WWI REMEMBERED Impresario’s front-line concerts a tonic for the troops

FOOTLIGHTS, costumes, dropscenes, illuminations, and a full orchestra, with a conductor in evening dress. “Can you picture it, dream it, conjure the thought of it?” So begins one corporal’s written account of a concert party in the Army Service Corps.

Published in the Daily Mail during World War One, at first glance the article could be a West End review.

It describes a captivated audience 1,500-strong, gathered to listen to performances by 30 mouth organs, as well as comedians and impersonators between outbursts of song.

The performance, however, is only miles away from the front line in France.

The colonel writes: “Oh! Ye unhappy men of England who do not know what it means to men who have seen neither lights nor heard music for eternal ages to find a fully-equipped music-hall in sound of the guns.

“There was nothing wanting, no hitch, nothing, ‘left to the imagination.’

“Performances not one-half as good nightly pass muster in our London music-halls.”

A product of months of hard work, divisional concert parties became an essential part of maintaining morale at a time when soldiers needed it most.

Known for their cheery singalongs and poignant reminders of home, in some camps the shows became a statutory requirement.

For others it was simply an opportunity to come together to transform barns, theatres or old town halls into one night’s temporary reprieve.

Despite many troupes being run by ex-professionals, assembling a cast would be a constant problem.

While musicians and singers were never hard to find, many would find themselves constantly moved, or else join the ever-growing casualty list.

Larry Collins, of Military History Monthly, writes: “The staple diet of all concerts was the songs, especially those in which the troops had the opportunity to join in the chorus. The soldiers needed to laugh and sing as a release from the tensions of trench life and the stench of death.

“There were times, however, when the collective rendering of a song could evoke an emotional poignancy that was deeply moving.

“The sentiments and the atmosphere could make even the most warhardened nurse’s throat constrict.”

Of all the performances across the front line, however, one troupe gained a reputation like no other – that led by Welshman Frank Fox.

Born in Leeds before moving to Cardiff, Frank grew up no stranger to life on the stage.

His father before him had worked on the set for Harry Tate, the biggest music hall comedian of the time.

Keen to establish a career in the arts, Frank himself soon worked his way up before joining Tate on the stage as an aide during the star’s famous sketches.

From his classic “motoring” sketches to impressions of fellow comedians Dan Leno and George Robey, by this time the star’s performances had gained a legendary reputation.

It was during this time that Frank learned many of Tate’s signatures which would become so popular on the fields of France – even if not with the comedian himself.

In April 1914, in the months leading to the war, the Welshman volunteered to enlist.

By this time he was living in Cardiff after following his father’s footsteps behind the scenes in the Cardiff Empire.

He was signed to become a driver for the Army Service Corps, transporting men and equipment to the front line.

Not one to leave his talent for the stage behind, however, this was not