IMG_6530.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div>No eyes, but not pierced. And not stamped or marked with any maker's or artist's name ... rough interior, not the glazed inside of the bigger mask .. hole in the back, obviously meant to go on a pin in the wall ...</div><div><br /></div><div>Ah, well, back on the shelf ...</div><div><br /></div><div>Let's see if I can find a Podany expert or catalogue and find out if 926/M2 is actually someone ... </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /><p><br /></p></div></div></div>GEROLSTEINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08446253124724430879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8935297705846111801.post-51741161505611399762024-01-12T15:26:00.000-08:002024-01-12T15:55:13.350-08:00The musical Haddocks of Leeds ...<p> </p><p>The name Haddock in C19th Leeds was synonomous not only with the fishmarket but with music.</p><p>Many is the time I have written the biography of one of my Victorian Vocalists who hailed from the Northern or Midland part of England, beginning a pupil of Mr Haddock .... Not always the same Mr Haddock, because there were several, all worthy performers, violinists, conductors and teachers ...</p><p>Amongst them were George Haddock (1823-1907) and his two youngest sons, George Percy (1854-1937) and Edgar Augustus (1859-1926). Which meant that I went .. er ... what ... which? when this wonderful photograph turned up, today, on ebay ...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKF23hlyD7e38g5k1idu4xTPNfP44_7goMR4MINsfh1WskH4RqTvJAI-Xf4BWxWV4iiUC_FFmrStQQuRGZ2JLGK99aUGRfDSTvqaS6o1qmSSqgLSI2EVF_PlosLXJUlIW0Q66PegBy4KUWfdcZHwIXG0MLZhiesvVapUkfAxGqhpuJpFjbmk0TFT0Zj5g/s1176/s-l1600-3.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="859" data-original-width="1176" height="362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKF23hlyD7e38g5k1idu4xTPNfP44_7goMR4MINsfh1WskH4RqTvJAI-Xf4BWxWV4iiUC_FFmrStQQuRGZ2JLGK99aUGRfDSTvqaS6o1qmSSqgLSI2EVF_PlosLXJUlIW0Q66PegBy4KUWfdcZHwIXG0MLZhiesvVapUkfAxGqhpuJpFjbmk0TFT0Zj5g/w494-h362/s-l1600-3.png" width="494" /></a></div><br /><p>Yes, an historian's dream. Date, place ... Only one problem. Is that initial a 'G' or an 'E'? I hie me to the Leeds papers of March 1890.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHFSKAWT5iLQCljpyhXqb7mHX0Q8sVnQTkMKH9AIyP2ydq_aM1YoewWPXUC0fxT8vuxHlukTjJp3w6cR4xcKGl4V1R0AHNqj37fFR7-MT53e3BwtYzPaaHqdxejKRoOZWx4tYhFVUmUrTr-krPxG2AaaLQ0aZ-FBB2yIhyphenhyphenGhgAt548Xvam9rzBPQF6E_g/s1284/haddock.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1284" data-original-width="814" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHFSKAWT5iLQCljpyhXqb7mHX0Q8sVnQTkMKH9AIyP2ydq_aM1YoewWPXUC0fxT8vuxHlukTjJp3w6cR4xcKGl4V1R0AHNqj37fFR7-MT53e3BwtYzPaaHqdxejKRoOZWx4tYhFVUmUrTr-krPxG2AaaLQ0aZ-FBB2yIhyphenhyphenGhgAt548Xvam9rzBPQF6E_g/w406-h640/haddock.jpg" width="406" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihd3pUBkToPzxVKc8FhpWzZjIHqLZnE1JSlj8pePpEO-22so21NLotWM_IKWypTAni92ZvDdnWl26CkfXAOw2LXRU9wCU_15XSq1-Pm542JH8aQGbDRjosl78Kf8KSBfBCSKuQ4gh_whZ83Pm71NKmrwvRrQrKDjMA0WcH6Nu1E64-IJgzYFs-Ecicuzs/s3521/haddock%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3521" data-original-width="924" height="918" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihd3pUBkToPzxVKc8FhpWzZjIHqLZnE1JSlj8pePpEO-22so21NLotWM_IKWypTAni92ZvDdnWl26CkfXAOw2LXRU9wCU_15XSq1-Pm542JH8aQGbDRjosl78Kf8KSBfBCSKuQ4gh_whZ83Pm71NKmrwvRrQrKDjMA0WcH6Nu1E64-IJgzYFs-Ecicuzs/w241-h918/haddock%202.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br />Yes. Albert Hall, Leeds. Yes, Edgar is on the bill as soloist. George jr's music is being played ... and Edgar seems to be the promotor.<div><br /><div>But. Where is the orchestra? Unless they played the Gounod. Otherwise its a piano and fiddle concert.</div><div><br /></div><div>A is it E or G in the photo. Well, Edgar would have been barely 30 years old. George sr knocking 70. I guess it is papa ...</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs0z6sfiqv_j3WMo6pN8piW3dR8Uct7izuodk3cx8FdVPThjWLwsq8jXbD1C_MwgzcOeoApxnvhpkviqy2kBT59ApViTIm4XzQKpS8GDe9lFjfmBMu4qPhCHtHVDTataXnTop-Wuyxe4O9IeCwoh6xqq4Yx9_rizxUT8RlacByJLh9baaeYHnyy4EHWDE/s267/George_Haddock.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="267" data-original-width="220" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs0z6sfiqv_j3WMo6pN8piW3dR8Uct7izuodk3cx8FdVPThjWLwsq8jXbD1C_MwgzcOeoApxnvhpkviqy2kBT59ApViTIm4XzQKpS8GDe9lFjfmBMu4qPhCHtHVDTataXnTop-Wuyxe4O9IeCwoh6xqq4Yx9_rizxUT8RlacByJLh9baaeYHnyy4EHWDE/w329-h400/George_Haddock.jpg" width="329" /></a></div><br /><div>Well, now the photo is preserved for posterity and the Leeds archives. And of course the likes of Alamy, Getty and Wikiplegia...</div><div><br /></div><div>But I've done my bit!<br /><p><br /></p></div></div>GEROLSTEINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08446253124724430879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8935297705846111801.post-28784102171178681422024-01-10T18:30:00.000-08:002024-01-11T14:56:29.544-08:00The Best 'Broadway' Book in Decades<p> </p><p>Since this is 11 January 2024, it's not much chop to say this is my 'Book of the Year' I'll just say ...</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">THE BEST BROADWAY BOOK IN DECADES <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Miss McGinty and Miss Elvstrom<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">I just read a book. Cover to cover. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">I don't often do that, I read to research. Factual books, not fiction, are my pleasure. The last fictive book I read was Alan Simons's <i>The Village</i> <i>of Little Pletzel on-the-Zump. </i>The last new theatre book I read ... gulp ... the last 'Broadway' book I (re-) read was either Moss Hart's <i>Act One </i>or Don Dunne's <i>The Making of No, No, Nanette. </i>And, even then, I just re-read my favourite bits. But today, I read a whole book, from page 1 to <i>fin</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-pvYNoXise_D6PG0kvwHNtRLv3FguRWpuI2i-UVJE8YEkaLMUNw0EsDygH7p6JGsGvY4-C0Ob4uSBGlwv_pMaIDRQCEP64vIDB-W-MHfMZ4SgBjHBWPmwIRNMH4QhqxJKfannUHvHAMholQlQ9oT8ZDT3vPZJwa_373xH6DxR61LCd78Mirq6T1EYnxw/s958/418442041_3322792697866453_2700639857570175438_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="958" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-pvYNoXise_D6PG0kvwHNtRLv3FguRWpuI2i-UVJE8YEkaLMUNw0EsDygH7p6JGsGvY4-C0Ob4uSBGlwv_pMaIDRQCEP64vIDB-W-MHfMZ4SgBjHBWPmwIRNMH4QhqxJKfannUHvHAMholQlQ9oT8ZDT3vPZJwa_373xH6DxR61LCd78Mirq6T1EYnxw/w400-h225/418442041_3322792697866453_2700639857570175438_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Fact or fiction? Well, <i>Mary and Ethel ... and Mikey who? </i>is a bit of each. A hazardous exercise, putting wholly fictional characters into and even influencing more or less factual events. Often it is just clumsily done and silly. But not here.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">The author blends (theatrical) historical events and people with the product of his delicious Broadway-Jewish imagination and humour in a wholly enchanting narrative which had me glued to the page throughout. There is an air of magic ... a ton of twinkle dust and plenty of whisky sour ... emanating from the pages.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">I'm going to break the cardinal rule of book/theatre reviewing, a rule which nowadays seems to have gone into hibernation. (1) Tell the reader what the book is about and (2) Then, how well the author has pulled it off. Well, I've already told you that Stephen Cole has pulled off his audacious tale, technically and in the most attractive English, summa cum laude.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">So, what is it all about? I'm only going to give an outline here. I don't want to spoil the book for what I'm sure will be the many thousands of readers to come.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcDeiq_bdf4nqEuP5HICwsz9Uin7EQW4izA2-ic2GWlRELGjqrO6qUX7OPhy3LgPABZDQOpkHFPVl9hjcbaWF-HqdMU-Ry3RibGxAugwQ05ZIvUy3QAbwWdp4Cj_KCMjUJTr1_GgCldPJZNQLbD0PHFg8Vv0YUKl9oydTXFshOwO5XETkmYNSKNJf1vC0/s600/416946860_3320423248103398_1313489753870782602_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="523" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcDeiq_bdf4nqEuP5HICwsz9Uin7EQW4izA2-ic2GWlRELGjqrO6qUX7OPhy3LgPABZDQOpkHFPVl9hjcbaWF-HqdMU-Ry3RibGxAugwQ05ZIvUy3QAbwWdp4Cj_KCMjUJTr1_GgCldPJZNQLbD0PHFg8Vv0YUKl9oydTXFshOwO5XETkmYNSKNJf1vC0/w349-h400/416946860_3320423248103398_1313489753870782602_n.jpg" width="349" /></a></div><br /><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">A Broadway story. Mary and Ethel. Well, it's not going to be Mary McGinty and Ethel Elvstrom, is it? Mary Martin and Ethel Merman are the most enormous female monuments of the American musical theatre during its mid-20th century glory period. But, don't we already know all there is to know about them? I mean they've been written about so many times in the endless books of anecdotes (true or false) that have passed for Broadway literature in the last decades. But not like this!</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">When an author makes dead people speak in direct speech you are out of fact, and into fiction. You know, 'Shakespeare said to Oliver Cromwell ..'.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">This book has loads of direct speech. But, not inappropriately so. Because the star of the book is the wholly fictional Mikey, a 25 year old, gay Jewish lad who with his sort-of spirit guide, a black maid (some of the time), Mary2, who turn up, whenever needed, in the various episodes of the lives, public and personal, of our two heroines. Between them, they make sure history happens ... Mikey and Mary2 need to take on <i>La Divina Commedia </i>if they are looking for a follow-up.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Now, I'm about to make a shocking admission. I never saw either of these ladies on stage or in the flesh. But I've listened to every cast recording they ever made. And I'm afraid the stentorian tones of 'Mermsie' just don't appeal to me. Miss Martin at her best is decidedly more nuanced, but ... Anyhow, just to say, I'm not a pushover for the pair. I'm not one, though I know I am probably minoritaire, who leaps at the mere murmur of the names of Mary and the Merm. But ....<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">I came out of this book feeling I knew more about them than I ever had before. I think I actually 'like' them. And I definitely like Mikey, even if he did pop his cork for Jerome Robbins. But the one I want to take home with me is Mary2. Every man's Méphisto, Fairy Godmother and will o' the wisp rolled into one.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">I could go on and on ... but I think I shall gush if I do. And I'm not the gushing type. All I will say is ...<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">This book is going to sell itself to the Broadway royal brigade. But I hope it goes much, much further. It is a masterful compound of fact and fiction that just happens to be 'about' two ikons of the American musical theatre, presented in the happiest of fashions ... all of which goes together to make this the best 'Broadway book' since ... er ... Bordman and Norton rolled into one.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0caVI3zyfzyDAz-eo0Lc3ns5XXL1i9dX84S6-yZsfpQuaEH9AcoCPrWgdKUJnHztEsc3hpa5b_s_b76i_gJMaTqHgK2VpGYg7fnjoZBk0t0CAycQm3cAeIUDAi1lboX3DmitB3pLfOCKNqIYcmMSpWVbVsyBhQih4yWmPBNtTFf6ACjXmDVQcbGxnHeA/s960/351470770_277014764778014_6069593201543108520_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="385" data-original-width="960" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0caVI3zyfzyDAz-eo0Lc3ns5XXL1i9dX84S6-yZsfpQuaEH9AcoCPrWgdKUJnHztEsc3hpa5b_s_b76i_gJMaTqHgK2VpGYg7fnjoZBk0t0CAycQm3cAeIUDAi1lboX3DmitB3pLfOCKNqIYcmMSpWVbVsyBhQih4yWmPBNtTFf6ACjXmDVQcbGxnHeA/w400-h160/351470770_277014764778014_6069593201543108520_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><i><span lang="EN-US"> </span></i></p>GEROLSTEINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08446253124724430879noreply@blogger.com2