HAT-The History of Australian Theatre

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Here you will find articles about Australian theatre history, a searchable list of 18000 people associated with the Australian theatre,  pictures of performers and a searchable collection of over 100 theatre programmes (searchable by performer/artist name or production). Check the links at the side of the page.

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Henri L'Estrange

 Henri L'Estrange

I wrote this article because of a story my grandmother once told. She lived on the Northern Beaches of Sydney and often mentioned the man who walked across Sydney Heads on a tightrope. I wanted to track down this story and discovered L'Estrange.

On Tuesday April 14 1877, The annual exhibition was opened at Prince Alfred Park in Sydney. The Exhibition, organised by the New South Wales Agricultural society was the forerunner of the Royal Easter Show and had been a tradition in the city for many years. In 1877 it featured a ‘long double line of carriages and buggies’ which showed ‘foreign and colonial handiwork’. It included a display of agricultural products from the other colonies of Australia and for the first time many goods from Canada and labour saving devices from the United States. By 1877, the Sydney Mail was already using the abbreviated term ‘show' to describe the exhibition.

The appearance of the exhibition was a cue for entertainers from around the colony to descend upon Sydney. They began arriving at Easter, two weeks before the opening. In early April Wilson’s circus opened in Hyde Park, Mr Bachelder presented a diorama featuring scenes from Canada and Mr Dampier presented Othello. The Exhibition itself included a series of entertainments, for example, a series of concerts featuring the Silvesters and ‘the inimitable Barlow and the artillery band.’ It was a time of celebration and activity for the town of Sydney.

One other performer was in town at that time, Henri L’Estrange. He was a tightrope walker. He had set up in the domain and was attempting to compete with the plethora of acts around him. L’Estrange was a daredevil. Reputedly born in Victoria and aged in his mid thirties, he was a man of creative mind and adventurous spirit. In order to gain publicity and fortune he came up with a scheme that would make audiences forget about his competition.

Tightrope walking had gained in popularity since the Great Blondin’s visit to Australia in 1874. The Frenchman had created his reputation by crossing Niagara Falls in 1859, 1860 and 1861. During his tour of Australia he thrilled audiences by wearing full armour, doing somersaults and cooking an omelette on the tightrope.

On March 29th 1877, a large advertisement appeared in the Sydney Morning Herald.

Middle Harbour

Saturday March 31st 1877

The Australian Blondin’s

(Mr H L’Estrange)

Unparalleled performance

of crossing Middle Harbour.

Henri L’Estrange was proposing to cross a section of Middle Harbour, part of Sydney Harbour, on a tightrope. He had chartered nineteen steamers and was inviting the public to pay two shillings (return) to witness the feat. He was also capitalising on the name Blondin to publicise the endeavour.

On March 29th, L’Estrange gave a private preview of a practice performance to a select group of gentlemen. The men left Circular Quay at 2pm and after an hour travelling by the steamer Britannia, came to a secluded spot in Middle Harbour. There they saw a tightly stretched rope. It was strung across a gap between two headlands, measuring 1420 feet long and 340 feet above the water. It was anchored by supports tied to trees and sunk into the harbour. Made of hemp, the rope sagged and at one spot it was spliced for about twenty feet with a rope of different width. These technical problems made the latter part of the path uphill and also caused swaying of the rope beneath the walker’s feet.

At 3pm, Henri L’Estrange stepped upon this flimsy support and carrying a sixty pound balancing pole, walked its length. It was a perilous and breath taking event ,watched eagerly by the men on the Britannia. Ten minutes later, L’Estrange was safely at the other side, having successfully completed his experiment. The success of this private demonstration was reported in The Sydney Morning Herald the next day.

The excitement for the proposed public exhibition mounted steadily. The rope became an attraction in its own right. Advertisements for visits to the rope were placed in the papers and people were invited to view preparations for the walk. Mrs Darnton advised the public that she had taken the refreshment booth on the pier and nineteen steamers had been hired by L’Estrange to ferry people to the location. Anticipation was at fever pitch. Then it rained.

Saturday was a ‘pouring wet’ day and L’Estrange had to cancel the planned walk. Meanwhile he continued his performances at the Domain. There, a large number of people gathered each night to witness his feats on the tightrope. Fireworks illuminated the sky as he performed and Professor Kelly provided a pyrotechnic fountain. All this was accompanied by music played by the Young Australian Band.

The delay in the Middle Harbour crossing was probably to the advantage of L’Estrange. He postponed the public exhibition until April 14th. This meant that The Exhibition would be open which ensured that country visitors would have an opportunity to see his fabulous feat and pay for the privilege.

That Saturday, April 14th ,dawned hot and sunny. Crowds gathered at Circular Quay waiting for the steamers to convey them to Middle Harbour. Their number gave the Quay ‘a holiday aspect.’ L’Estrange had engaged twenty-one steamers and all were filled to capacity with observers paying two shillings return for a ticket. Some enterprising entrepreneurs took passengers on their own steamers. The Sydney Morning Herald estimated that eight thousand people made their way to Middle Harbour by water.

Thousands more made their way to the location overland from St Leonards. L’Estrange had stationed toll collectors on the roads to collect their two shillings. Upon arrival, the crowds gathered at the eastern and western shores and were entertained by The Young Australian Band, the Allison Brass band and the Coppers and Baileys band. Taking advantage of the hot weather, several refreshment stalls and publican booths supplied food and alcohol for the gathering throng.

At 4 O Clock, the cause of this display, Henri L’Estrange, emerged from a tent on the eastern side of the bay. He was dressed in a dark tunic with a red cap and turban. He immediately stepped onto the hempen rope, carrying his balancing pole, and began to quickly walk above the steamers on the water below. The spectators cheered in excitement as he walked at a brisk pace of eighty steps to the minute. As he reached the spliced part of the rope he slowed his rate, then he stopped. He raised his left foot and rested it against his right leg. Then he dropped to one knee and sat down waving a handkerchief cheekily at the thousands of people watching him.

Becoming more daring, he laid on his back for a minute and after sitting up removed a small telescope and looked around at the spectators. This insouciant display earned him wild applause. He then resumed walking the rope. Getting to the uphill portion he slowed his steps, but made the distance safely. Soon he was standing ashore triumphantly. The steamers blew their whistles, the crowds roared approval, and the bands played loudly. The performance had lasted a total of fifteen minutes.

The spectators rushed the temporary piers to get to the steamers. As they did so several people were pushed into the water, but there were no serious accidents. L’Estrange reappeared in a rowboat as the steamers left and was once again enthusiastically cheered.

The newspapers joined the general chorus of approval saying

‘L’Estrange appears to lack none of the daring or skill which has made Blondin famous throughout the world.’

According to The Sydney Illustrated News

‘He performed his truly wonderful feat with the greatest coolness and consummate ability, and went through a number of daring evolutions on the rope similar to some of those he affects when going through his daily entertainments.’

L’Estrange had conquered Sydney and had overwhelmed his opposition.

One item of controversy regarding the walk was its location. In 1877, the Sydney Morning Herald pinpointed it as ‘Long Bay’. Long Bay could take in the area from Cammaray to Northbridge, although it has been taken to refer to Willoughby Bay. This contradicted notices of the time that advertised trips to see ‘Blondin’s rope.’ The advertisements noted that ‘intending visitors going by the first boat can return by the last boat leaving Clontarf at 5pm, enabling persons to view Blondin’s rope and the beautiful scenery of Middle Harbour or spending the day in fishing.’ This suggested that ‘Blondin’s rope’ was visible from the vicinity of Clontarf which lead to speculation that the walk took place around the area of the current Spit Bridge. However a letter to The Sydney Morning Herald in 1935 supported the Willoughby Bay location. The correspondent claimed to be a witness and that ‘the position of the rope was across Willoughby Bay, the arm of Long Bay (Middle Harbour)." Regardless of the actual location, the fact is that the walk was long remembered by many. It must have been a spectacular sight.

L"Estrange repeated the performance twice within the next two weeks. On Wednesday, April 18th he again took to the sky on a flimsy thread and thrilled two thousand spectators. On this occasion the Governor of New South Wales and his wife, Lady Robinson, were present. Their Excellencies were reportedly very impressed by the display. The performance was similar to the one the previous Saturday. Mr Devlin who had composed a piece of music called "Blondin’s March’ in honour of L’Estrange, conducted the Albion Band, and Henri negotiated the journey with a minimum of fuss.

That Wednesday evening, the group of distinguished gentlemen who had witnessed the private demonstration of L’Estrange’s skill on March 29th gathered at Sebastian Hodge’s hotel on Pitt Street to discuss giving Henri a momento of the occasion. The Herald reported that a large number of subscriptions were gathered for the cause.

L’Estrange’s final crossing of Middle Harbour occurred on Saturday April 21st. he was engaged to appear in Brisbane and had to leave Sydney. Prospective spectators were advised to patronise ‘Blondin’s steamers only’. The names Blondin and L’Estrange were being used interchangeably by this time.

That Saturday was a sunny but windy day. The crowds had dwindled to a few hundred and L’Estrange hired only four official steamers. Six more independent steamers joined them. At 4 O Clock Henri dressed in a close fitted tunic and tights and carrying the balancing pole, stepped upon the rope. Without hesitation he nimbly walked across the harbour with the steamers below and people lining the shores behind and in front of him. He again performed several cheeky moves in the middle of the path to the delight of those watching. Finally after fifteen minutes he arrived safely on shore having completed his fourth crossing of Middle Harbour successfully.

That night at the Royal Victoria Theatre in Pitt Street, Mr Dampier, a well known Shakespearian actor presided over a testimonial for Henri L’Estrange. In front of a packed house, Mr Dampier gave Henri a large decoration as a souvenir of his achievements. It was a large gold star, three inches across. On one side was a representation of Henri walking across Middle Harbour. On the other an inscription reading

"Presented to Mr H L’Estrange by the public of New South Wales

on the occasion of his wonderful performance of crossing Sydney

Harbour on the 14th day of April 1877.

The decoration was attached to a star that contained a large diamond. It was an elaborate and expensive item, a testament to the amount that was raised by the committee. In addition Henri was presented with an address commemorating the occasion and a purse full of sovereigns. The audience cheered loudly and the Young Australian Band played the Blondin March. Henri climbed on stage and expressed his sincere gratitude to the people of New South Wales.

According to the newspapers, he had decided to travel to Brisbane and from there to London. He was then intending to travel to the United States where he would cross Niagara. There is no record of him doing so. The further adventures of Henri L’Estrange were to primarily concern another dangerous activity, ballooning, before he returned to his original profession, the tight rope

The Further Adventures of Henri L'Estrange

 

According to The Sydney Morning Herald, Henri L’Estrange was in his mid thirties at the time of the Middle Harbour crossing. The paper reported that he was born in Fitzroy. A purported photo of L’Estrange published in 1982 showed a lithe man with a broad forehead, short flat hair and a moustache. Very little is known about L’Estrange’s life, although a picture at Mitchell Library could be of him and his wife. What can be surmised is that he was a man of adventurous, almost foolhardy spirit.

The challenge of flight had fascinated human kind for decades. In the late 19th Century it became an obsession for men who sought sensation. It was a natural hobby for a man of L’Estrange’s temperament.

In 1879, Henri began ballooning experiments in Melbourne. Trading off his tightrope fame, he was billed as the ‘Australian Blondin’. On April 14th 1879 he took off from the Agricultural showgrounds in Melbourne. He rose high in the air on this occasion and reached an estimated nine thousand feet before the balloon tore and began to fall. L’Estrange was prepared for disaster and a silk parachute eased his descent to the ground. It was the first recorded instance of survival by parachute in Australia.

Henri apparently made several ballooning attempts. Many of them ended in failure. In 1880 the Sydney Morning Herald described him as ‘the aeronaut, whose misadventures, pluck and narrow escapes have kept him somewhat prominently before the public.’

In September 1880, he made an ascent in a balloon from Cook Park in Sydney. Almost three thousand people gathered in the park to see him, although the whole of Sydney had their eyes on the sky. The balloon lifted smoothly and sailed over the Garden Palace, it drifted over the Pacific Ocean and then L’Estrange decided to descend before being swept out to sea by the winds. Landing seemed to be a challenge to L’Estrange. As he landed, the balloon was torn to shreds by trees and brambles. The venture was a financial failure but the aeronaut emerged unharmed.

Henri’s inability to master landing took a dramatic, almost farcical, turn when he returned to Sydney for another flight in 1881. The balloon was set up in a small enclosure in the Domain. The Sydney Gas Company spent all day filling it and as night descended a large crowd gathered. Between 7 and 9 O Clock it was estimated that ten thousand people were in the area. They pushed hard against the barricade surrounding the balloon and began to get rowdy. The barricade was soon broken down and ‘the larrikin element began to assert itself.’

L’Estrange knew that he had to make the ascent or risk injury from the mob. Around 9.30pm he decided to fly. However heavy dew prevented the balloon from rising. He begged the Gas Company for more gas, but they refused to oblige. Henri decided to fly the balloon without the basket in order to lighten the load. He removed the basket and sat down in a loop of the ropes. L’Estrange gave a signal and shortly before 10pm the balloon with the tangled aviator sailed into the air.

It drifted gracefully, half a mile high, over Hyde Park and then, caught in the wind, flew over Rushcutters Bay. L’Estrange moved to adjust the valve on the balloon, and suddenly lost his seat. He found himself hanging precariously, high about Sydney, solely by his hands. Feeling he was sure to be killed, he desperately managed to retain a seated position. Unfortunately, the escaping gas from the balloon began to make him feel dizzy, so he firmly tied himself to the ropes, ensuring that if he became unconscious he would not fall.

The balloon lost altitude and began to float over Woolloomooloo. As it did so, the many buildings in the area endangered Henri. After passing Robinson’s Lane between Crown and Palmer Streets, the balloon stuck fast on the roof of a house in Palmer Street. Henri, seeing an opportunity to escape, cut himself loose and jumping from the roof reached the street. There he was joined by a group of curious bystanders who ‘no doubt fancying that he must have received some serious hurt took him into Robinson’s Fitzroy Hotel, at the corner of William and Palmer Streets.’ Alcohol of course, being the obvious remedy for any injury the foolhardy aviator could have sustained.

L’Estrange’s bizarre evening did not end there. As members of Henri’s entourage attempted to wrangle the balloon to street level, the occupant of the house where it had landed opened the shutters on his balcony. The rush of air combined with the gas of the balloon collided with the chandelier in the next room, and an immediate explosion of fire burst like a bomb over the house. It lit up the whole suburb.

Spectators from around the city heard the explosion and saw the light. The thousands watching from the domain thought that L’Estrange had been injured. They rushed en masse to Woolloomooloo. The residents of Woolloomooloo meanwhile, ran in a panic away from the explosion, thinking they were in imminent danger. Numerous people were injured and some taken to hospital, Fortunately there were no fatalities.

It was the end of Henri L’Estrange’s aeronautical career, However there was one more adventure for Henri in Sydney. He returned to his first occupation, the tight rope.

On Saturday December 23rd 1882 a strange advertisement appeared in The Sydney Morning Herald.

 

Unprecedented Daring, Skill Pluck and Nerve

The Australian Blondin H L’Estrange

Will perform the extraordinary feat of

crossing Banbury Bay, Middle Harbour

with a BICYCLE on a TIGHT ROPE

this Day Sat 23rd.

The notice advised that first class bands had been engaged and that several boats were leaving Circular Quay at 2.30pm. The cost was two shillings return.

Henri L’Estrange was once again indulging his spirit of adventure

That afternoon, three or four steamers left Circular Quay and travelled ‘several miles above the spit’ By Five O Clock, six to seven hundred people had gathered on shore. Many people in private boats and yachts who were eager to witness the feat joined them.

The rope was stretched to a length of 120 fathoms. However it was only raised about thirty feet high. It was tightly drawn by a winch and secured by guys carried out to boats on the water. The crews of the boats pulled hard against each other to maintain the rope’s tension and prevent swaying.

At 6pm Henri appeared seated on a bicycle and carrying a balancing pole. He slowly cycled across the rope. Suddenly, about thirty feet across, he stopped, hesitated and seemed to lose balance. He restarted but came to another halt at fifty feet from the shore. The rope began to sway, the makeshift guys were inadequate and the unequal pulling of the crews was causing it to become unsteady. Henri somehow maintained his balance and continued to cycle across the rope, he reached one hundred feet from the starting point. Then realising that he was about to fall, he leapt from the rope, feet first and plunged into the water. He managed to swim to a boat where he received medical attention, but he was essentially unscathed. It was another lucky escape for Henri L’Estrange.

The spectators returned to the steamers and sailed home. The Sydney Morning Herald noted dryly that;

This is not the first misfortune L’Estrange has met with in his attempt to perform

feats of daring

Henri was not finished with the bicycle stunt. Determination was part of his character and he resolved to try again. Thus on the following Friday, December 29th another peculiar advertisement appeared in The Sydney Morning Herald.

BLONDIN HAS RECOVERED HIS BICYCLE

And will cross Middle Harbour

On Sat 30th instant and Mon 1st Prox

To this was added a warning note

The public are cautioned against unprincipled people who on

Saturday last sold tickets without authorisation

Saturday 30th December was a very wet day. Three steamers made the trip to Banbury Bay. The passengers were soaked by rain as they travelled. Some had the privilege of listening to the Fire Brigade band on the voyage. Unfortunately, the hardy souls who had braved the rain were to be disappointed. When they arrived at Banbury Bay the rope was nowhere to be seen. L’Estrange appeared on a boat and made an announcement to the waiting spectators. An unknown person had cut his rope the day before. Displaying a portion of the cut rope that looked as if it had been hacked by a knife or tomahawk, Henri explained that he had been unable to reattach it. The performance was cancelled.

The Daily Telegraph was very cynical about this development. On Monday January 1st, under the heading, ‘The Blondin Fiasco,’ the paper noted that;

Fares were very quickly called for after the steamers left Circular Quay

Clearly implying that Henri and his cohorts should have already known about the problem with the rope.

The paper asserted that those who had attended

did not hesitate to express pretty strongly their opinions,

which, it may be said, were by no means complimentary

to Mr L’Estrange.

It concluded by suggesting that the attendees had been ‘had’.

The Sydney Morning Herald was less critical, stating that the story of the cut rope;

Was true, though it was impossible to find a satisfactory reason to account

for the occurrence.

The Herald said that most people were willing to sympathise with Henri’s plight, and complimented the crowd for its patience and restraint.

It is possible that Henri lost his nerve after the fall. It is equally possible that some jealous rival cut the rope in a fit of pique. Whatever the case, the cut rope episode marked Henri L’Estrange’s last major adventure in Sydney. Under a cloud of suspicion he vanishes from the record. What happened to him is unknown

Henri L’Estrange lives on in legend. In the 1930s a fictional story was written about the first Middle Harbour Crossing. In 1935 correspondence in the Herald regarding the location of the Middle Harbour crossing appeared. In 1982 a small article appeared in The Sun newspaper. Henri’s Middle Harbour crossing is told in several local histories of Sydney’s Northern Suburbs.

Strangely, the crossing seems to be a well-known story on Sydney’s Northern Beaches. It is strange because L’Estrange had little association with the area. The story has probably gained notoriety because of the controversy over the location of the walk. The belief that it took place at The Spit, explains the curious resiliency of the story in the area.

Henri L’Estrange was a man of daring, pluck and skill, just as he was advertised. He was an adventurer whose feats thrilled Sydney. He embodied the spirit of his age and is fondly remembered as the ‘Australian Blondin’ by the Harbour City.

The Autograph book of Esmee Minetti.

 Esmee Minetti was a bright-eyed 10-year-old tap dancer from Melbourne, when she received a brown-covered autograph book as a gift. It contains autographs from several well-known performers of the 1940s and is a brief glimpse into the small theatrical world of the time.

The book is dated 1942 and the cover bears the inscription To Esmee Minetti from Marie 10-8-42. It is browning and aged as expected from an 80-year-old item and some pages have been torn. This may have been to extract autographs that appeared more valuable to the former owner.

By the 1940s vaudeville was usurped by the motion picture, but variety acts still appeared in the bigger theatres such as the Tivoli, and in the annual pantomimes. The needs of wartime had thinned the ranks of performers, and acts that had been popular in the 1920s had a brief resurgence. Men who were too old to join up also filled the stages with their old-fashioned gags and timeless stories.

Esmee Minetti, the owner of the autograph book, was a child performer who appeared for the Tivoli and Williamson companies during the Second World War. Esmee was a tap dancer but left the stage shortly after her 18^th birthday.

Born Esmee Minetti in Melbourne in 1932, she was the daughter of Iris Minetti (nee Bedford) and Keith Minetti, a plumber from Melbourne. She was named after her grandmother, Esmee Robinson and her brother Colin, was named after his grandfather, Colin Bedford.

 Esmee may have been a pupil of legendary Victorian dance teacher, Ivy Emms. Ivy had a dance school in Melbourne and provided juvenile dancers for the lavish productions at the Tivoli in the 1940s. Ivy’s daughter, Nita, took over the school after her mother’s sudden death in 1949. Nita’s autograph is in Esmee’s book, so the two certainly met.

The first autographs in the book are from Valerie Meecham and Pat Keating, dated 8-8-42, strangely before the date on the first page. In December 1941 Valerie and Pat played the Babes in the Babes in the Wood Pantomime at His Majesty’s Theatre in Melbourne. It is possible that Esmee was part of the child chorus in the show. In September 1942 Pat appeared in a benefit show and this could have been where Esmee got her autograph.

The inscription, in pencil, says in a scrawled script, ' To Esmee , Wishing you all the best of love and luck in the future from Pat Keating.'

 Pat was about four years older than Esmee and later stated that she started performing at the age of six. In the late 1940s she became a starring performer for Williamsons. When she was twenty-one, she left the stage to marry an American called Glenn Weible. The two toured the world setting up Max Factor factories. Weible divorced his first wife to marry the lovely blonde Australian ingenue.

Pat Keating 1948

The next set of autographs in Esmee’s book date from 1943. They refer to the ‘Hoyt’s pantomime’ and include the signature of legendary performer Nellie Kolle, who encourages Esmee to continue her career.

Nellie writes To Esmee Wishing you a brilliant stage career. Hoping to meet you one day in same show again yours merrily Nellie Kolle

Nellie was a famous male impersonator who reached the height of her fame in the 1920s. She had a brief revival of her career during the 1940s due to a lack of war time talent.

Her autograph in Esmee’s book is interesting. Nellie was a well-known star, and her appearance in the Hoyt’s Pantomime, a relatively minor show, was unusual. Hoyt’s cinema in St Kilda in Melbourne held a pantomime performance between movie showings that year. The panto chosen was Sinbad the Sailor. It could be here that Esmee tap danced and shared a stage with the legendary Nellie Kolle.

Nellie Kolle 1920s

Nita Emms also signed the book at that time. Nita as previously mentioned, was the daughter of Ivy Emms, the dance teacher who provided children to the Tivoli theatre pantomimes. The Tivoli connection here is strong as Nellie appeared at the Tivoli in February 1943.

The next group of autographs tells a tale of a travelling troupe of performers. 16-year-old Esmee was adventuring around the countryside with experienced players who probably filled her head with big dreams and big stories. The company included well-known pantomime dame Dan Thomas.

Dan inscribes to Esmee; With every good wish from Dan Thomas, Cinderella Pantomime 1947.

Originally from England, Thomas came to Australia with great fanfare in the early years of the 20^th Century. Dan performed with all the big-name companies in Australia and was extremely popular during the 1920s. By the 1940s his dame specialty was outdated, so he continued his on-stage career with minor shows and circuses.

In September 1947, this troupe, led by Dan, appeared in Albury with the pantomime Mother Goose. Dan played Mother Goose whilst Esmee danced. Juggler Tex Glanville was a special treat.

By November, they were in South Australia presenting Cinderella. Esmee and Maureen Trickey played fairies and danced, whilst Dan was an ugly stepsister. Neil O Brien played Buttons and the show was enjoyed by all, especially the children.

Dan as a young man

This was old fashioned, bare boned pantomime with audience participation encouraged. The children screamed in indignation as the stepsisters taunted Cinderella, and they cheered when they received their comeuppance.

But it was old fashioned. By the time they arrived in Lismore in New South Wales in January 1948 local critics were comparing the pantomime to movies saying that ‘the motion pictures create too sharp a contrast for the flesh and blood artists in threadbare pantomime’ adding that the show was ‘fighting a losing battle for popularity.’  

The critics in Grafton NSW the next month were less harsh praising the pantomime for its clean humour. Dante the magician had joined the tour and demonstrated his famous trunk trick.

They returned to Melbourne in April with Dante as headliner. Freda Barton and Neil O Brien remained with the group, but it seems that Dan Thomas had left. They performed at a suburban town hall, far from the bright lights of the Tivoli or Princess Theatres in Melbourne.

Esmee was 16 years old and despite notes of encouragement from Nellie Kolle and Dan Thomas, it seems that shortly after her 18^th birthday she decided to leave the wandering stage life.

She joined the Australian Air Force as a receptionist. However, she remained in the spotlight for a fleeting time, appearing in the newspaper in 1951 as an enthusiastic recruit and a former tap dancer.

Esmee second from right with friends in a newspaper spread 1951

Esmee remained in Melbourne working as a receptionist. She may have danced for friends or family or occasionally as part of a chorus line, but her main work was in the office.

Her autograph book is a memento of a brief career as an entertainer during the 1940s. She died in 2002 in Melbourne aged 70 years old.

Daisy Jerome

 

In 1913, fashions and attitudes were changing quickly. Early that year women suffragettes had marched in the US and later that year the scandalous Argentine tango began to be danced in western society. The tango reached Australia in late 1913 and almost at the same time, a young music hall artist called Daisy Jerome arrived in Australia under contract to JC Williamson.

When Daisy Jerome landed in Adelaide in 1913 she was dripping with jewels and carried a scent of the scandalous. The American born, but English raised, comedienne was a small woman with a wiry frame topped with a carroty mop of red hair. She had a sparkling and wicked sense of humour and a vibrant manner. However, it was the fate of her dresses that worried Daisy when she arrived. She had forgotten a box in London and was afraid she would not be able to replace them when she reached Sydney.

Daisy Jerome was a product of music hall and J C Williamson had caught her act in London. He hired her for an Australian tour at the huge rate of 150 pounds a week, and Daisy had eagerly grabbed the opportunity .

In England Daisy was surrounded by a faint scent of impropriety. Her act was outrageous, she often made pointed political allusions in her songs, and some had suggestive lyrics which were often accompanied by a wicked wink which promised more than she delivered.

Daisy was a feisty product of a system which required toughness and charm. She had deserted her first husband, Mr Fowler, a year after their marriage and started to live with a Mr Allen. During the divorce proceedings, Mr Fowler had stated that Miss Jerome’s mother was a strain on their relationship and had threatened to kill Mr Allen if he didn’t marry Daisy after soiling her reputation. Mother Jerome accompanied Daisy to Australia, but Mr Allen was nowhere to be seen.

There was also the court case for libel that she had initiated against a journalist in 1910. The journalist wrote that Daisy had performed several encores, although the audience had not asked for them.  During the case, Daisy’s song,  ' a little pat of butter' a ditty with several dubious meanings and a verse about Chamberlain, was disparaged. She won the case and was awarded the grand sum of a farthing .

Daisy ‘s first appearance in Australia was in Sydney in December 1913. She was one of the stars of Australia’s first revue, ‘Come over here’. The show was panned by critics because of its length and many reviewers thought it would have been better with some judicious cuts. Sydney reviewers however, enjoyed Daisy's role. The contrast between her delicate ladylike frame and the raucous vulgarity of her comic songs shocked audiences and the reviewers firmly decided that Daisy was ‘an acquired taste.’ Daisy agreed with this assessment. She later  told journalists that audiences in Sydney were initially cold towards her. It may have been her bright red hair or the quick changes of costume or the famous wicked wink that shocked them. However, Daisy eventually won over the sceptics in Sydney and by the time the show arrived in Melbourne, she was warmly welcomed and christened with the nickname, ‘The electric spark.’

During the run of the show, fellow comedian, Jack Cannot played a joke on Daisy. Her red hair was a source of gossip and speculation. Daisy was at great pains to assure audiences and press that it was her natural colour, but few believed her. It was such a source of controversy that Cannot used it as the basis of a prank.

In Melbourne, Cannot informed Daisy, that there was a gentleman who had taken offence at her red hair. Daisy was indignant and insisted to Cannot that her hair was hardly her fault, but the Australian comedian insisted that the offended gentleman would visit Daisy that night.

Cannot then rang the local fire brigade and spoke to the superintendent. He told him that there was a grave risk of fire during Miss Daisy Jerome’s turn on stage that night. Superintendent Lee was worried and agreed to come to the theatre to assess the risk. Upon meeting Daisy Mr Lee immediately sensed the problem and said, ‘ I agree, there is a danger of fire . The scenery should be fireproofed at once.’

Red hair was a source of superstition and had long been associated with bad tempers and scandalous sexuality. This was particularly a problem for women in the early 20^th Century when combined with a theatrical profession and a music hall background. Daisy’s stage persona capitalised on the evil reputation of red heads, but she also sought to maintain some respectability by insisting her carrot top was natural rather than dyed. The presence of her mother by her side maintained her respectability too.

Initial reports of Daisy’s arrival had emphasised her jewellery and sophisticated style. However, after the declaration of war in July, reports began to focus on her simplicity of dress and direct manner. Daisy assured reporters that she was not interested in clothes at all, and that she wanted to appear as simply dressed as possible so that the audience could focus on her singing ability.

After her contract with Williamson lapsed, Daisy was offered another large contract by Fullers. This was for vaudeville performances and gave  Daisy the opportunity to showcase the naughty act that had caused furore in Europe.

In Brisbane in October 1914 she sang, ‘ When you go to the seaside’, and two of her signature tunes, ‘Row Row Row’ and the pro feminist ‘ The Press, the Pulpit and the Petticoat’. The last compared the powers of the media and the church to the power of women, with women being favoured of the three.

Daisy’s feisty singing, her independence and her slightly risqué act and comments about the role of women in society were typical of many women of her day. In an interview in Adelaide in 1914, she stated that the only influence on her decisions were her own wishes. She told the interviewer, ‘ I refuse to regulate my acts to accepted rules of conduct, that is why I suppose people say that I am mad.’

Independent minded Daisy was happy to pay for herself rather than rely on a man to pay for her. She thought the fact that she earned more than most men meant that she should pay her own way. Her statements to the press were unusual and shocking for the period, but her popularity with audiences did not fail and she had a successful tour of the major cities and New Zealand with Fullers.

Daisy also toured regional centres of Australia and visited mining towns in Queensland and New South Wales. In Brisbane she performed for visitors and of course she participated in various war related benefits such as auctions and benefit performances

Daisy remained in Australia until 1916 and left Ben Fuller with a court case. She sued a man for the return of a loan in 1917 after her departure. She lost the case, but had left Australia long before it was heard.

Daisy returned to Australia in 1922 and had another successful and dramatic tour of the country. There was a scandalous court case involving missing jewels and a new husband with an exotic French name. Daisy stayed shocking and individual but her style faded from popularity with the advent of the moving pictures and soon she disappeared into the shadows of history.

Alfred Tischbauer Scenic Designer

 Early Scenic designers were trained fine artists who for various reasons chose to display their talents on the stage. The influence of European trained artists who came to Australia to produce scenery was immense. They imported an aesthetic which influenced later scenic designers and painting in Australia one such imported artist was Alfred Louis Tischbauer.

Alfred, known as ‘Tish’ to his friends, was born in Paris in 1853-54 and was the son of Alexandre Tischbauer and his wife Marie Julie.  Tish trained as an artist in Paris and was involved in the Paris Commune of 1871, with other communards, he was apparently transported to New Caledonia.

In 1879, Alf arrived in Australia and by 1880 he was living and painting in Sydney. That year he exhibited at the Melbourne International Exhibition and in 1883 he showed an oil of George Street Sydney at the NSW Art Society exhibition.  During these years he also taught painting and drawing at the School of Design and the Working Man's College in Sydney.

Tischbauer’s paintings were mostly realistic portrayals of Sydney street scenes and he was particularly well known for his precise details and mastery of perspective. He taught the latter at several schools. Both of these qualities were useful skills for a successful scenic artist.

In 1881, Tisch was credited for creating the scenery for a play at the Standard Theatre in Sydney called the Colliery Girl. The Coal mine, a scene for the play was advertised as ‘the most exciting scene ever produced in Sydney.’

He mixed teaching, painting and scenic design in his early years in Australia in order to make a decent living. This mixture of occupations was common for scenic designers of the era as the profession was an unstable one which relied on the whims of  managers. Unless a designer was employed by the larger companies  such as J C Williamson or the Tivoli circuit, they had to rely on an uncertain income stream. Tischbauer obviously realized this and used his artistic skills in the service of  a variety of employers.

Socially, Alf mixed with fellow Frenchmen in the French Association of New South Wales. In 1885 he was involved in a tribute to Victor Hugo, a notable supporter of the Paris Commune , organized by the society.

He continued to stay in Sydney as a base until the late 1880s when he began working as a scenic designer for Alfred Dampier, an Australian producer of dramas. Tischbauer provided the scenes for Dampier’s 1887 season at the Royal Standard in Sydney and in 1888 he was working at the Theatre Royal in Melbourne, presumably for Dampier. The plays Dampier produced at this time were dramas and classical Shakespeare productions and Tischbauer was responsible for scenes both contemporary and historical.

In the early 1890s Tischbauer worked almost exclusively for Dampier under the name ALTA, and the two men became very close. Tish painted scenery for several plays including “For the Term of his natural Life’, and ‘Robbery Under Arms’. In the latter his scenes included, the diggings by night, and the terrible hollow. Robbery Under Arms was reviewed as romantic fare and ALTA’s scenery was atmospheric and haunting. By 1893 he was being listed as ‘Monsieur ALTA Tischbauer, celebrated artist.’

Tischbauer seemed happy with Dampier and was in constant and well paid work. Money was always a consideration with Tish, although he was very generous to his friends, so the financial security of a long running position with a prominent manager would have been very satisfying.

However, the stability of employment was marred by Alfred’s romantic adventures.

In 1891, Selina Palmer, a Dampier domestic servant, took her own life by swallowing poison. The cause of her despair was an ‘attachment’ to the celebrated French artist Alfred Tischbauer.

Selina had met Alf at the Dampier’s residence and the pair had spent some time together, but Tish stated publically at the inquest into her death, that they had not been intimate. However, Selina’s last letter to him implied otherwise. It said she was in ‘difficulty’, a common euphemism for pregnancy at the time, and stated that Alf had asked her to go to America with him. The letter pathetically stated, ‘ I cannot live without you, so I must die’. The tragedy was ruled a suicide due to unrequited love.

Dampier’s daughter and leading lady, Lily testified on Alf’s behalf at the inquest, and it was clear that the Dampier family supported their scenic artist. It was an indication of the closeness of the relationship that Alf was a frequent visitor to the manager’s home.

Tischbauer remained working with Dampier until 1893 when another scandal ruined the friendship forever.

Dampier was a victim of the economic depression of the 1890s and by 1893 owed several creditors a large sum of money. One of these creditors was Alfred Tischbauer.

Dampier owed a huge sum of over 6000 pounds to various people and companies. Tischbauer was owed back salary of 591 pounds, an enormous sum for the time. He never received the payment and he held a grudge against Dampier for the rest of his life.

Tisch’s livelihood was ruined and he was forced to take odd jobs in design and teaching until 1894 when he was appointed art director at the Sale school of Mines, Art and Technology. Tisch hated everything about the job and it was clear that his heart belonged to scenic design, however, his problems with Dampier had stopped other managers hiring him for work.

In 1895, Tish’s job at Sale was under threat because of the bad economic outlook. He was depressed and melancholy and wrote to a friend, that ‘ being born unlucky what can a man expect but d bad luck for ever and ever.’ Fortunately the school’s finances improved and Alf was asked to stay. The regular wage and his ill luck in the theatre world made him accept the continuation of his position

In 1896 he was still unhappy at Sale, saying, ‘I was not born for a country life, the people there are generally very narrow minded and one is always afraid of hurting their feeling..it is very monotonous after all and it is a very poor substitute for an active man.’

He was still brooding about Dampier.

‘One manager is not more honest than the other, the worst is that we always suppose men better than they really are..while the rogues laugh in their sleeve.’

He added that Dampier, ‘must hate me like a vile serpent or poison, which sentiment I return cordially.’

Alf was planning to travel to the United States and stayed in Sale, ‘wretched place’, in order to save money. In 1897 aged 43, he returned to Melbourne and married Harriet Vincent Watson, a 21 year old teacher from Sale. They were married at St John’s Church in Footscray by Harriet’s father, George, a reverend in the Church of England.

Tisch was keen to leave Australia but he remained until 1903 when he and Harriet took ship to San Francisco. It was a terrible trip and Tisch was sick all the way due to the rough seas. The couple lived in O Farrell Street near several theatres including the Orpheum.

Alf maintained a precarious existence as a scenic designer in the United States for the rest of his life. In 1909 he wrote about working in the US, saying it was ‘good enough for those acquainted with managers’, but difficult for him because he was accustomed to being an independent contractor and ‘one feels the bossing’ when working for another.

He was still bitter about Dampier and when he heard of his old managers death he focused on debt rather than grief, saying ‘ now the chances to recover some of my poor earnings are gone forever.’

Tischbauer died in the United States around 1922 and his wife Harriet returned to Australia that year. She died in Australia in 1925. Many of Tish’s paintings are still extant and his painting of George Street is kept by the NSW State Library, the Art Gallery of NSW also has some of his work. Tischbauer remains a little known but talented contributor to theatrical entertainment in Australia in the late 19^th Century.

Maesmore Morris

 

Maesmore Morris

The beautiful dramatic actress, Gertrude Maesmore Morris, overcame violent domestic abuse to become a successful international star.

Gertrude was born in England in March 1872, to Hannah Elliot and Dr John Willmot. In 1882, aged 10, she came to Australia with her father and they settled in Melbourne Victoria.

Ten years later, Gertrude had grown into a beautiful young woman and at 20 made a very good match. She married a prosperous gentleman some years her senior, Mr Maesmore Morris, an accountant and son of a wealthy iron merchant, John Morris.

The marriage was quite successful for about two years, and Gertrude had a son, Colin. However, after his birth, Maesmore started to drink and with drunkenness  came violence. This increased after he suffered a major professional setback . In 1896 he was publically accused of misusing the funds of an estate of which he was the trustee. The case came to court and was reported in the papers, for such a prominent man it was a shameful scandal, it accelerated his abuse of alcohol, and his lost his job.

The family had no means of support, and Gertrude suggested that she take to the stage. Maesmore interviewed theatrical manager J C Williamson and gave his approval when Gertrude signed a contract with the famous entrepreneur.

Gertrude took the professional name, ‘Mrs Maesmore Morris’ a name she maintained throughout her career. She first appeared on stage at the Princess Theatre in Melbourne in 1897 taking a small part in a company lead by Julius Knight. Her husband waited for her after every performance for a few weeks and escorted her home.

However, he soon stopped meeting her and his alcoholism began to take a violent turn. One night when Gertrude was at her father’s house, a man called Richardson offered to escort her home. Believing that her husband was at the house Gertrude asked Richardson if he wanted refreshment. Maesmore was furious when he realized another man was present. He screamed at Gertrude, accusing her of infidelity and struck her viciously across the face, drawing blood.

The violence escalated quickly. One night Maesmore came home whilst Gertrude was sleeping, he flung her from the bed so violently that she struck her head against the baby’s cot. Her brother was summoned and took Gertrude from the house.

Soon afterwards, Maesmore sent Gertrude a letter, forbidding her return to the family home.

As these incidents occurred, Gertrude was performing and rehearsing for J C Williamson. She was appearing in plays such as the Two Little Vagabonds and the Prisoner of Zenda, which starred internationally famous actors Julius Knight and Mr Majeroni, divas, Miss Elliot Page and Miss Stella Esdaile were also in the cast.

One night during a performance of Two Little Vagabonds, Maesmore appeared in the stalls. When Gertrude entered the stage, he began screaming obscenities over the footlights. He created a major disturbance and was forcefully removed from the theatre.

The harassment continued whilst she continued to play, and she must have been terrified, particularly when he began waiting for her outside the stage door. One night the stage door manager told Gertrude that Maesmore had threatened to shoot her, and she had to find an alternative exit .

Divorce in 1897 was a complicated business which  favored the husband. Gertrude had to prove that her husband had been a drunkard for 3 years and left her without means of support. The scandal attached to such a petition and the problems it would cause her son in terms of his inheritance stopped Gertrude from divorce.

1897 was a horror year for Gertrude, and it was compounded when her father Dr Willmot died late in the year. However, showing strength of character and determination Gertrude continued her acting career.

Gertrude stayed with the Julius Knight Company for two years and appeared in plays such as a Royal Divorce, The Cough Drop and the Working Girl. She toured many states including New South Wales, South Australia, Queensland, and Western Australia and received good notices in all of the capital cities. She was highly praised for her beauty, which was always mentioned in reviews, but she had good dramatic skills which were more than adequate for the supporting roles she played.

In August 1899, Gertrude was offered a role as understudy in George Alexander’s London Company. Later that year she travelled to England to take up the role, using her stage name, Mrs Maesmore Morris.

She took letters of introduction from J C Williamson with her and they ensured continued work. She began with Alexander in small parts and as an understudy. One day the leading lady missed the train and Gertrude was introduced as the new American actress by the manager. The mistake was corrected the next day by Alexander contacting the newspapers to ensure they correctly described her as Australian.

She continued working steadily and gained notice for her beauty. She worked for famous managers such as Anthony Hope, Arthur Bouchier and Charles Wyndham and toured the provinces in supporting roles. She was so successful that she stayed for five years.

In 1904 she returned to Australia in a company headed by Nellie Stewart. In October, in Melbourne, she appeared with Nellie and Harcourt Beatty in “”Pretty Peggy” As she took the stage she was applauded warmly by the audience and the critics commented on her improved acting skills and her ever luminous beauty.

Gertrude continued to tour with the Nellie Stewart Company and in 1905 finally petitioned for divorce from Maesmore Morris. All the sordid details of her abuse was publicised in the newspapers and she was granted a divorce, not on the grounds of abuse, but on the grounds of desertion. Maesmore had moved to South Africa to pursue the family occupation of mining. She was also able to divorce because her  11 year old son’s inheritance was secure, his grandfather had died in 1902 and left him a substantial sum.

Gertrude had need of the divorce because she was planning to remarry. The lucky man was Lieutenant R M Suttor of the Naval Reserve and officer on the RMS Ophir. The pair was married in September 1906 and Gertrude gave up her career and stage name, Mrs Maesmore Morris, to retire to private life.

Her son Colin became a tea planter in Ceylon, and in the late 1920s he and his wife made a long visit to Australia which thrilled social circles.

Gertrude died in 1951 in London.