Salici's Parisian Puppets
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Frank Neil - 'He Lived Show Business' (Part 6)
FRANK VAN STRATEN concludes his exploration of the life and tumultuous times of one of Australia’s near-forgotten entrepreneurs.Part 6: Just months before his untimely death Frank Neil told Tivoli executives: “Boys, I now feel our combined efforts are beginning to show real results. Don’t ever forget that in the event of anything happening to me, things must go on just as usual. There must be no regrets.”
Towards the end of 1938 the renowned Chinese illusionist Chang appeared for the Tivoli. Charles Waller recalled: ‘He performed many small tricks and performed them well. His entertainment was pretty and appealing. In the illusion “King Kong”, where a giant monkey disappeared with the breaking up of a cage, high in the air, the ballet, suitably attired, executed a dance peculiarly simian in its activities.’
Sharing the bill with Chang was the extraordinary Black American one-legged tap dancer ‘Peg Leg’ Bates. At the age of twelve Clayton Bates had lost a leg in an accident. He subsequently taught himself to dance, developing a series of spectacular tap routines that proved popular in nightclubs and vaudeville and on television. He appeared twice before the British royal family, at least 22 times on The Ed Sullivan Show, and later in his life owned and operated a fashionable ‘interracial’ country club in the Catskill Mountains. His artistry is preserved in numerous YouTube videos.
Among the Australian acts working with Chang, Adler, Mahoney and the other star 1938 imports were John Dobbie, Jay Morris, Charles Norman, Morry Barling, Albert Chappelle and Hal Lashwood.
Hal Lashwood began at the age of sixteen as a dancer in J.C. Williamson musicals. His father, Joe, was ‘the world’s champion bone manipulator’ and his great uncle, George Lashwood, was ‘The Brummel of the Halls’, a distinguished looking, immaculately turned out ‘descriptive vocalist’ in the grand lion comique tradition. Lashwood had a long career on stage, radio and later television. He was president of Actors’ Equity from 1951 to 1976.
Another up-and-coming local act was Latona and Sparks. Born in Sydney in 1920, Joe Latona developed an energetic acrobatic dance act with Maisie Sparks and later added her brother, Les Warren. In London Joe formed another act, Latona, Graham and Chadell. Back in Australia he choreographed numerous Tivoli shows and taught and mentored many young dancers. Joe Latona died in Melbourne in 1989.
Realising that Tivoli shows and stars were rarely seen outside Sydney and Melbourne, canny Frank Neil came to an agreement with the Hoyts cinema chain to ‘lease’ them some of his imported headliners to appear on stage, mainly in Perth, Brisbane and Adelaide, as part of Hoyts’ regular film programs. The parade was led by Billy Costello, who played a week at the Capitol in Perth, and Will Mahoney, who was the star attraction at the Regent in Brisbane. Many others followed.
The new year got under way with The Big Fun Show of 1939, headed by Ada Brown, ‘Harlem’s Empress of Rhythm’. A large lady with a belting jazz style, Ada had appeared on Broadway opposite Shelton Brooks and Bill ‘Bojangles’ Robinson in the 1930 musical Brown Buddies. Four years after her Tivoli tour she was cast with Bojangles, Cab Calloway, Fats Waller, Lena Horne and Katherine Dunham in the landmark Black musical film Stormy Weather. Incidentally, Ada was a victim of the Tivoli’s notoriously cavalier attitude to spelling, especially in regard to performers’ names. Programs and publicity consistently added an ‘e’ to her surname.
Neil flew back into Sydney on a Dutch airliner early in June. He told reporters he had booked 200 artists including Gracie Fields, Sandy Powell, Stanley Holloway and Fats Waller, adding, ‘It is the best line-up of top-notch stars that we have ever had. They will all appear here within 12 months.’ Of course, he was not to know that momentous changes were only a few months away.
The exotic Chinese-American film and stage star Anna May Wong arrived around the middle of the year. She had starred in the 1933 film version of Chu Chin Chow but was probably better known because of a notorious ‘limited edition’ topless photograph of her that had been distributed internationally by an over-zealous young publicity man at Elstree Studios. Her show, Highlights from Hollywood, commenced at the Melbourne Tivoli on 12 June 1939. Fred Parsons recalled: ‘She opened at a matinee singing several pleasant songs, including Noël Coward’s “Half-Caste Woman”, but went off to lukewarm applause because the audience had been expecting an actress, not a singer. Frank Neil was furious. As soon as the theatre was empty, he called the entire company back on to the stage. Standing in the front stalls he gave vent to a tirade of abuse directed against Anna May Wong. He called her “a has-been”, “a no-hoper” and “a faded old bag”. With amazing dignity and control, she stood there until he had finished. Then she said, very quietly, “Thank you, Mr Neil,” bowed low to him, and walked off. And the entire company applauded her. Wallace Parnell called me into his office. “We’ve got to do something to help Anna. Could you write a dramatic sketch for her?” I said I’d try.’
Parsons created a ten-minute playlet, At the Barricade, based on a recent incident in the Sino-Japanese war, which was raging at the time. In it Anna, as a Chinese woman captured by the Japanese, sacrificed her own life to save the village in which she lived. Parsons continues: ‘Parnell okayed the script, and Anna liked it. An American comic, Bugs Wilson, was pressed into service to play the Japanese officer. It was what audiences expected from Anna, and it went well. She thanked me very graciously, but the thanks were really due to Parnell.’ Incidentally, the Tivoli promoted Bugs Wilson as ‘The Original Voice of Grumpy in Snow White. He wasn’t. That credit belongs to Disney regular Pinto Colvig. It was just one more example Frank Neil’s predilection for embroidering the truth about his less noteworthy imports.
Highlights from Hollywood is also notable for being the first Tivoli show designed by Angus Winneke. In April 1938 Wallace Parnell had been impressed by an exhibition of the 27-year-old’s watercolors at the Stair Gallery in Collins Street, and persuaded Neil to engage him as the Tivoli’s resident designer. Winneke’s stylish costume and set designs were to grace the Circuit’s productions until 1965.
George Robey made his Australian debut at the Melbourne Tivoli on 17 July 1939. His visit had been a long time coming; now he was seventy and well past his prime. His wife recalled: ‘I didn’t tell him I’d signed the contracts and done all the bookings until about a week before we sailed. Then he saw a little activity going on with the packing, and said, “Where are we off to now?” and I replied casually, “Oh, Sydney.” He didn’t believe me at first and then he said, “Well, I’m not going to Australia, I don’t want to be so far away.” I didn’t tell him that the intention was to go on from Sydney to Melbourne and Adelaide, followed by New Zealand and South Africa! I thought one piece at a time was enough. I always used to tell him such news early in the morning, so he had all day to get over it, otherwise, it might have affected his show at night.’
Jim Hutchings remembers: ‘Robey had a marvellous sense of timing. He was a master at projection and delivery that carried to the back wall of the gods. He’d been schooled when there were no mikes and like all the old performers knew all the tricks to get his stuff across. Still, he was poorly received. It upset him immensely, as well as his wife. She used to say to me, “Go out front! You’re his best audience!” I never missed his show. He made me laugh every time.’
Robey was playing in Sydney when war was declared on 1 September 1939, but it was the night before that stayed in Fred Parsons’ memory: ‘I was stage manager. The show went very well up to interval, but when the audience went outside they were greeted with special editions of The Herald announcing that Hitler had invaded Poland. As the second half of the show began, I glanced through the peep-hole and saw no faces, just a sea of opened newspapers. It was an amazing sight. Hitler not only invaded Poland that night, he ruined a Tivoli show.’
When war was declared Nick Lucas was topping the bill in Melbourne. ‘The Singing Troubadour’ had shot to fame in the 1929 film Gold Diggers of Broadway in which he sang ‘Tiptoe Through the Tulips’. He continued to sing it through the rest of his long career. Nick had a soft, pleasant voice and accompanied himself on the guitar. His act benefitted from the Tivoli’s newly installed amplification system.
Microphones had been used at the Tivoli occasionally since the early 1930s. In London, the Palladium had amplification installed in 1933. The Melbourne Tivoli was an intimate house with superb acoustics and though the Sydney Tivoli was larger, audiences were used to sitting quietly and paying attention. Nevertheless, some inexpert artistes had trouble getting their acts across. Stanley Holloway recalled: ‘A lot of laryngitis went on, because people didn’t know how to produce the tone without straining.’ Many comics developed hoarse voices with a cutting edge to them, and throat and chest trouble were common when they became older. More recently actress Stephanie Beacham dryly referred to her stage appearances as ‘shouting every evening for a living.’
The microphone altered the styles of performance. Comics could no longer move around freely; now they were anchored to a bulky microphone at the centre of the stage. The mike also affected the relationship between the comic and the audience. Laurence Olivier lamented its introduction: ‘The entertainer or the single act has a weapon. No one can shout him down. He’s protected by it, almost shielded by it, and the whole spirit of gallantry and courage and temerity that was this medium’s great attraction disappeared in front of your eyes. It was the microphone that killed music hall.’ And if one act used it, all the others had to, or they sounded weak in comparison. On the other hand, the microphone did allow a more intimate style of comedy and song, and artistes who had made their names on radio and recordings could maintain their style in the theatre.
Frank Neil realised that the war would make the importation of artistes increasingly difficult, especially from Britain and the Continent. He also knew that the Tivoli would have a significant role to play in maintaining morale and assisting the war effort. It’s significant he decided to call the first Tivoli show to open after the declaration of war Business as Usual.
Business as Usualstarred the famous Black singing group the Mills Brothers. Their first recording, ‘Tiger Rag’ backed with ‘Nobody’s Sweetheart’, had been a million seller in 1931. Films and a national radio program followed. Their closely harmonised style was sweet and intimate and, again, ideally suited for the Tivoli’s new microphones. Today people listening to the Mills Brothers’ recordings find it hard to believe that the only instrument they used was a guitar; their imitations of trumpet, bass and other instruments were brilliant.
The comedy team in Business as Usualwas led by George Wallace, who reprised his immortal ‘Stanley the Bull’ monologue, assisted by Morry Barling. Act One closed with a stirring scena based on the song ‘There’ll Always be an England’. And an outstanding Australian novelty song-and-dance act, Rex and Bessie Lindsay, made their Tivoli debut. They had appeared extensively in Britain and would remain Tivoli regulars for years. In his later years Rex reigned over the stage door at the newly-opened Victorian Arts Centre.
Business as Usualalso introduced the sensational Lea Sonia to Australian audiences. Lea was the glamorous creation of a Danish-American female impersonator, Carl Wunderlich. Born in Copenhagen to a circus family, he started at the age of nine as a replacement for one of his six sisters in their speciality act. Although nobody spotted that he was not a girl, he was said to be ‘a handsome, manly figure in everyday life’. Still, it was as a provocative and titillating fan dancer that Lea scored his biggest success. ‘In drag he really looked like a female,’ recalled Jim Hutchings. ‘He outshone the showgirls. He had real hair wigs brought from England, beautiful fur coats, poise, voice, projection. Laid them in the aisles! As a star “she’d” get very temperamental. He had rough, common boyfriends who came around the stage door. “Is Lea there?”, they’d say. And Lea would poke “her” head out and say like a real showgirl, “I won’t keep you long, boys”.’
Percy Crawford remembered: ‘His act created such a furore that his visit of a few months extended well into its third year. On stage he appeared for all the world like a shapely, glamorous young woman and he sang in a beautiful soprano voice. But at the climax of his act he would remove his wig, revealing a head of close-cropped dark hair, and stride off the stage saying in unmistakable masculine tones, “Sorry to disappoint you, boys.” In Sydney he was engaged by the Maxine Club [in Oxford Street, Woollahra] and for the first time sang in male clothes. During this season Lea Sonia was killed. He stepped out of the brightly lit interior of the club, raced across a road to get a taxi, and was run down by a tram. By an ironic circumstance, the last number he was destined to sing was “Please Don’t Talk About Me When I’m Gone”.’ Jim Hutchings tells the story this way: ‘The night he met his death he came up to the paint frame at the Tivoli and said, “I wonder if you could design a little tea-room for me. I want something island-ified.” I said, “How would you like a blue heron on the wing?” He said, “Heavens no! Don’t give me birds. They’re unlucky.” That night he had an argument with his boyfriend and threw himself under a tram near Centennial Park. Death was instantaneous. Another star went out.’ Lea Sonia was celebrated in Alex Harding’s 1988 Australian musical Only Heaven Knows.
November brought the Salici puppets to the Tivoli. The Salicis were a six-generation family of Italian puppeteers, and their act is still regarded as among the best of its type in the world. They used dozens of large marionettes and demonstrated an almost unbelievable skill in having them perform a vast range of activities, from playing a piano to singing opera, dancing, and lighting and smoking cigarettes. The Salicis, with Jim Gerald, Billy Kershaw and the juggler Elimar played in Mother Goosefor the Christmas season in Sydney.
Will Mahoney and Evie Hayes had followed their 1938 show with Laugh Round-Up early in 1939; if anything, they were even more popular than before, playing to 131,811 people in just five weeks in Sydney. Notable among the supporting acts was a handsome young ‘American Radio Singing Star’, Lawrence Brooks. In 1944 he created the role of Edvard Grieg in the Broadway premiere of Song of Norway. Will and Evie returned in December with a third show, Hat Trick. With them were John Dobbie, Scott Sanders, Cusko’s Dog, Monkey and Bird Circus, plus a pair of lively newly-weds, Max Reddy and Stella Lamond. Stella’s previous marriage to comic Joe Lawman had produced Toni Lamond, then a budding star and, eventually, mother of actor and writer Tony Sheldon. A year after her marriage to Max came yet another budding star, singer-actress Helen Reddy.
After Christmas this company presented matinees of Cinderellawith Will as Buttons, Evie as Prince Perfect, Stan Foley as the Dame, Stella Lamond as Dandini and Coral Macer as Cinderella. Coral found that her glittering golden coach had been originally built for the beloved Australian actress Nellie Stewart, who performed in Cinderellaat the turn of the century. While Neil’s version of Cinderella was true to age-old pantomime tradition, he must have felt that increasing public anxiety about the developing war should somehow be acknowledged. This would explain why, amid items like ‘Rainbow Land’ and ‘The Beautiful Butterfly Ballet’ he managed to squeeze an elaborate set piece called ‘The Sinking of the U-Boat’.
With Christmas shows launched successfully in Melbourne and Sydney, Frank Neil looked confidently towards the challenges of a new year with Australia at war. He was determined that under his guidance the Tivoli would be ready to play its part in providing entertainment and boosting morale. Neil spent the evening of Saturday, 30 December 1939 at the Tivoli. He left the theatre after the show, presumably to return to the Hotel Alexander in Spencer Street, where he was a permanent resident. A short tram ride or a pleasant walk from the Tivoli, the Alexander, built in 1926, was a large modern hotel, opposite Spencer Street railway station; it is now known as the Savoy.
At around 2 am Frank Neil was in Sturt Street, South Melbourne, near the Kavanagh Street intersection. That part of South Melbourne is vastly different today: it is the section of Sturt Street with the rear of Arts Centre Melbourne and its Theatres Building’s stage door stage door on the east side and the Australian Ballet Centre on the west. In 1939 there was no St Kilda Road overpass, and Sturt Street could be accessed from St Kilda Road via the Alexandra Avenue intersection. On the east side of Sturt Street was the rear wall of the Wirth’s Circus property; on the west was a motor garage and the YMCA. It was quiet and dimly lit. Not far away, the gardens at the corner of St Kilda Road and Linlithgow Avenue provided a meeting place for lonely men.
Neil was crossing Sturt Street near the YMCA when he was hit by a 1926 Dodge car. It was driven by Quartermaster Sergeant Arthur McMaster of the Sixth Division, Second AIF Service Corps, stationed at Puckapunyal Army Camp, some 114 kms from Melbourne. In the car with him were two friends, Harry Powell, an engineer, and Warrant Officer Arthur Martin. The car’s two left wheels passed over Neil and it pulled up some distance away. The tyres left no skid marks.
Frank Neil was rushed by ambulance to nearby Prince Henry’s Hospital. He was admitted at 2.20 am. A £1 note was found hidden in his shoe. Neil’s injuries were horrific: a compound fracture of the base of the skull, a fractured left clavicle, left forearm and pelvis, ruptured urethra, severely lacerated right calf, paralysed left arm and leg, abrasions and shock. His sister, Helenor Mary Urquhart and his brother John were notified. They were living in one of the flats in the front of the Melbourne Tivoli building. They, Charles Brandreth (the Tivoli’s company secretary) and a few close friends went to the hospital. According to one of them, Frank was injured so badly ‘they must have backed over him’. Neil rallied very slightly but never recovered consciousness. He died at 2.45 pm on New Year’s Day, 1940. He had turned fifty-three ten days before.
On 8 January hundreds of people attended his funeral service, and three cars were required to carry all the floral tributes, which included a wreath from the children in the Tivoli pantomime. On its way to the Fawkner Crematorium the cortege halted briefly outside the Tivoli, the Apollo (the former Palace) and the Princess theatres. The chief mourners were his were his sister, Mrs Helenor Mary Urquhart, and his four brothers, John, William, Arthur and Howard.
At the coronial inquest there was evidence that the Dodge’s brakes may have been ineffective, though it was said to having been driven at no more than 25 miles per hour. There was even a suggestion from Arthur Martin that Neil ‘appeared to hurl or jump in front of the car. I should say if the man wanted to avoid the car he would have stood still or stepped back’. Although Neil’s friends and family and many in the theatrical and gay communities believed that Neil’s death could have been the result of a homophobic crime, this was not mentioned in court ̶ probably a reflection of the attitudes that prevailed at the time. Instead, the Coroner decreed that death was accidental, and the case was closed.
A few months later, Frank Neil’s estate was valued for probate at £3761. There was £460 in an account at the Bank of New South Wales. The bulk of the rest of his estate was £478 due from the Tivoli in wages and director’s fees and £2816, representing 8666 fully paid £1 ordinary shares in the Tivoli Circuit, valued at 6s 6d each. Neil owned no real estate; he once had a large home at Warrandyte in the hills north-east of Melbourne. He had called it ‘Whoopee’ after the musical he had presented in 1929. It was destroyed in a bushfire in January 1939. His sister was his sole beneficiary.
It was a sad, inglorious finale for a man who had devoted his life to the fun and colour and glamour of popular entertainment.
In a piece published in The Sporting Globe in 1942, Tivoli publicist Percy Crawford paid this tribute:
‘I could write almost endlessly of the kindly actions and pleasant personality of Frank Neil. He always had time to listen. No matter what any patron, high or low, had to say, he was sure of a hearing from the Tivoli chief, and invariably went away with a great impression of Mr Neil. His spirit never contemplatedfailure, nor did his insatiable appetite for hard work ever weaken. His successes did not change him, and he was ever ready generously to give credit to others.
‘Possibly there was a touch of hidden melancholy in his soul, and perhaps he had forebodings death being not far off. On several occasions, in the evening talks with executives of the theatre, he would say, “Boys, I now feel our combined efforts are beginning to show real results. Don’t ever forget that in the event of anything happening to me, things must go on just as usual. There must be no regrets.”
‘He had a happy life, a busy life. A great worker and a kind-hearted man, he made a host of friends. He wanted to be remembered as he was, a bright sparkling personality. He had an acute brain for the show business and a thorough understanding of artists and their peculiarities. He had the happy knack of engaging in a serious argument one minute and being the best of friends the next. He never carried enmity or malice from any disagreements.
‘Frank’s tragic death is still fresh in memory. There were many regrets, and there is a blank in many places of the theatrical world. But Neil’s great work was well done, and, mainly due to his enterprise, ability, experience and judgment, “the show goes on”.’
Postscript
Wallace Parnell steered the Tivoli circuit through the Second World War, producing lively revues starring Roy Rene ‘Mo’, George Wallace, Bob Dyer and Jenny Howard. He left Australia in 1944 and tried to make fresh start in the United States, but his disastrous business and amorous adventures led to a grisly murder and his own sensational suicide in Los Angeles. Under the management of David N. Martin, his son Lloyd Martin and Gordon Cooper the Tivolis survived until 1966. The last show in the Sydney Tivoli was the revue One Dam’ Thing After Another. The title could not have been more appropriate.
Applause!
This exploration of the life and times of Frank Neil would not have been possible without the help received from:
Nancye and Babe Bridges
Peter Burgis
Dr Mimi Colligan
Gordon Cooper
Dr Clay Djubal
Dr Derham Groves
Graeme Haigh
James Hutchings
Elisabeth Kumm
Eddie McDonald
Valantyne Napier
Steve Rattle
Lady Tait
APAC