Claude Flemming

When Collits’ Inn opened at Melbourne’s Princess Theatre two days before Christmas on 23 December 1933, it became the first home-grown hit musical theatre success running for a record-breaking 15 weeks. Billed as Australia’s first musical romance, it was produced by Frank Thring Snr, under his Efftee Players production company, and starred Australia’s reigning Queen of Operetta, Gladys Moncrieff. In those days 15 weeks was an incredible run for any musical let alone one of local origin. So how did that happen? Let’s go back to the beginning.

Composer Varney Monk and her husband Cyril had spent part of their honeymoon in the Blue Mountains, west of Sydney, at an Inn near Mt. Victoria, dating back to 1837. On a subsequent visit they met a German-born naturalized Australian, named W.J. Berghofer who related the colourful story of Collits’ Inn, and Irishman and convict, Pierce Collits and his daughter Amelia. The Inn had originally been built in 1823 by Colitts, after he had earned his ticket-of-leave. It became a stop where coach horses were changed, when the road was being pushed through from Penrith to the Western Plains by convicts, who worked under military supervision.

Varney Monk in the 1930s. Photographer unknown.

National Library of Australia, Canberra

Collits’ Inn, photographed in the 1870s when it was under the management of Edward Field

State Library of New South Wales, Sydney

“Amelia Collits had fallen in love with a young Ensign in charge of a road gang building a new road through the mountains. Pierce, hating the Redcoats with all the vengeance of an ex-convict, forbids their marriage and drives the Ensign away. Amelia is so distraught she vows to marry the first man who enters the Inn and she does. Skene, a foreman on the new road, is the first man to enter and Amelia fulfils her vow. Later the Ensign, now a widower, returned to the valley and asks Amelia to redeem their love of the past in marriage, but she refuses, claiming it is too late for change.” This became the story on which Collits’ Inn was based.

In 1932 Nathalie Rosenwax, a well-known Sydney singing teacher, announced a Light Opera and Revue Competition, for the Opportune Club. Monk wanted to enter and approached her journalist neighbour, Tom Stuart Gurr to write the book which he agreed to do.

Although Collits’ Inn came second in the competition, it was the show picked up for production by Rosenwax. The wining entry The Island of Palms, by Arnold R. Mote and Margery Browne, appears to have remained on the shelf never seeing the light of day.

Rosenwax later in the year organized a five-night pro-am season at the Savoy Theatre, Sydney, (5/12/32), with her star pupil, professional, Rene Maxwell as Mary Collits, Donald McNiven as Robert Keane, Ambrose Bourke as John Lake, Ann Stuart Gurr as Mistress Dale, and radio personality Jack Win as Dandy Dick. It was produced by E. Elliott Lloyd. Choreography was by Evelyn Parrett.

The Sydney Morning Herald carried a review on 6 December 1932, which called it, “An Australian Opera”, and said that the show had “beautiful music” which “lifted the story to a height of romantic interest”. Maxwell was praised for her voice, and they liked her harmonized love duets with Ambrose Bourke, who played Captain John Lake. Monk’s husband, Cyril, a violinist, was the Leader of the Conservatorium Orchestra, which was conducted by Howard Carr who had also written the orchestrations.

Gurr had adapted Monk’s story which now told the tale of Mary, torn between the love of Captain John Lake and a notorious bushranger, Robert Keene, who had helped her father change the route of the road to pass his Inn. Mary declares her love for Lake, but after a fight between him and Keane, in which Keane is killed, Lake is posted back to England. Mary suffers a memory loss but recovers in time for a happy ending when Lake returns.

Collits’ Inn—ABC broadcast

From Wireless Weekly, 16 June 1933

Program for Collits’ Inn, Princess Theatre, Melbourne, 1933

Rob Morrison collection

Songs to make an impression were, “This Year”, (reprised as “Last Year”), sung by Mary and Lake, and Keane’s “Some Distant Day”. The latter was a trunk song by Monk and had been published by Palings in 1929. “Aboriginal Chant” was written in the time signature of 7/8 and had been notated by Monk as it was sung and danced to her by Queen Rosie, one of the last remaining full-blooded Aboriginal members of the Illawarra Tribe, in a tea-shop in Kiama.

The score at this time included: “Collits’ Inn”, “The Road”, “Drinking Song”, “Some Distant Day”, “Making Memories”, “Stay While the Stars Are Shining”, “Aboriginal Dance”, Outlaw’s Song”, “Duddawarra River”, “See What Love’s Done To Me”. “Sally at the Sliprails”, “My Desire”, “Sweet William”, “The Chaperone”, and “This Year”.

The following year ABC radio decided to produce a radio version of the musical which went to air on 2FC, 2NC, 3LO, 2CO, 4QG and 4BK, on Wednesday 21 June 1933. It featured many performers who were in the Savoy Theatre premiere production, headed by Rene Maxwell (Mary), Norman Barnes (John Lake), Ann Stuart Gurr (Mistress Dale), with Eric Masters playing Robert Keane, and Dan Agar as Dandy Dick. Musical Direction was again by Howard Carr, with Production by George D. Parker.

On 2 July 1933, ABC radio broadcast the musical again with one major cast change, Carlton Stuart played the bushranger, Robert Keene. All other credits remained the same.

During this time Monk tried to interest J.C. Williamson’s, in mounting a production of the work but they declined, saying it was “no good”. Undaunted Monk travelled to Melbourne and did a backers audition with soprano, Phyllis Baker, baritone Alan Eddy, and orchestra for film producer, F.W. Thring, who had stated he was interested in theatrical production. Thring liked what he heard and agreed to produce the show and set about engaging a top flight cast for a premiere that would take place at the Princess Theatre, Melbourne, 23 December 1933.

He immediately signed Australia’s top box-office draw, Gladys Moncrieff to a twelve-month contract, brought her frequent leading man, Robert Chisholm, back from London, and also signed audience favorite Claude Flemming, and comic George Wallace. It was to be Moncrieff’s first performance in an Australian Musical, and Wallace’s first legitimate theatre role after appearing in vaudeville and movies for Thring’s Efftee Productions (including His Royal Highness, Harmony Rowand A Ticket In Tatts). The production also featured a revolving stage (unique for its time), and the “Aboriginal Chant” was expanded and became a Corroboree.

Act 1, Scene 1 Patrons gather in the Tap-room of Collits’ Inn and outside the inn

Australian Performing Arts Collection, Arts Centre Melbourne

Act 1, Scene 2  The settlers gather outside the inn, while Bunny Carthew (Frank Bradley) confers with Robert Keane (Claude Flemming) in the foreground

Australian Performing Arts Collection, Arts Centre Melbourne

Act 1, Scene 2  Captain Lake (Robert Chisholm) arrives at the inn with the redcoat troop

Australian Performing Arts Collection, Arts Centre Melbourne

The show underwent numerous changes between the Savoy Theatre tryout season and the version that appeared on the Princess stage. Some songs had been repositioned, “My Desire”, and “See What Love’s Done To Me”, had been dropped, and three new songs had been added, but only one composed by Monk titled, “Australia”. Charles Zwar, who the following year would see his own musical Blue Mountain Melody, produced by J.C. Williamson’s, composed the music and lyrics to “They’re In Love”, and George Wallace did likewise with his comedy number “Dangerous Dandy Dick”. Additional music was provided by Harry Jacobs, who also did the orchestrations, and additional lyric credits went to book writer Tom Stuart Gurr and Jock McLeod. Monk was not happy with the changes and thought “the order of the songs as used in the tryout worked better”.

Act 1, Scene 3 Captain Lake (Robert Chisholm) confers with Pierce Collits (Marshall Crosby) while the troops wait outside

Australian Performing Arts Collection, Arts Centre Melbourne

Act 2, Scene 1 Dandy Dick (George Wallace) shows off the ‘native bear’ that he has captured to Sally (Phyllis Baker) and the girls in the garden

Australian Performing Arts Collection, Arts Centre Melbourne

Act 2, Scene 4 Mary Collits (Gladys Moncrieff) and her companions attend to their needlework while singing the “Duddawarra River”

Australian Performing Arts Collection, Arts Centre Melbourne

Act 2, Scene 4 Dandy Dick is brought before Captain Lake

Australian Performing Arts Collection, Arts Centre Melbourne

As well as Moncrieff, Chisholm, Flemming and Wallace, the original cast included: Marshall Crosby, Phyllis Baker, Frank Bradley, Campbell Copelin, Edward O. Davis, John Dobbie, Ashton Jarry, D’Arcy Kelway, Garthe Meade, Phillip Peake, Ron Riley, Russell Scott, Norman Shepherd, Jock Thompson, and Byrl Walkley.

Collits’ Inn opened with a fanfare of publicity and became an instant success. 3KZ gave a descriptive broadcast, (relayed to other states) of the audience and dignitaries arriving at the theatre, which was followed by a complete broadcast of Act One of the musical.

Act 3, Scene 1 Captain Lake faces the footlights to sing the patriotic ballad “Australia”

Australian Performing Arts Collection, Arts Centre Melbourne

The critics’ reviews were glowing. The Age (26/12/33) called it a “a splendid success” and said it should “enjoy a long run”. They liked Moncrieff and Chisholm, called “Stay While then Stars Are Shining”, the theme song, and thought “Australia” could be adopted as a national anthem.

After playing for 15 weeks the show transferred to the Tivoli Theatre, Sydney (22/6/34) where it ran for a further nine. The Sydney Morning Herald (23/6/34) was equally as laudatory, calling it a “splendid production”. George Wallace in his first outing in legit on a Sydney stage, came in for his share of plaudits when they said he was an “extremely diverting and original comedian”, although qualified it with the thought that “he overstayed his welcome as times”. It’s also interesting to note they commented on the difference in the dramatic material between the tryout season and the commercial production, and “how important it is for Australian authors and composers to have their works produced on a professional stage if they are to develop and learn”.

Members of the Collts’ Inn company arriving in Sydney, 1934: Fred Quintrell, Mr. and Mrs. Claude Flemming, Tom Holt, Marshall Crosbie, Bryl Walkley & Robert Chisholm. Photo by Sam Hood.

State Library of New South Wales, Sydney

Following the Sydney run, the show returned to Melbourne where it played a further four weeks at the Princess (13/10/34). The Age this time said the show was a “musical romance of power and excellent atmosphere”, and that the audience “will carry away many lilting and tuneful refrains”. The Argus (26/10/34) called it a “success” and said it “satisfies as no ‘Rose Marie’ or ‘Lilac Time’ can”. They said one of the best songs was the rollicking “A Laugh and a Kiss”, and thought “Stay While the Stars are Shining” would be a hit. But the praise was qualified with, “The words of the song, “Australia”, which, unfortunately closes the show, are commonplace to the point of banality”. The same cast played in both seasons in Melbourne and Sydney, but on the return Melbourne engagement Robert Chisholm left after 26 October to fulfil commitments abroad.

F.W. Thring, 1934. Photo by Sam Hood.

State Library of New South Wales, Sydney

Program cover for F.W. Thring’s 1934 production of Varney Monk’s The Cedar Tree

Peter Pinne collection

The following year F.W. Thring under his Efftee Attractions umbrella produced another Varney Monk historical romance musical, The Cedar Tree. Gladys Moncrieff was back to star, and this time her co-stars were Alfred Frith, Russell Scott, and Claude Flemming, who also handled direction. The behind-the-scenes team, were the same as Collits’ Inn, Jennie Brenan was choreographer, helped by Mollie Radcliffe, with Fred Quintrell as musical director.

(left) The Cedar Tree broadcast - 29 December 1934. From Wireless Weekly, 28 December 1934. (right) Alfred Frith in The Cedar Tree - as seen by cartoonist Stanley Parker. From Table Talk, 31 January 1935, p.16

This time Monk worked with Helen Barclay who wrote the lyrics, and Barclay’s husband, Edmund, a well-known ABC scriptwriter, who worked on the book. The story was set in Colonial days in the timber country around Parramatta and the Hawkesbury river. Once again the heroine, Daniella Weston (Moncrieff), is loved by two men, Lieutenant Verners (Russell Scott), a Captain of the Queen’s Regiments, and Roger Carstairs (Claude Flemming), a rich Sydney merchant. Drama was provided by Weston’s dissolute brother and comedy by the Flying Pieman (Frith), a role based on a real-life character at the time in the Hawskbury district.

The Age (24/12/34) called it “delightful”, and The Argus (24/12/34), “pleasant entertainment” with praise for the score going to “Coo-ee” an echo song, “How I Love You”, a ballad, and the title tune. Although critical reaction was good, audiences were not. The show played a seven-week season at the Princess Theatre, before transferring to the Criterion Theatre, Sydney, where it opened at a matinee. Even with The Sydney Morning Herald (17/3/35) claiming it was a “fine Australian play” with “beautiful music and singing”, it could only manage a dismal two-week run.

A “live” performance of The Cedar Tree was broadcast by the ABC direct from the Princess Theatre, Melbourne, seven days after the opening.

In February 1936 Thring announced plans to film Collits’ Inn with production supposed to start in Sydney in early April 1936. Thring by that stage had become disillusioned with film production in Melbourne and was moving his headquarters to Sydney, joining forces with Mastercraft Film Corporation. He left Sydney on 4 March for Hollywood to engage a director and actors. He returned on 19 June and was immediately hospitalized in Melbourne where he died two weeks later on 1 July 1936.

Thring’s death was a big blow for the Australian stage industry and film production. Although Varney Monk continued to compose and was published, she never again had a professional staging of either of these musicals.

On Saturday 16 October 1943, ABC Radio, Sydney, produced Collits’ Inn with the Sydney Symphony Orchestra, conducted by J. Farnsworth Hall, in a production by Lawrence H. Cecil, and on 29 April 1948, ABC Radio, Adelaide, produced a truncated version of the musical with the Adelaide Light Orchestra and Adelaide Singers conducted by William Cade. Mary Collitts was played by soprano, Kathleen Glasonbury, Captain Lake by Fred Williamson, Pierce Collits by bass-baritone, Boyd Dawkins, Robert Keane by baritone Ian McMutrie, and Dandy Dick was Alec Reagan. Norman Shephard , who was in the original Princess Theatre cast playing one of Keane’s followers, was the director.

Program cover for the 1951 revival of Collits’ Inn by the Mosman Musical Society

Peter Pinne collection

Program cover for the 2007 Victorian Concert Orchestra revival

Frank Van Straten collection

In 1951 there was a flurry of activity again for the Commonwealth Jubilee Celebration. ABC Radio produced Collits’ Inn as one of a series of musical comedies played by the ABC Melbourne Augmented Dance Band and Wireless Singers, conducted by MacDuff Williams. Grace Penman was Mary Collits, Eric Michelson was Captain Lake, John [AKA Jon] Weaving was Robert Keane, Syd Hollister was Dandy Dick, with Margaret Mouchemore as Mistress Dale. Others in the cast included; William Laird, Douglas Kelly, Lorna Forbes, Herbert Browne, Cyril Gardiner, George Randall, and Stewart Ginn.

This production generated many Letters to the Editor in The ABC Weekly, regarding Australian composition on radio, (the Government had recently decreed all Australian stations were compelled to broadcast Australian compositions amounting to 2 ½ per cent of their programming time. The ABC broadcasts about 3 ½ per cent), and Monk’s authorship of Collits’ Inn. Tom Stuart Gurr came to his co-author’s defence: “Only Pierce Collits was historical. Every other character in the play lived only in my imagination, although there are people in the Valley who still point to the cave where outlaw Robert Keane had his hideout.”

Later on 20 July 1951, the Mosman Musical Society presented the show for 10 performances, with Rhonnda Baker, John Young, Lenn Leslie, Cec Mackensie and Gaynor Mitchell. Len Gotting was the producer, musical director was Herbert Wyall, and Desmonde Downey did the sets. The Sydney Morning Herald said it was “a remarkable lively and elaborate revival of Varney Monk’s Australian musical play… John Young, using his strong baritone to advantage is the best of the singers…Rhondda Baker is an attractive heroine…Cec. Mackenzie and Gaynor Mitchell handle the comedy with plenty of verve”.

Monk added a new song to the score for Dandy Dick and Sally, “The Man With the Cabbage Tree Hat”, which replaced the George Wallace written “Dangerous Dandy Dick”, and “How I Love You”, the hit song from The Cedar Tree, replaced Charles Zwar’s “They’re In Love”. The production generated a radio commercial which contained a vocal version of “How I Love You”.

There was another amateur production in 1951 at Sydney Boys’ High School, two in 1963 at St. Mary’s Memorial Hall, Epping, NSW, and two in 1970, one at Canowinda Community Centre, and Campbelltown High School.

On 23 March 1957, the musical was produced at the original Collits’ Inn, at Hartley Vale, near Lithgow, NSW.

The most recent production of the musical was on 25 March 2007, at the Army Drill Hall, Melbourne, Victoria, when Jonathan Harvey produced “Scenes from Collits’ Inn in a Concert Performance”. Jane O’Toole, stepped into the shoes of Gladys Moncrieff as Mary Collits, Matthew Davine became Captain John Lake, Ian Cousins was Robert Keane, and Sue Braatveldt was Mistress Dale. A selection of nine scenes skillfully told the story with linking material handled by veteran actor, Charles “Bud” Tingwell. Script was by Peter Wyllie Johnston, accompaniment by the Victorian Concert Orchestra, conducted by Joannes Roose.

Collits’ Inn wasn’t the first Australian book musical, that honor goes to Ella Airlie’s, The Bunyip which was originally written in 1908 but not performed as a musical until 1916, but it was the first bonafide hit. It paved the way for a flurry of Australian musical theatre activity in the thirties, (Blue Mountain Melody, The Cedar Tree, The Beloved Vagabondand Flame of Desire), not matched until the end of the century when The Boy From Oz, Priscilla Queen of the Desertand Muriel’s Wedding, started the ball rolling again.

Chappell & Co Ltd became publishers of both shows and published two songs from each, “Last Year” (1943) and “Australia” (1946), from Collits’ Inn, “Coo-ee” (1946) and the title song from The Cedar Tree (1946). W.H. Paling & Co. Ltd, had published Varney Monk’s original version of “Some Distant Day” in 1929.

The first commercial recording from Collits’ Inn was a version of “Last Year” by The Melody Men with piano, (78rpm) recorded 14 May 1943 (RZ G-24752) and then later in 1988,a 2-LP record compilation set called, “Gladys Moncrieff Sings Musical Comedy and Operetta” (EMI EMC430062), was released with Moncrieff and Chisholm singing their duet, “Stay While the Stars Are Shining”. This was taken from an optical film recording of songs from the show made with the original cast. For years it was thought this recording was made for the film version, but as it contains the song, “My Desire” which never made it into the professional production, it was most likely recorded during rehearsals for the original professional production before the song was cut.

The complete optical film recording included:

1. “Collits’ Inn” – Claude Fleming & Gladys Moncrieff

2. “Road Song” – Claude Flemming & Gladys Moncreiff & Unknown Bass

3. “Drinking Song” – Unknown Bass

4. “Making Memories” – Gladys Moncreiff

5. “Next Year” – Gladys Moncrieff & Robert Chisholm

6. “Outlaw’s Song” – Claude Flemming

7. “Duddawarra River” – Gladys Moncrieff

8. “Stay While the Stars Are Shining” – Gladys Moncrieff & Robert Chisholm

9. “Sweet William” – Bryl Walkley

10. “Australia” – Robert Chisholm & Gladys Moncreff

11. “Some Distant Day”– Robert Chisholm (a song reassigned to Mary Collits – Gladys Moncrieff – in Act 3)

12. “Last Year” – Gladys Moncrieff

13. “Stay While the Stars Are Shining” (Reprise) – Robert Chisholm & Gladys Monfrieff

14. “Collits’ Inn Orchestral Finale” (final cymbal crash)

15. “Collits’ Inn Orchestra Finale” (final drum beat)

Dance music

My Desire - Robert Chisholm

“Some Distant Day” (78rpm) Columbia DO 2946 (1929)

“Scenes from Collits’ Inn” DVD Concert Cast (2007)

In 1990 Currency Press published the playscript of the show with leadlines of all of the music that had been located at the time. Missing were the songs, “A Laugh and a Kiss”, “Dangerous Dandy Dick”, and “They’re In Love”, which have since been found in Monk’s papers at the National Library, Canberra. No music has been found for, “Some Distant Day.”

In the 1970s Peter Burgis NFSA, conducted an oral history interview with Rene Maxwell, who played Mary Collits in Natalie Rosenwax’s 1932 production. The interview is held in the National Library in Canberra. No commercial recordings are known of this artist, but she was a guest artist on the radio program, The Show of Shows, Episode 11, recorded November 1941, published by AWA (16 inch disc). She sings “Lilac Domino” and Make Believe”. She starred in Australia in the original production of The Lilac Domino.

“Last Year” was sung by Monda Lenz, in The Australia Show No. 4 (a Humphrey Bishop production, 16-inch AWA disc). Monda was a singer with an army entertainment unit. An oral history with her is held by the Australian War Memorial. It is available on the internet.

Also available on the internet is a radio program called “Four Australian Musicals” produced in Perth in 1966, narrated by Glen Menzies. It discusses Collits’ Inn and includes the voice and piano playing of Varney Monk.

Bibliography

Collits’ Inn: a romantic Australian operetta by T. Stuart Gurr; with lyrics and music by Varney Monk; edited with an intoduction by John West, Currency Press in association with Australasian Drama Studies, 1990

Jean Devanny, Bird of Paradise, Frank Johnson, 1945

Newspapers.com

Philip Parsons, Companion to Theatre in Australia, Currency Press/Cambridge University Press, 1995

Peter Pinne & Peter Whyllie Johnston, The Australian Musical from the Beginning, Allen & Unwin, 2019

Peter Pinne, Australian Performers, Australian Performances, Performing Arts Museum, Victorian Arts Centre, 1987

Eric Read, History and Heartburn, Harper & Row, 1979

John Thomson, “It’s Australian – and It’s Good”, National Library Australia Magazine, December 2003

Trove

John West, Theatre In Australia, Cassell Australia Limited, 1978

Original Theatre Programs, The Age, The Argus, The Sydney Morning Herald

Acknowledgments

Special thanks to Peter Burgis and Rob Morrison for their help in this revision

‘Wirelessenthusiasm is on the wane in Britain and America, and quite a number of small manufacturers are closing down,’ announced Mr. G. Watson, electrical engineer, in an interview with The Sydney Morning Herald on 10 November 1923, following his return to Australia on the good ship Mongolia, after an overseas business trip.

A week earlier, a new Australian company called Broadcasters (Sydney) Ltd, advertised the start of the first local radio service from their studio in the Smith’s Weekly Building, Phillip Street, Sydney.

Broadcasters boasted ‘bedtime stories for the children, talks on housekeeping hints and Parisian fashion for ladies, racing and business reports for men, jazz evenings for young folk.’ Best of all it promised that ‘listeners-in’ would hear the Dungowan Jazz Orchestra and live performances from the Tivoli Theatre.

Radio 2SB (later 2BL) planned to be on air from 10am to 10pm, six days a week, available free to city, suburb and country. Set down for 15 November, this historic first Australian broadcast was delayed until 23 November 1923.

Gladys Moncrieff in A Southern Maid, with Mione Stewart (left) and Nellie Payne (right). Photographer unknown. National Library of Australia, Canberra.

A bounder in the wings

Broadcasters (Sydney) Ltd had competition in the form of Farmer & Company, major merchants occupying large premises fronting Pitt, Market and George Streets (now Myer), with studios in the Roof Garden atop their imposing building. A newspaper advertisement (The Sydney Morning Herald, 29 October 1923) heralded the arrival of Farmer’s Wireless Broadcasting Service, due to start radiating test transmissions from 5 December under the banner 2FC.

Program highlights were to include weather predictions, race results, stockyard market reports, quotations from the Sydney Stock Exchange and updates on latest fashion decrees from Paris, London and New York (Farmer’s sold heaps of clothing and haberdashery).

Most importantly, there would be entertainments from the theatre circuits of J.C.Williamson Ltd and J.& N.Tait.

In the first week of 1924 it was reported that ‘experiments had been conducted from the stage of Sydney’s Her Majesty’s Theatre, involving the placement of microphones which collected the sound and conveyed it to an amplifying panel which “stepped-up” the volume before carrying the sound by landline to Farmer’s wireless studio in Pitt Street, whence it was conveyed by another special land line to the big station 2FC at Willoughby (inner North Shore), from whence it was radiated by wireless’ (The Sydney Morning Herald, 7 January 1924).

On Saturday afternoon (5 January 1924) a complete matinée of A Southern Maid was transmitted experimentally, with every word being heard quite clearly. Laughter followed each joke was also heard as was the shrill call of ‘Ice cream blocks and chocolates’ during the interval.
Without speeches and formalities, Farmer’s 2FC officially opened on the evening of Wednesday, 9 January, when a complete evening performance of A Southern Maid was broadcast from the stage of Her Majesty’s Theatre.

A tense moment at the Cafe del Santiago as Sebastian (Robert Chisholm) and Francesco Del Fuego (Claude Flemming) confront Sir Willoughby Rawdon (Howett Worster) with daggers drawn, while Doloes (Glady Moncrieff) looks on apprehensively. (Chisholm subsequently took over the role of Rawdon for the Sydney season.)

The event was a great success, with listeners ‘enjoying the clear sound of voices and orchestra, often accompanied by the rustling of programs in the front stalls and the subdued hum of the audience during interval’.

The presentation started with a general call from the 2FC announcer, followed by a peal of chimes rung on tubular bells, to allow listeners to tune their station reception accurately. After the chimes the announcer gave an introductory talk about A Southern Maid, timed to conclude as the theatre overture commenced. At the end of the show 2FC closed for the night, staff turned off the lights and went home—an exacting task well done.

José Collins, who created the role of Dolores in A Southern Maid in England.

Elisabeth Kumm collection

Dolores (José Collins) with Claude Flemming as Sir Willoughby. From Play Pictorial, no. 220, 1920.

 

The Maid

A Southern Maid (the local press often called it ‘The...’) was an English musical play, sometimes called a stage musical, or a musical comedy, or an operetta. The book was by Dion Clayton Calthrop, most of the music was composed by Harold Fraser-Simson, with lyrics by Harry Graham, Douglas Furber and Adrian Ross.

The show first tried out in Manchester on Christmas Eve, 1917, and had its London début on 15 May 1920 at Daly’s Theatre, where it ran for 306 performances. The Daly’s cast included José Collins, Ernest Bertram, Gwendoline Brogden, Mark Lester, Dorothy Monkman, Lionel Victor, Bertram Wallis, William Spray and Australia’s Claude Flemming (playing Sir Willoughby Rawdon).

In Australian Performers—Australian Performances (1987) Peter Pinne gives the following summary of the plot: ‘The story is set in South America, about a young Englishman who inherits a plantation and falls in love with a Spanish beauty, to the rage of the Vendetta chief, who has sworn to kill him for oppressive measures alleged to have been practised by his father’.

Cover of program for Sydney season, 1923

 

Sheet music cover, with photo of Glady Moncrieff as Dolores

National Library of Australia, Canberra

A Manchester press critic wrote: ‘A Southern Maid is a better piece than The Maid of the Mountains. She is a gorgeous creature, but as full of contradictions as the most provoking of her sex. She lures one into the belief that her end is to be as dramatic as Carmen’s—and suddenly decides to live “happily ever after”; she revels in a wealth of music which is strangely reminiscent; she has scenes and situations which, if one did not see last week, one saw the week before, and will probably see the week after next. And yet, while one realises that all this has been done before, it is impossible to do else but succumb to the wonderful glamour of the maid herself.’

He was talking of José Collins, whereas a few years later, Australian critics would be heaping accolades on our own Southern Maid, Gladys Moncrieff.

Cast list from Sydney season, 1923/24

J.C.Williamson’s premiered A Southern Maid at the Theatre Royal in Melbourne on 27 January 1923. It opened at Her Majesty’s in Sydney on 27 October 1923, with a cast including Gladys Moncrieff, Robert Chisholm, Arthur Stigant, Fred Coape, William Perryman, Clarice Hardwicke, John Forde and Reginald Purdell. Andrew MacCunn was musical director and Oscar Asche was producer; he had also produced the original London production.

Recordings

There were no facilities in Australia in 1924 to allow the recording of a stage show. However, Gladys Moncrieff did record two songs from A Southern Maid for the Vocalion label around 4 September 1924, during her first visit to London.The titles were ‘Love’s Cigarette’ and ‘Dark Grows The Sky’. Many copies were sold in Australia.

Claude Flemming, one of our most distinguished actor-singers, recorded only three song titles during a 50 year career, and they were all from A Southern Maid. They were ‘I Want The Sun And The Moon,’ ‘The Call Of The Sea’ and ‘Here’s To Those We Love’. The recording session took place at London’s Columbia studios on about 3 July 1920.

These discs were deleted from Columbia’s catalogue in 1924 and remain hard to find. The good news is that these five acoustically recorded 78s allow us, with a little imagination, to re-create some of the atmosphere of the historic 2FC broadcast.

Cast of A Southern Maid, Melbourne, 1923. Photo by Talma, Melbourne. National Library of Australia, Canberra.

Public reaction

At the time the 2FC broadcast took place (9 January 1924) there were only a few hundred listeners with licences. By the end of June 1924 only 1400 licences had been taken out across Australia. It seemed likely that the listening audience on 9 January would not have filled Her Majesty’s Theatre.

Despite the small audience, however, press reports from land and sea were complimentary. One ship’s captain advised that he sat glued to his seat listening to the Her Majesty’s show while operating a trading vessel some 2800 miles from Sydney.

Equally enthused was the skipper of Karoola, moored at a Fremantle wharf. A glowing report also came from Mr. E.P.Simpson, owner of the racing yacht Mistral II, who listened to the broadcast in his ‘cosy cabin’, while anchored at La Perouse. He told The Sydney Morning Herald on 15 February that, ‘The clearness with which the voices are thrown into the cabin (by a speaker) is absolutely uncanny; it fires one’s imagination, and prompts one to be less sceptical with regard to problems that now seem to be ridiculous—just as ridiculous as the present feats accomplished by wireless would have appeared thirty years ago.’

Warming to his subject, the yachtsman added, ‘Man is really a wonderful animal, constantly probing the secrets of the universe and of those that so far have been discovered, wireless results seem to me to be the most fascinating and astonishing.’

Pass me the rum!

Not everyone was happy with the arrival of radio, however. The Sydney Morning Herald for 19 December 1924 carried a piece headlined ‘Too Much Wireless—Teacher’s Warning… Speaking at the annual prize distribution of St Aloysius’ College, the Rev. L. Murphy (Prefect of Studies) said that he wished to warn parents against the abuse of the radio by their boys. We are not blind to its advantages,’ he said, ‘but we have noticed a serious deterioration in the work of the boys who have wireless installations. The tendency is for these boys to leave the classrooms at the earliest possible moment, and to give no thought to their studies while away from school.’

The Rev. Murphy made no mention if any of these young hooligans had been found with photos of Gladys Moncrieff in their lockers.

Happy ending

How should we remember this unique occasion? In my wild erratic fancy visions come to me of a city, bush and sea fold clustered around the new-fangled wireless, wide-eyed, bushy tailed and all ears.

My dream includes the skipper of the schooner at La Perouse, the grazier from the Braidwood backblocks, the master mariner in Fremantle, a sundowner in remote Nyngan, and the ship’s captain ploughing through the Tasman Sea. Each tuned in to Our Glad and company, as musical history was made on the stage of Sydney’s Her Majesty’s Theatre on the evening of Wednesday, 9 January 1924.

Program cover for Sybil, Sydney, 1924

 

Gladys Moncrieff as Sybil

 

Addendum

With its broadcast of A Southern MaidSydney’s 2FC scooped Melbourne’s new 3LO by nine months with a first live stage presentation. Live broadcasts of The Merry Widow and Sybil followed. 3LO came on air on 13 October 1924 with a blockbuster: Melba’s farewell performance of La Bohème, from the stage of His Majesty’s Theatre, Melbourne.

2FC followed up this historic broadcast with another stage musical broadcast the following month when on 12 February 1924 they broadcast several acts of Sybil from Sydney’s Her Majesty’s Theatre. The cast included Gladys Moncrieff and Claude Flemming. Press reports of a clear transmission came in from afar as Gosford and New Zealand.

Claude Flemming (1884-1952) had a long and distinguished stage career with success on Broadway and the West End. His personality and distinct voice are preserved on a number of film clips which are available on Youtube. Check Cross Roads from 1931. Claude can also be heard narrating on a 1931 colour educational movie short entitled Peasants’ Paradise(‘Romantic Journeys’) on Youtube, a venture into German history and culture.His Australian stage appearances include Collits’ Inn (1933-1934) with Gladys Moncrieff and Annie Get Your Gun (1947-1950) with Evie Hayes.

It should be noted that A Southern Maid included additional music by Ivor Novello and George Clutsam. Clutsam was an Australian, having been born in Sydney in 1866. He was arguably the first Australian born composer to gain international recognition.

For further information on the history of Australian broadcasting and its pioneer actors, actresses, musicians, writers and producers I recommend the Australian Old Time Radio website.

Prepared with help from, and thanks to, Frank Van Straten.

Audio

A Southern Maid

• The Call of the Sea (Graham & Fraser-Simson) – Claude Flemming - (Col. F-1054 or 74126)
• I Want the Sun and the Moon (Furber & Novello) – José Collins & Claude Flemming - (Col. F-1054 or 74127)
• Here's to Those We Love (Ross & Fraser-Simson) – Claude Flemming - (Col. F-1055 or 74128)

         (with Daly’s Theatre Orchestra conducted by Merlin Morgan)

(The original 1920 London cast recordings released on Columbia records have been reissued on CD by Dominic Combe, who may be This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. for further information.)

• Love’s Cigarette (Ross & Fraser-Simson) – Gladys Moncrieff - (Vocalion X-9486)
• Dark Grows the Sky (Graham & Fraser-Simson) – Gladys Moncrieff - (Vocalion X-9486)

         (with The Aeolian Orchestra)

Sybil

• I Am the Captain of the Crimson Hussars (Jacobi, Graham & Smith) – Gladys Moncrieff - (Vocalion S-105)
• The Letter Song (Jacobi, Graham & Smith) – Gladys Moncrieff & Robert Chisholm - (Vocalion S-105)

         (with The Aeolian Orchestra)

Film

Australiasian Gazette 1924 - “Spanish” Sydney

The opening scenes of this newsreel show Gladys Moncrieff and Claude Flemming in their costumes for A Southern Maid in various “Spanish” locations around Sydney.

PETER BURGIS: born Parkes, NSW,  1936. Performing arts historian,  author, and sound archivist, concentrating on activities of Australians on record prior to 1960.  Employed at the Centre for Advancement of Teaching,  Macquarie University, 1972-1974; founder and director of the National Library of Australia’s sound archive, 1974-1984 and the National Film & Sound Archive, 1984-1989.  Recipient of inaugural ARIA Jack Davey Pater Award for professional  excellence in the broadcasting arts and science  (1984). Founding chairman of Australian Country Music Foundation & Museum, Tamworth, 1989-1993. Starting in 1970 has conducted over 150 oral history interviews with Australian musicians, entertainers and composers. Vice-president of the International Association of Sound Archives, 1981-1987 and chairman of the Australian branch, 1979-1984. Has produced or contributed to over 500 sound recordings of reissues of historic Australian sounds. Co-author of “Peter Dawson (The World’s Most Popular Baritone)”, Currency Press, 2001, and “Tex Morton: From Australian Yodeler to International Showman”, The University of Tennessee Press,  2023. Currently preparing a discography of Australians who recorded in the acoustic period.

PREVIOUS ARTICLES published in On Stage: include:

• “Thanks For The Memory” (2GB Musical Comedy Theatre,  8/1 & 8/2)
• “Welcome ‘Mr. C’ ”  (Finlay Currie in Australia,  13/2)
• “Voices of the Past: Kathleen Lafla” ,  9/4)
• “The Fabulous Friedmans” (Jake Friedman)  9/3
• “Bless ‘Em All” (Fred Godfrey)   9/3
• “Starring John Barrymore, Gregory Peck, and Roland Hogue”   11/3
• “Probing the Proboscis” (Nosey tunes)   7/3
• “I’ve Been Everywhere (Or Have I)”    6/2

The Hole of the Truth …

It is the unrehearsed comedy and drama of the theatre that the audience never sees that gives the job behind the scenes its fascination. One becomes absorbed to the exclusion of everything else in the rush and scramble of a scene change, especially during a blackout, for example, when the stage is in complete darkness.

On the opening night of Annie Get Your Gun (1948), Claude Flemming, who starred as Buffalo Bill and had an exaggerated fear of heights, even at the slightly absurd height of six or seven feet, always wanted a helping hand. The finale of Annie was a cloth with two painted horses, one on each side. A hole was cut above each horse and reinforced to carry a saddle, etc. One side was for Buffalo Bill, the other was for Pawnee Bill. On the other side of the cut there was a platform and each Bill, when on his platform, cocked a leg over the saddle and put a foot into the stirrup. On the platform for Buffalo Bill was also another foothold, plus a hand-grip to be held by the hand not holding the reins. To make assurance double sure, one of the stagehands had hold of one of Flemming’s arms, off stage. Shades of Buffalo Bill …!

This finale was set after a blackout of the previous scene. If you have never seen an 18 foot high by 6 foot wide flat handled by one man, you would be amazed to see one of these flats folded, then man-handled off the stage and thrown against the wall into what is known as a pack. On this particular night, one of these flats did not quite make the wall in the blackout. It overbalanced away from the wall and naturally, fell back onto the stage. A piece of scenery of such dimensions does not fall quickly but it falls quite sufficiently hard enough to do some damage when it makes contact. Very unhappily the contact turned out to be Pawnee Bill’s head, and he was knocked out. There was not time to bring him round—and it was too near the end to consider dropping the curtain. So the unlucky actor was carted up the steps onto his platform to take his place on his steed.

His inert leg was manipulated over the saddle, his foot placed in the stirrup and his hands on the reins. Supported by stagehands this gave some semblance of being in the show, although he was still unconscious. Buffalo Bill was of course being held, because of his phobia about heights, on the horse across the way at the other side of the cloth.

Annie Get Your Gun: Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show

Theatre Heritage Australia

Claude Flemming as Buffalo Bill in Annie Get Your Gun

National Library of Australia, Canberra

Program for Annie Get Your Gun

Theatre Heritage Australia

Another incident concerning flats happened during a scene change. These flats are held together, that is, one to another, by toggle and line. At the top of one flat is attached a length of sash cord and on the same place on the flat that is to be joined is a piece of 4 inch by 1 inch square timber with the top cut away, so that the sash-line when flicked into the mouth, is held and pulled tight, at the same time clamping up the two flats. The two flats are held approximately 6 to 8 inches apart. The sash-line is then flicked up and if luck is with you its loop falls into the mouth of the toggle. It is by no means easy to accomplish this and as a matter of fact it requires a sleight of hand only achieved after a lot of practice. On this particular night a man was being given instructions how to achieve this—but he was having no success at all and time was running out. The man in charge, made careless by impatience, put his head between the flats in an attempt to discover what was causing the holdup. Then of course the unexpected did happen. The new man threw again, and this time he made contact—the line was at last in the toggle. Having everything in line to close up, he happily pulled the line and the two flats came—or rather should have come—together.

Full of pride in his accomplishment, he gazed upwards, quite unaware that the unfortunate mechanist’s head was still between the flats. He pulled harder, and the harder he pulled the nearer he came to choking the poor man. When the mechanist was finally set free, the stage hand had to listen to some very choice things about himself.

Skidmore Ranch

Miles Kenyon collection

Back of Laurey’s Farmhouse

Miles Kenyon collection

The person who enjoys more importance and usually gets his way about most things on the stage is the producer.  Some have more suitability and ability than others. In Oklahoma (1949) there was a ballet scene consisting of a simple cut-cloth of trees. It was my opinion that this would certainly need framing after it had been cut out. The mechanist had objected ‘Aw, we don’t want to frame it—it’s such a ruddy nuisance when it has to travel.’ This was strictly true—all the 3-ply has to come off and be tacked on again before the next opening. I was sure, however, that the producer would not wish to see the trees waving about, as they certainly would, with the action of the dancers weaving in and out of them. Ted Hammerstein (cousin to Oscar Hammerstein II and Stage Manager on the original Broadway production) came to produce the show. We showed him all the scenery and we were very gratified when he told us it measured up to anything he had seen anywhere. ‘There is just one thing,’ he said. ‘I would like to have the tree cut-cloth framed.’ The mechanist said we never did such things—it wasn’t done! This was sheer pig-headedness. ‘Okay!’ agreed the director. So all through the week the cast rehearsed the scene.

It has always been the custom to check all scenes and props on the Saturday morning of the opening at night. It is routine to go through everything backwards, as the set for the last scene is the opening scene ready for the show at night. On this particular Saturday the procedure was unvaried and the mechanist had just dismissed the stage staff, telling them they were free until they were due back at 7.30 pm. Just then a voice came from the stalls—‘Charlie, I want the cut-cloth framed.’ There was no argument—it was framed: but it took until late Saturday afternoon to do it.

A Grove on Laurey’s Farm

Miles Kenyon collection

The Smokehouse

Miles Kenyon collection

I had redesigned sets for a well-known imported actor. Because they were unlike those he had worked with overseas, he threw a tantrum and became very disagreeable indeed. The scenes were set up. Then Edward J. Tait and Harald Bowden, director and manager, along with myself, looked at the sets from the stalls. No one spoke. It was left to Mr. Tait to make the opening gambit. He took up the challenge and asked ‘Well, what about it?’ The actor, with quite a degree of petulance snapped that they were not the same as he had had in the London production. He was then asked what difference did that make? He made no reply. ‘Well,’ said E.J. Tait. ‘I think they are most attractive.’ Then the actor found his voice ‘They are too attractive—I couldn’t act in front of them.’ Actually, he really did have a point there—no scenery should be so intrusive as to draw attention away from the actors. It is a cardinal sin for it to assert itself. This is one of the hard and fast rules which a set designer must obey.

I recall an instance where a certain actor was discovered to be seeking an excuse for a project of his own. It emerged after a few days when he brought one of Sydney’s women painters to check on my painting for a show whose title now totally eludes me. We did not see eye to eye on anything—we completely disagreed on technique—and the result led to something of an altercation. When people lose their temper with me I cannot resist the impulse to grin at them. It has never had much of a calming effect on anyone.

This particular actor stamped his foot on the stage and shouted ‘I’m the boss and I’ll have things the way I want them!’ I told him he could most certainly have his own way, and at the same time take a ‘running jump in the lake’. Up to the office he rushed to make his complaint to management. I went back to the paint room and went on with the job. Some time later I heard a voice calling me from the stage. I looked down through the cut in the floor and saw E.J. Tait: his exact words were ‘You alright, George?’ ‘I’m fine,’ I answered, and I felt fine—hearing his voice and sensing the warmth in it. ‘Well, never mind … (naming the actor) he’s here today and gone tomorrow. We hope that you will be with us for a long time.’ That is the kind of attitude which inspires the people of the theatre to go all out to do their best in this strange industry. It is so unlike any other that an occasional boost to one’s ego is most welcome.

My ego was not always uplifted by happenings in the theatre—sometimes entirely the opposite occurred and I was very badly deflated. On one occasion I had been called into consultation with the management of an Italian Opera Company about the forthcoming season. During discussions of matters pertaining to the scenery, I was always referred to as ‘il scena artista’—which seemed alright to me. So I designed and painted the sets for their two operas and they were duly performed. This was a private job. I sent in my account but after a few weeks had gone by and nothing had happened, I heard from somebody that a meeting was to be held at the Princess Theatre. Hoping that I could get some finality from the directors, I wandered up to the foyer just before the meeting was due to commence. Alas! The atmosphere had lost its warmth—there were no nods and becks and wreathed smiles and murmurs of ‘il scena artista’. Instead, I distinctly heard a ‘stage whisper’ from someone ‘Look out—here comes the bloody painter.’ However, eventually I was paid.

Although there was a job for which I never did receive just payment. This happened when I did some work for a certain religious sect. I was approached concerning this job by a very well-known singer who had sung in opera overseas. I was asked if I would handle the production of a show, celebrating the centenary of this Order. I made my estimate of the cost, but was told that it was quite out of the question. Couldn’t I suggest a much cheaper way of doing things, thereby reducing the cost? At length after a lot of talk it was decided that instead of using expensive canvas we would make the ‘cloths’ out of brown paper. The two men I had with me got busy on the stage and glued lengths of brown paper together. There were at least six of them, plus a painted scrim. This was depicting a decorative frame of angels and cupids and so on. In regard to the financial aspect of the job it was arranged that my assistants were to be paid on a weekly basis, rent of the paint room was also to be charged and I was to receive a percentage of the takings on each of the three nights the show was to run. The show actually had its season extended to six nights, because the whole show was such a huge success!

But the first night almost ended in tragedy. In those days lighting, in what is now the Metro Theatre in Collins Street, Melbourne (see note below) was not all that could be desired. Hanging, as part of the general lighting, was a naked 1000 Watt globe, a working-light for the stage. There were tiers of seating across the back wall of the stage, crammed with children. The screen, on which was a portrait of the Founder of the Order, was hanging there, until the concert was due to start. It was then rolled up like a verandah blind. Unfortunately the rolled-up screen came in contact with the 1000 Watt globe and the inevitable happened—it  caught fire. At first the two hundred children just made frightened noises—but these soon swelled to panicked screaming. They left their seats and milled around the stage in a yelling mob. All hell broke loose! I shouted instructions in a voice rivalling a sergeant major in the Irish Watch... They could not even hear me. In any case we had enough trouble getting the burning screen and the painted scrim down and off the stage. When they were halfway down the house curtains parted slightly and the audience saw the fire for the first time. I grabbed the fabric and pulled them closed. I got singed a little and lost some hair as the burning screens came level with me. Somehow we got a clear passage from the stage to the back and at last smothered the fire although the screens were completely ruined. After the show we worked all night painting a new show curtain and it was hung ready for the following performance. The offending lamp was removed. There had been no protests from the Fire Brigade and the six performances showed ‘House Full’ every night. The theatre was given free, and nothing was charged for the management— actually expenses were very few. Six shows must have shown a very handsome profit.  I received a cheque for 25 pounds. My estimate was 125 pounds. Well, one lives and occasionally learns.

Metro Theatre, Collins Street, 1935

171 Collins Street, Melbourne

Courtesy 171 Collins Street

Evelyn Laye and her husband Frank Lawton first played in Melbourne in a show called September Tide (1951). In the play they lived above a boat-house and at the end of Act 1 Lawton was to go through a trap in the stage down to the boat-house below—the carpenters were busy cutting the trap set-up. Evelyn rang me, asking me over to see her. Her first words were that she would buy me two double whiskies because she simply ‘adored the set’. It was her favourite colour—but she said, ‘Do look at the frock my dresser is holding—I bought it specially and it cost me such a lot of money.’ It was the exact colour and tone of the scenery: we repainted the set!

Evelyn Laye was beautiful, charming and the epitome of elegance and she spoke to all and sundry in her beautiful speaking voice. As she left the stage to go to her dressing-room, the boys having finished cutting the hole for the trap, it was a revelation, simply amazing, to hear a pure cockney voice saying ‘Blimey, what a bloody awful ’ole!’

Apropos another hole, Dion Boucicault was producing The Admirable Crichton at the King’s Theatre in Melbourne in 1926. He was always immaculate in black coat, striped trousers and spats. The effects for a thunderstorm were made up in the flies by means of cannon balls rolling down steps and onto a sheet of tin. Boucicault wanted the thunder louder so he called up to the property operator—one Bill Richards—‘A little louder Billy—do it again.’ It was done again but of course there was no control over the method and it sounded exactly the same as before.

‘No Billy, a little louder!’ But it was of no use. Dion left the stage and climbed up the steel-runged ladder attached to the side wall of the stage, and up through the floor of the flies. As he arrived at this hole, he poked his head through. ‘My God! What a dirty hole…’ and he came back down again.

Evelyn Laye in September Tide, 1951

National Library of Australia, Canberra

Dion Boucicault, 1925. Photo by Bertram Park.

From To Tell My Story by Irene Vanbrugh, Hutchinson & Co., 1948

A hole with a difference comes to mind.

During the filming of a comedy which took place on location, a haystack was to catch fire when the fire-engine dashed through it. The structure was merely a frame shell with wire netting, covered with straw. A props man was to saturate the interior with petrol, then make a trail to a safe distance so that he could throw a match from his end. This of course should happen just as the fire-engine emerged.

For some unknown reason this man lit the match whilst he was still in the ‘haystack’. Although he was making his trail through a hole left for that purpose, he was not prepared for the extra boost he got when the petrol exploded. He shot out so rapidly that he avoided being burnt but unfortunately, he also misjudged this timing. The fire-engine was too far away to give the desired effect and he was in the picture, being catapulted through the air!

Of course it had to be done again but the stack was a tangled mass of ashes and wire netting. To add to our troubles the clouds had started to bank up and blot out the sun. Also—it was Saturday afternoon and all the shops were shut. We needed extra straw for another haystack.

Going into town we discovered the owner of the hay and corn store was playing in the local cricket team and was batting. Hoping he would get out smartly, we just had to wait. He was caught out soon after and we persuaded him to open up his store to supply us with some bundles of straw. Back on location we rebuilt the haystack and the sun peeped through the clouds sufficiently enough for us to get the shot.

It was to a fire in a barn that the fire-engine was driven through the haystack—the firing of the actual barn on location was to be faked. A very careful detailed model was constructed of this building, complete inside as well as outside. This model was taken on location and positioned on cantilevered arms about six feet away from the camera. It was on a base, surrounded by old carts, fencing, etc. This merged into the distant landscape several hundred yards away. It was set on fire and filmed in slow motion. As the walls collapsed, the interior with horse-stalls and so on were seen, until it burned to the ground and we finally got the result that we desired.

George Kenyon at work at Her Majesty’s paint room

National Film and Sound Archive, Canberra

I had become very friendly with Mr. and Mrs. C.T. Lorenz of Sydney. Carl Lorenz had a flourishing business with shops—he was an optician and optometrist—in practically every suburb in Sydney. I had designed and fitted out for him a three storey shop, after gutting the original premises. The lower ground floor was for general examinations, etc., the next floor was for offices and the next housed the workshops.

Clarice Lorenz had bought a very large house at Bathurst. This rambling blue-stone mansion required some renovations—which I planned and had done for them. Wallpapers and carpets had been selected, with no emphasis on cost. Unfortunately an accident had happened to the wallpaper at one top corner in the master bedroom—water had entered from a blocked gutter and spoilt it completely. I got rid of the segment which had been ruined and patched up the blank space, not with the same costly wallpaper but by painting matching colours into the missing patch. It was remarkable how successful this was.

A very long and high corridor ran right through the house. Carl had arranged for a painter from Bathurst to come in and paint the ceiling. Leaving my room one morning on my way to breakfast, I came face to face with two very high trestles, topped with a narrow plank. An odd character who could have modelled for Fred in the ‘Right, said Fred’ comedy routine, was standing by the trestles surveying, in a contemplative fashion, a full four-gallon petrol-tin of paint. Wishing this character ‘Good morning’ I inquired if he really intended to take the tin up onto the plank—and a 9 inch plank at that. Regarding me sourly, he assured me that he had had many years of experience. ‘I know me job,’ he said, with an air of ‘And you can mind your own bloody business’. Shrugging aside my misgivings I continued on my way to breakfast. Several ghastly events came in quick sequence—as I sat down at the table the seat of the antique chair slipped and the end of my vertebrae, where the tail was once joined, scraped down the wood of the seat.

Shutting my eyes and shuddering while electric thrills were rushing round my body, I was subconsciously prepared for the unholy clatter and din which suddenly shattered the early morning silence. Clarice and I dashed out into the passage, to be confronted with a most horrifying (if not all that surprising) sight. Fred had maneuvered his full pot of paint up onto the plank, only for disaster to overtake him. He overbalanced, knocking over the tin, and four gallons of paint splashed onto the walls, forming a river of paint which crossed the fantastically expensive carpet and flowed to the door of the billiard room and into one of the bedrooms. It seemed incredible that a mere four gallons could cover so much space. There was only one redeeming feature to this stupid, stupid incident. It was a water-based paint and after many days and much labour, and with dozens of buckets of clean water, most of the paint was washed out of the carpet and off the walls.

It should be of interest to note here that Clarice Lorenz was the power and guiding force behind the forming and financing of the opera company in Sydney. She spent huge sums of money keeping opera going in Sydney, and was possibly the most persistent advocate responsible for the building of the Sydney Opera House. It is rather sad to have to state that nowhere will anyone be able to discover any evidence that her tremendous output of money and energy were in any way appreciated. Both Carl and Clarice Lorenz were musicians of concert standard and I felt highly privileged to attend a performance by Carl on his grand piano, accompanied by his wife on her harp. Together they made music of an enthralling quality.

NOTE: Melbourne’s first concert hall, the Auditorium, located at 171 Collins Street, opened in 1913. Built and managed by J. & N. Tait, the complex comprised an eight-story office building with a three-tiered performance space on the ground level. Though principally a venue for live concerts, it was also used for the screening of silent movies. By the 1934, under the management of MGM, the venue was remodelled into a ‘modern’ cinema and renamed the Metro Collins. In 1975, Greater Union took over the cinema and it became known as the Mayfair Theatre. This closed in 1982 and the space was remodelled as Figgins’ Diorama, an exclusive department store. This venture lasted only 19 months and another short-lived retail venture took over. In 2010, the building was demolished and the facade was incorportated into a new 17-story office development.