CHRISTMAS "CRY" IN LAMBETH

Press, Volume CIII, Issue 30634, 28 December 1964, Page 3

CHRISTMAS "CRY" IN LAMBETH

[From the London Correspond' ent o) “The Press’’]

LONDON, Dec. 21. The Lambeth Bor-

ough Council deserves any palms given for the most novel method

of sending out Christ-

mas and New Year greetings in 1964; it employed the 121 b

handbell and clarion voice of Alfie Howard, the only remaining town criei’ in London.

And Mr Howard brings a fresh approach to his ancient office. Although a citizen of Lambeth he shuns the “Lambeth walk” and rides about the district on a motorscooter—in full costume, with a crash helmet built into his tricorns.

The reason is practical, says Mr Howard, for the 250,000 fellow citizens who are supposed to hear his voice liye in a borough seven miles deep by three miles wide. “Walking is too slow and too hard on the feet”—especially When the feet are wearing yellow stockings and silvertouckled shoes. When I first met Mr Howard he was out of his maroon-and-yeltow costume, and wearing instead the cloak of British respectability—dark suit, black coat and bowler hat, and carrying a briefcase. It was necessary to hang to the coat after hopping on to the back of his scooter; my vision was obscured by the “bowler” as he put-putted through busy Brixton streets to the warmth of the “Duke of Edinburgh” pub. for lunch. Mr Howard, aged 47, is one of the 28 town criers still in existence in Britain. If you think it is a “crying shame” the way town criers are being treated these days, consider these facts: As Town Crier of Lambeth, Mr Howard receives no payment from the borough, but in his honorary position he is able to accept messages to be cried for other people at fees he may set for himself.

At night he dons the scarlet coat of a toastmaster, a highly-paid professional position in Britain, and works at dinners in places like the Dorchester or Savoy Hotels—even at dinners in Buckingham Palace. As the man who announces the guests as they arrive, as well as announcing speakers, he must have a highly-developed memory for names, faces and titles. As a town crier, Mr Howard is useful in promoting British trade fairs and exhibitions overseas. In the last three years he has been sent to demonstrate his art in 14 countries. He returned from a 7000-mile tour of Australia (which lasted three months) in July of this year and went to the United States in September for 10 weeks with British festivals. He has another projected tour of the United States in September of 1965. I suppose this popularity is because people, and Americans in particular, do like to cry over spilt years. The office of town crier goes back

in some parts of Britain to the thirteenth century. Before the days of radio, telephone and loudspeaker vans all public announcements were “broadcast” by this means. It is refreshing to think that this picturesque form of communication still survives.

The man in the quaint costume draws a crowd with his handbell, then heralds his announcement with “Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!” (Pronunciations vary from “O Yea” or “Ho Yea” to “O Yes,” according to taste —its derivation is from a Norman-French word meaning “attention,” and not from a corruption of “Hear Ye,” said Mr Howard. Some journalists seem to think there might be a derivation of the modern pop British “Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!” from “Oyez!” Mr Howard, raising beetle-brows and eyes to the heavens, appeared to consider this suggestion beneath his professional dignity to comment upon. Mr Howard, in full cry. begins: “Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! I am commanded by the Mayor and Councillors of the Borough of Lambeth (or other persons) to. . . .” The “cry” continues to wish the people of Lambeth a Merry Christmas, or advertise a temporary cut in electricity or water supplies while a repair job is undertaken, or to give news of a garden fete or local dance. There is an added picquancy when the Old-World town crier is giving some strictly twentieth century announcement The “cry” always ends: “God Save the Queen.” The town crier does not walk the streets at night with messages such as “Eleven O’clock and all’s well”—this was the job of the watchman, an office which has now died out completely. The town crier is always employed to broadcast news

of any Royal births, deaths or marriages. One of Mr Howard’s saddest “cries” was the death of King George VI. More recently he took his bell through Lambeth to cry the assassination of President Kennedy. Every year the remaining towncriers of Britain gather at Hastings for a competition. Mr Howard was the champion town crier of 1959 and has also gained places in several other years, for his crying of the "test piece.” He is frequently loaned to other boroughs for special occasions. In June he was loaned to the City of London and went crying through the central streets to advertise the City’s Festival. Every * Rogation Sunday there is the ancient ceremony of “Beating the Bound” to be carried out in Lambeth, however. This entails visiting the parish boundary stones, which are struck by choirboys carrying sticks. In the old days an occasional boy was also thrashed to impress the extent of the bounds upon him. Now the town crier merely does his best to split the boys' ear drums with his proclamations, and the boys too are exhorted to “Oller! BoysOller!” as they strike the stones.

Town criers are a fund of local lore, proud of their town and job. They are not beneath being employed for more mundane matters—lost children, purses or pets—and often assist charities without fee. The essential requirement is, of course, the voice. Mr Howard developed his as a boy, when he helped at his father’s market stall. There is no better way of developing lung power than by shouting down London’s traffic, he says.

A spell during the Second World War as an Anny drill sergeant provided the finishing touches. But at that stage he had no thought of becoming a town crier.

It was after being wounded at Dunkirk that a hospital psychologist advised Mr Howard to join the hospital concert party. On cabaret duty he became interested in the toastmaster's trade, studied techniques, and then never looked back, working at most of London’s hotels and appearing at many Royal receptions.

A few years later he became entertainment organiser at Shanklin, Isle of Wight. He decided it would be a good idea to have a town crier on the strength and arranged auditions for 20 applicants on the local football field. Mr Howard was not satisfied with the auditions, so gave the applicants a demonstration of the way he thought town crying should be done. Then the council told him he had got himself a job.

That was 14 years ago; later he became town crier of Cromer during summer seasons, and in between times he cried in his home borough of Lambeth, and carried on his career as a toastmaster and master of ceremonies. He played a major part in the Lambeth Festival in 1961 and in the following year was created Honorary Town Crier of Lambeth during the pleasure of the council. Since then he has been off on his overseas tours and on loan to various other bodies. Whenever he is back in Lambeth he is out on his motor scooter at least one day each week, repeating a “cry” 25 or more times.