Press Clippings for the week ending
Saturday, 9 November 2002

A random selection of cuttings
from newspapers and magazines

* * * * * * * * Hayden Coffin at the Lyric Club, London, 22 February 1887 ‘On the 22nd ult., Mr. Hayden Coffin entertained his friends, whose name is legion, at the Lyric Club, with music and recitations, diluted by tea and coffee, and tempered by ices and pasticceria. There was a great gathering of composers and critics, managers and music-publishers, dainty dames and damozels, artists and authors, concert-room and comic-opera stars of various magnitudes, green-room gossips and fashionable flaneurs. Aided by several fellow-songsters of both sexes, all well known to fame, the justly popular young American baritone entertained his guests profusely with concords of sweet sounds, whilst canary-coloured nymphs meandered hither and thither, proffering refreshments to dilettanti unnumbered, rarely in vain - for singing and declaiming are notoriously thirsty work to listeners as well as performers. Mr. Coffin no only sang delightfully, "his custom always of an afternoon" as well as of an evening, but played the host to perfection. Success has not turned his head or spoilt his manners, which are excellent; and it is no wonder that good looks, modesty of demeanour, and unaffected cheerfulness should have secured to him the good suffrages of society as well as high favour with the general public.’ (The Theatre, London, Tuesday, 1 March 1887, p.158) * * * * * * * * ‘Plays Don’t Pay in London’ Told by Mr. George Edwardes, who Recently Celebrated his 25th Year as ‘The King of Musical Comedy,’ London, 1912

left, Kate Vaughan as Lady Teazle; right, George Edwardes

(photos: left, W. & D. Downey, London, circa 1887; right, Midgley Asquith, London, circa 1900)

‘I seem to have been connected with the producing of musical plays for so many years now that, somehow or other, I do not find it an easy matter to know just when and where and how any incidents in my career may begin interest readers of Pearson’s Weekly. ‘I may say at once, however, that before I came to London I had some considerable experience in the provinces as acting-manager, though, to be quite frank, when I accepted the billet I knew nothing about an acting-manager’s duties. ‘However, there it was. I liked the life, and as no sensible being can have any objection to doing what he likes, I decided to stick to the theatrical profession as long as it would stick to me. Le me pass along to the time when I first launched out in a play on my own account. This initial venture was none other than Little Jack Shepherd [Gaiety, London, 26 December 1885], with which play I was associated at the Gaiety Theatre with the late Mr. J[ohn] Hollingshead. ‘Little Jack Shepherd proved to be not only my first venture, but also my first success, and the huge delight I felt when the box-office receipts pointed to its having "got home" was - well, mere words fail me. I felt as if I were walking on air, and also as if the future must now hold nothing less for me than one long unchecked run of triumphs. ‘But, ah me, what idle dreams those have since proved to have been! Having started with a success, and flushed with my first triumph, I soon discovered I was not long to enjoy an "unbeaten record," and in the last twenty-five years or so I have learnt something about musical comedy, something which the public will, no doubt, be surprised to learn, namely, that the producing of musical comedy is nothing more or less than a gamble. ‘Thus, some of the plays of mine that had the worst receptions on the first night that I can remember were San Toy [Daly’s, London, 21 October 1899] and The Country Girl [i.e. A Country Girl, Daly’s, 18 January 1902], both of which, however, from a strict L.S.D. [i.e. financial] point of view, afterwards turned out to be two of my greatest successes. ‘And here I may be, perhaps, allowed to admit you into a professional secret. It is the exception rather than the rule for a musical play, no matter how popular it may be, to really pay in London alone. ‘The reason for this unfortunate - very unfortunate from a manager’s point of view - truth lies in the fact that productions these days are necessarily of such a costly nature. Stars’ salaries are high, dresses and scenery cost a small fortune, the rent, lighting expenses, staff, and general upkeep of a West-end theatre is extremely heavy, that unless a play is phenomenally successful, a manager cannot expect to get a return on his outlay in London alone. ‘Why produce musical comedies in London, then? Because the advertisement that a successful play is awarded in London, helps in a wonderful way to a good start in the provinces and abroad, for, as probably most readers are aware, I produce musical comedies not only in London, I send them also in large numbers to the provinces, America, Africa, and Australia. ‘Some stories about famous players who have appeared under my management? ‘In the first place I would mention that for some strange reason I have frequently remarked that almost every actor and actress usually entertains some particular dislike to his or her part. ‘As an instance of this, I may tell you that Mr. [Joseph] Coyne, who made his first and biggest "hit" over here as Prince Danilo in The Merry Widow [Daly’s, London, 8 June 1907], thought that he would be an awful frost, as he was convinced that the part would not suit him, and more than once he prayed me to let him off playing the character. But naturally I, in my turn, begged that he should stick to it, which he did, with the success that millions of theatre-goers now remember. ‘Another amusing story of a certain very well-known comedian, a very great favourite at the Gaiety [i.e. Edmund Payne], crosses my mind. I was reading a part to the mirth-provoker in question, who has a very notable lisp which, though he perhaps does not realise it, has, nevertheless, earned for him many a laugh on the stage. Accordingly the character for which he had been cast had been purposely endowed by the author with a pronounced lisp, and I paid careful attention to this in reading over the part. ‘When I had finished, I asked, "How do you like it?" ‘"Very much indeed, guv’nor," he answered. "I think it’s a great part, but" - and he was very earnest about this point - "I think one thing about it is rather thilly. Surely it isn’t nethethary to play the part with a lispth, is it?" ‘Another peculiarity I have remarked upon in connection with many musical comedy artistes is that they have a curious habit of wishing to do something which will not show them at their best. ‘Poor Kate Vaughan who, by the way, was the first dancer to wear lace petticoats on the stage, which she did in The Forty Thieves at the old Gaiety [24 December 1880] over thirty years ago, would persist in wanting to sing, and positively wouldn’t play unless she were given two or three songs. ‘Of course, her dancing was superb, but she simply couldn’t sing a note - but there it was.’ (Pearson’s Weekly, London, week ending Saturday, 21 March 1912, p.931) * * * * * * * * Thoughts on Lily Elsie’s Marriage, London, 1911

Lily Elsie

(photo: Foulsham & Banfield, London, circa 1908)

TOO MUCH LILY ELSIE. ‘London has hardly simmered down after its great excitement. ‘For weeks its jaded appetite has fed on such headlines as: MISS LILY ELSIE’S HATS. MISS LILY ELSIE’S TROUSSEAU. MISS LILY ELSIE’S WEDDING-DRESS. WILL MISS LILY ELSIE LEAVE THE STAGE? MISS LILY ELSIE TO RETIRE. MISS LILY ELSIE NOT TO RETIRE. MISS LILY ELSIE’S WEDDING-DAY FIXED. Etc., etc. ‘For months London has hung on every gracious reported word of its popular favourite - licked up the crumbs of her smallest confidences - gone wild over the question of whether she would or would not retire, and above all, wondered WHEN WOULD IT BE. ‘Last Tuesday the streets were flaming with coloured contents-bills of every hue. Did they announce the outbreak of a fresh war - or the death of a Cabinet Minister, or the sinking of a man-of-war? ‘Oh, no - something far more important and interesting. They ran: MISS LILY ELSIE MARRIED. ‘At last! What excitement! Lily Elsie married. ‘Who is Lily Elsie? She is a young musical comedy actress with a pretty face, a pretty voice and mediocre talent. But she wears her clothes smartly, is amiable in disposition, and has an attractive personality on the stage. ‘"She is the daughter of the late William cotton, and she is a niece of Wilfred Cotton, who married Ada Reeve." ‘Like most girls on the stage, she began her career in a humble way, and not so long ago was an unknown actress in a pantomime at the Coronet Theatre [Notting Hill Gate]. ‘But Lily Elsie has captured the great London public, and makes it dance to any tune she likes and draws it after her wherever she goes. ‘And London lets its geniuses died of despair and its young painters lack recognition and its artistic singers pine in vain for a hearing. ‘"It is a strange, mad world, my masters."’ (The Watch Dog, London, Saturday, 18 November 1911, p.76b) * * * * * * * * Mlle. Zulaika, Harry Pilcer and Mlle. Rahna in trouble at the Palace, Paris, 1923

Harry Pilcer

(photo: unknown, probably Paris, circa 1920)

‘Poor Harry Pilcer has come a cropper. There has been some agitation in Puritanical circles in Paris, for such exist, over the lavish display of the human form divine in the music halls, and when the newly-opened Palace went one better, if only a little one, they complained to the police authorities. They fastened particularly on Mlle. Zulaika, who does Oriental dances, and Mr. Harry Pilcer and Mlle. Rahna for their dancing in "L’Après-midi d’un Faune." The danse du ventre is no doubt a risky dance, although it has been danced in Paris and elsewhere for donkey’s years. It came as a distinct shock, however, to Harry Pilcer, that his rendering of "L’Après-midi" should be questioned. He is entirely clothed in tights, and his performance is exactly as given at the Petit Casino at Marseilles during several months, when no objection whatever was taken to it. An amusing incident in the affair was that both danseuses incriminated danced before the magistrate, recalling the famous gesture of Phryne, though not imitating it exactly. The case will probably turn out to be merely a storm in a teacup, and the artistes will no doubt be acquitted with the classic injunction, "Not guilty, but don’t do it again."’ (The Dancing Times, London, May 1923, pp.819b and 820a)

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© John Culme, 2002