by Peter Burdon
"This enterprise, set in motion by a small group of enthusiasts with their own money, has its base in Exmouth and plays a wide circuit of places in that region. They are pioneers of the Theatre, waiting for the covered wagons. It is a pleasure to record that so far their gallant little venture has succeeded." (J.B.Priestley, in his book Theatre Outlook, 1947.) We didn't wait for our covered wagons, for we had bought a pair of rather worn ex-Service ambulances (a bargain offer) late in 1945. One was fitted out with bench seats for the cast and the other was destined to carry the stage crew, scenery, lighting gear, props, etc. Once on the road and loaded they broke down regularly. Soon, every one of us knew how to jack up the wagon and change a wheel as well as any garage hand. Clogged carburetters were trickier, but somehow we always managed curtain-up on time.
So who thought up this crazy idea of three-weekly touring rep in the West Country theatrical desert? It was the brainchild of actors John and Joyce Worsley, her brother Hugh Rigg and his wife Rae. They had planned it years before Hitler stopped them in their tracks. The "staff work" required before we had a calendar of dates was daunting -- talks with local authorities and police, surveying what real theatres existed in the area, town halls, corn exchange buildings, cinemas, village halls. In fact, anywhere there was room to put up a set, had a fuse box and a get-attable loo. Imagination winces!
We opened with Priestley's They Came To a City on Easter Monday 1946 in an Exmouth cinema to a full house, ran for the full week (full house every night) , struck the set and began our travels -- at first to a limited circuit. In a few years' time we were playing to good houses in 30 towns all over Devon, Somerset, Dorset and Cornwall and had two companies. In those far off days most of our audiences had never seen a professional performance unless they travelled, quite expensively to one of the bigger towns such as Exeter, Bristol or Plymouth.
Originally, we rehearsed in the Worsley's house on Exmouth's famous Beacon Hill. Later we arranged the rental of a cricket pavilion where we could erect a stage and a working set with lighting.
In time, our circuit expanded to some 30 towns and villages within 40 miles of Exmouth. Only Barnstaple, Exeter, Paignton, Plymouth, Sidmouth and Taunton offered "real" theatres. The rest, scattered all over the West Country, was a mishmash of town halls, village halls and cinemas. We played 'em all.
A typical daily schedule went something like this: Rehearsal at 9.30: Lunch at 1; All aboard the van at 2; Curtain up somewhere at 7.30. Arrive back at base around midnight if the transport behaved itself. En route we might hear each others' lines, or play quiz games, or snooze (we often needed to catch up on lost sleep). Arrived at the venue everybody, male and female, helped offload the scenery and props, up the set, played the play, struck the set, loaded everything back into the van -- and collapsed until we got back to Exmouth. On occasion, then a 13-hour day at least. Monday to Saturday, but every third Sunday was Dress Rehearsal with all the usual frets, tempers and disasters. .
People often wondered how and when we learned our lines. It was three-weekly rep, after all and we considered ourselves fortunate compared with those in weekly rep (the norm in those days) where the hardest worked member of the company was "Prompt" -- we all had had a taste of it and were glad to have escaped.
Somebody at the Arts Council heard of us, was impressed and decided we should be helped to invest in a resplendent pantechnicon. At last, cast, stage crew and scenery could travel in comfort together.
The pace was too hot for some, of course, so we lost a few but gained a few. Among the latter was a young, already super-gifted Fulton McKay, later of "Porridge" fame, the brilliant Edgar Wreford and, much later,a charismatic little thing who swept the great Laurence Olivier off his feet (read his autobiography to verify) and so became Lady Olivier, but still appears on stage and screen as Joan Plowright.
The writer of this memoir was one of the pioneers and he stayed the course for four years. Assured by friends who had "made it" that the West Country was no place wherein to make one's name, he took the long road to London, had small parts in some forgettable and duly forgotten films, made a few broadcasts and faded from the scene. He became a journalist, a P.R. man, a magazine editor and retired as Communications Manager for Jaguar Cars before that great firm was swallowed by Ford. At 87 he is delighted to have the chance to make this record of quite the most exciting time of his life.
He left the West of England Theatre Company in 1950, so there must be somebody around who can take up this tale. It is worth the telling, for sure
But Finally....
But finally, back to that first night of all our first nights--when the curtain went up on Easter Monday 1946 in Exmouth. The cast of "They Came to a City" were: Peggy Batchelor (playing in her home town), Godfrey Bond, Peter Burdon, Elise Catlow, Mavis Edwards, Neil Gibson, Michael Kingsley and Joyce Worsley, who also produced the play. Patricia Bowling was Stage Manager and the decor was by Joan Pemble.
Only a few weeks earlier nearly all of us had been in uniform. We didn't talk much about "Art" or "Drama" in those days. Our fledgling careers had been on hold for five years; how wonderful it was to have this chance to start all over again. We were offering such talents as we had to entertain people who for those grim years had suffered dim lights, drab clothes, utility and austerity. For most, ordinary living had been suspended; they had waited, doggedly and monotonously for life to begin again. There had been so many partings but not quite so many reunions. The menu we offered was, in the beginning, light-hearted. It was not a trivial aim, we believed.
All too often, only the actors get what applause (occasionally boos!) is going. Few people bother to give any attention to the names of the stage crews which appear on the programme (incidentally, our early programmes sold for 3 old pence). But every actor knows, particularly in travelling rep, that he/she is utterly dependent on those sturdy souls. So, for the record: Our first Stage Manager, Pat Bowling left because of failing health. She was followed by Charles Jarrott (with the looks of a matinee idol --what a waste!). So young, yet he brought a wholly professional discipline into our back-stage chaos. Inevitably, he moved on and up. He became a much respected film director in due course. His successor was John Wyckham who later crossed the Atlantic and became a much sought-after lighting specialist for many big musicals. Just before this writer left the Company, Mark Lawton took over as Stage Director and he too was eventually lured by the lights of London and the TV studios.
What happened to the Company after I left in 1950? I did many things and acting was one of the things undone; I never kept in touch with any of those wonderful "pioneers" and I don't really know why.
My hope is that somebody who reads this too brief history will find the time to complete the tale.
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