Press Clippings for the week ending
Saturday, 20 July 2002

A random selection of cuttings
from newspapers and magazines

* * * * * * * * A night at Weston’s music hall, London, 1865 ‘Comic singing, sentimental ditto, transformation dancing, Irish ditto, acrobatic feats, and Indian juggling, alternate (as the comc King of Islington says), "in a quiet sort of way," at Mr. Weston’s old established Hall. The performances of the Brothers Martinette are of their kind extremely clever, and in any case highly appreciated by the audience here. The plastic junior Martinette gains great applause for his facetious exertions, but the grand effect, like the bouquet of pyrotechnic displays, is reserved for the last. Martinette number two doubles himself up inside a tub, and Martinette number one tries to pull him therefrom but fails. Martinette number three, in a voice of childish treble, assured the public he has a friend outside equal to the emergency, and forthwith produces a bull dog, which extracts the captive acrobat, and with the tenacity of his disreputable looking species, retains the firmest hold of Martinette’s rope girdle. At Weston’s the comfortable, easy, unrestrained, en famille mode of proceeding appears in full force. The chairman has his little joke with the charmed circle at the centre table, while some young lady is singing an English version of "In questo semplice," but the young lady seems to bear no kind of malice, either for the little interruption, or the utter mystification of her professional name in the verbal announcement thereof. Human nature is infirm, and voices will not always travel half the length of a room; but mechanism and bold type could not fail. When (in the apparently unavoidable absence of a "chair," which will make us comfortable) shall we see the name of the singer run into a rack as he or she appears? or when will snowy-kerchiefed attendants know anything, except how to bring refreshments and take fees? "Who’s who" at Music Halls becomes more and more difficult to determine. The public can afford to be apathetic on the subject, but a few inquiring strangers are always present, who would be glad to know more than is allowed. Miss Harkall affects the characteristic in the World of Song, and makes a good choice of Henrion’s pretty Spanish serenade, "Sweet love, arise." Herr Pierre Watkins (one upon a time, if our memory is yet "green," Pio Whatkins) is at present the "juggling fiend" of the establishment, and a very clever one too. A quick eye and a quick hand are indispensable requisites for Herr P.W.’s profession, and he certainly possesses both to a very uncommon extent. The juggler coquets in a surprising manner with a popular trade sign, consisting of three gilt spheres commonly suspended over loan offices, and finally catches one of the "baubles" in a cup that, under ordinary circumstances, would be termed a basin. He also performs some excellent balancing feats with a peacock’s feather, throws three knives about till they look like double the number, and performs the same manoeuvre with lighted torches, which distribute a perfume neither like the modest violet nor Rimmel’s programmes. Mr. [William Horace] Lingard is a deserved favourite here. He sings a song giving a bird’s-eye view of the opera, that is to say, imitations of the conventional lines of business. We have burlesques on the sentimental tenor, the very heavy father, the unsuccessful baritone lover, and the prima donna with the lowest courtesy the world has ever seen; but the subject is too entirely musical for Mr. Lingard to do it or himself justice by the choice. Comic songs, as now constituted, have very little to do with singing in the strict acceptation of the term. This favourite vocalist’s character songs are immensely popular, "Farmer Dobson" among the number. Mr. [Edward] Montague still clings to his "Will o’ the Wisp" song, having, doubtless, good reasons for so doing, but although, as the song says, "’Tis merry," ’tis also monotonous beyond a doubt. Nelly Power, Arthur Lloyd, Mdlle. Schmidt, Paddy Fannin, and the Brothers Forbes, appear nightly.’ (The Era, London, Sunday, 30 April 1865, p.14b/c) * * * * * * * * Amy Burdett, ‘The Continental Lady Star,’ 1883

The Entr’acte, London, Saturday,
12 May 1883, p.15c, advertisement.

* * * * * * * * The New Barmaid in rehearsal at the Avenue Theatre, London, February 1896

‘Pinkety Pankety Pank!’
John L. Shine as William White, Lottie Collins as Dora,
and J.J. Dallas as Bertie White in a song and dance from
The New Barmaid, Avenue Theatre, London, 12 February 1896
(Daily Graphic, London, February 1896)

‘As the final rehearsals for The New Barmaid are now going on, one is in some sort of a position to judge of a piece which has been playing in the provinces for nearly a year, and of which, when it was put on for a week at the Camberwell Métropole, Clement Scott wrote that, properly staged, it would be an immense hit. The Avenue has been the theatre chosen for the production, and Lottie Collins, Harrison Brockbank, J.L. Shine, and [J.J.] Dallas, will, amongst others, appear in one of the strongest casts ever seen in a theatre. This is Lottie’s first appearance at a West-End theatre, and those who have seen her at rehearsal seem to think she will take the town by storm. It is absurd to say that this talented lady has skipped into public favour with her one song – "Ta-ra-ra[-boom-de-ay]." She is an accomplished artiste down to her finger tips, and in her latest songs there is not a word nor gesture, although they appear so natural, that has not been carefully studied and thought out.’ (The Court Circular, London, Saturday, 8 February 1896, p.142b) * * * * * * * * A Week-End, Walter Ellis’s new farce, Kingsway Theatre, London, 12 September 1918

Yvonne Arnaud
(photo: Daily Mirror Studios, London, circa 1912)

‘Having made a great success with one "little bit of fluff" [the farce, A Little Bit of Fluff, Criterion Theatre, London, 27 October 1915], Mr. Walter Ellis has doubled his stakes. Last night at the Kingsway Theatre we had two ladies of doubtful origin and quite certain character. One of them, it is true, turns out to be the niece of a professor of singing, which may or may not be evidence of part respectability. The other is a French lady who falls desperately in love with Mr. [Ernest] Thesiger as a railway porter with vocal ambitions. Both little bits of fluff are accompanied by married men, who have accepted the professor of singing’s invitation to use his empty house. The wives of both men follow them, and there you are. ‘The farce is called "original" in the program. Mr. Walter Ellis really means that it is not an adaptation. No farce is original. The situation of A Week-End could be traced back to the Stone Age. But Mr. Ellis has invented one or two original bits of business, or his stage-manage has done it for him. ‘The railway porter ties the French lady’s show-laces to his own ankle, and the two have to hop about (roars of laughter!). One of the errant husbands stands on a coat which, on being pulled away, trips him up. Both husbands bide under tables and move with them when they are moved. ‘There is, however, a good and new idea in making a railway porter desirous of falling in love with a married woman in order that he may suffer the pangs of passion for the unattainable, and so benefit his art of singing. But the character is very loosely woven into the texture. In fact, it is not woven, but is an appliqué. ‘There is a good cast at the Kingsway, and Mr. Thesiger, Mr. [Dennis] Neilson-Terry, Mr. Sebastian Smith, and Miss Yvonne Arnaud, on whose shoulders its chief burden lay, worked with unflagging spirit. The audience roared with laughter even at the poorest jokes, and so A Week-End may be accounted a success.’ (E.A. Baughan, The Daily News, London, Friday, 13 September 1918, p.3c)

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© John Culme, 2002