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Following a season of just under 17 weeks at His Majesty's Theatre, Melbourne, the J.C. Williamson G&S Opera Company members took the train to Sydney to commence the next stage of their Australasian tour at the Theatre Royal, as WINIFRED LAWSON related in a further chapter of  her autobiography A Song to Sing-O! published in 1955. 

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.

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.

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...)

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

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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.

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The Productions Reviewed

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

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

"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

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  • 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!]

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  • 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

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  • 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.

"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

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  • 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

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  • 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.]

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  • 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

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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)

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

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

 "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.]

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

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

"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

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 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) 

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FINAL CURTAIN.

GILBERT AND SULLIVAN SEASON.

ENTHUSIASTIC SCENES.

There were enthusiastic scenes in the Theatre Royal last night at the conclusion of the performance of "The Mikado," which marked the close of the Gilbert and Sullivan season.

The theatre was crowded, and many encores were demanded during the performance. At the end of the final scene, the producer (Miss Minnie Everett) and the principals were laden with bouquets and other gifts. Each made a brief farewell speech, and the audience remained in the theatre until the last word had been spoken. The players and members of the audience then joined in singing the National Anthem.

Miss Everett was applauded when she threw a flower from the stage to the musical director (Mr. Andrew McCunn). She praised J. C. Williamson Ltd., and the artists. The chorus, she said, had been one of the finest Sydney audiences had heard.

Mr. Ivan Menzies, after expressing pleasure at having played during the season, commended the Oxford Group to his hearers. "It is up to us to put the world right," he said.

"From the bottom of my heart, I thank you," said Miss Evelyn Gardiner.

Mr. Gregory Stroud said he hoped the company would soon return to Sydney.

Mr. Bernard Manning said that this was his third season of Gilbert and Sullivan in Sydney, and the operas seemed to be growing more and more popular. He made a plea for more public appreciation of the operas "Princess Ida" and "Ruddigore," which, he declared, were "the cleverest of the lot."

Miss Winifred Lawson, Mr. Richard Watson, Mr. Godfrey Stirling, Miss Eileen Kelly, and Miss Helen Langton also spoke.

TO VISIT NEWCASTLE.

The company will leave to-day for Newcastle for a season of five nights and two matinees. This is the first Gilbert and Sullivan company that has visited Newcastle for many years.

The company, which comprises 140 members, will leave Newcastle on Friday for a tour of New Zealand.

The Sydney Morning Herald, Friday, 7 February 1936, p.12

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The G&S company’s season in Newcastle at the Victoria Theatre commenced with The Gondoliers at the matinee and evening of Saturday, 8th February, followed by The Pirates of Penzance and Trial by Jury on Monday, 10th; The Yeomen of the Guard on Tuesday, 11th; H.M.S. Pinafore and Cox and Box at the matinee on Wednesday, 12th with Iolanthe in the evening and The Mikado on Thursday, 13th. The company then departed for its New Zealand tour on Friday, 14 February 1936. (The Newcastle Sun reported that the company included a chorus of 50 with a full orchestra under the direction of Mr. Leo Packer).

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Additional Picture Sources

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