IDOLS OF THE “HALLS”

Greymouth Evening Star, 11 August 1928, Page 12

IDOLS OF THE “HALLS”

JOURNALIST’S RECOLLECTIONS “Variety is the spice of life,” and Mr H. Chance Newton, familiar to leaders of the London “Referee” as “Carados,” and perhaps our most expert historian of the development ot the British music-hall, has taken part in “variety,” first as an actor, then as song and sketch writer, and, later, as variety and dramatic critic. In “Idols of the ‘Halls’ ” Mr Chance Newton takes us back to those early days of the music-hall, to its origin in those boisterous evenings when the chairman presided over the public-house concerts, adding to the general conviviality by free use of a hammer. Those were days long before the palatial Alhambra and Coliseum of our time.

In these memories famous figures are brought to life again. Marie Lloyd, Jenny Hill, George Leybourne, Chirgwin and Chevalier re-appear in all their frolic-some distinction. Dan Leno was one of Mr Chance Newton’s earliest friends, and indeed Leno was indebted to Mr Chance Newton for saving him from the dangerous generosity of too-bibulous friends. One day Leno was invited to take tea with a clever coster-actress in her suburban “palace.” Leno was not prepared for the magnificence of the establishment. He was greeted at the portals of this suburban mansion by two gor-geously-dressed flunkeys.. ’• “On recovering, 'Dan was ushered in by these sumptuous Servants and planted in a magnificent chair in the ditto drawing-room,” writes Mr Chance Newton. “While perspiring all over and striving to pull himself together so as to be on his best and most dignified behaviour, the little visitor was suddenly swooped down upon by the serio’s young brother, now in startling ‘attire,’ a thing hitherto unusual with him.

“The effusive and effulgent young welcomer, explaining that his sister had not yet finished her ‘toilet,’ began to invoke guest Dan’s attention and admiration, not to say adoration, of sundry articles of furniture, bric-a-brac, and so forth, recently acquired by his serio-sister. “ ‘Look at this yere pianer, Dan,’ quoth the juvenile enthuiast, ‘all deIterated wiv gold, gold things to hold the blooming candles, and gold between the blinking keys. Don’t it dumb yer?’ “Dan silently assented. “ ‘And jest tyke a lyker at these ’ere pictures on the walls! There’s gorjns frames —them frames cost a lot of spondulics, I give yer my word. Don t they dumb yer?’ “Leno, quite overcome, made further signs to express his voiceless worship. “And yer’s fireirons for yer; gold plated and wif all kinds of coloured stones in the handles and lings! And yer’s so and so, and such and such,’ the good little lad continued again, ejaculating after each specimen, ‘Don’t it all dumb yer?’ “ ‘And then—believe me, or believe me not,’ Dan used to say (using his well-known music-hall catchphrase). •In due course down came that serio in all,her glory. She grandly took the head of the Sunday tea. table, her daintly little nob surmounted by huge feathers, her bare chest and chubby little arms and hands smothered in trinkets. And as the two flunkeys behind her chair motioned grandly to the two equally gorgeous parlourmaids to hand round the winkles, I noticed that to pick ’em out with we had gold pins!” “ ‘And then,’ added Dan, ‘when I saw those gold winkle pins I collapsed, indeed, saying, ‘Don’t it all dumb ver!’”

Marie Lloyd's Play. A great sensation was made in the stage’ world when it was announced that Marie Lloyd would tour in a new play. The fact w r as widely advertised. The weeks rolled on and the opening day for the play grew nearer. But neither Marie nor theatre manager could get any reliable information concerning the play in which she was to appear. “Marie kept worrying me, and 1 kept worrying her engager for news regarding that eagerly awaited script. But all was silence!” writes Mr Newton. -At last, this was the strange outcome. Marie came to me in a volcanic state, and declared that my managerial friend had suddenly brought her three plays of his or somebody’s. ‘And,’ exclaimed Marie, ‘they all turned out to be blinking Bernhardt plays —all right for Sarah, but no earthly use for Marie!’ “An ominous lull then set in for some few days. Next —about a foitnight before Marie’s advertised opening date —epistolary and viieful bombs began to be dropped by the provincial managers concerned. “To come to cues, this is what occurred. Exactly a fortnight before that long-looked opening date, T might have been observed rehearsing a new burlesque of mine, called ‘Julius Tree —Sir,’ for the Moore and Burgess Mohawk Minstrels, when suddenly there dashed into the theatre the play-pro-mising (and-now-perspiring) engagei of Marie Lloyd. “Expressing thanksgiving that he had traced me, he called me aside, and said: ‘Old friend, you must help me—you alone can help me out of this awful difficulty. You must write this play for Marie Lloyd.’ “‘What! Ar? you dotty?’ I replied. ‘Why, Marie’s starting date is a fortnight hence! You must find something ready made. No new play can be written, rehearsed, and produced in such time for such a Star!’ “The upshot of it all was that, as mv friend was (and is) one of the noblest-hearted of men, and being anxious to help little Mario out of this terrible difficulty, I agreed to do the best 1 could in the time. “And so, I wrote that play for Marie, scene by scene, and song by song, at a series of day and night rehearsal'-, with the composers, scone painters, dross designers, chorus, etc., by my side, and engaging people as I wont along. Anyhow, we got through!” , All was well, for Mario Lloyd and her London company appeared in the play a fortnight after Mr Chance Newton had set to work. Sir Oswald Stoll, who writes a friendly foreword to this book, is, of course, one of the most distinguished

figures who have ever appeared in the limelight of the variety stage. When Sir Oswald Stoll was first associated with the London Coliseum, there was some difficulty in gauging tlie taste of such a largo audience. One night he sent for Mr Chance Newton, and together they sat in a box for three hours, watching the programme on the Coliseum stage. “I only want you. as an old friend, to Ml. with me, amt when the show is i ll over, to give me your opinion of it,” said Sir Oswald. Mr Chance Newton’s reply was brief. “‘Stoll.’ said I, ‘I have sat with you for three hours in this wonderful theatre, and what have 1 seen? I have seen Mrs Brown Potter stabbed through the thorax with a long sword, in a. very sanguinary sketch. 1 have seen Charles Warner go volcanically mad, and eventually commit suicide in r. short version of “Drink.” I have seen my fat friend Rutland Barrington, representing a. starving tramp, die on the roadside. 1 have seen two lovers throw- dice at a table as to which should shoot, the other dead, for the sake of the lady whom they both love. and would fain carry off! All these four plays of doom and gloom,’ I added. ‘have I borne without, a murmur. But. if this kind of programme of morbidity is to continue in this large anil lovely theatre, 1 shall suggest to you to rename it!' “‘What name do you propose?’ asked Oswald. “ ‘The Morgueseum?’ I replied. “Stoll stolidly-remarked: ‘That’s all I want to know, Chance. Good night!’ “And. from that time onwards, that kind of ‘horror upon horror’s head’ programme was never again in evidence at the Colliseum.’