On looking up at Bathhurst Mansions and finding Orson Welles

Bathhurst Mansions on 458 Holloway Road is an uncommonly pretty building. The ground floor's been turned into drab tat, but look up and (thanks to @RonnieCruwys of drawingthestreets.co.uk) there's all this: 

There's also a story about Irish theatre, queer history and Orson Welles. Here goes:

Hilton Edwards was born in Bathhurst Mansions on 2 February 1903. He'd grow up to direct Welles in his first and last role on stage and (with Micheál Mac Liammóir born Alfred Willmore in Kilburn - see his one-man 'Wilde' here) to live something damn close to an openly gay life in Ireland, 

From  THE TRINITY NEWS (a Dublin University Weekly)  March 10, 1960

CHIMES AT MIDNIGHT -- Gaiety Theatre

Few men of the present day theatre have sought so consistently to throw off the shackles of conventional drama as Hilton Edwards and Orson Welles have done. The combination of their talents promised an exciting evening's theatre--a promise which was richly fulfilled. In Chimes at Midnight, each part of Shakespeare's Henry IV has been cut to about a third of its length, and the two have then been skilfully welded into a coherent narrative by the introducton of a spoken commentary taken from Holinshed's Chronicles.

In the original, Falstaff's part in the action is almost incidental, but in this adaptation it is his relationship with young Hal, and the latter's relationship with his father, which are the main themes. The martial and political events of Shakespeare's two plays are very lightly passed over in this adaptation; Hotspur, for example, is given no time to develop as a character. A great deal of expendable Shakespearian material has been cut; the aim is to give a stirring impression of swift-moving events. The one weakness in the play lies in the ending, where Prince Hal's contemptuous  dismissal of Falstaff seems to point too narrow a moral. Kingly duty, for all its sanctity, seems to be a hollow thing when pitted against Falstaff's lovable vitality. It is true that the defect is present in Shakespeare's original, but it was intensified in the adaptation by the fact that the martial and patriotic aspects of the story received so little emphasis.

With this malleable material at his disposal, Hilton Edwards had ample scope for the demonstration of his fluid conception of the drama. The stage, which had several levels was left bare, although occasional use was made of representational pieces of scenery which served merely to suggest the setting. An army in progress was represented by a roll of drums and a man in armour carrying a banner. The deliberate avoidance of naturalistic effect had the result of vividly stimulating the imagination of the audience, and of imparting an extraordinary pace and panache to the production.

The acting varies from the mediocre to the brilliant. Orson Welles fills the stage with his immense bulk and his hugely whiskered face, and the theatre with his resonant vice and powerful dramatic presence. he captured the boastfulness, the mock hyprocrisy, the lovableness and the cowardice of the Fat Knight. yet there seemed to be something lacking. Perhaps the actor was tired after after the afternoon matinee, but Welles failed to put across the immense vigor of Falstaff. This lethargy extended even to his verse-speaking; his throwaway technique was engaging, but one quickly felt a lack of variation.

Keith Baxter as young Hal gave a performance of great dash and energy which was slightly marred by a lack of smoothness in his diction Reginald Jarman was superb as the King; he gave just the right impression of tortured strength, and he spoke the verse with noble authority. In smaller roles Patrick Bedford was a lively Poins, and Shirley Cameron conveyed admirably the earthy pathos in the character of Doll Tearsheet.

This is a memorable production, in which one partcular moment and one scene stand out. The moment is the sudden, shattering pathos which Welles brings to Falstaff's simple statement to Doll: "I'm old," and the scene, that in which whcih we see the dying King, alone and helpless, with only his crown beside him, in the huge emptiness of the stage.

B. R. R. A.

Bridging the gap to 1914

There were people standing outside the W. Plumb butcher's shop the other week, the first queue it's seen for years, maybe decades.

This was why:

14 young actors from the Brit School (the Adele & Amy Winehouse one) were playing the Plumb family in 1914, with the boys eager to go to war and the girls saying goodbye.

Here they are:

It worked. The space is atmospheric/spooky enough that everything feels distanced from the world outside, and the actors used their youth to be vulnerable and lost, then somehow switched it off (how, I have no idea) to act the adult parts. There was a girl with a very beautiful voice, a boy who turned first into Henry V and then into a butcher and another boy who went from child to corpse to meat. 

More things like this would be good.

Effeminate and Obstinate

This story makes sad and strange reading.

In 1875 William Stafford, an attorney and solicitor living at 49 Hanley Road, was taken to court on the charge of having unlawfully assaulted his illegitimate child, William Stafford, on the 24 of May.

[Bastard, but with his father's name - how did that work?]

On Friday 11 June the  Morning Post reported that 'the complainant, a boy about 14 years of age, stated that his father had twice beaten him so badly that he was compelled to leave his home and go to the Islington Workhouse. 

On the day mentioned in the summons the defendant beat him with a whip which he made him fetch and subsequently when the defendant had had his bath he ordered him to have one and when he was undressed the defendant beat him most unmercifully with a broom. 

The boy acknowledged that he had worried his father, but not until he had made him do so by threatening him. The defendant turned him out of the house, having previously beaten him with a whip on the legs and back. 

There were marks on him where the defendant had beaten and knocked him, and there were also marks of violence on his legs.

Mr Sustins, the master of Islington Workhouse, said the defendant had told him that the complainant was illegitimate, as were his six other children. 

[6 other children?]

On the 6th of May when he examined the complainant at the workhouse he was bruised from head to foot and there was not a place on his body as large on his hand that was free from bruises. 

There were marks on his body and back as if caused by a whip and his flesh was much discoloured. There were marks on his side, stomach, back, body and hips.

Mr Philip Cowne, surgeon of the workhouse, having deposed to the bruises on the boy, said that from his general observation of the boy he had come to the conclusion that he was effeminate and obstinate.

[I'm not sure what 'effeminate' means here. It seems to be put forward as a justification for the father's actions. Perhaps the idea behind it is that a milksop of a boy needs toughening up? Perhaps 'effeminate' is code for homosexual and therefore corrupt and deserving of punishment?]

The defendant said he should reserve his defence and his witnesses for the sessions. He hoped that the magistrate would take his own recognaisance for his appearance. Mr Cooke said he could not do that. He must have some surety in the sum of £25.'

On Tuesday 15 June they are back in the Morning Post. This time the assistant judge is addressing the Grand Jury. 

He says that every father has a right to correct his child, that the boy did not appear to have suffered in health and was by his own admission mischevious and disobedient. 

He also says that 'corporal chastsement [...] should be administered with moderation and not with a vindictive spirit or a cruel indifference.  

He does not, I think, much like the father.

The father was fined £10 plus costs and ordered to keep the peace towards the boy for 12 months. The 20 June Reynolds's Newspaper reported the sentence under the heading 'Cruelty to a Child'.

Aladdin's Cave

If you go to Aladdin's Cave today, you won't find any of this:

Or this:

These will have gone too: 

As will this:

The photographs are over a year old, and, yes, the blog has been quiet for a while. Anyway, I'm out of my aestivation now and have many many things to write about.

Aladdin's Cave, meanwhile, has carried on. It is a pleasant shop and has good things. 

1 Hazelville Road, across from the Shaftesbury and on a bit.

1842 to 1891 at the Shaftesbury, omnibuses, strikes and disorderly mobs.

The other day @jennitpk (who you should follow if you don't already) found an 1842 watercolour of the Hornsey Road on the Museum of London website. You can see it here.*

The artist's a Robert Blemmer Schnebbelie, who specialized in likeable views of London backstreets and poor neighbourhoods. There's a building to the left that looks like a smaller precursor of the Shaftesbury and around it there's an omnibus queue.

There was still an omnibus station outside the Shaftesbury in 1891, when the employees of the London Omnibus Company went on strike. The London Daily News' and the law were, well, unsympathetic.

'Herbert Clarke, carman, was indicted yesterday at the London County Sessions, before Sir P.H. Edlin, QC, sitting at Clerkenwell, for having intimidated William James Perring, with intent to prevent him from doing that which he had a legal right to do, and also with having followed him in company with other persons in a disorderly mob with like intent.

Mr Geoghegan prosecuted on behalf of a London General Omnibus Company; Mr Besley appeared for the defendant. This was a case arising out of the recent strike by the employees of the London General Omnibus Company and the London Road Car Company.

The prosecutor was a driver in the employ of the former company, and did not join the strike. On the morning of the 7th of June, which was Sunday, he left the Holloway yard with his omnibus at a few minutes before ten o'clock for the Shaftesbury Arms, Hornsey road, where he usually began his journey to Victoria. On leaving the yard, he encountered a crowd of some 400 or 500 persons, who followed him down to the Shaftesbury Arms, shouting, hooting, hissing and using violent language. He tried to leave the Shaftesbury Arms on the way to Victoria, but was prevented from doing so, though he had the protection of ten policemen and an inspector.' [From the London Daily News dated Friday 26 June 1891]

* The Museum of London charges £229 plus VAT for one year's non-commercial internet use of the picture. The copyright on the painting expired decades ago but the UK is, as far as I know, the only country in the world where taking a photograph of an old painting creates a new copyright.

Transforming Seven Sisters

Seven Sisters has a name that belongs to a fairy tale, but it's a newcomer compared to the Hornsey Road. It was started in the 19th century and soon it sprawled for miles with no monuments, no squares I can think of, and precious little written about it. 

Now the traffic rushes by all going in the same direction, and the good things about the road (and there are many - Ocean Wave Fishmonger's at No. 60 for one) don't get to flourish as they should. It is a mess, so when I first heard that TfL had plans to scrap the one way system I was delighted and curious and looked for more. Then I didn't find anything. At all. I suppose I could have tried harder, but almost no-one seems to be talking about this even though it could be as important as the plans to scrap the Archway gyratory. 

Enter Nick Kocharook from San Francisco, who's lived in a few places around London, and became interested in TfL's plans when he bought a flat here. He's a democrat and a Democrat, 'because I'm not insane' and is trying to figure out what people would actually want and how to give them a voice, especially those who aren't in the habit of answering consultations/writing letters to MPs/generally sharpening their middle-class elbows.

We had dinner at Ajani's (update review: it's still great, Patrick's still lovely, I recommend the mushroom/halloumi burger) and talked about how cyclists, cars and pedestrians could fit together. Could cycle lanes with proper barriers help people in motorised scooters? If the north side of Seven Sisters becomes a one-way bus lane, what happens to traffic coming down Sussex Way?

He's on twitter as @K9 and as @t7sisters  for the Seven Sisters campaign. Go say hi.

Usually Quiet Hornsey Rise

'The usually quiet locality of Hornsey-rise was, for a short time on Sunday morning, in a state of great alarm. Between four and five o'clock, the police-constable on duty discovered that the shop of Mrs Soans, No 5, Sylvanus-row, was on fire. 

The stock consisted of light fancy goods and the fire spread with great rapidity. The Holloway Volunteer Fire Brigade were the first to arrive, and a plentiful supply of water being at hand, two powerful jets were soon playing on the burning building, but the fire was not subdued until the back part of the premises was totally destroyed, and the front shop damaged. 

Mrs Soanes is insured in the Scottish Union and the building in the Law Life Offices. The engines and men of the Met Fire Brigade, and also a fire escape, attended, but their services were fortunately not required. The police, under the command of Mr Superintended Manson and Mr Inspector Gale, rendered great service. The Holloway Brigade were led by Mr. Superintendent Badeely and Mr. Hollyman. The cause of the fire is reported unknown.'

From the Islington Gazette on 29 November 1870. There were a lot of fire reports back then and they always tell you whether there was insurance and who provided it. I wonder why.