Good morning starshine
New Zealand welcomed a steady stream of global stars in the ‘‘golden age’’ of touring entertainers.
Before movies, television and the internet, lavish touring stage shows were the most popular form of entertainment in New Zealand.
So when, in 1905, theatrical entrepreneur George Musgrove brought the smash-hit musical
Sweet Nell of Old Drury, starring Nellie Stewart, to this country, it was wildly popular.
At one venue, though, described only in print as ‘‘a provincial town’’, the show’s advance agent struck a problem.
He went to the leading hotel seeking accommodation for the cast but the proprietor told him: ‘‘We’re full up. People have booked rooms from all around the country for the night to see the performance. We can’t take Miss Stewart or any of the company.’’
The advance agent pointed out that it was Stewart who was attracting all that business to the hotel. ‘‘I can’t help that,’’ said the hotelkeeper, who became rather terse on the subject. A telegram to Musgrove described the situation.
‘‘Then cut [the town] out,’’ came the wired reply. ‘‘Announce fact morning paper.’’
So on the appointed date, the company passed straight through
the town by train, leaving it behind without a glance. ‘‘All the rooms booked at the hotel, it was said, were cancelled.’’
This anonymous, missed-out town – which one could it have been? – wasn’t Palmerston North.
On the contrary, on July 15, 1905, Sweet Nell was performed in the Opera House to a rapturous reception.
In Music and the Stage in New
Zealand (1944), author Maurice Hurst wrote about the golden age of live touring theatre, up to the days newfangled movies seduced away many of its audiences.
Established actors, singers and musicians from England, America and Australia, travelling the circuit and treading the boards on all kinds of stages, in all kinds of weather, north and south, staying in fine hotels or freezing shared rooms, came to create momentary magic.
Hurst pointed out that even crime writer-theatre director Dame Ngaio Marsh was once a ‘‘statuesque young woman in small parts’’, who in 1920 toured with a company led by Australian director and actor-manager Allan Wilkie. Marsh’s novel Vintage
Murder is woven around the adventures of a touring theatrical company in New Zealand – and theatre is featured in several of her other books.
After the ‘‘wonderful decade’’ of 1921-1930, Hurst adds, New Zealand audiences were flocking to the silent films of Mary Pickford, Norma and Constance Talmadge and William Desmond. ‘‘News of the theatrical slump had been soaking through by every mail from New York and London for the past three months.’’
And yet huge stars were still coming to New Zealand, such as violinist Jascha Heifetz, Marie Tempest, Gladys Moncrieff, comedian Joseph Coyne, Oscar Asche, Scotsman Harry Lauder, Manawatu¯ ’s Rosina Buckman and Fritz Kreisler, along with full-scale
The Peep Show Revue, Belle of New York, Merrie England
and many others.
One of the most exotic stars ever to perform in Palmerston North – on October 11, 1932 – was Italianamerican opera singer Amelita Galli-curci.
Galli-curci, born in 1882, studied piano at the Royal Conservatory of Milan. Composer Pietro Mascagni noted she had a unique voice, and told her: ‘‘There are many gifted pianists but not so many gifted singers. I advise you to become an opera singer.’’
Galli-curci’s mother disapproved of this choice.
The family couldn’t afford singing lessons, so the young woman taught herself singing technique, with the help of her grandmother, a former professional soprano.
Later, as a fully fledged opera singer, Amelita married Luigi Curci, Marchese of Simeri – she would hyphenate his name with hers ever after.
America beckoned in 1916. At the Chicago Opera this ‘‘unknown’’ was engaged for two low-paid performances. In best storybook tradition, Amelita made a sensational debut and a glowing review by Chicago Daily Journal critic Edward C Moore propelled her to stardom. After divorcing Luigi Curci, Amelita married pianist Homer Samuels, became an American citizen and commanded some of the highest fees – often $2500 a performance – paid at that time. She also made several recordings, accessible now online.
Galli-curci and Samuels visited New Zealand first in 1925 to wildly enthusiastic audiences.
It was said she was paid £1000 a concert. Seven years later, in 1932, they were back, welcomed just as warmly, including in Palmerston North. This tour was recorded by journalist Robin Hyde in the ‘‘Footlights’’ section of her book
Journalese (1934).
Dressed in her signature vivid colours, the ‘‘little singer was alive to her fingertips’’, she wrote. While in Wellington, Galli-curci had given chocolates and signed photos to humble music-shop girls who had promoted her recordings.
However, Hyde also noted unflatteringly that: ‘‘Her youth and her gift were so far on the wane that the Galli-curci legend would have been utterly defeated – had she not remained Galli-curci.’’
Three years later Galli-curci, now 53, would have a large growth, which she called her ‘‘potato’’ removed from her neck. Though the surgery improved her breathing, the famous singing voice never recovered, and she retired. Galli-curci died in La Jolla, California, in 1963.
In some further reminiscences in ‘‘Footlights’’, Hyde told readers: ‘‘There were some desperately funny little crises in plays of the old days. Gaston Mervale, villain of Sherlock Homes melodramas and ... the nightmare doctor of The
Speckled Band absolutely refused to play unless he could have a real snake. As New Zealand’s laws prohibit the importation of such, this proved something of a strain on all. The difficulty was overcome by the use of a carefully-smuggled, but very harmless, grass snake. It came to a bad end, being assaulted by a rat. After that, the rubber article had to do.’’
Established actors, singers and musicians from England, America and Australia ... came to create momentary magic.