Summer Revues and Pantomimes, By Tracey Vale

Babes in the Wood

Performances continued at the Alexandra Theatre with my role as a Babe being the more prominent one. Roles in pantomimes such as Robin Hood followed, with each pantomime season beginning at the end of the year and running into the New Year. The 1948/1949 season saw me as Boy Babe in another production of Babes in the Wood at The Grand Theatre Wolverhampton, followed by another season in Birmingham.

It was at this time that Dorothy had achieved her makeover of me and Madame Lehmiski soon saw fit to promote me to Head Girl—something she hadn’t considered when I looked and dressed like a twelve-year-old. Mum’s resistance to the change in me soon metamorphosed from the initial upsetting surprise to acceptance and realisation that it was right—that I would still obtain roles but in a different form, and one more suited to my age.

As Head Girl of the Lehmiski performances, I was 17 and very young to be given the responsibility but Madame reassured me.

“I trust you,” she said, in her warm but no-nonsense way.

 At Madame Lehmiski's Theatre School

In April, Madame sent myself and three other girls for two weeks with a repertory company, also at The Grand Theatre in Wolverhampton. We were always honoured and excited to be chosen to join a professional repertory company and learned so much from those involved.

The first day of rehearsals, I noticed a new stage hand who looked to be about my age. He was busily sweeping the stage in readiness and, later, assisted us back-stage. His name was Paul Sharratt and, I gleaned from talking to him in my breaks that he dreamed of working on the stage. "But not like this", he assured me. He wanted, more than anything, to be one of the performers and he was determined to do anything to get there.

It was to his parent’s utter chagrin that he left his private school education at St. Chads well before graduating. They felt that they he was throwing away the investment they had made in his education to pursue something that was a 'pie in the sky', but he would not be deterred and left the school against their wishes. He knocked on theatre doors asking for work, believing that he could achieve his dream as long as he could gain an entry into theatre life. A position as a stage-hand certainly wasn't what he ultimately wanted to do but he didn't plan to stay in that position for long.

The theatre meant that he was there amongst performers, stage managers, agents, costumes, comedians, dancers, singers and could soak up the atmosphere. He was amongst the hustle of rehearsals, stage directions, scene changes, lighting and sound and the tangible excitement of first-night performances, with the audience waiting expectantly to be transported and entertained.

Without the theatre school background and experience of all the actors, comedians, singers and dancers, with whom he was rubbing shoulders, he was on an uphill climb to learn everything he could. He knew he had to speak to the right people, harness friendships with them and nurture potential business relationships that would ultimately lead him to his goal. He believed in himself to the point of ignoring the years of education that most of us had been entrenched with, entailing every aspect of our theatre life, and was positive he would soon be on the stage legitimately.

Returning to the Studio School, Madame Lehmiski appointed me Head Girl again for the upcoming Pantomime Season. I was in charge of 20 Lehmiski Ladies and ten Lehmiski Babes at the Grand Theatre, Wolverhampton. It was my job to keep a watchful eye on their behaviour; to call rehearsals when needed; and report to management when any problems arose. From there, I organised additional rehearsals where necessary.

It was 1950 and we were rehearsing for a season of ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’. The rehearsals were next door to The Grand Theatre, in the hotel ballroom, as we had only limited access to rehearsal space in the theatre while the current play was in production. Jesse Matthews was starring in this, her first play since a recent nervous breakdown. She was also staying at the hotel where our rehearsals were taking place.

Jesse had been a much-loved actress, singer and dancer with lead roles in many hit stage musicals and films, extending her fame to the United States in the 1930’s and at the beginning of World War Two. There followed several years away from the stage and an unsuccessful ‘comeback’ in a movie thriller.1 Her absence is linked to scandal; ill-health, including a diagnosis of schizophrenia; and a nervous breakdown. Her psychiatric responses stem from a rape when she was 16 which had resulted in pregnancy and a forced abortion, later blamed for a series of miscarriages.2

On this particular day, we were rehearsing the scene where Jack takes the cow, named Jessie, to market. We sang our chorus rendition loudly “They’re taking poor Jessie away! They’re taking poor Jessie away!”

Suddenly, there was a pounding on the double ballroom doors as they dramatically swung open and, to our shock and surprise, Jessie Matthews swept feverishly into the room.

Mistaking the song for a taunt, she shouted, sweeping her eyes over us all, tears apparent “I do not think that is at all funny! It’s very cruel!” and, turning on her heel, sped out of the room before any of us could explain.

I met Paul again during this Pantomime Season of December to March. I would see him briefly between scenes or at the end of performances, exchanging the briefest greeting, as only time allowed. "Hello, Paul," I would call out, as I raced to change costume or get into position on stage. "Goodbye, Joan!" He would call at the end of the evening as he prepared to finish his jobs after curtain close.

*    *    *    *

Easter was on the horizon.

“He’s just bought a new car,” I was pleading about my then boyfriend, John Dawes, son of very wealthy parents “And he’s organised a day trip to Wales with friends.” The only problem was that it was the Easter weekend.

My father was concerned about the spate of bad events that had occurred to our family over Easter. “Look, I’m not superstitious—but don’t go,” he’d said in his succinct, no-nonsense way.

But I wasn’t concerned that anything would happen to me and, instead, looked forward to the trip. Following a fuel stop, John pulled out from the petrol station and said “Let’s see how fast we can go!” With that, he put his foot down and sped off down the road.

I turned to speak to the back seat passengers, leaning my back against the door. But, before I could utter a word, the improperly latched door gave way behind me and, with a shock, I felt myself falling from the car.

Swept out onto the road, I landed hard and rolled several times, yet somehow managed to keep my face free from injury. My clothing was shredded and my limbs, severely grazed, bruised and battered. John and my friends gathered me back into the car and raced me to the nearest hospital. It was an arduous afternoon—nothing like the one that had been planned—as I helped the nurses tweeze out pieces of road debris, bit by bit.

“We’d like to keep you in for observation,” the doctor said, once I’d been heavily bandaged. “It will give us the chance to monitor any swelling and adjust the bandages.” But I insisted I had to return home.

I was quite a sight for my father, standing on the doorstep a short time later, shredded clothing barely disguising the many bandages. I cringed at the thought of his “I told you so” reaction—but, naturally, I was wrong. He was all concern, helping me carefully to bed with his usual hot chocolate tonic.

For days on end, I ached all over and it was difficult to sit comfortably. I took some necessary time off from Theatre School to recover—gaining a little weight in the process that didn’t go unnoticed by Madame Lehmiski once I returned.

My first lesson back was ballet. Before the accident I had completed an exam as part of the process to gain the necessary teaching qualifications, with one exam remaining. The ballet lesson was not going well and I became increasingly grateful for the teaching path I was taking. During the lesson, I discovered that I couldn’t lift my leg above knee height.

Madame Lehmiski was concerned that I couldn't complete the second exam because of this and decided to send me, along with five other girls to a Summer Revue season at St. Anne's, known as the 'Radio Follies'. This was to run from June until September and was my first theatre season away from home. As Head Girl, I was to help with the choreography of the scenes and, as such, was appointed Assistant Choreographer.

In the meantime, I had broken off my relationship with John. Of my new appointment at St. Anne’s he said “I knew you would be on the stage and travel all over the place.” Handing me a chocolate bar, he assured me that we would meet again. When we said goodbye, he said "Even if we are eighty years old we will meet again".

*    *    *    *

It was a bittersweet moment, watching him leave. As he walked out of my life I wondered if we would ever see each other again.

We’d met at a Young People’s Conference in Walsall which had nothing to do with theatre. I went with Jean and was seated alongside a young man who introduced himself as John Dawes. We discussed ages and discovered that we were both born in October 1932 and that our mothers knew each other. His father owned a trucking business and John was to follow in his footsteps. By the end of the Conference, he’d asked me to go out to the pictures.

Theatre life would not have been possible with John as he didn’t understand it, or the level of commitment involved, but I wonder what my life would have been like. I think that if I hadn’t met Paul and seen the possibility of a shared life on the stage, I could have become John’s wife. Paul, on the other hand, loved theatre and was constantly asking me questions in his bid to learn in a fast-tracked style.

I really liked John and I think that the time I spent with him was the only time I spent as a ‘normal’ teenager. We went to movies and local dances, picnics and long, country drives. John’s mother invited me to go on holiday with her, John and his younger brother. We drove to Devon and spent an idealic time there—and so free and different from the rushes of Theatre School and the often hectic juggling of performances and rehearsals.

However, so much of my life had already been on the stage, and in the top theatres, and was on an upward climb with new opportunities revealing themselves. On top of this, Mum delighted in telling people that I was on the stage, detailing the performance I was in and where it was to be. She expected this to continue, as did Paul and Madame. As usual, never wanting to ‘rock the boat’, I did what was expected.

*    *    *    *

The Revue was so-named the 'Radio Follies' as the show belonged to the two comics, Holt and Maurice, who had found fame with their comic talent on radio. It was Holt and Maurice who introduced me to acting in comedy sketches and taught me so much about professional theatre.

The Ashton Pavilion Theatre at St Annes was surrounded by landscaped parklands, named the Ashton Gardens after Lord Ashton purchased another parcel of land to complement it and made a substantial donation in 1914. Out of this, the gardens were radically altered from their sand dune plantings to large areas of undulating ornamental plantings as well as rose, rock features and water gardens.  

The local people made us feel so welcome and wherever we went in the area, people seemed to know who we were. The cast, with whom we were to spend considerable time over the next few months, were also warm and welcoming.

The town, founded in 1875, was also known as St. Anne’s-on-the-Sea, but was usually abbreviated, minus the apostrophe, to St. Annes. It overlooks the Irish Sea, just north of the River Ribble Estuary and is now known as Lytham St Annes with the converging of two towns. Its location made it an idealic place to work and a popular holiday destination with its summer shows, gardens, pier and plentiful array of deck chairs available for hire on the beach.

We met a local horse owner on the beach when he and his staff were exercising the horses. He invited us to join them each morning—thus, we learned to ride. It was an exhilarating way to start the day, galloping on the sand and into the shallow edges of the lapping sea.

I had maintained contact with Paul and we became boyfriend and girlfriend just prior to his call up for compulsory service. He was to spend the next two years with the Royal Air Force but managed to find the time to visit me wherever I was, coming first to St. Anne's on his newly-purchased motorbike.

Holt and Maurice wanted me to continue performing with them for the Autumn Revue season. I went on tour with them, extending my first time away from home to five months, before returning to the Theatre School and Pantomime Season.

I had been asked to play the part of Principal Fairy in this upcoming season and was both excited by the role and anxious about my ability. My main concern was that my dancing had suffered since the accident and I had found it difficult during the Summer Revue and through the previous Pantomime Season. As Head Girl, I could excuse myself from the shows to a certain extent as I had to oversee the chorus and take notes on their performance. I was also understudy for the flying fairy, and played the part for a few weeks. I loved the thrill of flying through the air with the assistance of unseen ropes and strings—but this was not easy.

Although thrilling the part of flying fairy was also hard on me and didn’t help my back. I wore an uncomfortable leather harness, was hauled up a rope to the Flies and then felt an almighty jolt as I flew down to the stage. I knew I needed to undertake strengthening and rehabilitation-style exercise to get back to my full potential.

As soon as I returned home, I set about improving my mobility. I spent four mornings a week with my old teacher, Eileen. On top of this, I taught four students every Saturday which also meant that I could build up strength and ability at the same time. This was followed by the next pantomime season as Principal Fairy and another Summer Revue, also as Head Girl and in charge of six Lehmiski girls.

This was the summer season of 1952 and the show was named the Arcadian Follies. Ernest Binns was the producer, as he had been for the Radio Follies, and the show had been running for over 30 years to delighted holiday audiences, in Morecambe, also known as Bradford-by-the-Sea, before his death at age 65 in August of the same year. He was producer of several shows in different towns at the same time. As such, he would call in from time to time to take a look and ask the director how it was going.

The director gave me substantial acting roles in the show as well as a dance solo. This was the Dying Swan and was my first ballet solo. He hadn't seen me do any point work but he believed  I could do it and asked if I knew the role. I said that I did and he set about fitting the piece into the show especially for me. It was exhilarating. I was so excited to be given the role and absolutely revelled in it. Most of it was point work, which meant many blisters, ending with the graceful, swooning death scene.


My costume for the Dying Swan was the traditional tutu. During the season, however, I had a cooking accident in the 'digs' I shared with the other girls. Cooking hot chips one night for our meal, I knocked the pan and scored scalding oil down one leg, resulting in long streaks of painful burns. Once cleaned, creamed and bandaged, I approached the director to say I couldn't do my solo as the bandage was too big and visible. 


"Can one of the other girls stand in?" I asked.


"No. Absolutely not. You must do it," was his immediate response. With that, he presented me with a long skirt to disguise my injury and the show went on.

Just before the final show, the director approached me and asked if I would like to go on tour as part of the Repertory Company and with a leading solo role. I telephoned Madame Lehmiski, as this was separate from the work she was able to give us, and explained the offer I’d been given.

I could feel her warmth and excitement down the line as she drew in a sharp breath before exclaiming, “Oh, congratulations! Yes—do it!”

This was such an exciting time for me. I was on tour as part of a professional company! It meant living in theatrical ‘digs’ and moving on to a different town every one or two weeks. Paul still managed to come and visit me from time to time and would often say, with eyes lit up, “This is what I want to do when I leave the RAF.”

The tour continued and I was asked to stay with the company. I was offered the Principal role of Fairy Queen in their production of Dick Whittington. Just before this was to begin, I returned home as I was so torn as to what was the best path—should I complete my training at Madame Lehmiski's or take the role and possibly forego ever finishing? It was a fantastic opportunity but I still wanted to teach, or to at least have the option in the future.

Mum was no help either in helping me come to a decision, perhaps just as confused as I was as to which direction my career should go. As for Dad, he said “I don’t care what you do. You can go work in a shoe shop for all I care!” Not helpful—but not as harsh as it sounded. He meant that it was my decision and whatever I decided would be fine with him. I returned to the theatre school to consult with Madame Lehmiski.

She called everyone ‘Babe’, and this time was no different. I felt nervous about what she might say as I entered her office, but she looked up and smiled warmly. ”Hello, Babe!” She eyed me up and down and her eyes crinkled smaller in consideration of why I was there. “I think you have come to tell me you are not coming back?”

“That’s what I came to see you about,” I began.

“Are you enjoying it?” She asked, peering hard at me. I nodded. “Well—that’s your answer, then!” She clapped her hands down onto her knees, as if to say “Simple— subject closed!”

“Dear Madame!” I thought. “You make everything so clear and simple.” I would think of her often throughout my career in this affectionate way. A lot of her students felt intimidated by her and were fearful of her disapproval but I learned so very much from her and would always remember her kind wisdom. Even now, almost 60 years later, when I see a dancer or an actor doing something that was not quite right, I think “Madame would not have liked that!”.

With that, my mind was made up and my acting career continued.

Following Dick Whittington, I returned for another Summer Season in Morcambe with the same company. Paul had almost completed his RAF duties and I was keen to have him work with us. There was another tour following our time at Morcambe and I spoke to the Tour Manager about him, explaining that Paul had experience in Number 1 Theatres in Stage Management. He agreed to take him on as Assistant Stage Manager. I knew he really wanted to be on the stage but, for now, this was his ‘in’.

Sources:

1.   http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jessie_Matthews Cited 16/5/2012 Cited 16/5/2012

2. http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-445576/Jessie-Matthews-The-Diva-Debauchery.html Cited 16/5/2012