Press Clippings for the week ending
Saturday, 14 September 2002

A random selection of cuttings
from newspapers and magazines

* * * * * * * * Rob Cunningham, a retired London music hall chairman, 1896 ‘Although our old friend Rob Cunningham disappeared from the music-hall firmament with the abolition of the chairman’s post at the Hammersmith Temple of Varieties, he still retains the well-known activity of yore. Apart from the conformably-appointed hostelry he presides over down at Twickenham, he journeys up to the Hammersmith Temple every Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, and, with the assistance of Alf. Leggett, he endeavours to develop the latent talent of sundry music-hall aspirants, or with inexhaustible patience and good humour to instil the variety "art" into those in whom talent is conspicuous by its absence. And an excellent tutor he is, too, possessed of no end of patience, and a thorough experience of the difficult work he undertakes. With the elasticity of youth he pirouettes on the "light fantastic" in his endeavours to train the rising generation of variety artistes, and to see him pose with elevated leg is a sight for the gods, and quite worth, in itself, the long journey down to Hammersmith. There is no doubt that Messrs. Cunningham and Leggett are thoroughly genuine tutors, and intending pupils may always rely on receiving fair treatment at their hands.’ (The Variety Stage, London, Saturday, 27 June 1896, p.4c) * * * * * * * * Clara Wieland at the Empire, Leicester Square, London, 1893

Clara Wieland in her Moulin Rouge song
(photo: Hana, London, circa 1897)

‘Last night Miss Clara Wieland introduced a skirt dance of a novel kind at the Empire Theatre, the stage being surrounded by mirrors in which her figures was reflected many times over. The same performer, dancing against a dark background, also exhibited upon her drapery coloured reflections of the Union Jack and other flag and portraits of statesmen. In both cases the effect produced was curious and striking, and was much applauded.’ (The Times, London, Tuesday, 28 November 1893, p.10a) * * * * * * * * Kate Everleigh at Collins’s music hall, London, 1877 ‘That highly fascinating songstress Miss Kate Everleigh, whose pretty face, mellifluous voice, and winning way form a strong, though silken cord, with which she holds the admiration of those who see and hear her, smartly sang a song with the chorus "I don’t quite believe it; do you;" gave her pleasant effusion "He really was a magnificent creature;" and a third in which she professes to be "The Don of Society."’ (The Era, London, Sunday, 4 February 1877, p.7d) * * * * * * * * Professor Dunning the ventriloquist, London, 1899 Eastern Empire music hall, London. ‘Professor Dunning gives a ventriloquial entertainment, in which half-a-dozen figures are introduced. One of them, a Scotchman, is made to say, "Have you got a little drop of whisky?" "For you?" he is asked. "No," is the reply, "for old Kruger to keep his courage up." Under the name of Kahn, the professor afterwards appears, together with Miss Kahn, as a conjuror. They perform various astonishing tricks, completely mystifying the audience. The young lady is next blindfolded and is able to name the various articles shown to the gentleman as he passes from seat to seat in the auditorium. She is even able to describe the dress of a gentleman and a lady who are indicated, and to tell how many times a watch has been pawned seems to this young lady with the second sight an easy task. Their performance is received with much favour.’ (The Era, London, Saturday, 4 November 1899, p.19a/b) * * * * * * * * Edwin Bale’s Yokohama Troupe of acrobats, London, 1891

Boys from Edwin Bale’s Yokohama Troupe.
(centre) ‘Shoulders and legs,’ (right) ‘Full spread.’
(illustrations by Miss R. LeQuense, The Strand Magazine, London, May 1891, p.503)

‘There is perhaps no form of entertainment more popular amongst a large class of playgoers than that afforded by the clever acrobat, of whose private life the public has only the vaguest knowledge. The general impression, derived from sensational stories in newspapers and romances, is that the profession of the gymnast is a disreputable one, involving a constant danger of life and limb; and that young acrobats can only be made proficient in the art by the exercise of severity and cruelty on the part of trainers. ‘The actual facts are that the owners, or, as they are called "fathers," of "troupes" are, in a number of cases, respectable householders, who, when not travelling over Europe and America, occupy little villas in the neighbourhood of Brixton and Clapham [south London]; and that the danger is immensely exaggerated, particularly in the case of boys, who are always caught when they fall; and that the training and discipline need not be any severer than that employed by a schoolmaster to enforce authority. ‘"Of course," said a trainer of long experience to me, "I sometimes get an idle boy, just as a schoolmaster gets an idle pupil, and I have my own methods of making him work. But I would lay a heavy wager that even a lazy lad sheds less tears in his training with me than a dull schoolboy at a public school. I have never met with a single boy who didn’t delight in his dexterity and muscle; and you will find acrobats as a whole enjoy a higher average of health than any other class." ‘There are no "Schools of Gymnastics" for training acrobats in London, the regular method being that the head of each troupe - which usually consists of five or six persons, including one or more members of the family, the acrobatic instinct being strongly hereditary - trains and exhibits his own little company. The earlier a boy begins, of course, the better; and, as a general rule, the training commences at seven or eight years old. Many of the children are taken from the very lowest dregs of humanity, and are bound over by their parents to the owner of a troupe for a certain number of years. The "father" undertakes to teach, feed, and clothe the boy, whilst the parents agree not to claim him for a stipulated number of years. A boy is rarely of any good for the first couple of years, and it takes from five to six years to turn out a finished gymnast. ‘"Is it true," I asked of the head of the celebrated "Yokohama Troupe," "that the bones of the boys are broken whilst young?" ‘Mr. Edwin Bale, who is himself a fine specimen of the healthy trapezist, smiled pityingly at my question, and asked me to come and watch his troupe practise. All gymnasts practise regularly for two hours or more every day. The "Yokohama Troupe" includes three boys, all well-fed looking and healthy, one of them being Edwin, the fifteen-year-old son of Mr. Bale, a strikingly handsome and finely-developed boy, who has been in the profession since he was two. ‘The first exercise that young boys learn is "shoulder and legs," which is practised assiduously till performed with ease and rapidity. After this comes "splits." This exercise looks as if it ought to be not only uncomfortable but painful; but a strong proof that it is neither was afforded me involuntarily by one of the little boys. He did it repeatedly for his own benefit when off duty! After this the boy learns "flip-flap," "full spread," and a number of intricate gymnastics with which the public is familiar. In all these performances boys are very much in request, partly because they are more popular with the public, and partly because in a variety of these gymnastic exhibitions men are disqualified from taking any part in them owing to their weight. In the figure technically know as "full spread" (shown in illustration), it is essential that the topmost boy shall be slightly made and light in weight; but even under those conditions the strain on the principal "supporter" is enormous. As regards danger, so far as I have been able to learn from a good deal of testimony on the point, there is very little of any kind. The only really dangerous gymnastic turn is the "somersault," which may have serious results, unless done with dexterity and delicacy. There is no doubt that exercise of this kind is beneficial to the boys’ health. Several boys in excellent condition, with well-developed muscles and chests, assured me they were often in the "’orspital" [i.e. hospital] before they became acrobats. ‘Their improved physique is possibly in a great measure due to the capital feeding they get, it being obviously to the advantage of the "father" to have a robust, rosy-faced company. Master Harris, of the "Yokohama Troupe," informed me that he generally has meat twice a day, a bath every evening (gymnasts are compelled by the nature of their work to keep their skins in good condition by frequent bathing), that Mrs. Bales was as kind to him as his own mother, and that he thought performing "jolly." He further informed me that he got three shillings a week for pocket-money, which was put into the bank for him. ‘Another boy in the same troupe told me he had over £9 in the bank. Of course, all companies are not so well looked after as the boys in Mr. Bale’s troupe; but I have failed to discover a single case where the boys seemed ill-used. Where the troupe travelled about Europe, the lads were exceptionally intelligent, and several of them could talk fair French and German. A really well-equipped acrobat is nearly always sure of work, and can often obtain as much as £30 a week, the usual payment being from £20 to £25 a week. As a rule, the boys remain with the master who has given them their training, and who finds it worth while, when they are grown up, to pay them a good salary. A troupe gets as much as £70 or £80 a day when hired out for fêtes or public entertainments. There is one point which will possibly interest the temperance folk, and which I must not forget. The boys have constantly before them moderation in the persons of their elders. ‘"Directly an acrobat takes to drinking," said Mr. Bale, impressively, "he is done for. I rarely take a glass of wine. I can’t afford to have my nerves shaky." Altogether there are worse methods of earning a livelihood than those of the acrobat; and, à propos of this point, an instructive little story was told me which sentimental, fussy people would do well to note. There was a certain little lad belonging to a troupe the owner of which had rescued him from the gutter principally out of charity. The boy was slight and delicate-looking, but good feeding and exercise improved him wonderfully, and he was becoming quite a decent specimen of humanity when some silly people cried out about the cruelty of the late hours, and so on, and insisted that he should be at school all day. The lad, who was well fed, washed, and clothed, was handed back to the care of his parents. He now certainly attends school during the day, but he is running about the gutter every evening, barefooted, selling matches till midnight!’ ‘… I must express my best thanks to … Mr. Hugh [J.] Didcott, the well-known theatrical agent, for his kind services in the matter of acrobats.’ (‘Child Workers in London,’ The Strand Magazine, London, May 1891, pp.502-505) * * * * * * * * A troupe of acrobats, England, circa 1880

(photo: E. Gregson, Halifax and Blackpool, England, circa 1880)

This troupe of eleven unknown acrobats numbers four boys of various ages, two girls, and five men and youths.

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© John Culme, 2002