Golden entertainment era of the Grand Pier

17 October 2008

This early air picture illustrates the original length of the Grand Pier. It also shows the Birnbeck Pier at a time when it had two jetties.

There are many Westonians who can recall the golden entertainment years of Weston's Grand Pier.

They were years when seasonal entertainment in this town was plentiful, richly varied, and cheap. On the Pier Pavilion's stage appeared many of the most famous actors and actresses and concert performers of the day. There were the plays and musical shows, some of them pre-London productions, others on their first provincial tours with top line companies, sometimes featuring the stars who had appeared in the original West End presentations.

A concert at the Grand Pier's bandstand.

During peak season weeks the bandstand outside the Pavilion was occupied by famous military bands, especially memorable being the visits of the Seaforths and the Gordon Highlanders who, at full military band strength, also featured their pipers and dancers.

What a far away era of Weston entertainment it now seems, and how one regrets that such pleasures are no more. The Pavilion was an excellent entertainment venue, comfortable, with good vision and perfect acoustics.

The former Grand Pier Pavilion's theatre.

Around the balcony was a wide promenade, to which the public were admitted for a charge of sixpence. One had to stand throughout the performance, but if one was early it was possible to get a front position with the support of the balcony rail. Hence the description of this accommodation as 'The Sixpenny Lean-overs'.

The band concerts invariably ended with some spectacular number such as Tchaikovsky's 'Overture 1912', with its thrilling climax in which the roar of battle was topped by the hammering of tubular bells and staccato fireworks obligato. On occasion Alderman J J Lever, High Street ironmonger and gunsmith, would give a fillip to battle realism by firing a small cannon.

Father nurses one baby in his arms and rocks another with a foot while mother sleeps. A scene from one of the Grand Pier's old slot machines.

How pleasant too, to sit snug in a deck chair with a book at the afternoon concerts at the bandstand outside the Pavilion. Here I was often to be found on a Sunday afternoon, lost in The Fifth Form at St Dominic's or some other enthralling school tale or piratical adventure, but sometimes brought back to present realities by a particular piece of music whose beauty lured me even from the doings at St Dominic's.

What delightful, leisurely entertainment it was. The conductor, one often felt, had come to Weston for the benefit of his health. He sat on his chair so long and so comfortably, looked about him, breathed deeply, and occasionally stroked his moustache. Then a bandsman would get up and change the number in the box.

A few minutes later up would get the conductor, and we saw his broad back with that rich red sash, rimmed with gold. He would ship his forces into action, all would be action for a spell, and then there would be another long interval.

I never hear music from Carmen today without the memory returns of the fantasias played by military bands on the Grand Pier. The fantasias, the potpourri, the selections from Gilbert and Sullivan and the musical comedies of the day, how richly they poured from sounding brass and trilling reeds.

What magic still surrounds one's memories of the Grand Pier's theatre. What brilliant entertainment was provided by those No. 1 touring companies. There were the visits of the Carl Rosa Opera Company and of the D'Oyley Carte, and the names of famous folk who appeared on the Pavilion's stage included Mrs Patrick Campbell, Sir Ralph Richardson, Dame Sybil Thorndike, Godfrey Tearle, Pavlova, Vesta Tilley, Barnsby Williams, Edward Terry, Jack Hulbert, Cicely Courtneidge, and Weston-born film star Henry Edwards of The Flag Lieutenant fame.

The famous actress Mrs Patrick Campbell was seen in Henrik Ibsen's Hedda Gabler. Sir Ralph Richardson and Charles Doran came with a Shakespeare company, Barrie's Little Minister was presented, with Fred Emery, and Irene Vanbrugh playing in Barrie's Rosalind.

Stars of the concert platform who appeared included Dame Clara Butt, Kennerley Rumford, Marie Hall, Kubelik, Mark Hambourg, Albert Sammons, Peter Dawson, Mavis Bennett, Dennis Noble and Hilda Blake.

Who now remembers that figure of fun, Dick Tubb? What play he used to make with the decorative female statue at the side of the proscenium, torch in hand, which I seem to remember was nicknamed Lighthouse Liz. And there was the succession of splendid musical shows including No No Nanette, Rose Marie, The Belle of New York, The Blue Train, Lady be Good, Mercenary Mary, Katja the Dancer and Lilac Time.

In generous supply were the farces including those great successes Rookery Nook, Thark, and Plunder by Burnham-connected Ben Travers. It Pays to Advertise and Tons of Money were seen again and again over several seasons, as also were such thrillers as The Ghost Train and high drama plays such as Interference and Butterfly on the Wheel.

Here were also the plays of Eden Phillpotts, including The Farmer's Wife and Yellow Sands. Shakespearean seasons were played by the companies of Sir Frank Benson and Frank Forbes Robertson.

The era of the military band on the pier followed the First World War. Before that there was the music of touring and resident bands, many of them of the Viennese type. They all faded from this country soon after the outbreak of the 1914-18 War. These bandsmen brought colour to the resorts with their continental uniforms. Many of them were exceptionally good musicians. Of special memory in Grand Pier associations is Herr Julian Kandt's Band. There were also the ensembles led by Goetz and Spiegler.

Handsome Spiegler was the darling of the ladies. It's not recorded that they swooned at his solo violin performances, as did the frail ladies of former days at the London concerts of the great pianist and composer Liszt, but Spiegler had a great following.

Nor must one forget the brilliant contribution to Grand Pier and Weston music generally over many years of Corelli Windeatt. He was a violinist of rare talent who studied at the Royal Academy of Music with Prosper Stanton (Court violinist to Queen Victoria). Although only in his teens, he won Royal Academy of Music medals and diplomas and achieved fame as a solo violinist. He was also engaged for concert tours with famous artistes.

Corelli's father was a Weston music teacher and concert performer. Affectionately known as 'Old Boy Windeatt', he was rarely seen without his fiddle box. He taught at the Weston College and other schools and founded and conducted the Weston Orchestral Society. Sometimes at local concerts there were as many as seven members of his clever family in the orchestra.

A breakdown in the health of his father brought Corelli back to Weston to carry on his teaching connections. He also had his own orchestra, which he conducted for seasons at both pPiers and at many events in the district, including the balls arranged by Squire Smyth Pigott at his Brockley manorial residence.

Eventually Corelli returned to London and formed a dance band that became famous the country over and was in great demand for society balls and garden parties. It was featured at the Chelsea Arts Ball at the Albert Hall and at fashionable polo gatherings at Ranelagh.

In the golden years of Weston's Grand Pier there were other special events including confetti carnivals. Leading concert parties of the day also appeared at the Pavilion including The Smart Set, The Vagabonds, The Madhatters, and The Drolls.

There were also the pleasures of the Grand Pier's slot machines. They were not numerous in the early days, and many of them were set up only after the pier came into the ownership of Leonard Guy, being transferred from his Old Pier concession.

Today 'What the Butler Saw' has given way to 'What the Butler Didn't See - in Glorious Colour'.

A few of the venerable machines have survived, and one hopes that when they are no longer wanted they may find a place in Weston Museum.

Among the survivors when I was last on the pier were 'The Haunted House' and 'The Last Days of a Miser'.

For years dust had settled over the Victorian interior with the velvet covered furnishing and waxen figures, but at the drop of a penny the figures would spring to life, and skeletons slide in and out of cupboards with as much alacrity as they showed 50 years ago.

Down the years in 'The Execution' the guillotine has never failed to sever the head of the French Bluebeard, Landru, nor has the chaplain ceased from thrusting a crucifix repeatedly before him in his last moments.

For a penny one could see another famous murderer, Crippen, executed. The trim prison doors opened, and there he was with a rope round his neck. A priest shook with emotion as he waved his prayer book. And then the trap opened and Crippen was gone.

Then there was the domestic comedy, 'Is it Worth It?'

The setting was the old fashioned bedroom, with the washstand, jug, and basin. Father was rocking the cradle with his foot, and holding another baby in his arms.

In bed lay his wife, a beautiful creature with long, dark tresses that hung out over the bed and touched the floor.

Father's labour appeared to have been in vain. He must have been trying to get those babies to sleep for over 50 years!

Dust had gathered thickly on the shoulders of his white nightshirt, and one of the babies.

His wife also looked as if she could do with a good dusting.

There was a Sleeping Beauty touch about it all, and a penny was the Prince Charming. When it dropped father rocked the baby furiously, while mother exposed a glimpse of healthily heaving bosom above the bedclothes.

One looks in vain today for such peep shows as 'The Interrupted Cuddle', 'What the Maid Saw!', 'Oh! The Naughty Boy', 'The Chemise Girl', and 'When Marie Blew the Light Out!'

I take from my files too, a faded card the Gipsy Queen gave me, which states: "Changes of some importance are due to occur in your family life. A relative from whom you have not heard for many years, will communicate with you from abroad."

I wish this relative would hurry up with the good news.

It is more than 40 years since the Gipsy Queen told me to expect it!

This article, edited by Jill Bailey, was originally published on February 7, 1969