Showcasing strong performers and big events across the area
GLOUCESTER blacksmith and showman Joe Price, pictured here bending an iron bar between his lips, was one of the best known strong men in the country, wowing crowds with his prowess in the muscle department.
One trick was to write his name on a blackboard, holding the chalk at arm’s length, while at the same time having a 56lbs iron weight suspended from his little finger. He could also rub an iron bar so hard and fast that it glowed red hot and drive nails through a four inch block of wood with his bare hands.
He won the British amateur weightlifting championship by hoisting 481 lbs (over 34 stones) above his head and also the British horse shoeing championship.
In his prime Joe weighed in at over 18 stone and sported an impressive 53 inch chest. But another Gloucester strong man who was a local legend was the diminutive Eddie Fry, aka The Pocket Hercules. Just five feet tall and slight of build, he was nonetheless as strong as an ox.
One feat was to hold a three hundredweight anvil on his chest, which volunteers from the audience then dealt blows with 14lbs sledge hammers. For an encore, Eddie would lie on a bed of nails - fakir-like - with a plank across his chest and another across his stomach. Six men then stood on the chest plank, while six more jumped up and down on the plank.
If you remember 1960s’ Gloucester you may have popped in to the Dolphin Club at 40, Worcester Street for a half of Double Diamond or a Babycham. It was one of the city’s most popular places to meet for a tipple, but had a problem on Sunday nights.
Due to some quirk of the local licensing laws, Gloucester pubs closed at 10pm on the Sabbath, while Cheltenham’s remained open until 10.30pm. Consequently, Gloucester hostelries emptied come 9 o’clockish, as their clientele zoomed off to the neighbouring town to avail themselves of an extra 30 minutes’ drinking time.
In an effort to dissuade its customers from fleeing along the A40, the Dolphin Club staged Sunday evening cabaret. One such entertainment involved a strong man in leopard skin leotard.
For his finale he wrapped a length of chain round his neck and invited half a dozen men from the audience to hold the ends, three either side.
“When I give the signal pull as hard as you like and due to the highly developed muscle system in my neck I will come to no harm” said the man in the leotard.
Whether by accident or intention, the men on the ends of the chain started tugging before the strong man was ready. He passed out, blue of face and an ambulance with clanging bell whizzed him off to the Royal. Happily, The Citizen later reported that he had made a full recovery.
The Dolphin continued to put on entertainment, sometimes featuring big stars of the day. In 1964 Val Doonican appeared on stage, thrilling locals with his lilting Irish voice and nice line in cardigans.
The Tewkesbury author and broadcaster John Moore was a great recorder of local life in the early decades of last century. In his book September Moon John Moore described the change that came to Tewkesbury each autumn when travelling people, girls from the Welsh valleys and pickers from the Midlands arrived to harvest the hops. A high spot of the gathering was choosing the King of the Gypsies. Contenders for the crown embarked upon shows of strength, such as wrestling and tug of war. Then when just two rivals remained, the climax of the contest was reached.
Each would-be king had to stoop beneath a pony and - one arm round its front legs, the other round its back legs - pick up the creature and stagger as far as possible. Whoever covered the greatest distance took the title.
Showmanship of a different kind was on the bill in 1933 when Bertram Mills’
Circus arrived in Cheltenham. The entertainment included “Lineret - the human canon ball” and the crowd held its breath as the slim figure slipped into the muzzle of the impressive artillery piece.
A flash! A bang! And Lineret was seen to shoot out of the barrel, landing a good distance off in the safety net. Three weeks later when performing in Bath, the safety net was not so well positioned and Lineret was killed.
Stage hypnotism is a safer occupation you might think, though not without its dangers as a female member of the audience at the Opera House (now the Everyman theatre) found to her cost in the late 1950s.
Hypnotist Paul Casson was part way through his act putting someone under the influence, when our woman in the audience fell under the spell herself, nodded off, fell forward and broke her nose on the seat in front.
“Piper’s performing birds” was an entertainment much in demand in the Cheltenham of days gone by. A dapper chap, Edgar put his well trained budgies through their paces and they performed tricks on see-saws, roundabouts and fair ground rides in miniatures - all of which were made by Edgar.
Mr Piper also ran a mobile pet shop and sold pets from a pitch in the Prom where he parked his tricycle. Tragedy almost struck on one occasion when a tortoise escaped and made a dash for freedom. The unfortunate reptile was run over by a passing car, but lived.