George A Highland

Montage by Judy Leech. Image on front page: Oscar Asche in Kismetby Alick P.F. Ritchie. National Library of Australia, Canberra.

By the beginningof the twentieth century live theatre in Australia was at the height of its popularity and attendances at both ‘cultured’ and ‘popular’ theatre continued to expand. Both Sydney and Melbourne boasted several central city theatres as well as numerous vaudeville and variety halls. International theatre companies regularly performed in Australia and their principal stars added to the popularity of the productions.

World War I had an initial impact on theatre attendance, but numbers soon returned, perhaps as a distraction from the European conflict, and Australian audiences continued to enjoy a wide range of entertainment. More than 350 different plays were staged in Melbourne alone during the war years.¹

Newspapers, leading magazines and journals responded to their readers’ passion for the theatre and gave it considerable coverage with reviews and commentary and most had dedicated ‘theatre critics’ on the payroll. Increasingly, and of present interest, this theatre copy was punctuated with illustrations by a raft of ‘black and white’ artists who plied their craft to portray theatrical personnel, often in unflattering, humorous caricatures and cartoons.

While a few of the artists had more or less regular arrangements with the press, for most their input to the theatrical theme was intermittent and only one aspect of their freelance work in a highly competitive profession. Without question, these artists were fortunate to be working in a time when cartooning and caricatures came of age and their output was prolific.

No newspaper or magazine in Australia in the early 1900s did more to encourage black and white artists than the Bulletin. It employed some of the finest artists of the time, including Will Dyson, Harry Julius, Hal Gye, Jim Bancks, D.H. Souter, Tom Glover and Mervyn Skipper. The Bulletin was where many cartoonists made their start. However, the Bulletin was not alone in nurturing the growing number of freelance black and white artists; Smith’s Weekly, Lone Hand, Sydney Sportsman, Bookfellow, Gadfly, Clarion, and Critic were some of the publications that regularly printed cartoons and caricatures.

Unlike other sections of a newspaper or magazine where illustrations were usually editorially driven, it is probably fair to say that as these artists were adding pictorial comment to written theatrical reviews—usually an actor or a scene—many of these theatrical caricatures and cartoons were included without editorial direction; the ‘black and whiters’ enjoyed a large degree of artistic independence.

There are too many artists in the black and white school of cartoonists and caricaturists to do them all justice, as such the following represent this writer’s personal favourites.

Many would agree that Australia’s greatest caricaturist was the exceptionally gifted Will Dyson (1880–1938). Arguable, some of Dyson’s best work were the numerous theatrical caricatures he drew for the Bulletin around 1904–10 as the magazine’s theatre cartoonist.

Dyson was acclaimed for the penetrating force of his cartoons and caricatures and saw the pretentious theatre personnel as a target for his acerbic penmanship; although it was once said that while he did not often attack the ladies with his pointed crow quill, he did the ‘wicked deed’ now and again.²

A ‘wicked deed’ perhaps, was Dyson’s 1908 sketch of Lady Dunscombe (Nellie Mortyne) in Jim the Penmanat the Theatre Royal Melbourne, where the lady, a decorative titled visitor of some importance, is portrayed with a rather unflattering figure. More sensitive was Dyson’s portrayal of Arthur Greenaway as the hunched and doddery King Louis XI in the musical The Vagabond King, which was produced by J.C. Williamson Ltd. in spectacular style during 1928–1929.

Will Dyson: A rather unflattering portrait of Nellie Mortyne as Lady Dunscombe in Jim the Penman at the Theatre Royal, Melbourne

Bulletin (Sydney), 17 December 1908, p.9

Will Dyson: Arthur Greenaway as Louis XI in the musical The Vagabond King, 1928

National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne

Other Dyson works include that of actor Julius Knight playing Sir Percy Blakeney in The Scarlet Pimpernel, performed at Her Majesty’s Theatre, Melbourne—‘a hero whose tigerish nonchalance gives him the aspects of a drugged prig …’—a description which is perfectly captured by Dyson’s caricature.

Another notable caricature shows ‘Norman: The bold bad man of the Bland Holt Co.’ Albert Norman was a leading actor with the Bland Holt Co. for many years and was well known for playing sinister characters. In fact, one review described him thus: Norman ‘is such a villain as he has been many times before, and the sardonic smile of sin on his countenance is the same old smile’.³ Again, a description well captured by Dyson.

A rare survivor, the original artwork for Leave It to Jane, published in Table Talk, demonstrates the use of sepia wash to achieve the tonal contrasts in the published cartoon, and the application of white touch-up to conceal changes.

Will Dyson: ‘Julius Knight in The Scarlet Pimpernel’

Bulletin (Sydney), 5 November 1908, p.9

Will Dyson: ‘Norman: The bold bad man of the Bland Holt Co.’

Bulletin (Sydney), 19 December 1907, p.8

Will Dyson: Original artwork for Leave It to Jane which was published in Table Talk (Melbourne),
17 June 1926, p.27

National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne

Harry Julius(1885–1938) was another fine caricaturist of the period as well as a most versatile artist—among many pursuits, he was a newspaper cartoonist, writer and illustrator, advertising executive and film animator. But it is his theatrical caricatures for which he is best known—stageland appealed to him as a splendid site for the caricaturist. Julius once remarked that for years he’d had opera glasses on actors with evil intent and it was melodrama and tragic grand opera, not placid modern plays, which moved him as a pictorial satirist.⁴

From around 1907, Julius consistently provided magazines, particularly the Bulletin, with humorous caricatures of performers from across the whole spectrum of the theatre from grand opera to vaudeville and pantomime; his output was prodigious. Julius had the skill of getting fine caricatures in a few lines with unmistakeable portraiture.⁵

There is a wonderful record of some 250 of Julius’ early theatrical caricatures (many of which had appeared in the Bulletin) of most of the prominent stars of the period presented in Theatrical Caricatures, published by the NSW Bookstall Co. in 1912. The book also includes stories on the theatre celebrities by Claude McKay. To view these pen and ink sketches in one collection gives an appreciation of how they would have ‘coloured’ the reviews of current and coming shows which the Bulletin ran in its ‘Sundry Shows’ pages.

One example of Julius’ caricatures includes Annette Kellerman in the glass tank from the Annette Kellerman Show at the Sydney Tivoli. Kellerman was an Australian long-distance swimmer, aquatic and vaudeville performer. Of her Tivoli show it was said: ‘the versatile mermaid has added submarine evolutions, toe dancing and wire walking to an endearing personality, and between them have captured the multitude.’⁶

Another cartoon that appears in the Bulletin illustrates a scene from the light musical comedy High Jinks, produced by J.C. Williamson at Her Majesty's in Sydney in 1915. The Bulletin review, on the same page as the cartoon, noted ‘the fair and willowy Gertrude Glyn as usual looms up in one or two gowns which stun the stalls... C.H. Workman one of the comedians puts up a good plainclothes performance’.

Harry Julius: ‘Annette Kellerman in the glass tank’

Bulletin (Sydney), 16 June 1921, p.42

Harry Julius: ‘High Jinks: Dance Chi-Chi (Gertrude Glyn) and the discoverer of the “High Jinks” perfume (C.H. Workman)’

Bulletin (Sydney), 11 February 1915, p.8

In another, John Coates the English tenor appears as Radames in Aida which played at Her Majesty’s, Sydney. In this caricature, Julius shows ‘John Coates going nobly to his doom, escorted by four stalwart Egyptians. Amneris (Edna Thornton) is grief-stricken’. Of Coates’ performance, the review said, it shows ‘what the portly Yorkshireman can do—when he chooses to exert himself’.⁷

Another cartoon shows a scene from Hamlet at the Sydney Criterion, where Hamlet (Walter Bentley) asks Horatio (W.S. Titheradge) and an inoffensive solder to swear an oath. According to the accompanying review, ‘Walter Bentley has a way of “beefing out” his lines on occasion that compels enthusiasm regardless of the exact meaning of the phrases beefed’.

Harry Julius: ‘Hamlet at the Sydney Cri: Hamlet (Walter Bentley) asks Horatio (W.S. Titheradge) and an inoffensive soldier to swear’

Bulletin (Sydney), 22 July 1909, p.8

Harry Julius: ‘Aida at Her Majesty’s, Sydney: John Coates going nobly to his doom, escorted by four stalwart Egyptians. Amneris (Edna Thornton) grief-stricken’

Bulletin (Sydney), 8 August 1912, p.10

Another prominent black and white artist whose caricatures regularly appeared in the Bulletin during this period was Jim Bancks(1889–1952). His work also featured in Melbourne Punch, Sydney Sun and Sunday Sun. Bancks fame was ensured in particular, with his comic ‘Us Fellows’ which evolved into Ginger Meggs.

Bancks works include Mr Pim Passes By at Sydney Criterion: Ashton Jarry as Mr Pim, ‘only just a passer-by’. Ashton Jarry first came to Australia in 1917 with Ada Reeve and since then performed in several Australian productions. One of his notable performances was as Mr Pim. Jarry also played Count Dracula in J.C. Williamson’s production of Dracula performed at the Sydney Theatre in June 1929.

Jim Bancks: ‘Mr Pim Passes By at Sydney Criterion: Ashton Jarry as Mr Pim, “only just a passer-by” ’

Bulletin (Sydney), 18 August 1921, p. 34

Jim Bancks: ‘Pianist Mischa Levitzki’

Bulletin (Sydney), 9 June 1921, p.14

Other notable caricatures include Mischa Levitzki, the Russian born American based concert pianist who at the Sydney Town Hall was described as ‘the young man with the strong forearms and rubber fingers’ (Bulletin, 9 June 1921), and Scandal at the Sydney Criterion (Bulletin, 26 May 1921) with Kenneth Brampton as Malcolm Fraser, the rejected lover and Maude Hannaford as the heroine, Beatrix Vanderdyke. Hannaford, described as a possessor of good looks, young and ambitious, had quickly become a star of the American stage with successful roles in Redemption and as the leading lady in The Jest.

Oh, Lady, Lady! was one of a number of sensational J. C. Williamson’s musical comedies of the 1920s. The leading lady, Dorothy Brunton was a hit as ‘Faintin’ Fanny a Peel-street pick-pocket; one review said, ‘The New Dot is as impish as the old one was coy and curly’. Her performance is complimented by an outstanding cast, including William Green as Hale Underwood, a man about town.

Jim Bancks: Two characters from the musical Oh, Lady, Lady! at the Theatre Royal, Sydney: William Green as Hale Underwood and Arthur Denton as the detective Cyril Townsley

Bulletin (Sydney), 8 September 1921, p.34 & 15 September 1921, p.36

Continuing with his depiction of stage actors, his 1921 portrait of George Gee in The Lilac Domino perfectly captures the gait of the rubber-legged dancer and comedian.

Of current ‘historical’ significance is Bancks’ cartoon ‘WHEN AT LAST SYDNEY THEATRE RESTRICTIONS ARE LIFTED: Montague Loveslush and his leading lady, Lulu De Vere, the stage’s smartest dressers, present themselves for re-employment’ (Bulletin, 15 May 1919).

This is Bancks’ take on the news on 15 May 1919 that Sydneysiders could go to the theatre again, with their masks off, after months of anti-influenza restrictions.

Jim Bancks: ‘The Lilac Domino at the Sydney Criterion: A goldfish movement by dancer George Gee’

Bulletin (Sydney), 7 April 1921, p.34

Jim Bancks: ‘WHEN AT LAST SYDNEY THEATRE RESTRICTIONS ARE LIFTED: Montague Loveslush and his leading lady, Lulu De Vere, the stage’s smartest dressers, present themselves for re-employment’

Bulletin (Sydney), 15 May 1919, p.36

Hal Gye (1888–1967) was another brilliant black and white artist, principally working in the Bulletin stable, who provided the magazine with theatrical and sporting caricatures and in 1910 replaced Will Dyson as the Bulletin’s theatre cartoonist. Gye drew for numerous other papers and magazines; caricatures of politicians for Melbourne Punch and sporting identities for the Judge, cartoons for the Australian Worker, Vanguard, Referee, Smith’s Weekly, Table Talk and the Sydney Arrow.

Examples of Gye’s Bulletin caricatures include Oscar Asche and Caleb Porter in Count Hannibal at the Melbourne Royal in 1910; the popular Scottish singer and entertainer Harry Lauder on the occasion of his first Australia tour; J.P. O’Neill in the melodrama No Mother to Guide Her at the Princess, 1913; and comedian W.S. Percy as the gaoler in Nightbirds, an adaptation of Die Fledermaus that played at Her Majesty’s in Melbourne during 1912.

Hal Gye: ‘Count Hannibal at Melbourne Royal: Caleb Porter as Father Pezelay [and] Oscar Asche as the Count’

Bulletin (Sydney), 27 January 1910, p.9

Hal Gye: ‘Harry Lauder, at Melbourne Princess’s’

Bulletin (Sydney), 7 May 1914, p.8

Hal Gye: ‘No Mother to Guide Her at Melbourne Princess’s: J.P. O’Neill as Bill Bunce, the bad’un (with a few of his hobbies)’

Bulletin (Sydney), 6 February 1913, p.11

Hal Gye: ‘Nightbirds at Her Majesty’s, Melbourne: W.S. Percy as the Black-Eyed Warder’

Bulletin (Sydney), 28 November 1912, p.10

Mervyn Skipper(1886–1958) became more prominent in the mid to late 1920s with his work often printed in the Bulletin and at one time he was the Melbourne cartoon correspondent for the magazine. Skipper left the Bulletin in 1933 to start his own magazine, the Pandemonium, which ran for 12 issues. Skipper later returned to the Bulletin as the art and drama critic and wrote extensively for Australian magazines including Lone Hand.

Some of his works include The Masquerader at Sydney Royal and The Truth About Blayds, a comedy by A.A. Milne at the Criterion.

Mervyn Skipper: ‘The Masquerader at Sydney Royal: Winnington Barnes as the faithful Brock, and Oliver Bainbridge as Bobby Blessington, a social hack’

Bulletin (Sydney), 10 September 1925, p.35

Mervyn Skipper: ‘The Truth About Blayds at the Sydney Criterion: Irene Vanbrugh and Janet Eccles return from burying a poet’

Bulletin (Sydney), 26 March 1925, p.35

D.H. Souter(1862–1935) had a 40-year association with the Bulletin, with his first cartoon appearing on 23 February 1895. His cartoons were fanciful and loosely described as ‘art nouveau’. Two examples from the Lone Hand magazine are shown below—‘Contralto Dramatique’ and ‘Prima Donna Assoluta.

D.H. Souter: ‘Contralto Dramatique’

Lone Hand (Sydney), 1 July 1907, p.257

D.H. Souter: ‘Prima Donna Assoluta’

Lone Hand (Sydney), 1 August 1907, p.412

Somewhat different in style was Souter’s cartoon announcing the musical comedy, Betty. The musical was produced by J.C. Williamson Ltd. and opened at Her Majesty’s Theatre in Sydney on 22 November 1924. Souter’s sketch shows Edith Drayson (Betty), Field Fisher (Duke of Crowborough), Alfred Frith (Lord Playne), Harold Pearce (Earl of Beverley), Reita Nugent (David Playne) and Harry Wotton (Hillier).

His skill as a black and white artist is also demonstrated by his portrait of Elsie Prince in her role of Judy in the Gershwin musical Lady Be Good, which opened at the St. James Theatre in Sydney on 30 July 1927. The original artwork is in the National Gallery of Australia, Canberra.

D.H. Souter: ‘Elsie Prince as Judy in Lady Be Good’, 1927

National Gallery of Australia, Canberra

D.H. Souter: ‘First Night Impressions (by DHS)’ of Bettyat Her Majesty’s Theatre, Sydney

Country Life Stock and Station Journal (Sydney), 28 November 1924, p.10

Souter, himself, was involved in the theatre and his operetta, The Grey Kimona was staged in Adelaide in 1907. He was also involved with Alfred Hill’s Sydney Repertory Theatre Society.

Tom Glover (1891–1938) was a New Zealand cartoonist who came to Australia in the 1920s and joined the Bulletin in 1922 where his cartoons and caricatures of personalities stamped him as a talented black and white artist.⁸ Prior to this he was cartoonist for the New Zealand Truth and also drew for the Free Lance under the name ‘Tom Ellis’. In around 1925, Glover joined the staff of the Associated Newspapers Ltd. and remained there until his sudden death in 1938.

A good example of his work is his portrait of the theatrical producer George A. Highland, drawn in 1925. Highland came to Australia in 1917 and worked with J.C. Williamson Ltd. He produced Maid of the Mountains in 1921 and many other productions.

Another portrait by Glover was of Tom Clare, the British music hall singer and pianist best known for singing humorous songs. Clare performed in a vaudeville show at the Melbourne Tivoli where it was said he ‘was better when he was less grandfatherly’.⁹

Tom Glover: Theatrical producer George A. Highland, 1925

National Portrait Gallery, Canberra

Tom Glover: ‘Tom Clare, who purveys songs from the piano’

Bulletin (Sydney), 26 March 1925, p.35

In 1925 he captured a good likeness of Allan Wilkie as Malvolio in Twelfth Night. Wilkie and his wife, Frediswyde Hunter-Watts, arrived in Australia in 1914 and worked with Nellie Stewart’s and J.C. Williamson’s touring companies. In 1920, Wilkie established the Wilkie Shakespearean Company, which debuted at Melbourne’s Princess Theatre in September 1920 with Macbeth. The previous year, Glover captured a fine image of showman and cartoonist Bert Levy.

Tom Glover: ‘Twelfth Night at Melbourne Palace: Allan Malvolio Wilkie’

Bulletin (Sydney), 2 April 1925, p.35

Tom Glover: ‘Melbourne Tivoli: Bert Levy, artist, author, journalist, international vaudeville star and good Australian’

Bulletin (Sydney), 18 September 1924, p.35

Ambrose Dyson(1876–1913), another of the artistically talented Dyson family, was essentially a political cartoonist, but occasionally dabbled in theatrical cartoons.

In his cartoon ‘The Tempter’, Dyson combined political and theatrical commentary with a pointed reference on Ada Ward, a former actress who had returned to Australia after ‘finding God’. Ada Ward first performed in Melbourne in 1877 with some success, but after many years performing in London she sensationally left the stage in 1897 to train as a preacher. Ward returned to Australia in 1907 as an evangelist and addressed an audience at the Melbourne Wesley Church on ‘Can an Actress be a Christian’, where she denounced the immorality of the theatre and its ruination of young women.

True to the theatrical theme, another of Dyson’s cartoon was a New Year’s card for 1905 to his theatrical friend the actor manager Bland Holt.

Ambrose Dyson: ‘THE TEMPTER. Miss Ada Ward claims that the actress cannot be a Christian because of the terrible temptations that constantly assail her—AGE.
Dyson’s retort: True, every man in the world will admit that the pretty actress has to encounter fascinations and allurements of which her humdrum stay-at-home sisters can know nothing.’

Bulletin (Sydney), 9 May 1907, p.18.

Ambrose Dyson: New Year’s card to actor-manager Bland Holt, who is depicted tickling the ‘grim old world’ with his cane. Dated 1905.

State Library of Victoria, Melbourne

One of the lesser known Australian black and white cartoonists of the early 1900s is George Dunstan (1876–1946) who drew under the pen name ‘Zif’. Besides the general run of publications, Zif also contributed cartoons to the Sydney Sportsman and the Australian Worker and was chief cartoonist for the International Socialist Magazine. As one of his many attributes, Zif also took to the stage, regularly performing across Australia as a lightning sketch artist, often billed as ‘Chats in Charcoal’.

Illustrative of his style, Zif created a series of cartoons on ‘Suburban Drama’ for the Bulletin in September 1909. One was captioned, ‘East Lynne in the Suburbs’.

George Dunstan (Zif): ‘East Lynne in the Suburbs: Barbara Hare: “Alas! Alas! Why did he pass me over for a baby-faced chit like that?”.’

Bulletin (Sydney), 9 September 1909, p.10

Harry Julius: ‘Zif: The well-known cartoonist, now appearing at the Melrose Theatre. He is the greatest “drawing” card in Australia’

Truth (Perth), 22 March 1913, p.11

Around 1910, Zif produced a series of coloured postcards for the New South Wales Bookstall Co., in their ‘Art Series’. One set of six cards, ‘Theatrical Travesties’ embodied caricatures of ‘theatre types’, a style which typified his work.

George Dunstan (Zif): ‘Theatrical Travesties: The Scalem Dramatic Coy.
LANDLORD: “I want your board money in advance.”
MANAGER: Have you no heart for these poor orphans?”
LANDLORD: Yes, I have a heart, but it takes cash in advance to touch it.”’

Courtesy of Gary Davies

George Dunstan (Zif): ‘Theatrical Travesties: Scene from East Lynne. Owing to circumstances the parts of “Little Willie” and “Francis Levison” had to be doubled.
LITTLE WILLIE: “Why do you cry Madame Vine. I’m not your Little Willie!”’

Courtesy of Gary Davies

Mick Paul(1888–1945), a Sydney cartoonist of the early twentieth century, contributed to the Bulletin, Lone Hand, Comic Australia, Lilley’s Magazine (cover designs) and the Australian Worker. Paul was well-known for his bohemian lifestyle, his socialist views and anti-conscription cartoons and was a foundation member of the Society of Australian Black and White Artists.

Paul’s cartoon, ‘TOO HOT’, offered a social comment on the influenza which devastated Australia around 1919, while ‘NATURALLY’ presents a feminist view on the prevailing gender imbalance in theatre life.

Mick Paul: TOO HOT—The Manager: “This influenza scare doesn’t seem to have made much difference to us—house full every night.” The Star: “No influenza germ could come within a mile of this show – they hate warmth.”

Bulletin (Sydney), 19 December 1918, p.30

Mick Paul: NATURALLY—Flo: “That beast of a stage manager has complained again about us talking on the stage. He wouldn’t do that if we were men.”

Bulletin (Sydney), 7 November 1918, p.30

Bert Levy(1871–1934) described as a clever black and white artist and showman, began his working life as an apprentice scenic artist at the Theatre Royal, Melbourne. A prolific creator, Levy was published in Melbourne Punch, the Mirror, Table Talk, drew cartoons and theatrical caricatures for the Bulletin, was the dramatic critic for the Bendigo Adventurer and cartoonist for the Age, Leader magazine. Levy travelled to America in the early 1900s where he worked for Weber and Fields Music Hall, then the Morning Telegraph while running vaudeville shows in New York.¹⁰

Examples of his work include ‘In a Vaudeville Green Room’, a cartoon which shows several performers waiting in a dedicated space—‘the green room’ before going on stage. Another is of Hugh Ward in The Emerald Isle. Ward was a major figure in Australian theatre as an actor and entrepreneur. He was one time managing director of J.C. Williamson Ltd. and after resigning from that position, formed Hugh J. Ward Theatres Ltd. in partnership with the Fuller brothers.

Bert Levy: ‘In a Vaudeville Green Room’

Lone Hand (Sydney), 1 February 1912, p.299

Bert Levy: ‘Hugh Ward in The Emerald Isle’

Bulletin (Sydney), 28 March 1903 p. 10

Bert Levy: Self-portrait, 1906: ‘As Bert Levy sees himself from the New York Morning Telegraph’

J. Willis Sayre Photograph Collection, University of Washington Libraries, Seattle, USA

By the 1920s, Smith’s Weekly had become the premiere source of cartoons in Australia and unlike other publications their cartoonists were on the pay role, not freelancers. To emphasise this and introduce their staff to the public, the magazine often presented cartoons as composite drawings where all artists contributed; the cartoonists and their characters appeared side by side.¹¹

A variation of the composite cartoon can be seen in the work of, Syd Miller(1901–1983), who joined Smith’s Weekly in 1919 and worked there for some 22 years as a cartoonist and film and stage reviewer.

Miller’s illustrations of ‘Sally in Our Majesty’s’ and ‘Six People Who Make The Flaw’ are examples of his style.

Syd Miller: ‘Sally in Our Majesty’s’, with (from left to right) Hugh Steyne, Gracie Laver, George Gee, Josie Melville (out of and in the kitchen), George Baker, George Lane

Smith’s Weekly (Sydney), 27 January 1923, p.12

Syd Miller: ‘Six People Who Make The Flaw—Mayne Lynton, Frank Harvey, Sheila Helpman, Emelie Pollini, Raymond Lawrence, Nancye Stewart’

Smith’s Weekly (Sydney), 10 February 1923, p. 12

Lance Driffield(1898–1943) was a newspaper and magazine cartoonist and illustrator during the 1920s and 30s, drawing under the pen name ‘Driff’. Driffield started his career as a process engraver and went on to work for the Sunday Times, Truth and Smith’s Weekly.

Typical of his work is the cartoon of Mother Goose which stared Roy Rene and Nat Phillips (‘Stiffy and Mo’), two of the most significant comedians of the period.

Lance Driffield: ‘Mother Goose at the Sydney Hippodrome: Stiffy and Mo try to discover what the Dame would like for supper’

Smith’s Weekly (Sydney), 13 January 1923, p.12

Ray Whiting: ‘Windsor, Edgar and Kellaway, three bright Musical Fellows at the Tivoli Circuit’

Smith’s Weekly (Sydney), 5 April 1924, p.12

Ray Whiting (1898–1975) contributed cartoons to Smith’s Weekly, Table Talk and the Bulletin in the 1920s and 30s and later sketched for the AIF ‘News’ when serving with the 9th Division Camouflage Training Unit in the Middle East during WW2. Arthur Streeton once said his cartoons display a fine decorative sense, good drawing and imagination. ‘Some of the works are weirdly grotesque, and yet they are wickedly like the objects caricatured.’¹²

These qualities are evident in his portrayal of Windsor, Edgar and Kellaway, a brilliant musical trio from the London Hippodrome, and Joe Brennan, Charles Heslop and particularly Oliver Peacock from Mother Goose. Peacock is an interesting figure. He had a long association with the Australian musical stage, playing support roles to Florence Young, Carrie Moore and Dorothy Brunton. Notably, in 1922, he was understudy to Oscar Asche when Asche took Cairo and Chu Chin Chow to New Zealand.

Ray Whiting: ‘Joe Brennan (Mother Goose) and Charles Heslop (Fitzrabbit) in Hugh Ward’s panto, Melbourne Palace’

Smith’s Weekly, 26 January 1924, p.12

Ray Whiting: ‘Mother Goose’s offsider at the Melbourne Palace—Oliver Peacock as Squire Hardflint’

Smith’s Weekly, 26 January 1924, p.12

Alec Sass (Sass) (c.1870–1922) drew for Melbourne Punch and its humorous page between 1896-1912, where he introduced the Sass girl, Sass policeman and Sass johnnie. After working at the New York Journal, Sass joined Smith’s Weekly in around 1921 as an artist and art editor. As art editor he was responsible for teaching staff artists to draw for reproduction on newsprint. Like other Smith’s artists, Sass also drew composite cartoons, a style which is well-illustrated in his cartoon ‘Fooling Around at Fuller’s Panto on a Hot Night’. Another portrait shows an exceedingly stout Oscar Asche in Cairo, which was playing at Her Majesty’s Theatre in Sydney.

Alec Sass: ‘Fooling Around at Fuller’s Panto on a Hot Night’

Smith’s Weekly (Sydney), 7 January 1922, p.10

Alec Sass: ‘Cairo: If Oscar gets any stouter we hope he gets transparent’

Smith’s Weekly (Sydney), 23 September 1922, p.12

Will Donald(1883–1959) was a pioneering cartoonist of the period who contributed to mainstream and socialist newspapers and magazines, including the Bulletin, Quit, Gadfly and the Critic. Donald was one of Australia’s early comic artists.

Examples of his work include a caricature of the Late F.H. Pollock, Lessee Theatre Royal Adelaide. Pollock was an actor and theatre entrepreneur. He acquired the lease of the Royal in 1900 from Wybert Reeve (English actor and impresario) but, following illness, Pollock appointed a manager in his stead. Pollock died in 1908. Interestingly, George Coppin was the first lessee of the theatre.

Another of Donald’s caricatures, published in the Sydney Sun during 1910, depicts Julius Knight and Reynolds Denniston in the romantic drama Henry of Navarre, set in seventeenth century Europe.

His signature profile style is also evident in his caricatures of Victor Loydall and Rupert Darrell in the pantomime Jack and Jill from the Sydney Sun; while his portraits of Oscar Asche and Lily Brayton in The Taming of the Shrew are rare pieces of original artwork.

Will Donald: A caricature of ‘The Late F.H. Pollock, Lessee Theatre Royal Adelaide’

Bulletin (Sydney), 19 November 1908, p.18

Will Donald: ‘Julius Knight as Henry of Navarre and Reynolds Denniston as his faithful watch dog’

Star(Sydney), 13 June 1910, p.7

Will Donald: ‘Victor Loydall as Perks’ and ‘Rupert Darrell as Baron Bounce’ in the pantomime Jack and Jillat the Theatre Royal in Sydney

Star (Sydney), 27 September 1909, p.2

Will Donald: ‘Oscar Asche as Petruchio’ and ‘Lily Brayton “Tamed”’ Drawn during Oscar Asche’s 1909 Sydney Shakespeare season at the Criterion.

National Library of Australia, Canberra

Tasmanian-born Alf Vincent(1874–1915) joined Melbourne Punch in 1895 and a year later he succeeded Tom Carrington as feature artist for the magazine. Vincent joined the Bulletin in 1898 and drew for the magazine until his death in 1915. His style of work was similar to that of Phil May (his mentor) for which he was often criticised by his contemporaries.

Outside the usual run of newspaper and magazine caricatures, Vincent did a fine piece of work in a theatrical souvenir, a pamphlet consisting of twelve sketches (some in colour) of performers in J.C. Williamson’s Comic Opera Co. production of San Toy which premiered on 21 December 1901 at Her Majesty’s Theatre, Melbourne. On the occasion of the fiftieth performance of the show on 8 February 1902, a portfolio of sketches was handed out to every lady visitor.

Alf Vincent: Carrie Moore in the title role of San Toy—“I’m not a littee Boy—I’m a Littee Girl.’ From San Toy: Sketches by Alf Vincent.

State Library of Victoria, Melbourne.

Alf Vincent: Grace Palotta as ‘Dudley’. From San Toy: Sketches by Alf Vincent.

State Library of Victoria, Melbourne

Alf Vincent: ‘Poppy gives Fo Hop a piece of her mind.’ From San Toy: Sketches by Alf Vincent.

State Library of Victoria, Melbourne

Donald MacDonald (Pas)(1862–1945) was one of the finest caricaturists of the early 20th century to freelance his work to several magazines and newspapers in Australia and New Zealand. The scope of his work was not restricted to a particular theme, but he was particularly noted for his caricatures of theatre personnel.

For Sydney Sportsman he contributed studies of well-known theatrical personalities Bland Holt and Julius Grant. Actor-manager Bland Holt, nicknamed the ‘King of Melodrama’, was known for his elaborate stagings of Drury Lane melodramas which he produced at the Lyceum Theatre in Sydney and Theatre Royal in Melbourne. Julius Grant established theatrical enterprises with Bert Bailey and was lessee of King’s Theatre for 15 years. He produced several shows including the record breaking On Our Selection. He also introduced Melbourne audiences to stars such as Oscar Asche and Lily Brayton.

In response to the composer and music teacher Signor Roberto Hazon receiving an address and testimonial from His Excellency the Governor on the occasion of his farewell performance in Sydney, Pas provided a likeness for Sydney Sportsman.

During the 1920s, for Everyone’s, he contributed a sketch of Miss Aylet, ‘Australia’s only trap drummer’ who was performing at Sydney’s Crystal Palace.

Donald MacDonald (Pas): Signor Hazon on the occasion of his farewell to Sydney

Sydney Sportsman, 25 September 1907, p.2

Donald MacDonald (Pas): ‘Julius Grant (Business Manager, Criterion Theatre)’

Sydney Sportsman, 4 December 1907, p.2

Donald MacDonald (Pas): ‘Bland Holt etcetera’, drawn while Holt was performing in the melodrama Women and Wine at the Theatre Royal

Sydney Sportsman,15 March 1905, p.2

Donald MacDonald (Pas): ‘Miss Aylet, Australia’s only trap drummer at the Crystal Palace, Sydney’

Everyone’s (Sydney), 16 July 1924, p.18

Tom Ferry (1891–1954) started his working life as an apprentice with John Sands Ltd. doing lithographic work and before qualifying, he was seconded to work for the Sun newspaper for two years, eventually joining Union Theatres Ltd., drawing and designing posters, advertisements and lobby cards. In the early 1920s Ferry had a casual arrangement with the Sydney Sunday Times to provide weekly cartoons and by 1925 he was the official artist to Fox Films in Sydney.¹³

Examples of his work that appeared in the Sunday Times includes the actors Cyril Gardiner, Frederick Lloyd, Frank Hatherley and Claude Dampier. A drawing he did of visiting English actor Seymour Hicks as Mr William Busby (Old Bill) in the play Old Bill, MP, was published on the programme cover.

Tom Ferry: Frederick Lloyd as Alf in The Man in Dress Clothesat the Sydney Opera House

Sunday Times(Sydney), 29 June 1924, p.24

Tom Ferry: Claude Dampier. who was appearing in revue at Fullers’ Theatre in Sydney

Sunday Times(Sydney), 13 July 1924, p.20

Tom Ferry: Cyril Gardiner in Old Bill, MP

Sunday Times(Sydney), 6 July 1924, p.22

Tom Ferry: Cover of the programme for Old Bill, MP at the Palace Theatre, Melbourne, 20 September 1924, with Seymour Hicks as the title character

Elisabeth Kumm collection

Brodie Mack (1897–1965) combined his cartooning skills with his role as a theatrical business manager. A New Zealander, he initially worked for the Wellington Freelance as a cartoonist before becoming a theatre executive with positions as House Manager for Fullers at His Majesty’s Theatre in Wellington and then with Fullers Opera House in Auckland. Mack later moved to Sydney as Booking Manager for Fullers Vaudeville and Theatre Ltd. He was a founding member of the Society of Australian Black and White Artists in 1924 and did cartoons for Everyone’s, Fuller News, the Bulletin, Aussie, Smith’s Weekly and others.

Examples of his work from Everyone’s included Lee White, ‘the cheerful star of The Girl for the Boy’ at the Sydney Tivoli; and ‘Carter the Great’ (stage name of the American illusionist Charles Carter), who thrilled audiences with his disappearing lion act.

During 1924/24 Mack drew a series of 16 caricatures for Everyone’s titled ‘If Managers Were Artists’. Number 5 in the series depicts JCW theatre manager Tom Holt.

Brodie Mack: Lee White, the cheerful star of The Girl for the Boy, Tivoli Theatre, Sydney

Everyone’s (Sydney), 8 December 1920, p. 10

Brodie Mack: ‘CARTER (not forgetting his lion): The Magic Man at the Sydney Royal’

Everyone’s (Sydney), 16 June 1920, p.11

Brodie Mack: ‘If Managers Were Artists. No.5.’: Tommy Holt, Manager of the Theatre Royal, Melbourne (J.C. Williamson Vaudeville), ‘one of the Leaders of the Tait Navee’

Everyone’s (Sydney), 3 September 1924, p.5

From the early 1900s to the late 1920s the profession of black and white artists was predominantly a male profession, and few women artists were actively involved. There were, however, a number of fine women artists well recognised for their black and white cartoons and caricatures, including Mahdi McCrae, Esther and Betty Paterson, Grace Burns and Ruby Lindsay who were regular but casual contributors to various publications. Later, Joan Morrison and Mollie Horseman were the first women to be employed on the pay roll of Smith’s Weekly.

Typically, the work of these artists, while stylish and amusing, was placed away from the theatrical section of the magazines and appeared randomly throughout, usually as page filler ‘gag’ cartoons or to illustrate ‘women’ stories.

An exception to how the cartoons of women were typically treated was the work of Esther Paterson(1892–1971) who was a student at the National Gallery of Victoria from 1907–1912. A talented artist of street scenes and landscapes, Paterson later applied her skill to commercial art, book illustrating and caricatures/cartoons. Her theatrical caricatures were regularly featured in the Melbourne Punch pre first World War and were prominently featured on the ‘Playgoer’ pages. Her caricatures often featured female performers and her artistic style of her caricatures is markedly different to that of her male contemporaries—her women are more feminine and sensual.

Esther Paterson: Miss Zola Terrill and Ada Reeve

Punch (Melbourne), 7 February 1918, p.37 & 31 January 1918, p.195

Esther Paterson: Maude Fane and Miss Frediswyde Hunter-Watts

Punch (Melbourne), 6 September 1917, p.595 & 12 April 1917, p.595

To be concluded in the next issue.

Endnotes

1. See Elisabeth Kumm, ‘Theatre in Melbourne 1914-18: the best, the brightest and the latest’, La Trobe Journal, No. 97, March 2016

2. Punch (Melbourne), 27 May 1909, p.730.

3. ‘A Life’s Romance’, Bulletin (Sydney), 25 August 1904, p.10.

4. See The Bookfellow (Sydney), 1 July 1913, p.xvii.

5. Lone Hand (Sydney), 1 August 1912, p. 352.

6. Bulletin (Sydney), 16 June 1921, p.42.

7. Bulletin, 1 August 1912, p.10.

8. Argus (Melbourne), 8 September 1938, p.9.

9. Bulletin (Sydney), 26 March 1925, p. 35.

10. See Bert Levy, ‘Bert Levy (by Himself)’, Lone Hand (Sydney), 1 February 1912.

11. Joan Kerr, Artists and Cartoonist in Black and White: The most public art.

12. Argus (Melbourne), 7 August 1934, p.5.

13. See ‘Knights of the Pencil and Brush, No. 3: Tom Ferry’, Everyone’s, 29 April 1925, p.30.

References

‘Black and Whiters IV: Alfred Vincent’, The Bookfellow (Sydney), 1 January 1913, pp. 20–21.

‘Black and Whiters VII: Harry Julius’, The Bookfellow (Sydney), 1 July 1913, p. xvii-xix.

David M. Dow, Melbourne Savages: A history of the first fifty years of the Melbourne Savage Club, Melbourne Savage Club, Melbourne, 1947.

W.E. Fitz Henry, ‘Stories of “Bulletin” Artists’, Bulletin (Sydney), 14 December 1955, pp. 26–28, 32.

Harry Julius, Theatrical Caricatures, with Marginal Anecdotes by Claude McKay, NSW Bookstall Co. Ltd., 1912.

Joan Kerr, Artists and Cartoonist in Black and White: The most public art, National Trust of Australia, Sydney, c.1999.

‘Knights of the Pencil and Brush, No. 3: Tom Ferry’, Everyone’s, 29 April 1925, p.30.

Elisabeth Kumm, ‘Theatre in Melbourne 1914–18: the best, the brightest and the latest’, La Trobe Journal, No. 97, March 2016, pp.6–23, www.slv.vic.gov.au/sites/default/files/La-Trobe-Journal-97-Elisabeth-Kumm.pdf

Bert Levy, ‘Bert Levy (by Himself)’, Lone Hand (Sydney), Vol. 10, No. 58, 1 February 1912, pp. 293–300.

Ross McMullin, Will Dyson: Australia’s radical genius, Scribe, North Carlton, Vic, 2006.

Carol Mills, ‘In Black and White: The little-known Lindsay: Ruby Lindsay’, This Australia, Winter 1984, pp.80-85, available from Women’s Museum of Australia, wmoa.com.au/uploads/the-little-known-Lindsay.pdf

Les Tanner, ‘The Black and White Maestros’, Bulletin (Sydney), 29 January 1980, pp.134–142.

M.G. Skipper, ‘The Art of the Bulletin’, Bulletin (Sydney), 29 January 1930, pp.40–42.

Acknowledgements

Special thanks to Elisabeth Kumm for her advice and comments.

Ready, Set, Go!

It was the Grand Opera Season of 1924 (I had been with JCW for just one year). The cast was headed by Nellie Melba and included quite a galaxy of talent: Toti dal Monte, Dion Borgioli, Apollo Granforte and Lina Scavizzi. It was tremendous fun watching, and trying, without understanding the language, to interpret the arguments, the actions and the antics which were constantly waged between the producer, the chorus master, the prompter, and the musical director. It was a battle which never seemed to end. In the ‘Nile scene’ in Aida with Franco Paolantonio, the chief maestro of the orchestra conducting, there were three notes on the timpani the drummer just could not get right.

To you and me, ‘da-da-da’ just means ‘da-da-da’ and nothing else. To Paul Antonio’s super-sensitive ear, they were either off beat or out of tune—which, I never did discover. After three attempts and three failures to satisfy him, and after holding up the orchestra three times, Paul’s rage and frustration reached the point of explosion. With arms stretched above his head, he broke his baton in halves, tore at his hair, and burst into loud sobs. Astonishment kept everybody silent.

It always came to my mind along with memories of Hamlet ‘It then draws the season—Wherein the spirit held his want to walk’ whenever I crossed the darkened stage of the Princess Theatre. It was necessary to put out all the lights before leaving the paint room, the switch being at the top of the stairs. In total darkness, with a loose board creaking eerily, one watched one’s step, particularly if one had once crashed over a chair in the line of travel. It is quite an experience crossing one hundred feet in total darkness, recalling the ghost of the Princess. During one Grand Opera performance of Faustat Melbourne’s Princess in 1888 Federici (Federick Baker) as Mephistopheles, in a puff of smoke, falls through a trap from the stage to the cellar. Nothing seemed amiss during the performance, everything had gone according to plan, except that when he reached the cellar he was later found to be dead.

Federici (Frederic Baker). From TheAustralasian Sketcher, 22 March 1888.

State Library Victoria, Melbourne

Cover of program for the 1924 Grand Opera season at Her Majesty’s Theatre, Melbourne

Australian Performing Arts Collection, Arts Centre Melbourne

Again about Grand Opera, and now in 1965, the Joan Sutherland Season will always be memorable for the repercussions on my department. There was a terrific amount of unnecessary work and worry which were all the result of inexperience. A very charming girl (Tonina Dorati, daughter of the great Antal Dorati) did the designs for all that season’s operas and although her charm was undeniable, alas, so was her inexperience. The first batch of designs came from London and they were for the first opera to be presented, which was Lucia di Lammermoor. The heads of departments were all called up to the Director’s office and were shown the sketches. As inevitably happens with such drawings, they had not been done to scale. This in itself was a frightful mistake and caused no end of complications.

The sketches showed sets of such gigantic dimensions that I remarked, somewhat sardonically I’m afraid, ‘If the curtain goes up at eight o’clock, the house will come out at two am.’ This sally received only a disdainful look. The design for the ‘mad scene’ was of such huge proportions that it swept from Opposite Prompt (OP) to Prompt Side (PS) and nearly touched the stage’s back wall. Everybody who knew the theatre (Her Majesty’s) and stage agreed that the set-up was completely and utterly impossible. However, some semblance had to be kept to the original in any of the alterations which we made.

The only yardstick for measurement was the recognized height of a step, which was about six or seven inches. Then, by counting the number of steps at these increases, it was possible to arrive at the height of the rostrum where the steps finished. From memory, I think I made this height to be seventeen feet—utterly impossible at the distance at which the back of the set was placed. Only the first rows of stall seats would see any action up there. All these sketches had been passed by the powers that be, so we had to get out of it as tactfully and safely as was possible. It was quite out of the question to use the drawings for construction and after a bit of anxious consultation, we eventually agreed on a ten-foot-high platform. This set, along with the others, was then constructed.

At one rehearsal, the Prima Donna made her entrance onto the platform from the OP side (left from the audience’s point of view). She was singing in full voice—the Mad Scene—and Joan Sutherland was at her truly magnificent best. The cast was standing gaping in amazed admiration. At the balcony, before descending the steps, Sutherland bent her knees and made the long descent in the same attitude. Arriving at the bottom, she waved her hand and asked ‘Can you see me at the back of the stalls?’

Each scene was rehearsed for setting and striking. Then the day arrived for a full rehearsal of all scenes and with the entire company. After cutting down the wall surrounding the platform of the first scene three times, both it and the platform were scrapped. The platform in the second scene was also thrown out—there simply was not time to set and strike it. Following that, one whole scene was thrown onto the scrap heap. Two thousand pounds worth of work and material careered merrily down the drain.

Covent Garden, 1959—Joan Sutherland’s first performance of Lucia di Lammermoor

 

19th century design by Hawes Craven for Faust

Miles Kenyon collection

There was the incident concerning a designer, with an extremely lofty and quite unjustified idea of his own importance, being especially imported from England to do an opera. He came with his sketches prepared and announced importantly to the quite mystified carpenters that his style was ‘free’! In spite of this blithe explanation, they continued to regard his drawings of bent columns and falling-over walls—doubtfully. He would come up to the paint room, pick up his sketch and insist that every brush stroke and variation of colour be faithfully copied. Incidentally, while he was in the paint room one night, putting some artistic touches to a cloak which needed to look old and rain-sodden, he had practically flooded the floor. I’m afraid I told him a few home truths.

It was inevitable that a man of his tyrannical type would wait his opportunity to catch me out. One day he decided that the time was right for getting his own back. Joyfully, he picked out a blob in the corner of a design, saying triumphantly, ‘This very nice piece of variation has been left out. Why?’ His triumph was short-lived. I explained to him very happily that that particular piece of decoration was simply a smear of colour we had put on ourselves when matching the hue. One hoped that his ego was at least a little dinted.

Wildflower (1924),Acts 1 & 3 set. JCW Scene Books, Book 07-0016, Theatre Heritage Australia.

We were taught never to try and get self-publicity by the design of our sets. If the sets are meant to produce atmosphere, they should take their place, do their job perfectly, and be forgotten. If they are so blatant that the audience is attracted to them, they are not serving their purpose. But sometimes the show opens with an empty scene, and it is then the scenic artist may let himself go, and maybe receive a round of applause. The opening scene of Wildflower(1924) with Marie Burke reproduced a village square at the foot of a range of mountains. As the lamplighter makes his rounds, putting out the lamps, the sun is rising. The effect achieved by Mr. Coleman was really spectacular. As the sun rose it hit the top of a mountain, then slowly illuminated the whole side of it, the lighting slowly fading in on the scene at the same time until the sun was fully up and the scene fully lit. Of course, in those days the scenic artist lit his scenery—today there are lighting experts who use, I think, dozens of spots in a less effective way than that of the old floods and light battens. Also, there is too much building of architraves, cornice moulds, etc. There are very few designers who have had paint room experience and served a theatre apprenticeship. The audience is of course aware that the background is only painted canvas on a wooden frame and accept it as such. This supposes always that the painting of the scenery is up to a standard. In my experience, not one person in a thousand cares two hoots about art in the theatre—they want entertainment, good acting and good music. (Editor’s note: I hate to think this is still true to this day!)

JCW staff, c.1920—including Coleman father and son, and George Upward

Miles Kenyon collection

Googie Withers and John McCallum

Australian Performing Arts Collection, Arts Centre Melbourne

One of the best sets I ever painted was the result of a disagreement between a team consisting of a husband and wife. The husband, John McCallum, was the producer, and he talked to me about the set for the show, its locale Scotland. It was decided that the timber interior should be painted a honey colour to represent Scotch Fir. This was done, and a lot of careful, very nice work went into the painting. When the scenery was set up on stage, the following dialogue took place:

Googie Withers: It should be grey.

John McCallum: But it’s a Scotch interior of pine wood.

GW: (Very decidedly) It should be grey.

JMcC: But it’s such a lovely set.

GW: (More decidedly) It should be grey.

JMcC: (Resignedly) Okay. But it will have to be repainted.

So it was repainted although there was scarcely any time to have it back on the frame, as it was wanted for rehearsal. So, I had it laid out flat on the trestles, one piece at a time. We mixed a bucket of grey glazed colour and hurriedly slopped it over the flats. Before they were dry, they were taken off the trestles and stood up. The colour settled in puddles in some places, then it ran off here and there, occasionally missing some areas. By accident and without design, the set was wonderful. If we had spent weeks on the painting, the result would never have been half so effective.  Such lucky accidents do sometimes happen.

Oscar Asche, actor, producer and more. Photographer unknown. From a postcard by J. Beagles & Co., London.

Elisabeth Kumm collection

George A. Highland, 1925. Cartoon by Tom Glover.

National Portrait Gallery, Canberra

Perhaps the most outstanding, and the best of all the producers, was Oscar Asche (1871-1936). As well as being a superb actor and producer, he was a master of lighting. He disliked giving what he considered to be ‘unnecessary explanations’. For example, he would say to an electrician, ‘Put a row of lamps up here on the fly rails, and don’t ask me if I need any on the other side. The sun only shines one way.’

He was a big man in every way. His completely authentic thoroughness in production was evidenced at its best in The Skin Game (1925). In this play the script called for him to be drowned in a canal. The dour North Country man was drowned, and he stayed drowned—he never took a curtain call at the end of the show. This piece of realism added considerably to the play’s impact on the audience. He produced Chu Chin Chow (early 1920s) magnificently. Then there was Cairo (1922) and Julius Caesar (also 1920s) in which he was an unforgettable Marc Antony. Julius Caesar was presented in black drapery. I remember him coming up to the paint room to consult Mr. Coleman about the black velvet for the surround and he was shown three or four samples of velvet. Then he enquired, ‘Which is the most expensive?’ He was told and he said, ‘Well, that’s the one I want.’ He was indeed a perfectionist.

Gladys Moncrieff, centre, and full cast onstage in A Southern Maid, 1924. Photo by Talma, Melbourne. National Library of Australia, Canberra.

When he produced Southern Maid (1923) starring Gladys Moncrieff the rehearsal was not up to his standard of perfection. It was a rehearsal of the orange-groves scene and had been painted by Coleman. Oscar Asche ordered all the cast into the stalls and when he had them all there, he pronounced, ‘Take a look at that scene. Now, go back and act up to it.’ He never asked—he ordered. He was even known to use his not-inconsiderable weight to emphasize his meaning. He stood no nonsense from anyone.

Another producer who was a character in his own right was George A. Highland (1870-1954). He was another man who really knew his job, and how to get the best out of everyone. He himself was an arrant exhibitionist and invariably on a first night when he took his curtain call, he would partially undress and appear in a state of collapse. Though on one occasion his roughed-up appearance for his curtain call had been acquired the hard way. There was a platform which moved up and down the stage, pulled by a wire. In his haste to take his call, George forgot about the wire and tripped, falling headlong onto the stage. The boys rushed to pick him up and help him to take his call, but he was very shaken and had no need to simulate distress that night.

The stage staff who see all the shows, watching with the closest attention a tremendous variety of performers and performances, get a real education in the theatre, and they are never at a loss for an answer. Their repartee is usually terse and very much to the point. They develop over the years a very particular sense of humour, typical of and peculiar to, the stage. With a sprinkling of profanity, their descriptions are usually both trenchant and apt—they pounce on the funny side of any development and are always quick to turn any situation into a joke.

The Russian Osipov Balalaika Orchestra was rehearsing on stage for the first time (1937) and I stayed to listen for a few minutes. Going back to the paint room I was followed by one of the stage staff. He asked if I had heard the Russians playing, and was I there at the end of the number which happened to be the finale of the show...? I told him I had come away before the end. He grinned, then said that they had begun very softly, making only a faint sound and then worked up to a great crashing crescendo, only to stop abruptly. The conductor cut them off suddenly with a lightning fall of his baton. Then he turned around dramatically to the audience and roared ‘Ooos-a pop!’ A small voice from the back squeaked ‘I am.’ This bit of typical humour was apparently conceived on the spot.

An imported producer was rehearsing a show which contained a children’s ballet within its production. The kids had jacked up for some reason only known to themselves and were making no progress whatever. They seemed too dumb-struck and listless to try and get anything right. The producer made them go over and over the same thing with no appreciable results and, driven desperate by their non-co-operation, he made them an offer of two shillings each if they only got somewhere near the effect he wanted. He said, ‘Now let’s try it again.’ This time it was nearly perfect. The producer was heard to mutter, ‘I’ve come 12,000 miles to be taken in by a lot of bloody Australian kids...’

One very satisfactory painting job (in films) was the reproduction of an all-black marble hotel foyer—the St. Francis—in, I think, Los Angeles. On a sheet of glass, with various tones, from black to white, of plaster, we turned out slabs of very creditable and credible imitation marble. Pouring on the black, cracking the glass, we then poured on the grey and white mixtures. Viewing the job by a mirror under the sheet of glass, we were able to control the effect. The large round columns were more difficult, but we made them on a form quite successfully. Whilst on technique, practically anything from brick walls to palm trees can be replicated using plaster moulds, made from casts of the job.

The Lady of the Rose, Act 1 set

JCW Scene Books, Book 01-0050, Theatre Heritage Australia

The Lady of the Rose, Act 2 & 3 set

JCW Scene Books, Book 01-0050, Theatre Heritage Australia

As an example of the futility of building features of interiors I give the opening scene of Lady of the Rose (1925) as a classic. This set was completely fabricated by Wunderlich in pressed metal. All the columns’ bases and caps, cornices, friezes and architraves were in this pressed metal and it was an utter failure as the lighting flattened it all. Mr. Coleman gave me the job of climbing all over the set, painting in the darks and the highlights, on this reproduction of the entrance to the Royal Academy in London’s Burlington Arcade. This meant I had to paint between the acanthus leaves and volutes of the capitals, the ornamentation of the friezes and the flutes of the columns. Then I had to add the highlights for the lot—it involved my going up and down a ladder all day long, until the work was finished. This building of separate parts in set construction never works out successfully, because always, and I emphasize always, it becomes necessary to paint in the darks and lights afterwards. If this is not done, it all appears to be completely flat. Painted moulding is unquestionably the best way for stage presentation.

From my workroom I had a clear view of the hiring department, when I once spied someone handling a lion’s head—which brings me in on cue. One of the important people I had with me in the Production Studio was a man called Max Krumbach. He was the modeller and plaster expert, and a complete master of his job. He could extricate a plaster mould from a cast, nearly as thin as cardboard. His father was a sculptor mason, and Max related to me the following story. Incidentally, I later had the opportunity to verify every word he uttered. His father and another man were the sculptors who modelled the lion’s heads which adorn the base corners on each side of the Sydney Town Hall. The foreman builder on the job was an irascible old Scot and when he was making his rounds it was his habit to contort his face into a leering mask of disapproval as he observed the progress. 

Eventually the building was completed and ready for the opening ceremony. The last job was of course the cleaning up. At the end of the building, against the last corner, had been stacked a huge heap of timber. This was the last thing to be removed and when the workmen pulling the leaning boards away, there was the lion’s head. No-one seeing it could doubt that it was a clever caricature—there was the characteristic leer and grimace of the old Scot, carved into the lion’s visage.

The same Max Krumbach had modelled a huge whale for one of the floats in Sydney’s Sesquicentenary Celebrations. He had finished the wire netting and the plaster-work on the whale, and it was ready for painting. The man whom I deputized to paint the job was a rather bumptious type who had managed to get under Krumbach’s skin. Every time this chap attempted to commence painting, a stentorian voice would boom out ‘Keep off that bloody whale!’ In the interests of peace and progress, I had to replace this painter with someone more acceptable to Krumbach, the master.

Setting for Roar Like a Dove

National Library of Australia, Canberra

Set for a G&S opera—an example of the complexity of painting and modelling involved

Miles Kenyon collection

To be continued