“Our Memory Room”

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 596, 23 February 1929, Page 19

“Our Memory Room”

The Bland Holts Enjoy Retirement

Old playgoefs will remember th glorious age of melodrama under th

signed by that splendid genius Edmund Kean, in IS2U. That was left to Bland Holt by bis father, who, you must know, was renowned as a clown. Clareuce Holt was his name, and my husband got his first training with his father in his circus. That well-pre-served play-bill of Peg Woffington’s benefit at Coveut Garden Theatre in 1757 was another heirloom from Clarence Holt.

regime* of Bland Holt's management, lie and his wife are living in happy retirement at Kew, in Melbourne.

N each and every heart jaSu (writes Mrs. Bland Holt) yyn is there not a “memoiy Ls>j, room” where all the things that have been most fragrant in life are stored? Souvenirs of ambitions realised, of dreams that have come true — and some that have not come true, but that have been happy enough in the dreaming. We have gone a step farther than that and actually have a “memory room” in our house, “Sunning Hill,” at Kew, in Melbourne. Upon the doorway is a small brass plate inscribed with the words, and once we cross its portals we are back in the land of memory—happy memory! Open that door, and lo! the sun is streaming through the windows, bathing all our treasures in a golden light. The relentless tick of Father Time’s clock has turned this quiet retreat of ours into a ghost room. Here we often imagine we can see again those many stage favourites and stage writers who in their day gave thousands of weary workers joy and bodily and mental rest for an hour or two each evening.

That splendid photo of J. C. Williamson he sent to us just before his death, with the words: “There is no friend like an old friend whose life path meets our own, whose Dawn and Morn and Evening have known what we have known.”

That carved desk on the left is’ a much-cherished presentation to Bland Holt from our own Theatre Royal orchestra. That aboriginal skull upon it was a gift from Banjo Patterson—that “fellow of infinite jest.” See here! These tables are spread with tablecloths of the beautiful faces of former stage favourites. A glass-cover now imprisons the smiles that have broken hearts. Ah, the potpourri of the past! My husband is a born property man. He loves to sit here and fashion miniature stages and marionettes to act upon them. He can make anything out of anything—out of nothing, I might say. The biscuit barrel of ours—a golden ball, you see. with silver fastenings, was once a lamp globe in the Coppins' home, “Pinehurst,” at Richmond. Triumphs of the Past Those posters framed on the wall are precious to us. They recall our own triumphs and the “good old days.” See! “The Great Ruby” was one. “Hearts are Trumps,” “Riding to Win,” “The Ladder of Life," and lots more Drury Latte melodramas. In another way this is in truth our “Memory Room,” for the old piano over there we sometimes persuade Bland Holt to sit and play and give us imitations of all the famous people of the stage who have crossed his path. He is a little shy about starting sometimes—needs to be in the mood—but when we get him going he enjoys himself enormously—and so do we.

To us they come again without effort because their pictures and mementoes of their art line the walls of this merry, cheerful room. Here there is sun in summer and glowing fires in winter to give welcome to their shades. The Bland Holt Memory Room is a nook of laughter and kindly thoughts where the living and the dead meet in hazy companionship. Here I sit and sew or chat with firends or write to them. My husband does the same —only he smokes instead of sews. When I take to smoking he will take to sewing—it is a bargain. The “Daddy” of the Stage Over there that large portrait with the light full upon it is the late Hon. George Coppin, the “Daddy” of the Australian stage, and the founder of the Old Colonists’ Home, which has given a sheltered, comfortable retreat to many hundreds in their declining years. Here we have framed portraits of the famous Mr. and Mrs. Charles Kean and some of their letters. Also please note the “pass” for Drury Lane

Memories galore are here of audiences who became our friends, and who will live in our hearts until the final curtain descends! Do you wonder that we love our “Memory Room?”