Belfast, Christmas 1919 ... a tale of two cities
Barely 12 months since the end of the First World War, the city was gearing up with gusto for the festive season 100 years ago. But behind the tinsel, there lay a darker side. Keith Haines reports
Aquick perusal of the Belfast Press towards the end of 1919 may have convinced the reader that the only downside to the festive period was the fact that the trams would not run on Christmas Day. One headline seductively offered “Peace with Turkey”, which, seasonally disappointing, proved to be a reference to the continuing Versailles peace conference.
The contemporary enduring Brexit issue was a revision of the 1914 Home Rule Act, which debated the exclusion of Ulster; the Belfast Telegraph commented that, as in recent times, “We do know that no party wants it”. The equivalent of the Queen’s Speech was the address by Sir Edward Carson, endeavouring to offer comfort and reassurance.
In its first issue after Christmas, one local newspaper enthused: “Very few houses were without sprigs of mistletoe and borders of evergreen and at night there was the glow of Christmas lanterns to give beauty and warmth to the surroundings ... The gifts have been bewildering in their variety and many of them have been very costly ... The children have been particularly lucky and some of them have received more presents than they can ever hope to make good use of. The business establishments were kept open until a late hour on Christmas Eve and up to the last moment they were besieged by customers.”
The pantomime at the Grand Opera House was a sell-out. Impresario Fred Warden, the owner of the theatre, had produced Sinbad for his 25th season, which was declared as good as ever “musically and spectacularly”. Christine Roy made “a handsome and vivacious principal boy” and Edward King “the king of laughter-makers ... provokes merriment by his clever singing of Shoe Strings, intensified by the gusto with which he renders Where
Do the Flies
Go in the Winter-time?” A young
Little Marie Swanton also graced the stage; she “is quite a child, but she is a clever and graceful exponent of the terpsichorean art” — and her father just happened to be the show’s musical director. With tickets available from Crymble’s of Wellington Place, other theatres and cinemas boasted a variety of offerings, including Charlie Chaplin (above
left) in Sunnyside and Triple Trouble and Gloria Swanson
(left) inflaming a love triangle in Every Woman’s
Husband at the Royal Cinema (also owned by Fred Warden).
Such was the singular popularity of the contemporary film industry that one company advertised improbable postal courses in Cinema Acting for £2 10s (£2.50) — in the silent era, the calibre of one’s voice presumably did not feature.
The Hippodrome continued to offer the mysteriously-named act: “Foster Kershaw, the entertainer without a piano, & Co”.
At Royal Avenue Bella Donna (set in Egypt) and A Still Small Voice were paired, both of them concerned with theft, deceit, transient love, betrayal and attempted murder, thus creating the template for Emmerdale.
The Ulster Hall was a regularly booked venue. With prices ranging from 1/3 to 3/6 (for reserved seats), the Belfast Philharmonic, featuring no fewer than 400 singers, presented its annual Messiah Concert on December 19 and 20. At the same venue, Mrs Whale’s pupils offered “a very pretty pantomime”; the review suggested that it will have been much appreciated as “the care she bestows on the training of the youthful attests”, although there is a hint of the Trunchbullesque in the revelation of “her passion for correctness and thoroughness in every detail”.
The more discerning male sophisticate will have ventured, perhaps in a raincoat purchased from W J Marshall in High Street to the adjacent Panopticon cinema, where Fred Stewart sold his darkened seats for Queen of the Sea.
This featured the nubile Australian Venus and former swimming champion, Annette Kellermann, who in 1916 had been the first woman to appear naked on the screen. Stewart’s advertising described her as “finely shown both as a mistress of natation and also as a beautifully-modelled woman”.
If these patrons subsequently returned via Donegall Place, they may have been momentarily enticed by Thornton’s Home of Rubber, although then been disappointed to discover that it actually sold motor car and cycle gear. Sauce for the gander was reflected to some extent by the goose. A few days before Christmas, the Belfast Telegraph’s fashion column reported that close wraps and high six-inch collars were now in vogue.
It was a contrast to the last few seasons when “even with a heavy fur coat, the bare chest and low neck have been well exposed ... The non-decollete modes are certainly a welcome change, and much more healthy and suitable for the chills of winter”.
This was, of course, directed at the wealthier classes, as was Lady Edith’s household column in the Belfast News Letter. Whether or not this was really compiled by the recently elevated Marchioness of Londonderry is not made clear; it discriminated nevertheless in favour of the prosperous social spectrum.
Recipes — all using margarine instead of rationed butter — were presented for galantine of chicken (“serve on a block of aspic jelly”) and spiced round of beef, which required 10 lbs of silverside and necessitated basting several times a day for at least a fortnight (“put in two silver ornamental forks to keep in place”).
❝ One firm advertised improbable postal courses in cinema acting for £2 10s