Minnie Everett

Back to Gilbert and Sullivan in Australia

ONE of the most enviable things about the gift of a voice, is the opportunity it gives for travel. I certainly have been exceptionally lucky in that respect, having toured Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Egypt, Palestine, Syria, Lebanon and the Western Desert in North Africa, all at the management's expense.

During my second winter season with the Sadler's Wells Opera Company, I came back to my flat one day to find a telephone message. Would I ring Mr Nevin Tait at his office? The Tait brothers are the operative members of the old-established firm of Tait & Williamson, who are responsible for most of the big theatrical productions in Australia and New Zealand. Calling at their office I was asked if I would go to Australia in a tour of the Gilbert and Sullivan operas.

From the professional point it was no doubt unwise to leave London, if I wanted to make a career in grand opera, but such a chance of seeing the world was too good to be resisted. So for the second time in my career I went from grand opera to Gilbert and Sullivan.

Six principals from England were to go out to join the existing Australian company, among them Gregory Stroud, who had made such a success in the 1926 London season at Princes Theatre. The others were, Evelyn Gardiner, Richard Watson (also a recruit from grand opera), Godfrey Stirling and Ivan Menzies (who plays the [Henry] Lytton [principal comic] parts).

Evelyn Gardiner

Ivan Menzies

Godfrey Stirling

Gregory Stroud

Richard Watson

We left on board the P. & O. liner Mongolia in March, 1935. My sister-in-law brought [my nephews] Kenneth and Derek to Tilbury to see me off, and there the two boys explored the big ship that was to take us to the other side of the world. They gave me a present before we left. It was a large block of writing-paper, and a pencil, for me to write and tell them about the Buggins while I was away.

Later on that day I lay in my cabin—not seasick, but very exhausted after the frantic rush I'd had to get everything ready at only three weeks' notice to leave for Australia. I watched, fascinated, a bunch of long-stemmed tulips in a vase in my cabin, their heavy heads gently rising and falling to the movement of the ship, as if they were alive and breathing. And to while away the time I wrote another adventure for the boys, a magic carpet, inevitably bringing them to the ship where, of course, they played havoc with the machinery and stopped the engines, and had to escape the captain's wrath riding away on a dolphin's back.

It was a long voyage, but full of interest. There is nothing quite to equal the thrill of one's first arrival at Port Said, and one's first glimpse of the East; but it has all been described over and over again in travel books, and far better than my pen could ever hope to do. So I will not attempt to enlarge upon the sights we saw on that voyage.

There was one sight, however, which I had never previously read about or heard anyone mention. Our ship stopped at Port Sudan, and there we were advised to visit the 'Aquarium Garden.' I had visions of a kind of sea rockery, with sea-anemones and such-like.

But it was not like that at all. We made our way through the throngs of Kipling's 'Fuzzy-Wuzzies' on the docks and embarked in rowing-boats, with two long benches down the middle on which we sat back to back, peering into glass-bottomed boxes which were slung over the sides of the boat.

The boatmen then rowed out to a coral reef, and through our glass boxes we could see into the shallow water to the bottom of the sea.

Never have I seen anything so exquisite. We drifted slowly over shelving reefs of coral; not pink, as I would have expected, but pale yellow, powder-blue and mauve. Some of the corals were shaped like sponges, some like delicate little trees, while in and out of magical caves and forests darted brilliantly-coloured fishes of every size and shape, striped unbelievably in scarlet and jade, yellow, purple and blue.

To gaze down into these clear translucent depths was to be transported into another world, a fairy kingdom where it wouldn't seem in the least surprising if Hans Andersen's little Mermaid should suddenly appear, weaving her way up to the surface.

I've often wondered why this 'Aquarium Garden,' as it is so misleadingly called, is not world famous. Perhaps it is because so few of the big liners call at Port Sudan? Perhaps there are other 'Aquarium Gardens' in more romantic surroundings? It may be so, but as I have not seen any other, I've always been so glad we didn't miss this one.

Our last port of call was Colombo, where the atmosphere was like the tropical hothouse in Kew Gardens. We drove out to Kandy and visited the Temple there and saw the sacred elephants. And in the evening a party of us dined and danced at the Galle Face Hotel till the men's collars wilted in the heat and the girls' dresses were wringing wet.

We seemed to get more energetic as the weather grew hotter, for after leaving Colombo someone discovered an eightsome reel on the panatrope on board. And night after night after dinner during that last fortnight at sea, we hopped and skipped through the intricacies of the Scottish reels till we were exhausted.

Then came the Crossing the Line ceremony, and every passenger who had not previously been on a voyage over the Equator had to be initiated. All the noviciates were tried and sentenced to be ducked in the ship's swimming bath on deck, amid roars of laughter from the onlookers. Even my exalted rank as Queen Neptune didn't exempt me; but as bathing costumes were the foundation of our attire we weren't unduly upset, and proudly received our certificates signed and sealed by King Neptune himself.

There was a small baby on board who'd been christened during the voyage by the captain. This baby had its little feet dipped in the swimming pool and was given a certificate with the rest of the passengers who were Crossing the Line for the first time.

There was a curious sequel to this episode. About six months later I met the mother in Collins Street, Melbourne. She told me that her baby had died soon after arriving in Australia. She was very distressed because she hadn't a photo-graph. 'Oh, but I have!' I said, joyfully, 'a very good snap-shot taken while I was holding the baby in my arms during the Crossing the Line ceremony.' I arranged to leave the photo for her in an envelope at the reception desk in my hotel, so that she would be sure of getting it even if I happened to be out when she called.

I was so thrilled to think I had this photograph and pictured the joy of the mother when she saw it. But the strange thing was—she never called for it, and there it stayed in the office until we left Melbourne. It always seemed such an unsatisfactory ending. What happened I can't imagine, and as I hadn't the woman's address I couldn't do anything about it.

Among the passengers to Sydney was a Mrs Patterson going out to join her husband who was soon to take up the post of principal of the Fairbridge Farm School. I also had an interest in the School which came about in this way.

Every winter when we were not having a London season we used to play in Liverpool for several weeks. During one of our visits there I was asked to sing at a tea-party in aid of the Fairbridge Farm School in Perth, Australia. One sang so often for charities; I knew nothing about this one, and was not particularly interested. I sang merely to please the friend who'd asked me to do so.

On two subsequent visits I sang again, and by now, having heard more about the scheme, I was really interested and wished there had been a bigger audience, as these more or less social affairs did not produce much money for Fairbridge.

But this third concert had a wonderful sequel. A certain Mr D'Arcy Hutton, whom I'd never met and who, as far as I know, was not even in the audience, having heard of my small efforts, said, 'Well, if Miss Lawson can give her time, I will give my money to pay the expenses of any protege she cares to choose to go to Fairbridge.'

I was thrilled and looked forward to giving some child a happy send-off before it left for far distant Australia. But unfortunately we left Liverpool before the committee had time to find a suitable child. So I never saw nine-year-old David Lund, who was to be my young 'godson.' However, here was I, a year or two later, just about to arrive in Australia myself and meet David in Fairbridge.

Of course I told Mrs Patterson all about it and about my little protege, and we arranged that when the ship docked at Perth we would hire a car and go out and spend the day at the School, which was in Pinjarra, about sixty miles inland.

Kingsley Fairbridge spent his early childhood in Rhodesia on the spacious veldt of South Africa. There, while still a young boy, he had a vision of peopling the vast waste spaces with children from the overcrowded slums in England.

When we had toured Canada, we had met or heard of so many misfits and failures who had emigrated from England after they were set in their ideas. They could not adapt themselves to new ways; they had the 'this is how we do it in England' complex. And they were homesick and generally out of their element.

Here in Fairbridge the boys and girls, not by any means all from the slums, but children whose families were for one reason or another unable to support them, had been brought up and educated in the country in which they were going to live. They made friends there in their early impressionable years. The ways of their adopted country were their own, and they became happy, healthy and useful citizens.

Mrs Patterson and I were welcomed when we arrived by the Principal and shown all round the Farm. The thing that first struck me was the boys' air of cheerful independence. There was no feeling of this place's being a charitable institution; each cottage was like a real home, and each had its own individuality. I found my little David, and kissed him. Poor little boy, perhaps he was the wrong age to be kissed. His face and cheeks flushed scarlet and he was too shy to speak. But he came round with us, and gradually his shyness wore off a little.

WALKABOUT- 1 January 1939, p.34

National Library of Australia, Canberra

WALKABOUT - 1 January 1939, p.36

National Library of Australia, Canberra

The School Magazine(NSW) - 1 February 1935, p.10

National Library of Australia, Canberra

The time passed all too quickly, and before we knew where we were we had to return to the ship with our mind full of our first crowded impressions of Fairbridge and all we'd seen there.

That evening, as we talked in the saloon of the day's experiences, a slight, elderly woman came across to where we sat and introduced herself. She was Mrs Kingsley Fairbridge, and overhearing our conversation, she thought we would be interested to hear more about the school. She told us how she had gone out to Australia as a bride with her twenty-four-year-old husband. With the money subscribed for the scheme, they'd bought 160 acres of land, and on this proceeded to build themselves a small four-roomed house. There they made preparations to receive the first batch of twelve boys who came out from England. Kingsley Fairbridge had died in 1924, before he was forty, when there were just over 200 boys under his care. Now the Farm was run by a Committee and was quite a large colony covering thousands of acres; it had, in fact, become one of Australia's 'show-places,' and was visited by the Prince of Wales and also by the Duke and Duchess of York.

We listened enthralled as Mrs Fairbridge talked to us of their early struggles. She seemed to feel some of the family atmosphere had gone, now that it had expanded to the present large-scale organization, but she must have been very proud of the immense development of the enterprise that had grown from such small beginnings.

Mrs Patterson was shortly to return to Fairbridge with her husband and to make it her home, and I was invited to stay with them when the Gilbert and Sullivan company came back to play in Perth.

Adelaide. Incidents on stage. Melbourne

MEANWHILE our long sea voyage was coming to an end and soon we should have to say good-bye to our friends on board and start touring again. But touring with a difference. Neville Cardus who came out to Australia in 1935 with the Test cricketers said that when he first arrived in Perth he thought, 'Ah, Australia! now I'm in touch with my friend "so-and-so" in Sydney.' Then someone pointed out to him that Perth was about as far from Sydney as London from Moscow. And we were about to start on a tour which was to cover thousands of miles and to take us over the sea to New Zealand.

We arrived on a morning of warm sunshine and had to face a barrage of questions from press representatives all wanting to know our first impressions of Australia, so superficial after our one day in Perth!—and asking all sorts of personal questions. Among the crowd who greeted us were Mrs Clive Carey's mother, Mrs Johnston, and her brother Hal. As soon as I'd settled into my hotel they whisked me off to a picnic in the hills. This was an Australian-style picnic with none of your ham sandwiches and a bit of lettuce and an apple, but lamb chops roasted over the hot cinders of a bonfire, and tea boiled in a billy-can and stirred with a gum twig. And never have I tasted anything so delicious.

The next evening, the Johnstons, whom I'd never met before but who in no time made me feel as if I'd known them all my life, took me off in their car to the top of Mount Lofty, the mountain which dominates the lovely city of Adelaide. Night was falling as we drove through the wide, tree-bordered streets of the city, which give the impression of a garden planted with houses, and by the time we arrived at our destination it was quite dark. There from the summit of the mountain we saw the city below, spread out in a dazzling magic carpet of twinkling lights. It was one of the loveliest sights I've ever seen. The air was so pristine clear you could distinguish even the moving lights of cars on the streets. I thought how wonderful London would look if the air were as clear as in Adelaide, and Hampstead Heath were as high as Mount Lofty.

One day when we were in Adelaide the Johnstons took me to tea with Sir Douglas and Lady Mawson. Sir Douglas, who is now Professor of Geology at Adelaide University, led the first Australian Antarctic Expedition in 1907, going afterwards with Shackleton in 1911, and leading a third expedition in 1929.

I must say I was very thrilled to meet one of these fabulous Polar explorers in person, my imagination having been fired by the exploits of Scott and Shackleton.

Sir Douglas showed me a number of photographs of his expedition, and I exclaimed as I saw one of a puppy, 'It looks so soft and fluffy you can't imagine it ever growing up into one of those tough "huskies." ' 'It didn't,' said Sir Douglas, 'I ate it.'

Hal Johnston afterwards told me of the episode that led up to this unusual meal.

A hut had been built on the shores of Commonwealth Bay. Sledge parties started from the main base, in November, 1912, diverging to explore inland towards the Magnetic Pole, and eastward and westward near the coast. The sledge parties made their way for 300 miles or more from their base. All got back without disaster except for the leader, whose two companions, B.B.S. Ninnis and X. Martz, fell down a crevasse, together with the sledge carrying the greater part of their food stores; and Sir Douglas was left alone a hundred miles from Commonwealth Bay. He reached the hut on February 10, 1913, by what was after-wards described as 'an effort of almost superhuman endurance.' He was at the end of his tether when, walking blindly in the dark, his foot knocked against a box of provisions; and these saved him from starvation till he reached the hut, which he had realized could not be very far away.

But when he arrived at the base he saw the ship Aurora in which he was to have returned to Australia, sailing away in the distance. It had just gone off to relieve Wild, leaving a volunteer rescue party, with whom Sir Douglas awaited the return of the ship, which would not be till the following year.

We met the rest of the company a day or two later and spent a week rehearsing before opening at the Theatre Royal, Adelaide, on May 18, 1935, with The Gondoliers.

The company had a woman producer, Minnie Everett, who was a real martinet. All was much the same as in England, except that some of our entrances were reversed, so that as you looked automatically for somebody on the left, he appeared on your right. It seemed as if Minnie, on a visit to the Savoy, had taken notes from the audience, which would of course reverse the entrances and exits.

Minnie insisted that this was in the original tradition, and we all had to conform. 

Minnie Everett with stage manager, Dick Shortland

However, that was a small thing and we soon got used to it and were a very happy company.

The Gilbert and Sullivan operas are as well known in Australia as they are in England. J. C. Williamson secured the rights from Mr D'Oyly Carte, and produced the first authorized version of H.M.S. Pinafore at the Theatre Royal, Sydney, in 1879, a year after it was first produced at the Savoy Theatre in London. And as each new opera appeared it was played within a year or so in Australia, with the exception of Ruddigore, which was not produced there until 1927, forty years after its first performance at the Savoy.

And not only are Australians familiar with the operas, but they are equally familiar with the Gilbertian traditions. For Mrs D'Oyly Carte went out at one time to see the performances, and Alfred Cellier went out in 1886 as conductor. And up to the present day principal artistes from the London company have played in the various Australian revivals.

When The Yeomen of the Guard was first produced in 1889, the whole of the original wardrobe came from London, and the Australian producers have not so far adopted the new-style dresses with which we are familiar in this country. So having learnt new business in The Mikado to take the place of the fans discarded in Charles Ricketts' re-dressed version, we now had to re-learn our fan-movements. Apart from that everything was much the same.

Winifred Lawson as 'Yum-Yum' (with fan).

But not quite the same. It was a new experience to meet these Australian people with their enthusiastic, fresh outlook, and their intense interest in everything at 'home.' And 'home' to them means England, whether they've ever been there or not.

They are essentially a friendly people without our characteristic English reserve. People talk to you on trams and buses, particularly if they know you come from England, and they don't seem to have the same inhibitions that we have. For instance, I was very amused one evening when I was dining in my hotel—dinner in Australia was always at 6 or 6.30 p.m., so one was able to have a light meal before going off to the theatre; and on this particular evening I was wearing a black dinner frock which I suppose I hadn't worn before. The head-waiter, always charming, punctilious and efficient, came over to my table and said, 'Oh, Miss Lawson.' I looked up expecting him to say I was wanted on the telephone or some such message, and he went on, 'You ought always to wear black, it suits you so well.' I suppose my surprise showed in my face, for he went on with his usual respectful air, 'I hope you don't mind my saying so.' I said, 'Of course not, I think it very nice of you'; and I did think so, it was somehow simple and natural. He thought I looked especially nice and he said so. That's what I mean about the friendliness of the Australians.

One of the first things that struck me was the self-confident bearing of the average man in the street. It was a kind of, 'Well, if I'm out of a job I shan't starve, there'll be something else round the corner' sort of a look.

Maybe it's the sunshine that makes the difference. I don't know. I was there in the good old days of 1935 when people hadn't quite so many things to worry over. But that wouldn't necessarily account for their cheerfulness. Be that as it may, Australia gave the impression of being a happy country and we felt very much at home there.

Apart from the six who had come out from England, the company were all Australians. Gregory Stroud and Evelyn Gardiner and Ivan Menzies had been out there on a previous revival and were thrilled to be back and thoroughly enjoyed showing off the beauty spots of what is now their adopted country, to those of us who had not been there before.

Eve, particularly, in that eminently satisfactory position of an old hand, delighted in telling me what to do and what not to do.

'This is not like England,' she would say. 'Here everybody talks to everybody else on trams and buses and in the trains. Whatever you do, you must be friendly and not be stiff and upstage and English.'

Well, one afternoon I decided to take the tram to the coast, and there I had a lovely walk along the sea and finally sat down on a seat on the promenade. By and by a tall, lanky Australian with fair hair and blue eyes came up with a, 'Do you mind if I sit here?' I smiled and moved along to make room. 'Isn't it a lovely day,' said he. 'Yes, glorious,' I said brightly, remembering Eve's admonitions and determined to be matey. 'Have you been out here long?' he asked, edging up closer. His tone became increasingly familiar and it gradually dawned on me that perhaps there wasn't all that difference between England and Australia and that I was being merely 'picked-up' in the ordinary common-or-garden way. When he asked me, 'What about a spot of dinner this evening?' I decided the time had come to make tracks for home. How they laughed when I got back to our hotel and told them of my adventure!

In all the big cities we were invited to all sorts of functions, particularly Women's Clubs and Business Girls' luncheons, etc., and Evelyn Gardiner and I were always expected to address the assembled company. It was something of an ordeal, for I was genuinely 'unaccustomed to public speaking.' In England as in Canada, it was always the male members of the company who made the speeches. I didn't find it so difficult to begin, but it was the finish that baffled me. Then I heard a story that came in very useful to end up with, providing I didn't tell it twice in the same town. I used to point out how lucky they were to have such an abundance of luscious fruits which they could buy for next to nothing: pineapples for 6d., passion fruit and peaches at 3d. a pound, for instance. Then I'd recount the story of an Australian walking down Piccadilly who saw peaches in a fruiterer's shop opposite the Ritz Hotel marked 7s. 6d. That was a pretty stiff price, but he felt he must have some, so he went in and ordered a dozen, and asked the girl who served him to send them along to his hotel.

'Did you say a dozen, sir,' said the girl.

'Yes, I know they're very expensive, 7s. 6d. a dozen.'

'No,' said the girl, 'they're 7s. 6d. each.'

This was a bit of a blow, so the Australian said he'd have one only. And the girl went away and wrapped up the peach in cottonwool and tissue paper and put it in a little cardboard box; the man gave her a ten shilling note and said, 'You'd better keep the change; I've just trodden on a grape.'

After which I was able to resume my seat, and listen to somebody else doing the talking.

We just revelled in the tropical varieties of fruit out there which were so new to us—paw-paw, mangoes, custard apples and passion fruit. I was telling a little girl one day that we hardly ever saw passion fruit in England. 'How ever do you make fruit salad?' said she, unable to imagine that dish without it.

In Melbourne our conductor was William Quintrell, and rehearsals started all over again.

One hardly needs to mention the performances. Playing every night as we did, everything usually ran quite smoothly, and the audience reacted to Gilbert and Sullivan in much the same way as in England and in Canada. But occasionally something would happen to upset the even tenor of the performance. Such a mishap occurred one night in The Gondoliers in Melbourne. In the first act the Ducal party arrive by boat upstage, and disembark on to a small landing-stage, and walk down a few steps to the footlights. On this particular evening—not the first night, fortunately—the Duke (Ivan Menzies) stepped out of the boat followed by Casilda (me), but just as the Duchess (Eve) was about to step on to the landing-stage, she caught her heel in the back of her crinoline and subsided gently into the bottom of the boat. It wasn't one of those stage contretemps that could just be glossed over, with the Duchess springing lightly up again, and the audience hardly aware that anything had happened. There she lay helpless on her back, and it took a good strong heave from the Duke and Casilda to get her on to her feet again. By this time we were all—including Luiz, 'his Grace's private drum'—so convulsed with laughter that we couldn't sing a note of our opening quartette. Not that it mattered much, as the audience were roaring with laughter too. The worst of it was I went on laughing long after all the others had regained control of themselves. In my violent efforts to pull myself together I found my face puckering up like a baby's, and I had to put my hand up to hide my grimaces.

Ivan Menzies as 'The Duke of Plaza-Toro'

Evelyn Gardiner as 'The Duchess of Plaza-Toro'

Winifred Lawson as their daughter 'Casilda'

Things always seem to happen to contraltos. In The Mikado Katisha makes a dramatic entrance upstage, and furiously puts an end to all the frivolity of the 'Three Little Maids' and chorus, who fall back in terror. On one occasion as Katisha made her entrance, she tripped on an uneven board, and from an undignified position on hands and knees she sang, 'Your revels cease! Assist me, all of you!'

But perhaps the worst faux pas was the mistake made not by the contralto but by Phoebe the soubrette in The Yeomen of the Guard. Talking of Fairfax to the jealous Wilfred she should have said, 'Whom thou hast just shot through the head, and who lies at the bottom of the river.' But on one never-to-be-forgotten occasion she said, 'Whom thou hast just shot through the bottom, and who lies at the head of the river.'

There are many danger spots in Gilbert's dialogue. In The Yeomen of the Guard, Sergeant Meryll has a line to say on Dame Carruther's exit, 'Deuce take the old witch,' and I well remember the night when Darrell Fancourt said 'bitch' instead of 'witch.'

There's another such danger spot in The Gondoliers when Casilda has to say to the Grand Inquisitor 'But bless my heart, consider my position, I am the wife of one, that's very clear!' The company swore that one night I sang the word 'condition' instead of 'position,' which makes quite a considerable difference to the sense.

We were in Melbourne for three months, so began to feel very much at home and had time to make real friends there. The city itself is lovely. Collins Street with the sun-shine dappling the pavement through the plane trees is somehow reminiscent of Paris and the shops are fascinating. There was one shop in particular which drew me like a magnet. It was a dress and hat shop owned by a French-woman; and what a clever saleswoman she was. She would leave me to browse around by myself among the lovely things on show—occasionally dropping a 'No! No, Mees Lawson, that is not you,' as I tried on a hat. Then she would disappear, and come back with some ravishing confection, which was of course quite irresistible. And she would say, 'Well, it is rather expensive, but for you, mademoiselle, a special price.' And you would go away in the highest of spirits, having spent double what you meant to spend, but feeling you'd got a bargain.

Among the friends I made there were Mr and Mrs Arthur Streeton. He was one of the finest, if not the finest of Australian painters. Many of his pictures were exhibited in the Paris Salon and the Royal Academy. His colouring was exquisite, and out there they use the term 'Streeton blue' to describe a certain tone that no other artist seemed able ever to achieve. I spent a delightful week-end with them in their summer cottage in the Dandenong Mountains. They were both extremely cultured and well read. He talked of his early days in England when he was a friend of Augustus John and Phil May, and I was reminded nostalgically of my father's talk of his fellow artists, in my childhood. I was glad to hear that later on Arthur Streeton received the honour of a knighthood.

It was very cold when we first arrived in Melbourne. One always thinks of Australia as having a hot climate, forgetting that it is a huge continent with every sort of climate from tropical to sub-tropical and temperate. It was surprising to learn that they had winter sports on the snow-clad mountains of Victoria, at Kosciusko, though the icy winds during the Melbourne winter made it apparent that this could well be so. But before we left Melbourne spring had come and never shall I forget one glorious day when we motored through valleys ablaze with golden wattle, which we call by a more romantic name, 'Mimosa.' Even in the winter the sun always seems to be shining in Australia, but on this particular day the combination of sunshine and wattle was positively dazzling.

(To be continued...)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

First published in A Song to Sing-O!by Winifred Lawson [Michael Joseph: London, 1955], pp. 128 - 144

* * * * *

Biographical notes on Winifred Lawson's career may be found on the Who Was Who in the D'Oyly Carte Opera Company (1875 - 1982) website compiled by David Stone at Winifred Lawson

Her fellow Savoyards' respective tenures with the D'Oyly Carte are likewise documented at Evelyn Gardiner ; Ivan Menzies ; Gregory Stroud and Richard Watson ; while Godfrey Stirling's prior stage experience was as principal tenor with the Carl Rosa Opera Company in Britain.

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Endnotes

compiled by Rob Morrison

 J.C. Williamson's G&S opera tour commenced at the Theatre Royal in Adelaide with a performance of The Gondoliers on Saturday, 18 May 1935 for a two and a half week season, followed by a double-bill of Trial by Jury and The Pirates of Penzance on Saturday, 25 May for six nights, and concluded with The Yeomen of the Guard from Saturday 1 June until 6 June.   The company then journeyed by train to Melbourne to commence its extended season at His Majesty's Theatre from 8 June 1935.

 Cast lists for the 1935 Adelaide season of The Pirates of Penzance and Trial by Jury may be viewed by tapping here, while that for The Yeomen of the Guardcan be viewed here.

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"THE GONDOLIERS" OPENING TONIGHT

Veteran Producer Praises New Company

The Theatre Royal once again will re-echo with the delightful music and laughter of Gilbert and Sullivan opera tonight, when the new company, which arrived by special train from Melbourne yesterday, will make its first appearance in "The Gondoliers."

Miss Minnie Everett, believed to be the only woman producer of Gilbert and Sullivan operas in the world, was full of praise for the new company when seen between rehearsals at the theatre yesterday.

“The present generation of young artists, while just as gifted, is not as conscientious as the old school,” she said. "It is just a reflection of the times. They expect everything to come more easily, and will not take the trouble to become as perfect in their parts as the original Savoyards did."

Wonderful Record

Miss Everett, who began her association with the operas when a girl, has a wonderful record of work. She knows every opera thoroughly, and can show a newcomer every step of a dance or twist of the hand. She said that the chorus work of the present company was up to the highest standard, and there were many brilliant voices among the singers, some had not done stage work before, and she had been training them for eight weeks in Melbourne.

Ivan Menzies (who will be seen as the Duke of Plaza Toro tonight), Gregory Stroud, and Evelyn Gardiner are old favorites with Adelaide audiences. One of the newcomers, Richard Watson, who will take the part of the Grand Inquisitor tonight, is an Adelaide singer, having won the Elder overseas scholarship in 1926. He has had a successful career in London, appearing at Covent Garden in grand opera, as well as Gilbert and Sullivan roles. Winifred Lawson, who will be seen as Casilda in "The Gondoliers," has a beautiful soprano voice, and has won a great reputation in England. The appearance of Godfrey Stirling, the tenor of the new company, is also eagerly awaited.

Miss Everett produced "High Jinks" in London, and pantomime in South Africa when war broke out. "In those days it was all our own work," she said, "and producers were not sent abroad to bring back productions and copy them."

Promising Artists

Speaking of those who had never played parts before, Miss Everett mentioned Helen Langton, a Western Australian girl, who would fill some of Marie Bremner’s roles, as being particularly promising. A fine contralto had been found in Elsa Hall, from New Zealand. Frank Birmingham, who was only 25, was a potential star, Miss Everett said. After living in Adelaide for seven years he joined the Fuller grand opera chorus, and was picked out for the new Gilbert and Sullivan company. He would play the pirate king in "The Pirates of Penzance," and the sergeant in "The Yeomen of the Guard." Two Williamson scholarship winners, Misses Kelly and Ferguson, from the Melba Conservatorium and the University Conservatorium respectively, were also in the company.

Mr William Quintrell will conduct the orchestra tonight. The season will be limited to two and a half weeks.

The Advertiser (Adelaide, SA), Saturday, 18 May 1935, p.14 - https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/37288659

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Helen Langton

Eileen Kelly

The JCW G&S Opera Co.'s Melbourne season at His Majesty's Theatre commenced on Saturday, 8 June 1935 with a season of The Gondoliers(until 28 June), followed by Trial by Jury and The Pirates of Penzance (29 June to 12 July); The Yeomen of the Guard (13 to 26 July); Iolanthe (27 July to 9 August); The Mikado (10 to 30 August); H.M.S. Pinafore preceded by Cox and Box (31 August to 13 September, with the latter replaced by Trial by Jury from 7 September); and Patience (14 to 20 September).  The season concluded with brief revivals of The Gondoliers (on 21, 23 and 24 September); The Mikado (on 25, 26 and 27 September); and The Yeomen of the Guard (30 September, 1 and 2 October) - the latter having been voted for in a plebiscite by readers of The Argus newspaper.

The abbreviated version of Sullivan and F.C. Burnand's one-act Cox and Box (based on John Maddison Morton's farce Box and Cox), was revived by the D'Oyly Carte Opera Company for its 1921 season at the Princes Theatre, London and received its Australian premiere in the prior Melbourne G&S season at the Theatre Royal on 11 July 1931, as directed by Ivan Menzies.  (The original full-length version was first staged in Australia as part of "Miss Alice May's Gallery of Illustration" at the Masonic Hall, Sydney on 26 December 1872, with Edward Farley and Howard Vernon in the title roles and B. Levison as 'Bouncer'.)

The company's principal bass, Bernard Manning (who had been absent during the opening season in Adelaide), joined the JCW G&S Opera Co. during the Melbourne season to play his accustomed roles of 'The Pirate King', 'Sergeant Meryll', 'Earl Mountararat', 'The Mikado' and 'Dick Deadeye', which he had previously played in JCW's G&S Opera tours of 1926 - 28 and 1931 - 33 (which included its subsequent tour of South Africa), but relinquished his usual roles of 'Colonel Caverley' in Patience and 'Bouncer' in Cox and Box to Richard Watson.  (Manning's prior experience with the touring "New" D'Oyly Carte Opera Company in Britain is documented on the "Who Was Who" website here). .

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Productions Reviewed

• The Gondoliers (Saturday, 8 June 1935

Winifred Lawson as 'Casilda'

Ivan Menzies as 'The Duke of Plaza-Toro'

 THE GAY AND BRILLIANT “GONDOLIERS”

Gilbert And Sullivan Opera Season

AUSPICIOUS OPENING

By The Herald Music Critic

"THE GONDOLIERS" (His Majesty's). — Spirited performance of one of the most popular of the Gilbert and Sullivan operas. Brilliantly staged.

A TREMENDOUS ovation was accorded the "celebrated, cultivated, underrated" Duke of Plaza-Toro when he arrived at the Piazzetta steps on Saturday night, with the Duchess, their daughter, Casilda and their attendant Luiz. This was the climax to a number of rapturous welcomes to members of the Gilbert and Sullivan Opera Company.

The crowded audience assembled with happy expectation, and from the moment the curtain went up on a scene of Venetian glamor, it began to revel in the wit and melody of "The Gondoliers".

That it had a joyous night there was "no possible doubt whatever." Laughter and tumultuous applause burst out frequently. Double and triple encores were demanded. This frequent repetition upset the action of the opera. But a Gilbert and Sullivan audience cannot have too much of a good thing. It comes prepared to encore every familiar number.

Beautifully dressed, and charmingly staged, with lighting effects hitherto unequalled. "The Gondoliers" was given a very spirited performance. Like the last combination, this company has an excellent chorus, alert and well balanced, and its singing, though a little too exuberant at times, was good throughout. But there was not uniformity in the work of the principals. That could not be expected, because, with experienced artists who have sung with the D'Oyly Carte company, were a few clever young Australians, who were new to this class of work, and, in fact, to the professional stage.

A Funny Duke

Light and resourceful as the impecunious Duke, Ivan Menzies caused the greatest ovation of the night for his inimitable dancing in the gavotte toward the end of the second act. At each recall his nimble legs sprang up and down the Palace steps in a different manner, before they glided again into the sedate movement of the dance. The comedian put the audience in the happiest mood at his first entrance in the droll scene in which the Duke describes his conversion into a limited liability company, and gave point to the number in which he told why the nobleman led his regiment from behind — he found it less exciting. The comedian gave a lift to the performance every time he came on the stage.

The part of the domineering duchess was convincingly acted by Evelyn Gardiner, who has improved her reading of the character. She had fine poise, and never forced her gift for humorous expression. Her number, "On the Day That I Was Wedded," was encored.

Richard Watson, who made his Melbourne debut in the role of the Grand Inquisitor, has the best voice in the company. A charmingly dainty figure as the new Casilda, Winifred Lawson gave to her work a refinement of touch that revealed the true artist.

Mr Watson has a rich and flexible bass voice, and his numbers were a genuine treat. His diction was admirable, and every word he sang or said could be clearly heard. His humor, dryly deliberate, was not as subtle as some Grand Inquisitors we have heard, but he made some points capitally, particularly in the second act.

Miss Lawson brought artistry and polish to all that she did. The lightness and delicacy of her portrayal of Casilda made her every appearance delightful. Her dainty steps and graceful gestures were in keeping with a reading on the finest lines. We have heard exponents of the role with fresher voices, but not one more artistic. Miss Lawson sang with sweetness of tone in the exquisite duet, "There Was a Time," with Lennox Brewer, who, as Luiz, used a voice of pleasant quality with expressive skill.

The new Marco, Godfrey Stirling, is the possessor of a pleasing tenor voice, easily produced, and he sings with refinement and style. The much abused melodic treasure, "Take a Pair of Sparkling Eyes," was artistically phrased. This number is always encored. Mr Stirling responded to two recalls, in which he revealed a steady mezzo voice. Singing came more naturally to this stage gondolier than dancing, though he entered with animation into all his duties, and showed a sense of humor.

Clever Novices

Gregory Stroud, who received an unusually warm reception, was excellent in his old role of Guiseppe. An artist of engaging personality, the baritone sang with good, even tone, and acted with spirit and humor. There was a double encore for his exacting number, "Rising Early in the Morning," the speed of which is too much for many singers.

Two new recruits, Helen Langton and Eileen Kelly, had very exacting tasks in having to play big roles alongside experienced artists. Both are singers of promise, and in company with polished artists should improve their stage work quickly. If less emphatic they would be more effective in the "business" of the quartet, "In Contemplative Fashion," with Mr Stirling and Mr Stroud. Miss Langton's soprano tones are light and sweet, but her voice will require more training before her head notes are thoroughly dependable. They were not always controlled in the number, "Kind Sir, You Cannot Have the Heart," which has to be exquisitely phrased and sung with sincerity and refinement of style to be invested with all its tender appeal. Eileen Kelly's mezzo tones were well judged in "When a Merry Maiden Marries." She is bright and spontaneous, and will develop into a clever soubrette.

Nowadays we often hear a great deal more about a play before it has been produced than after the fateful event, but the peculiar brilliance and gaiety of "The Gondoliers" have kept that opera alive since 1889, and it seems as fresh as ever.

While variety gives to "The Gondoliers" a special charm, gaiety is its prevailing note, and Antonio strikes it in the opening scene with his song "For the Merriest Fellows Are We." Clifford Cowley became Antonio for this, and used his fine voice most spiritedly.

Will Quintrell conducted spiritedly, and was able to give finish to much of the orchestral accompaniment.

The staging was excellent, and Minnie Everett, producer and director of the chorus, deserved the audience's tribute when she appeared on the stage after the final curtain.

The Herald (Melbourne), Monday, 10 June 1935, p.22 – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/244833084

* * * * *

An item in The Herald describing the costumes in the production and listing prominent members of the audience noted that: "Seated in two of the boxes were Yehudi Menuhin, with his mother and father (Mr and Mrs Moshe Menuhin), [and] his sisters, Hephzibah and Yalta." (https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/244832909)  The 19 year-old violin virtuoso was then visiting Melbourne as part of his Australian tour for J. & N. Tait.

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Richard Watson as 'Don Alhambra del Bolero' 

photo by Sam Hood (Mitchell Library, Sydney)

Gregory Stroud as 'Giuseppe Palmieri'

State Library of New South Wales, Sydney

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

GILBERT AND SULLIVAN

"The Gondoliers"

"Of Happiness the Very Pith"

Old favourites and new friends were welcomed on Saturday night when a receptive audience and an excellent company collaborated in a successful first night of The Gondoliers. Theatregoers who lament the introduction of the sex drama and the problem play may find in the perennial popularity of the Savoy operas abundant cause for confidence and joy. In an age which rates efficiency higher than grace the Gilbert and Sullivan productions proclaim the beauty of good breeding. They maintain an unwavering standard of comeliness and decorum; these little worlds of “topsy-turvydom” represent the ideal commonwealth in which every member of the community attends to his own business while contributing his share to the well-being of his neighbour. Not that there is any thing prim or proper about these charming people who make love so delightfully, who sing so sweetly, who engage in philosophical discussion and who break off to dance. The true Gilbert and Sullivan character is too busy enunciating the creed “Thou Shalt be gracious, gay and well-mannered” to spare time for other than good-humoured fun at the expense of his neighbour's foibles. As administered by the two apostles of clean entertainment the powder is even nicer than the jam.

The entrance of Mr Ivan Menzies as the impecunious Duke of Plaza-Torro was the signal for a prolonged outburst of applause. As at his previous appearances in Melbourne the comedian proved himself the undoubted “star” of the company. By his vivacity, his punctilious attention to detail, and his command of sly innuendo, he set the tone for the entire performance while himself remaining, with scrupulous artistry, in the background. Mr Menzies’ range of comic expression proved as inexhaustible as it was discretely applied. The cunning smile with which, when overwhelmed by the verbosity of the gloriously flamboyant Duchess (Miss Evelyn Gardiner), he exchanged unutterable confidences with the audience; the momentary gleam of eye which belied the apparent meekness of his demeanour; the bored tolerance and impish glee which alternately encouraged and disconcerted his appallingly well brought-up daughter were among countless examples of imaginative comedy. Mr Menzies dancing is as perfect as ever. In the second act he floated round the stage with an air of serene enjoyment which reduced his audience to speechless laughter. After the fourth encore he danced straight across the stage and out through the wings. The audience, although disappointed, realised that the comedian had good reason for fatigue, and accepted his sudden disappearance with good-tempered resignation. Popular unselfishness was rewarded by a brief but enchanting vision of Mr Menzies capering quietly by himself in a far distant corner.

Other artists welcomed with affectionate warmth were Miss Gardiner and Mr Gregory Stroud who both exhibited much greater versatility and warmth than during the 1932 season. As the frolicsome gondolier, as the hungry monarch, and as the fleet footed dancer of the “Cachucha”, Mr Stroud displayed equal capability and high spirits. A very pleasing feature of the production was the excellent work contributed by the Australian members of the company. Mr Richard Watson has had wide experience in grand opera and with the D’Oyly Carte company. His work as the Grand Inquisitor was in every respect admirable. His singing was capital, his articulation notably good, his doleful dancing and his grasp of heroic bombast deserving of unstinted praise. Another performance of decided merit was given by the young West Australian singer Miss Helen Langton, whose work as Gianetta gave promise of future brilliance. As her companion in flirtatious enterprise, Miss Eileen Kelly showed considerable stage sense and she sang prettily.

The new tenor of the company, Mr Godfrey Stirling, did not appear to fit easily into the fantastic and fairy-like atmosphere of Savoy opera. His singing was of excellent quality, but it demonstrated the severe virtues of the concert platform rather than the spontaneous carollings of Arthur Sullivan. “Take a Pair of Sparkling Eyes” provided a notable example of serious musicianship. Another newcomer, Miss Winifred Lawson, is an experienced D’Oyly Carte actress. As that arch-prig, Casilda, she looked enchanting, sang pleasantly, and displayed highly polished stage technique. The musical “timing” of Miss Lawson's movements provide an interesting illustration of the discipline which supports the airy framework of the Gilbert and Sullivan productions. The orchestra under Mr William Quintrell did satisfactory work; the chorus was efficient if slightly over exuberant, and the dancing was admirable. Mr Lennox Brewer appeared as Luiz and Mr Vincent McMurray sang well as Antonio.

The Argus, Monday, 10 June 1935, p.7 – http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article12246921

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Vincent McMurray as 'Antonio'

photo by Sam Hood (Mitchell Library, Sydney)

THE THEATRES

BY THE CHIEL

"The Gondoliers" (His Majesty's)

IN a speech he made after the show at His Majesty's on Saturday night, Mr. Ivan Menzies delivered himself of a comment on Gilbert and Sullivan, which, for one, has my hearty support. Said Mr Menzies, an audience does not come to the theatre to criticise Gilbert and Sullivan—they have grown beyond criticism. I do not know if Mr. Menzies intended that the passports and clearance papers should include the cast as well as G. and S. Listening to that merry and accomplished comedian while he was saying his piece, I recalled the line, "and many a wicked smile he smole and many a wink he wunk," and wondered whether he was amusing himself with a little oblique leg-pulling. Well, I like him too much and enjoyed his Duke of Plaza-Toro too much to lead off with a brick on the traditional controversy. Moreover, it is hypocrisy to bid a man sin no more when the critic enjoys the sin.

Miss Minnie Everett has produced "The Gondoliers" as only she can produce it.

Her touch is on every moment of it. When one has seen "The Gondoliers" more times than one can remember since it was first produced in the Princess Theatre with Charles Riley, it is difficult to avoid comparisons. The new production has a cast as good as any in the past. The audience on Saturday night rose and clasped Mr. Menzies to its vast throbbing heart the moment he appeared. They clearly had not forgotten him. Miss Evelyn Gardiner, too, who is created for the parts of the Duchess and the fairy queen in "Iolanthe," was greeted as an old friend, and her voice has all the bell-like clarity that we remember aforetime. Miss Winifred Lawson, the newcomer, as Casilda, is a distinct acquisition to the company. Hers is not a large voice, but it is very sweet. Mr. Godfrey Stirling and Mr. Richard Watson, both new here as far as the Savoy operas are concerned, fully justified their selection to the company.

The chorus was what we expect a Gilbert and Sullivan chorus to be.

Apart from one or two lapses of memory, the show ran with the smoothness of ball bearings. The only real trouble was the insatiable appetite of the audience for encores. "Take a Pair of Sparkling Eyes," the "Cachucha," "In Contemplative Fashion," the Gavotte—in fact, nearly every item in the second act and half of the first act was encored two, three, and four times. It is very unfair to the artists, despite the implied compliment, and, besides, no song however popular or pleasing can stand the strain of a triple and much less a quadruple repetition. The new company gave us a fine rendering of "The Gondoliers," which might easily have been damaged.

The Australasian (Melbourne), Saturday, 15 June 1935, p.17 – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/141437532

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"The Gondoliers"

Many were turned away from His Majesty's Theatre when "The Gondoliers" was presented on Saturday evening. J.C. Williamson Ltd announces that there will be a children's matinee of "The Gondoliers" on Saturday afternoon. Ivan Menzies will present a merry interlude and will act as host to the children. There will also be two competitions—one for a dance by boys, and the other for the best rendering by girls of a song from any of the Gilbert and Sullivan operas. Prizes will be volumes of Savoy Stories autographed by Ivan Menzies. Entries should be addressed to Mr. Ivan Menzies, at His Majesty's Theatre.

The Argus, Monday 17 June 1935, p. 7 – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/12249582

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Further reviews may be read at:

• The Sun News-Pictorial review – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/277244072
• The Age review – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/204359096
• The Leader review – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/255838059

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Discography:  

 "I stole the prince" - Richard Watson & Ducal party (rec. 1950)

"There lived a king"- Richard Watson with Leonard Osborn & Alan Styler (rec. 1950)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

• The Pirates of Penzance & Trial by Jury (Saturday, 29 June 1935)

Tap here to view the cast list for the Melbourne season.

Rollicking Fun In “The Pirates"

Spirited Performance

By The Herald Music Critic

“THE PIRATES OF PENZANCE” (His Majesty’s): Anybody who likes good fun and pure melody will enjoy the spirited performance of this 50-year-old opera.

ALL the rollicking humor, the parody and pointed jest of "The Pirates of Penzance" and "Trial by Jury" were capitally brought out by the Gilbert and Sullivan Company at His Majesty's on Saturday night when Bernard Manning made his first appearance with the combination in his old role of the Pirate King and several of the principals gave much better performances than they were able to give in the opening production of "The Gondoliers".

Godfrey Stirling's Frederic was in every respect an improvement on his Marco. The tenor fitted naturally into the role of the mild-mannered and conscientious pirate apprentice, gave point to the humor, and sang with refinement of style.

Richard Watson, the basso, enhanced the fine impression he made on the opening night. This artist combines a fine voice with a decided sense of comedy. He was the cause of much fun in "Trial by Jury" as the ponderously comic Learned Judge, who, in his youth, fell in love with "the rich attorney's ugly elderly daughter," and in the bigger work was a capital Sergeant of Police bringing out the humor by his solemnity and little touches of the drollest kind.

The pirates in the opera do not think much of their profession, but contrasted with respectability find it comparatively honest. They are, in fact, so tender-hearted that they will not attack a weaker party than themselves, nor an orphan. Perhaps the play on the word orphan occurs too often, but there are few instances where Gilbert's wit seems to have lost any of its subtlety, while the music of Sullivan, adept in the art of the musical joke, is as fresh in its humor as in its melody. Even the point of the policeman's song and chorus by which the opera is best known is just as effective as ever.

Richard Watson assumed a very mournful tone in telling that the policeman's lot was not a happy one. The number met with a double encore and he repeated portions of it in different accents. When the police were going to their fate in a highly nervous state, he was just as funny.

Ivan Menzies was "the very pattern of a modern major-general." This patter song was well delivered, and the extraordinary pace adopted for the final encore caused no embarrassment to the pliable orchestra, which provided a considerate accompaniment in the ballad "Softly Sighing." Mr Menzies gave character to the role, and from the time when the Major-General was in despair at the thought of losing his numerous daughters to when he offered them as brides to the pirates, the comedian helped the fun of the piece materially.

Dazzling Vocalisation

"Poor Wandering One" provides for Mabel the most dazzling vocalisation in all the Gilbert and Sullivan series. Helen Langton sang this number brilliantly, the rapid staccato passages being delivered with the utmost ease, but she was unwise to force the tone in the climax. This tendency will have to be curbed. It had a most discouraging result at the second repetition. Miss Langton can get coloratura effects naturally and her voice carries well. Hardness comes into the head tones when she gives them more volume than nature intended.

Much better in this role than as Gianetta in "The Gondoliers," this young soprano sang with artistic judgment and sweetness of tone in the duet with Frederic, "Oh, Leave Me Not to Pine," where Sullivan's taste and skill in the assumption of the pure harmonies of a past day are most apparent. Mr Stirling sang his share of the duet with charm and refinement. His recitative and the air "Oh! Is There Not One Maiden Breast?" in the first act were very well done, and the tenor entered with spontaneity into the laughing trio with the Pirate King, and Ruth, the Pirate Maid-of-All-Work.

Bernard Manning acted with characteristic virility. His big number telling that it is a glorious thing to be a pirate king, met with the customary double encore, and his long recitative was delivered in fine style. As Ruth, Evelyn Gardiner acted well, and in her first song made it clear to the audience why she bound Frederic apprentice to a pirate instead of a pilot. Her diction was excellent.

Clifford Cowley sang well as the Pirate King's lieutenant, and certainly looked a blood-thirsty fellow. The Pirates, like the constables, did capital work, and the entry with "catlike tread" was vigorous and droll.

Though occasionally inclined to shout, the chorus did much splendid work. The unaccompanied singing toward the close of the first act was notable.

Spirited "Trial"

"Trial by Jury" put everybody in the best of humor at the outset.

In this little opera Gilbert discovered his power of attacking even the most cherished institutions of the British people without giving offence. It was played with the utmost spirit.

Eileen Kelly showed a sense of fun, and was clever, but not sufficiently kittenish as the captivating Plaintiff. Gregory Stroud, an outstanding figure as her counsel, bore himself with dignity, and with good tone and taste.

Will Quintrell conducted throughout the night with virility and sympathy.

He should be given a larger orchestra.

The Herald (Melbourne), Monday, 1 July 1935, p.18 – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/244933195

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ivan Menzies as 'Major-General Stanley' 

Bernard Manning as 'The Pirate King'

photo by Sam Hood (Mitchell Library, Sydney)

Gregory Stroud as 'Counsel for the Plaintiff'

photo by Sam Hood (Mitchell Library, Sydney)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Further reviews may be read at:

• The Sun News-Pictorial review – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/276783474
• The Argus review – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/11743729
• The Australasian review – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/141759301
• Table Talk review – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/149554218

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Discography:

 "For these kind words" - The Judge's song - Richard Watson & chorus (rec. 1949)

 "When the foeman bears his steel" - Richard Watson, Muriel Harding, Martyn Green & chorus (rec. 1949)

 "Though in body and in mind" - Richard Watson & chorus (rec. 1949)

"When a felon's not engaged in his employment"- Richard Watson & chorus (rec. 1949)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Richard Watson as the 'Sergeant of Police'

photo by Sam Hood (Mitchell Library, Sydney)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

• The Yeomen of the Guard (Saturday, 13 July 1935)

Tap here to view the cast list for the Melbourne season.

STIRRING ROMANTIC OPERA

"The Yeomen of the Guard" Well Produced

By The Herald Music Critic

"THE YEOMEN OF THE GUARD" (His Majesty's) — The best of the Gilbert and Sullivan operas, well produced, with Ivan Menzies in his best role.

AS the merryman with a broken heart, "sighing for the love of a ladye," Ivan Menzies was the outstanding performer in the production of "The Yeomen of the Guard" on Saturday night.

This opera will outlive all the other works of Gilbert and Sullivan, which are carried along with gay and frothy nonsense, with pointed wit and happy-hearted melody. It reaches the highest artistic standard of a famous collaboration, and its story touches deep chords of human sympathy. Though the performance was neither as well balanced nor as spontaneous, as that of "The Pirates of Penzance," the essential atmosphere of the piece was brought out with understanding and the concerted numbers were a very gratifying feature.

"The Yeomen of the Guard" gives us something that not one of the others possesses. Pathos and humor are admirably blended in an effective plot. Gilbert is much more human than he is elsewhere, and his softer mood has brought out the very best in Sullivan. The work approaches more nearly the genuine romantic opera, particularly in the power and poignancy of the finale to each of the two acts. And among the characters there is one, that of Jack Point, which in subtlety of drawing occupies a place apart from Gilbert's other creations.

Tragedy in the life of a jester has provided many an effective plot, and here it has received unique treatment. Jack Point is paid to be funny, but he is really "the saddest and sorriest dog in England." Ivan Menzies again proved himself not only a capital comedian, but an actor able to reflect deep feeling.

The underlying pathos of the character of Jack Point was brought out as certainly as the wit. The gradual change from a merry heart to a broken one was most subtly suggested. Mr Menzies’ facial expression was strikingly effective, and the last scenes, which many Jack Points are inclined to over-act, were made deeply moving by his dignified bearing.

Nimbleness and Grace

There was nimbleness and grace in Mr Menzies's actions during the rendering by the merryman and the maid of "I Have a Song to Sing, O." Pathos and humor were admirably blended in the number "Oh! A Private Buffoon," and the greatest demonstration of the night followed the succeeding duet with Wilfrid Shadbolt, Head Gaoler, and Assistant Tormentor, who imagines that his true metier is that of a wit. Richly humorous, though at times over strenuous, was Richard Watson's impersonation of the grim Wilfred. No character could look more miserable in a comic way than this unprepossessing lover of Phoebe, who imagines he has been "more hotly wooed than most men" and is "the merriest dog that barks."

Winifred Lawson moved gracefully and was a vivacious though a surprisingly refined strolling singer. The soprano gave an effective rendering of "’Tis Done I am a Bride." Her soft tones were always engaging and her share of the concerted numbers was artistic. "When a Wooer Goes a Wooing," sung in association with Eileen Kelly, Godfrey Stirling and Ivan Menzies, flowed easily.

Evelyn Gardiner was well in character as Dame Carruthers, but vocally she has been heard to better advantage this season.

The Colonel Fairfax of Godfrey Stirling. was a quiet yet convincing figure. He sang with grace the plaintive "Is Life a Boon?" but more pleasing were his subdued tones in "From His Fetters Grim," very well sung.

Definite Character

Gregory Stroud always makes a definite character of every role he plays. The comparatively small part of Lord Lieutenant of the Tower was given much significance by his dignified acting. This baritone's artistic reserve and engaging tones made his share of the trio, "How Say You, Maiden?" impressive.

Phoebe's beautiful opening number, "When Maiden Loves," was sung with a nice sense of phrasing and good tone by Eileen Kelly, but she lacked sufficient depth of feeling. This clever girl was a spirited Phoebe, and she showed to advantage in the piquant, "Were I Thy Bride."

Bernard Manning played his old role of Sergeant Meryll in characteristic style.

Helen Langton's sweet soprano tones were heard with Mr Stirling, Mr Manning and Evelyn Gardiner in the madrigal "Strange Adventure," which was charmingly sung.

Fine Chorus

The choral work was admirable. The first entry of the Beefeaters in their picturesque scarlet, was made to a chorus ringing with pride and bravery, but nothing was more impressive than the solemn music in the gathering for the colonel's execution.

The orchestra, under Will Quintrell, played smoothly and with spirit. This picturesque opera was capitally staged, and the audience cordially applauded Minnie Everett, the producer and director of the chorus, when she appeared after the final curtain.

The Herald (Melbourne), Monday 15 July 1935, p.14 – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/244936983

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ivan Menzies as 'Jack Point'

Winifred Lawson as 'Elsie Maynard'

YEOMEN OF THE GUARD.

A Brilliant Production.

For the third presentation of the Gilbert and Sullivan opera season the choice of J. C. Williamson Ltd. was The Yeomen of the Guard. This work, which was brilliantly presented on Saturday, reveals a high standard of art—the highest indeed, attained by the famous collaborators, and one which will assure the opera greater "permanence" than that likely to be achieved by any of its fellows. As for the music, there is the testimony of Sullivan himself that it is the best of his operas. Gilbert's share is a sincere dramatic story, lyrics which can be classed as poetry as distinct from mere rhyming, and quaintness and wit such as characterise his other works. It is the one opera of the series in which pathos finds a place; one in which grief and pity tread closely upon the heels of gaiety.

The atmosphere of the opera—with its Tower of London and the picturesquely arrayed yeomen and colorfully attired villagers—is essentially English, but the story, with its charm of sincerity, its contrasts of merriment and sadness, combined as they are with such entrancing music, has a human appeal which transcends national boundaries.

Gilbert and Sullivan operatic comedians have invariably expressed a preference for the role of Jack Point. This is not surprising, as the character, with its subtle blending of grave and gay, creates more opportunities for the display of histrionic ability than any other comedian role in the series. These opportunities were fully embraced on Saturday by Ivan Menzies, who in a superb performance artistically revealed the changing moods of the whimsical and ill-fated jester. Mr. Menzies received excellent co-operation from Richard Watson. His lugubriousness and elephantine movements as Wilfred Shadbolt, the Gaoler, were in marked contrast with the physical and mental nimbleness of Jack Point, and were responsible for a great deal of amusement. The duet “Tell a Tale of Cock and Bull” was greeted so enthusiastically that the progress of the opera was checked while the artists acknowledged the storms of applause still in evidence even after a double encore. Godfrey Stirling— a strikingly handsome Colonel Falrfax—again displayed his pleasant tenor voice to advantage, the ballads “Is Life a Boon?” and “Free From His Fetters Grim” being delightfully rendered. Gregory Stroud, as hitherto, made distinctive the comparatively small role of Sir Richard Cholmondeley, Lieutenant of the Tower. Bernard Manning, as Sergeant Meryii, repeated his good character sketch of the rugged soldier who falls a victim to the unwelcome wooing of Dame Carruthers (played acceptably by Evelyn Gardiner), and "after tarrying, yields to harrying, and goes a marrying."

Winifred Lawson was a graceful Elsie Maynard. Her voice is rather small in volume, but her singing was most artistic, and in other respects her presentation was a flawless one. If not altogether adequate as Phoebe, Eileen Kelly nevertheless sang pleasantly the two melodious numbers “When Maiden Loves” and “Were I Thy Bride”. Helen Langton (Kate) and Lennox Brewer (Leonard Meryll) made brief appearances.

The excellent chorus work was again an outstanding feature, and the orchestra under the watchful guidance of Will Quintrell, was also an important factor in the pronounced success of the performance. Minnie Everett again proved an efficient producer.

The Age (Melbourne), Monday 15 July 1935, p.10 – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/203992984

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Evelyn Gardiner as 'Dame Carruthers' & Bernard Manning as 'Sergeant Meryll' 

photo by Sam Hood (Mitchell Library, Sydney)

Richard Watson as 'Wilfred Shadbolt'

photo by Sam Hood (Mitchell Library, Sydney)

His Majesty's

GILBERT AND SULLIVAN

"The Yeomen" Again

Picturesque Production

Both Gilbert and Sullivan thought that “The Yeomen of the Guard” was their finest work together. The general public did not agree with them and the general public was right. This sweeping assertion by a recent biographer of Gilbert and Sullivan will scarcely convince music lovers in Melbourne who, in “The Argus” plebiscite, wholeheartedly endorsed the opinion of the composer and the dramatist. Few students of Savoy opera would, however, allow that in creative exuberance “The Yeomen” equals its great rival “The Mikado.” Its relationship with the comic masterpiece recalls that between “David Copperfield” and “The Pickwick Papers.” The one is a work of art and the other a work of genius; the one depends for its immortality upon disciplined selection; the other upon inextinguishable vitality. Both Gilbert and Sullivan were artists by temperament; lovers of the economical and the concise; enemies of the platitudinous and the verbose. In “The Yeomen” they heroically discarded humour and concentrated upon a compact musical and dramatic statement. Where the other Savoy operas are allusive, witty, imaginative “The Yeomen” is logical, purposeful, and romantic. It is the least characteristic, the least original and the best constructed of the series. The conscious limitations of its style have provided contemporary composers with a useful and workable “art form.” The spirit of the satirical operas is unrecapturable and “The Mikado” is without legitimate successors. Even A. P. Herbert’s essay in Gilbertian humour—“Tantivy Towers”—is a relation many times removed. Gustav Holst, Vaughan Williams, and Arthur Benjamin have found, however, in “The Yeomen” a valuable basis for the constructive development of English romantic opera.

There was much that was enjoyable in the performance on Saturday night, although neither musical nor dramatically did the action move with the easy alacrity of some previous productions. Continuity and a strong sense of climax were lacking: the emotional tempo of the first act was subject to fluctuations, and the principals appeared to waver between the rival claims of realism and artificiality. At her first appearance as Elsie Maynard, Miss Winifred Lawson spoke and behaved as a rustic damsel would, but as the opera developed she discarded this disguise with obvious relief and resumed the congenial role of a polished D'Oyly Carte actress. Mr Godfrey Stirling made of Colonel Fairfax an accomplished concert singer; Miss Eileen Kelly employed her natural vivacity as Phoebe, and attempted no Gilbertian subtleties; Wilfred Shadbolt, as portrayed by Mr Richard Watson, was a wildly farcical figure; and the Jack Point of Mr Ivan Menzies was a jester so fastidious and disillusioned in intellectual outlook as could never have died for love of a strolling player. The most convincing character-studies were provided by Mr Gregory Stroud (the Lieutenant of the Tower), Miss Evelyn Gardiner (Dame Carruthers), and Mr Bernard Manning (Sergeant Meryll). Mr Stroud’s performance was admirable; this guardian of the fortress was a credible and distinguished personality. Vocally Miss Gardiner was handicapped by the effects of her recent indisposition, but her work was always well in the picture, dignified, vital, and clearly defined. Mr Manning acted with assurance and discretion, controlled his decorative Beefeaters with an appropriate air of paternal authority, and made much of the comic interludes with Dame Carruthers.

Musically the performance was at its best in the second act. Miss Lawson's pretty voice was better suited by the ensembles with Phoebe and Fairfax than by the more exacting solo numbers in the opening scene, and Mr Stirling achieved admirably resonant tone in “Free From His Fetters Grim.” The spoken dialogue was also delivered with improved pace and virility. In the earlier “Is Life a Boon?” Mr Stirling alternated between buoyancy and lethargy of rhythm in a manner which detracted from the critical philosophy of Gilbert’s lyric. Mr. Menzies was received with great enthusiasm, and his attempts to sharpen the wits of the humorously deficient lieutenant were engagingly funny. Miss Kelly delivered her lines with excellent clarity and acted with promising freedom. Miss Helen Langton did all that was possible with the small part of Kate, and the chorus, stage settings, and costumes were capital. The orchestra directed by Mr William Quintrell dealt capably with Sullivan's charming score.

Any suggestion of vulgarity is alien to the expressed intention of the creators of the Savoy operas, and some dubious by-play in the first act—which provoked much adverse comment—should be omitted at future performances.

The Yeomen of the Guard will be presented for 11 more nights with matinees on Wednesday and Saturdays. On July 27 Iolanthe will be presented.

The Argus (Melbourne), Monday, 15 July 1935, p.7 – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/11748011

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ivan Menzies as 'Jack Point'

photo by Sam Hood (Mitchell Library, Sydney)

Gregory Stroud as 'Sir Richard Cholmondeley'

photo by Sam Hood (Mitchell Library, Sydney)

Further reviews may be read at:

• The Sun News-Pictorial review – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/276787605
• The Australasian review – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/141759979
• Table Talk review – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/149554383

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Discography:

 "I have a song to sing, o" - Winifred Lawson, George Baker & chorus (rec. 1928)

 "Tis done, I am a bride"- Winifred Lawson (rec. 1928)

"Hereupon we're both agreed" - Richard Watson & Martyn Green (rec. 1950)

"Who fired that shot? - Like a ghost his vigil keeping"- Richard Watson, Martyn Green & chorus (rec. 1950)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ivan Menzies as 'Jack Point' & Richard Watson as 'Wilfred Shadbolt'

photo by Sam Hood (Mitchell Library, Sydney)

• Iolanthe (Saturday, 27 July 1935)

Tap here to view the cast list for the Melbourne season.

Fairy Opera Is Well Produced

"lolanthe" Fresh and Charming

By The Herald Music Critic

"IOLANTHE" (His Majesty's). — Gilbert and Sullivan's picturesque fairy opera, performed with grace and animation.

THE large audience at His Majesty's on Saturday heard with delight how the Fairy Queen, of commanding presence, had been taught by Iolanthe to curl herself inside a buttercup and swing on a cobweb. As the statuesque yet soft-hearted Fairy Queen, Evelyn Gardiner did her work of the season. She invested the character with lightness when it did not have to be imposing, gave point to the humor and sang with authority.

From the moment the fairies tripped lightly on to the stage at the rise of the curtain all was charming and spirited.

Their steps were not always fairy-like, but they moved with grace, sang admirably and helped materially toward the success of a performance that was greeted with great enthusiasm.

Minnie Everett, the producer, has been responsible for some notable productions of "lolanthe." and this one reveals all the fantasy and wit of an opera that is unique.

Whimsical Humor

The passage of time means nothing to fairies, and in their realms the opera retains a charm and freshness which the occasionally antiquated dialogue of the mortals destroy. But most of that which the mortals have to say and sing is also delightful because Gilbert's whimsical humor and satirical thrusts are generally as pointed as they were when "lolanthe" came into being more than 50 years ago, while Sullivan’s music seems to fit the words just as perfectly.

While not always Gilbertian in his antics, Ivan Menzies never fails to amuse, and as the highly susceptible Chancellor he gives a delightful performance. His patter song in the second act was a marvel of clarity.

The comedian was again the outstanding artist on Saturday, but many of the principals, whether in the form of mortals or fairies, acquitted themselves with distinction.

Fine Basso

An admirable study of the stolid Private Willis was given by Richard Watson, a fine basso with a ripe sense of humor, who made his Australian debut in Gilbert and Sullivan opera at the opening of this season, and has been a conspicuous figure in all the productions. He gave full value to the comedy of the soldier's political mediations in the song in the second act. The only regret about his performance was that he had not more to do.

In the role of the monocled Earl Tolloller, Godfrey Stirling, another new-comer, solemnly gave point to the humor and showed thorough appreciation of the character. In the contest of unselfishness for the hand of Phyllis, the ward in chancery, he and Bernard Manning as Earl Mountararat excelled. Mr Manning aroused the customary enthusiasm in his number, "When Britain Really Ruled the Waves."

Winifred Lawson was a dainty and vivacious Phyllis, and Gregory Stroud again artistically sustained the role of Strephon, half fairy, half mortal. The baritone was excellent in the rhapsodical appeal to the Lord Chancellor.

Eileen Kelly was sincere in the part of lolanthe, and gave emotional significance to the appeal to the Lord Chancellor on behalf of Strephon.

The finale to the first act, in which the vocal and orchestral forces joined with great spontaneity and animation, was a feature of the performance. Will Quintrell conducted with vitality and resource.

The Herald (Melbourne), Monday, 29 July 1935, p.12 – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/244930209

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ivan Menzies as the 'Lord Chancellor'

Winifred Lawson as 'Phyllis'

GILBERT AND SULLIVAN REVIVALS.

Fine Presentation of Iolanthe.

Although with the passage of time some of the libretto and lyrics of Iolanthe have lost their significance, this light opera, which was presented on Saturday at His Majesty's, has many fervent admirers amongst "Savoyards." Whether it is as good as or better than this or that other Gilbert and Sullivan opera is a matter for argument. But of one thing there is no possible doubt whatever, and that is, it furnishes entertainment of a much higher standard than the best of modern light operas—if indeed there are any present-day musical plays which can be so classified. In this opera Gilbert displayed his inimitable flair for the incongruous by linking up the House of Lords with Arcadia. Thus we are introduced to fairyland with its graceful revels, and also to the Palace Yard, Westminster, where Private Willis, in his sentry's song—which has a familiar ring even in these days—informs us that: —

When in that house M.P.’s divide.
   If they've the brain and cerebellum, too,
They've got to leave that brain outside,
   And vote just as their leaders tell 'em to.

Although the majority of the early Savoy patrons entered into the spirit of Gilbert's whimsicality and thoroughly appreciated Iolanthe, a number of critics frowned on the satirical treatment of the House of Lords, just as some humorless folk would to-day, no doubt, regard it as disrespectful to associate our Legislative Council with the Millenium. The audience on Saturday obviously enjoyed Gilbert's satire and wit, as it also relished the quaint and gossamer-like melodies of the gifted Sullivan.

Another marked success must be entered up to Ivan Menzies, whose presentation of the Lord Chancellor created a great deal of merriment and not a little admiration. He overcame the difficulties of the lengthy tongue-twisting patter song Love Unrequited with surprising ease, and altogether gave a very clever interpretation of the role. Winifred Lawson, as Phyllis, maintained the excellent impression she had made as Elsie Maynard in the Yeomen of the Guard. Her role was winsomely sustained throughout, and her artistic singing gave the keenest pleasure. Features of her presentation were the delightful duets with Gregory Stroud, None Shall Part Us and If We're Weak Enough to Tarry, both of which were clamorously encored. As Iolanthe, Eileen Kelly also sang pleasingly, especially in the solo My Lord a Suppliant at Your Feet. Evelyn Gardiner is an experienced Fairy Queen, and this experience enabled her on Saturday to achieve an outstanding success. Her resonant contralto and commendable diction were displayed to the best advantage in the opening number, Iolanthe From This Dark Exile, and in O Foolish Fay. As the half-fairy, half-mortal Strephon, Gregory Stroud gave the presentation the essential lightness of touch, and, apart from his brief entry solo, Good Morrow, Good Mother, which most baritones seen in the role have found it difficult to make impressive, Mr. Stroud's singing, especially in association with Miss Lawson, was greatly appreciated. Richard Watson had very restricted opportunities as Private Willis, but his sentry's song was one of the gems of the evening. The roles of Earl Mountararat and Earl Tolloller were well presented by Bernard Manning and Godfrey Stirling respectively. Mr. Manning being recalled for his spirited rendering of When Britain Really Ruled the Waves. Perhaps the most popular item was the delightful trio, He Who Shies at Such a Prize, in which Messrs. Manning and Stirling co-operated with Mr. Menzies both in the singing and in the "by play."

Although early in the first act there were traces of uncertainty, the chorus singing was again a feature. Great enthusiasm was created by the spectacular scene in which a stage band in the uniform of the Grenadiers is associated with the fairies and peers.

Iolanthe will be produced for eleven more nights with matinees on Wednesday and Saturday. On Saturday, 10th August, The Mikado will be staged.

The Age (Melbourne), Monday, 29 July 1935, p.10 – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/203988990

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Richard Watson as 'Private Willis'

Gregory Stroud as 'Strephon' & Winifred Lawson as 'Phyllis'

(1926 D'Oyly Carte Opera Co. season of "Iolanthe")

Further reviews may be read at:

• The Sun News-Pictorial – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/276781399
• The Argus review – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/11752351

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Discography:

 "Good morrow good lover"- Winifred Lawson & Leslie Rands (rec. 1930)

 "None shall part us"- Winifred Lawson & Leslie Rands (rec. 1930)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

• The Mikado (Saturday, 10 August 1935) 

Tap here to view the cast list for the Melbourne season.

Bernard Manning in the titular role

Good Music, Rollicking Fun

"THE MIKADO” WELCOMED

Colorful Staging

By The Herald Music Critic

"THE MIKADO” (His Majesty's) — Popular Gilbert & Sullivan opera played and greeted with enthusiasm.

FULL of melodic gems, rollicking fun and pointed jest, "The Mikado" is always "a source of innocent merriment." This opera was given a very spirited performance on Saturday night, and was greeted with tremendous enthusiasm by a crowded audience.

Principals and chorus had been well rehearsed, and the performance went more smoothly than is usual on a first night of this colorful opera.

There was a good deal of stage buffoonery, which must have offended those who expect strict adherence to tradition, and which Gilbert would certainly not have permitted.

British faces peered through some ineffective disguises on the stage, but a striking character was "the great and virtuous" Mikado of Bernard Manning. He made it sinister and oily, as it should be, and his cleverly fantastic make-up was complete. Mr Manning showed a scrupulous regard for detail at all times, and his song about making the punishment fit the crime was capitally sung and acted.

All Sorts Of Caprices

Ivan Menzies' Ko-Ko, the centre and inexhaustible fount of fun, was, as usual, full of resource and nimbleness. He indulged in all sorts of caprices, was spontaneous in the liberties he took, and had the audience in roars of laughter when he sang about those who never would be missed. His mock serious protestations of love to Katisha, and his rendering of the gentle "Willow, Tit-Willow," were among the satisfying proofs of his versatility.

Richard Watson brought dry and deliberate humor to the pompous Pooh-Bah. It was a sound, if not a particularly subtle portrayal of this great role. The basso's short number wishing long life to Nanki-Poo, who has to die in a month, was a gem. Whether he spoke or sang, Mr Watson's words were always clear.

The forbidding Katisha, who describes herself as an acquired taste, was played by Evelyn Gardiner. She did not dominate the stage at her entry, but reached dramatic heights in the admirable climax which closed the first act. Her acting subsequently was satisfying. Vocally, she did best in the recitative and aria "Alone and Yet Alive."

Artistic Yum-Yum

An artistic Yum-Yum was Winifred Lawson, who entered well into the spirit of the character, and understood the world of frivolous make-believe into which the Three Little Maids are projected. She gave point not only to the light touches, but to the serio-comic, and sang with a nice sense of phrasing; "The Sun Whose Rays" was beautifully modulated.

Godfrey Stirling gained the customary favor for his rendering of "A Wand'ring Minstrel, I," which was well articulated and phrased, and gave point to Nanki Poo's "modified rapture."

In recent years we have heard that Nanki-Poo's address is Little Bourke Street. It has now changed to Fisherman’s Bend.

The experienced Gregory Stroud was dignified and convincing in all his work as Pish-Tush.

As Pitti-Sing, Eileen Kelly sang with expressive skill, and Jean Battye was also vocally good as Peep-Bo, but they want to take a lesson from the other Little Maid in order to pitter patter and flit about with the requisite lightness.

The chorus sang capitally, and the groupings were very effective.

The Herald (Melbourne), Monday, 12 August, p.16 – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/244924731

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Godfrey Stirling as 'Nanki-Poo'

Winifred Lawson as 'Yum-Yum'

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

His Majesty's
GILBERT AND SULLIVAN

"The Mikado”

"Begone, Dull Care"

On March 14, 1935, "The Mikado” celebrated its 50th birthday, but no madcap youth ever resisted more successfully the onslaughts of middle age. The dancing feet of Yum Yum and of her "lord high executioner" lover could never adapt themselves to the measured step of maturity. Pooh Bah is but a small boy who burlesques his elders, and even the vindictive Katisha can only play at being old. By inviting men and women to lay aside their cares, to re-enter the captivating world of childhood, and to refresh their sophisticated palates with draughts of innocent merriment, these charming entertainers indulge in an enchanting form of social service. They uphold the twin banners of purity and laughter, they replace dubious innuendo by clean wit, they rout their enemies in the spirit of the troubadours with dancing and with singing. In the sunshine evoked by these cunning reformers the artificial lighting of the Hollywood night club and the meretricious glitter of the cheap revue are alike discountenanced.

The production of the opera on Saturday night was worthy of the delightful material. Both principals and chorus displayed infectious enthusiasm and a high degree of efficiency; the singing was excellent, and, after a somewhat unsteady performance of the overture, the orchestra, under Mr William Quintrell, gave capable support. Where each member of the company gave of his or her best, distinctions are invidious, but special praise may be awarded to Miss Winifred Lawson who, both vocally and dramatically, proved herself the ideal Yum Yum. Whether manoeuvring the most flirtatiously designed of fans, explaining her natural objection to being buried alive, admiring her charms in the looking-glass, exchanging rapturous kisses with the melodious Nanki-Poo (Mr Godfrey Stirling), or making impertinent fun of Pooh Bah (Mr Richard Watson), this miniature heroine displayed exquisitely refined and polished stage technique. The young Australian members of the company should study more closely the diction and deportment of this experienced Savoy actress. Some broad vowels indulged in by Yum Yum’s otherwise competent attendants were rendered more obvious by Miss Lawson's perfectly defined articulation.

As Ko-Ko Mr. Ivan Menzies discovered unlimited scope for comic enterprise and his dancing, facial expression, and exhibitions of double over-arm swimming, golf strokes, and lightning caricature kept the audience in a state of hilarious expectancy. "Where is Nanki-Poo," demanded the Mikado. "Fisherman's Bend," replied the comedian, who at one stage of the proceedings donned enormous goggles to the almost hysterical delight of his admirers. A dumb show rendering of "Flowers That Bloom in the Spring," punctuated by orchestral crashes, was another successful essay in popular entertainment. More subtly amusing was the spectacle of this untrained executioner practising inadequate strokes at the heads of chrysanthemums, and another very funny incident was the silent sobbing of the comedian while "getting used" to the love-making between his temporarily discarded fiancee and her dashing second trombone lover. In the occupation of merry-making Mr Menzies received admirable assistance from Mr Gregory Stroud and Mr Watson. Pooh Bah was a gloriously pompous personage, whose haughty "Go away, little girls," was invested with just the right amount of contemptuous patronage, and another good performance was contributed by Mr Bernard Manning, who as a splendidly sinister Mikado, achieved a most effective laugh which ludicrously suggested a whistling kettle at the height of its activities. Miss Evelyn Gardiner made of Katlsha a pathetic and likable personality, and Mr Stirling sang the music allotted to Nanki-Poo with his usual efficient calm.

Matinees of "The Mikado" will be given on Wednesday and Saturday. The next production will be "HMS Pinafore," together with "Cox and Box."

The Argus (Melbourne), Monday, 12 August 1935, p.7 – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/11756722

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Further reviews may be read at:

• The Sun News-Pictorial review – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/277094966
• The Age review – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/203996055

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ivan Menzies as 'Ko-Ko'

Evelyn Gardiner as 'Katisha'

As noted in the reviews, Ivan Menzie's put his own unique stamp on the role of 'Ko-Ko', which predictably raised the ire of the "traditionalists", who subsequently put pen to paper to register their displeasure in the Press, as the following sample of "Letters to The Editor" bear witness.

DEPARTURE FROM TRADITION

TO THE EDITOR OF THE ARGUS

Sir, – Departure from the original severe condition of Gilbert and Sullivan opera amounts almost to sacrilege and, to the Savoy enthusiast, is the eighth deadly sin. It might be said, “It gets the laughs,” but in the words of Gilbert himself, “So it would if one sat down on a jam tart.” Gilbert and Sullivan have come to be regarded as English classics, and have survived gloriously for more than fifty years without the aid of jam tarts or clowns. Cannot we continue to trust?

–Yours &c,
D. E. CLARKE
Cromwell-road, South Yarra, Aug. 11

The Argus (Melbourne), Monday, 12 August 1935, p.7

* * * * *

Antics in Savoy Operas

Sir, – There are times when one feels that Mr. Ivan Menzies is essentially one of those funny fellows and comic men whom W. S. Gilbert would most gladly have put upon the list. On Saturday night he spoilt an otherwise excellent performance of “The Mikado” by exhibitions of circus buffoonery. It is strange that a really capable comedian should on occasion choose to act like this. Equally deplorable is the encouragement he receives from the undiscriminating, and the bad example set him by certain other stupid business, which has marred every production of “The Mikado” in Melbourne during the last 15 years.

When playing such parts as the Widow Twankey, in which, I understand, London has been privileged to see him, Mr. Menzies may be able to find unlimited scope for his originality. In interpreting Gilbert and Sullivan he should realise that his work should be “set down with as much modesty as cunning.”

–Yours, &c.
BASIL MURPHY.
South Yarra, Aug. 12,

The Argus (Melbourne), Tuesday, 13 August 1935, p.5 – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/11757066

[Mr Murphy's condemnation also extended to Menzies' predecessor in the principal G&S comic roles, Charles Walenn, who had played 'Ko-Ko' in the JCW revivals of 1914 - 15, 1920 - 22 and 1926 - 28.]

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ivan Menzies as 'Ko-Ko'

To which the unfazed comedian responded thusly:

KO-KO REPLIES TO CRITICS

Savoy Tradition

Mr Ivan Menzies, the comedian, is at present Ko-Ko, Lord High Executioner of Titipu, and today he gave some light touches to some cutting remarks concerning those who object to the manner in which he carries out his duties in that role on His Majesty's Theatre stage.

The comedian said that there were always a few persons who declared that tradition was being departed from in productions of “The Mikado”, which was first staged in 1885, and that performances were not as good as they used to be. Complaints had been made for so many years that they had become traditional.

"It was really disgraceful that the great majority of persons should laugh as heartily as they did during performances of 'The Mikado,’ and such behaviour should be made an offence," said Mr Menzies with mock seriousness.

The comedian added that the growlers should form an anti-laughter league, and when persons dared to laugh heartily the league should "put 'em on the list." Ko-Ko should be dressed in black and made up in such a manner that he could not even raise an eyebrow in an attempt to make people laugh.

Getting back into a serious vein. Mr Menzies said that he played Ko-Ko according to his reading of the part, and he learned his work by understudying Sir Henry Lytton. His rending had had the approval of Rupert D'Oyly Carte, J. C. Williamson Ltd., and the firm's producer. Miss Minnie Everett, and he would adhere to it unless directed otherwise.

The Herald – Monday, 15 August 1935, p. 14 – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/244924942

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Gregory Stroud as 'Pish-Tush'

Richard Watson as 'Pooh-Bah'

photo by Sam Hood (Mitchell Library, Sydney)

Discography:

 "Our great Mikado" - Gregory Stroud & chorus (rec. 1939)

 "Young man, despair"- Richard Watson with Leonard Osborn & Alan Styler (rec. 1950)

"I am so proud" - Richard Watson, Martyn Green & Alan Styler (rec. 1950)

 "Miya Sama - A more humane Mikado" - Bernard Manning & JCW chorus (rec. 1950)

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

• H.M.S. Pinafore & Cox and Box (Saturday, 31 August 1935) – the latter subsequently replaced by Trial by Jury from 7 September on.

GILBERT AND SULLIVAN

"H.M.S. Pinafore"

Bright Performance

"At present there are 12 companies playing ‘Pinafore’ about the country. Companies formed after 6 p.m. yesterday are not included." Such was the notice which appeared in an American newspaper of 1879, and the merry laughter with which an audience, composed chiefly of child enthusiasts, welcomed the revival of the opera on Saturday afternoon proved that young Australians can derive unmixed satisfaction from this "best-seller" of the 19th century. The lasting qualities of Savoy opera, its humour, vitality, movement, and shrewd sense of observation, rest upon a secure foundation of team-work, neat construction, and an adroit mixture of farce and realism. Captain Corcoran may make sorrowful complaint to the moon, but almost in the same breath he grumbles in colloquial English; the sea may shine with a gaiety of hue which could never suggest the vicinity of Portsmouth, but the gallant crew of H.M.S. Pinafore remains unalterably British, and exercises its collective feet with hornpipes and its lungs with "Rule Britannia."

Far less convincing in its technical development is Sullivan's early comic operetta "Cox and Box." Produced on this occasion as a curtain-raiser, it provided abundant scope for intelligent burlesque by Mr. Lennox Brewer, Mr. Clifford Cowley, and Mr. Richard Watson, but no degree of humorous activity by the interpreters could hide the threadbare nature of the material nor obscure the uneasy craftsmanship of the librettist, F. C. Burnand.

While the performance of "Pinafore" did not merit the use of the epithet "distinguished," It was sound and lively.

There were occasional slips and uncertainties, and some of the principals paid slavish attention to the beat of the conductor, but, apart from a temporary misalliance between Captain Corcoran (Mr. Gregory Stroud) and the orchestra, the unrehearsed incidents did not seriously disturb the even flow of the music. Mr. Stroud did uniformly capital work, and strolled about the stage with true naval nonchalance. Vocally, he was in excellent form, and his comic "touches" were the more effective by contrast with his customary air of serene indifference. Mr. Ivan Menzies achieved his usual success as Sir Joseph Porter, and supplied his admirers with a brief but welcome demonstration of his gifts as a dancer. Mr. Godfrey Stirling sang the music allotted to the mournful but indefatigable Ralph Rackstraw with excellence resonance, and displayed more dramatic vivacity than in previous performances. As Dick Deadeye Mr. Bernard Manning looked suitably malevolent, and made himself thoroughly disagreeable in a thoroughly laudable manner. Miss Helen Langton was a commendable reticent Josephine, and attempted the by no means simple music with courage and very fair success. Miss Evelyn Gardiner was an experienced, if somewhat subdued, Little Buttercup; Mr. Watson and Mr. Cowley were exuberant mates; Miss Eileen Kelly looked so attractive in her red beret as to impart some measure of personality to the almost speechless Hebe; and the chorus and orchestra, directed by Mr. William Quintrell did much estimable work.

"H.M.S. Pinafore" will be played for 11 more nights, and will be followed on Saturday, September 14, by "Patience," the booking for which will open at Allan's next Monday morning.

The booking is now open at Allan's for the official gala performance which is to take place at His Majesty's Theatre next Friday evening, in honour of Mr. Katsuji Debuchi, the Japanese good-will envoy,

The Argus (Melbourne), Monday, 2 September 1935, p.5 – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/11763607

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Aboard H.M.S. Pinafore with Gregory Stroud as 'Captain Corcoran' - "My gallant crew, good morning!"

 H.M.S. PINAFORE.

Bright Performance at His Majesty's.

H.M.S. Pinafore, with its usual spic and span appearance and its traditionally trim and musical officers and men made another anchorage at His Majesty's Theatre on Saturday. J. C. Williamson's company efficiently presented this clever, albeit mild, satire on the nautical drama and the unblushing jingoes of the Victorian era, and sang delightfully the melodious and lively music with which Sullivan embellished the work. The audience enjoyed to the full the unconventional occurrences on the quarter-deck, and followed with keen interest the fortunes of the captain, who "hardly ever" used a "Big, Big D," and of the head of the navy, who owed his appointment to the fact, among others, that he had polished up that handle so carefully.

As Sir Joseph Porter, First Lord of the Admiralty, who, with a certain qualification, had radical ideas as to courtesies between officers and men, Ivan Menzies was excellent. His autobiographical song, in which he reveals just how he came to be the Ruler of the Queen's Navee, created considerable amusement, as also did his nimble and eccentric movements during the lively trio with Corcoran and Josephine, Never Mind the Why and Wherefore, which was thrice encored. Gregory Stroud was Captain Corcoran, "and a right good captain too." His smart appearance, pleasant singing and general presentation of the role were distinctive enough to justify the cessation of the demand for naval disarmament—at least the ladies present on Saturday night probably thought so. Evelyn Gardiner was also markedly successful as Buttercup, her humor and gaiety being infectious.

Except for occasional harshness in her high notes, Helen Langton sang pleasingly in the role of Josephine. She looked so attractive that the humble sailor, Ralph Rackstraw, well presented by Godfrey Stirling, could be readily forgiven his revolutionary action in so spurning social distinctions as to make love to his captain's daughter. Richard Watson (Bill Bobstay) and Bernard Manning (remarkably "made up" as Dick Deadeye) both gave clever sketches, and Clifford Cowley (Bob Beckett) and Eileen Kelly (Hebe) were effective in minor roles.

The chorus work was again keenly appreciated, especially in the singing of He is an Englishman, in which Sullivan's music has an oratorio-like touch.  The introductory solo was splendidly rendered by Mr. Watson. The orchestra, under Will Quintrell's guidance, was an important factor in the success of the performance, and the effect of Miss Everett's experienced supervision could be discerned in the general presentation.

Cox and Box was again chosen as a curtain raiser to Pinafore. Sullivan imparted a liveliness to his music that considerably atoned for the shortcomings of the libretto, which was adapted by F. C. Burnand from a farce by Maddison Morton. Richard Watson presented an amusing sketch of Bouncer, the boarding house keeper, with the parade ground actions; Clifford Cowley as Box the Printer, displayed his resonant baritone to advantage, and Lennox Brewer as Cox the Hatter, completed a trio which presented the trifle with considerable verve.

H.M.S. Pinafore will be played for eleven more nights, and will be followed on Saturday, 14th, by Patience, the booking for which will open at Allan's next Monday morning.

The booking is now open at Allan's for the official gala performance, which is to take place at His Majesty's next Friday evening in honor of Mr. Katsuji Debuchi, the Japanese ambassador. This performance will be attended by the Governor and Lady Huntingfield, the Premier, members of the State Cabinet, the Lord Mayor and Lady Mayoress, the consul for Japan and others.

The Herald (Melbourne), Monday, 2 September 1935, p.10 – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/244802326

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Evelyn Gardiner as 'Little Buttercup'

photo by Sam Hood (Mitchell Library, Sydney)

Ivan Menzies as 'Sir Joseph Porter, KCB'

photo by Sam Hood (Mitchell Library, Sydney)

Further reviews may be read at:

• The Age review – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/203859370
• The Sun News-Pictorial review – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/277025664
• The Australasian review – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/141762185
• The Age "Gala Theatre Night" – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/203859057

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

• Patience (Saturday, 14 September 1935)

SAVOY OPERAS.

A Revival of Patience.

Many connoisseurs of the Savoy operas display a very strong partiality for Patience, which was revived at His Majesty's Theatre on Saturday. Although the libretto pertains to an aesthetic craze which long since has passed into oblivion, Gilbert revealed in it so markedly his gifts of incisive satire, humorous extravagance and witty versifying that it is not surprising the opera is still "a source of innocent merriment." Sullivan, like his collaborator, ran true to form and, displaying his rare skill and sense of fitness, embellished the libretto and lyrics with graceful melodies and harmonies, the last-mentioned in some instances revealing a high standard of craftsmanship. In this connection the madrigal-like Sextet “I Hear the Soft Note,” may be mentioned as a striking example. The performance on Saturday was not without blemishes, but nevertheless the audience thoroughly enjoyed it, and at times was very enthusiastic.

As Reginald Bunthorne, the self-confessed aesthetic sham, Ivan Menzies gave a presentation which may be bracketed with his Jack Point as his best of the series. Altogether it was a skilful and amusing portrayal with extremes of sedateness and of the sublimely ridiculous. As his rival for the affection of the twenty love-sick maidens, Gregory Stroud, as Grosvenor (Archibald the All-right), also scored heavily, not only with the said maidens, but with the audience. His rendering of the solo “A Magnet Hung in a Hardware Shop”, with which the female chorus was so happily associated, was the most popular item of the performance, the audience insistently demanding three encores, and throwing the presentation a little off its balance.

Evelyn Gardiner was in excellent voice and was admirably suited to the role of Lady Jane. Her rendition of “Silvered is the Raven Hair”, in which she deplores the fact, among several others, that "shapeless grows the shapely limb," was thoroughly enjoyable, her manipulation of the 'cello creating great amusement.

Winifred Lawson excels in such roles as Patience, which call for dainty treatment. She played the part on Saturday with her usual charm, and sang pleasingly, except when she strayed slightly off the note in the waltz-time solo “Love is a Plaintive Song”.

Richard Watson was a dashing Colonel Calverley of the Dragoon Guards, and, despite the fact that some of the music is scored a little high for a bass singer, he enunciated the difficult patter song with commendable clarity and received the compliment of a double encore. Clifford Cowley gave a neat sketch of Major Murgatroyd, but Vincent McMurray showed traces of inexperience as the Duke of Dunstable. Helen Langton was a pleasing Lady Angela, and she sang artistically her share of the duet with Miss Lawson, “Long Years Ago, Fourteen Maybe”. Eileen Kelly, as Lady Saphir, and Jean Battye, as Lady Ella, were also successful in minor roles.

The chorus singing continues an outstanding feature of the series, and the orchestra, under Will Quintrell's alert guidance, also has contributed greatly to the success of the revivals.

There will be a matinee of Patience on Wednesday, and the final performance will be given on Friday evening.

The following productions are announced for the last nights of the season: — Next Saturday, 21st September (matinee and night), and 23rd and 24th, The Gondoliers; 25th, 26th (matinee and night) and 27th, The Mikado; 23rd September (matinee and night), 30th September and 1st and 2nd October (matinee and night), The Yeomen of the Guard. Booking for the opening performance of The Gondoliers will open at Allan's this morning.

The Age (Melbourne), Monday 16 September 1935, p.10 – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/203860826

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ivan Menzies as 'Bunthorne'

Winifred Lawson as 'Patience'

“PATIENCE”

Miss Lawson Succeeds

As the dairymaid heroine who cannot tell what this “Love May Be” Miss Winifred Lawson carried off the honours of the opening performance of “Patience.” This exquisitely trained actress achieved a perfect balance between the comic and the decorous attributes of Savoy opera. “Patience,” in her interpretation, might be a shocking little hypocrite, but she never ceased to charm; she might carry common sense to the verge of priggishness, but there was always a redeeming twinkle in her eye; she might monopolise the attentions of both the “fleshy” and the “idyllic” poets, but she stole their hearts so prettily that her most jealous rival could not repress a smile at such successful cunning. The music allotted to Patience did not always lie comfortably within Miss Lawson's compass but by an ingenious use of pianissimo singing she made a virtue of necessity, and where she could not attack a head note with full assurance, suggested its implication by a cleverly adjusted method of indirect accent. The soprano was well supported by the bevy of rapturous and lovesick maidens who sang agreeably and moved about the stage with disciplined composure. As the ecstatic Lady Angela, Miss Helen Langton rhapsodied in competent fashion, although her enunciation of vowels lacked clear definition.

The nice distinction between haste and speed observed both dramatically and musically by Miss Lawson was unfortunately disregarded by most of her colleagues. Discriminating lovers of Savoy opera can recall a fastidiously reticent character study of Reginald Bunthorne supplied in a previous season by Mr Ivan Menzies. For such enthusiasts the performance by the comedian on Saturday afternoon was a sore disappointment. Obvious fooling and the introduction of a farcical spirit of caricature were poor substitutes for the allusive wit and subtle gestures which make of Bunthorne one of the most convincing, as he is also one of the cleverest creations in the Gilbertian gallery of satiric portraits. Mr Gregory Stroud was a passive Archibald Grosvenor. Miss Evelyn Gardiner displayed good style, but less animation than usual in her rendering of the alarmingly persistent Lady Jane, and the three officers of the Dragoon Guards only came to life when posturing as aesthetic suitors and the male chorus did not evince much interest in the fickle maidens for whose favours the gallant soldiers were supposed to pine.

There will be a matinee of “Patience” next Wednesday and the final performance will be given on Friday evening. The following productions are announced for the last nights of the season in accordance with the plebiscite recently taken by “The Argus” to determine the most popular operas of the series and for the benefit or visitors to the Royal Agricultural Show – September 21 (matinee and night), 23, 24, “The Gondoliers”; September 25, 20 (matinee and night), 27, “The Mikado”; September 28 (matinee and night), 30, October 1, 2 (matinee and night) “The Yeomen of the Guard.” Booking for the opening performance of “The Gondoliers” will be available at Allan's this morning.

The Argus (Melbourne), Monday, 16 September 1935, p.11 – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/11767652

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Am I alone, and unobserved?"

"I cannot tell what this love may be."

Further reviews may be read at:

• The Sun News-Pictorial review – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/277029572
• The Herald review – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/244788118

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Discography:

 "Still brooding on their mad infatuation - I cannot tell what this love may be" - Winifred Lawson & chorus (rec. 1930)

 "Long years ago, fourteen maybe" - Winifred Lawson with Nellie Briercliffe" (rec. 1930)

 "Love is a plaintive song" - Winifred Lawson (rec. 1930)

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Appendix:

"THE VANISHING ISLAND"

The only commercial reecording that Ivan Menzies made during his performing career was the original 1956 London cast recording of The Vanishing Island - a musical play in three acts by Peter Howard and Cecil Broadhurst with music by Will Reed and George Fraser - in which Menzies played the role of 'King Capricorn', King of Eiluph'mei in the production staged by the Moral Re-Armament movement.

The following songs from the score featuring Ivan Menzies are included as examples of his talents as a performer, while the final number also encapsulates his personal philosophy as an advocate of Moral Re-Armament.

"You say I'm the Monarch of all I survey" - Ivan Menzies & chorus

"A man with a fire in his heart"- Ivan Menzies & chorus

"Perhaps I'm the cause of your whole complaint" - Ivan Menzies

"The sound of a million voices" - Ivan Menzies & chorus

Casdtalbums.org

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

IVAN MENZIES IS "CHANGED"

and cocktails and parties belong to the past now that the popular comedian belongs to the Oxford Group Movement; according to Stanley Parker in this week's theatrical causerie.

I THOUGHT it would be of interest to hear what has happened to Ivan Menzies since he was last here. So I asked him to re-live the last two years.

"What did you do first?" I asked.

"Nearly froze," he answered cryptically. "I had not known a winter for nearly four years, and not even the Christmas festivities could keep me warm. In fact, I almost packed up and came back."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I bought an island, instead."

He says this casually, applying a touch of powder to his nose, as if it were quite an everyday occurrence.

"But surely that's a rather thrilling thing to do?"

"I should say it is! It is the fulfilment of a dream. Listen . . . Last time I was out here I went for a holiday cruise off the coast of Queensland, and I thought, as we touched many of the islands, 'This, quite obviously, is Heaven;' and I dreamt dreams, as even the most practical of us are wont to, of renouncing the world and living a simple fundamental life amidst all this beauty. I dismissed the dream, of course, as a Utopian fantasy.

The Island Was For Sale!

"And then, a few days after my arrival in England, I found that one of those magical isles was FOR SALE!

"The owner had been going to leave it to the Barnardo Boys, but decided that to make a good sale, and leave the money instead, might be more useful. So I got it! A certain piquancy was given to the whole affair by the fact that the owner, a dear old lady, was a descendant of Selkirk Gordon, who served Defoe, you might recall, as the model on which Robinson Crusoe was created. It is exciting for me to think that my little island is linked up with such a tradition.

"Of course," he went on, "I came into the limelight a good deal over this. There was a whole page about it in the Daily Mirror and people said that, with any flair for money-making, the place could be turned into a sensationally successful pleasure resort; you know, a large hotel, gaming tables, baths, casinos, palais, and a couple of aeroplanes to keep in touch with the mainland. But I haven’t a flair for that sort of thing, and anyway, it is the antithesis of what I want my island to be.

"I seemed to capture the public imagination: one paper said 'Half England is unhappy in its job: it is daydreaming of owning an island.' And many people came to me to see if I wanted to people it with a few inhabitants. I did, of course, as long as they were the right kind, and I considered myself fortunate in getting the people I did. There were a young chemist and his wife, a mother and two sons (one of whom is quite brilliant, and a Gold Medallist at the Royal Academy). It would be a wonderful haven for an artist . . . the island "next door," you know, is where Banfield, the novelist, lived, and died, and wrote his books."

"And then?"

"And then I met the Oxford Group, and became a changed man—"

How changed was revealed to me an hour or so later, after the show. I can still remember "Jimmy's" last party in Melbourne, when the gaiety lasted almost until dawn, and toasts were drunk in cocktails, liqueurs, and every conceivable kind of wine.

Milk for Supper

It was rather a far cry to the glass of milk, and plate of biscuits, that formed our supper now.

"But that's just a minor thing," Jimmy explained. "My whole nature and personality have changed. You can't help changing, once you come into contact with the Group. I have known life, since I was here before; lived in the slums, in the East End of London, in one room. And lived in grandeur and style in the West End, to see if there really IS one law for the rich, and one for the poor."

"And is there?"

"No. Wherever the Group is, people are equally happy. I can't tell you what it is like: it is as if hitherto Life had been a high powered engine that you did not know how to run: and suddenly you do. Whereas before, when I was running my life my own way, it was my own power I was using, now when I am running it God's way, it is God's power."

It seemed a little fantastic to think of one of our favorite comedians "going religious" with such a vengeance, and I told him so.

"But don’t you think I realised that too?" he asked. "It seemed absurd to me, that I, Ivan Menzies, onetime Pagan, agnostic, and what have you, should attempt to live his life to the Group ideals! "Absolute Honesty: Absolute Purity: Absolute Unselfishness; and Absolute Love." but it can be done, and it has been done. At first it was like going off a terrifically high dive; but after a white I realised, with a sense of exultation, 'I'm afloat; I'm SWIMMING!' And now I'm absolutely fanatical about it. I want to convert everyone, for I sincerely believe (and so do many great politicians, philosophers, and statesmen) that only through the Oxford Group, can the world avoid the great Crisis that is awaiting it. It is spreading like a fire over Europe; but if only EVERYONE could hear its message. To me, it is as if a vital message is being broadcast to this world from a Higher Being, and we won't even bother to use our receiving sets. To point another allegory, it is as if we are all in possession of a wonderful infallible aeroplane that would take us round the world, and are yet wailing, 'However are we going to get to Adelaide?'"

Jimmy will talk to you like this by the hour; and if you are not very careful, he will convert you, too. He is quite undeterred by circumstances. "This is not a new denomination," he will say, "but a new Determination. IT will strengthen whatever religion you already have "

"And if you have none?"

"It will give you one."

With Music and Effects

His religious zeal, when coupled with his histrionic ability, is irresistible. I told him I was surprised he didn't leave the stage and use his talent for dramatics in the lecture hall.

"With Music and effects, etc?" he laughed. "Well, as a matter of fact, I HAD thought of that. But I soon discarded it. It would do more harm than good. What is the use of swaying a few thousand people by appealing to their emotions? It does far more good to win one person, quietly and commonsensically. And I have much more chance of doing that if I continue my life along its normal lines, and show, by example, that the Group need not affect one's vocation or one's external life, but is a workable, practical thing."

"It didn't affect my job," he continued, with a laugh. "After I returned from a tour with the International Team, I went bang into a pantomime, playing the 'Widow Twankey.'"

To play a Dame in a pantomime, with Absolute Honesty, Absolute Purity, Absolute Unselfishness, and Absolute Love would be, I should think, a severe test for anyone.

It says much for Jimmy that he passed with flying colors!

Table Talk (Melbourne), Thursday, 20 June 1935, p.15 - http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article149554061

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"I Have Seen the Loch Ness Monster"

and had high tea off Table Mountain," says Evelyn Gardiner, to Stanley Parker, in this week's theatrical  causerie.

"ER—have you done anything interesting, at all?" I asked Evelyn Gardiner, "since you were last here?"

The question was asked in all innocence, and I was hardly prepared for the onslaught.

"Done anything interesting?" she repeated, her huge eyes becoming huger in indignation, and her deep fruity contralto almost a denunciation. "DONE ANYTHING INTERESTING?. Oh, My DEAR—" (This, from Evelyn, is notalways a term of endearment: it often means she has forgotten your name.)

"I have seen the Loch Ness Monster (though everyone swore it was Charles Laughton). And I have had High Teaoff Table Mountain! I have been 6000ft. down into the very bowels of the earth, in search of gold. And I was the only woman present when a negro conducted his own case in a Court of Appeal!

"I have been trapped in a desert in the midst of a sandstorm, with chaos raging round me, for an area of 40 miles.

I have flown in an aerial display over Roberts Heights, where the parachuting must be done with dummies, because the air is so rare that one would break one's limbs. I have played opposite Sir Henry Lytton in his farewell performances, 'The Mikado' and 'The Gondoliers,' and I have journeyed to strange dim islands in the Hebrides. I have been to Oban, and gone down fathoms into the heart of the ocean in a submarine, and visited the islands of seals. I have made a sketching tour of Scotland, with dozens of sketch blocks depicting the most ancient castles. I have appeared in vaudeville with Beatrix Thompson, the first actress to obtain her 'A' pilot's licence in England, just as I was the first to gain it here. Because of my work in South Africa I had the great honor of appearing at the great function given for the Earl of Athlone at South Africa House, when Pierre Nief's magnificent mural decorations were exhibited for the first time. I was—I have—I—Oh, I have crammed a lifetime of experiences into the last two years, and you stand there and ask me HAVE I DONE ANYTHING INTERESTING? I ask you."

Her manner indicated that life was just too exasperating to be lived, in a world where journalists were so ingenuous.

"And," she went on, rather aggrievedly, still smarting under the sting, "I have been over steel works, soap works,breweries, and seen how newspapers are made—"

"You are really interested in these things?" I asked, rather fatuously.

"But, yes, of course," she replied. "I'm interested in anything that goes. That's why," she said, picking up yard afteryard of ermine trimmed train, and holding her hand out in a gesture of farewell, "I'm so interested in you!"

Table Talk (Melbourne), Thursday, 27 June 1935, p.16http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article149554134

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“I Never Actually Saved the King”

"I was far too nervous" says Winifred Lawson to Stanley Parker, in this week's theatrical causerie.

"Where everyone is somebody,
Then no one's anybody."

THIS line of Gilbert and Sullivan is rather apropros these days, particularly in Australia, and especially in the theatre.

Glorified chorus-girls (not always glorified) come out here, and are billed, and acclaimed, as stars of the first magnitude (until they return to London to fulfil some delightfully vague "important engagement," before retiring into obscurity) and big artists, with really International reputations, come, and go, unheralded and unsung.

Here is Winifred Lawson, for instance, the particularly bright, particular star of the D'Oyly Carte, associate of Sir Henry Lytton "for more years," she laughs, "than I care to think, or dare to divulge."

That is really rather absurd; ten years with one company is not particularly ageing, but it is a monument to an artist's integrity, particuarly when that company is a British Institution.

Winifred Lawson is a big name in England, and has been from the time when, as a very young girl, Rutland Boughton (composer of "The Immortal Hour") chose her to play Queen Guenevere in his "Round Table" at the Glastonbury Festival. There followed a couple of years of concerts, at the Queen's and Albert Halls, and then [Rupert] D'Oyly Carte searching for a soprano, heard her, and put her into "Princess Ida."

"It was a fortnight's engagement," she says. "But I'm still with him."

She is full of anecdotes. "I remember when I was playing in 'Pagliacci,' I was most realistic in the scene where I turn on the Hunchback and whip him; so much so that it fired the imagination of an enthusiastic admirer in the gallery, who, when I began to sing my aria, called out, 'No, no, go on hitting him.'

There is a scene in "The Gondoliers" that is a positive death trap to the unwary wanderer behind scenes. One can easily think one is slinking along behind the back-cloth, and suddenly find oneself in the centre of the stage, on a raised dais, with the eyes of the entire company and the audience upon one...

"Weil, can you imagine the effect on a London audience, of my dresser, a regular 'Belcher' woman, with a man's cap, and elastic sided boots stumping through this triumphal arch, to a fanfare and flourish of trumpets, just as 'The Duchess of Plaza-Toro' was announced!

Winifred can go on for hours like this. Try, if you can, to get her talking about her Canadian trip, when in Calgary, the Indian reservation where the Prince of Wales has a ranch, the "Gilberts" gave open air performances.

"Sir Henry Lytton was made a Chieftain, 'Chief Running-Water' I think it was—"

"And did they make you anything?" I asked.

"I should say they did, they made me absolutely terrified, when I realised that some of the old chiefs, (one was about ninety) must have scalped far better singers than I in their time!

"But there was one other time," she goes on. "When I was even more terrified, and that was when, at a big social function, I was chosen to sing 'God Save the King' before the Prince of Wales.

"My dear! I was so nervous that I forgot the words!!!

" 'May he reign over us.'

" 'May he reign over us,' I kept repeating.

"'May heeeeeee he reign over us—and I never once saved him!"

Turned Down The Greatest Offer Ever Received

WHENEVER actors and actresses get together the conversation invariably turns to "Shop," the wonderful contracts they have had, and the amazing offers they have received.

The other night when we were chatting in His Majesty's Green Room, Gregory Stroud said, "Well, I think I can claim the distinction of turning down what was probably the greatest offer that anyone in the theatrical profession has ever received."

"What was it?" we all asked.

"Half a dozen sows," he replied, "and a boar!"

Gregory has, as you perhaps know, has always been interested in farming, and this "offer," made by Wilcox when he passed through Adelaide just recently, was, he says, very tempting.

"But I am afraid that even half a hundred cows and a bull couldn't make me give up the stage;" was his final dictum, and everyone whole-heartedly agreed.

Table Talk (Melbourne), Thursday, 25 July 1935, p.19, - https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/149554477

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

HE PREFERS ACTING TO TEACHING

How Richard Watson left school teaching for grand opera [is] the subject of Stanley Parker's theatrical causerie this week. 

IT'S a far—and, in this case, stentorian—cry from teaching young men Mathematics and Languages to singing in Grand Opera at Covent Garden: but it is a cry that has been most successfully cried by Richard Watson.

One time resident master of King's College, Adelaide. Richard was first lured off the straight and narrow platform of his schoolroom by winning the Winslow Hall Scholarship, and then the matter was finally decided for him when he won the Elder Travelling Scholarship. This meant three years at the Royal College of Music in London under Johnston Douglas.

"On leaving here," Richard told me, "I was particularly lucky to go straight into a magnificent job — principal bass at Covent Garden, singing roles such as 'Kethner' in 'Die Meistersinger' with such famous artists as Lotte Lehmann,

Habbish and Wolfe. I remained with this company for three years, until, in fact, the subsidy collapsed and the organisation broke up. We were scattered all over the place—Ben Williams and Arthur Fears to "Casanova," Heddle Nash to "The Du Barry," and I to the D'Oyly Carte.

"A very great honor befell me when Her Royal Highness the Princess Victoria asked me to sing at her home. It was very thrilling, of course, and particularly so as my accompanist, who also played solos, was another Australian. Roy Shepherd."

After the D'Oyly Carte engagement, I was approached by Lilian Baylis for the Old Vic. Opera Season, but then came this heaven-sent (I should rather call it Tait-sent) opportunity to return to my native heath. I hadn't beenhome for nine years you know, so after putting in a few months with the "Rosa," I returned. I can't tell you howthrilling it was to play in Adelaide.

"But don't you find that the old nostalgia for the schoolroom creeps over you sometimes," I suggested. "Thepoignant smell of blackboard, the bitter-sweet squeak of chalk; don't they sometimes call with an overpowering insistency? Isn't the magic lure of the ink wells too strong to resist?"

"No …” he replied. "I'm afraid not."

"Well. if you're going to be such a nark," I said, "the interview is ended!"

Table Talk (Melbourne), Thursday 8 August 1935, p.17 - https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/149554645

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Teaching The Duke To Make-up

Bernard Manning tells Stanley Parker about one of the proudest moments in his life in this week's theatrical causerie

ONE of the most popular members of the "Gilberts" is Bernard Manning, and deservedly so, for, more perhaps than any, he has the great traditions of the Savoy operas instilled in his blood. Is he not the senior member of the company? (It is interesting to recall that he played "Luiz" on the occasion of Winifred Lawson's debut, and was "The Mikado" to Evelyn Gardiner's first "Katisha.") And did he not learn the "business" from the great D'Oyly Carte himself?

Perhaps the quality that earmarks him as so eminently satisfactory an interpreter of "G. and S." is, not so much his voice or acting ability, but his sense of burlesque. He plays his parts "straight," in dead sincerity, and never commits the now popular crime of laughing at himself.

"One must never burlesque a burlesque," he says, "or it becomes null and void—like two negatives."

Although he has played any amount of other roles, Gilbert and Sullivan is his fetish. "Each year I get to know the operas better—and I have been playing them since 1919—I find the melodies more melodious, and the wit more pointed.”

Of all his roles (and he has a repertoire of three to each opera) Manning loves "The Mikado" best, then Sir Roderick in "Ruddigore" and Dead Eye Dick. The latter appeals to him because of the great scope it gives him to indulge his talent for make-up.

"I think one of the proudest moments of my life," he says, "was when after a Command Performance, the Duke and Duchess of York came round to my dressing-room, and said: "We simply can't leave until you show us how you fix your eye." It isn't often in life that one has an opportunity to give the King's son a lesson in make-up!"

Manning has had a complex career, in a way. The son of a farmer, he was born on a farm in Derbyshire, forming part of Lord Curzon's estate, and within the sound of the original Melbourne's church bells. He was educated at a Choir school, until, owing to delicacy, he was sent out to Queensland, where, after a couple of years, he was completely cured, and celebrated the fact by renouncing cattle and singing with Dr. Sampson, a famous organist.

"Then I went to London and, feeling I had a tenor voice of some value, went to Sir Landon Ronald for an audition. He staggered me by completely refusing to listen to me. ‘A tenor?' he laughed. ‘You've been misinformed. Try starting—vocally as well as literally—at the bottom of the ladder.’ So I did, and within three months carried off the Guildhall School of Music prize for BASSO singing!"

During the four years that followed here, he got away with half a dozen prizes, and two scholarships. "But being the son of very commonsense people," he says, "I wasn't taking any chances. I "double timed" my musical studies with medicine, and became a veterinary surgeon." 

Bodyline Bowling Decided His Career

GODFREY STIRLING started off life as an instructor of gymnastics. As a sport, however, he had many strings to his bow, and distinguished himself at football, cricket, swimming, boxing and fencing, playing with the famous Kentish Band of Brothers, and touring for the M.C.C.

"And," he adds, "getting my leg smashed at Soccer: and—I'm very proud of this—receiving a ball full pitch from Howell fair and square in the mouth. It splintered my jaw, but it decided my career for me . . ."

"How?"

"My dear man, I let out such a bellow that people rushed for miles.

"With timbre like that," one of the chaps said, "you ought to sing in opera." Well, that wasn't a bad idea, so after studying in London, Vienna and Beyreuth, I did. Became the principal lyric tenor at the Old Vic., replacing Heddle Nash: then a season of Russian opera, and, finally, the Carl Rosa. I've never been in Gilbert and Sullivan before, or in anything light at all: and it's great fun."

But if you want to hear him at his absolute best, I suggest that you sit in the middle of the front row and practise your body-line bowling!

Table Talk (Melbourne), Thursday, 22 August 1935, p.18 – https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/149554838

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Additional picture sources:

Her Majesty's Theatre, Melbourne archive - courtesy of Mary Murphy

The Gilbert & Sullivan Archive

JCW G&S programme collection - National Library of Australia, Canberra

British Newspaper Archive

Rob Morrison collection

Sydney—mainly about people

EVENTUALLY we left Melbourne for Sydney with its more Americanized atmosphere. Many places in Australia, districts, streets and flats are called after places in England. My first address in Sydney was 'Hampton Court, King's Cross.' My brother said he was afraid of getting mixed up and writing to me at 'Buckingham Palace, Euston.' I moved afterwards to the Garden Club, where I had a room overlooking the wonderful Sydney Harbour.

Members of the JCW G&S Opera Co. arrive at Sydney Central Station from the Melbourne express, including Winifred Lawson(centre), Helen Langton (left), Eileen Kelly (right - in spotted dress), next to Gregory Stroud, with Godfrey Stirling(at the far right). (photo by Sam Hood, Mitchell Library, Sydney)

At first I didn't care for Sydney as much as Melbourne. For one thing the weather was now very hot and the damp heat very trying. One day we had lunched in the pleasant coolness of an air-conditioned restaurant in town. As I opened the door to come out into the street, the hot air rose from the pavement like a blast from an oven in which the Sunday joint is cooking.

Andrew MacCunn was to conduct the orchestra during our Sydney season, and that of course meant extra rehearsals. But whenever we could escape, we rushed off to one of the many beaches in the harbour and lay basking on the sand among the throngs of bronzed Australians, or plunged into the sea.

The G&S company in rehearsal with Godfrey Stirling and Gregory Stroud at front stage - "We're called gondolieri" (photo by Sam Hood, Mitchell Library, Sydney)

One wonders when the men do their work, for at hours of the day you saw hundreds of them, obviously habitues of the beaches, their bodies tanned dark brown by the sun, lying about the sand, or riding the great breakers on a surf board or boat. Perhaps they burnt the midnight oil to make up for it.

WALKABOUT, 1 November 1935, p.22

But one couldn't just bathe anywhere, as in England, because of the sharks. On all the main beaches there was a 'shark patrol,' a team of men trained in life-saving, whose job it was to keep a look-out. Generally an aeroplane would patrol the beaches, and if they saw a shark they would drop streamers, or make some kind of prearranged signal, whereupon the man on duty on the beach would ring a bell, and all the bathers would dash hurriedly ashore.

Carnivals were held during the summer, when teams from all the different beaches—Palm Beach, Bondi, Manley, etc.—would parade in their distinctive bathing costumes, and compete in life-saving contests and surf-boat riding: a really magnificent spectacle.

It was strange to spend Christmas in the height of the Australian summer. The heat became more and more exhausting, especially on days when there was a high humidity, and the hotter it grew, the more rehearsals Minnie Everett arranged. As we played one opera we rehearsed the next, and at Christmas time there were extra matinees. Never shall I forget playing Ida with the temperature somewhere in the hundreds—wearing chain armour and a heavy cloak of thick white fur.

But after all the operas in the repertoire had been gone through for the Sydney season, we had a little more free time and were able to enjoy the many pleasures Sydney had to offer.

We all went to the Zoo one day, to have some un-conventional photos taken for the papers. They had arranged all sorts of stunts for us to do. Eve Gardiner lay on the ground while the elephant walked over her without touching her recumbent and somewhat flinching form. I was photographed sitting on the elephant's bent knee with his trunk wound round my waist. Richard Watson sparred with the kangaroo, who boxed like a man. And Gregory Stroud sat astride the elephant's trunk while he hoisted him up into the air. That looked to me the best fun of all. 'Oh! I'd like to try that,' I said, 'but not for a photo.' 'Well you'd better sit side-saddle,' said the attendant. But I was afraid I'd fall off, so I too sat astride; and in spite of my protests, click went the cameras as the elephant wafted me aloft.

Funnily enough, I never saw a rabbit all the time I was in Australia, though had we been able to get away from the towns on to a sheep or cattle station I've no doubt we should have seen plenty, as in the country they are a serious pest.

Nor did I ever see a kangaroo, except in the Zoo, though I saw many of the smaller varieties, the wallabies. But it was a real thrill to see brilliantly-coloured parrots in their natural surroundings, and to hear the Kookaburra laughing away like a human being in the trees.

Gregory Stroud, always very public-spirited, used to collect sixpence a week from every member of the company. When he had the requisite amount of money he organized a day's outing for the whole company. He chartered a launch to take us up the Hawkesbury River and we bathed and played cricket and had lunch on board and sailed up the river through the most glorious scenery imaginable.

The Hawkesbury River is famous for its oysters, which are very delicious as well as being very cheap. At the time we were out there you could have a plate of a dozen oysters for 1s. 6d., with coffee and brown bread and butter included. Looking back now it seems incredible.

Richard Watson had a great partiality for oysters, and one day ordered a dozen to be sent to his dressing-room during the interval of The Mikado. Unlike most people, he liked salt with them which of course was not provided. Looking round the room, which he shared with a fellow artiste who shall be nameless [Shh! – Bernard Manning], he saw what he took to be a salt-cellar on the dressing-table. He sprinkled some on his oyster but it didn't seem to add to the flavour, so he gave the next one a double dose, which again had no effect. Then he examined the salt-cellar more closely and found to his dismay that it was a sort of powdered cement used for keeping false teeth in position!

This reminds me of an incident that happened one night when I was playing Princess Ida. King Hildebrand, very warlike in full armour, has come with an army to rescue his son Prince Hilarion from his dungeon cell. The Princess, backed by her Amazons, defies him. I had just snapped my fingers in his face as he stood on the footlights, and as I turned to sing to the girls, 'Deny them! We will defy them!' I saw that the whole chorus was convulsed with laughter. Fortunately for my own composure I hadn't seen what had upset them. But it appeared that Hildebrand, as I snapped my fingers in his face, had growled at me so fiercely through his beard that he blew his false teeth out. They just missed me as I turned to the girls, he caught them in mid-air, turned his back on the audience and put them in again before anyone except perhaps those in the front row of the stalls had realized what had happened.

Winifred Lawson as 'Princess Ida'

Winifred Lawson in 1922 

Australian hospitality is famous the world over, and the people of Sydney certainly did their best to see that we fully appreciated their beautiful city.

The worst of travelling is that one meets so many people and makes so many friends, from whom one is for ever after cut off by vast distances. How often have I longed to be able to pop over to Australia for the weekend, just to have a chat with the people who for a year or so were a part of my everyday life! One does one's best to keep in touch by letters, but these are a poor substitute for the actual contact. There are exceptions, of course.

There were Commander (now Rear-Admiral) Brownfield ('Brownie' inevitably), and his wife Sylvia, whom I first met in Sydney. Being naval folk I ran into them later at various times in all sorts of unexpected places. In Alexandria, for instance, I spent a weekend with them during a war-time ENSA concert tour.

I am reminded of a cocktail party to which I was invited some years later—after the war—when Brownie was Captain of the Naval College at Greenwich.

It was a large party of a hundred or so guests, none of whom I'd previously met. But Brownie and Sylvia, being the world's best hosts, saw to it that I was introduced to all the people with whom I'd have the most in common. I was enjoying myself very much, when I realized my nose was probably in need of a little powder. I searched in my hand-bag for my compact, and as I took it out something fluttered to the carpet. A naval officer retrieved it, and with courtly grace and a smiling, 'I think you've dropped something,' handed me—a piece of toilet paper!

What fun it can sometimes be to be 'not so young.' In my teens, this would have caused me the most acute embarrassment. I should have blushed and stammered and been generally covered in confusion. As it was the incident and my explanation caused such laughter, I was the success of the party, and was invited to stay on to dinner, after the rest of the guests had departed.

But to return to Australia and pre-war days.

One day when they were giving an opera in which I didn't appear, I was engaged to do a broadcast from a radio station in the Blue Mountains. It was getting dark as I motored there, so I missed seeing the panorama from the mountain road. And by the time I came back to my hotel from the studio it was quite dark. So there was nothing to prepare me for the magnificent sight that met my eyes when I drew the curtain and looked out of my window next morning.

I positively gasped. The hotel was built on the top of a ridge of mountains. (From my window it seemed to be on the edge of a steep precipice) with a deep valley below. And beyond the valley stretched range after range of tree-covered mountains. One has heard the expression 'blue distance' and often seen it—but never have I seen such colour as this. Their name, 'Blue Mountains,' couldn't have been more appropriate.

Travel poster designed by James Northfield - 1930s

While we were in Sydney, news came of the serious illness of King George V, and the people's anxiety was evident. When his death was announced all the shops and public buildings were draped in purple and everywhere flags were flown at half-mast. Almost the whole population appeared in mourning or wearing black arm-bands. The loyalty of the Australians was such that even if it had not been decided to close the theatre, there was not one member of the company who would willingly have played that night.

In time our three months' stay in Sydney came to an end and we left for Newcastle. And again we changed our conductor. This time is was Leo Packer who was to come with us on our tour of New Zealand. Leo was a delightful person, young and with a dry sense of humour. He was of Russian extraction, and very dark, with a large generous mouth, and thick black eyebrows. When Eve Gardiner was first introduced to him, she said in her abrupt manner, 'How do you do? Are you half Turkish?' This tickled Leo, and after that, if he had occasion to write me a note about rehearsals or anything, he used to sign himself 'Ahyoo Arfaturk.'

We stayed at the big railway hotel in Newcastle, amid the smoke and noise of the trains. I could never understand why the hotel had not been built only five minutes' walk farther away and overlooking the magnificent beach with its great waves and white sand. But nobody seemed to bother about the beach, which was built around with little factories and huts and shacks. I suppose it is a case of 'What is one beach among so many?'

While watching these huge breakers one day we saw a great man-eating shark. It came in on a wave, and for a brief moment before the wave broke you could distinctly see the dark sinister shape of the shark through the transucent green water, outlined against the sky.

 (To be continued...)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

First published in A Song to Sing-O! by Winifred Lawson [Michael Joseph: London, 1955], pp. 145 - 151

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Endnotes

compiled by Rob Morrison

 Proscenium of the Theatre Royal, Sydney - remodelled in 1921

The Sydney G&S season at the Theatre Royal commenced with The Gondoliers on the evening of Saturday, 5 October 1935, while all subsequent operas received their first performance of the season at the 2 p.m. Saturday matinees, followed by a “Gala” performance in the evening at 8 p.m. The Gondoliers was succeeded by The Pirates of Penzance and Trial by Jury (26 October to 8 November); The Yeomen of the Guard (9 to 22 November); H.M.S. Pinafore and Cox and Box (23 November to 6 December); Iolanthe (7 to 20 December); The Mikado (21 December to 24 January); Princess Ida making its first appearance on the tour (11 to 17 January); Patience (18 to 24 January); and Ruddigore also made its first appearance on the tour on Saturday, 25 January until Friday, 31 January 1936.

Additional holiday season matinees were given of The Mikado on Thursday, 26 December (Boxing Day); Saturday, 28 December; Wednesday, 1 January and Saturday, 4 January; Pirates on Friday, 27 December; Yeomen on Thursday, 2 January; and Iolanthe on Friday, 3 January 1936 at the reduced prices of 5/-, 3/- and 2/- (= $29.32, $17.59 and $11.73 in today’s currency), with Children half-price. Regular prices for the season were 6/6, 4/- and 2/- for matinees (= $38.11, $23.45 and $11.73); 7/-, 4/6 and 2/6 for week nights (= $41.04, $26.38 and $14.66); and 8/-, 5/- and 3/- for Saturday nights (= $46.90, $29.32 and $17.59), plus tax..

The season concluded with revivals of The Gondoliers on Saturday, 1 February (Matinee and Evening); Pirates on Monday, 3 February; Iolanthe on Tuesday. 4 February; Yeomen on Wednesday, 5 February (Matinee and Evening); and Mikado on Thursday, 6 February 1936 for a total run of 18 weeks.

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Productions Reviewed

• The Gondoliers (Saturday, 5th October at 8 p.m.)

Tap hereto view the cast list for the Sydney season.

Evelyn Gardiner as the 'Duchess of Plaza-Toro'

"THE GONDOLIERS."

POPULAR REVIVAL.

In Australia, as in England, the Gilbert and Sullivan operas have become an institution. It is certain that a large proportion of Saturday night's audience at the Theatre Royal knew every bar of "The Gondoliers" in advance. In these days of mechanically reproduced music there can be hardly a person in the community who has not at least a bowing acquaintance with the score, even though he may never have seen the opera on the stage. As for things like "Take a Pair of Sparkling Eyes," they are inescapable.

When operas like these come back season after season, comparisons between one production and another cannot be avoided. In fact, the genuine Gilbert and Sullivan enthusiast thrives on such discussions of relative merit. And so—to come to the point without more ado—it must be set down that the present company, at a general estimate, falls somewhat below the standard of those in earlier years. Even staunch favourites like Miss Evelyn Gardiner and Mr. Gregory Stroud, seemed to have grown a little tired of their parts, and sometimes delivered in routine manner the humorous points that must display zest and sparkle for complete success. The temptation to become off-hand and over-comfortable after years in Gilbert and Sullivan must be very great. Its results were most apparent on Saturday in the first act. The second went with a more convincing swing.

Among the newcomers, the most significant was Miss Winifred Lawson, who appeared as Casilda. Her voice, while not remarkable, was definitely pleasant in quality, and it was obvious that, unlike one or two of her fellow actors, she had had a serious and thorough training in the business of the stage. Her gestures were eloquent and admirably schooled, and she moved with consistent grace, especially in the lovely court dress of act two.

The two contadine, Gianetta and Tessa, were played by Australians, Miss Helen Langton and Miss Eileen Kelly. The former, in particular, showed promise of being a notable acquisition to the Gilbert and Sullivan ranks. Her voice was clear and true; her appearance attractively vivacious.

The Grand Inquisitor was Mr. Richard Watson, a South Australian, who has been singing in England for some years. Vocally, he was equal to the role, but in this case character-portrayal is even more important than voice. In the latter respect he succeeded up to a point. Perhaps it is unfair to him to remember a certain late lamented exponent of the Inquisitor, who made that functionary more interesting. But, in dealing with Gilbert and Sullivan, these comparisons insist on emerging.

The Marco was Mr. Godfrey Stirling. His greatest success was in "Take a Pair of Sparkling Eyes." Otherwise, he participated with acceptable liveliness in such concerted numbers as "In a Contemplative Fashion," though his stage deportment lacked polish. This quartet proved highly popular with the audience. So did the Gavotte, "I Am a Courtier Grave and Serious," which was many times encored. At each repetition Mr. Ivan Menzies, as the Duke of Plaza-Toro, added a few more complicated skips and hops about the stage, until at the last he was running into the wings and emerging again, with a Nijinski-like leap in the background. Mr. Menzies' representation of the Duke seemed somewhat detached in manner, but the bits of business he has thought out and woven into the part are so utterly farcical in themselves that they always rouse a response. Mr. John Fraser appeared as Luiz.

The singing of the chorus was an excellent feature of the production. If Miss Minnie Everett, the producer, could only get to work and make the singers look as though they believed a little more ardently in the sentiments they utter, the effect of the opera would be much enhanced. Mr. Andrew MacCunn directed the musical side of "The Gondoliers," with an orchestra of 25 players.

The Sydney Morning Herald, Monday, 7 October 1935 , p. 2 – http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article17207245

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

• The Pirates of Penzance & Trial by Jury (Saturday, 26th October at 2 p.m.)

Tap here to view the cast list for the Sydney season.

A rocky sea-shore on the coast of Cornwall with a group of pirates headed by Bernard Manning - "I am a Pirate King" (photo by Sam Hood, Mitchell Library, Sydney)

THEATRE ROYAL

"PIRATES OF PENZANCE."

AN EXCELLENT PRODUCTION.

“The Pirates of Penzance" was produced with a great deal of spirit on Saturday night at the Theatre Royal. The performance was so lively and enjoyable, in fact, that one could scarcely believe this to be the same company which had wandered listlessly through the first night of "The Gondoliers". Not only the actors on the stage, but the orchestra, too, under the baton of Mr. Andrew MacCunn, rose to the occasion surprisingly. This is the best piece of conducting that Mr. MacCunn has done for some time. It had clear definition, good accent, and a contagious zest.

The performance had a special point of interest because it brought forward a young Western Australian singer, Miss Helen Langton, who is on the way to becoming an admirable soprano for light opera. She had appeared as Gianetta in "The Gondoliers" and had won favourable notice, but, except for the famous "Take a Pair of Sparkling Eyes," "The Gondoliers" does not give anyone such sustained opportunities as "The Pirates." "Poor Wandering One" is, of course, the song with which Mabel makes her spectacular entrance, and in this Miss Langton at once caught the fancy of the audience. There were two encores: and there might have been more, had not Mr. MacCunn proceeded determinedly with the next business of the play. Miss Langton has a voice of rich, warm quality, and she used it fluently, particularly in the difficult staccato ornaments to the melody. What is more, her appearance and manner are both attractive. In the duet with Frederic in the second act she won another success, though here the unrelieved mezza-voce singing became a shade monotonous.

The work of the chorus was excellent throughout. The producer, Miss Minnie Everett, had obviously worked hard to embellish the acting of the pirates, of the policemen and of General Stanley's multitudinous daughters with a wealth of picturesque detail. Nothing was overstressed, to distract the eye by too ample a movement, yet the behaviour of each individual was completely convincing. Even the make-up of the pirates was far more skilful than is usual with an Australian male chorus.

Musically, the ensembles were remarkably fine. "Hail Poetry!” in which Gilbert and Sullivan lapse, for once, into a really serious choral number had a brilliant resonance and a keen balance of tone which made it memorable. The audience responded with thunders of applause. One encore was essential and more could have been given had not Mr. MacCunn once again, wisely decided to press on. Too many encores are always unwise. In the long run, they spin out a play, and make it tiresome.

The Frederic was Mr. Godfrey Stirling. Vocally, he was consistently equal to the occasion. "Oh, Is There Not One Maiden Breast?” and the duets with Mabel brought forth a tenor quality unforced, radiant and charming. But Mr. Stirling is, as yet, no actor. Even a little attention to make-up (of which he wore hardly any) would improve matters. Mr. Bernard Manning appearing for the first time during the present season, provided a rousing and full-flavoured impersonation of the Pirate King. In voice, too, he was well equipped. "Oh, Better Far to Live and Die," in the first act, was a sterling achievement. So was Mr. Clifford Cowley's character study as the pirate lieutenant Samuel—a fearsome creature but with traces of odd geniality expressing themselves occasionally through expanses of exposed and variegated teeth. Ruth was played by Miss Evelyn Gardiner, and played with highly acceptable vividness

Mr. Ivan Menzies proved to be at his best as that lonely orphan boy, Major-General Stanley. He filled out the part with a multitude of clever touches neither over-emphasising nor under-emphasising—faults into both of which he falls at different times—but preserving just the right balance for the greatest possible pungency of comic effect. Mr. Richard Watson led the troop of redoubtable London [sic] policemen with many clever strokes of the grotesque. He developed gifts of comedy which had remained unsuspected in "The Gondoliers". Miss Eileen Kelly, Miss Phyllis Dickinson, and Miss Nina Robbins were all graceful and humorous in the parts of Edith, Kate, and Isabel.

"The Pirates of Penzance" was preceded by that delicious satire on law courts and on grand opera, "Trial By Jury. " The whole thing went with a swing, and there were many splendid pieces of comic acting—among them, Miss Eileen Kelly's impersonation of the breach of promise plaintiff; that of Mr. Tommy Jay as the usher; and that of Mr. Richard Watson as the learned Judge. Others who appeared included Mr. Lennox Brewer (the defendant), Mr. Gregory Stroud (counsel for the plaintiff); Mr. Mick Brien (foreman of the jury), and Mr. Don Burnett (the associate).

The Sydney Morning Herald, Monday, 28 October 1935, p. 6 – http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article17220992

[For London policemen to be on patrol in Penzance in the county of Cornwall on the British south coast would be well outside their regular beat!]

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

• The Yeomen of the Guard (Saturday, 9th November at 2 p.m.)

Tap here to view the cast list for the Sydney season.

Jack Point (Ivan Menzies) attempts to amuse the Lieutenant of the Tower (Gregory Stroud) - "I've jibe and joke" (photo by Sam Hood, Mitchell Library, Sydney)

THEATRE ROYAL

"The Yeomen of the Guard."

Taken at a general view, it cannot be said that Saturday night’s production of "The Yeomen of the Guard" at the Theatre Royal equalled that of "The Pirates of Penzance," which had come before it. Yet there was much to enjoy; and certain aspects were particularly well presented. At any rate, the audience worked itself up into a great state of enthusiasm; and, by the second act, was encoring everything in sight—though it must be remarked that the actors needed little provocation to bring them back to the stage. The great number of repetitions ended by making this last act drag. If Gilbert and Sullivan had thought so many extra verses desirable they would probably have added to the existing text of the play.

Still, for the authentic Gilbert and Sullivan enthusiast, there cannot possibly be too much of a good thing. "The Yeomen" has won itself a specially favoured place in public esteem because its music is more serious and more solid than that of any other opera in the series. Such gems as "When Our Gallant Norman Foes," "I Have a Song to Sing O," and "Were I Thy Bride" bid fair to become immortal. The singing on Saturday night was of a variable order, but more often good than otherwise.

A specially favourable impression was made by Mr. Godfrey Stirling, as the unlucky Colonel Fairfax. Hitherto during the season, Mr. Stirling has seemed a rather gauche and unconvincing actor. But this time—principally because he avoided unnecessary movement—he managed to keep the character quietly poised, yet intensely alive. The dialogue leading up to "Is Life a Boon?" was spoken with a reserve and dignity which greatly enhanced the effect of the song when it came. Vocally, Mr. Stirling was always exceedingly pleasant.

The Jack Point was Mr. Ivan Menzies. If memory serves its purpose faithfully, Mr. Menzies's characterisation is not so significant or so moving as when he last played it in Sydney. Somehow or other, it seems to have lost in sincerity and to be more preoccupied with surface details, such as the quaint attitudes of the Merryman’ s legs. The distress of poor Jack Point at his final entry, when he seems to have become completely crazed, is too exaggerated to be poignant. Still, Mr. Menzies was by no means negligible either as an actor or as a singer, and the part had many passages which were irresistibly amusing. The Elsie Maynard was Miss Winifred Lawson. Though vocally uneven, Miss Lawson portrayed the strolling player with agreeable spirit.

Mr. Richard Watson essayed the role of that dourly whimsical fellow, Wilfred Shadbolt, and made a great success of it. His appearance was calculated to strike alarm into the most intrepid prisoner; and with this fierce background as a foil Wilfred's jokes shone forth with unexampled grimness. Still, it always seems a mistake to make Wilfred too repulsive; for pretty Phoebe Meryll shows signs of marrying him in the end. Phoebe was played on Saturday by Miss Eileen Kelly. At first, Miss Kelly's acting was stilted, but it improved as the play went on, and as one looks back, her performance as a whole is pleasantly remembered. Miss Helen Langton, the other young Australian girl in the company, had only a small part as Kate, but she made it stand out with excellent effect through the delightful clearness and expressiveness of her singing.

Mr. Gregory Stroud gave forceful incisive outline to the role of Lieutenant of the Tower; Mr. Bernard Manning sang well as Sergeant Meryll; and Miss Evelyn Gardiner made a declamatory Dame Carruthers. Mr. Lennox Brewer, appearing as Leonard Meryll, has a promising tenor voice but he still has everything to learn about stage deportment. Mr. Andrew MacCunn directed the orchestra; and Miss Minnie Everett had produced. The two scenic backgrounds proved specially attractive and convincing.

The Sydney Morning Herald, Monday, 11 November 1935, p.6 – http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article17222159

Godfrey Stirling as 'Colonel Fairfax'

Winifred Lawson as 'Elsie Maynard'

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

• H.M.S. Pinafore & Cox and Box (Saturday, 23 November at 2 p.m.)

Tap here to view the cast list for the Sydney season.

Bernard Manning as 'Dick Deadeye'

Richard Watson as 'Bob Becket'

"H.M.S. PINAFORE."

Helen Langton as Josephine.

Sir Joseph Porter, together with his numerous sisters, cousins, and aunts; the villainous Dick Deadeye; Captain Corcoran, who addressed his seamen with such marked respect; the love-lorn Ralph Rackstraw; the equally disconsolate Josephine; that round, red creature, dear little Buttercup—all these and more were gathered on the stage of the Theatre Royal on Saturday night. In brief, the play was "HMS. Pinafore". Strangely enough, for the first time during the present season, some empty seats were to be seen in the auditorium. "Pinafore" does not, like "The Pirates of Penzance" and "The Mikado," delight the eye with pretty costumes. Hebe and her gang of sisters, cousins, and aunts appear in severe cream yachting outfit; and the uniform of a British tar is not calculated to cater for a love of the picturesque. Yet "Pinafore" contains splendid humour, and a great deal of delightful music. There seems to be no reason why this opera should decline in public esteem while its fellows in the series go marching on from triumph to triumph.

Saturday night's performance was the means of Miss Helen Langton winning another substantial success. This young Australian singer has an unusually clear, fluent, and sympathetic voice; her appearance is attractive; and she is obviously applying herself diligently to the cultivation of an acceptable style of acting. As Josephine, "Sorry Her Lot Who Loves Too Well" was her principal test-piece; and the audience delivered its verdict by applauding with might and main. In the trio, "Never Mind the Why or Wherefore," Josephine fluttered to and fro with engaging delicacy and lightness, adding the poetry of motion to the stimulating charm of song.

The Ralph Rackstraw of this season is Mr. Godfrey Stirling. He took the part quietly, and thus emphasised the lyrical feeling in much of Ralph's music. "The Nightingale," with which Ralph makes his entrance, singing plaintively of his passion for the lady so far above him in station, introduced some pianissimo singing of an exceedingly pleasant sort. In the duet, "Refrain, Audacious Tar," both Ralph and Josephine entered fully into the spirit of the scene.

Mr. Ivan Menzies's portrait of Sir Joseph was unfailingly amusing as a piece of grotesque character-study. In the scene where the First Lord hands the Boatswain's Mate a copy of the trio, "A British Tar is a Soaring Soul," he spent several minutes in wordless pantomime, engrossed in the difficulties of handling three sheets of music and a piece of red ribbon at the same time. Towards the end of the second act, he gave free rein to all sorts of bright irrelevant foolery.

As Dick Deadeye, Mr. Bernard Manning achieved a masterpiece of make-up. The twisted hand of this poor creature, his seamed and peculiar face, kept him well in the notice of the audience as a caricature, apart from Mr. Manning's excellent acting. Mr. Gregory Stroud was brisk and business-like as Captain Corcoran. He registered clearly the adverse effects on Corcoran's morale brought about by Sir Joseph's absurd strictures, and sang efficiently the music allotted to him. Miss Evelyn Gardiner was jovial and suitably buxom as Buttercup; Mr. Richard Watson as the Boatswain's Mate and Mr. Clifford Cowley as the Carpenter's Mate both provided many humorous moments; Miss Eileen Kelly made a bright Hebe, and Miss Joyce Mundy was the Midshipmite.

"HMS Pinafore" was preceded by "Cox and Box." In this amusing little extravaganza. Mr. Clifford Cowley had a specially marked success as Cox, the journeyman hatter. The other two actors, Mr. Lennox Brewer (Box) and Mr. Richard Watson (Sergeant Bouncer), both behaved with much gaiety, and the touches of parody—especially the grand operatic leanings of the music—were well dealt with.

The Sydney Morning Herald, Monday 25 November 1935, p.6 - http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article17218256

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

• Iolanthe (Saturday, 7th December 1935 at 2 p.m.)

Tap here to view the cast list for the Sydney season.

The Lord Chancellor (Ivan Menzies) joins the Peers - "The law is the true embodiment" (photo by Sam Hood, Mitchell Library, Sydney)

"IOLANTHE."

Enthusiastic Audience.

A large audience assembled at the Theatre Royal on Saturday night to greet the revival of "Iolanthe". The popularity of this particular Gilbert and Sullivan achievement was evident in the thunders of applause which welcomed each favourite number. In fact, as the evening went on one realised that every number was a favourite; practically none of the music was allowed to pass without an encore.

After an absence of two weeks, Miss Winifred Lawson returned to the company to play the role of Phyllis. She gave it a good deal of graciousness and charm. More than anyone else in this season's cast she has developed the finesse of stage movement, eloquent yet delicate, natural yet restrained in style. She added to this visible grace a pleasant voice, and thus made the total effect a striking one.

Mr. Gregory Stroud was the Strephon, also good to look upon in his Arcadian silks and satins. The Iolanthe was Miss Eileen Kelly. She sang the part with clearness and good judgment, and made a fine impression in the last scene, where Sullivan has clothed Iolanthe’s plea for Strephon's happiness in some music of serious operatic calibre.

Mr. Ivan Menzies was in great form as Lord Chancellor. Over the fundamental theme of the old man's fidgety dignity and pomp the comedian wove countless variations of foolery, all of them pleasantly adroit. For instance, in the trio, "He Who Shies at Such a Prize," the Chancellor was continually forgetting his exalted rank and performing merry dance steps, until the severe gaze of Earl Tolloller and Earl Mountararat brought him sharply to his senses. Mr. Godfrey Stirling bestowed on Tolloller, together with an arrogant monocle, an air of general superiority and frigidity which made this personage unfailingly amusing. As Mountararat, Mr. Bernard Manning scored a great success with "When Britain Really Ruled the Waves." There was a double encore for this.

Mr. Richard Watson gave an appropriate mellow humour to the part of Private Willis, the sentry, who has to open the second act with "When All Night Long a Chap Remains." Willis's glee and astonishment when his fairy wings grew were something to be genially remembered. Miss Evelyn Gardiner proved a redoubtable and dictatorial Fairy Queen. Her diction is always exceptionally clear and she conveyed the wit of her lines to the audience with great success. Miss Phyllis Dickinson, Miss Nina Robbins and Miss Carmen Burridge were Leila, Celia, and Fleta, the three fairies who lead the dogged "tripping hither, tripping thither" of their innumerable sisters.

The singing of the chorus was a specially enjoyable feature of the performance, as at earlier operas in the season. Under Mr. Andrew MacCunn's direction, the orchestra gave flexible and well-balanced support to the action on the stage. Miss Minnie Everett was the producer.

The Sydney Morning Herald, Monday 9 December 1935, p. 6 - http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article17234071

Winifred Lawson as 'Phyllis'

Evelyn Gardiner as the 'Queen of the Fairies'

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

• The Mikado (Saturday, 21st December at 2 p.m.)

Tap here to view the cast list for the Sydney season.

Pish-Tush (Gregory Stroud), Ko-Ko (Ivan Menzies) and Pooh-Bah (Richard Watson) contemplate the candidate for a beheading to fulfil the Mikado's edict - "I am so proud" (photo by Sam Hood, Mitchell Library, Sydney)

"THE MIKADO."

An Excellent Production.

The town of Titipu hung out its temple bells on Saturday night; burst into a simultaneous bloom of cherry trees and chrysanthemums, and displayed its quaint civic customs, all to the immense satisfaction of a large audience. "The Mikado" has always been a favourite among the Gilbert and Sullivan series. Presented with a nice taste in kimonos and lacquer, it makes a strong appeal to the eye, as well as to the ear, and the music itself is among the brightest that Arthur Sullivan's facile pen ever committed to ruled paper. At any rate, Saturday’s audience at the Theatre Royal was kept in a constant turmoil of approval. The atmosphere remained more exactly that of a gala performance than has been the case earlier in the season.

As producer, Miss Minnie Everett brought to life her imaginings about the venerable city of Titipu in a way that must captivate both young and old—both the adolescents, who are seeing Ko-Ko and Pooh-Bah for the first time, and the greyheads, who proudly recount that they saw Howard Vernon and W. H. Woodfield as these dignitaries in 1885. When "The Mikado" was newly written, it reflected in comic exaggeration, the life of an authentically existing Japan. Now that the Oriental islands have awakened from their reveries about cherry tree festivals and the tea ceremony, and become active participants in the age of steel and chromium, the play begins to add the melancholy glory of an historical document to its more immediate and visible elements of comedy.

But there was no time on Saturday night for such meditative overtones to intrude themselves. Laughter held the stage from beginning to end. Whether it was the Christmas spirit, or whether "The Mikado" makes a particular appeal to actors as well as to audience, the whole cast seemed to be at the top of its form, and determined to raise the jollity of the proceedings to the third or fourth power. Even in "The Gondoliers," where he reached a certain pitch of extravagance, Mr. Ivan Menzies (the Ko-Ko) had never worked so hard for laughs, nor succeeded in getting them in such grateful volleys. Even his curious little fluttering run across the stage was a triumph of the grotesque, especially when it followed hard on the heels of Mr. Richard Watson's truculently striding Pooh-Bah. One great joy which these two comedians unfailingly provide is an impeccably clear-cut diction. The spectator does not have to spend a conscious effort in listening. Their talk comes rushing out across the footlights to capture him irresistibly by storm. This is the greatest lesson which dramatic visitors from overseas have to impart to Sydney enthusiasts who have some practical association with the theatre.

The Three Little Maids from School were represented with a splendidly picturesque and resourceful eye to decorative grouping, by Misses Winifred Lawson, Eileen Kelly, and Phyllis Dickinson. There were occasions when Miss Lawson's singing of Yum-Yum became a trifle uneven, but her acting possessed such wit and polish and sense of style that the whole characterisation reached a genuinely distinguished level. Mr. Gregory Stroud emphasised the attractive conventionalised attitudes of the fan ceremonial in working out his portrait of Pish-Tush. Mr. Bernard Manning and Miss Evelyn Gardiner gave splendid performances as the Mikado and Katisha.

It was a great night for Mr. Andrew MacCunn. One need not emphasise, at this stage in the season, his admirable training of the chorus. On Saturday, he worked up the orchestra, as well to a singular liveliness and incisiveness of effect.

The Sydney Morning Herald, Monday 23 December 1935, p.3 - http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article17225842

[In fact, Minnie Everett was responsible for the training of the chorus, as the reviewer had apparently overlooked the fact that the company had commenced its 1935 tour of the G&S operas in Adelaide and Melbourne.]

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

• Princess Ida (Saturday, 11 January 1936 at 2 p.m.)

Tap here to view the cast list for the Sydney season.

King Gama (Ivan Menzies) enquires of Florian (Gregory Stroud) whether his king is a fool, while King Hildebrand (Richard Watson) looks on (photo by Sam Hood, Mitchell Library, Sydney)

 "PRINCESS IDA."

A Parody on Feminism.

If the plot of "Princess Ida" has dated to a greater extent than those of other Gilbert and Sullivan operas, the music preserves its old, potent charm. The two soprano songs allotted to the Princess are gems of melody; and the trio for Hilarion, Florian, and Cyril in the second act stands out as one of the jauntiest pieces that Sullivan ever wrote. All this was accepted with joy by Saturday night's audience at the Theatre Royal.

When "Princess Ida" first came to the stage, Tennyson had recently caused some stir by writing "The Princess," a poem which has long since passed down the dark avenues of history. "The Princess" was a Victorian essay in feminism; and it was this early urge towards woman's emancipation which Gilbert set out to parody. In these days, when women are town councillors and lawyers and doctors and analytical chemists, the parody, as well as "The Princess," has lost a good deal of its point. Still, underneath the placid outward surface of "equality," the battle of the sexes continues to rage vigorously in 1936. In many a suburban drawing-room, arguments can be heard concerning the relative intellectual abilities of woman and of man. Thus, although few people can take the general idea of "Princess Ida" seriously any more, some of the individual lines in the play still strike a response. That was obvious on Saturday night, when little ripples of laughter went floating happily round the auditorium.

Miss Winifred Lawson brought dignity and charm of bearing to the part of the Princess. The more one sees of Miss Lawson's work, the more conscious one becomes of her schooling in the great tradition of the D'Oyly Carte productions. Miss Evelyn Gardiner also made the most of every opportunity as Lady Blanche. Her facial expressions were admirable; and the booming, authoritative voice rolled itself richly round the ambitious Blanche's interminable philosophical platitudes. Miss Helen Langton and Miss Eileen Kelly were bright in manner as Lady Psyche and Melissa

The three young men who intrude into Castle Adamant wearing the academic robes of demure young female students were represented by Mr. Vincent McMurray (Hilarion), Mr. Godfrey Stirling (Cyril), and Mr. Gregory Stroud (Florian). Their grotesque antics when they donned the unaccustomed robes were exaggerated a little beyond what the Victorian reserve of Gilbert and Sullivan seems to require; but they were clever, and acceptably animated. The audience, at any rate, seemed to enjoy them hugely. Mr. Richard Watson sang well as King Hildebrand; Mr. Ivan Menzies screwed a good deal of humour from the comparatively short role of Gama; and the three droll sons of Gama, clattering about in medieval harness, were represented by Messrs Bernard Manning, Frank Birmingham, and Chester Harris.

A specially laudable feature of the production was the work of the orchestra, under the baton of Mr. Andrew MacCunn. The instrumentalists succeeded more than once in distracting attention from some weak point in the singing.

The Sydney Morning Herald, Monday 13 January 1936, p.5 - http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article17216945

Richard Watson as 'King Hildebrand'

photo by Sam Hood, Mitchell Library, Sydney

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Discography:

 "Now hearken to my strict command''- Richard Watson & chorus (rec. 1932)

 "Minereva! Oh hear me"- Winifred Lawson (rec. 1924)

 "Audacious tyrant...Since you enquire''- Richard Wastson, Muriel Dickson & chorus (rec. 1932)

"I built upon a rock" - Winifred Lawson (rec. 1924)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

• Patience (Saturday, 18 January 1936 at 2 p.m.)

Tap here to view the cast list for the Sydney season.

Ivan Menzies as 'Reginald Bunthorne'

photo by Sam Hood, Mitchell Library, Sydney

Richard Watson as 'Colonel Calverley"

photo by Sam Hood, Mitchell Library, Sydney

 "PATIENCE."

A GENTLE PLAY.

Looking at "Patience" nowadays is like inhaling the fragrance of some old dried lavender that has tumbled out of a drawer. A vanished period and all its pleasant affectations suddenly flash before the mind's eye. Everything moves languidly and remotely. There is a dash of humour; but humour of the gentlest sort. Nothing could be more completely contrasted with the glitter, the outspokenness and the speed of musical plays in 1936, when "anything goes." Strange to think that in bygone days "Patience," by striking topically at the "aesthetic" movement, set the town alight!

Saturday night's production at the Theatre Royal emphasised the comedy's deliberate unhurried gait. The charming and oft repeated melodies allotted to the love-sick maidens maintained their appropriately swooning air until the end. Only once, before that final emergence in dashing mid-Victorian fashions, did the maidens desert their drawling state of trance. That was in the admirable finale to the first act, where Archibald Grosvenor wandered into the scene. With one accord, and with amusing access of animation, the maidens tore themselves from the arms of their dragoon lovers so that they might flock about the poet. The presentation of this finale was decidedly one of the most successful passages in Saturday's version of the play.

The part of Reginald Bunthorne was played by Mr. Ivan Menzies. He had made himself up excellently to represent a character from Murger's "Scenes de Ia Vie de Boheme" transplanted picturesquely into knee-breeches of velveteen. During the early part of the action, Mr. Menzies gave a splendid performance, polished to the utmost in every detail. But as time wore on, as though intoxicated by his own funniness, he began to exaggerate. It has been his chief fault throughout the season. All these squeakings and grimaclngs and roarings undoubtedly amused the audience—and Mr. Menzies sometimes acknowledged the laughter by twinkling at people in the front rows—but they were, undoubtedly a good deal removed from the gracious spirit of the authentic "Patience."

Much quieter, but none the less entertaining, was Mr. Gregory Stroud as Archibald Grosvenor. Mournful and hard-featured, this idyllic poet grotesquely belied his pretensions to facial perfection. Of the three dragoons who turn aesthetic in self-defence, the most amusing was Mr. Clifford Cowley, as Major Murgatroyd. The other two were Mr. Richard Watson and Mr. Vincent McMurray. Mr. Tommy Jay made the most of his fleeting appearance as Bunthorne's extraordinary solicitor.

On the feminine side of the cast, Miss Winifred Lawson looked charming as Patience, the egregiously innocent dairymaid. Miss Evelyn Gardiner exercised her declamatory voice to the delight of the audience in "Sad is That Woman's Lot," with its grotesque interludes on the violoncello. The extraordinary sweeping garments that she wore enhanced the "massive" quality which is emphasised in the text; and the acting maintained an effective comic level. The other three love-sick maidens with solos to sing were the Misses Helen Langton (Angela); Eileen Kelly (Saphir), and Phyllis Dickinson (Ella). Mr. Andrew MacCunn directed the orchestra with pleasant animation.

The Sydney Morning Herald, Monday 20 January 1936, p.6 - http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article17208572

[The Cole Porter musical Anything Goes had its Australian premiere at Sydney’s Theatre Royal at the conclusion of the G&S season on 8 Saturday, February 1936.]

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

• Ruddigore (Saturday, 25 January 1936 at 2 p.m.)

Tap here to view the cast list for the Sydney season.

Ivan Menzies as 'Robin Oakapple'

Richard Watson as 'Sir Despard Murgatroyd'

"RUDDIGORE."

A BRIGHT PRODUCTION.

Although it has never achieved quite the popularity of "The Mikado" or "The Pirates of Penzance," "Ruddigore" is one of Gilbert and Sullivan’s quaintest conceits. The music is fresh and gay, and sometimes very lovely indeed. The quips in the dialogue include some of the most famous sayings in this whole operatic series. The characters, within their sphere of parody, have been admirably drawn. All these features, coinciding as they did with a splendid production by Miss Minnie Everett, made "Ruddigore" on Saturday one of the most thoroughly agreeable first nights which the present season has provided. The Theatre Royal was by no means completely filled but this arose probably from the period of mourning for the King. The spectators who were present exerted themselves with a will, so that encores had to come thick and fast. There seemed in fact to be an atmosphere of particular cordiality.

A number of the actors excelled any of their efforts in the previous plays. Mr. Godfrey Stirling, for example, displayed an infectious geniality in the part of Richard Dauntless, the man-o’-war’s man. Dick’s frequent colloquies with his heart—an organ which makes bold to call Dick by his Christian name, and gives him excellent advice—had just the right touch of absurdity in them, and his hornpipe was a triumph of vivacity. The little ballet at this point, where the girls, in their demure, old-world costumes, suddenly break into the same hearty motions as Dick Dauntless, has a delicious grotesqueness which equals any of the self-conscious strivings after similar effect to be found in the high-speed musical comedies of the present day.

Miss Eileen Kelly appeared in quite a new guise as Mad Margaret, a sort of mock Ophelia, who comes bedecked with wheat sheaves and poppies, to sing broken snatches of song in the main street of Rederring, the little Cornish fishing village. The young actress had made herself up to perfection, and she succeeded in creating quite a virtuoso piece out of this curious passage in the play. She made an extremely clever effect, also, in the second act where Mad Margaret sings a duet with Sir Despard Murgatroyd, who has now become a mild nonconformist, complete with umbrella. The utterance of the name, "Basingstoke," as a signal that Margaret must control herself and calm down, was an admirable piece of comic business, as set forth by Mr. Richard Watson. Mr. Watson won great success also in his first-act solo, "Oh, Why Am I Moody and Sad?"

Miss Winified Lawson was extremely gracious, as usual, in the part of that extravagantly good and smug young woman, Rose Maybud. She sang her first song, "If Somebody There Chance to Be," in clear, fluent style, and gave much humour to the interview with Mad Margaret concerning the bold, bad baronet. Mr. Ivan Menzies wove his customary accomplished embroideries of fun round the role of Robin Oakapple. Not so exaggerated in style as Bunthorne in "Patience," this was a consistently entertaining performance. Miss Evelyn Gardiner was Dame Hannah; Mr. Bernard Manning, Sir Roderic Murgatroyd; Mr. Clifford Cowley, Adam Goodheart and Miss Phyllis Dickinson and Miss Nina Roberts the two principal bridesmaids.

Mr. Andrew MacCunn made the orchestral work a specially enjoyable feature of the evening’s proceedings. This Gilbert and Sullivan season with its large orchestra has allowed him to achieve some striking effects.

The Sydney Morning Herald, Monday 27 January 1936, p.3 - http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article17217921

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 Discography:

"Oh, why am I moody and sad?" - Richard Watson & chorus (rec. 1950)

"You understand? I think I do" - Richard Watson & Leonard Osborn (rec. 1950)

"I once was a very abandoned person"- Richard Watson & Ann Drummond-Grant (rec. 1950)

 "My eyes are fully open" - Richard Watson, Martyn Green & Ann Drummond-Grant (rec. 1950) 

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Additional Picture Sources

Digitised Theatre programme scans from the National Library of Australia, Canberra

Minnie Everett

On my return from South Africa I met with one of those disappointments which appear to be more or less inseparable from a theatrical career, at any rate in Australia. After I took over the production of the three musical comedies in South Africa, following the hurried return to London of George Slater, Harold Ashton told me that he had written to ‘The Firm’ in Australia telling them of my splendid work in preparing the whole repertoire, ballets and all, in six weeks. He assured me that my loyal service would be suitably recognised upon my return to Australia, and I took it for granted that it would be.

On my arrival in Melbourne, however, I was asked to accept 15 per cent. salary cut which the others had agreed to on account of the abnormal wartime conditions which prevailed. I am glad to say that the matter was satisfactorily adjusted.

After my return to Australia from South Africa I was soon busy getting ready the pantomime, and after the Melbourne season I travelled round with the company for a while, taking in the Sydney season, and then doing one or two other productions. It was that year, if I remember right, that The Girl in the Taxi, High Jinks, So Long Letty, and other musical comedies of the type were produced. Hugh J. Ward handled most of those productions, and I had nothing to do with them, but funny enough, it was High Jinks which first took me to London.

My First Visit to America

It was following the production of the 1915–16 pantomime that ‘The Firm’ decided to send me to America. I was in Sydney at the time, and the pantomime was being staged there as the Easter holiday attraction. The decision to send me to America came, so to speak, out of a clear sky, and before I knew where I was I was on board the Sonoma, bound for San Francisco.

I don't think I should ever have agreed to go by myself if I had realised what it meant. There can be no worse experience for a woman than to arrive all by herself in a strange country, and have to attend to all the hundred and one details of travel without any assistance.

On my arrival at San Francisco there was not a soul to meet me, and I gladly took advantage of the advice of the uniformed representatives of one of the American baggage firms who met the boat, and told me, if I would leave it to them, they would see that my luggage was sent ahead, and would be waiting for me on my arrival in New York.  I thought this was all part of the wonderful American transport system, but on arrival in New York I found that the luggage was there all right, but it had cost me an extra £5 for the privilege of having it handled by my kind friends, the baggage agents. I discovered this mistake when I reached Stewart's Hotel, at which I was to spend the night, before taking the transcontinental express next morning. Stewart, by the way, was an Australian, and made a business of looking after any Australians who were passing through San Francisco, and who knew of his hotel. It was he who opened my eyes to the baggage agents' expensive joke at my expense.

My First Glimpse of New York

Next day I took a train for New York. I had been fortunate enough to meet on the boat a lady acquaintance of mine from Sydney, who was a buyer for David Jones Ltd., and we journeyed across America together. But for her I should have been lonely indeed. I spent about six weeks in New York, but it was largely a waste of time, as I soon discovered that I had arrived in the midst of the ‘off season,’ and there were very few shows worth going to see.

I wondered a good deal why I should have been landed in New York at that particular time, but ‘The Firm's’ New York agent, Mr. Jordan, told me not to worry, and I understood things better when one day he told me that he had received a cable from ‘The Firm,’ asking me if I would be willing to go over to London. Nobody was too keen on making the crossing at that time, with so many ships being sent to the bottom by German submarines, but I was sick to death of New York, and London, even in war-time, sounded good to me.

There were two former members of the J.C. Williamson ballet living in New York at the time—Lila and Annie Carmichael—and when ‘The Firm’ notified me that I could take a travelling companion with me, I asked Annie Carmichael if she would like to go. She gladly accepted, and passages were booked for the two of us in the R.M.S. Baltic.

We had an uneventful voyage across, though the war-time conditions were not very pleasant. At night the huge liner was allowed to show no lights at all, and no passengers were permitted on deck after dark. It was a depressing trip, and we were all glad when we arrived at Southampton.

Annie Carmichael met a man on the ship whom she had previously known in San Francisco. He was travelling to Europe as a buyer for his firm. He shared a cabin with a Jewish-looking individual, who wore a life-belt, fashioned as a waist-coat, night and day. We had our first real taste of war-time conditions, when, on arriving at Southampton, the Jewish-looking traveller was arrested as a German spy, and Annie's unfortunate friend was also held as his accomplice. As a matter of fact, the two were complete strangers until they met on the boat, but the innocent traveller from San Francisco had a good deal of difficulty in convincing the military authorities of the fact.

War-time London

I should have felt very lonely in London, too, but for dear old May Beatty and her husband, the late Edward Lauri, who had a flat in Southampton Row at that time, and more or less took me under their wing. Those were about the worst days of the air raids, and just before my arrival the Gaiety Theatre had been bombed, with the loss of many lives. My first experience of an air raid was being awakened by the warning sirens at 2 a.m. I was by myself at the time, Annie Carmichael having gone to stay with friends in the country, and May Beatty telephoned me up and told me if I was scared to go over to her flat which was nearby, and join them in their cellar. However, I preferred to stay where I was. It was very awe-inspiring, but I was sufficient of a fatalist not to worry over much. I felt a bit sick next morning, however, when I saw the great pits made in the streets by the bombs, and the windows of one of the big hospitals, adjoining, completely shattered.

My London Production

I had only been a few weeks in London, and had seen most of the bigger shows, when Captain Malone, who was then representing ‘The Firm’ in London, asked me if I would like to assist him in the production of High Jinks, which the JCW management was about to stage at the Adelphi Theatre. I gladly agreed to do so, and I soon found out that, in this case, it was not so much assisting as producing.

Captain Malone spent most of his time in France, and only came over on weekend leave, with the result that practically the whole of the production devolved upon me. Needless to say, I had a pretty difficult time, and was exceedingly nervous, never having had anything to do with a London production. I was acutely conscious of the fact that the English producing methods might be quite at variance with anything I was accustomed to.

I shall never forget the first full chorus rehearsal. It was at the famous Theatre Royal, in Drury Lane, the Adelphi stage being otherwise engaged, and the call was for 10.30 a.m. I had previously had a musical rehearsal, at which I had been careful to explain that all the ladies of the chorus would be expected to wear the regulation practice dress. On my arrival at the theatre I found the genuine chorus girls who worked for their living, ready and waiting in their practice clothes, but the high and mighty show ladies began to wander in one by one, several of them arriving over an hour late.

When I asked one of them what had detained her, she remarked with a haughty air, ‘My dear, we simply couldn't get here before, as we've been spending the weekend up the river.’

I told the girls very forcibly that if they couldn’t come to rehearsal on time, they had better stay away altogether, and ordered them to hurry and get into their practice dresses.

The one who had acted as spokeswoman before replied, ‘My dear, we didn't bring them, but we can tie up our street dresses with ribbon—that will do, won't it?’

I explained more forcibly than ever that it wouldn’t do at all, and dismissed them for the day, adding that if they were not there punctually the next morning with their practice dresses, they needn’t come at all. I had no more trouble in that respect.

Act 1—Dr. Thorne’s Private Sanitorium near Paris— scenery by T.E. Ryan

Teaching the Chorus-Men a Lesson

We went on with the rehearsal without the show girls, and I had not been long at work before I noticed that the dozen or so of chorus-men who were all we were able to rake up from amongst the ‘conchies’ [conscientious objectors] and such like specimens, were inclined to regard me as a huge joke. They had never had a woman producer over them before, and I suppose they thought that they could treat me with scant ceremony. Seeing how the land lay, I decided upon prompt measures.

I was feeling horribly nervous, but was determined not to show it. Presently I told the girls to sit down and called the chorus-men down stage. They came forward, and I addressed them something along these lines:

‘Well, gentlemen, you seem disposed to take me as rather a good joke. Now let me tell you that I have been used to having hundreds of people under my control, and I am quite accustomed to ruling the roost. Probably you would act differently if you had a man to deal with, but I know my work, and I can assure you I am as good as any two men. There's the stage door, gentlemen, and you have your choice of going out by it or doing your work in a proper manner.’

The men all went back to their places looking particularly sheepish, and after that I had their respect and co-operation all the way through. I never had to say another word to them.

All of the show girls eventually agreed to wear practice dress except one, who was particularly ‘up-stage,’ and appeared to expect that she was to be given a small part. She was rather a good type, and I told her I would give her a couple of lines to speak, but that she would still have to take her place in the chorus. She did so for a time, but finally sent in her resignation to Captain Malone. I was a little doubtful whether the latter would uphold me in the matter, and on going to see him I was greatly relieved when he threw his arms round me and said: ‘Thank goodness you’ve got rid of that one, Minnie. We’ve been trying to lose her for a long time, but didn’t dare do it ourselves.’

It transpired that the girl had the backing of a person of very considerable importance, financially, to the firm. Of course they put all the blame for her resignation on to me, explaining that it was entirely my responsibility, and that the matter was out of their hands.

Some Old Friends

Several members of the London company are well known in Australia. W.H. Berry, who played Field Fisher’s part, has never been out here, but W.H. Rawlins played the same part in London that he had already played in Australia. Tom Walls, now a leading actor-manager and one of London’s leading screen stars, had a comparatively minor role. He had also been in Australia playing the jockey in The Arcadians.

Then there was Maisie Gay, who was to come to Australia later in This Year of Grace, and to return to England sadly disgruntled about her reception here. Peter Gawthorne, also here later on, played Dick Mayne, and Leon M. Lion, now a noted character actor on both stage and screen, played the Maitre d’ Hotel.

Gwen Hughes, who was also here; Nellie Taylor, Marie Blanche. Violet Blythe and two French girls were among the other principals. In the chorus were two Australians making their stage debut. One was Cyril Whelan, a son of Albert Whelan, who had a small part, (he afterwards joined the Royal Flying Corps and was killed on active service), and the other was a daughter of Florence Esdaile, who later came out to Australia, and I believe is living in New Zealand.

British Stage Thoroughness

One of the things which struck me most forcibly about the production of High Jinks in London was the attention to detail, particularly where the dressing was concerned. Accustomed as I was to the more or less haphazard method of handing out costumes to the chorus in Australia, I was amazed at the care and attention lavished on this phase of the production. All the costumes were designed by M. Comelli, a celebrated London theatrical designer, and they were made by a famous Bond Street firm. A leading Regent Street milliner supplied the hats. 

All these people sat in the stalls at the first dress rehearsal, and each member of the chorus was brought forward individually and specially fitted. If the colour or the style of a frock or a hat did not suit a particular girl, she was not permitted to wear it. The same attention to detail applied even to shoes and stockings. In fact, no chorus girl was allowed to appear without every detail of her costume being individually attended to. The result was that each girl was dressed to suit her particular type, and looked her very best.

The principals, of course, ordered their own clothes, but these had to be passed by Comelli before being worn. If he decided that they were unsuitable they would be sent back and others substituted. It is notorious that many clever theatrical artists are quite devoid of taste where clothes are concerned, and in London many a famous star has had her reputation saved by the dress designer.

An Australian Contrast

This thoroughness persists right through the theatrical world of London, and it is the principal reason why English musical comedy productions are ahead of ours. In many respects the Australian chorus and ballet are better than those of the London stage, but because of this attention to dress detail, the general effect of the ensemble here is far below the London standard.

In Australia little attempt is made to dress the girls according to type; the colour schemes are not properly thought out, and very often hats are worn which do not even match the frocks, and are definitely not suited to the wearer. It is no exaggeration to say that our Australian chorus and ballet would look fully fifty percent better if the same close attention to their appearance was given here as in London.

I had the production of High Jinks complete and ready to go on at the announced date, but owing to one of those terrific hot spells which occasionally occur in England, it was postponed for a fortnight, and to my intense disappointment, I had to leave for America on my return journey without seeing the show. Before I left, however, my chorus boys and girls gave me a jolly little send-off, and made me a handsome presentation, which I still treasure.

Act 3—Hotel de Pavillion at Beauville—scenery by A. Terraine

Lonsdale as Lyricist

I met a great many interesting people on that first trip, though not of course as many as I should have done in normal times. Some of them were then quite obscure, but have since become famous. Others were then more or less famous, but have since become obscure. That’s the way of things in the theatrical world, as in other worlds.

Among the former category was Frederick Lonsdale, the brilliant playwright, who was at that time a literary ‘hack’ who divided his time between journalism and writing extra verses and couplets for the theatres. I remember him quite well standing by during rehearsals for High Jinks, and occasionally being called upon by W.H. Berry, the comedian, to supply a fresh verse for a number, or a few lines of comedy dialogue to smarten up a situation. Berry played the part Field Fisher appeared in here, and I remember that when Mr. Lonsdale remarked to him that he would no doubt prefer to arrange a certain number himself, Berry turned to me, and said, ‘Oh, no; I have seen this lady’s work, and it’s quite good enough for me.’

Some years later when I returned to London, and called to see Captain Malone, I found him engaged with a man I seemed to remember having met.

When I entered, Captain Malone said to me, ‘Come in, Minnie. Here’s someone you’ve met before, only now he has pots of money, and then he hadn’t a bean.’

It was Frederick Lonsdale, who, next to Noel Coward, must today draw more in royalties than any other English playwright. He is a charming man, and quite unspoilt by the success which has come his way.

Frederick Lonsdale

Recruiting poster—1915

Coo-ees from the Diggers

Amongst the sad memories of that first London visit were the visits I received from batches of Diggers over in ‘Blighty’ on leave, who, seeing my name on the playbills and recognising it as something familiar from their homeland, would come along to the theatre during rehearsal and ask to see me. More than once I was called out to meet a crowd of these fine lads, who would give me a welcome with the real Australian coo-ees; which always brought a lump to my throat.

I remember, too, that my own brother, who had been away from Australia for years, and had enlisted with the ‘Tommies’ in London, asked for special leave to come across from France and see me. The War Office was evidently suspicious of the request—they probably got many bogus ones—and sent a special messenger down to the theatre to ask me if I had a brother serving with the British forces. We had dinner together on the last night of his leave—it was a Sunday night, and he had to leave for France early next morning.

My last words to him were: ‘Be sure and dodge the bullets, Albert.’ A few days later he was killed in action.

Twilight and Dark

One of the things I love most about England is the twilight. Taxis were not only expensive, but difficult to procure in those war years, and often we would stroll down to the theatre in that lovely English twilight. Then when we came out after the show was over, what a contrast, with the black darkness of war-time London! I always found London more difficult to find my way about in than New York, and often we would lose our way completely after coming out of the theatre.

Once I remember, when I was living at a little hotel just off the Strand, we found ourselves right away up in New Oxford Street, when at last we summoned up sufficient courage to make inquiries. Curiously enough, the man we asked our direction from turned out to be, himself, an Australian and he very kindly escorted us all the way back to the hotel, refusing to leave us until he had seen us safe indoors.

Amongst happy memories of that first visit to London, there was a memorable visit to the fashionable Ciro’s, where I was guest at a luncheon given by Sir Peter McBride [the Agent-General for Victoria]. I also renewed acquaintance with Violet Lorraine, whom I had known well in Australia, when she was here as Principal Boy [in the pantomime Puss in Boots for JCW in 1912–13].

‘Yeomen’ Memories

One of the show places which held a special interest for me was the Tower of London, owing to the fact that I had so often seen its stage replica in The Yeomen of the Guard. I visited the Beauchamp tower, from which the scene in that opera is taken, and saw the actual Block which figures in the opera. This is said to be hundreds of years old, and has the marks on it left by the axe used in beheading the unhappy political victims. It was interesting to me as an Australian, to compare the ancient charm of London, with the rather blatant newness of New York. At that time America was definitely anti-British, and I had plenty of evidence of this during my two brief sojourns there.

Anti-British Feeling in USA

On my return to New York, after visiting London, for example, I met Mabel Webb, who had been working in England for the Red Cross. She did a lot of literary work in those days, and was visiting America in the hope of getting some special writing to do for the American papers. She told me that one day soon after her arrival from England, she was walking along Broadway wearing a little Union Jack pinned into the lapel of her coat, when a burly German accosted her, gazed venomously at the little flag badge, and smacked her across the face.

There was a policeman near by, and Mabel went up to him and said, ‘Did you see that?’

‘I sure did!’ said the policeman.

‘Well, aren't you going to do anything about it?’ asked Mabel.

‘Not on your sweet life, I’m not,’ said the constable. ‘It's your look-out if the “Stars and Stripes” aren't good enough for you.’

I remember attending a big revue production at Washington, one of the features of which was a Grand March of all Nations. Each European monarch was represented by a man made up as nearly as possible to represent the real king. The whole house rose and cheered when the man representing the Kaiser entered, but when the impersonator of the King of England came on, they kept their seats and hooted.

I was with Harold Ashton in a box, with a party, including some Americans, and when that happened I became simply furious and wanted to stand up and cheer. Mr. Ashton whispered to me to keep my seat, and take no notice, which I did, very much against my inclinations.

On another occasion I attended a public meeting held to deal with the question of America entering the war. That was in New York, and I attended merely out of curiosity to see what would happen. I didn’t remain long. Every time England was mentioned there would be an outburst of hoots and yells. Things were different later, of course, when America finally entered the war, but certainly at that time there was no friendly feeling for the Old Country in the USA, as I saw it, and even Australians were by no means popular. As a matter of fact, ninety-nine per cent. of Americans were totally ignorant of where Australia was and used to ask me the most ridiculous questions about it.

A Great Disappointment

One of my greatest disappointments on that trip occurred on my return to America from London. After a few weeks in New York, I dropped in to Chicago, before going on to San Francisco to catch the boat back to Australia. While there I ran into Mr. and Mrs. Hugh J. Ward. He was then with ‘The Firm’, and insisted that I should return with him to New York, as the season was then only just beginning. I went back with them, and it was while in New York that time that the great Morosco asked me to arrange some special musical numbers in a dramatic show he was about to produce.

It was a great compliment, but to my intense chagrin ‘The Firm’ would not agree to release me for long enough to make that possible, as they declared that I was wanted back in Australia.

I should dearly have loved to have done it, as, apart from the valuable experience, I should like to have been able to say that I had produced shows both in London and New York. However, it was not to be.

Mr. & Mrs. Hugh J. Ward (Grace Miller Ward) with their son, Mel Ward

National Library of Australia, Canberra

Broadway impresario, Oliver Morosco—1916

Wikipedia

On my return to Australia I had to commence rehearsals at once for the next pantomime and very soon that first trip began to seem like a dream to me. I have visited both London and New York since on many occasions for ‘The Firm,’ but never again by myself. By the time I got back to Australia I was, of course, a fairly experienced traveller, but I made up my mind that never again would I undertake an overseas journey without a companion.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

First published in Table Talk (Melbourne, Vic) on 7 July 1932, pp.24–25, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-page17696361, with further extracts from the subsequent chapters published on 14 July 1932, p.22, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-page17696410 and 21 July 1932, p.10, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-page17696442

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Endnotes

By Rob Morrison

Although initially sent to South Africa to direct and choreograph the pantomime Puss in Boots for J.C. Williamson Ltd. in 1914, as part of The Firm’s first foray into establishing a South African touring circuit for its productions, Minnie Everett was subsequently tasked with taking on the direction of JCW’s season of the musical comedies The Girl on the Film, The Girl From Utah and The Dancing Mistress, in addition to her choreographic duties, when the English producer who had been hired for the job, George Slater, returned to England soon after his arrival in Durban due to illness. Having thus established her capabilities as a director-choreographer, JCW made full use of Minnie’s talents on her return to Australia at the conclusion of the tour by assigning her to direct and choreograph a series of revivals for its Royal Comic Opera Company, which included Ma Mie Rosette, Paul Jonesand The Old Guard in 1915. Given her knowledge of the Gilbert and Sullivan repertoire, Minnie was also tasked with directing and choreographing all of JCW’s G&S revivals between 1917 (when she staged a one-off revival of The Mikado in Melbourne starring C.H. Workman and Gladys Moncrieff) to 1942, for which Minnie took great pride in being the only professional woman producer of G&S in the world during that period.

While Minnie’s direction of the 1916 London production of High Jinks was not made public knowledge at the time (J.A.E. ‘Pat’ Malone receiving the official credit) the English Press (via the press agents employed to promote the show) nonetheless did acknowledge the singular novelty of a female ballet mistress being put in charge of creating the dances for a West End musical comedy (in a field dominated by men) as well as her status as a producer for JCW in Australasia.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Music & The Drama

Rehearsals are in full swing at the Adelphi, and it is expected High Jinks will be ready for production in the course of a few weeks. Hitherto the teaching of the dances for both principals and chorus in a London musical comedy has been carried out by a man. The directors of the Adelphi Company, however, have entrusted this part of the production of High Jinks to a woman, Miss Minnie Everett, who is thus making a record in London, is an Australian paying her first visit to England. In Melbourne and Sydney she is known as the stage producer for J.C. Williamson and Co., who have numerous theatrical enterprises in the Antipodes. (Apollo)

The People (London, England), Sunday, 6 August 1916, p.4

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

PLAYS AND PLAYERS.

Referring to the production of High Jinks, a new musical play at the Adelphi Theatre, London one of the English papers comments on the fact that the directors of the company have brought for the first time into the production of a London musical comedy a woman to teach all the dances—for principals and chorus. ‘Miss Minnie Everett, who is in this department making a London record, is an Australian, and this is the first time she has been in England. She is well-known in Sydney and Melbourne as stage producer, and to get ideas for Christmas pantomimes she came to London, and is staying awhile to help with High Jinks. Towards the end of the month she goes to New York to watch the autumn productions there, and by November 1 she will have arrived in Melbourne,’ says the journal in question.

The Daily Telegraph (Sydney, NSW), Saturday, 30 September 1916, p.6

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Meanwhile an item in the Bulletin’s weekly theatrical gossip column (named in honour of the sobriquet given to the strip of pavement in Park Street, between Castlereagh and Pitt Streets, near Sydney’s Criterion Theatre where out-of-work theatricals gathered in the hope of finding employment) revealed the true authorship of High Jinks to its readers. 

At Poverty Point

‘C. Ockney’: High Jinks the musical-piece recently staged by the Williamson firm, has been put on at the London Adelphi. As in Australia no authors’ names appeared on the bill. This naturally caused comment—so much comment indeed that the Adelphi deemed it advisable to confess that it had kept the names from the public because, although not German, they ‘looked remarkably like it.’ They undoubtedly do. The author of the words is Otto Hauerbach; the musical composer is Rudolph Friml. The former is, so the management avers, a Dutch-American; the latter a Bohemian, naturalised in USA So now we know. But why not have said so at first?

The Bulletin (Sydney, NSW) Vol. 37 No. 1915, 26 October 1916, p.9

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Indeed such was the sensitivity to the anti-German feeling prevalent amongst the British public during the Great War that the sheet music for the songs from the score of High Jinks by Friml and Hauerbach [Harbach] was published in Britain under the pseudonyms of ‘Roderick Freeman’ and ‘Ogden Hartley’, which did at least retain the initials of their respective names.   

As JCW Managing Director, Hugh J. Ward had acquired the British performing rights to High Jinks at the same time as the Australasian performing rights, it was arranged that the musical comedy would be staged as J.C. Williamson Ltd.’s first London production in collaboration with West End impresario, Alfred Butt. But whereas the original Australian production by-and-large remained faithful to that originally staged in New York (albeit with additional songs and dance music interpolated into its score) the show was significantly adapted to suit London tastes, with the revision of the libretto undertaken by Frederick Lonsdale (who, amongst other changes, altered the nationality of the Frenchman, Monsieur Jacques Rabelais to the fiery Spaniard, Senor Rabelais, while Dr. Robert Thorne was re-christened Dr. Wilkie Thorne) and the interpolation of additional numbers specially written by Paul Rubens, Jerome Kern, James W. Tate and Howard Talbot, with additional lyrics by Percy Greenbank, Clifford Grey, Clifford Harris and “Valentine” (pseud. of Archibald Thomas Pechy) chiefly to showcase the talents of lead comedian, W.H. Berry in the expanded role of Dr. Thorne. This revised version, which premiered at the Adelphi Theatre on 24 August 1916 for a run of 383 performances, subsequently became the basis for all revivals of the musical staged in Australasia by JCW between 1917 up to its last professional outing in 1935 starring Madge Elliott and Cyril Ritchard.

Program for the original London production. Overtures collection—courtesy of Rex Bunnett.

Pepita Bobadilla (aka Nelly Louise Burton) who took over the role of ‘Mdlle. Chi-Chi’ during the run, would subsequently become the second wife of Australian-born playwright, Haddon Chambers in October 1920 (and his widow upon his death in March 1921.)

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Audio

1. Something seems Tingle-ingleing (Friml)—Peter Gawthorne & Chorus

Adelphi Theatre Orchestra conducted by Howard Talbot (HMV C-720 or 02682)

2. I could love a nice little Girl like you (Paul Rubens)—William H. Berry & Girls Chorus

Adelphi Theatre Orchestra conducted by Howard Talbot (HMV 4-2785)

3. Love's own Kiss (Friml)—Nellie Taylor & Peter Gawthorne

Adelphi Theatre Orchestra conducted by Howard Talbot (HMV C-737 or 04180)

4. I'm through with roaming Romeos (Friml)—Maisie Gay

Adelphi Theatre Orchestra conducted by Howard Talbot (HMV B-712 or 2-3191)

5. She says it with her Eyes (Friml)—Maisie Gay & W. H. Rawlins

Adelphi Theatre Orchestra conducted by Howard Talbot (HMV C-721 or 04177)

Original 1916 London cast recordings by His Master’s Voice (‘The Gramophone Company’) restored and reissued on Palaeophonics 142, courtesy of Dominic Combe.

Picture sources

Original 1916 London cast and scenic photos by Foulsham & Banfield published in The Play Pictorial (Vol. XXIX No. 174) courtesy of Dominic Combe.