THE QUEEN OF COMEDY ENNES

Te Awamutu Courier, Volume 53, Issue 3823, 19 October 1936, Page 2

THE QUEEN OF COMEDY ENNES

MARIE LLOYD. (By “ One of Us.”) The news that the Alhambra Music Hall in Leicester Square, London, is to be demolished is painful reading to those old-timers who remember the cld days at the halls. In recent years the Empire, the Tivoli, the Oxford, and Daly’s Theatres have all gone the same old way to make room for the “ flicks.” In remembrance I think of the usual programme at the London Pavilion, known to all as the “ Pav.” 'Twenty-four turns make up the night’s entertainment, and in the bill are Marie Lloyd, Dan Leno, Vesta Tilley, Cinquevalli, T. E. Dunville, Gene Stratton, and Maggie Duggan. Every one a top-liner. Names are 'conjured up in one’s memory of others—Chirgwin, Charles Coburn, Herbert Campbell, Little Tich, Lottie Collins, R. G. Knowles, etc. Can any manager to-day produce an evening with.such a galaxy of talent ? It is with the belle of them all that I wish to pay iny little quota of praise and a tribute to a memory— Marie Lloyd. “ Our Marie ” occupied in our lives a part which Miss Mae West plays in the lives of these cinema days. Public opinion of Marie Lloyd was certainly divided. Some thought of her as a great artist; others held a totally different view. She was daring, yet she ever kept the view of the artist. HER EARLY LIFE. She was born in Hoxton, Shoreditch, London, on 12th February, 1870. Her father was John Wood, and he made artificial flowers. Her mother, Matilda Wood, was a remarkable woman in that she was shrewd, humorous, wise, and tidy. John had one fault: he was satisfied with things as they were; he had no ambition; so long as ends met he was satisfied. When the first arrival came she was named Matilda Alice Victoria; she was known as Marie, not the usual way of pronouncing the name as in Marie Stuart but Mar-ee—pleasant, broad, and comfortable. In those days she was nick-named Tilly. The family grew, and at the right time the family were ten in number. FIRST STEPS UP. Tilly Wood and sister Alice started a troupe of minstrels, and called them “ The Fairy Bell Minstrels,” and their greatest success was at the Nile St. Catholic Mission. The star piece was called “ Throw Down the Bottle and Never Drink Again ” the joys of temperance, the evils of drink, children run over, little beggars, ruined hemes, drunken mothers and fathers, etc. All phases of the drink question were poured forth by little Tilly Wood accompanied with action. Tilly was a handful at home, and on one occasion her mother said to John, “ I tell you what—that kid wants a damned good hiding ! ” Mr Wood thought a while, and replied, “ Yes, knock one devil out of her and knock another half dozen in ! No; she’ll settle down all right.” Mrs Wood tried several times to place Marie (Tilly) in a job, but the results were ever the same. In a job one week, out again the next. Tilly went into a bead trimming factory, and the forewoman disliked her. While absent, the girls bet Tilly that she would not dance on the table while the forewoman was out. Tilly replied, “ Daren’t ? Who daren’t ? I’ll dance for you.” In that instant she was on the table, her feet twinkling, her hands moving, her face alight with mischief and laughter. The door opened, and—tableau ! Tilly was out of a job—sacked. Her mother asked her what she was going to do. “I’m going on the stage, and I’m going to call myself Bella Delmare.” TO THE WEST END. On sth October, 1885, at the Middlesex Music Hall, the celebrated Irish comic vocalist and clog-dancer, Dan Leno, made his first appearance. That same year Marie Lloyd first appeared in the West End at the Oxford Music Hall. Fifteen years of age Bella Delmare opened at the Grecian Theatre at 15s per week. Mother made her clothes. One morning a manager interviewed her and asked her if she was using her own name. “ Mine ? No. My names Tilly Wood.” “Well, I might as well tell you Bella Delmare isn’t any use as a name to you. Means nothing. Can’t you think of a name that will cut some ice ? ” Tilly considered. Her face Cleared. “ I’ve got it ! A real name—on all the hoardings—Lloyd’s Weekly Newspaper—Lloyd.” Again she paused and considered. “ Marie Lloyd—that’s me from now.” Tilly Wood disappeared and Marie Lloyd shone forth at the Star Palace of Varieties, Bermondsey, at 15s per week, on 17th August, 1885. She was the fourth turn, her time was 8.20. and she was given 15 minutes. By December, 1885, she was at the Oxford. A HEART OF GOLD. It is impossible to enter into all the details that made the name of Marie Lloyd ring throughout Great Britain and elsewhere. The hatred of the goody-goody people, the love of the poor, the esteem of the “profession” —the admitted fact that “ our Marie ” was a great artist in every sense of the word. That she was called “our Marie ” by everyone shows how deeply she had entered into the hearts of the common people. Perhaps a few sidelights may serve as clues to the popularity of this wonderful woman. At the Oxford one night something like this happened: Marie arrived with half her family behind her, and th,ere was poor little K.L., who had been almost a star, crying. Marie stopped, listened, then broke in with. “ Here, damn it, I can’t wait. Here you are ! ” Taking her purse she emptied its contents into the crying woman’s lap. “ Oh, Marie, whatevei can I do to thank you ? ’’ Marie considered, then burst into a laugh. “ De for me ? Buy me a drink. I haven; got a penny until they pay up from the front.” Hear what Mr Bransby Williams says about her. She asked him how old he was; then, “ Did I drink ? ’ “ No.” “ Oh, well, you’re just as well without it; only one now and then won’t hurt you. You’re a nice, quiet chap. Do you ever swear ? No ?

Oh well, I do —once now and again. It relieves your feelings ” To Mr George Graves she said, “ Listen, young cocky. You’ve made a big name. Keep it—hold it—work for it; and keep away from cards and racing and the boys of the village.” Mr Graves’ comment was, “ Wonderful advice, too. I did a mental verb, sap. on the spot.” Fancy this from Marie Lloyd. A lady friend, in Marie’s dressing-room drinking whiskies. “ Listen,” she said, “ you poor silly fool. You ought to thank God someone does treat you like a child ! Because other people make damned fools of themselves is that any reason why you should ? Th* lady records that she listened to the kindest, most motherly soul in the world talking real wisdom. It ended with Marie’s own smile, like sunshine through a cloud, and, “ There, that’s all over. Kiss Marie I ” BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU SING. Many managers and others thought “ our Marie ” was too “ risque,” and the question of being careful was the order of the day. Every now and then London would undergo a moral purification and on one occasion Mane Lloyd was a good victim. She was ordered to appear with her pianist and sing every song in her repertoire. She arrived, furious, before the committee. She sang “ Wink the Other Eye,” “ Mr Porter,” “ The Land of King Alphonso,” and many more. She sang without any introduction of a single nod, wink, or movement; the songs and the singer were dull.. The chairman rose and informed Miss Lloyd that she had their permission to continue to sing her songs, as they had found them perfectly harmless. Then Marie Lloyd’s temper snapped. She addressed them as follows: “ You have had me here for over an hour. I’ve had to sing more than a dozen songs—and now I can go I Thank you for nothing. It’s my turn now. I’m going to sing you a couple of songs which your wives sing at home in the drawing-room after dinner. See what you think of them.! ” She -sang “ Come Into the Garden, Maud ” and “ Why Should We Wait for To-mor-row When Youre Queen of My Heart To-night? ” She put into those two songs everything she knew her little twists and turns, her nods and winks; i» fact, she did everything to make those two songs the most improper songs ever offered to an audience. Then when every old gentleman was sitting there before her with a scarlet face, she gathered up her gloves, her bag, nodded to her pianist, wished the committee a very good morning—and made her exit. COMPARISONS ARE ODIOUS. Many folk think that so-and-so is like Marie Lloyd. Oftimes we hear artists endeavour to imitate “ our Marie.” Miss Clarice Mayne is the only living artist who can reproduce an exact copy of Marie Lloyd. Miss Mae West is called the American Marie Lloyd. Marie had a sense of comedy; so has Mae West. Marie was audacious; so is Mae West. Marie wore magnificent clothes—magnificently; so does Mae West. And that is the sum total of the likeness. In mentioning Miss Mayne I am excepting Marie’s own three brilliant sisters. In a different setting, in another sphere, is Miss Marie Tempest. She has all the qualities of Marie Lloyd. With the gaiety, with the comedy, Marie Lloyd had a dark cloud over her during the latter part of her life. THE END. The doctors gave a Latin name to Marie’s last illness. A great specialist was sent for. He examined her, and then talked to her family. “ Yes, that’s one of the things that are killing her,” he said. “We use long names, you know, we doctors, hut to put it quite simply I can give you a name that is not in any medical dictionary, which never appears on any death certificate. She is dying of a broken heart; she obviously doesn’t care to live ” Let us ring down the curtain. R.I.P. “ One of Us ” wishes to add his tribute to the memory of this great artist. She was bom within five minutes’ walk of the place where “ One of Us” also saw the light. Nile St., the Eagle, the Grecian, all in Hoxton; also the Seabright Music Hall, Plummer St., Provost St., Hoxton, are not very salubrious parts to live in. In the West the music halls mentioned were well known to the writer of these notes, both behind and in front. To Miss Naomi Jacob are due the thanks of “One of Us” for refreshing the memory of the past. To me, Marie Lloyd and her sisters still give pleasure and happiness. And so to all, thanks.