OLD SHOWMEN NEVER DIE

New Zealand Listener, Volume 13, Issue 332, 2 November 1945, Page 14

OLD SHOWMEN NEVER DIE

The Man Whose Bald Head Gracie Fields Kissed

HERE was so much of it and it was all so interesting to anybody fond of tracing the progress of entertainment in New Zealand from early days till now, that it took me more than two hours to interview Bob Hardie. Even ‘then a lot was left out. You may ask: "Who is Bob Hardie?" He is known by sight to all patrons of the Wellington Town Hall and personally to almost every singer, actor, musician, boxer, and wrestler who has appeared there for 26 years. He won't mind if his profile is described as being very much like Mr. Punch; the accompanying photograph bears that out. "Bob"-he prefers it to "Mr.’-has pushed and pulled at more grand pianos than he cares to think about; and "he has hauled up and down thousands of tons of stage curtains, scenes and drapes in his time. He is the assistant custodian, but has himself been a professional comedian and has appeared, in some theatrical capacity, in almost every town in New Zealand. We began our chat with the days when Bob was a programme boy at the —

old Exchange Hall, Lambton Quay, and finished with the kiss which Gracie Fields imprinted on his bald head in public a few weeks ago. There was no need for press cutting books — his memory was good, He went back to his days as property and baggage man with Charlie Naylor, the elder, in a vaudeville show’ up and down the North Island, and then told of -his rise to resplendency in a boiled shirt when he became house manager for Hall and Valentine’s Entertainers for six months. Companies of all types were on the road at this time and there was little worry about getting an audience. Bob joined Cooper and McDermott’s panorama and musical show and then Vanberg’s dramatic company in the Federal Hall, Manners Street, where the leads were George Coppin, jun., and his wife, Millie Collier. When the company broke up he was "out of a shop" for a while before going into partnership with one McAuley, and enjoying considerable success. Gee-up! . Old-time players did all their own work, travelling in horse-drawn waggons sometimes, and living more or less a

gipsy life. One show, which Mr. Hardie took north when the main trunk railway was being built, played in billiard rooms and even in blacksmiths’ shops. Stages were built of timber borrowed from near-by mills. These shows were crowded out, the audience occupying even the rafters. This company, Bob said, was an_ early sample of socialism in its simplest form. It was run on "commonwealth" lines, members dividing the profits when expenses had been paid. But success went to the heads of some of the players and at Hamilton quarrels started. The show was sold up and disbanded. (continued on next page)

' (continued . from. previous page) Long before Eddie Bergen and Charlie McCarthy became film famous with their ventriloquial act, «Bob Hardie took a ventriloquist through the country, performing at schools where children paid 3d_a seat. Magnanimously the company made donations to each school’s cricket club-a subtle form of advertising. The ventriloquist was Delmonte, a Dunedin boy who had been *taught ‘by George Dickie, an expert voice-thrower-if ventriloquists do throw voices. Now came the silent picture, with its threat to legitimate actors. With a man named Bishop, Bob took a film called "Living London" on tour. "This film," he says, "was very fine, even if the scenes of Cheapside were a bit dark." A high-pressure cylinder which Bishop used for lighting had to be charged every three days. A fire was built round a retort filled with potash and manganese, the pressure came up, and on went the show. But at Ohakune it exploded, frightening the whole town. ote "Films in the Goldfields , I asked how the public took to moving pictures. "They were a bit doubtful at first," he said. "They came along out of curiosity, mainly. After I had run a season in vaudeville with my wife, Ethel Bolton, I had another go at pictures with E. C, Cutts and his Pybus Bioscope and Vaudeville Company through the goldfields in the Waihi and Karangahake district. We did very well."

Because, in 1914, a coloured performer was on the bill, an audience in a town near Mount Egmont was displeased. The locals were critical about America’s attitude to the war and took it out on the negro by refusing to listen to his items and throwing firecrackers on the stage. The coloured man appealed to the audience. It was not his fault, he said. The audience realised that, and "gave him a hand," but when the company struck the scene for the night members found that their coach had been pushed down a steep incline, a bullock team being necessary to haul it out: On the same tour the company was stranded in a small town which did: not possess a store. Though Bob had £300 in his pocket, all he could buy in provisions was six dozen eggs. Between then and 1919 he was in various theatrical enterprises before taking up his appointment at the~ Town Hall, Wellington. Here he assisted in preparing stages for such artists as Jascha Heifetz, the Verbrugghen Orchestra, the Sistine Choir, Fritz Kreisler, Dame Clara Butt, and scores of others. Dame Clara sent him a pair of gloves from England; but somebody envied

them and they were stolen. Worse luck came. when his flat was burnt out and he lost all his household goods as well as many valuable souvenirs. Probably. the affection which Clara Butt felt for him was due to a little attention he showed her by making the ramp to the stage a trifle less steep and building three small steps. Artists "Upstage" Temperament, somebody said _ recently, is temper too old to be spanked. I asked Bob if he had even fallen foul of a diva in tantrums or a male artist "getting all upstage." Madame D’Alvarez, he said, once wantéd the house lights on when she made her first entrance, but the management

had. other. ideas, ordering just enough lights for the audience to read the pro« gramme notes. "Tll go mad-stark mad!" stormed D’Alvarez. But she didn’t. She calmed down and sang three numbers, and when coming off said: "I’m very sorry, Bob; -not your fault." Occasionally the Town Hall is occupied with wrestling and boxing. For a ring stage extension, without ropes, was once used. Coir matting was laid round it to catch the bodies which were hurled out. Now a proper ring is erected. There is a special way of doing this job and Bob has had to teach many a promoter’s assistant how to work the straining irons. He has built choir platforms from which imposing ranks of sopranos and contraltos sang lustily, supported, musically, by a solid phalanx of dress-suited basses, baritones and tenors. ~ A Letter from Gracie Though he has been concerned principally with the management of entertainment enterprises, Bob and his wife, known as Delmar and Bolton, did actual stage work for some time. Mrs. Hardie was originally with P. R. Dix, Rickards, and other Australian shows. In a little attache case he keeps a short letter from Gracie Fields, It runs: "Tf only we. two were single, Bob." "And what,’ I asked, "does Mrs. Hardie think about that?" "Oh, she understands; she’s an old trouper herself," he said. "Thanks for dropping in," added Bob. "T get a great kick out of talking about entertainments which might give young people of to-day a surprise."