Snow White Begins (Excerpt 4.) By Tracey Vale

(The following is an excerpt from the beginning of this chapter.)

The dwarfs were already assembled and waiting when I walked on to the stage of Sydney’s Her Majesty’s Theatre. Having already rehearsed and performed the show in Adelaide, with an Australian actor as Snow White, they were not impressed at having to start over with a new lead. Prior to this, they had worked in the London production of Snow White and had already started over with the Australian production. It meant they had to start rehearsals again despite knowing the show back to front. When they saw me, blonde and a petite five feet, they were even less impressed.

The dwarf playing the part of Happy looked anything but his namesake. Looking from me to Tibor, he said, “She doesn’t look like Snow White.” It was clear that the others felt the same way. Even the director said “Oh, terrific—I’ve got eight dwarfs!”

“Vait,” said Tibor, nodding assuredly. “You vill see.”

An appointment was made with a hairdresser to dye my hair black. It was then cut and styled in the tradition of Disney’s famed character. Finished off with a ribbon headband, it was an amazing transformation. The next time I walked across the stage, complete with heels, the dwarfs were satisfied but were still yet to be convinced.

“See,” Tibor had said, as I walked in. “Make very good Snow White!”

The next hurdle to overcome was the music. I couldn’t reach the incredibly high notes of ‘Someday My Prince Will Come’ and requested that it be transposed in a lower key.

“Oh no. Not possible,” said Tibor. “It has to be in the same key as it is a Disney production. Cannot be changed. You vill have to sing it zat high.”

A Long Trip Downunder (Excerpt 3.) By Tracey Vale

(The following is an excerpt from the beginning of a chapter dealing with a trip to Australia and Joan's subsequent appointment as Snow White.)

Chesney Allen had sent me to audition for the Australian production of My Fair Lady. My audition was successful and I was on to the next stage—another audition to decide between myself, Julie Anthony and one other candidate. I was concerned, however, that there wasn’t a part for Paul and couldn’t imagine going so far away without him or having him out of work when he was enjoying so much work here in the U.K. and abroad. I’d expressed my concerns to Chesney but he was unable to make any guarantees or to secure a part for Paul. On the basis of this, I turned down the deciding audition and the part went to Julie Anthony.

Only a number of weeks later, Chesney offered me another role in Australia. This time he assured me that Paul would also be employed.

“Do you want to go to Australia this time?” asked Chesney. “It’s a 16-week contract for both of you.” We had just finished the contract working with Adam faith and were in his office to negotiate the next, so it wasn’t a difficult decision, especially as it involved Paul.

“Yes—we’ll go,” I said.

“Great—only you’ll need to book a berth on the Orcades. It’s sailing this week!” he announced. “You’ll be working for Tibor Rudas. Don’t know much about it…” He rummaged through some paper-work on his desk, glanced over a hand-written note and said, “He saw you, Joan, playing Cinderella. He was very impressed. I explained that Paul had to be part of the package and he readily agreed to those terms.” Looking at the note again, he located a notepad and scribbled down the relevant address. “You’ll need to disembark in Sydney and meet Tibor at his office there.”

More Stage Work / Adam Faith Tour (Excerpt 2.)

(The following is an excerpt, the end of a chapter concerning Summer revues and touring with Adam Faith.)

Due to her tireless efforts, there had been a great deal of publicity surrounding Adam. His every move was choreographed for this tour and interviews were written for him. He was involved in many photo shoots arranged by his agent and created to instill popular opinion about his character.

One evening, before the show, I waved the newspaper at him as he came towards us. “When have you had time to ride around on horses?” I asked.

He laughed sheepishly. Taking the paper he read out the caption beneath a photograph of him astride a horse. “’Adam loves to get up early and go horse riding’,” he laughed again. Glancing up at Paul and I, he said “I was bloody scared! I’d never been on a horse before! It’s all supposed to build this appealing image to make the girls go crazy.”

And crazy they were. Every night, outside the theatres we toured in with Adam, there were crowds of girls gathered. Shouts rang out, “We want Adam! We want Adam!” After the show, he would be mobbed again by crowds at the stage door. He hated it, so we devised a plan to get him out each night, unnoticed. We had a large basket, a skip, we used for transporting all the puppets, props and costumes. Between Paul and I and anyone else we could rope in, we had him bundled into the skip and carried him out to waiting transport without anyone being the wiser.

References

http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0265693/bio

Cited 17/6/2013

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/2832221.stm

Cited 17/6/2013

http://www.bradfordtimeline.co.uk/mindex60g.htm

Cited 17/6/2013. Adam Faith article, Brighton Hippodrome appearance.

www.hippodromebristol.co.uk/page9.html (Scroll down below the photos and view the date.) Cited 17/6/2013

Germany (Excerpt only. 1.) By Tracey Vale

(The following is an excerpt only and is the end of the chapter on Germany. The chapter deals with the War Office tour in Germany and includes Joan's experience while being shown through the Bergen Belsen Concentration Camp.)

Continuing on, our footsteps echoed in the silence as we entered a massive storage room. In a grim reminder that they remained unclaimed, a mountain of suitcases towered toward the lofty ceiling. They were stacked haphazardly in a corner—looking more like a bizarre contemporary art piece in a resonant space. They spoke volumes.

As well as the officer, a German man accompanied us on this grim tour of the camp. He was from the town of Belsen and had witnessed the death march as these impoverished people made their way to the camp. He had been contributing various facts to us in extension of what the British officer was telling us, including verifying that the lamp in the doctor’s office was believed to have been made from the skin of a prisoner and that there were many more like it as part of the Nazi’s medical experimentation at the time.

I turned to him now. “Why didn’t the people in the village of Belsen know what was going on?” I asked.

  

“They did,” he spoke quietly and with some difficulty as his English was very limited. “Some people helped very much.” Pausing, he looked as though he was recalling something or someone. “You know little man?” He asked, gesturing with his hand below hip height.

“Do you mean ‘dwarf’?” I asked.

“Yes! Very little and very thin like this,” he moved his hands closer to indicate a narrow person.

“Ah—a midget. Turner’s Syndrome,” I explained.

The man agreed and went on to tell us how this German ‘midget’, a very kind man who lived in Belsen, risked his life time after time to deliver food portions to the abhorrently impoverished inmates of the first Bergen-Belsen camp. He would crawl through the water pipes with his offerings, a difficult and highly risky exercise. The man didn’t know what had become of him but I can only hope that his sacrifices were met with just reward. He had chosen to take action in a situation where many wouldn’t, and didn’t. Where many considered they were unable to help, that there was nothing they could do, this man knew he could, regardless of how small that assistance may have seemed. He is, or was, one of those unsung heroes.

References

http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/2008/aug/18/2

Cited 11/6/2013

http://www.library.gatech.edu/holocaust/bergendes.htm

Cited 13/6/2013

http://worldhistoryproject.org/1945/4/15/bergen-belsen-concentration-camp-is-liberated-by-british-forces

Cited 13/6/2013

http://www.ushmm.org/wlc/en/article.php?ModuleId=10005224

Cited 13/6/2013

http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/judaica/ejud_0002_0003_0_02647.html

Cited 13/6/2013

http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/Holocaust/Belsen.html

Cited 14/6/2013

Shenanigans with Dave Gray, By Tracey Vale

Ugly Dave Gray, whose real name is Graham David Taylor, was a professional comedian and part-time prankster. We worked with Dave in summer reviews and laughed often at his on-stage as well as off-stage antics.

Staying in theatrical digs he would incense the owner with his frequent pranks. On one memorable night, around midnight, he yelled out, “Paul! Joan! Come to my room—I’ve stolen eggs from the kitchen!” This was followed shortly by the owner bellowing, "Who took the eggs?"

On another occasion we were staying in rooms that were freezing. It was a seaside town where winter guests were a rarity. There was a heater in the downstairs hallway, but nothing at all to keep us warm in our rooms. Dave charged downstairs once the owner had turned in and unplugged the heater from the wall before lugging it noisily upstairs. “Here we go,” he announced, at the top of the stairs. “Let’s get some warmth up here!” But, before long and having heard the less than conspicuous commotion, the landlord was charging up the stairs, his dressing-gown billowing behind him.

“Watcha think you’re doing? Get that back downstairs!” Before waiting for him to do as he’d demanded, the landlord wrenched the heater from Dave and carried it awkwardly back downstairs, huffing and muttering as he went.

“Okay, what now?” Dave looked around for inspiration, then returned to his room as though an idea had suddenly come to him. Following him and wondering what his next antic was, we witnessed him wrestling the timber drawers out of the wardrobe. Walking to his open door, he banged them loudly together before yelling out down the hallway, “It’s okay! I’m lighting a fire in my room with this old wardrobe!” Again, the landlord came running…

While performing with another company, Dave contacted my mother, asking if he could call in for a ‘cuppa’ as he was travelling nearby. Mum said she’d love to see him and, before long, there was a knock on the door. There stood Dave, along with the entire bus load of actors walking towards her.

We heard about this latest antic while on another Combined Services tour—this time to Germany.

Back to work, By Tracey Vale

I was soon back into the full swing of performances. Paul and I were booked in, thanks to Chesney Allen, to the Finsbury Park Empire Theatre in London with the puppet act. We were to perform there for a week and had heard that a well-known talent scout, Cissie Williams, was a frequent member of the audience. She only scouted the number one theatres and was known for her professional eye. Actors who toured with her ‘top of the bill’ variety show would also become well known, hence a position in her line up was highly sought.

We had also heard that she loved royal blue and were quick to have new costumes made up in this colour. Backstage on the third night there were feverish whispers “She’s here, she’s here! Do your best!”. Thankfully, she loved our act and that night became the beginning of a new round of bookings with her show. We were booked for the top theatres in England, Scotland, often as far as Aberdeen, and Ireland. We returned regularly for repeat performances in the variety shows and also continued to do summer reviews and pantomimes. Life was a whirlwind but we loved it.

Soon we were travelling overseas once again with the War Office. Accommodation was varied and hotels, depending on the political situation in the area, would often be empty. We were not allowed to stay on the military camps, although we would perform for at least two nights at each camp, before travelling on to the next.

Rehearsals

This time, while in Cyprus, the hotels were vacant and, as a result, we had been booked into one of the most luxurious. It was a frightening time, however, as it was just after the assassination of a British army wife—murdered in cold blood as she, along with her daughter and another army wife, stepped out of a bridal store in the main street after choosing the daughter’s bridal gown.

Since 1955, the Greek Cypriots undertook guerrilla warfare in an effort to gain independence from Britain, after being informed by the super power that this would not be granted. Their aim to gain independence by violent means was also a result of the British Middle East headquarters having been moved to Cyprus at the end of 1954, signalling a level of permanence that rang alarm bells.

In November of 1955, five British military men had been killed in one week. By December the following year, British troops numbered 20 000 and, at the height of the conflict for independence, troop levels were at 40 000. It was probable that some of the troops we entertained in Kenya and Egypt were billeted at the various camps here as the crisis in both of these countries had come to an end, with surplus troops sent to assist in Cyprus.

It was a war of propaganda, with leaflets dropped regularly by both sides. The British leaflets proclaimed that the EOKA were terrorists, while the EOKA stood their ground as patriots. Both sides printed leaflets that were both graphic, such as a photograph of a murdered man bent over in a pool of blood, and derogatory.

1958 began with rioting in Nicosia. By April, a general strike brought the island to a standstill. Fifty bombs were dropped by EOKA in the first 10 days of April. Rioting culminated in a battle between British soldiers and Turkish youth, resulting in the deaths of seven Turks and the injury of 12 soldiers.

In August, while walking with his two-year-old son down the main shopping street of Nicosia, Ledra Street, Sergeant Hammond was shot and killed. In October, the street was nicknamed ‘the murder mile’, following the death of Mrs. Catherine Cutliffe. It was little wonder that British Command placed so much restriction on our movements.

It was October 3. Catherine, the wife of a senior NCO, her 18-year-old daughter Margaret and Elfriede Robinson, a young German national married to a British sergeant, stepped out of a bridal store after choosing Margaret’s gown. Gunshots were fired by two EOKA men, killing Catherine outright and injuring Elfriede.

The British troops in Cyprus were enraged and called for the interrogation of Greek Cypriot males over the age of 16. They were taken by force and rounded up in a camp at Karaolos. A number of Cypriots died as a result of the ‘rounding up’ and many were injured. More riots had broken out with a number of vehicles burnt out and shop windows smashed, the contents stolen. We arrived in the midst of the furor.

It felt strange to have an entire hotel to ourselves and the restrictions on our movements—warnings sent to us each morning from British Command—were more confining than

Cape Greco 'Theatre', Cyprus

previously experienced. The soldiers spoke of the assassination with bitterness and anger and we felt their resentment. The knowledge of this recent event was frightening and contrasted with the beauty that was Cyprus, including its wonderful orange blossom that seemed to fragrance the air wherever we went. It is a beautiful island that has suffered so much conflict.

Despite this, thankfully, we were able to perform there without incidence. We travelled, as before, escorted with armed soldiers and remembered to get down onto the floor while passing through villages.

(Incidentally, while doing a talk in the Adelaide suburb of Elizabeth a few years ago, I spoke of the Combined Services Tour and, once finished, a voice rang out from the back of the room. “Where is Kyrenia Castle?” the man asked. Immediately I responded with “Cyprus”, and was delighted to hear the same voice say, “And, yes, I was one of the boys listening to you sing as we sat on the hill outside the castle!”. I spoke to him afterwards and learnt that he'd been there as a very young soldier, conscripted at 18. "We were so scared. We were young kids and you people performing for us...it was something from home.” He went on to say "I remembered your voice when you started to speak. I have such memories of when you came out to perform to us.")

We did many trips back to Cyprus, Malta, Gibraltar, Libya, Kenya, Nairobi and Malaya.

Sudan also featured in our itinerary—but only as a stopover. As meals were not served on the plane, we would land in Wadi Harpa, a small airstrip with a barrack-style hotel, for nourishment and, once or twice, for a night’s rest. My first view of Sudan from the plane reminded me of a Peter O’Toole film—a desert scene with Arabs dressed in white robes astride camels. On the roof of the hotel, were dozens of dark, aggressive-looking vultures, waiting to scavenge their next meal. I didn’t like the thought of soon walking beneath them.

Upon disembarking, we were ushered in by the Arabs, their camels standing idly by. Often it was a breakfast meal as we left either Kenya or Malta, depending upon which direction we were travelling, at the ungodly hour of five in the morning. Despite the Peter O’Toole scene, what greeted us inside was a fabulous spread of a full English breakfast with the potential to keep us sustained for the rest of the day. Returning from Kenya, we stayed overnight in the hotel, which was very comfortable although small and very basic.

El Adem was another very memorable stopover, and not a particularly welcome

A makeshift theatre

one. We were forced to stay here for almost a week due to a sandstorm which made visibility impossible. El Adem, situated about 30 kilometres out from the Libyan port city of Tobruk on the eastern Mediterranean coast, was a Royal Air Force camp where the main operation was the testing of jets, maintenance and refuelling. We stayed in the military cabins on narrow cots. El Adem, meaning 'the end' in Arabic, lived up to its name and most, if not all, of those stationed there agreed with the sentiment in that name. It was surrounded by dry, sandy desert and we had nothing to do but talk. If we ventured outside, the hot wind was fierce and sand gusted and whistled wildly around us, irritating our eyes and filling our hair. We were relieved to awaken on the sixth day to relative silence and knew that we could continue our journey.

Tobruk was memorable for its many reminders of World War Two. While the harbour town was neat, although virtually treeless, with its many two-storey buildings and wide streets lined with low, concrete walls, many of the war-time trenches were still in evidence. Burnt out tanks could be seen every now and then on our way into Tobruk and camels had been blown up by the many landmines left behind.

Back home, and the whirlwind began again. Working in Cissie William’s variety show, and travelling again, we were working with top of the bill entertainers including Benny Hill, Norman Wisdom and Harry Seacombe. It was around this time that we began working with Dave Gray, to be known famously as Ugly Dave Gray, and so began another lasting friendship.

References

www.psywarrior.com/cyprus.html

Cited 5/6/2013

www.britains-smallwars.com/cyprus/Davidcarter/aftercutliffe/aftercutliffe.html

Cited 5/6/2013.

www.britains-smallwars.com/cyprus/war.html

Cited 5/6/2013

Illness in North Africa, By Tracey Vale

I became very ill during the trip through North Africa—a stomach bug that commonly afflicted tourists through these provinces. Unfortunately, I suffered with a severe case of it, making the remainder of the tour extremely difficult although, thankfully, we were near the end. As there were no other doctors or medical facilities available to me, I had to join the sick line with the soldiers. The only thing they could give me, however, and in the mistaken belief that it was a ‘cure-all’, was a penicillin injection, administered with a frighteningly thick needle.

Suffice to say, this had no effect and my condition continued to worsen. Amazingly, I was able to get through the stage shows without incident. I could hear my mother’s voice in my head saying “The show must go on,” and could almost feel her hand on my shoulder blades as she gently pushed me toward the stage. I recalled suffering through that excruciating earache as a child, but still managing to please her as I smiled my way through the performance.

Thinking back, I don’t know how I managed to get through the remainder of the tour and yet still perform every night. It was terrible. As soon as my segment was over I’d discreetly run off the stage. The mind, I think, is a very powerful thing. It’s as if my bowel would say ‘Look, we can’t do anything right now—she’s on stage!’

The day before we were to leave for our next tour stop, a long bus trip on the edge of the desert, the military doctor prescribed a sleeping tablet. With the intention of getting a good, solid and restful night’s sleep before we were due to leave, I took the proffered tablet and had almost nodded off when Alistair appeared beside the bed. He said “I’ve got a tablet that will make you feel better.” He handed me a glass of water with the tablet and waited for me to pass the glass back. I thanked him and, before long, I was in a deep slumber.

“We’re here. Can you wake up or do you want us to carry you again?” It was Paul’s voice. I opened my eyes to see him smiling down at me. Moving my head and awkwardly getting one arm out from under me, I saw that I was lying across a narrow bus seat. As it had transpired, Alistair had given me another sleeping pill without knowing that I’d already taken one. The following morning, Alistair and Paul had bundled me onto the bus and I’d slept on—a total of 12 hours, plus I’d managed to wipe out the entire desert trip.

I was so thin when I got back to England and had to locate a toilet everywhere I went. I was admitted to hospital after seeing my doctor and spent six weeks there. After a number of tests and a trial of medicines, they couldn’t find out what I’d contracted and there was still no improvement. It had infected my large bowel and they said the bowel was ulcerated, hence the pain. After about a month in hospital, the doctor announced “We’re going to have to do a colostomy. The bowel isn’t healing and this is the only way.” He went on to explain that he had scheduled the operation for the following morning.

Later that day, Dad visited and I told him that I was to have an operation and asked if he knew what a colostomy involved. He didn’t, but said he’d find the doctor and ask. The doctor told him that my bowel would be shut off permanently and I would have a bag to collect the bile.

Once told, he said “No! You’re not doing that operation on my daughter.” The doctor explained that I wasn’t responding and the bowel wasn’t healing.

“No,” dad said again. “My daughter’s going to get better without having a bag hanging from her side.”

The doctor sighed and said, “Well, we’ll move her from the surgical ward then. I’m going on holidays tomorrow. We’ll put her into another ward.”

It turned out that this was the best thing he could have done. In his place, I had a marvelous Indian doctor who looked at alternative remedies. In the end, it was a simple solution—a change of diet and a medicine that would stay in my system while it healed. Before long, I had my strength back and was able to step out into a cold, Autumn afternoon, feeling eternally grateful and with a huge sense of freedom after what had seemed like an incarceration.

The illness would continue to dog me throughout my life but I was never again grounded by it as long as I stuck to the Indian doctor’s guidelines.

Our Second British War Office Tour, By Tracey Vale

Again we were busy with our puppet act following the Cinderella pantomime season and had just completed variety shows at the Tower Cinema. We were on our way to our second Combined Services Entertainment Tour with Summer Season booked up upon our return at Broadstairs, followed by Cinderella, to be performed at Croydon. Termed the '10,000 Miles Tour', it was to take in Malta, once again, and, where we covered parts of East Africa previously, we were now to travel through North Africa, including Libya's capital, Tripoli. Finally, we were to fly across the strait to the British Overseas Territory of Gibraltar, located on the southern tip of the Iberian Peninsula and bordered, in the north, by Spain. 

Farewell Act before 10,000 Miles Tour

    'Just before leaving on a 10,000 miles tour of Malta, Tripoli, North Africa and Gibraltar to entertain the troops, well-known puppeteers, Joan and Paul Sharratt called in at the Tower Cinema, Carters Green, on Saturday morning to see their old friend, the manager, Mr. Arthur Taylor, and found time to show some of their characters to two of the children attending the matinee performance, James Houghton (12) of 10, Cygnet Road, and Gillian Sorrel (11), of 17, Albert Street.

    'Joan and Paul, who left this country by air yesterday (Thursday) will be away for seven weeks. They have just finished a run in variety at Bilston's Theatre Royal and when they return they will go to Broadstairs for the summer season. After that, they are due to appear in the pantomime "Cinderella" at Croydon.

    'In December, they returned to this country from Aden and Kenya after a 14,000 mile tour entertaining the troops with comedian, Arthur English.'  

Charles Trentham's Puppet Stage

    'Paul and Joan Sharatt left at the end of last week with their marionettes for a round of group shows in Gibraltar, Tripoli, and Cyprus. This is their second Services entertainment tour in recent months, for, only a week before they went into pantomime at the New Royal, Bournemouth, they had returned from a similar trip to East Africa, to Aden and Kenya. While spending a few days at Nairobi, the Sharratts attended a performance by the Nairobi Puppet Theatre Club of the classic melodrama 'Maria Marten' or 'Murder in the Red Barn'.'

Our first destination was Malta where we performed the first of our 'Laughter and Lovelies' tour. This time the principal comic was the very funny Stanley Baxter who had been doing on-stage impersonations since the age of seven and had seen huge popularity in his native Scotland and in the U.K., with work in variety, pantomimes and BBC television. He was to go on to achieve 'superstar' status with his own lavish weekend television shows on ITV, an accomplishment that was to award him a BAFTA, whilst successfully maintaining a very private home life. We were to be joined on stage with his wife, Moira, as well as Fay Lenore, Alistair McHarg and Tony Bones.

A clipping from Malta (unknown newspaper) 

'Artistes forming the cast of the latest Combined Services Entertainment show to come to Malta,"Laughter and Lovelies", now on its second appearance. Those taking part are Stanley Baxter, Fay Lenore, Alistair McHarg, Moira Baxter, Paul and Joan Sharratt, and Tony Bones.

'Joan Sharratt is a delightful song and dance artist. At the ivories is Tony Bones, a talented and versatile revue and concert pianist. Although in the background, he is singled out by the spotlight.'

Alistair McHarg was well versed in entertaining the troops as he had done so during World War Two. Since then, he'd been cast in variety as an accomplished pianist and singer. He also sang in Britain's first major technicolour film, London Town, in 1948, alongside such greats as Petula Clark and the comic, Sid Field.  He was the youngest of eight sons, all of whom were musical thanks to the efforts of their father, a Salvation Army Bandmaster. Alistair was the pianist on our first Combined Services Tour but had requested, for subsequent tours, that he should come out from behind the piano to sing, as he had a magnificent bass-baritone voice, and to act. 

As a result, Tony Bones accompanied us as the pianist. Tony, also known as Anthony Bowles or 'The Ant', had studied at London's Royal Academy of Music and had worked with the composer, Benjamin Britten, later becoming the pianist for a number of ballet companies including the Stuttgart Ballet. He was to become a leading composer and director and would write scores for television and films such as The Odessa File and was to compose in productions of Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice musicals.


He was a very funny man and kept us entertained with anecdotes of his antics that had us in stitches. One such story was to do with one of his extra curricular money earning endeavours. It was common for actors or musicians to do promotional work in between professional gigs and he'd responded to a toothpaste company's advertisement. They had asked for anyone who owned a white mini to have a giant tube of toothpaste attached to the top so that they could drive around the island of Eros, drawing attention to and promoting their product. Anthony turns up on the designated day and ends up being the last in line to have the tube fitted to the roof--thus making him car number 20. They were each given a map of the area they were to drive around, all beginning at the nearby roundabout. When it was finally Anthony's turn to take-off, he'd made it only halfway around the roundabout when a police officer pulled him over. Winding the window down, he was greeted with the officer puffing exasperatedly, "How many times are you going to  go around this bloody roundabout?!"

So, along with the acting talents of Moira Baxter and the soubrette talents of Fay Lenore, we were, all in all, a talented bunch. Stanley Baxter was hilarious and we were to learn so much from him. Rehearsing for one of the skits, Paul and Alistair were monkeying about in ballet costumes when Stanley called them to attention.

"No, no! That's not how it's done. You're not to act as though you're idiots in a ballet, you need to pretend as though you really are seasoned ballerinas," he coached. "Don't do it silly. Do it as if you are the best ballet dancers in the world." The difference was remarkable and so much funnier! He was so talented and was always right in his advice. There are little tricks that he taught me that I have since used repeatedly in teaching my students. He had one particular line in the show that wasn't funny but, the way he said it, always got a roar from the audience. His use of 'the pause' is one of the tips I teach my students. After explaining it to one of my classes one day, I finished with "I was (pause) adopted."

"Oh! Were you really, Miss Leslie?" asked one of the children, with a look of great sympathy on his face. He's a wonderful performer who has left his mark and I'm grateful to have worked with him.

Our tour in Malta was well received and we found the island to be beautiful. We stayed in the Astra Hotel, a six-storey limestone building on a rocky, coastal edge. We toured Valetta, with its old, tall buildings--also built from the locally-quarried limestone as was characteristic of all the buildings and houses here--and narrow streets. We spent our 'off time' in outdoor seaside cafes or feeding the many pigeons in the open square.

Libya followed and was full of the most memorable moments of our second tour. Again, the British troops were grateful for our efforts and our shows were met with much applause and laughter. We took in Tobruk, a small town on the coast of northeast Libya, and Benghazi, Libya's second largest city. It was here that Alistair hoped to find closure on the death of his brother who went missing during World War Two. He was a pilot and was believed to have been shot down somewhere near Benghazi.

He hoped to find a record of him at the Benghazi cemetery, one of the largest of its type in the area. With a day off, Alistair, Paul and I set off to explore the cemetery records with him. What we discovered was a sea of white tombstones, widely spaced and seeming to stretch over miles of flat, treeless land, appearing to stretch for miles into the desert. A sergeant, who was also the live-in caretaker, opened the huge gates and we were ushered toward a tiny cottage.

Alistair explained the reason for our visit and the sergeant assured him that we could search the records. "But first," he said. "I'll just get you to sign the visitor's book."

From inside a column, he drew out the book and, opening to a well-worn page, showed us the signatures of Laurel and Hardy. "Without fail," he said. "They send money every year in memory of the fallen soldiers here." The sergeant spoke in a quiet, gentle tone and it was obvious that he cared and felt humbled and honoured at the same time.  The cemetary was specifically for the British soldiers and, just a short distance down the road, was another Benghazi War Cemetery for locals and others.

We signed our names and waited while he selected the record books. After taking down details of name and rank, he opened it to the right section. But, searching through, we discovered that there was no record of his brother. Alistair sighed heavily and accepted the Sergeant's proffered cup of tea gratefully.

Seeing that the late afternoon light was deepening, the Sergeant glanced at his watch and said, "Excuse me, I won't keep you long but there's something I have to do." With that, he stood up and walked quickly to the door and down the two steps. We followed, curious and stood at the open door. The sergeant had stopped before the first row of headstones and was silhouetted by the dipping orange of the sun.

"Goodnight boys. God bless you, one and all." It was a touching scene and an emotional moment. I said this to the sergeant after he'd turned and walked back to us.

"I wouldn't miss a morning to greet them, nor a night to wish them well. They were all so young," he said. Leaving the cemetery, Alistair felt disheartened but we all felt a sense of peace for the buried there. 

How comforting for the mothers of those sons if they knew there was someone there looking over them and who obviously cared for these boys who were buried so far from home, I thought, staring out at the vast desert landscape on the drive back to the hotel.

That night, the first of our concerts in Benghazi, we found the officers and their wives, or one in particular, to be hysterical and more than a little crazy. Before we'd begun, the Commander's wife, who was dressed to the nines in evening wear and dripping with jewels, approached us. She spoke with a thickly posh accent. "Oh, I am so-o-o looking forward to the sho-o-o-w," she drawled, making her way to the couches that formed the officer's front row.

We mixed with the officers after the show and the Commander's wife made an immediate beeline for us.

"Bloody good sho-o-o-w," she drawled again. "Lo-o-o-ved the chorus girls." 

The five of us looked at each other as she shimmied away, biting our lips so as not to laugh until she was well out of earshot. "Chorus girls?!" said Alistair, shaking his head. There were only the five of us in the show, certainly not enough people for a chorus, let alone a row of chorus girls.

Paul and I left earlier that night and were greeted the next day by a knock on the door. I opened it to see a very tired-looking Alistair standing there.

"What a night!" He said, stepping into our suite. "They had me there 'til three in the morning! I kept saying I needed to get back, when, finally, one of the officers agreed to drive me back to the hotel." He took a sip of the coffee I'd poured him and continued on. "They're a crazy lot! They've lost their heads. He says to me 'I know a shortcut--we'll cut through here'. So he takes this shiny car through one of those narrow streets, built only just wide enough for a horse and small cart, and it's scraping and grinding against the rock walls on either side! Didn't phase 'im either! He just kept going and none of the other officers in the car even seemed to notice. You should've seen the car by the end of it!"

The following night we were to mingle with the other ranks after the show and had decided to work the subject of the officers into the conversation. We asked casually what was their opinion of them and received the satisfying response. "Oh--crazy! The lot of 'em!"

Continuing our stay in Libya, we took in the sights of the ancient Roman town of Leptis Magna on the Mediterranean coast and about 100 kilometres southeast of Tripoli. Through an archway, we took in a massive circular auditorium of stone steps rising high above the enclosed arena below. The sea formed the back-drop of a tiered stage area, complete with dozens of tall columns. It was not a tourist attraction at the time of our visit and was empty apart from a handful of Arab men working there. They'd uncovered pieces of ancient mosaics, china and coins and assured us we could take whatever we wanted--an invitation we would not expect today! “Oh yes—take those...and those," they said, pressing coins and broken china into our hands.

References

http://www.televisionheaven.co.uk/stanley_baxter.htm

http://www.thestage.co.uk/features/obituaries/2005/05/alistair-mcharg/

http://www.artistswithaids.org/artforms/music/catalogue/bowles.html

A darkened stage, By Tracey Vale

We returned from Kenya to our homeland with only a week to spare before Will Hammer's production of Cinderella was to begin. I was back to performing 'Disney style', with full, petticoated gowns  replacing the modern ballgowns and we were thrown into the cold of a British winter after the often relentless heat of Africa.

I was interviewed for an article promoting Bournemouth’s Cinderella, just prior to the show opening. It featured a number of photographs and gave a lighthearted account of the fitting of the glass slipper. Audiences filled the theatre night after night and I was loving every moment.

I felt truly blessed to be playing Cinderella and to have had the security and enjoyment as a soubrette in summer shows. The costumes and sets were beautiful and the theatre was huge and with the typical grandeur of a number one theatre. I felt so at home there.

In the mornings, I loved to walk onto the darkened stage alone. With only the slight echo of my footsteps, I would then stand at centre stage and look out over the shadowy depths of empty, expectant seats. Only thin wisps of light glowed from  the exit signs. A hush fell as my footsteps faded. “Magic,” I thought, every time. Years later I read an account of this very same feeling in a book about Noel Coward. He liked to do the same thing and felt an awing sense of how special it was to stand alone on a darkened stage in contrast to what it was to become on performance nights.

Kenya and the Mau Mau, By Tracey Vale

The Mau Mau, were an anti-colonial group who instigated the rebellion, known as the Mau Mau Uprising, in 1952. Rebel leader, Deden Kimathi, was captured on October 21, 1956, only two weeks  before our arrival in Kenya. His capture signalled defeat for the Mau Mau and the end to the British military campaign against the rebellion.

One of the soldiers told us that Kimathi had been found in the jungle and was wearing a tiger skin as a disguise. We had also been informed that the Mau Mau were highly dangerous and that, before retiring for the night, we should shift heavy furniture behind the doors of our rooms for added protection. As we travelled, we saw many villages burnt out and were informed that this was the work of the Mau Mau. We also heard terrifying stories of killings and torture.

Despite the claim that the rebellion was over, however, the Mau Mau  continued to be oppressed by colonisation and were yet to have their original grievances met. They were forced to remain in concentration camps, termed a policy of ‘villagisation’ by the British Government where they were to be rehabilitated, or so the British propaganda went. In truth, they were held in huge camps surrounded by fences and barbed wire. Deep trenches surrounded each camp with barbs in their bases. Diseases spread quickly under unsanitary conditions and malnutrition and torture were rife.

Land reform was still necessary and the economic grievances, such as this, still failed to be acknowledged, let alone met. It was Kenya’s fertile land that attracted the British to Kenya in the 1890’s, with rebellion for land reform occurring from that time on. The Mau Mau uprising followed a series of revolts caused by oppression of its original inhabitants. Land had been allocated in such a way as to give Europeans the most, with limited amounts left for the inhabitants, forcing them to continue to be lowly paid workers, unable to better their position.

The Mau Mau seemed to be everywhere in Kenya and we continued to be ‘on guard’ as per our warnings. We travelled a lot, even by train from Nairobi to Mombassa and saw a great deal of the country.

We did some shows in Mombassa on a makeshift stage near the beach. There was a tent allocated as our dressing room and we were warned that we had more to fear than rebel Mau Mau. We were told “Watch out for snakes and Mombassa trains!”

“Mombassa trains?” we’d asked, having just arrived on one that seemed perfectly safe.

“No, no!” A soldier informed us. “These are huge centipedes.”

It was not long before we saw one—and they were indeed huge. The tent became inundated with them and we had to shake out costumes thoroughly before donning them, with centipedes flying out with each swish of fabric.

Moving on again, we stayed near Nakura, in motel-style accommodation and soon discovered that the actor, Victor Mature, was also staying there. Nicknamed ‘The Hunk’, Mature was a leading American actor who had become one of Hollywood’s busiest since World War Two with starring roles in My Darling Clementine; Kiss of Death; Samson and Delilah and The Egyptian, among others.

As he stayed holed up in his room unless he was filming, the army boys wanted to force him out. They thought it would be hilarious sport to have the man who usually portrayed powerful and fearless characters, to be fooled into the opposite extreme. We were duly warned that a mock attack was to take place to test the so-called fearless film star. That night, pretending to be Mau Mau rebels, a group of soldiers stormed, banging, shouting and crashing outside the back of his room. We witnessed the result through a gap in our curtains, stifling laughter at the sight of the six-foot-two man racing out of his room in a terrified frenzy and running, screaming for help, in a white night-shirt.

Following our return home to England, we were interviewed about our experiences in Kenya. The article was as follows:

'The Sharratts were subject to a certain amount of danger from Mau Mau, especially during their trip through the Baharti Forest, which some girls in there party elected not to undertake.

'One remote base was Gil Gil (Windy) inhabited by 98 men. Ninety-six soldiers saw their show--the other two had to remain on guard."

'"In all these bases," said Paul, "There was a great spirit. It gave us a good feeling of doing something worthwhile."

'"After the show we would go to the messes for parties, which usually lasted all night and during which the show started all over again."

'One day their bathing costumes were stolen--by monkeys. The monkeys took the costumes from a verandah on their seafront bungalow, then buried them in the back garden.

'Paul and Joan are both from Walsall. Both are 24 and their puppet act has been going strong for three years.'

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mau_Mau_Uprising

http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001514/bio