The Show Must Go On

[Nick Armstrong]

Ole Bull

Known as "Load of" to his friends...

[edashtav]

Known as "Load of" to his friends...

or Bull****?

Yes, it may be a load of Old Bull but this isn't!

Ole Bull died around 1880.

Ole Bull was built in Newcastle. It sank after striking a mine off Great Yarmouth on a voyage from Hartlepool to Rouen with coal. Mine laid by U-Boat UC19 on 17/11/1916.

Ole Bulls R.I.P.

[edashtav]

Start Again, Cocky ...

Portsmouth Evening News 1st September 1937

Marie Lloyd’s last appearance at the King’s Theatre, Southsea

This piece is taken from an interview with Mr. Charles Clarke, once the popular manager of one of three vaudeville theatres in Portsmouth and Southsea. He was talking during a time when “his” King’s Theatre had stopped live Variety Shows in favour of showing “talkies” with disembodied voices issuing from “tin-canny loud speakers”. Sometimes the papery dialogue sounded like ghosts for they emanated from stars that had once strutted upon the King’s Theatre stage.

No.1 Dressing Room

Charles Clarke spoke from a sad, derelict dead space that had once been the vibrant no.1 Dressing Room. He mused that Henry Irving may have been its first occupant since he had opened the theatre. Later, his mind turned to the last visit of the great comedienne Marie Lloyd shortly before her death in 1922:

“Though she could then do little more than walk slowly from the top of the stage to the footlights, and leaning on her long black wand, sing her saucy songs in her own inimitable manner, every word could be heard, albeit her voice was little more than a whisper. Despite the evidence of continued popularity, she apparently had the impression that she was losing power, and had the dread of becoming a back number.

By Friday night she had summoned sufficient courage to attempt a new song., but warned the audience that she would probably “dry up” – and she did!

In all probability the audience was as nervous as she, and thoroughly sympathetic when her memory failed half way through the first verse.
With a little laugh she stopped the orchestra. “Start again, cocky,” she murmured to the Musical Director, and she went merrily away with the first public performance of the last of her many successful songs: ‘I’m one of the ruins that Cromwell knocked about a bit”.

[edashtav]

The Show Must Go On Whatever the Conjugation in the Congregation

Conductors usually have their backs to their audience. Reaction from their rear can cause incomprehension and even lost of a beat or two. I recall the first time forty years ago when I conducted our School's Carol Festival. I was high on a rostrum in front of an orchestra of 30 and a choir of about 50. I was wearing a lounge suit and my trousers were held up, I thought, by braces. My conducting style in those youthful days was energetic tending towards frenetic. I did notice "titters off" during the most energetic carols but thought the parents were frolicsome. Later, Les, a senior colleague, took me on one side to explain their mirth," Your trousers were bouncing up and down, Ed revealing your red pants, parents were wondering if your trews would get stuck under your buttocks, permanently putting your bloomers on show."

Nottingham Evening Post 25th August 1913

SPA CONCERT INTERRUPTED BY SWEETHEARTS

A misunderstanding as to the cause of laughter in the Spa Hall, Scarborough, led to the conductor stopping the band.

The band had been driven by rain in the course of a concert from the outside bandstand to the hall. Not so a couple of lovers, who had taken a seat just over the roof of the hall, which is level with one of the upper walks of the Spa Gardens.

The band had just started to play “Love’s old sweet song” when the two lovers were observed by the audience seated on the sill outside, their forms being silhouetted on the glass.

The solo instrumentalist had reached a tender passage when the couple were seen to give each other a kiss.
The audience was convulsed with laughter to the bewilderment of the conductor and soloist, neither of whom was aware of the love episode.
Another kiss provoked another outburst of laughter.
The soloist stopped playing, and the conductor put down his baton.
When they learned the reason for the merriment from a member of the audience they resumed the playing of “Love’s old sweet song” amid applause from the audience.

[edashtav]

The Show With a Premature End

Western Daily Press Tuesday 28 October 1902

In a column quoting from “letters to the editor”:

“A.R.B.” complains that a certain proportion of local audiences at concerts interrupt the enjoyment of the remainder by leaving the room before the completion of the programme.
He instances a case in point and asks: “Why not print one or two bogus items at the end of the programme so that the stampede shall be accompanied by the strains of the National Anthem.”

Perhaps, ARB had this type of programme in mind:

J.Strauss II - Polka Bitte schön! Op. 372, If You Please!
Beethoven – Symphony no. 9 in D minor “the Choral”
Haydn – “Farewell” (Symphony no. 45 in F# minor)
Cage (arr. P. Brookes) 4” 33’ for soli, chorus & orchestra (first performance of this version with elastic scoring)
Shostakovich – Tea For Two (Tahiti Trot)

[edashtav]

Has Anyone Got The Score?

Here's another story from hornspieler taken from his days as a fledging horn-player:

The British government declared the year 1951 to be a “Festival of Britain”
A big exhibition was built on the South Bank of the River Thames between County Hall and Waterloo Bridge and included a new Concert Hall, named The Royal Festival Hall.

The War was over. Britain was getting back on to its feet and new enterprises and entertainments were opened to enliven those post-war years with their restrictions and shortages.

One such enterprise was Anton Dolin and Alicia Markova’s founding of a Ballet Company; called, appropriately, “London’s Festival Ballet” and, later, “The London Festival Ballet”

The orchestra was formed mainly from those musicians who had done sterling work in the two London orchestras (London Symphony Orchestra and BBC Symphony) during the wartime years but whose jobs were now surrendered by government decree to ex-servicemen who had been former holders of those orchestral posts..

So, there was a lot of experience among the members of that new orchestra and more than one famous name from the pre-war years.

The very first performance by the Festival Ballet took place in London's Stoll Theatre in Kingsway:

The Artistes’ entrance was at the rear of the barn-like building and very adjacent to the local Public House. In that hostelry, a bell was connected to the theatre’s “Performance due to recommence” bell so that the musicians, most of whom were experienced trenchermen, could be summoned back to the orchestra pit.

What was I, an eighteen year old novice, doing in that company of old hands?
Well, the conductor, Bryan Balkwil, was a professor at the Royal Academy of Music, and there was, it appeared , a shortage of horn players. So I was offered the contract (4th horn) and duly took my place amongst the others, including during those interval breaks.


Les Sylphides and Spectre de la Rose went without a hitch but the stage-hands were experiencing problems with the scenery and the interval which followed had already extended to forty minutes before the orchestra were recalled to the pit.
By this time, of course, the audience of balletomanes who were getting crochety waiting for Stravinsky's Petrushka.

Then, the conductor came into the orchestra pit and realized, immediately, that he had left his orchestral score in his dressing room. A member of the orchestra was sent to fetch it and conductor, orchestra and audience waited … and waited.

Eventually, Mr Balkwill realised that he would have to find the errant score, himself, and left the pit again.

The audience's boredom was now turning to an ugly restlessness but the situation was defused by a `well-oiled' member of the woodwind section who leapt to his feet and shouted out, “Half time -- no score!”

[edashtav]

The Show Cannot Go On Until You Settle!

Given the number of parts in a symphony orchestra, I think it's remarkable that there are not more mishaps. Here's an example of quick-thinking from a conductor to ensure that the "Show Went On":

Burnley News Saturday 8th December 1923

At a symphony orchestra concert recently the copies got mixed and one part of the orchestra commenced a totally different piece to the other. As the weird noise broke on the conductor, he tapped the desk for them to stop. Turning round to the auditorium he watched some latecomers get to their seats, and then turning to the orchestra, he named the piece they were to play. The audience naturally thought the stoppage was on their account, and took the supposed reprimand very quietly.

[Serial_Apologist]

Marie Lloyd

Arthur Askey told a wonderful story about when Marie Lloyd was doing the theatre rounds, and put in an appearance at a Glasgow venue notorious for hostile receptions meted out to artistes who were not to the regulars' likings.

A short way into her act, cries to get off the stage began erupting, quickly rising to a huge din, above which, one voice from the back could be heard above all the others, saying, "GIVE THE COW A CHANCE!" This brought silence, and Ms Lloyd responded, "Thank you, kind sir; I'm glad to see there's ONE gentleman in the audience"!

[edashtav]

Arthur Askey [...] Marie Lloyd

"Ay-Thang-Yaw" [AA]

[edashtav]

The Audience Advances

Here's another tale from hornspieler taken from his days as a fledging horn-player:

The British government declared the year 1951 to be a “Festival of Britain”
[...] See post #66
By this time, of course, the audience of balletomanes who were getting crochety waiting for Stravinsky's Petrushka.

Then, the conductor came into the orchestra pit and realized, immediately, that he had left his orchestral score in his dressing room. A member of the orchestra was sent to fetch it and conductor, orchestra and audience waited … and waited.

Eventually, Mr Balkwill realised that he would have to find the errant score, himself, and left the pit again.

The audience's boredom was now turning to an ugly restlessness but the situation was defused by a `well-oiled' member of the woodwind section who leapt to his feet and shouted out, “Half time -- no score!”

Hornspieler has sent me an AFTERWORD from his favourite comic: Harry Worth :

“…I don’t mind if the audience start walking out (shudder)
It’s when they start coming towards you!” (yikes)