January, 1934. Radio listeners had a new treat waiting for them at the local newsagents: a bumper magazine jam packed full of articles about all things in radioland. Radio Pictorial included up and coming programmes, articles about the BBC, features on popular dance bands and radio stars.
For this issue, I found an article by Val Gielgud (brother of the actor John Gielgud) of particular interest. Fond of detective stories, Val wrote many radio plays in this genre with editor of the Radio Times, Eric Maschwitz.
As far as I am aware, no British radio dramas from the 1930s survive, but Sherlock Holmes radio plays dramas Val directed in the 1950s, with his brother John playing the detective survive.
In the above article, the reader learns that Val was a rather eccentric character with his monocle and pipe, and fond of serious radio plays. He was of the opinion that comedy worked better in a visual form (which would of course have been film and theatre in those days).
In July 1930 Val directed the first ever television drama, The Man with the Flower in His Mouth, by Luigi Pirandello.
Radio Pictorial also included some adverts of very attractive radio sets.
I really would’ve found it hard to have chosen between this beautiful Ekco Radio and the Falcon set shown below. The Falcon is especially Art Deco looking!
Then we have these classy Equilode speakers, which were the height of technology in 1934.
A very rare collection of British radio broadcasts, from 1932, which are charming to listen to. I have noticed on YouTube and Instagram that some clever technical fellas rescue old radio sets and adapt them with modern day wiring to turn them into speakers. Broadcasts such as these, would sound perfect through an old radio repurposed as a speaker. It would be doing what it was made to do…
Pdfs of the Val Gielgud article and radio ads can be downloaded below.
Unlike most people (it seems!) I’m not a “Christmassy” person, so my blog has been quiet this month. I have never had an Xmas tree, baubles or tinsel decorate my home! Winter is my least favourite month too: I dislike the cold weather and the short dull days. It makes me lethargic and wishing the Spring was here already. I thrive on sunshine and long days. However, I did find the following footage of winter scenes from the 1930s rather interesting to watch.
This one is even shot in colour!
I don’t know what year in the decade the one below was filmed, but it is said to be “the coldest December of the century.” Bizarrely there was a draught and you’ll see women queuing up to collect water from a standpipe in the street. A draught in winter is very unusual!
Another article from the November issue of Radio Review from 1935; this one is by the musician Les Allen who was a saxophonist and vocalist, born in Ealing, London in 1902. His family moved to Canada when he was 3 years old, where he grew up. In 1924 Les came to London with other Canadian musicians.
After touring Europe for a time, Les returned to London in 1927, the following 5 years saw him playing and singing with several leading British dance bands, such as those led by Geraldo and Carroll Gibbons. He also did some free lance recordings with Al Bowlly. As he described in the above article, he joined Henry Hall’s BBC Dance Orchestra in 1932, where he was the featured vocalist. Below is one of the recordings he made with Henry Hall.
In the article Les related that Henry had heard one of his recordings on the radio and got in touch with him to arrange an interview. He waited to hear from Henry and got a sudden call to fill in for Henry’s usual vocalist who was ill. Les of course jumped at the chance! He found himself thrown into the deep end, having only two hours to learn and rehearse “some fifteen to eighteen numbers, fully a dozen which were unknown to me. Heaven knows how I did it.”
It was all worth it though, because Les wasn’t that well known at this point in his career, and he soon found himself receiving fan mail from “love sick maidens who poured out their hearts to me.” To his readers he asked: “How would you feel?” I expect he was quite delighted but he “managed to keep my size in hats down.” What a quaint way to put it!
He credited Henry Hall in helping him stay “level headed.” He found the dance band leader to be a “fine old English gentleman” who acted as his “guide, philosopher and friend” who treated his musicians with kindness, enjoyed a joke and really got to know the musicians as friends. Henry was very approachable and was always amenable to giving advice to the musicians in his orchestra.
Les described how much hard work went into their broadcasts but clearly enjoyed it nevertheless. So much professionalism went into what they did. When Les got offered work in variety, Henry didn’t try to prevent him pursuing it and wished him well, with his band Les Allen and His Canadian Bachelors. Below is one of the recordings Les made with this band.
Here is an article, from a November issue of Radio Review magazine in 1935 by radio commentator Howard Marshall on the subject of the cosiness of his home being central to his happiness. He was a commentator for live broadcasts of state occasions and sporting events for BBC radio during the 1930s. It’s rather charming that he described himself as being “old fashioned” for preferring evenings by the fireside rather than being at the cinema or a dance hall.
His home was “an old farmhouse” which he described as having “no gadgets” except electric lighting. The farmhouse sounded charming, with stone flagged floors, some rugs for warmth, “an old sea chest” where he kept his hats, bookshelves, old armchairs, and dogs lying by the hearth. The photograph shows Howard and his family relaxing by the old fireplace, which is a scene that still many of us aspire to today, especially vintage people I see on Instagram.
He regarded “modern chrome plated furniture” as being austere and was of the opinion that older wooden furniture was “friendly.” I tend to be in agreement with him that wooden vintage/antique furniture does have a certain warmth about it.
I recently bought a Victorian sideboard and it might sound whimsical, but it really has changed the atmosphere of my sitting room. I am not alone in that feeling, because when I invited a neighbour in to see it she immediately remarked how it had changed the atmosphere!
It is beautifully carved with ornate brass handles and inside some of the drawers there are some ink stains, which add to its charm. It does need a little TLC : a professional polish and the hinges on the doors need replacing, but nothing new on eBay could come close to its beauty, even if it is a little shabby right now. I bet Will from The Repair Shop could make it look amazing. I bought it from an Oxfam shop for £75.
At the moment, to keep the left door shut there are two elastic bands!
But back to Howard Marshall. After describing some of his friend’s homes he went on to acknowledge that “so many of my fellow countrymen are forced to live in conditions which make happiness in the home virtually impossible.” It is nice that he realised how fortunate he was because in the 1930s many Victorian court slums were still in existence with people not much better off than their parents and grandparents had been.
I expect Howard had seen a few because he expressed that “I look forward to the day when every family in Britain shall at least have the opportunity to be happy.” It is a sentiment that is still relevant today.
I am very grateful for my little vintage style flat in a late Victorian terraced house. I still have a way to go to get it as vintage as I want it to be, though. This couple in the video below have my dream home! A 1930s semi complete with a 1929 cooker and 1937 fridge! I cannot take it that far due to having a modern fitted kitchen supplied by my housing co operative, so as I go along, I’m making it more of a retro 1950s looking one with the decor and vintage kitchenware.
For my own fireside I have an electric fireplace, which I think dates from the 1980s. I bought it from a very sweet lady off eBay for£65. As you will have seen in the video, there were electric fireplaces in the 1930s, which they had fitted into the fireplace. Mine doesn’t look quite like the one in the video, but it has a lovely wooden surround and creates a cosy look.
I had been looking at the new electric fireplaces with surrounds one can find on eBay, but I found out that the LED lights on them are not replaceable! This one had kept coming up in my search for electric fireplaces and I decided it was the right one for my room. When it was in place it looked and felt that it “belonged.” Like the Victorian sideboard it has added to the cosy vintage atmosphere I wanted.
This recording by Ray Noble and his Orchestra, with Al Bowlly on vocals, evokes the sentiments Howard Marshall expressed perfectly.
The Hardwicke House, as it is known locally, is a sorry looking sight, slowly decaying, and rumoured to be haunted by the ghost of its former owner Leslie Hardwicke. The legend has it that one rainy night on the 31st of October, 1934 Leslie descended into madness, after his flighty wife left him for her Italian lover. The old house’s walls echo with whispers of “Goodbye–goodbye!” followed by high pitched laughter. However, it has to be said, these rumours began after a group of hippies in 1969, when squatting there, heard said whispers and laughter. Older folk in the village, when they heard about it, just rolled their eyes, and remarked that all the strange cigarettes the hippies smoked probably had a lot to do with the ghostly manifestations. Sixteen years have passed since the hippies left The Hardwicke House, and few people have dared to venture inside since. The last to do so was an odd old woman, who strangely disappeared after being seen climbing through one of the windowsby the postman.
“How do you like it so far?”
He handed her back the piece of paper. “Not bad. Are you planning to take them inside? The place looks like it might fall down any minute!”
“Oh it’s fine! The roof is still on and there aren’t any big holes in the floorboards.”
“Hmm! You little daredevil you! Well, I wish you luck with your ghost tour. Sorry I can’t come, can’t get away from the hospital.”
“Never mind, doctor mine. I can always arrange a special tour just for you,” she smiled.
Leslie is in the bedroom putting on his shoes, when he hears laughter coming from the hall downstairs. No,it can’t be!
Excitedlyhe peers over the bannister. “Lola! Is that you?” Silence. The house feels like it is holding its breath. He hurries down the stairs calling her name, going from room to room, but the house is empty.
He rubs the back of his neck. I must’ve drank too much of that whisky last night.
It’s been just over a week since Lola left. He plays that night over and over in his mind.
“But- but why?” he asked, his voice shaking with shock, whilst Lola packed her suitcases. “I thought you were happy— we were happy!”
“I just got bored is all,” she drawled. “I’m goin’ back to New York with Mario.”
He stood there helplessly whilst she snapped the suitcases shut.
“Goodbye!” she trilled, pushing past him and hurrying downstairs, her heels click clicking on the wood, like a frantic woodpecker.
The front door slammed shut, and she was gone.
He told his friends that Lola was visiting family, and would be gone for a while. He knew deep down that Lola would never leave him, that she’d be back soon. The strange old woman who knocked on his door a few weeks after Lola left had told him so.
Lost and soaked through from the heavy downpour, he felt sorry for her when she asked to use his telephone.
“Sorry, I haven’t paid the bill,” he said sheepishly, “but come in and get dry by the fire. I’ll make us some cocoa.”
Seated by the fire, the old woman squinted at him through her spectacles.
“I see a golden haired lassie walking down yon stairs,” she suddenly said in her funny accent, which he couldn’t quite place. She waved a knobbly finger in the air. “But she will be back! Oh yes, she will return.”
He stared at her. “What do you know about her? Who told you?”
The old woman tapped her head. “Nobody told me lad. I knows things. I just knows.”
“I’m not certain I want her back, to be honest–” began Leslie, not wanting to appear like a sap, but inside his heart beat faster.
“But she will be back nevertheless,” interjected the old woman.
She rose from the armchair. “Thank ye for the cocoa. Here-” She reached in her pocket and held out a silver coin.
“Oh dear me no, no need to pay me!” Leslie exclaimed.
The old woman let out a croaky laugh. “Nay, ’tis not payment, but a lucky coin for ye!”
“Oh I see,” Leslie decided to humour the funny old woman, and took the coin and was about to put it on the table, when she waved her knobbly finger at him. “No lad, keep it in yer pocket, all the time. For the good luck then will be on ye.”
“Oh I see, right you are,” Leslie replied and put it in his trouser pocket. He stood by the fire, tapping his pipe on his leg. “Look, I cannot let you go out in such dreadful weather– would you like to stay the night?”
The old woman looked at him, and a look of horror flickered momentarily on her face. “No sir! Thankee but I could not stay here.“
Bemused, he thought to himselfbut she is so old, surely she cannot think-
“My intentions are entirely honourable,” he stated lamely.
The old woman looked at him as if he was crazed. “I am ninety years old. And I must be on me way now.”
“Will you be alright? Where will you go?” Leslie asked. “Do you need a map?”
“A map? Why would I need a map lad? I knows this village like the back of me old hand.”
“Right you are, “Leslie said, thinking she must be a little confused. Oh well, nothing much I can do about that.
Later that night his head hurt and Lola haunted his dreams. The old woman appeared and waved her finger at her blonde head and she vanished.
The weeks pass and the house remains quiet, but with a queer atmosphere like it is waiting for something, or perhaps someone.
Leslie is uneasy and invites his friends from the office over several times a week for drinks after work, so he has some company. He mentions the curious old woman, but none of them have the faintest idea who she is. They bring over their gramophone records and the house feels brighter for a few hours, but once they are gone the same eerie feeling returns.
One night Leslie is seeing the last of his guests to the door.
“See you at the office on Monday old chap, keep your chin up!” With that his guest steps out into the dark cold night. Leslie shuts the door.
Goodbye- goodbye!
He whirls around. “Who- who’s there?” His voice quivers.Silence.From the sitting room the gramophone clicks on and begins to play a record; one that he recognises as one of Lola’s favourites. How can she be haunting me? She isn’t dead!
Leslie dashes to the front door and runs down the road, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He runs and runs, not looking where he is going and collides with a constable on his beat, who takes great offense and hauls him down to the station, and books him for being drunk and disorderly.
I should’ve kept that coin in my pocket, Leslie sits with his head in his hands in a cell with a dirty old tramp who keeps singing some old folk song over and over.
The Sergeant comes to the cell. “Pipe down if you know what’s good for you!” he shouts at the tramp.
He unlocks the cell and orders Leslie to come with him. “I do apologise for the mistake sir,” he says and lets Leslie go after explaining that Constable Hubbert is new on the job and rather overzealous.
Out on the street Leslie slowly walks back to his house with trepidation. He decides that if anything else should happen tonight he will face it like a man and demand an explanation. The house feels warmer than when he left it, despite the fire having gone out hours ago. As he gets undressed for bed something shiny falls to the floor with a tinkling sound. Thesilver coin!So I did have it after all! Then he remembers that he had spilt mustard down his grey pair at tea time and had changed into a black pair afterwards.
As he bends down to retrieve the coin it falls into a gap in the floorboards. He tries in vain to pull it out but it vanishes into the dark slot. Oh why didn’t I have that repaired? he reproaches himself. He decides to have a handy man come over in the morning and pull up the floorboard, then feels foolish. Fancy believing that queer old woman!
He is woken in the middle of the night by a faint sobbing. Then a white mist appears over the end of his bed and the outline of a woman starts to form. He yells and pulls the cover over his head.
“Leslie– Leslie –”
He peers over the blankets. “L-Lola?”
There she is sitting at the end of his bed, dressed in an expensive evening gown. “Oh Leslie, Leslie–” she cries. “Mario he done me wrong. He’s no good! I’ve come back Leslie. I’ll never leave you again, I promise. Oh forgive me-“
Leslie flings the blankets aside and dashes to the bathroom and locks the door.
The ghost tour was going well. The Hardwicke House was full of creaky creepiness and, according to one person there were voices whispering in one of the bedrooms, whilst another claimed he saw the face of an old woman at one of the windows when they were going inside, but the windows were so cracked and dirty it was easy to imagine seeing a face in the dim light.
“So do you believe this house is really haunted then?” a young man aged about eighteen with a blond mullet asked the Ghost Tour leader, as they were making their way from looking around the bedrooms and going back downstairs.
“No,” she laughed, “But it’s fun though!” And made me a few quid too. But she kept that to herself.
“Hey did you hear that?” Mullet Boy said. “Sounds like a crackling sound- oh-listen!”
From downstairs they heard the scratchy sound of an old record playing.They all rushed down the staircase.
“In here!” shouted one of the men.
They all crowded into the former sitting room of Leslie Hardwicke, and saw a shellac record spinning round on the old gramophone.
“Was that you?” they asked each other. Nobody owned up to putting on the gramophone record.
Click on the above to go to YouTube to see the Gramophone play the eerie song: This House Is Haunted, by Roy Fox and his band.
An immersive vintage experience: last Tuesday’s lunch, cooked as authentically as possible from a 1940 cookbook. I only substituted the butter for Flora margarine, the milk for organic almond milk and the cheese for Applewood vegan cheese (I seem to be lactose intolerant so I’m on plant based alternatives for dairy).
I admit to steaming the potatoes in the microwave instead of baking them in the oven to save electricity and time, but the rest of the methods I stuck to. I used a mechanical blender which I chopped the nuts up in.It’s called a Multi Chef, and I’ve had it for about twenty years, which to some people, is getting on for vintage.
I’ve actually got a blue metal 1930s/1940s mincer/chopper, but it’s a bit rusty, not very operational, and so kept for display rather than use, but the Multi Chef is a modern version of a hand turned mincer/chopper.I do like to use my vintage kitchenware if it’s safe (no lead glazes, flaking paint or rust) and operational. The kitchen scales work very well and look very attractive. I did buy a digital one last year but couldn’t for the life of me figure out how to use it, so I gave it to a friend.
You must be wondering by now: how did the Nut Pudding turn out? It turned out exactly as described! It took about thirty minutes in the oven on moderate heat as instructed. The Applewood vegan cheese melted and took on that slight crispy, stringy texture of cow’s milk cheese, and was surprisingly like dairy cheese. I had only ever had it cold and grated on jacket potatoes, in gluten free rolls/bread and mixed in salads before. So, if anyone reading this is vegan, this recipe can also be made into a vegan one, by using the plant based alternatives as I did, but also using a vegan egg replacer.
The Nut Pudding tasted very vintage and wholesome, and I drizzled some tomato ketchup over it and served it with vegetables and some leftovers of sweetcorn and a home-made butter bean dip, as seen in my little slideshow. It’s quite substantial; a hearty Autumnal meal. The nut content has enough protein not to need another protein served with it, so some steamed vegetables are the perfect accompaniment.If you like heavier flavoured food, which a lot of us today like, myself included, you could add some spices of your choice to the dish when you mix it with the milk in the saucepan.
The music in my slideshow is entitled Amapola by Geraldo and his orchestra, and was one of the recordings on a Memory Lane CD named *Singers On Parade that I was listening to whilst cooking the Nut Pudding. When dining on the Nut Pudding, I listened to a special 1936 radio broadcast of Oscar Rabin’s Romany Band. It has recently been discovered! You may listen to it on YouTube, as I did:
This cookbook I found in Tesco’s book donation point about four years ago. It is entitled Farmhouse Fare. The recipes are from real housewives and “collected by The Farmers Weekly.” The Farmers Weekly, a magazine for British farmers had its first issue on the 22nd of June, 1934. It is still in circulation today. The front cover of the cookbook is no longer attached to the spine (but all the pages are intact so they sit inside it); it’s got foxing and an ink splotch on the cover, so it isn’t an especially “pretty” looking book, but I love it for its character and history (and of course the recipes). To me, it is very special.
Inside the front cover written in blue ink can be seen : Mrs D Davies, 52 High St Criccieth. This building in Wales still exists! It is now a delicatessen. A photo of it can be seen in the link below:
I wonder if this was once the house of Mrs Davies, or was it a shop that she worked in and lived above? She might even have cooked the Nut Pudding herself a few times and served it up to her family. All those years ago I bet she never would’ve imagined someone in the future would find her cookbook and be trying out the recipes, and wondering about her life. The same goes for Mrs Taylor from Buckinghamshire who created the Nut Pudding recipe. I wonder if it was a family favourite and her descendents still cook it?
The recipe for Savoury Nut Pudding can be downloaded here as a pdf file:
Every year the great new entertainment medium of television gets nearer perfection — and the film makers are wondering how it is going to affect them so wrote a John K. Newnham in September, 1938.It is really interesting to ponder on these words, because the following year the second world war brought an abrupt end to BBC TV broadcasts for several years, so whatever “perfection” of television broadcasting they anticipated didn’t come to fruition. I wonder in what context this meant; improved picture quality? Types of programmes? Improved sound? Or all of those? Whatever they had in mind, they probably were not envisioning the sharp full colour high resolution of modern television programmes. In terms of human history, 84 years is a very short time, but I think it’s true to say that anyone in 1938 would’ve been astonished at the picture clarity and colour of today’s television sets, not to mention the size of them! Televisions in those early days had tiny screens set into big wooden cabinets. This web page has a photograph of one.
Below we can get an idea of what people would have viewed.
The following month, an unexpected thing happened. Strange atmospheric conditions caused a BBC broadcast to be picked up in New York. Thanks to two television enthusiasts, who had the foresight to capture the BBC images using a cine camera in front of a television screen, we can see a few moments of British television from those early days.
It will not be long before all cinemas will be equipped with television sets. I did a wry smile at this one until I read on that they did indeed equip some cinemas with television sets, but they seemed to have been there as a novelty that attracted the curious rather than large audiences. The BBC also were not keen on broadcasting their programmes in cinemas, and the poor picture quality did not lend itself to large cinema screens.Despite the title, I think cinemas and film makers had little competition from television in the late 1930s, especially as most people couldn’t afford to buy a television set, and many areas in not only Britain but other countries had no coverage.
Mr Newnham, however, was very enthusiastic about the idea of installing television sets in cinemas, and thought that the two could become “allies” rather than “enemies.” But it was not to be. The outbreak of the following year put a stop to television in London for several years. It’s interesting to wonder what developments might’ve gone ahead had there been no war.
The same concern- that people might stay at home and watch television rather than going out to a cinema to see a film, is one that has been an ongoing topic of conversation and concern since television started to get established. It did take awhile before cinemas got closed down, but yet they have survived even in our age of internet streaming.
The whole article can be downloaded to read in this pdf.
An advertisement for radio sets with a new concept back in 1938: push buttons to take the listener to another channel, instead of turning the dial. Move over DAB radio! Below is an actual Pilot radio set in action. This one is the usual one, with a dial to tune in. I love its Art Deco appearance. The way it sits there on the sideboard proudly!
Front cover of the September the 16th, 1938 issue of Radio Pictorial.
I’m very glad there was no modern pop music coming out of it; doesn’t seem right that these old radios should have those sounds coming out of them. My Camry CD retro radio has never been tuned into any radio station; instead I just play CDs on it of 1930s dance band music. I’ve got some Ray Noble CDs that are from his American radio broadcasts, so that gives a great atmosphere of listening to a vintage broadcast.
On the page of the advert are tips from various chaps on “how to get the most of your set.” I am not at all technical, so I don’t know if these tips and suggestions are equally as helpful to the modern collector of old radio sets.I thought it would still be of interest to such fellows, so a pdf of the page is below.
This issue of Radio Pictorial also contained a full page feature photograph of Al Bowlly: on that night he was going to be on the BBC radio show Give Me Air, aired at 7.30 pm.I wonder what he sang…
The front cover of Radio Pictorial, September the 25th, 1936.
Roy Fox, the American dance bandleader, based in London was a very busy fellow! On this day of September 25th, way back in 1936, this interview article was published in the music and entertainment magazine Radio Pictorial.
Roy as you will see, loved working in music, especially discovering new vocalists, and helping them launch their careers.He was very impressed with a Scottish teenager named Mary Lee (who incidentally was the last living person from the British dance band era until March this year, when she passed away at the grand age of 100).
Radio Pictorial, September the 25th, 1936.
In 1935, Mary had recorded the “hot” number Truckin’, with Roy Fox’s band.I think you’ll be able to hear what a mature voice she had for a teenager. She also had a more American sound to her voice. If you’ve heard any of Roy Fox’s earlier recordings from 1931 when he was working at the Monseigneur restaurant, you’ll notice how different his 1935 band sounded to the one he led in 1931.It’s a looser, more swinging sound.
Here is a clip from Len Goodman’s Dancing Feet: The British Ballroom Story, first shown on 27th December 2012, where Mary reminisced on her time with Roy Fox’s band.
To find out more about Mary Lee, here is her Wikipedia entry:
A starlit night, a man and a Spanish beauty, and a song that tells the tale of their romance. The song sent me into a reverie, and imagining Al Bowlly as the singing waiter and a “what might have been.” The song also sounds like it could be a scene in a film, with Al and Ray Noble playing the parts.
Was in a cafe where I first met you Amid the haze and song Just like a dream How my heart was beating While my lips were still repeating Vows of love, by stars above
Oh, my lovely Belle Of Barcelona Though I thought my heart was fancy free I’m caught beneath the spell of Barcelona Hoping that someday you’ll care for me
For with eyes aglow, your gaily dancing Into my heart That’s why I long to hear Your lovely Belle Of Barcelona Whispering that wish We shall never part
Albert was down on his luck and needed a job. His last job as a singer in the fancy hotel hadn’t worked out; not that the clientele hadn’t liked his singing (far from it) but the band leader had a habit of turning up drunk and arguing with the manager over the choice of music. After one too many incidents like this, they were let go, and a new band was hired. As the new dance band had a beautiful blonde singer with a voice like a nightingale, there was no spot for poor Albert.
So, a few days later he found himself waiting on tables in the little cafe along the seafront. The manager Carlos, was a genial sort of fellow, but he insisted on calling Albert “Alberto”, due his dark looks. Carlos didn’t seem to mind when Albert, or Al, as he liked to be called, burst into song at the tables because it amused the customers. He didn’t even get cross when Al flirted with Maria, his pretty daughter who performed the flamenco at weekends in the cafe.
Truth be told, Maria rather liked Al and welcomed the attention he gave her. Unfortunately for Al, lots of other men flirted with Maria too, and he had a lot of competition to try and win her heart. He won it in the only way he knew how: his wonderful voice, for nobody else could sing like he could. Soon enough Maria, was in his arms one starlit night as he murmured words of love in her ear.Before he knew it, Carlos and his wife Isabella were arranging their wedding.
Al had finally fallen on his feet, not only did he have a pretty Spanish wife (even if she didn’t speak much English) but he was given some hours a week to sing with the new dance band Carlos hired. The cafe became very popular and their takings doubled. Life was grand! He forgot his ambition to make it to London and get his big break singing with the premier dance bands there.
One afternoon, three months after their wedding, two Englishmen came into the cafe and ordered some drinks. They were polite and sober unlike the other Englishman at the bar who impatient for his tapas, and so sozzled thought the bowl of nuts on the counter was his the only thing they were going to serve him. As they sat down they nudged each other when they spied Maria come out of the back room in her colourful gown. Their eyes followed her as she walked to the area where she performed her dance.
“La Danca!” they called out enthusiastically, to which Al responded by clapping his hands exclaiming Si si Senor!” and burst into song whilst Maria danced.The two Englishmen were enchanted by this spectacle, and not a little impressed by Al’s voice too.
“He has very good English doesn’t he Dick?” one of the gentlemen said to his friend.
“I’m not convinced he’s a Spaniard old man, despite his swarthy looks,” replied his tall thin fair haired friend.
The shorter man still hadhis eyes still fashioned upon Maria. “She is a real beauty that girl!“
Dick gave him a wry smile. “Fancy your chances eh Max?”
Max soon found his hopes dashed when the singer informed him that Maria was his wife.
“Hard luck old man,” Dick said patting his shoulder. “Cigarette?”
“I say, aren’t you looking for a new singer for that club you are opening in the West End?”Max said suddenly.
“Yes, ” mused Dick. “He’s certainly got something. I wonder if he’d be interested?”
“Only one way to find out,” Max leaned back on his chair.He watched his friend walk over to the singing waiter and take him aside. The singer shook his head several times, and kept looking over at Maria who gazed at her husband with a confused look on her face.
Eventually, Dick came back to the table.
“Well?” said Max, as his friend sat down.
“I couldn’t persuade him, old man. “
“What? One would think he’d have jumped at the chance!” exclaimed Max. “To sing with a big dance band in London, make good money, instead of working in this little cafe. He can’t be making much here, waiting on tables, with a few songs here and there.”
“He won’t leave Maria,” replied Dick. “I told him she could come too, but he wasn’t having any of it, said that she would never leave Barcelona and her family. He’s a very romantic fellow. Devoted to her.”
“Oh well, you can’t compete with true love,” Max told him. “Never mind eh? I just hope he’s made the right choice. He would’ve been very successful I’m sure. He might even have got on the radio and recorded some gramophone records.”
“I expect so,” Dick said. ” But he’s not interested in money nor fame. To him love is the sweetest thing.”
“Sounds like a great title for a song,” Max laughed.
Pages of Radioland. 