ROMANTIC PARTNERSHIP OF COLOURED SINGERS.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 19268, 3 January 1931, Page 17 (Supplement)

ROMANTIC PARTNERSHIP OF COLOURED SINGERS.

Layton and Johnstone.

[A SMALL COLOURED BOY carried ice-water up to the late Henry Irving when that famous actor was staying at the Plaza Hotel, New York. Sir Henry went over his pocket to find change to give the boy a tip. A gesture stopped him. “ I don’t want a tip, sir,” said the lad, “ I—l’d rather stay and see you drink the ice-water.” Henry Irving, perhaps, had never had a more naive tribute to his art, but then he had never had one more sincere. Without a word he removed his hand from his pocket, and lifted his glass with a courteous gesture to the boy. But not even the great actor realised, perhaps, that it was the toast of one artist to another. From that instant Clarence Johnstone, of the now world-famous team of Layton and Johnstone, experienced a yearning for the stage. Mentally he was no longer a bell-boy. He was performing in the theatre. But—he was alone. There was nobody with whom Clarence Johnstone, one of the millions of Tittle coloured lads in the United States, could share his dream of fame. And—alone—he could not face a hostile world. The vision that had come to him as Henry Irving toasted him gradually faded. Practical necessity made him face realities. He qualified as a physician. It is a trifle difficult to realise, but the fact was that Johnstone who today keeps hundreds of English workmen in jobs making and selling the gramophone records which have added m* much to the team’s reputation, was painfully short of money. To work Wp a practice as a doctor is a slow thing in the best of circumstances. For those of an alien race in the United States it is even harder. Then came the war, and with it serious wounds that made it an impossibility for Johnstone to go far in his profession.

Once again the vision that Ilenry Irving had conjured up before those great, sparkling black eyes, eyes that have said as much to audiences as his voice, loomed large—but it seemed no nearer crystallisation.

Meanwhile, unknown to Johnstone, another young man was infatuated with the stage. This was Turner Layton.

Mr Layton, theatrically speaking, had a better start, certainly, for his father had been a noted musician, and, indeed, it had been owing to him that Cole ridge-Taylor first went to the United States to give his classic performances of “ Hiawatha.” Layton had had more musical education, and he had achieved a certain renomme as a composer. But there were a lot of things he had in his mind, and he just couldn’t bring these off because—he hadn’t a friend.

He took occasional partners so as to do a double act. These young men followed the music as it was written, and when Layton groaned “ That’s not what I mean,” looked at him in a bewildered, reproachful but quite unhelpful way. He wanted a style that he couldn't describe, and all they gave him was a conventional rendering. And, while this was going on, poor voung Johnstone, deprived of success as a doctor by the wounds that the war had inflicted, was seeking some rneans by which to rise above poverty. He had promised his father, on his deathbed, that he would always look after his mother, and this promise weighed on him heavily. And then one day he met a friend w T hr» wanted to borrow a dollar. ~ The friend, eager to make some return—to do anything for him, in fact, other than pav back the dollar took him to the Clef Club, which, as maybe guessed, was an association of musicians. Entering into the spirit of the thing, Johnstone commenced to sing. The owner of a cabaret in Ilarlem, the coloured district of New York, asked

him whether he could beat the drums. Before he had time to answer, his dol-lar-borrowing friend replied for him. “ Sure,” he cried. “ He’s fine on the drums! ” And so Johnstone, with a multitude of instructions from his friend as to how to treat a drum and not let it run over you, took on the job. He was poor on the drums, he confesses, but what he lost in the playing he made up in the singing. And within a few days he was given an engagement to sing at a private party. At this party. Turner Layton, in a lone act, was also appearing. After the performance, the two men exchanged looks. Ju£t such looks must have been exchanged between Damon and Pythias, David and Jonathan. Without prelude and as though the Fates had willed that they should understand one another from the start, there began a partnership destined to enliven many an evening for the Prince of Wales. One that has brought delight to hundreds of thousands, indeed to the millions, who frequent the theatre or listen to the gramophone. Each of the young artists had found

a E E ® E E HI E S E HI e in E E S IS e e ® a friend. A world that could not be broached alone seemed easy of approach now that they were together. So successful were the two that they decided, partly' on the advice of Sir Thomas Lipton, who had heard them in Florida, to come to England. Aboard ship they received a cable offering them an engagement, and they went to work at a well-known club patronised by the Prince of Wales on the very night of their arrival! The Prince has long been noted for his especial gift of discovering talent. After the first song, he recognised in the two unknown negroes artists of the first water. His approval, which, once gained is alway*s shown generously, meant that they were “ made.” From that night’s triumph emerged the proof of their sincere and lo\*al regard for one another, for that they might share every'thing equall3\ they decided that not for a long while to come would they let the world know which was Layton and which was Johnstone. The Prince’s appreciation of their art continued to manifest itself, and when j he was going abroad he happened to j mention in Johnstone’s hearing the ■

name of his favourite air. Layton and Johnstone had a special gramophone record of it made. And, the day before his Royal Highness’s departure, Johnstone went to present it. The Prince received him, and the singer, bowing very low, offered his gift. Thp Prince held out his hand to take it. And somehow it slipped. The Prince expressed his disappointment, saying how much he would have liked to take the record aboard ship with him. Mr- Johnstone rushed in mad haste - > his partner. “What’ll we do?” he demanded. “ Can’t have the Prince disappointed.” Make another,” said Turner Layton, with the imperturbable smile that has endeared him to audiences, but for which at that moment his partner co«ld cheerfully have murdered him “Another?” gasped Johnstone. “But the Prince leaves to-morrow morning and it’s late afternoon now.” “ Can’t help that,” drawled Mr Layton, “ we just have to make another.” The gramophone company was telephoned. All were cajoled, threatened, pleaded with by Mr Johnstone. And, by keeping the works open until dawn when Mr Johnstone himself travelled to the ship—the new record was taken, in perfect condition to the Prince. Success did not turn the heads of the two artists. Keeping quietly* to themselves, strong in each other’s friendship, they risked much of their hard-earned money and engaged a company of their' own and hired the houses in which they were to play. It was taking a big chance, but Johnstone had implicit faith in Layton, and Lavton swore b\' Johnstone. A five-figure profit was the result. And now is to come the biggest test of all. They are going to do that which has never been done before ! Layton and Johnstone are going to take the largest halls all over the country*, and give concerts—not vaudeville entertainments. 1 hey will sing forty*-five or fifty' songs in an evening, and during the , brief intervals of rest necessary to them, a trio will play—such a trio as might be employed by Chaliapin or 1 Elenore Gerhardt. If this scheme is successful, and it I has been tried out on the Continent < with the most encouraging results, the huge fortunes that they have already made will be more than doubled * “ Alone I’m just nothing,” savs John- * stone. I I

“Bv myself, 1 never feel worth a darn,” say's Layton.

“ Layton’s idea, this new scheme of ours,” says Johnstone. “ Mighty original plan of Johnstone's, this concert thing,” says Layton. Characteristic comments, for each believes that most of the cleverness of the team belongs to the other. And each is glad that it should be so. No wonder the public doesn’t know which is Johnstone and which is Layton. They hardly know themselves. Nor does it matter. They are friends 1 , (Anglo-American N.S. Copyright.)