Eric Loder – The Tatler – Wednesday 3rd February 1937
NIGHT TIME IN NEW YORK
Night time in New York means El Morocco as often as not, this famous restaurant having a popularity second to none just now. Fred Perry was to be seen there not so long ago, in company with Mr. and Mrs. Bertram Weal, whose guest he was for a few days at the Hotel Madison, New York. This was before he started his series of exhibition tennis battles with Ellsworth Vines, the results of which, at the time of writing, are all square after ten matches. Sonia Henje, ex-world skating champion and now a promising film actress, was at El Morocco with that very good-looking young man Tyrone Power. Another good-looker temporarily escaped from Hollywood was Lord Warwick. His dinner guest, Miss Marjorie Gage, is a rich young American air woman. Mr. and Mrs. Eric Loder and Lord Lovelace’s sister, Lady Phyllis Allen, are seen wearing El Morocco scarves, striped to match the decor and favoured by habitués. Mr. Loder’s kinsman, Lord Wakehurst, was lately appointed Governor of New South Wales. Mr. and Mrs. R. B. Foster paid a brief visit to New York last month and patronized all the smartest haunts. Before their fairly recent marriage she was Barbara Newberry, the dancer. Mr. “Bob” Foster is a particularly keen golfer; he plays most of his golf at Sunningdale.
The Tatler – Wednesday 3rd February 1937
Gabrielle Ray – The Orchid – The Tatler – Wednesday 11th November 1903
A Charming Dancer. – Miss Gabrielle Ray as Thisbe at the new Gaiety gives promise of qualifying to win a place in the long roll of famous dancers. She has been five years in musical comedy, having made a beginning as Mamie Clancy in The Belle of New York with a company toured by Mr. Ben Greet. Then followed two years in his Casino Girl company as Dolly Twinkle, the part originated it the Shaftesbury by Miss Marie George. Four years previous to her engagement by Mr. Ben Greet Miss Ray had appeared as a child actress in a drama called Proof at the Elephant and Castle, and several pantomime parts in the provinces followed. A year ago she went to the Gaiety to under study Miss Gertie Millar in The Toreador, and from there went to the Apollo, where she has played Miss Letty Lind’s and Miss Ella Snyder’s parts without suffering by comparison. Miss Ray is neither French nor American as is surmised but comes from Lancashire.
The Tatler – Wednesday 11th November 1903
Gabrielle Ray – The Tatler – 21st April 1915
A NEW PORTRAIT
Of an Old and Popular Favourite
MISS GABRIELLE RAY (MRS. ERIC LODER) AND FRIEND
All playgoers will be interested in this new portrait of Mrs. Loder, who as Miss Gabrielle Ray charmed us in so many of Mr. George Edwardes’s musical comedies at the Gaiety and Daly’s theatres. Miss Ray’s dancing was not of the highest technical brilliance, but she was certainly one of the most graceful movers ever seen on our stage, and, in the lighter and simpler forms of the dance, inimitable. Her reappearance would be a delight to her many admirers.
The Palladium – The Tatler – 14th April 1920
Gabrielle Ray.
Last week in the variety theatres the chief excitement came from the welcome return of an old favourite, Gabrielle Ray,
who is as pretty as ever, and sings and dances infinitely better than she used to,
scoring a great success in a new song and dance scena at the Palladium.
The Tatler – 14th April 1920
The Gaiety Theatre – The Tatler – Wednesday 5th August 1903
THE BEGINNING OF THE END
The fittings of the Gaiety were sold off last Wednesday prior to the (curiously named) “housebreaker” starting the art of demolition. That part of the building which used to house the restaurant has already been destroyed.
GAIETY STARS: HOW THEY USED TO TWINKLE
By One of Them, Miss Emily Soldene.
[Miss Emily Soldene has many reminiscences of the Gaiety. It is interesting to note that she has in a round about way kept up her connection with the famous house, for her niece, Miss Katie Vesey, has danced there a good deal. Miss Soldene now lives permanently in London, where she practises the gentle art of journalism on behalf of an Australian newspaper. A witty woman, she has written the most amusing autobiography a player has ever given us.]
“A prima donna in the pit,” said the Daily Mail on the Monday following the last night of the good old Gaiety. Quite right; I was the prima donna in the pit and had no end of a time with The Linkman. What memories of charming artists, of adorable and applauding audiences, of all the rush and fuss – the adulation, the devotion, the breathless wonder, the absolute personal exaltation that comes with the certainty of success. This revue brought people and things back so vividly, for I, too, had played my part in this theatre, and the recollection of those times filled my remembering eyes – with tears? Oh no! with a sort of dimness, a – well, you know. What bevies of beauty have beamed from the Gaiety stage. Selina Dolaro – dark, piquant, Spanish, languorous, “delightful Dolly.” I see her now, the princess in Fleur de Lys (the first work of Leo Delibes produced in England), wearing a closely-clinging robe of white silken damask with interwoven golden lilies of France, a train of cloudy diaphanous tulle, down one side of which fell a shower of water lilies.
Clara Vesey in Genevieve de Brabant – blue-eyed, long-lashed Clara Vesey, the rage of the town, the toast of the clubs, the perfectly-figured pet page to H.S.H. the Duke of Brabant, the ineffable grace, disdain, impertinence, and blasé exhaustion of her “Your highness, the dinner waits,” being worth all the money and Miss Annie Sinclair, our first Clairette in Madame Angot – how pretty, delicate, and demure she was.
Then Kate Vaughan, a vision of dainty beauty in some burlesque, I forget the name – Alice in Dick Whittington I fancy – wearing a short white satin dress trimmed with white lilac, a large muff of white lilac, an early Victorian bonnet of white lilac, and her bodice fitting like the paper on the wall.
These were the first days of the famous “corset” bodice, introduced by the ladies of the French company playing at that time L’ Etrangere at the Queen’s Theatre, Long Acre. The new bodice was of inestimable value to the willowy, graceful, and from head-to-heel uneventful beauties. Missing curves were introduced, angles were rounded, and everybody – at least every feminine body wondered “how it was done.” The corset was padded the lady walked in at the back – was laced up tightly, and there you are. Do you remember “Lardy” Wilson the magnificent, the beauteous Egertons, the delightful Love, the petite this, the saucy that, the pages in Chilperic, the maids of honour in Genevieve? Splendid, all picked girls, and making the best of their opportunities. (Of course, I am speaking from an artistic point.) How beautiful and busy they looked in the boudoir of the duchess sewing mysterious tiny garments for an expected addition to the ducal household. What airs and graces, what flouting of poor mere men – girls not so plentiful in those days, scarcely enough to go round, girls rather at a premium.
What eyes! Blue eyes, grey eyes, amethyst eyes, flashing eyes, soft brown eyes, bright hazel eyes, defiant eyes, appealing eyes, but all the lashes black – part of the contract, you know. I have heard people remark they thought the girls sometimes glanced at the johnnies in the stalls. I don’t believe it, do you?
Talking of johnnies in the stalls, we used to have visitors behind the scenes now and then. Patricians, peers, patrons, not to mention personages. Nothing frivolous. Oh no. Potent, grave, and reverend signors; that sort of thing you know. Among them came a most noble marquis – a charming person, and so thoughtful. One had only to shiver at night to receive an Indian shawl next morning. Then the gloves were always made to order. And the handkerchiefs, real Valenciennes, and the jeweller’s young man came down from Bond Street in a cab bringing big cases to “choose from.”
His lordship was a devotee of that poetical and perfect form of married life which decrees that one should not see too much of the other. He was broad-shouldered, broad-minded, and would murmur, “Shall not get in before the second act to-morrow. I dine with my lady; she is a great astronomer you know, and will only receive me one evening in the week.”
Not but what this sort of thing may be carried too far. I have heard of the head of a household being described by his butler (of the Admirable Crichton type) as “the gentleman who dines with us on Sundays.”
Then among our visitors was a society doctor – very handy at times. He always carried a flask of fine brown sherry in his breast pocket. Brown sherry was fashionable in those days – amontillado being my particular.
Funny things happened sometimes. At a Gaiety matinee during the Phelps season – I think the play was Richelieu; anyway it was at the time of the American Revivalists – in a front scene, one of the characters pointing off “o.p.” said, “He comes – he is moody.” “Where’s Sankey?” said a voice from the gallery – which broke the audience all up and spoilt the cardinal’s entrance. Somewhere about this time occurred the apotheosis of Sara – the high-kicker who used to dust the floor with her back hair. She did not dance during my engagements at the Gaiety, the theatre having too fine a sense of propriety to admit the interpolation of such a startling number as “Wiry Sal.” At the dress rehearsal of Madame Angot tempo 1873, a great strike among the gentle men of the chorus – it being decreed that the sartorial exigencies called for white wigs, and wearers of white wigs must of necessity be clean-shaven. Quite a riot in the theatre. The ladies of the chorus were furious “kicked” at such a sacrilegious idea and were prepared to go to any length in defence of these hirsute and admired adornments. One with tears in her eyes cried, “I’d rather throw up my engagement than my William should lose his moustaches.”
Autre temps, autre moeurs; moustaches are at a discount and legs have gone out of fashion. Positively the retrospective and redivivus ladies in tights presented by The Linkman gave me a shiver. How different are the massaged, manicured, frilled- furbelowed, voluminously-flounced chiffon- clad houris of the present to the simple sealskin brigade of the past. In those days of light and leading the less one had on the better, and polished nails were an accident.
Well, here’s to the “Gaiety girl of the present,” and though rather a “’orty” and petted young person long may she reign and have as good times as the “Gaiety girl of the past.”
EMILY SOLDENE.
The Tatler – Wednesday 5th August 1903
A “tip-up seat.” For me it was a throne,
Whereon I took my place as king, with zest,
For whom the stars would twinkle, and the jest
Was blown.
An easy throne– the nimble ten-and-six
Gave me, how many times, the right to reign
And take the ready gift of Joy from Payne
(Or Hicks).
Seats that have heard such cheers from roof to stall,
Gaunt relics of the merrymaker’s feast,
I wonder what your fate. Perchance some
East- end hall.
Soon will the rain and every wayward wind
Sweep o’er the boards where sunny scenes were set
For poor Kate Vaughan and Sylvia Grey, and Letty Lind.
A JINGLE BY J. M. B.
About
One of my main interests is a love of old pictures and postcards that give us a brief glimpse into a past and often forgotten age.
Collecting old postcard and pictures enables the viewer to glimpse a brief moment from that individual’s life; often far removed from their own either by the passage of time or social class. Social History, often described as “history from below” shows everyday people, their social structure and the interaction of different groups; like the wealthy and politicians these people helped shape and maintain society and so shape history.
Examining the images one can’t help but wonder how the individuals lived, were their lives hard compared with today and were they happy. Often the images come with little or no information that can answer these questions, one can only imagine.
With each image saved and seen by others, so that moment, that person is kept alive, our understanding is increased and so our lives are enriched.
A picture is often more descriptive than words can ever be, but how true is this, if a picture enables us to gain entry to another time, another world, will, like the view from a different window, even in the same house provide a different image?
These images allow a glimpse into another time, another era; but what preceded or followed this image? As the individuals were positioned and posed like an artist’s model is what we see truly reflective or like the slightly softened image of an aging beauty a less that truthful representation?
I am reminded of a documentary I watched several years ago regarding the returning troops from the front during the First World War. The camera images show a broken, demoralised sea of humanity, young men who having seen images that most of us hope never to witness had lost that sparkle; that zest which only youth has. But bring on the news camera and that battered returning group came to life, the smiles returned and even though muddied and bloodied their heads and bodies became erect, their arms swung in time and they demonstrated a swagger that spoke of courage, defiance and determination; an image that gave hope to the viewer.
It seems to me that even in the early days of photography all was not what it appeared and now in the advancing digital age a picture may paint a thousand words but will it be factual or fiction?
My interests And collections vary from Maids, Nuns, religious dress and the more risqué images of the French Maid. Often when searching for a particular subject the boundaries cross and as well as true Maids we find Edwardian actresses dressed as Nuns or Maids. During one of my searches I came across Gabrielle Ray dressed as a Maid, “Susan” in Lady Madcap and was instantly captivated by her.
Collecting the individual cards isn’t enough; I like to know more about the individual, which is easier when that person is an actress, although often the information is scarce
Searching for information about Miss Ray I discovered that she was one of the most photographed women of the Edwardian era and described in “Temps” as the most beautiful woman in the United Kingdom; but sadly her success, if measured by being visibly working or in the public eye was short-lived. She struggled with depression and alcohol abuse, and her health declined. In 1936, she suffered a complete mental breakdown and was institutionalized for nearly forty years; dying in 1973 at Holloway Sanatorium at the age of 90.
There are several other sites and blogs dedicated to the memory of Miss Ray and my intention is to share my small but growing collection of pictures and postcards with anyone who shares my interest. Reading about Miss Ray I was saddened that this lady, like many others before and since, after a brief moment in the sun they are soon forgotten. Hopefully as people view and enjoy this blog her memory will remain alive for a little longer.
I have started to write a short Biography about Miss Ray which I will try to update as frequently as possible. The Index page will show any updates under the Biography catagory.
I have also tried to link the various postcards and pictures to the plays in which Miss Ray appeared, however I realise, after several errors that this isn’t an easy task as many are decorative studio poses rather than production images. The individual Rotary, Philco and other publishers numbers are included with any description which should make searching for a particular card or ones from the same set easier. If I have made any glaring errors please feel free to let me know.
Thank you and I hope you enjoy my collection as much as I do.
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