by Paul R. Spitzzeri
On this day in 1950, Scottish comedian-singer Harry Lauder, once one of the most popular performers in the English-speaking world, died at age 79. The native of the Portobello area of Edinburgh, who worked in a flax mill from age 12 after his father’s death and then ten years in coal mining, while also singing locally. In 1900, he appeared in London and quickly rose to fame with his comedic songs and character studies, first in a kilt, though he modified his act later to make it somewhat less overtly Scottish.
Lauder traveled and performed extensively in Australia, South Africa and the United States, touring more than 20 times in the latter often on a special train, and commanded such high fees that, for a time, he was often accounted to be the highest-paid performer on the planet. Lauder was also a highly popular recording artist for the Victor label and that was how Los Angeles-area residents knew of his work until his first performance in the Angel City in January 1910.
This post looks at Lauder’s appearances in late February 1914 at Hamburger’s Majestic Theatre, situated on Broadway near 8th Street and which opened about a half-decade prior, in November 1908. The building and venue were owned by the Hamburger family, which ran a highly successful department store later bought out by David May and made part of his May Company chain, while the management was by Oliver Morosco.
The engagement, arranged with Lauder’s manager, William Morris (1873-1932), a native of Germany named Zelman Moses who worked independently despite persistent efforts by theatre circuits to corner the market on talent. Lauder was Morris’ biggest client and the two traveled together on this 1914 tour through America. In 1898, Morris founded the talent agency that bore his name and which existed until July 2009 when it merged with the Endeavor Talent Agency, the firm now being WME (William Morris Endeavor) Group.
In its 12 February issue, the Los Angeles Times informed readers that, “William Morris will bring Harry Lauder, the Scotch comedian, to the Majestic Theatre on Sunday night, February 22,” this being the sixth tour with the pair working together. After nine weeks on the Pacific Coast, the two were to head to Australia and it was added “this is Lauder’s first tour of the world.”
His support acts included a British actor, Mona Garrick, doing impersonations; a “Hungarian gypsy cimbalist” named Irene Bercseny; Alfred Latell, “the world’s greatest animal actor” and his piece “A Dog of Fantasy;” Erno Rapee, a “Hungarian court pianist” who later wrote music for films; a vaudeville act called the Oxford Trio doing “Basket Ball on Wheels;” and a contralto singer from England, Ethel Bourne.
Notably, though, the paper made references to the comedian-singer’s reported stinginess, observing on the 10th in its brevity column, “Pin Points,” that “Harry Lauder is coming again to Los Angeles, but he will wait until the summer tourist rate is on. Two days later, in his “Up and Down Broadway,” Garner Bradford remarked that,
Harry Lauder is coming to the Majestic. I could have guessed it from the pile of stories on my desk telling us how stingy he is. It’s a wonder Harry will stand for a press agent to this stuff, though, thank the Lord, he doesn’t try to do it himself.
In his column of the 18th, though, Bradford downplayed the idea that “Harry Lauder is quite a jokesmith” and warned his readers “don’t you believe it” because, he insisted, “Lauder hasn’t a spark in original humor in him,” though he allowed that the entertainer “is a great financier” because “he used to earn as much in five years as he gets now in a week.” Why “original humor,” which the critic left undefined, was so vital with the performer, despite his massive popularity, was not addressed.
The Los Angeles Tribune of the 19th reported that tickets for the one-week run of shows opened that morning, adding that “Lauder will present a new song repertoire, all of his selections typically Lauderesque,” meaning Scotch-themed and employing his standard sense of humor.” The paper continued that “at the same time they are numbers that have gained him greater popularity than he has enjoyed before.”
While there may have been a flood of fans flocking to the box office to snap up seats at the Majestic, a powerful series of rainstorms walloped greater Los Angeles and much of California, with much of this in January and another round just before Lauder was to arrive in town for his engagement. A prior post here examined some of the destruction wrought by the rain with floods washing out roads and bridges, destroying houses and causing some deaths—the effects were such that the county began a flood control program that has also been discussed here.
In talking about, and making light of, the floods, Bradford (who observed issues with water intrusion at the Mason, including showgirls who trod barefoot through the damp theater) remarked that “and speaking of this wet weather and the Sockless Club [of choristers], won’t it be a cinch for Harry Lauder and his kilties next week. Harry can splash about to his heart’s content.”
The following day, the Times columnist, under the heading of “Floods May Delay Shows” with it noted that current concerns were leading impresarios to wonder if their theatres would go dark as during the January storms, commented that,
The Harry Lauder engagement, which begins at the Majestic Monday [the 23rd], looks like a record breaker. They are to have matinees every day, and even the flood could not keep a permanent dent in the line at the box office.
On Sunday the 22nd, it was reported by Monroe Lathrop of the Tribune that “Harry Lauder, the incomparable, assures the Majestic of one of its banner weeks of the season” because “Los Angeles is one of the fortunate cities to secure the Scottish comedian” during his tour. The paper featured a photo of the star in his kilt stage costume as well as Morris, seated in an office chair and wearing a dark suit befitting his managerial status.
Elsewhere in the paper appeared an article attributed to Lauder and with the title of “Tight-fist Tales Sting Harry Lauder to Reply” with the performer noting that “I have had more than my fair share of ‘names’ thrown at me” during his career but insisted that “I take great pleasure in most of the vitriolic things said about me.”
He also asserted that no one in show business was the subject of “so many stupid stories,” including one where he allegedly offered a match to someone who didn’t have a use for it, so took it back, while another was that he gave a photo postcard of himself to a stage manager and then purportedly told him he sign it next time he was at the venue if he was treated well.
A third was that he offered a five shilling tip to a stage manager, who politely asked if there wasn’t a mistake, to which Lauder took back the money, while there was the one of the clean five-shilling bill in his wallet telling a dirty one that the spotlessness was because it was not removed for a decade.
Lauder sought to assure readers of the falsity of these tales, while allowing that he was not the most sociable person and was caught up in many business responsibilities incident to his career, while commenting “to tell you the honest truth, my life is a burden to me,” though one he sought to bear as well as he could, even if he was also identified as cheap because of the lodgings he took while on the road. To that, he replied, despite his use of a special train,
I am a modest, homely sort o’ chap who feels happiest and most comfortable in a cozy wee private room in the house of an old woman who knows my tastes and my wishes—in a room where I can smoke thick, black tobacco in a clay pipe and shove my feet, clad in gray worsted socks knitted by “granny” at Dunoon, on the “jams” of the fireplace.
The Times, also of the 22nd, reiterated the arrival of the performer for his performances starting the next day, adding that “there is every prospect that this tour will be far more successful than Mr. Lauder’s previous tours, inasmuch as there has never been so great and advance interest in the great comedian’s appearances as have marked his present tour.” Moreover, new tunes in his routine “have gained him greater popularity in England than he has ever enjoyed before.” With a strong company as support, the piece ended that, “the appearance of Harry Lauder is in all probability the most important theatrical event in the season.”
Yet, Bradford, in the same day’s edition, then informed readers that “owing to the floods and [bridge] washouts en route, it would be impossible for Harry Lauder to reach Los Angeles in time to open with the matinee on Monday according to schedule, and that the opening performance would be [the] Tuesday matinee instead.”
Of course, it wasn’t just Morosco at the Majestic who was concerned about the situation, as every theatre manager in the city was “on the anxious seat,” though it was added that “substitute talent in abundance has been lined up,” some of which was considered superior to what would have been on the original billing. The critic concluded that, “everybody is hoping for the best” and that “only the Lauder show has sent definite word of its inability to reach town.”
The Tribune of the following day observed that the box office take was $6,000 for that first show, but, on the 24th, it was reported that the comedian and his company would be able to arrive during that day and open the engagement in the evening. An advertisement, however, from the Majestic told patrons that the conditions were such that Lauder and the other performers were not able to make it to Los Angeles for that day’s afternoon or evening shows either. It advised that an eye be kept on the papers for updates as to when the shows would debut.
Bradford’s column of the 24th cited the Majestic’s business manager, Joseph Montrose, as stating that Morris’ manager, Lester Murray, sent a telegraph from Fresno to inform him that, while Lauder would not perform at that day’s matinee, he would be in Los Angeles for the evening show. Consequently, any ticketholders for that afternoon performance were advised to quickly exchange them to get the best seats possible at another show.
The issue of the Los Angeles Express on the 25th offered a “hoos a wi ye, Harry?” and a “hoot mon” as it reported that “Harry Lauder and his bagpipers from the bonnie heather hills of Scotland” arrived at 2 a.m. “after a long, slow, tiresome trip through the flooded district.” The party of some 25 persons “paraded through the streets at noon and called on Mayor [Henry H.] Rose at the city hall” and “gave a little bagpipe concert and were photographed by a movie man.”
A visit was also made to the newspapers, with Lauder quoted as saying that “when the newspapers stop taking about you, you have stopped making money” which is why he was in the United States.” He added, with the paper trying to transcribe his brogue,
And y’know, we stopped at Fresno when we found we couldna get to Los Angeles. We built a stage, put one ad in the paper, swiped some fixin’s and put on a show. ‘Twas a goodun and the place was packed t’ the doors. ‘N we made some money.
The showman revealed the title of a new song, which also became that of his show: “It’s Nice to Get Up in the Mornin’, But It’s Nicer to Lie in the Bed.” When Bradford of the Times of the same day briefly noted the early morning arrival of Lauder and his entourage, he remarked that there were a dozen other trains ahead of his special, leading the columnist to muse, “I wonder if Harry will be able to extract any humor from the situation.”
It turned out that the show did not open until the 25th, with the Express providing a brief review, which remarked,
After being marooned three days on the desert in his special train, Harry Lauder and his company opened at the Majestic yesterday to a capacity business, and during the rest of the week will give two performances daily. A large advance sale assures crowded houses.
Lauder brings many of his old characterizations and songs, and two new ones, chief of which is a burlesque of a Scotch kiltie soldier who is much swelled up over his importance in the king’s service . . .
The old favorites in Lauder’s repertoire composed the bulk of his work [the other new tune was “Ta, Ta, My Bonnie Darlin'”], and he was enthusiastically received on his opening.
A mediocre vaudeville entertainment precedes the great Scotchman’s individual program.
In its even more concise remarks about the opening, the Times commented that Lauder played to a sold-out Majestic and that he would only play six shows, though it was assumed that all would be packed. It also mentioned that he had “all of his old songs and many new ones that are still keeping the public laughing.”
The Tribune, however, published a longer feature with a photo of the star and his bagpipe band, with May Ridgway interviewing Lauder just before his opening performance. The journalist observed that “as to the man’s personality, it is rugged, real, solid, fundamentally strong” and revealed his “training of brawn and muscle, endurance and patience” which “will always keep him from losing his head with all the adulation which he has received.”
Ridgway summarized Lauder as “a singer of songs, a teller of jokes, an erstwhile music hall artist, yet his name is known over the globe; known wherever the phonograph holds sway,” while she concluded, “you just rather like him and you’re glad he does [deserve his accolades].” Addressing his critics, with a comparison to his aforementioned article worth recalling, the performer told Ridgway,
Thot these shoulderrs o’mine are broad and ma back is strong, an ma head is thick and oh’ll gladly be bearing ‘ony load the press wants to put on ’em. Ye see, it’s thus way; the people have to have somethin’ to talk aboot, don’ they! Wull, then, they jus select me to talk o’ because, they’ve got no originality to be thinkin’ o things themselves . . . I can stand anything in the world but to have ma name spelt wrong.
As for what his purpose was in performing, he professed a simple explanation, “ony artist can get his price if he can deliver the goods, and thot’s what I’m tryin’ to do.” When it came time for Lauder to put on his costume, Ridgway, “being a perfect lady,” departed, though she ruefully added that “this is one of the disadvantages of a woman in the working world” because male reporters walked right in to get their time with the star. She was struck that Lauder had such harm that Ridgway “went off without a really useful bit of knowledge” while being “perfectly satisfied.”
To meet the demand, Lauder added a third show, being a 10 p.m. one, on Saturday night, his last day in town and, on the 28th, which was Saturday, Henry Christeen Warnack of the Times wrote “An Impression of Harry Lauder” and he observed that,
Lauder really does take you to Scotland with his melodies and his jests. Afterward, one smells the heather and sees the blue bells. Possibly some of us will drink nothing but Scotch for months to come . . . Yes, and in our best minutes, we will hear Lauder’s laughing with the low joy of bubbling water.
Warnack added that “a personality like Lauder’s sweetens the world,” though he also was less than complimentary of the rest of the program, writing that “a girl who sings a bass solo and a young pianist with overworked hair do not make so much of a programme” as he ended with “it is rather a pity that such clever people as Lauder would not offer better support.”
Lauder was a superstar in the world of entertainment in the early 20th century and, despite the delays in his arrival and his truncated stay, he appears to have amused Angelenos as much as audiences anywhere he played and this program is an excellent artifact for his performances in a water-logged city 112 years ago.