A lesson from the great man
A story from the memoir of Frank Muir's longtime collaborator, and legendary ITV presenter, the estimable Denis Norden. Norden was working as an assistant theater manager in London, 1940:
On the second Sunday after I arrived, the General Manager left me in sole charge, a responsibility I shouldered fairly adequately until we came to the stage show.
Sunday nights were Amateur Talent Night and by the second performance, it was plain that things were slipping beyond my control.
On the stage, a thin blonde girl was trying to get through ‘Alice Blue Gown’, to the accompaniment of Bobby Pagan…
This exact Wurlitzer, I believe. (Source)
…but the audience was becoming restive. As I watched helplessly from the back of the stalls, the whistles and barracking grew louder and the girl’s voice was becoming ever more quavery.
How it would have ended I don’t know, but I suddenly became aware that a bulky figure in a heavy overcoat and with a pushed-back black Homburg on his head was standing beside me. It was Mr Phil.
Theater tycoons Phil and Sid Hyams with theater designer George Coles (source)
‘What’s happening? What’s going on?’
I could only gesture, ‘I’m sorry. They just won’t – I don’t quite –’
But he was gone, striding down the aisle towards the steps that led up to the side of the stage. Mounting them, he came to the mike and motioned to the girl and Bobby for silence. As the noise from the audience died away, he stood centre-stage and, taking off his black Homburg, addressed them. ‘You all know who I am.’
Indeed they did. Mr Phil often took the opportunity to talk to an audience from the stage and sometimes he would stop by the sixpenny queue to solicit their opinions individually. Tonight, they gave him an encouraging round of applause. He stilled them.
The Elephant & Castle Trocadero (source)
‘I want to tell you something that happened here a few years back. I dropped into the Troc, as I often do, but this time I came in through the stage door. And as I came up the steps, I heard the sound of sobbing coming from one of the dressing rooms. I went to investigate and there sat a young girl crying her eyes out. I said, “What’s the matter?” and she said, “It’s them. That audience. I can’t do it. I just can’t face them. I’m sorry.”
‘So I said to her, “Listen. I’ll tell you about the Elephant & Castle audiences. Yes, they’re hard. They’re the toughest audience in the country. But let me assure you of one thing. However hard they are, they’re fair. They’ll give you a chance. Will you take my word?”
‘She nodded and, sure enough, she went on. And, ladies and gentlemen, may I tell you that girl’s name? That girl’s name was Gracie Fields.’
Star of stage and screen! (Source)
There was a respectful silence. Then from the audience came a yell of appreciation and a storm of applause. Mr Phil nodded to the girl, gave Bobby the go-ahead sign, descended the steps and rejoined me at the back of the stalls. The audience heard the girl out in a silence that was almost reverent and rewarded her with another vociferous round of applause.
When we had retired to the office to inspect the night’s takings, I ventured, ‘That was a wonderful story, Mr Phil. I’ll remember that.’ He gave me that sudden, unnerving grin. 'Pack of lies.'