Hi Ken, many thanks for your reply to my article.
As I am simply rewriting and, where possible, improving on the tales left by my Father, these having been transcribed by a mate of his from tape recordings, I am unfortunately unable to verify that all the content is 100% correct. Taking into consideration how long ago it was, and that at the time he was only nine years old, then the I must accept that there will be errors, but luckily there are experts such as yourself who are able to dot the i’s and cross the t’s for me. It still gives interested people a window, even thougha little dusty, looking into the world as it was then.
Having read the notes on this website regarding the Wurlitzer installed at the New Gallery Cinema, it does appear that my Father and Grandmother would probably have been entertained by that, as opposed to the usual piano, unless of course the Wurlitzer was experiencing some teething troubles. I have sadly no means to check what the management were offering in the way of backround accompaniment at that particular performance. Nevertheless the tales I am working on are quite intrigueing and as my Grandmother was an avid cinemagoer it makes it all the more interesting to read about other cinemas such as The Canterbury and Gatti’s in the Westminster Bridge Road which she visited very regularly whilst living in the Lambeth Walk during the 1920’s.
I shall indeed someday try to pay the New Gallery building a visit and listen to that same Wurlitzer that you describe and generally do a bit of ‘Ghost Hunting’ around Lambeth, though sadly, I shall not be able to ‘enjoy’ the thrill of being covered in sparks and ashes deposited by the passing trains through the skylight of the Canterbury on a hot evening and the fleas at Gatti’s you can keep anyway.
Dear members,
I am currently writing up the memoirs of my father, Frederick McBride, who grew up in Lambeth Walk, London, England. I have just come to the following recollection of his, when he once visited ‘The New Gallery Cinema’ in London’s Regent’s Street. This particular episode happened, as far as I can work it out, in 1929 when he was nine years old.
I sincerely hope that you enjoy this account.
…“We sat through a silent film which had the usual piano accompaniment. After a short interval, the curtains parted to reveal a projected picture of the writer, George Bernard Shaw, standing at the end of a path in his garden at Ayot St. Lauwrence in Hertfordshire, England. There was no piano now, no music: the cinema was so quiet that we could hear the whirring of the projector above us. He slowly walked forward. When his head a shoulders were filling the screen, he stopped, and clear as a bell, in his stenorian Irish Brogue, said, "Good evening, how do you do? I won’t keep you long, but there is something I should like to say to you…"
We were dumbfounded. We were witnessing a miracle. The whole thing lasted for no longer than five minutes. Exactly what he said I sadly cannot remember; but during thoose few moments, a new world had opened before us…Those mute images had been given a voice. It was not until some time later that we heard of a film entitled, ‘The Jazz Siger’, staring of course Al Jolson.”
Hi Ken, many thanks for your reply to my article.
As I am simply rewriting and, where possible, improving on the tales left by my Father, these having been transcribed by a mate of his from tape recordings, I am unfortunately unable to verify that all the content is 100% correct. Taking into consideration how long ago it was, and that at the time he was only nine years old, then the I must accept that there will be errors, but luckily there are experts such as yourself who are able to dot the i’s and cross the t’s for me. It still gives interested people a window, even thougha little dusty, looking into the world as it was then.
Having read the notes on this website regarding the Wurlitzer installed at the New Gallery Cinema, it does appear that my Father and Grandmother would probably have been entertained by that, as opposed to the usual piano, unless of course the Wurlitzer was experiencing some teething troubles. I have sadly no means to check what the management were offering in the way of backround accompaniment at that particular performance. Nevertheless the tales I am working on are quite intrigueing and as my Grandmother was an avid cinemagoer it makes it all the more interesting to read about other cinemas such as The Canterbury and Gatti’s in the Westminster Bridge Road which she visited very regularly whilst living in the Lambeth Walk during the 1920’s.
I shall indeed someday try to pay the New Gallery building a visit and listen to that same Wurlitzer that you describe and generally do a bit of ‘Ghost Hunting’ around Lambeth, though sadly, I shall not be able to ‘enjoy’ the thrill of being covered in sparks and ashes deposited by the passing trains through the skylight of the Canterbury on a hot evening and the fleas at Gatti’s you can keep anyway.
Dear members,
I am currently writing up the memoirs of my father, Frederick McBride, who grew up in Lambeth Walk, London, England. I have just come to the following recollection of his, when he once visited ‘The New Gallery Cinema’ in London’s Regent’s Street. This particular episode happened, as far as I can work it out, in 1929 when he was nine years old.
I sincerely hope that you enjoy this account.
…“We sat through a silent film which had the usual piano accompaniment. After a short interval, the curtains parted to reveal a projected picture of the writer, George Bernard Shaw, standing at the end of a path in his garden at Ayot St. Lauwrence in Hertfordshire, England. There was no piano now, no music: the cinema was so quiet that we could hear the whirring of the projector above us. He slowly walked forward. When his head a shoulders were filling the screen, he stopped, and clear as a bell, in his stenorian Irish Brogue, said, "Good evening, how do you do? I won’t keep you long, but there is something I should like to say to you…"
We were dumbfounded. We were witnessing a miracle. The whole thing lasted for no longer than five minutes. Exactly what he said I sadly cannot remember; but during thoose few moments, a new world had opened before us…Those mute images had been given a voice. It was not until some time later that we heard of a film entitled, ‘The Jazz Siger’, staring of course Al Jolson.”