PASSING OF WISH WYNNE

Otago Daily Times, Issue 21529, 29 December 1931, Page 10

PASSING OF WISH WYNNE

A FAMOUS COCKNEY “STAR” COLLAPSE AFTER BROADCAST WIFE OF A NEW ZEALANDER. (From Our Own Correspondent.) LONDON, November 18. Universal regret throughout the Mother Country was expressed at the death of Miss Wish Wynne, a wellknown and versatile actress, who was particularly good in her presentation of of humble Cockney life. Privately, she was Mrs Bernard Kitchen, wife of a New Zealander, who was once a professional pianist, and who later changed his vocation for that of medicine. The hope had more than once been expressed by them both that New Zealand should be their country in. the future, their desire being to settle down in the Dominion. On the stage in New Zealand Wish Wynne was quite well known. She was an immense favourite on the stage and on the music halls in England, but of late she had expressed a preference for broadcasting. ■ Her illness began about a year ago, and she underwent a serious operation then. She continued with her work afterwards, and her listeners, laughing at her comic Cockney sketches, never guessed that their entertainer was even then the victim of constant and terrible pain. After her broadcast on October 2-1, she re-entered St. Bartholomew’s Hospital. There she passed away peacefully on November 11 at the age of 49. “ The paiu is terrible,” she said, a few weeks ago after appearing at a film studio in which she gave one of her character sketches. But she went on to the end, full of astonishing vitality. “ It was a beautiful ending and a happy release from a year of intense agony,” said Mr Kitchen. “ Only a very serious operation a year ago saved her life, but since then she has endured terrible pain. Although her friends did not know it, she often went through torture during her appearance before the microphone. Her last appearance was followed by a complete collapse, and I rushed her to the hospital. Her condition was so bad that it was impossible to operate a second time. I am thankful that during the past 10 days she felt no pain at all. In her conscious moments she would ask for me, and I jwas at the hospital 24 hours a day. Last night she rallied. I asked her if she knew that I was holding her in my arms. There came a friendly whispered ‘ Yes.’ A few moments later she passed away.” HER FAIRY STORIES. . She wrote all her monologues herself, carrying a little notebook about with her to jot down anything amusing that she heard. Mr Bernard Kitchen was her accompanist, and ho went with her on her tours. Listeners delighted chiefly in her vividly true-to-lifo impersonation of a Cockney girl giving her idea of the famous fairy tales, such as “Bluebeard,” “Aladdin,” “Cinderella,” and so on to a group of younger children. “It was only by a great effort that mother summoned up enough strength to give her last broadcast. She hated to disappoint anyone,” said her daughter, Zoe. “ Mother received thousands of letters and many little gifts from listeners. She treasured these greatly. By her wish no one was allowed to know of her last illness.” An official of the 8.8. C. said: “Miss Wynne was one of our most popular artists. Between her microphone debut in April, 1924, and her last performance on October 24 this year she hud broadcast 77 times.” She was one of the earliest broadcast performers—in fact, so keen was she on the work that she ran the risk of losing music hall contracts at a time when certain interests were antagonistic to radio, rather than give iip the work. On the wireless she was more amus-

ing than on the halls or at her seaside concerts of the last year or two with an audience. Over the ether you heard her jests and noted her skill in character drawing, but you did not see that wistful look in the white face which haunts those who watched her as a “ turn.” THREE WORLD TOURS. Miss Wish Wynne, who was 49 years of age, was born in London of Scottish parents. She made her first stage appearance when she was only 12 in “ Dick Whittington ” at Drury lane. She went on from success to success in many outstanding West End productions, including “ The Ticket-of-Leave Man,” “Drink,” “The Two Orphans,” and “ East Lynne.” Her greatest triumph was as Janet Cannot in “ The Great Adventure,” which she played at the Kingsway Theatre almost throughout the run of more than GOO performances, with Henry Ainley. Barrie wrote “The Old Lady Shows Her Medals ” for her while she was on a world tour, but the cable offering her the engagement missed her at Capetown. For a time she abandoned the stage for the concert platform, and then became a music hall “ star.” Several times she toured the United States, South Africa, South America, Australia, and New Zealand, and three times toured the world. In 1928 she published “ ’Ere,” a volume of “ confidential chats.” “SEEING IT THROUGH.”

The Times makes the accompanying interesting comments: — In a week that is largely devoted to the memory of certain men and women who “ saw it through ” on a great scale it may not be amiss to spare a glance to their spiritual kinsfolk who, year in and year out, are found—or more often are not found —seeing it through with the same courage and to the same end. In this very week two such examples have been set. On Armistice Day in Hamilton, I)r Frederick Mowbray had a heart seizure while performing an operation and, although in agony, went on with his task, to die when it was finished. And in London a very popular theatrical artist, Miss Wish Wynne, left her sick bed and in spite of great pain kept her promise to broadcast a fairy story: a long illness and much suffering, kept secret from the public, made the strain too great, and she died on the night of November 11. Neither of those benefactors of their kind—neither he that brought health nor she that brought happy laughter to men, women and children—would have claimed to be heroic, any more than the men and women of 1914-1018: they had their job, and they saw it through. When Robert Louis Stevenson died there was an outburst of admiration for his courage and gaiety in the endurance

of his all but lifelong ill-health; and that outburst set up a reaction in which the object was not to diminish the praise of the high-spirited writer, but to make him one of an innumerable company who, nameless for the most part and unremembered, see it through. . . . In every walk of life, both among men and among women, there are innumerable sufferers who conceal their pain and go on with their Job when they would have every right to give up ask for succour from others. A cynic might say that at the root of this endurance lie a good deal of pride and a dislike of being fussed over. It may be so. Neither the spirit.nor its effect would be any the worse for that; and the most gloomy pessimist who claims to be a realist must feel a little more hopeful about human nature when he reflects that for every case of such heroism which is recorded there must be thousands which pass unknown.