Emelie Polini

On 12 january 1918, the comedy Turn to the Right replaced The New Henrietta. Undoubtedly, one of the biggest hits at the Palace during 1917, it notched up a further five weeks on its revival. On Tuesday 29 January, to mark the 100th performance of the play in Australia, a pictorial souvenir was handed to all attendees. It was also noted in the press that with the close of the play actress Francee Anderson would be departing for America, with the intention of ‘working her way to New York’.¹

With the withdrawal of Turn to the Right, the Taits’ other major success, Peg o’ My Heart, was remounted. A large and enthusiastic audience welcomed back Sara Allgood, who ‘continued her remarkable success as Peg’, along with Gerald Henson as Jerry, Cecil Brooking as Alaric and Beatrice Yaldwyn as Ethel, and Gerald Kay Souper and Cyril Mackay as Montgomery Hawkes and Christian Brent. With the Easter pantomime season looming, Peg could only be played for two weeks.

Winifred La France in Aladdin

From The Theatre (Sydney), 1 October 1918, cover. Theatre Heritage Australia.

Bert Bailey as the Dame in Aladdin, as seen by the cartoonist Pas.

National Library of Australia, Canberra

On Saturday 9 March 1918, by arrangement with Bailey and Grant, the ‘Gorgeous Pantomime Extravaganza’ of Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp opened as the Easter attraction. Written by George Barry and George Slater, this production had premiered in Melbourne at the King’s Theatre in December. The show featured a strong line-up of talent, including Barry Lupino as Abanazar, Bert Bailey as the Dame, with Winifred La France (making her reappearance in Australia after several years abroad) as the principal boy and Olive Godwin as the principal girl. Other characters were played by Andrew Higginson, Fayette Perry and Zola Ferrell, the last-named the principal danseuse, specially engaged by Charles Tait in New York.

The opening night review in the Sydney Morning Herald (11 March 1918) provided the following observation:

Barry Lupino, as the comically disreputable Abanazar, and Bert Baily, as an elderly well-dressed village dame whose broad humour was held in check by a convincing assumption of feminine refinement successfully carried on the gaiety of “Aladdin” at the Palace Theatre on Saturday night. Their duologues, their dancing and their characterisations were star efforts on the best old-time panto lines.

The review went on to say:

Three hours and a half of strenuous movement and constant scenic and costume changes on the little stage accentuated the tropical heat of the summer’s evening. None the less, the crowded audience applauded the many strong features of the piece with energy, showed a tolerant approval of the few weak passage, and still has strength enough to bear up under the protracted enthusiasm of the floral reception at the end.

Of the female cast members, the same reviewer noted:

The character of the scapegrace introduces a new and dashing principal boy from America, Winifred La France, whose graceful figure is backed by an immense voice, which would fill Drury Lane Theatre, and proved somewhat overwhelming at the Palace. … Olive Godwin, who returned after a considerable absence in beautiful voice as the Princess Badroulbadour, sumptuously attired and not less rich in song.

Aladdin played to packed houses until 25 April 1918.

On the warfront, the battle continued to rage with no sign of easing. The previous year, 1917, had proved a devastating one for the country with some 22,000 men losing their lives—the heaviest death toll since the commencement of hostilities. On the homefront, the Taits along with the other key providers of entertainment, continued to play their part in ensuring that the people at home could keep their sanity by forgetting the war for a bit.

Emelie Polini

National Library of Australia, Canberra

The next attraction at the Palace was the ‘brilliant English actress’ Emelie Polini, who opened her first season in Australia with the ‘thrilling mystery comedy drama’ De Luxe Annie. A three-act play by Edward Clark, it was adapted from a short story by Scammon Lockwood. Following try-out performances in Atlantic City, De Luxe Annie opened in New York, initially at the Booth Theatre on 4 September 1917, playing over 100 performances. The play conserns a female swindler who is being pursued by the police, played on Broadway by Jane Grey, who would also go on to star in a film version. The story is told in flashback, with the first act taking place in a pullman car, where a doctor is telling a fellow passenger about an interesting case. As the story progresses, the police discover that Annie is the wife of a respected citizen and that having contracted amnesia as the result of a head injury, had been taken advantage of by a notorious crook, Jimmie Fitzpatrick, created by Vincent Serrano.

In Sydney, Emelie Polini proved a sensation as Annie, with the drama playing to record business for over two months. With a solid supporting cast including Cyril Mackay as Jimmie Fitzpatrick, Gerald Kay Souper as Doctor Niblo, Clarence Blakiston as Hal H. Kendal, along with newcomers, Harmon Lee and Georgia Harvey, making their first appearances in Australia.

De Luxe Annie closed on Monday 24 June with two performance, including a special holiday matinee to commemorate the birthday of the Prince of Wales. Annie was withdrawn at the height of its success, but it needed to make way for Guy Bates Post whose season had already been booked. With the departure of Emelie Polini, the Palace remained closed as preparations were made for the arrival of the Taits’ next big attraction.

Mrs T.H. Kelly (Ethel Knight Mollison) as The Marchesa di Brignole Sala

Mrs Leslie Walford as the Madonna

Miss Langtree, Helen Laidly and Janet Knox

Matinee in aid of Italian Red Cross Day Fund at the Palace Theatre, 20 June 1918. Photographs by Glen Broughton Studios.

State Library of New South Wales, Sydney

Meanwhile, Friday 28 June 1918 was designated as Italian Red Cross Day, and across Sydney (and elsewhere), a myriad of events, from balls to pageants, took place to raise funds for war casualties and their families. In anticipation, a special fund-raising matinee was held at the Palace Theatre on 20 June, organised by Mrs T.H. Kelly [Ethel Knight Mollison], the wife of one of the key organisers. The event at the Palace was described as one of Art and Diction. It comprised a series of living pictures or tableaux vivants based on pictures by the old masters, including Mrs Kelly and her little son as the Vandyck portrait of the Marchesa di Brignola Sala and child. The program also included dramatic recitations from Shakespeare’s Italian plays and numerous songs presented by society ladies and gentlemen with the assistance of Cyril Mackay, Signor Cappelli and Philip Wilson. The afternoon was described as ‘long and very slow-moving’, with an auction of art objects conducted by Barry Lupino during one of the intervals providing some welcome relief.

Guy Bates Post with his dog Huskie

From The Theatre (Sydney), 1 July 1918, Theatre Heritage Australia

Scene from the New York production of The Masqueraderwith Guy Bates Post and Thais Lawton. Photo by White, New York.

Smithsonian, Washington, DC

On Saturday 29 June, Guy Bates Post, a well-regarded dramatic and character actor, made his Sydney debut. On stage since 1894, he first gained recognition in 1914 with the play Omar, the Tentmaker, which played an eight-month run in New York before heading on the road for three seasons. With his current play, The Masquerader, which enjoyed a long run on Broadway, his position as ‘America’s Irving’ was assured. He arrived in Australia fresh from this success, bringing with him key players from his company, including Thais Lawton, Adele Ritchie (his wife), Ruby Gordon, Lionel Belmore, Milane Tilden—and “Huskie” his trained German Shepherd dog. Post’s Australian visit was limited to just seventeen weeks, which meant that he would only be seen at the Taits’ two theatres in Melbourne and Sydney, opening his first season at the King’s on 27 April 1918.

The Masquerader was a three-act play by John Hunter Booth, adapted from the 1904 novel by Katherine Cecil Thurston. In England in 1905, a play from the same source, John Chilcote, MP, by E. Temple Thurston, was produced with George Alexander as the lead.

The story concerns a British politician, John Chilcote, a hopeless drug addict, who following a chance meeting with his cousin, who happens to be his double, seizes the opportunity to swap identities. The cousin, John Loader, a poor but gifted writer, achieves success as John Chilcote, MP, while the real Chilcote succumbs to his addiction and is buried as Loader.

The Masquerader held the stage until Saturday 10 August 1918. On the following Monday, 12 August 1918, Post staged The Nigger, a three-act drama by Edward Sheldon.² As noted by some historians, rather than use the play’s original title of Philip Morrow, Sheldon chose to adopt the more ‘explosive title’ to ‘make clear the attitudes of his white characters about the black ones in the play’.³ Press advertisements announced it as ‘The play that created a furore in Melbourne’, and also quoted the Argus review saying, ‘It aroused the great audience to a state of excitement seldom seen or heard in a theatre, and the appreciation was as whole-hearted as the acting’. It is not clear why Post chose to present this play in Australia, given his time was limited to just two appearances. When he introduced it at New York’s progressive New Theatre, it divided audiences, playing in repertory with other plays for two months.⁴ The play had also been adapted into a film in 1915 by the Fox Film Corporation, with William Farnum in the lead, and this had been screen in Sydney for one week during March 1916.

The Nigger played for two weeks, and for the final two days of Post’s engagement, 26 and 27 August, The Masquerader was repeated, with matinee and evening performances both days. This marked the final appearance of Guy Bates Post in Australia. As the Taits advised in their advertisements, ‘These performances bring to a conclusion the most triumphant season ever given in Australia’.⁵ The following day, the company set sail for America.

Bert Bailey as Gran’dad Rudd. Photo by May and Mina Moore.

State Library Victoria, Melbourne

Next, from Wednesday 28 August 1918 to Thursday 19 September 1918, the Palace was sub-let to Bert Bailey and Julius Grant, who presented the Bert Bailey Comedy Company in a brand-new play, Gran’dad Rudd, for the first time in Sydney, having already played seasons in Melbourne, Adelaide, Brisbane and the regions. Written by Steele Rudd, this play may have been new, but many of the characters were not. This was the much-anticipated sequel to On Our Selection. The play also saw the return of many old favourites, including Bert Bailey as Gran’dad Rudd, Fred Macdonald as Dave, Lilias Adeson as Lily, and Alfreda Bevan as Mrs Joe Rudd; along with Edmund Duggan and Queenie Sefton in the new characters of Denis Regan and Mrs Banks; and introducing Leslie Woods as Henry Cook, Louis Machilton as Dan Rudd, and Gracie Dorran as Nell.

The new play received an enthusiastic welccome, as the Sydney Morning Herald (29 August 1918) observed:

Roars of laughter attended the doings of the family on gran’dad’s selection at the Palace Theatre last night, as the audience settled happily down to the joyous realisation that the old farm was just as homely and “out-back” as ever, and that Steele Rudd’s new piece, under the genial handling of Mr. Bert Bailey, was just as crowded with humorous characters as the old one.

The play is set twenty years after the first one, and as such, the key characters are aged. Most notably, Bert Bailey as Dad, had lost some of his former energy:

... so naturally does Mr. Bailey play the part that one feels quite sad to see the once vigorous pioneer so aged. However, there is a world of unsuspected vigour left in the enfeebled frame and palsied head of that bent old fellow who leans on his stout oak stick, but it flares out only in the vitriolic sarcasms by which the patriarch keeps his troublesome team more or less in subjection.... In fact, Mr. Bailey has achieved a masterly study of old age in the character throughout a whole series of homely, comic situations, and playgoers will be especially grateful to him for the art with which he sustains the recognisable individuality of the first Rudd in the impersonation of the character which dominates the new story.

The Bert Bailey season was limited to just three week. Over the following years, Gran’dad Rudd would play throughout the country, but would not return to Sydney until 1923.

Georgia Harvey & Emelie Polini in a scene from The Invisible Foe (left), and Emelie with her new husband, Lieutenant Harold Ellis, ‘a Sydney solicitor of independent mean’ (right). From The Theatre (Sydney), 1 October 1918, Theatre Heritage Australia.

Characters from The Invisible Foe (1 to r): Harmon Lee as Richard Bransby, Olive Wilton as Mrs Hilary, Cyril Mackay and Gerald Kay Souper as Stephen Pryde & Dr. Lathan, Una Jan as Barkis, and John Fernside as Hugh Pride. From The Theatre (Sydney), 1 October 1918, Theatre Heritage Australia.

Following the departure of Bert Bailey and co., Emelie Polini returned with a new play, The Invisible Foe. Since she was last in Sydney, Emelie had tied the knot. It seems, on her way out to Australia she met a young Australian officer, Harold Ellis, on the boat and fell in love. Ellis had been with the Royal Field Artillery in England but had been gassed and wounded and was on leave. The two were quietly married in Melbourne in July 1918. According to one columnist, Emelie is ‘a very domesticated little lady, and when her contract with the Taits is finished she may slam the stage-door for ever’.⁶

The Invisible Foe opened on Saturday 21 September 1918. Once again, the advertisements said it all:

It’s English, written by an Englishman, concerning English Men and Women, and presented to you by English stars. Like all things English it’s good and powerful and will make a refreshing change in your theatrical diet after a long run of American productions in this city.⁷

The English drama played for just a month, closing on Thursday 10 October 1918. Polini’s next new play, Eyes of Youth, which opened on 12 October, proved a huge hit, running for nine weeks, until 13 December. It seems playgoers were more than happy with a diet of American plays!

Emelie Polini as Gina Ashling with Alfred Bristowe as the Yogi in Eyes of Youth

State Library Victoria, Melbourne

Eyes of Youth was a runaway success in America and the UK, playing for over a year in New York and for eight months in London. It is the story of a young woman, Gina Ashling, who consults an Indian Yogi, and is given a glimpse into the future: will she become a school teacher, a famous opera singer, wed a millionaire, or marry the man she loves? Summarising the play’s success, The World’s News (19 October 1918) wrote:

‘Eyes of Youth’, at the Palace Theatre, is a success; a big success—a J. and N. Tait success. There is enterprise and daring in this young firm’s activities. They had no hesitation in bringing to Sydney-siders ‘Eyes of Youth’, although it is a drama along lines entirely without precedent in Australia. It is a spoken movie—a  trick melodrama. It rushes forward with breathless speed. One momemnt you are depressed by its pathos, the next you are screaming with laughter... You came to see on comedy-drama. You were given four.... For Emelie Polini, it is, perhaps, the most perfect vehicle that could be built for her great talents and versatility.... In this play she holds the centre of the stage from curtain rise to the final fall, and in the course of the evening gives five big characterisations.

Going on to say:

It is characteristic of the Taits that, whether they put on a gloomy play like ‘The Invisible Foe’, or a sparkling comedy-drama like ‘Eyes of Youth’ and ‘De Luxe Annie’, they get the perfection of gloom or the perfection of sparkle. They are thorough—and artistic.

On Monday 11 November 1918, after four years of hostilities, and over 60,000 Australian war-dead, peace was declared with the signing of an armistice between Germany and the Allies. The news reached Australia in the evening, just as theatregoers were taking their seats. At the Palace, before the curtain went up, Mr E.J. Gravestock, the manager for J. and N. Tait, steppeed onto the stage and made the joyous announcement. The audience rose to their feet cheering as the band played the national anthems of the Allied forces.⁸

Perhaps the decision to stage an issue-laden play such as The Nigger was not so strange after all. On 18 October, the Palace played host to an important public meeting, when E.J. Tait addressed the audience on the need for a Repertory Theatre in Sydney. Under Gregan McMahon’s leadership, the Repertory Theatre Movement had gained some momentum in Melbourne, when in 1911, he staged the second act of The Critic and The Two Mrs Wetherbys at the Turn Verin Hall. Between 1911 and 1916, the organisation, modelled on similar undertakings in the UK, staged three seasons a year, presenting dozens of works deemed too intellectual or racy for the average theatregoer. The Repertory Theatre Movement championed the theatre of ideas, which encompassed the plays of Bernard Shaw, St John Ervine, Harley Granville Baker and John Galsworthy, as well as Ibsen and Strindberg. Typically, the plays were made available to theatregoers on a subscription basis. In the UK, this method was adopted to avoid scrutiny by the Lord Chamberlain, as plays mounted by clubs or staged privately did not require licencing in the normal manner. This was a useful arrangement, as many of the plays, due to their subject matter, might not have been deemed fit for the commercial stage.

By 1916, the Melbourne Repertory Company was struggling, it was losing subscribers and the pool of competent actors was dwindling, notably the male actors who had left to join the war effort.

In 1917, McMahon relocated to Sydney, taking up a role with the Tait organisation as an actor and director. E.J. Tait was impressed by McMahon’s achievement in Melbourne and determined to support a new Repertory-style company in Sydney. It was decided to utilise the actors from Emilie Polini’s company. At first, they would perform matinees of selected ‘repertory’ plays alongside their own repertoire, and slowly as the ‘repertory’ plays gained traction, would present them in their own right.

The first appearance of J. and N. Tait’s Repertory Company took place at a matinee on Thursday 31 October 1918 with George Bernard Shaw’s The Doctor’s Dilemma, under the direction of Gregan McMahon. The play had first been performed by his Melbourne Repertory Company in March 1914. Key roles now were played by Gerald Kay Souper (Sir Colenso Ridgeon) and Olive Wilton (Jennifer Dubedat), with other characters by Gregan McMahon, Alfred Bristowe and Raymond Lawrence. It was repeated at the matinee on Thursday 7 and 21 November, the proposed matinee on 14 November being cancelled on account of Sydney’s ongoing peace celebrations.

At the matinee on Thursday 28 November 1918 a new program was given, comprising the one-act plays, How He Lied to Her Husband and The Pigeon, the first by George Bernard Shaw and the second by John Galsworthy. How He Lied to Her Husband had been previous been seen at the Palace in September 1909, when it received its first metropolitan Sydney performance by The Sydney Stage Society in aid of the Women’s Hospital.

A second matinee took place the following Thursday 5 December 1918.

The Court of Injustice, a charity event organsied by Commercial Travellers’ Association of NSW with assistance from the Actors’ Association. The Sydney Mail, 18 December 1918, p.7.

On Friday 13 December, the Palace was turned over to the Commercial Travellers’ Association of NSW for a special event that ran from 10am to 5pm. Described as a Court of Injustice, it comprised a series of trials, whereby prominent citizens were accused of ludicrous crimes and ordered to make payments to charity. The Sydney acting fraternity lent their support. Arthur Styan was the Chief Justice with Phil Smith as the Chief Constable. C.R. Bantock, C.H. Workman, Walter Baker, Frank Harvey, Roy Redgrave, Walter Bentley, Louis Kimball and others appeared as Justices, Judges, Prosecutors and Counsels, while Florence Young, Gladys Moncrieff, Muriel Starr, Ethel Morrison and other prominent female performers were the Ladies of the Jury. The event was deemed enormous fun and £1,000 was raised, with calls for a return-performance.

With the close of Eyes of Youth on 13 December, after a highly successful nine weeks, the Repertory Company commenced a short residence from 14 December, when George Bernard Shaw’s The Doctor’s Dilemma was revived for five nights and two matinees, followed by How He Lied to Her Husband and The Pigeon from 20 December for four nights and one matinee.

On Christmas night, a special concert, under the direction of Oswald Anderson, took place, with Peter Dawson, Philip Newbury and others performing songs, ballads and recitals. A proposed revival of De Luxe Annie was held over until Boxing Night.

To be continued

Endnotes

1. Sydney Morning Herald, 19 January 1918, p.8

2. This was Sheldon’s second play, his first, Salvation Nell, achieving success at the hands of Mrs Fiske during 1908. Sheldon would go on to write many noteworthy plays, including The High Road (1912), Romance (1913) and The Czarina (1922).

3. The A to Z of American Theater, p.349

4. The New Theatre opened on 28 November 1909 as a repertory theatre with seats for 2,300. An ambitious project, it lasted just two seasons.

5. Advertisement, Sydney Morning Herald, 27 August 1918, p. 2

6. The Bulletin (Sydney), 25 July 1918, p.38

7. Advertisement, Sydney Morning Herald, 19 September 1918, p.2

8. On 8 November 1918, 200,000 Sydneysiders prematurely gathered in Centennial Park to celebrate the end of the war. With the official annoucement four days later, jubilant crowds continued to flock into the city. Wednesday 13 November was declared a public holiday., when 250,000 people attended a service in the Domain, with 60,000 servicemen and women marching from Central Station. Scenes of merryment continued throughout the week with tens of thousands of people packing Martin Place.

References

Gerald Bordman, The Oxford Companion to American Theatre, Oxford University Press, 1984

James Fisher, The A to Z of American Theater: Modernism, Scarecrow Press, Lanham, 20009

James Leve, American Musical Theater, Oxford University Press, 2016

Viola Tait, A Family of Brothers: The Taits and J.C. Williamson; a theatre history, Heinemann, Melbourne, 1971

Newspapers

Trove, trove.nla.gov.au

Pictures

National Library of Australia, Canberra

State Library of New South Wales, Sydney

State Library Victoria, Melbourne

Theatre Heritage Australia

With thanks to

Rob Morrison

After four long years, the war was finally over and soldiers started returning home, and the lucky men who had survived the hostilities were reunited with their families. For many, Christmas 1918 was the first time that they could relax … and slowly, perhaps, things could get back to normal.

At the Palace Theatre, Boxing Day saw a welcome revival of De Luxe Annie, with performances commencing at the matinee. A crowded house greeted Emelie Polini. It was clear that a ‘brief’ revival was out of the question.

Emelie Polini, c.1919

National Library of New Zealand, Wellington

Marie Ney, c.1919. Photo by Mina Moore.

State Library Victoria, Melbourne

Meanwhile, on 23 January 1919 (a week later than originally announced), a matinee performance of John Gabriel Borkman was given by J&N Tait’s Repertory Company, under the direction of Gregan McMahon, with George Bryant in the title role, Marie Ney as Ella Rentheim, Olive Wilton as Mrs Borkman and McMahon as Vilhelm Foldal. This was the first Sydney production; the Ibsen play having received its Australian premiere in June 1911 when McMahon launched his Melbourne Repertory Theatre Company.¹

While in the Melbourne the play was well received, in Sydney, critics found it unrelentingly gloomy. The Sydney Morning Herald (24 January 1919) for example reported:

Running over with dreary dialogue and having very little action to give it value from the dramatic standpoint, Ibsen’s ‘John Gabriel Borkman’ was produced yesterday afternoon at the Palace … Dismal from the commencement to the close, the stage story of the sour-tempered, callous, and course-grained Borkman, and the two women whose lives he has ruined, is to a large extent a sneer at selfishness in several forms.

Going on to say of the actors:

Mr George Bryant was lumbering and lugubrious as the ex-bank director whose dreams do not come true … On the principle of compensation Miss Marie Ney was admirable as Ella Rentheim … and Olive Wilton was equal to nearly all the demands which were made upon her as Borkman’s unenviable wife … [while] Mr Gregan McMahon contrived to blend the admirable characteristics of old Adam in ‘As You Like It’ and Jaikes in ‘The Silver King’.

On 27 January 1919, the last two weeks of De Luxe Annie were announced. But how things can change—two days later, all Sydney theatres were ordered to close by the NSW state government.

Notice in The Theatre Magazine (Sydney), 1 February 1919, p.26

Since late 1918, Australian authorities had been aware of the threat faced by pneumonic influenza or Spanish Flu. The disease had already claimed the lives of thousands in Europe, America and elsewhere. With the mass return of people from overseas, it was only a matter of time before the disease reached the Australian mainland. Despite the introduction of quarantine facilities, the first case was confirmed in Melbourne in January 1919. On 28 January, four people were reported to have died from influenza, with 99 new cases added, bringing the total number to 334, with 50 cases regarded as serious. Travel between Victoria and NSW was halted and civilians were being encouraged to wear masks.

In Sydney, newspapers for 29 January, reported that twelve infected people were being treated at Randwick Hospital, and although this number seemed low, authorities were leaving nothing to chance. All public institutions across the city, including libraries, churches, schools and theatres, were ordered to close. But this was just the tip of the iceberg. Between January and September, 290,000 people in NSW would contract the disease, resulting in over 4,000 deaths.

From 27 January to mid-May theatres remained closed, forcing thousands of performers and theatre personnel out of work, and when they did re-open on 17 May, it did not mark the end of the pandemic. According to statistics, the period May to July would see the highest death rate in Sydney.

Nevertheless, the all-clear came on 16 May, and the following day, theatre doors were flung open. As a result of the closures, the shows originally listed at the Palace during early 1919 were disrupted. Firstly, a second matinee of John Gabriel Borkman, scheduled for 30 January, did not take place, and as a result the Repertory Company was sent off on tour, eventually establishing a residency in Melbourne. The proposed Sydney season of Bubbly set to open on 8 February was postponed indefinitely, and Jack and Jill, originally slated to open in early April was delayed by more than a month. It seems the entire company of 100 people had set out for Sydney in early April and underwent four days’ quarantine in Albury, only to return to Melbourne when the ‘axe fell’.²

Barry Lupino as Dame Durden

Marriner Theatre Archive

Gracie Dorran as Jill. Photo by Elizabeth Nash-Boothby.

Marriner Theatre Archive

The Palace re-opened on 17 May with Jack and Jill. This pantomime, produced by Bert Bailey, had played in Melbourne at Christmas 1918/1919, with Virginia Roche and Gracie Dorran in the title roles, along with Barry Lupino as the Dame, Gracie Leigh as Prince Fearnaught, Violet Collinson as Princess Bountiful, Bert Bailey as Ginger, and William Hassan as the Donkey.³

Virgina Roche who played Jack was brought over from America, while Gracie Dorran, the young Australian performer who played Jill, had joined the Bailey company in Adelaide in mid-1918 to play ingenue roles, including Nell in Gran’dad Rudd when it played at the Palace in August 1918. Gracie was a seasoned performer, having been on the stage since the age of 10, notably touring with Philip Lytton’s Dramatic company and performing with one of Edward Branscombe’s Dandies concert parties.

The pantomime at the Palace ‘is a good tonic for influenza’, observed The Bulletin (22 May 1919), while The Triad (10 June 1919) wrote:

There need be no dodging of the fact as to the Tait pantomime at the Palace Theatre. It is the brightest and briskest and generally jolliest little pantomime of the last five years. There is more honest mirth in it than there would be in any three of the others concentrated. Mr Barry Lupino is the most humourist of dames … [and] Miss Gracie Dorran, who plays Jill, is a frank, natural, gentle, and very charming girl on the stage, with a pleasant little voice and a delightful manner.

Jack and Jill played until 26 June.

(left) Harry Lauder travelling from San Francisco to Sydney on the ship S.S. Ventura, 1919. State Library Queensland, Brisbane; (right) Harry Lauder by Bancks, The Bulletin (Sydney), 17 July 1919, p.34

The 12 July saw the highly anticipated return of Harry Lauder. Following the huge success of his 1914 tour, the Taits were keen to coax the Scottish comedian back to Australia. Almost the day after peace was declared Lauder, accompanied by his wife, sister and brother-in-law, set sail for Canada. Keen to earn enough money to retire to his beloved property ‘Laudervale’ in Dunoon on the Clyde coast, he departed on a six-month Farewell Tour, having arranged to also visit America, Australia, New Zealand and India.

Since his first visit to Australia, Lauder had worked tirelessly for the war effort, and when his beloved son, Captain John Lauder, lost his life on the battlefields of France, he was determined to see the world one last time and raise further funds for war charities.⁴

Lauder arrived in Sydney on 29 April 1919 per mail steamer Ventura. In addition to his family, Lauder was accompanied by two performers, Muriel Window and Eddie Montrose, who would be part of his show. Muriel Window was an American artiste called ‘The Little Peacock of Vaudeville’ who had made a name for herself in the revue The Passing Show in which she wore some amazing costumes; while Montrose, known as ‘The Broadway Clown’, was a skilled acrobat. Amy and Dolly Castles were also on the ship as was singer Harry Dearth.

The ship was inspected by quarantine officers and ‘passed as clean’ allowing Lauder and the other passengers to disembark. Lauder was greeted by a vast crowd, echoing his arrival in Australia five years earlier. He and his party were escorted to the Hotel Australia by a ‘body of Scotch pipers and a number of leading Scottish residents’, where he was met with a cable from England announcing that the King had awarded him a knighthood—Sir Harry Lauder—in recognition of his assiduous efforts during the war, raising money, running recruitment drives and performing for troops on the front lines. Many actors had received the honour, beginning with Henry Irving in 1895, but Lauder was the first vaudeville entertainer to be knighted.

With Sydney theatres still closed, Lauder’s planned opening at the Palace Theatre was postponed, and arrangements were made for him to open at the King’s Theatre in Melbourne from 10 May to 12 June, with a six-night season at the Adelaide Tivoli from 21 June.⁵ Of the current situation in Sydney, Sir Harry was somewhat dismissive, saying he took no notice of the influenza, ‘It never once interfered with me. Right through America I played to capacity houses. I never heard of such a thing as theatrical restrictions there.’ ⁶

Sheet music cover for ‘Australia is the Land for Me’

National Library of Australia, Canberra

Sheet music cover for ‘Don’t Let Us Sing Any More About War, Just Let Us Sing of Love’

State Library of New South Wales, Sydney

As a result of his recent illness and the delay of the Adelaide season, Lauder’s Sydney opening, originally announced for 28 June, was postponed until 12 July, which meant the theatre remained ‘dark’ for the two weeks following the departure of the Jack and Jill company. Lauder had played the Palace in mid-1914, when he transferred there from the larger Royal for a few nights at the conclusion of his last visit. His return Sydney season got off to a great start. Audiences and critics were unanimous in their enthusiasm for the little Scottish comic.

Harry Lauder, the homely, the humorous, the home-loving, faced a Sydney audience at the Palace Theatre on Saturday night. There he stood convulsed with silent laughter and reminiscent glee, the same kilts, the same gnarled and twisted cudgel, the same inimitable Scottish comedian we all learned to love when he first came here five years ago. Joyous enthusiasm followed all his efforts, and the happiest of evenings resulted.⁷

A mixture of old songs and new, combined with his characteristic dry humour comments, a twinkle in his eye and smile on his lips, he was a sensation, but as on the previous tour, audiences had to wait until the second half of the program for him to appear. In addition to Lauder’s two principal associate artists, Muriel Window (presenting a series of quick changes into costumes from different periods—1871, 1919 and 1931!—to the accompaniment of bird-song) and Eddie Montrose (with his dazzling ‘falling’ stunt and side-somersaults on one hand), there was Highland dancer Heather Belle, baritone Colin Crane with a series of ballads, and other sundry musicians and jugglers. (See THA Digital Library for copy of program for week commencing 9 August 1919)

Cartoon by Mick Paul

The Lone Hand (Sydney), August 1919, p.35

Cartoon by Mick Paul

The Lone Hand (Sydney), August 1919, p.35

Over the following ten weeks, Lauder played to packed houses, with many people reportedly attending more than once. He presented a changing repertoire of songs, including the peace song, ‘Don’t Let Us Sing Any More About War, Just Let Us Sing of Love’, and a patriotic Australia-themed ballad, ‘Australia is the Land for Me’. Due to the huge demand for seats, Lauder’s Palace season was extended until Wednesday 3 September 1919. His final night was so popular that many people had to be accommodated on the stage. It was said to be an attendance record for the Palace.⁸

With his departure from Australia set for 8 October, Lauder concluded the Australian leg of his world tour by visiting Brisbane and the Northen Rivers, concluding with a return visit to Melbourne. Owing to ‘shipping difficulties’ the planned New Zealand tour was cancelled.

Palace Theatre attractions. The Sun (Sydney), 3 September 1919, p.10

With the smell of heather still lingering in the air, Emelie Polini began a brief return season on Thursday 4 September with Eyes of Youth. Arthur E. Greenaway, who had previously played the role of Peter, was now cast as the Yogi, with Hamon Lee as Paolo Salbo and Maurice Dudley as Picquand, along with John De Lacey, John Fernside, Monica Scully and Georgia Harvey.

Once again audiences crammed the theatre and it was reported that with this third return season of Eyes of Youth, it had ‘eclipsed the business done when it was first produced at the Palace’.⁹ The season ended on 26 September, when Emelie Polini and the company left for a tour of New Zealand.

From program for Daddies. State Library of New South Wales, Sydney.

With the next attraction, Daddies, a play by John Lessing Hobble, the Taits announced something of a departure—there would be no star! ‘The play is to be the thing’. ¹⁰ In America, under David Belasco’s management, it had premiered in Washington on 10 June 1918, prior to commencing a highly propitious New York season on 5 September at the Belasco Theatre. When it was given its first Australian outing at the King’s Theatre in Melbourne on 19 July 1919, it had just ended on Broadway. Having transferred to the Lyceum Theatre in November, it closed on 4 June 1919 after 340 performances, with Jeanne Eagles (Ruth Atkins), Winifred Fraser (Mrs Audrey), Edith King (Bobette), Bruce McRae (Robert Audrey), Edwards Davis (Nicholas Waters) and George Abbott (Henry Allen).

Despite its obvious success, the play divided the critics, with some calling it ‘powerful’ and ‘artistic’ and others decrying its ‘sugar and sentimentality’.¹¹

It is the story of a group of college buddies who shun marriage and set up an anti-matrimonial club that meets once a year. Out of a sense of duty, however, they decide to each sponsor a war orphan, but Robert Audrey’s orphan turns out not to be a baby but a ‘beautiful seventeen-year-old girl’—and of course—he falls in love with her!

In Melbourne, Daddies had played for eight weeks, with Margaret Nybloc (Ruth Atkins), Beatrice Esmond (Mrs Audrey), Greta Brunelle (Bobette), Jerome Patrick (Robert Audrey), Reginald Wykeham (Nicholas Waters), Gerald Kay Souper (Henry Allen), Tal Ordell (William Rivers), James Crocket (George Bryant), and Roland Rushton (Parker). The play was jointly directed by Jerome Patrick and Roland Rushton. Of the cast, Jerome Patrick, Roland Rushton and Greta Brunelle hailed from New York, though it seems Brunelle was the only actual American, as Patrick was a New Zealander and Rushton came from Adelaide.

Daddies arrived in Sydney on 27 September with the promise of a long run. The cast was the same as in Melbourne with a few key exceptions. The role of Ruth was now played by Gracie Dorran, who had replaced Margaret Nybloc during the Melbourne run, with Cyril Mackay as Nicholas Walters and Wilfred Hilary as William Rivers.¹²

Sydney critics were mixed in their reception, with Sunday Times calling it ‘a tender, laughing comedy’ while The Sun called it ‘a pretty play … not a great one’. The Referee declared it ‘a delightful comedy with any amount of human interest’.¹³ Although it proved popular and played to good houses, it was withdrawn after just four weeks.

Advertisement for Old Lady 31, The Sun (Sydney), 1 October 1919, p.8

Saturday 1 November 1919 saw the welcome return of Sara Allgood. Since her last appearance at the Palace in February 1918, she had been through an incredibly tough time. While experiencing immense success with Peg o’ My Heart and appearing in her first ‘photoplay’, Just Peggy (a sort of Peg spin-off),¹⁴ Allgood’s personal life was in turmoil. In September 1916 she had married her leading man, Gerald Henson, and on 18 January 1918, just a month prior to her third reappearance at the Palace, she gave birth to a baby, Mary, who died within an hour. Previously, in May1917, she learned that her brother had died from wounds in France, and a month later that a good friend, Major H.K. Redmond, had also been killed in the firing line. In mid-1918, she embarked on a six-month tour of New Zealand, her second visit, commencing in Dunedin on 26 July. By November, however, influenza had reached New Zealand, and that month, while in Wellington, several members of the Peg o’ My Heart company contracted the disease, including Sara and her husband. While Sara recovered, Gerald sadly died on 24 November 1918. Due to shipping issues, she remained stranded in New Zealand until she could secure passage back to Australia on 14 January 1919, but due to quarantine requirements, a trip that usually takes four days, turned into a four-week ordeal, including twenty days in the Federal enclosure at North Head.

Postcard of Sara Allgood with a personal note, c. 1919. Author’s collection.

After eight months absence from the stage, the Tait management announced that they had secured Sara Allgood for a new play, Old Lady 31. This new play by Rachel Crothers, based on a novel by the late Louise Forsslund, represented quite a departure from Peg o’ My Heart and Just Peggy. In many ways it was a return to the types of characters she had been playing at the Abbey Theatre in Dublin: old ladies! Subtitled ‘the sunshine comedy with 306 laughs’, it is set in 1860s New England where, through penury, Angie is separated from her seafaring husband Abe and sent to an Old Ladies’ Home, but the twenty-nine inhabitants of the home are so impressed by the couple’s devotion that they arrange to accommodate him also. Thus, Angie becomes Old Lady 30 and Abe becomes Old Lady 31!

After a short try-out season, Crother’s ‘gentle, homely, rainbow comedy’ was given its first Broadway performance at the 39th Street Theatre on 30 October 1916.¹⁵ With Emma Dunn as Angie and Reginald Barlow as Abe, it proved an unexpected ‘hit’, playing for 160 performances. In 1920, it was made into a film by Metro Pictures, with Dunn reprising her role of Angie.¹⁶

From program for Old Lady 31. State Library of New South Wales, Sydney.

As in Melbourne, many of the ‘old lady’ roles were played noted stage veterans including Maggie Moore, Katie Towers and Madge Herrick.

Old Lady 31 played until 12 December, and the following night Peg o’ My Heart was relaunched for Sara Allgood’s ‘farewell’ season.

To be continued

Endnotes

1. The initial season of the McMahon’s Melbourne Repertory Theatre Company took play at the Turn Verein Hall and comprised three plays: the double bill of The Two Mr Wetherbys and Act 2 of The Critic (26 June & 3 July 1911) and John Gabriel Borkman (29 June & 6 July 1911). Amateurs F. Kingsley Norris and J. Beresford Fowler were both praised for their acting in the Ibsen play. See also https://theatreheritage.org.au/on-stage-magazine/profiles/item/688-jack-beresford-fowler-a-life-well-spent-part-1

2. Sydney Morning Herald, 5 April 1919, p.17

3. In Melbourne, Virginia Roche missed the premiere due to quarantined requirements, and her original role of Prince Fearnaught was played by Dorothy Leigh with Ida Newton as Jack; but on her arrival, Roche declared she wanted to play Jack, and Dorothy took on the role of the Prince.

4. Lauder published a book, A Minstrel in France, about his wartime experiences. It was published in 1918 and was promoted in Australia during his 1919 tour.

5. Lauder was to have played eight-nights in Adelaide from 14 June, but contracted laryngitis and ordered not to travel by doctor.

6. Advertiser (Adelaide), 30 April 1919, p.10

7. Sydney Morning Herald, 14 July 1919, p.7

8. Daily Telegraph (Sydney), 4 September 1919, p.5

9. Referee (Sydney), 24 September 1919, p.9

10. Table Talk (Melbourne), 10 July 1919, p.12

11. Bordman, p.86

12. The Ballarat Star, 16 August 1919, noted, ‘Miss Nybloc was essentially a character actress, and not at all well cast in Daddies’.

13. Sunday Times, 28 September 1919, p.2; The Sun, 28 September 1919, p.2; Referee, 1 October 1919, p.9

14. For more detail see Pike and Cooper, p.106-107

15. New York Times, 31 October 1916, p.11

16. See IMDB, Old Lady 31 (1920) - IMDb

It was remade in 1940 as The Captain is a Lady, with Charles Coburn and Beulah Bondi. See IMDB, The Captain Is a Lady (1940) - IMDb

References

Gerald Bordman, American Theatre: A Chronicle of Comedy and Drama, 1914-1930, Oxford University Press, 1995

Harry Lauder, A Minstrel in France, Andrew Melrose Ltd, London, 1918

Andrew Pike & Ross Cooper, Australian Film, 1900-1977, Oxford University Press in association with The Australian Film Institute, Melbourne, 1980

Viola Tait, A Family of Brothers: The Taits and J.C. Williamson; a theatre history, Heinemann, Melbourne, 1971

Newspapers

New York Times with Index (1851-2022), via State Library Victoria

Trove, trove.nla.gov.au

Pictures

Marriner Theatre Archive, Melbourne

National Library of Australia, Canberra

National Library of New Zealand, Wellington

State Library of New South Wales, Sydney

State Library Queensland, Brisbane

State Library Victoria, Melbourne

With thanks to

Rob Morrison

George Rings Down the Curtain 

The manwith whom I was most in contact during my association with J.C. Williamson’s theatres was Frank Tait, later to become Sir Frank. As I remember him, he was a very fine type of person to whom one could apply the rather out-moded title of gentleman, in all sincerity. He was always friendly and sympathetic and ready to help in every possible way.  If you were foolish and overstepped your responsibility, he told you in a kindly manner that it was not your prerogative to act in that particular way.

On one occasion I overheard the mechanist speaking in a very offensive manner of a certain artist’s work. Frank Tait was quick to tell him that he himself was in total disagreement with the mechanist’s views. He backed me up on numerous occasions against what I considered unreasonable opposition from producers. When I asked for an increase in salary, and remarked in parenthesis, that I only had ‘a few hundred in the bank’, he said, “You are lucky to have that,” but I got the raise. At yet another time when I was working on a grand opera season until 10 p.m. and sometimes later, I was overjoyed to find my salary had been increased by ten pounds, without my mentioning it.

I have heard many unkind and unfair things said about the Taits, chiefly of course by disgruntled actors. However, when all had been sorted out, it was always the actors themselves who were at fault. The Taits were business people, and as such insisted on sticking to the letter of the contract. Trouble usually arose when an actor did something which violated his contract and when faced with this, he would be most put out, and could take refuge in derogatory statements about the management.

Sir Frank Tait. Photo by Conway Studios Corp, New York.

Tait Family collection

Claude Kingston in 1928

Truth newspaper collection, State Library of Western Australia, Perth

The man behind Frank Tait, as his general manager, was Claude Kingston. This was undoubtedly a very smoothly operating partnership and the qualities which could be said to belong to one belonged equally to the other. We older members of the staff were all part of an organization, and had a very real responsibility to get the job in hand done. It was up to us to give the same loyalty to the Firm, as was extended to us. No enquiry was ever made as to what, when or how—provided the show was ready for rehearsals.

There are a number of people with whom I have come in contact who are still, along with myself, with the Firm and Harry Strachan, a director and general manager is one. He grew up in the Firm, and if anyone knows the answers in management, it is certainly Harry. Up to date he has booked some very successful shows, and he has always been a very sincere man and very easy to get along with; in other words, a thoroughly nice bloke.

Charles Dorning, another director, came out originally to play the male lead in Song of Norway (1950). Sidney Irving holds the reins in Sydney and it is always a pleasurable occasion when I meet him there. Bill Gordon, the publicity man has, in my opinion, done a marvellous job. He has managed to get publicity for shows in hitherto unexplored areas. Betty Pounder does the casting and produces the ballets for the shows—she is an extremely clever person, and a tremendous acquisition to the theatre.

Anna Pavlova programs

Editor’s collection

Scene from Show Boat, with Colin Crane as Joe, top right

From The Australasian, 17 August 1929, p.iii

One of the years Anna Pavlova had a season here (1926) we were in the throes of a drought. I remember talking to her before a matinee and whilst we were talking the rain suddenly began to batter on the roof. We both rejoiced that the drought had ended!

Beppie de Vries, starring in The Student Prince with James Liddy, gave such a magnificent performance it might still be remembered by many. A contretemps occurred concerning the production of Show Boat: the import who was supposed to be a bass baritone turned out to be a light tenor. It was impossible for him to sing “Old Man River” so he was eventually packed off back again to the USA. Colin Crane got his chance and thus began his journey to stardom. [Listen to Colin Crane singing “Old Man River” on YouTube.]

This following incident happened before my time in the theatre but I include it here as having historic value. It was a Shakespeare season and George Rignold’s company were the players. Rignold played the king who was slain on the battlefield and it was done by an actor in the top echelon. Even the blasé stagehands had a look at it—the boys on the fly-floor used to go out on the grid (the structure right up above the stage) and from this vantage point they had a good view of the death scene. One night they took a new hand along with them to watch the action. It was the practice to tie a piece of sash-line around a man’s waist in order to hold a hammer or three. During the edging and shuffling for a better viewing position up on the grid, this particular night one of the boy’s hammers became dislodged and plummeted down from the grid. It landed right in the middle of the dead king’s breastplate. The astonished and furiously enraged monarch struggled back to life and swinging his sword vengefully, rushed off the stage , swearing to have the blood of the unlucky individual who had perpetrated such a ghastly indignity on His Majesty’s person.

Another piece of idiocy which brought forth very untimely roars of laughter from the audience took place during a performance involving the storming, by invaders, of a castle. They were firing huge rocks from a catapult and there were two men straining to haul a large and extremely heavy-looking rock onto the catapult mechanism, when it slipped over the footlights into the orchestra pit. One of the violinists placidly put down his violin and handed back the rock—papier mâché—to the staggered troupes.

Emelie Polini

From The Theatre, Society and Home, April 1924

Harriet Bennet, 1926

National Library of Australia, Canberra

Amongst many famous people I recall Emelie Polini who scored a success with charm and ability in My Lady’s Dress. Lawrence Grossmith topped box-office records with his performance in Ambrose Applejohn’s Adventure. These were some of the big names in the 1930s. There are other names of the past to conjure with—lovely Harriet Bennet in Rose Marie, Stephanie Deste in Desert Song, Lance Fairfax and Colin Crane, and Leon Gordon with Helen Strausky playing Tondeleo, who thrilled audiences in White Cargo.

There has been some doubt expressed about the authenticity of the Flinders statue outside St. Paul’s Cathedral in Melbourne. A writer to the Press mentioned the—I think he did call it ‘famous’—mural at Flinders Naval Base showing the landing of Captain Cook, in which he is shown in the identical stance of the Flinders statue. My reason for writing about this is that the mural, in several parts, was painted by William R. Coleman, the J.C. Williamson’s head scenic artist. The panels were transported by lorry from the theatre, already framed, ready to be installed in position in the Ward Room at Flinders. The boys who were assigned to the job were first entertained by the Petty Officers and as a result got rather ‘full’. Two ladders, one at each end of the wall, were used by the carpenters to hoist each painting up into position to be fixed.

Great care had been taken with measurements, the frames being an exact fit to neatly fill the apertures, but one refused to go into place.  There was a lot of pushing and shoving until the mechanist, who had gone down to supervise the job, saw the trouble, and called, in a slightly slurred voice “Freddie, you bloody fool, take your fingers out from behind the frame!”

During the Second World War I was busy constructing a model map (for the State Theatre) of Europe, showing the countries taken over by Herr Hitler. As the commentary told of each country being invaded it caught fire—a coating of match-head composition having been ignited by a fuse wire. As I was preparing that part of Northern Europe, Estonia, with mountains, rivers, etc., a voice behind me said, “There is a small lake just about there….” Turning round I said, “It must be very small—as it is not marked on the map!” “I know,” replied Eric Reiman, “It is small—but I know it’s there—I used to wee in it when I was a small boy.”

The same Eric played a German officer in the film Forty Thousand Horsemen. In one shot he was hiding in a cave built within the studio. Eric swears it was so atmospherically real that he came down with a cold.

My Fair Lady—The Ascot Scene

Miles Kenyon collection

I  suppose one of the most spectacular shows was My Fair Lady (1959), with the best box-office ever. Before the director—Sam Liff—arrived, I had quite a lot of the scenery already painted and exactly the opposite to the designs used in New York and London. I was quite definite—I was going to paint the show in my style, not in the easy impressionistic way it had been treated. In any case, all I had were 35mm slides of the original sketches (Oliver Smith’s) which were completely useless.

When Sam Liff arrived we showed him the scenery which we had so far painted. He looked at it, then said to me, “I have strict instructions that the scenery must be exactly as in America and London—but you paint it how you want it. I will take the responsibility.”

Our brickwork was like bricks, the stone and woodwork painted as such—I filled the flower-market stalls with baskets and flowers, marbled the ballroom with silver and bronze and painted the Ascot Racecourse scene as it should have been painted. The Covent Garden Market roof was in the original, without a mezzanine, which at the date of the original play was in existence—it was drawn that way.

My Fair Lady—The Promenade of the Embassy

Miles Kenyon collection

My Fair Lady—The Ballroom

Miles Kenyon collection

It was 110 degrees in the Theatre—Her Majesty’s, Melbourne—on the Friday night final rehearsal, and the same on the opening night. But one forgot the heat—it was a magnificently produced show and worth all the long hours we had put in with the painting of it. I even received a letter from Mr. Liff, saying, “it is a wonderful production, thanks to you!” Patsy Hemingway understudied Bunty Turner as Eliza and during the run she developed appendicitis and had surgery. She went on a world tour convalescing, attending the various productions of My Fair Lady in different countries. On her return to Australia, she was interviewed in Sydney and asked her opinion of these other productions. She was quite definite that the Australian one, scenically, was infinitely better than in any other country!

Gus Bluett

National Library of Australia, Canberra

Funny-men Alfred Frith & Cecil Kellaway in a scene from Whirled into Happiness, 1924

National Library of Australia, Canberra

I have inadvertently left until now, some of the well-known names of theatre comedians, names such as Alfred Frith, Gus Bluett, Don Nicol, Arthur Stigant and the Kellaways, Cecil and Alec. These people were tops in their profession, but often circumstances cut their lives short. In the case of ‘Frithy’ it was too much Bacchanalian revelry—many a time he would be missing and come seven thirty—zero hour in the theatre for the evening performance—no Alfred Frith. Search parties were unable to find him on the premises or in the vicinity. George Jennings was his understudy and would ready himself for the part.

The show would start and the audience had settled down and then just as George made his entrance there would be loud cheering and clapping from the back of the gallery, holding up the show. On investigation—there was ‘Frithy’, happy in his cups, causing the interruption. What a character—but what a damned good comedian!  The same with Gus Bluett—a first-rate comedian, but over-indulgence spoilt everything. Don Nicol died early—he was excellent in his job and a very good caricature artist. Then there were Jack and Silvia Kellaway, two wonderful dancers—sadly Jack died of T.B. when quite young.

In a sketch Frith and Bluett are doing a drink scene in a bar—they introduce themselves and find they have the same name. What’s more, they live in the same house in the same street—and so on. The tag-line—they say goodnight to each other because it is time to head home.  They do—separately. And then there was the sketch involving Gus Bluett and Charles Norman, as two elderly spinsters making their way to bed. They undress with all the antics imaginable—the climax being when they disentangle themselves from their corsets, fumbling and scratching as they shed the garments. They get into bed and afterwards, in a semi-blackout, one is seen crawling over the other to get out of bed; then fumbling under the bed with inaudible mutterings. Blackout. With the times, how comedy has changed ….!

Sir Frank and Lady Tait, 1958

Tait Family collection

Margot Fonteyn, 1957

Tait Family collection

There are very pleasant memories of Mother’s Day when Lady Tait (Sir Frank’s wife, and formerly Viola Wilson) would produce a concert in the Melbourne Town Hall for funds for the Women’s Hospital. The stars of the current show at the theatre would perform within a big cast of entertainers. Lady Tait and I would get together on the production and I would design suitable décor for the occasion.

When Dame Margot Fonteyn was here, she danced at one of these Mother’s Day shows, held in the mid-1950s. I had painted large cutouts of Dresden china ornaments and figurines, with Dame Margot as a figurine coming to life and dancing. The most spectacular was one which we did in the theatre, at the time of the Queen’s Coronation in 1953, when South Pacific was one month off the end of its run. I painted the interior of Westminster Abbey and the ceremony was re-enacted. During the casting of the company much fun was caused by suggestions of various people to play the different parts in the presentation. Such as—casting the most inept character to play the Archbishop of Canterbury. And in the same vein—I suggested that Bloody Mary, the Negress mother in South Pacific, should play a part. When the impact of this was given more thought, the potential was felt to be dramatic. Bloody Mary was dressed as a duchess—she sang “Home Sweet Home” and most of the audience had tears in their eyes as the great wave of applause nearly brought the roof down! Incongruous as it may have been, it still is a beautiful memory for me.

That same night, the papers’ headlines splashed the wonderful news that Mount Everest had been conquered.

Beppie de Vries, 1927

National Library of Australia, Canberra

Gladys Moncrieff in Sybil, 1923

From The Theatre, Society and Home, April 1924

Some of the old shows which still have such joyful memories are The Merry Widow, Lilac Time, The Student Prince with James Liddy and that superb actress Beppie de Vries. The wonderful male chorus in this last show—with ‘Scottie’ Allan who sometimes took the top note for Liddy. Madame Pompadour, Silver King, If I were King, Sybil with Gladys Moncrieff, Potash and Perlmutter, The Broken Wing...

And then there were the people who gave a huge amount of their talent and industry to the film industry of the 30s and 40s and to which a value could not be set. Stuart Doyle, for one, was instrumental in launching Cinesound Productions. Ken G. Hall was another—he was the director of every production, with the exception of one, made by Cinesound. Others I feel compelled to mention were Captain Frank Hurley, George Heath as cameraman, sound engineers Arthur Smith and Clive Cross, and the tutors of expression and acting Frank Harvey and George Cross. Jack Soutar and Harry Strachan were production managers, and Jack Kingsford Smith was a wizard on the optical printer, something he had designed and constructed himself. Other skilled people included Bert Cross, lab manager, and Bill Shepard the film editor and cutter. There were highly experienced make-up men, there were carpenters, property men and electricians. 

All these dedicated people had given all their time and energy into the melting pot, only to find their skills were lost to the community when the Motion Picture Industry, which had been thriving in Australia, stopped, in the 60s, with the surety and finality of a beheading. No one has advanced any reason why it was suddenly discontinued. At the time I am writing we have neither a film industry nor many suburban picture theatres—they have all practically closed down since the advent of television. Just for the sake of ‘making a faster buck’, a worthwhile industry which would have had untold value, as it created a fine national image, was utterly destroyed. It was an instance of a tremendous opportunity cast to the winds for lack of vision, and for greed.

George working on an unidentified set

Miles Kenyon collection

But returning to the world of theatre, as I look back, little instances—entertaining, good and/or bad, come to mind. The beautiful production of Aida with the Nile scenes and the massive Tomb scene. This tomb was built to take the big ballet number after the two characters had been interred. Because of the number of people involved above, the construction was of heavy timber. Two frames supported four-by-three joists and over these were laid the platform tops. These consisted of 20 feet by 4 feet of flooring and were unwieldy and extremely difficult to handle. Experienced stagehands could manage the juggling, but the Mechanist was breaking in some new stagehands to manipulate these troublesome rostrum tops. The first, second and third attempts were very unsuccessful, the tops all but toppling over and crashing onto the stage—only to be saved by others rushing to the rescue. At last the Mechanist, with a lovely flow of indecent swear words, broke his silence. “Cripes, you stupid bastards—you’ll never learn!”

The reply he got from one of the newly initiated was “Who the hell wants to...” And this bloke walked out of the theatre.

A little bit of history of a different kind: during the period I was Art Director to the Royal Agricultural Society of New South Wales I had designed a circular entrance vestibule to the big hall at the Show Ground. I wanted to use all Australian timbers, varying from the darkest to the lightest in colouring. Being war time, I had to approach the Timber Conservation Board for approval to obtain the three-ply. They were interested enough to have the sheets made for me—the partition was a fifty-foot semi-circle, and three six-foot high sheets of ply, the lightest coloured timber in the centre, gradually going through to darker and to the darkest at the edges. It was quite a feature.

Many months afterwards, I was having lunch in Sydney when I was approached by a man who enquired if I remembered him. I did, but had forgotten where we had met. He mentioned that he had dealt with my request for the timber for the RAS—so we got talking. He remarked that knowing at the time that I was with Cinesound and that they, of course, watched the Cinesound News Reels, he was dying to tell me of a job he had been given to do, top secret, and of the highest priority.

He told me of his travels and the eventual finding of a great number of Coachwood trees, found growing in warm, temperate rainforests along the coast of NSW.  With every available man and piece of machinery they were felled, sawn up and transported to the small arms factory in Penrith, where, with round-the-clock effort they were manufactured into rifle butts—since Australia hadn’t a rifle left in the country!

What a scoop for the news it would have been if it had been broadcast!

George at work in the Paint Room

Miles Kenyon collection

George puts his feet up!

Miles Kenyon collection