PERSPECTIVE UKNORTH
People and their profiles: dukes, archbishops, actors, writers, monks, oddbods, the garish, the gregarious - here they are in single file, chosen by chance, by inclination, or by necessity ... and all reflecting, one hopes, the essential, but indefinable, spark that makes one human being interesting to many. Geoffrey Mather
The doleful face. The ringing bell. The assumption of power. Colin Crompton epitomised concert secretaries in a television series long ago. But he did not immortalise them. They immortalised themselves.
Les Dawson told journalist Revel Barker that he had, in his youth, played a working men's club on Tyneside and nobody laughed. Les said that this might not have been unrelated to the fact that the introduction to his act had gone like this:
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you, PLEASE. Now, before we start tonight's entertainment, I know that some of you have noticed that you are eating your pies with plastic spoons. There is a very simple explanation for this. Last night, when the steward counted the cutlery, five spoons were missing. Now, spoons do not go missing on their own. Somebody has those spoons. And the situation is that, well, if you are going to behave like children, you must expect to be treated like children. I would like to see those spoons returned, please. And now, without further ado, your entertainment for tonight, Mr Les Dawson!"
After his performance, thoroughly humbled, Les had climbed up onto a bar stool and waited for the Concert Secretary to bring his envelope."Well, Leslie... we didn't go down very well tonight, did we?"
"No, Mr Concert Secretary, sir, I am afraid we didn't."
"Well, Leslie, I have had them all here, you know. Jewell and Warris, Ted Ray, Bob Monkhouse and Denis Goodwin, Archie Andrews AND Peter Brough... and I wonder, Leslie... you are a young man... are you the sort that might appreciate a little constructive criticism from an old hand in the entertainment industry?"
"I am, Mr Concert Secretary, sir. I am indeed that man. Any pearls of wisdom that you might bestow upon me will be treasured by me for life."
"Well, Leslie," the great impresario told him. "Your act's crap."
I repeated that story to a friend in the pub.. He is a folk singer and former local broadcaster who appeared with a group called The Blue Water Folk. They sang to the usual things - guitars, banjos, concertinas. The concert secretary at one engagement said, "You will have our pianist and drummer for backing." "We don't need them," said one group member. The concert secretary looked very surprised. When he announced them, he said, "Ladies and gentlemen - The Blue Water Folk. Unaccompanied."
To Yorkshire, where a Top of the Pops singer was attempting to make herself heard above the clink of glasses and chatter, "Order, order, please - give the little cow a chance."
Liverpool club. A young Shirley Bassey (Revel Barker again). She was introduced as being "a bit on the dark side, you’ll notice, but she sings none the worse for that."
He also found a gem in an archive copy of the Daily Mirror for December 9, 1944. When Peter Brough and Archie Andrews appeared at a Scarborough theatre they were given separate dressing rooms.
A friend in East Lancashire told me of a top-class comedian appearing in the area. After the show he quietly unwound at the bar, where he was approached by a man who said, "Good show, that. Enjoyed it. I’d like to give you one of my jokes and it‘s a good one for thi act."
The comedian said, "Oh no, if you don’t mind... I’m relaxing... It’s been a hard night. You will excuse me?"
"Excuse thi?," said the man, " - No, I won't. it so happens that I’m on t’ committee and I spent twenty quid coming here toneet to listen to thee, but tha can’t spend a minute to listen to me for nowt."
"I’m sorry, I’m sorry," said the comedian hurriedly. "Just a bit tired, you know? Now - what’s your joke."
"Well," said the committee man, "I can’t tell jokes like thee, I know, but tha’ll be able to put it into thi own words, like, and give it a bit of a polish because it‘s a cracker."
"Go on." said the comedian. "Go on."
"Well," said the committee man, chuckling away as he began, "there’s this bloody big monkey and this nun..." The comedian became ashen as the joke proceeded.
Another leading performer relaxing at a bar after a performance and getting his commupance from a concert secretary was Matt Monroe. The secretary had his envelopes in his inside pocket and worked his way along the line at the bar, small acts first. "There’s yours. Not bad for ten minutes’ bloody work, is it? And here (to a second entertainer) is yours - I wish I got paid that kind of easy money.".
Finally he got to Monroe. He produced a bulging envelope from his pocket. Monroe grabbed him by the arm and dragged him sideways. "Can we do this in private?" he said.
Geoffrey Mather © 2004
3 March, 2007