The opening production: 9 April 1945
While several of the town’s existing amateur companies offered to present the first production at the new theatre it was agreed that such an occasion should be open to all. George Bernard Shaw‘s Arms & The Man was chosen and auditions were held resulting in a cast consisting of performers from the Dowty Players, the Rotol Players, and Cheltenham Little Theatre. The production had just four weeks to rehearse and was to be directed jointly by Kenneth Thatcher (of the Rotol) and, appropriately, Frank Littlewood.
As the opening night approached, telegrams of good luck were received from many notables from the world of theatre. Bernard Shaw was clearly thrilled that, unlike at Bradford, one of his own plays had been chosen as the first to be presented: ‘Three cheers for Leisured Cheltenham!!! It has trumped the Civic Playhouse of Industrial Bradford. May the example of the twain be followed all over the British Land.’
Cheltenham-born actor Ralph Richardson said: ‘It is good to hear of the opening of a theatre. It is splendid to hear that the Cultural Council is opening a Civic Theatre. It is joyful, to me, to hear that this is in Cheltenham, the town of my birth. Good luck, good luck.’ By a strange quirk of fate, Richardson had himself recently appeared in the West End in Arms & The Man.
The drama critic and editor of the Observer Ivor Brown was also an old Cheltonian and sent his best wishes, as did the actor Raymond Lovell who had been educated in the town, the latter adding a post script: ‘Maybe I shall have the privilege of playing at your theatre soon – I should like it.’ He never did!
Before the curtain went up short speeches were given, first by the chairman of the Cheltenham Cultural Council, Cllr Thompson, who said that the new theatre was an example of the council’s belief that the town’s future lay in its position as a health and holiday centre and a place of cultural activities. ‘Our aim is to build up a standard of acting worthy of the past traditions of the stage, of benefit locally as well as to visitors… It is fitting that proper tribute should be paid to those who have given time and energy to create a Playhouse’ before naming Frank Littlewood, Mr G Wilkinson (entertainments manager), Mr G Marsland (borough surveyor) and ‘especially’ Marsland’s assistant, Mr W Bird. He continued that ‘their efforts have been untiring, and if it had not been for their energy we should not have opened tonight’.
Mayor Cllr Clara Winterbotham then read out the many well-wishes received and commented that Cheltenham had a long connection with drama from its earliest days. Back as far as 1612 there were instructions that when a troupe of players came to the town ‘Dobbins shall go out with his drum, up and down Cheltenham in the market, that those who like to see a play should know the players have come to town’. She officially declared the Civic Playhouse open before a final, apparently witty, speech was given by Cllr H Barnett, himself an amateur actor for 40 years.
As for the performance itself, the Echo declared it was a ‘fine start’ and that ‘the play bore all the characteristics of careful planning and set a standard which promises well for the future of the Playhouse and the players who will make it their home. Everywhere there was evidence , in last night’s performance, of ungrudging teamwork; and much more evidence lay behind it, for the players had not only to rehearse in a theatre encumbered with scaffolding and the disorder of hurried alterations, but had also to paint the scenery and improvise in a dozen different ways. With such hazards behind them and such an occasion before them, the performance might have been an ordeal. In fact, it was a triumph’. Curiously, there is little evidence of much scenery painting in the few surviving photos of the play yet both designer and set painter were named in the review.
Co-director Thatcher also appeared in the production alongside his wife Adele but according to the reviewer ‘the star performance was undoubtedly the Major Paul Petkoff of Sidney A Tilbury, an old professional actor who returns to the stage with obvious relish and brings to the part the sure touches, the power to capitalise a comic situation, of an experienced player’. Also singled out for particular praise was Edward Little ‘who filled the part of Sergius at short notice, took the bull by the horns and barnstormed his way through the play with most happy results’.
The seven performances attracted an audience of 1551 patrons although the actual seating capacity of the auditorium is open to question; one report stated it could hold 250 and another 280. No seating plan from these very first years survives but council minutes make it clear that the seating was all on one level and that while the chairs were laid out in rows with a central aisle down the middle, none of them were fixed to the floor.
Early rehearsal venue
The Civic Players were formed in September 1946 as the resident amateur company of the theatre; other amateur groups hired the venue but the Players were created especially to help fill empty slots in the calendar and to help promote the best standards among the groups.
Although performances were to take place at the Playhouse it was not possible to rehearse there, and to begin with rehearsals were held in a hut at the rear of the Town Hall. The photograph above suggests there were, at this time, two wooden huts of reasonable length but fairly narrow of width; rehearsals cannot have been easy.
Kenneth Tynan’s Hamlet: August 1948
In March 1948, the Oxford University Players accepted an invitation to appear in Paris in a play by Maxwell Anderson called Winterset. Such was its success that when the same students decided to stage a production of Hamlet at the Cheltenham Playhouse over their summer break it was heralded in no less a publication than The Times as ‘the main theatrical event of this week’ outside of London.
Its director, who would also play the Ghost, was Kenneth Peacock Tynan, soon to become a leading theatre critic and writer, and later Olivier’s literary manager at the new National Theatre. He was also the first man to use ‘the f-word’ on television and devised the infamous nude revue Oh! Calcutta! which ran for over 3,900 performances in London beginning in 1969.
Tynan intended to present the play ‘as a political tragedy of assassination, espionage, and fear, with the Prince becoming more and more brutal as he is brought into contact with the world of cold politics’ and to use the rarely performed First Quarto text of Hamlet which although printed in 1603 was not discovered until 1823. The cast was made up of the best talent the university had to offer (not just members of the Oxford University Dramatic Society) and Tynan couldn’t have known that many would go on to careers as illustrious as his own, not only in theatre but also business and law.
Born in Bishop’s Cleeve, Robert Hardy – whose father was headmaster of Cheltenham College –doubled A Sentinal, First Actor and Fortinbras, perhaps giving little indication that he would later become one of the country’s busiest and most recognisable actors. He made his professional debut at Stratford in 1949 and appeared in Shakespearean roles for the next decade. Lindsay Anderson turned his back on performing to become a film critic and then a notable theatre and film director, most notably If… starring Malcolm McDowell which was filmed in Cheltenham in 1968 with many Playhouse amateur actors appearing as extras. He made a brief return to acting with a role alongside John Gielgud in Chariots of Fire.
Jack May had an extensive career in theatre, television and film but achieved immortality on radio by playing Nelson Gabriel in BBC’s The Archers for 45 years, making him the fourth-longest serving soap opera actor in the world at the time of his death. Peter Parker was regarded as the best undergraduate actor at Oxford but opted to go into regular business rather than show business, eventually becoming chairman of British Rail. Knighted in 1993, he had four children, one of whom, Nathaniel, is himself a successful actor. Alan Cooke became a director, working mainly in television and especially in America; Felix Waley was called to the Bar, becoming a QC and eventually a judge; and Derek Holroyde became a producer at the BBC.
The Players’ earlier appearance in Paris must have suggested to the editor of the Gloucestershire Echo that this production of Hamlet – albeit still an amateur show – was going to be rather different to the usual Playhouse fare, as he somehow persuaded the noted Shakespearean actor-director Donald Wolfit to come from London and give his verdict of opening night.
Wolfit had performed at the Old Vic and then the Shakespeare Memorial Theatre (later the Royal Shakespeare Theatre/Company) in the 1930s before pouring his own money into creating a touring company. Two years after his visit to Cheltenham he was awarded the CBE and seven years later he was knighted for his services to the theatre. He was considered something of a joke, a barnstorming ham by many others in the industry although audiences responded very positively to his performances, especially as King Lear.
His review, under the heading Oxford Players’ Achievement in Hamlet, was three times longer than usually allocated to the Echo’s theatre criticism but is worth quoting in full: ‘It was an exciting evening at the Civic Playhouse on Saturday. The Oxford University Players, well known both here and in Paris for their work under the direction of Ken Peacock Tynan, presented Shakespeare’s First Quarto Hamlet for the second time in England in the last quarter of a century.
‘Having myself played Hamlet in the previous performance in London in 1934, I may say with Fortinbras that “I have some rights of memory to this kingdome”. One is somewhat nervous of amateur performances of the classics, but Mr Tynan’s production invites criticism on the highest level and should be judged as such, for it is a solid achievement.
‘The 1603 text is a tense, taut version of the greatest tragedy in the world. It is more than probable that it was Shakespeare’s first acting version. Certainly the transposition of the soliloquy on death and the nunnery scene makes for lighter playing and is clearer to the audience, as is also the Queen’s reaction in the second half of the play.
‘The diction of the players was excellent and the speech of the Prince of Denmark impeccable. Thus one great drawback, inaudibility, was conquered. No one was in any doubt as to what was being said, and the familiar thoughts, although couched in unfamiliar phraseology, made their immediate and lasting impact on the audience.
‘Mr Tynan has seen fit to dress the play in Georgian costumes. Although it did not hamper the play, it is the worst costume for the amateur, for it demands such grace and deportment in the wearing, and much that was meant for grace on Saturday night only succeeded in being clumsy on the small stage. The mausoleum setting was very effective and well lit, and with adaptation would have served for the whole play. The Georgian drawing room was less regal than old-fashioned boarding house.
‘The production as a whole has two failings. There was no sense of horror from the players on the appearance of the Ghost, and without that the opening scenes are lost, never to be retrieved. Secondly, in whatever period the play is dressed, the scene is laid in the Court of Denmark, and due deference to King, Queen and Prince must be observed. Courtiers do not turn their backs on royalty under any circumstances. It is wrong and it is bad for the play. These faults can, and no doubt will, be corrected in subsequent performances. Also there was too much eavesdropping without warranty.
‘One or two liberties taken with the text were unpardonable and should be altered at once. The recorders scene should follow the play swiftly without a fall of curtain, and to have a Rossencraft and his fellow on stage during the King’s Prayer makes nonsense of the situation, which would otherwise have the audience spellbound. This was a grave error, as was also the interpretation of Horatio as a bearded professor. Hamlet needs youth beside him, not a greybeard. Excellent as Mr Lindsay Anderson was – perhaps the second best actor in the company – he should change places with Corambis [Polonius] without delay.
‘Generally, the playing was on a high level. The ladies were over-parted, but Doreen Zimbler made a brave shot at the tragic Queen. Evelyn Arengo-Jones gave a good study of a light0of-heart Ophelia – a sister to Cressida, one might say – in the opening scene, but was at a loss when insanity came upon her. She should doff her court wig for this scene and loosen her hair. Her exit crooning over the lute as if it were a still-born child was a fine touch.
‘The producer himself gave us an effective ghost, which would be even better if he discarded the modern craze for crediting Hamlet’s father with sepulchral asthma. There was clever doubling of Voltimar and Grave Digger by Derek Holroyde, and an outstanding priest in a few lines by Felix Waley. William Patrick essayed Claudius, but he lacked the essential weight and his drunkenness was not effective. Heavy drinkers seldom show it. Alan Cooke was a virile Laertes and handled his sword well, although deprived of the duel.
‘All this endeavour would have been lost without an adequate Prince. Peter Parker, greatly to his credit, served the author faithfully and well and thought his way through every line of the play. He has grace, excellent diction, and a most valuable habit of repose on the stage. The first picture of him leaning on the mantelpiece perusing a volume was memorable, and he grew in stature with the play, and will grow more with subsequent performances.
‘He should leave a vision of a dead prince in the minds of the audience, and lie on his father’s tomb with his face upturned to those stars which Hamlet searched with questioning eyes for resolve and inspiration from the moment when he grew, as indeed he does grow in this earlier version, from the pen of William Shakespeare to capture the heart and mind of the whole world.’
Tynan was presumably pleased to read this relatively positive verdict on his efforts from his youthful hero. At the age of 10 he had seen Wolfit play Macbeth, an experience that left him ‘scared for days after’ but fostered his permanent love for, and desire to be involved with, the theatre. In the early-1950s he continued to defend Wolfit when others decried him as old-fashioned, stating that he ‘dominates the stage not with the effortless authority of kingship, but by a mighty exercise of talent’. He tempered his praise a little in later years and Wolfit came to dislike his usually harsh attitude as a critic.
A devastating fire: April 1950
On the evening of Tuesday 25 April 1950, the Civic Players presented the third performance of their production of Noel Coward’s play Present Laughter. It was, according to its producer Jack Lowley, ‘the best show ever staged at the Playhouse’. It was to be the last show staged at the Playhouse for some months to come.
The Gloucestershire Echo front page told the story the next day: ‘Mr Jack Greening, of 44 Marle Hill Parade, raised the alarm just before midnight, seeing smoke and sparks as he walked along Bath Road. People rushed from their homes nearby to see the flames and smoke pouring out of the theatre, and firemen preparing to fight the theatre’s first fire since it was opened just over five years ago, and the worst in Cheltenham for years… Children gazed up in wonder at a fireman perched on top of a 100-foot turntable ladder, directing a hose from right above the roof. Soon water was gushing out of the theatre and flooding into the streets… Flames leapt from the blazing roof and smoke hung thickly in the Bath Road area.’
‘Firemen ripped away zinc covering on the roof to get at small pockets of fire between the roof and the ceiling. Inside, the firemen were working in choking smoke and in swirling water.’ The fire was brought under control some 50 minutes after the alarm had been raised and worked through the night salvaging and clearing up. Their swift response prevented the fire spreading to either the adjoining boiler house or Medical Baths. The Present Laughter cast met at the theatre the next morning and their view must have been very similar to the photograph taken that morning to accompanying the Echo’s report.
The women’s dressing rooms on one of the balconies had been totally destroyed along with everything in them. Glass and silverware props on the set or in the wings had melted. A piano belonging to the Ginner–Mawer School that used the building for children’s dance and drama classes was ruined. Although the frames of the wooden proscenium arch that separated stage from auditorium remained in place, most of the wooden panels themselves no longer existed.
The costumes worn by the cast had all been provided by the actors themselves. Mrs Truda Tom had three changes of costume during the play and her wardrobe had included a South of France evening frock, an ornate petit point evening bag, and several hats, pairs of shoes, bags, gloves and handkerchiefs; she estimated their cost at around £150! She was most upset, however, at the loss of her make-up box which had travelled around the country with her in her days as a professional actress.
Incredibly, the production carried on without skipping a single night. ‘There was no need to put the show on’, said Jack Lowley, ‘but the cast met at 9 o’clock this morning and they were unanimous that it must go on. We feel, after all, that we have a duty to the public. A lot of people had paid for their seats.’ One of the cast members had only just had a telephone installed at her house and the first call she received on it was to tell her about the fire.
The Girls’ Grammar School offered to host the remaining performances in their main hall – charging £3 10 shillings per night – and the council laid on, at a cost of £20, three special double-decker buses to take patrons from outside the fire-damaged Playhouse to the school until the end of the week. The cast arranged new costumes, borrowed a huge number of props and pieces of furniture, and were still painting a new set two hours before curtain up.
The Chronicle reported of Wednesday’s performance that ‘The Players needed a little time – but only a little – to get used to their new theatre. After getting accustomed to the longer auditorium, and the consequent necessity for adjusting voice-pitching, the Players got quickly into their stride… a performance which was every bit as well dressed, well staged, and superbly acted as their original first night last Saturday’.
But what of the theatre itself? What caused the fire and where did it start? The Fire Prevention Authority told the Echo the morning after the inferno that they had been ‘unable to ascertain the cause of the Civic Playhouse fire but it definitely started in the vicinity of the stage’.
Definitely? Although no further public statement was made on the cause or location of the fire there seems sufficient evidence to doubt this and to suggest that the fire began in the ladies’ dressing room balcony. Comparing the two published photos of the aftermath shows that the wooden struts of the dressing partitions are severely charred and everything on the balcony reduced to cinders, whereas the wooden struts of the proscenium arch on the stage do not appear to be charred to the same extent. In fact, the left side of the proscenium (as you look at it) is still standing.
The men’s dressing balcony and costumes on the opposite side were untouched by flame, only suffering water damage. While glass and silver props had melted, a Constable painting on the set was damaged by blistering from the heat but not destroyed. Firemen are clearly walking on the wooden stage floor and there is still canvas on some of the flats used to create scenery. If the fire had started in the vicinity of the stage, surely there ought to have been greater damage to this area and the scenery rather than the total gutting of the balcony.
When the balconies were built in 1900 they were given glass ceilings to allow natural light to pour into the swimming bath but had been painted black at the commencement of the Second World War to ensure no light escaped during blackouts. The glass was still present when converted to a theatre. It is more likely that the fire commenced on the balcony where the wood and outfits easily combusted.
As the heat intensified the glass ceilings began to crack, allowing air to enter the building and help spread the fire along the balcony and towards the stage. The glass that fell onto the balcony floor then melted and you can still see this today, the balcony now being used for sound control and follow spot operating.
The Playhouse Sub-Committee met the day after the fire and their minutes record that the resident stage manager/carpenter, Jim Smith, ‘a most reliable and conscientious member of the staff, had, in accordance with his usual practice, made an inspection of the building and particularly the dressing rooms, at approximately 11.20 pm’. Note the particular emphasis being made toward the dressing balconies despite what the Fire Prevention Authority had stated the same day.
Smith had been tasked with inspecting the building each night eleven months previously when the Entertainment Sub-Committee rejected the proposal of the entertainments manager that the night watchman of the Town Hall should visit the Playhouse for 20 minutes every night at around 11.30 pm as part of the council’s fire precautions.
The main auditorium was connected to the boilers but the radiators in the balconies had been mistakenly removed in 1947 and so electric radiators were being used for the dressing rooms. According to the minutes Smith stated that he had ‘disconnected the electric radiators in the balcony and everything appeared to be in order’ yet the fire was raging enough some 30 minutes later for it to be spotted by Jack Greening as he was walking home. Did Jim Smith miss seeing something already smouldering on the balcony during his inspection or had he not been as careful about ensuring the electric radiators had been switched off as he claimed?
Were these actually radiators as we understand them or electric fires which could easily cause a costume placed too near to catch light? We know that smoking was permitted by the actors because 13 months previously council minutes record that a clothes rail, mirrors and ash trays were to be installed in the dressing rooms. Could a carelessly discarded cigarette have caused something to smoulder?
In one of those strange quirks of fate, a little over a month earlier Gloucestershire Fire Service had arranged a lecture for the Town Hall and Civic Playhouse staff; the Service were – according to the Entertainment Sub-Committee minutes – ‘entirely satisfied with the existing arrangements’ with regard to fire precautions.
The council kept Smith employed throughout the five months of closure by deploying him to the Borough Surveyor’s department before returning to his regular duties at the Playhouse. He had been at the theatre since day one and was still there when it celebrated its tenth anniversary in 1955. It was in that year that the council finally noticed that they were still paying him the same weekly wage – £8 – that he had started on in 1945 despite the fact that other council employees had received ‘large increases’ during this time. It was agreed that from 16 November this would be increased to £10.
A rejuvenated theatre: October 1950
The Playhouse was insured in the sum of £28,000 and the claim made by the council in July amounted to just over £3,600 (the actual settlement received being £3,385). This sum enabled considerable improvements to be made to what had always been intended as a temporary theatre to begin with. An Echo reporter was given special access a day before the official reopening and declared that the ‘rejuvenated Civic will please everybody… Like a Phoenix, the Playhouse has risen from the ashes to which a considerable part of it had been reduced on that fateful April night, a finer, brighter, much more serviceable version of its old self’.
To begin with, the whole theatre had been replastered and repainted; half the ceiling had been reconstructed and a ventilation duct installed along almost its entire length to try and help keep the auditorium cooler in the summer. But the most obvious change, visually, was to the 1900 viewing balconies which had been partitioned vertically and along their length to act as cramped and unsatisfactory dressing rooms. Although only one side had been severely damaged in the fire, both had been reduced in length by one third, stopping several feet short of a new brick and concrete proscenium arch. This opening up of the balconies added greatly to the theatre’s atmosphere according to the reporter, while Cheltenham’s assistant entertainments manager declared that ‘Without the balconies, the Playhouse would just be another hall. With them, it is a theatre.’ The removal of the balconies along the side of the stage also gave increased space to the actors and crew.
There had been discussions prior to the fire to try and find a way to improve the dressing room facilities and the idea of using part of the Medical Baths that adjoined the theatre had been presented as a possibility. With the fire creating a lengthy period of closure and the ever-dwindling receipts of the Medical Baths, this idea now became a reality. Around one third of the Baths was annexed and altered to provide six dressing rooms capable of accommodating between 50 and 60 performers. A corridor dividing them also connected with the auditorium to supply greater emergency exit provision and better access to the ladies’ toilets, both of which had previously been via a corridor under the balcony and along the side of the stage.
All of the stage wiring and much of the lighting equipment had been replaced and it was felt that it was no longer suitable for the lighting technician to operate the switches and dimmers from the side of the stage. The new controls were therefore placed on a new platform – known as ‘the perch’ – built 12 feet above stage level and accessed by a permanent ladder, from where the technician could watch everything happening during the performance without actors getting in his way.
The platform (no longer used) is supported by one of the 1869/70 pillars but shows the original decoration at its top; this decoration was encased in plasterwork in the 1900 refurbishment and was presumably smashed to create the platform.
The improved Playhouse officially opened on Saturday 7 October 1950 and after a few words of welcome from Cllr Waite Cheltenham Operatic & Dramatic Society – still in existence today – presented the first night of their latest production. Sadly, unlike the glowing review of the improved theatre, the Echo was unimpressed by both the choice of play, and the performance.
‘To call Robert Morley‘s comedy Staff Dance “flimsy” is being kind – “pointless” is the adjective it really merits. It starts well enough. At the end of Act I… the curtain goes down, leaving us anticipating enjoyable developments. For all that happens afterwards it might have well stayed down. The original plot just disappears.’
(source: Gloucestershire Echo 9/10/1950)
The unnamed reviewer continued: ‘It would have been surprising if the performance had been able to rise above mediocrity. The piece started (quite well) as light comedy; sank, in a deathly Act I Scene 2, to the level of a Middle School production; and then was suddenly jerked by the advent of producer Leslie Hall, deputising for John Howell as the householder, to extravagant farce. Finally – even if it was a first night – the voice of the prompter should never have been heard so often; and worse still were the frequent near-gaps when half-remembered lines were glossed over.’
Ouch!
Notables from 1962: Josephine Barstow and Terry Hands
In July 1962, a production of Romeo & Juliet was presented by the Guild Theatre Group, a small touring troupe connected with, and consisting of, recently graduated students from the University of Birmingham. As with the earlier productions staged at the Playhouse by OUDS the cast contained two young actors who went on to have very illustrious careers.
Terry Hands played Mercutio before attending the Royal Academy for Dramatic Art (RADA) where he won the gold medal for acting. He then established, as a director, the Liverpool Everyman before joining the Royal Shakespeare Company, becoming co-artistic director alongside Trevor Nunn in 1978 and chief executive in 1986; as Director Emeritus and Artistic Director he directed more productions during his 25 years there than any other director in the company’s history. In 1997, Hands became Artistic Director of Theatr Clwyd, saving the theatre from closure. His directing credits included productions in Berlin, Brussels, Chicago, London, New York, Oslo, Paris, Tokyo, Vienna and Zurich and he was awarded the CBE for services to theatre. He died in February 2020.
Josephine Barstow played Lady Capulet then made her professional operatic debut as Mimi in La Boheme in 1964, going on to become one of our most successful and lauded operatic singers, noted for her acting as well as her voice. She has performed in almost all the major opera houses around the world with many of the most celebrated conductors. In 1986 she made an historic trip to the Soviet Union singing Tosca and Lady Macbeth. In recent years she has also performed in musical theatre, most notably Heidi Schiller in the 2017 and 2019 productions of Follies at the National Theatre and Madame Armfeldt in A Little Night Music for Opera North Having been awarded a CBE in 1985, she was made a Dame ten years later.
Hands and Barstow married in 1964 but divorced three years later.
What the papers said: reviews of 1948
A positive review in the Gloucestershire Echo occasionally resulted in a negative response – or sometimes three – from the general public via the Letters to the Editor column, such as this one signed ‘Student’:
‘I was delighted to see two letters of protest against Bats in the Belfry. As a student of dramatic art I, too, was appalled by the play, and ashamed that our Civic Players were not capable of selecting at least a decent comedy for Easter week. I fail to see any dramatic or production value in such vulgarity. Surely a producer could, and should, desire to find something more worthwhile for his actors and public? But to me the greatest tragedy was the fact that so many Cheltenham people revelled in this type of entertainment. As long as people enjoy such plays and spend hours working on them, what hope is there for the moral and cultural standards of this world?’
Bats In The Belfry, Civic Players
‘Shorn of its value as propaganda on a controversial issue, it is a dull play… In view of the number of members on which the society can call, it is surprising to find some of the cast who are not entirely at home in their parts despite the experienced direction… Peter Davies would do well to eschew too much earnest grimacing…’
The Gleam, Cheltenham Operatic & Dramatic Society
‘Evelyn Holme & John Ringham* had the difficult task of playing hysteria convincingly, which they did for the most part, although Miss Holme was inclined to over-emphasise a little. However both performed well. But, Miss Holme – nail varnish in 1912?’
An Inspector Calls, Civic Players
*Cheltenham-born John Ringham turned professional shortly afterwards and joined The Compass Players. He was best known for his role in the 1980s sitcom Just Good Friends.
‘After a start dangerously near the mediocre… finished up in fine style. For most of the first act the action was stilted and more than one player was guilty of a woodenness of bearing and an unconvincing delivery of his lines. But as the evening progressed the company got their teeth more into the play and they must be congratulated on their handling of the denouement; it was dramatic and quite one of the most exciting episodes seen and heard at the Civic Playhouse for some time.’
And Then There Were None*, Dowty Players
*At the time, this Agatha Christie thriller was known by a different, racist title.
‘This is no easy play for the amateur actor or actress. It has several of those emotional crises wherein one false step must bring catastrophe, and a number of long speeches which the player must get over or commit the cardinal sin of the theatre – bore his audience. On Saturday the players were spared a calamity and the audience boredom. The acting was generally good although the prompter’s services were required a little too much, even for a first night.’
Unknown performance