I want to beg you, as much as I can, dear sir, to be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.
“Live the questions now.” Rainer Maria Rilke
Thank you for visiting this page. I’m Julia, and I work as a psychodynamic psychotherapist, relationship counsellor, and clinical supervisor. I’ve been in private practice in the City of London and in south-west London for the past three years; for the decade before that, I worked as a specialist psychotherapist for working age adults in the NHS (where I’ve also run staff groups).
This is where you will find the posts on my London-based blog, which I update constantly through the week, almost as a stream of consciousness. It reflects my interests, including psychotherapy, and my weekly experience outside – though not divorced from – my work. It’s a contemporary version of the commonplace book – one where the thoughts, responses, and comments of others are welcome.
The former Rochelle Street School, Arnold Circus, Boundary Estate, London E2
From Wikipedia:
“The 1870 Elementary Education Act made it compulsory for all children between the ages of five and twelve to be given a basic education at public expense. This was to be provided by Board Schools- and school boards were set up across the country to build and run these schools. It was estimated that 100,000 places would be required in London which was a gross underestimation and 500,000 had been provided by 1900. The architect who oversaw this was E.R.Robson, a student of George Gilbert Scott.The two school houses on the Rochelle campus, juniors and infants, were early examples of Robson’s work.”
Between 1870 and 1904, the LSB was the single largest educational provider in London and the infrastructure and policies it developed were an important influence on London schooling long after the body was abolished.” (Wikipedia)
In the School Board for London’s emblem a single angel of
enlightenment stands on the steps of a neo-classical structure. Her arms open,
she personally welcomes a girl and a boy who, bearing the weight of daily
chores, hold each other closely. Above them a book lies open on the page that reads the SBL’s motto “Lux Mihi Laus” (“Light is my Glory”). Behind them stands a young, working man, possibly the children’s father, their neighbour or even a future. He doffs his cap politely as he remains standing on the muddied ground of a chimney-stacked city, with a reliable hay-laden donkey by his side. The sky is brimming with stars. Designed before the Board had even determined the number of children it would be providing for, the emblem visualised the aims and ideals of the 1870 Elementary Education Act. Each figure was lined in symbolism, where the idealised role of the teacher was married in harmony with the urban, working, family. Three years after the seal was designed just under a hundred school buildings had been commissioned by the SBL. Their design and evolution were documented by the Board’s Architect, Edward Robert Robson in his 1873 publication, School Architecture: Being Practical Remarks on the Planning Designing, Furnishing of School Houses. Robson charted the European, English and American styles of architecture used in elementary and industrial schools and his subsequent designs for the School Board for London.” https://research.gold.ac.uk/id/eprint/15868/1/HIS_thesis_LeeI_2015.pdf
From the Historic England entry:
“GV II 1899. Yellow stock brick with red brick dressings. Stone cornice surmounted by panelled blocking course (part rebuilt). Two storeys. Nine windows. String course above ground floor central five bays. Brick pilasters, partly fluted, separate each of these bays which are set in shallow brick arches. Pilasters paired at ends. Side flanking two bays have scrolled brick aprons under 1st floor windows All ground floor windows round arched with stone keystones.
Facade to Montclare Street (below) has corner turret of four storeys with slate roof.
GV II 1899. Small house with half sexagonal facade on western side, eastern side attached to school. Yellow stocks with red brick dressings and slate roof. Large panelled chimney with cornice and string course. Two storeys. Centre facade bears stucco name and date panel framed in brick. Two side windows, uppers sashes, lowers modern glazing. Door in round arched recess.”
From Wikipedia:
“The impresarios and brothers Lew Grade and Bernard Delfont (born Winogradsky) moved to the Boundary Estate in 1914, from nearby Brick Lane and attended Rochelle Street School. At that time, 90% of children attending the school spoke Yiddish.”
From: A History of the County of Middlesex: Volume 11, Stepney, Bethnal Green. Originally published by Victoria County History (1998):
“Rochelle Street. Opened 1879 as Shoreditch Nichol St. bd. in new bldg. for 312 B, 312 G, 363 I to replace Nichol St. ragged. Rebuilt as tall, red-brick and stone bldg. under Boundary St. scheme 1898, when renamed after new Rochelle St. Accn. 1908: 270 B, 270 G, 363 I; a.a. 241 B, 250 G, 284 I. Accn. for I reduced to 294 in 1909. Reorg. 1929 for 228 JB, 200 JG, 190 I. ‘Almost entirely Jewish’ 1930. Alumni inc. Louis and Bernard Grade and Chas. Clore. I dept. closed 1933. Closed during Second World War and later reopened as special sch. (below).
Rochelle Primary, Arnold Circus. L.C.C. in 1947 planned sch. for deaf in new and enlarged bldg. on site of former bd. sch. Instead prim. sch. for educationally subnormal opened by 1951 and closed 1976.”
Virginia Primary School, Virginia Road, London E2
Image: “Virginia Primary School, Arnold Circus: London School Board design of 1875 with later alterations. A classic three-decker designed by E.H.Robson.” (Wikipedia)
From: A History of the County of Middlesex: Volume 11, Stepney, Bethnal Green. Originally published by Victoria County History (1998):
“Virginia Primary, Virginia Rd. Opened 1875 as New Castle St. bd. for 156 B, 161 G, 270 I. Enlarged and reorg. 1887 for 210 B, 260 G in old bldg. and 360 JM, 469 I in new bldg. a.a. 1887: 541. Renamed Virginia Rd. 1899 as part of Boundary St. rebuilding scheme. By 1901 many Jewish children. a.a. 1908: 204 B, 225 G, 299 JM, 373 I. JM dept. closed 1913. Reorg. 1932 for 464 SM, 323 I; a.a. 274 SM, 189 I; ‘almost entirely Jewish’. Roll 1944: 330 M & I. After war reorg. as primary sch. Special English teaching needed; turnover of 15 supply teachers in 3 months 1968. Roll 1988: 228 JM & I.”
From the Historic England entry:
“GV II 1899. Yellow stock brick with red brick dressings. Slate roof. Three storeys. Centre portion of ten paired sashes with additional top lights. Flanking wings under coped gables, each with two pairs of windows. String courses at sill heights, paired windows separated by red brick buttresses with stone caps. Rear facade to Virginia Street gabled with off centre tower under hipped roof with finial.”
“He was comfortable in his skin and interested in you.”
https://karmasfootsteps.co.uk/2016/08/happy-enough-skin/
Image: “Safety Last! is a 1923 American silent romantic-comedy film starring Harold Lloyd. It includes one of the most famous images from the silent-film era: Lloyd clutching the hands of a large clock as he dangles from the outside of a skyscraper above moving traffic. The film was highly successful and critically hailed, and it cemented Lloyd’s status as a major figure in early motion pictures. It is still popular at revivals, and it is viewed today as one of the great film comedies.” (Wikipedia)
[from an obituary for Gloria Lloyd, eldest child of Harold and Mildred Lloyd, in The Independent: “In 1950, Gloria’s wedding took place by the fountain on the great lawn at Greenacres. The marriage didn’t last, and with Gloria spending longer and longer times abroad, *her daughter Suzanne was brought up by Harold and Mildred. Suzanne grew up to oversee the Harold Lloyd Trust and Harold Lloyd Entertainment.”]
From: Cary Grant – a Brilliant Disguise (2020), by Scott Eyman:
“(*Sue Lloyd): “I was seventeen or eighteen, and we were staying at the Inn at the Park. We went to dinner with Cary at the White Elephant. Harold and Cary were very interesting together.
You would never have known they were comedians. Serious. No joking around. They looked like businessmen, and they acted like businessmen. Suits and glasses.
And yes, Cary was charming. He asked about what I did with Dad…Cary had a kind of a warmth when he talked to you. He really looked at you. He wasn’t grand at all. He was comfortable in his skin and interested in you. In thinking about it, he was a lot like Harold.”…
…If critics occasionally wondered about Grant’s steadfast commitment to playing one thing, people within the industry didn’t, even people of a different generation who might have been expected to scoff. “When you look at [Sean Connery’s] Bond characterization, everybody says, ‘Oh, well, he’s just charming, » observed Sidney Lumet. “Well, shit, that’s like saying Cary Grant was just charming. There is more acting skill in playing that kind of character. What he’s doing stylistically, is playing high comedy. And that is extremely difficult to do, which is why there are so few of those actors, so few Cary Grants and Sean Connerys.”…
…Part of the problem with (That Touch Of Mink, 1962) was Grant’s antipathy for Martin Melcher, Doris Day’s grubby husband, who used his leverage to get undeserved credits as a producer on her films…
Day found Grant uninterested in any kind of connection, which bothered her–she was a straight-shooter from Ohio and liked a happy set. It was obvious that Grant and (Delbert) Mann were not communicating, so Day ramped up her efforts to be helpful and cooperative – a nervous daughter trying to keep peace between two father figures who couldn’t find any common ground…
In 1994, Marty was deemed “culturally, historically or aesthetically significant” and selected for preservation in the Library of Congress’ National Film Registry.” (Wikipedia)
“Cary in one scene did not like the huge brass doorknobs on the door to his office,” said Mann. “And he stopped production while the art director was brought onto the stage to change the door knobs…finally a painter came on the set and painted them white. I liked Cary a lot, always amiable and charming and smiling, and I often said to myself, “What is he really thinking? What is he really like underneath all of this phony charm?” And I never found out; I never felt that I reached a quarter inch into his real personality, ever.”
…(Grant) gave (George) Kennedy a signature admonition: “You must always remember that you are a property, and you must treat that property with respect.” Kennedy found it to be the single best piece of advice he ever got about show business. “You must sell yourself like somebody would sell real estate or automobiles. If you treat the property with respect, everybody else falls in line.”…
…In 1964, a crew from Gentleman’s Quarterly arrived to do a fashion spread on Grant in Palm Springs…He was wearing Levi’s, had a deep tan, and looked stunning. He was sixty years old and incredibly charming. Everett Mattlin, the editor who was interviewing him, realized that if Grant wasn’t being absolutely sincere, he was nevertheless playing a role that had become second nature to him.”
75 and 251 Mitcham Road, Tooting, London SW17
Above: https://www.londonremembers.com/memorials/parish-pump-tooting
In background: “CHURCH LANE SW17 1. 5033 Church of St Nicholas TQ 2771 7/12 14.6.55 II 2. Rebuilt 1831-33. T W Atkinson, architect. Apsidal chancel added 1873-75. Gothic-style in grey brick, with some stone dressings. Chancel and transept additions in amber brick, with flush red brick bands. West tower with pinnacles. Queen-post roof. West gallery with organ. Old monuments and fittings from former church. (RCHM).” (Historic England)
From Wikipedia:
“Tooting Library, based in Mitcham Road, was a gift to the people by former Mayor of Wandsworth, Sir William Lancaster and was officially opened to the public in November 1902 during the first year of reign of Edward VII. The building started life as a single storey construction consisting of a large reading room and a small lending library. In 1906 a second storey was constructed.”
https://www.londonremembers.com/subjects/sir-william-j-lancaster
From Wikipedia:
“Gilbert Mackenzie Trench (1885–1979) was a Scottish architect, and the surveyor to the Metropolitan Police between 1920 and 1945. He is credited as the designer of the iconic Police Telephone Box, which has since become a pop culture icon owing to its immortalisation as the space-time machine of Doctor Who.
Other buildings he is known to have designed include the police station and associated accommodation in Tooting in south London.”
“The city’s motto: “Let Glasgow prosper”…
…with these words Mungo ended each of his sermons.” (Beloved Planet)
Above: detail of the original entry loggia at the southwestern corner of the Midland Grand Hotel’s front facade, adjoining St Pancras Station, London.
From the Undiscovered Scotland website:
“…Mungo later returned to the River Clyde, where his church became the focus of a large community that became known as Clas-gu or “dear family”. From these beginnings emerged the modern city of Glasgow.
It was at Clas-gu that Mungo was visited by Saint Columba, who at the time was working as a missionary in central Scotland. It was here, too, that Mungo died, apparently in his bath (or while giving a baptismal service: interpretations differ), on Sunday 13 January 614. He was buried close by his church, and today his tomb lies in the centre of the Lower Choir of Glasgow Cathedral, probably on the actual site of his grave.
In order to make someone a Saint, it was necessary to prove that the candidate had performed miracles during their lifetime. St Mungo was said to have performed four, referred to in a poem:
Here is the bird that never flew
Here is the tree that never grew
Here is the bell that never rang
Here is the fish that never swam
In the first, he is said to have restored life to the pet robin of St Serf, which had been killed by some of his fellow classmates in Culross, hoping to blame him for its death. In the second he used branches of a tree to restart a fire at St Serf’s monastery that had gone out because Mungo had fallen asleep while he was meant to be watching it. The third relates to a miraculous bell he brought back with him from Rome. And the fourth involved the story of Queen Languoreth of Strathclyde being accused of infidelity by her husband, King Riderich, who alleged she had given her wedding ring to her lover when, in reality, the king had himself thrown it into the river. Facing execution, the Queen appealed to St Mungo, who ordered a servant to catch a fish from the river. When the fish was cut open, the ring was found inside, demonstrating the Queen’s innocence.
Today the bird, tree, bell and fish form the four elements of the crest of Glasgow City Council.”
“Virtue may be defined as a habit of mind (animi) in harmony with reason and the order of nature. It has four parts: wisdom (prudentiam), justice, courage, temperance.”*
*—De Inventione, II, LIII: handbook for orators by Roman philosopher and statesman Cicero (106–43 BC).
From Wikipedia:
“Serjeant’s Inn (formerly Serjeants’ Inn) was the legal inn of the Serjeants-at-Law in London. Originally there were two separate societies of Serjeants-at-law: the Fleet Street inn dated from 1443 and the Chancery Lane inn dated from 1416. In 1730, the Fleet Street lease was not renewed and the two societies merged. The society’s relevance diminished as Serjeants-at-Law were gradually superseded by Queen’s Counsel in the nineteenth century. The building in Chancery Lane was sold in 1877 and the assets were distributed amongst the surviving members, although the society was not formally dissolved. The last member, Lord Lindley, died in 1921. (A. M. Sullivan, who died in 1959, was appointed to the equivalent Irish office in 1912, when the English society had effectively dissolved.) The Fleet Street building was destroyed in the 1941 bombing raids during World War II.”
https://www.londonpicturearchive.org.uk/view-item?i=51485&WINID=1685370334316
From: Ward-Jackson, Philip: Public Sculpture of the City of London:
“Prudence, Justice and Liberality by A. Stanley Young. Location: Norwich Union Insurance, 49-50 Fleet Street, on the south side of the street. Stone, approx. 2.1m high x 3m wide. Signed in large letters on the right hand side of the statue’s self-base: “A.STANLEY YOUNG.R.B.S. 1913”
https://sculpture.gla.ac.uk/view/person.php?id=msib2_1220007125
From the website of the National Portrait Gallery:
“Henry Young & Co 1871-1899, H. Young & Co Ltd from 1900. At Eccleston Iron Works, Pimlico, London by 1873-1902, and Hayle Foundry Wharf, Nine Elms 1877-1902 or later. Iron founders, bronze statue founders.
Richard Henry Young (1842-1929), known as Henry Young (father of A. Stanley Young), was born in Skipton in Yorkshire. He married Fanny Brass in Chelsea in 1868 when described as a founder, with his father, Richard, also listed as a founder.
[“Headstone and ledger slab to Brass family, c.1899, with relief sculpture by A Stanley Young, is located within the Grade I-registered Brompton Cemetery.” Historic England]
Young established his company in 1871. He has been described as England’s first major art-bronze founder of modern times, whose foundry was a social centre for the London art world in the 1870s, so much so that many sculptors, including Alfred Stevens were his personal friends (Beattie 1983 p.259 n.7). Young’s business was picked out in an article on bronze statuettes in 1875, ‘At last, however, the firm of Messrs. Young and Co. – now in possession of the Ecclestone Ironworks, Pimlico, determined to make a more fruitful effort… [they] there were finally able to group together experienced French bronze-moulders and chasers’ (‘Art Industries: Bronze Statuettes’, Building News, vol.28, 1875, pp.710-2; see also Beattie 1983 p.183).
Here, the business’s work in bronze statue founding is followed until the closure of the Eccleston Iron Works in 1902. Before Young set up independently, he headed the moulding department at Holbrook’s foundry in Chelsea, though only 28 at the time, according to Hugh Stannus, Alfred Stevens’s assistant, on whom this account relies (see Sources below). Stevens admired Young for ‘the intelligence and enthusiasm with which he entered into the work’ and, through the intermediary of an industrialist friend, Leonard Collmann, contracted with Young to produce the bronze work for the much delayed and disputed Wellington Monument (St Paul’s Cathedral). With this encouragement, Young set up his own foundry at the Eccleston Iron Works, only to find that the ‘superior moulders accustomed to bronze work’ that he had engaged were left idle when Stevens failed to meet his promises as to the delivery of the models, leaving him with a loss of more than £1500 that ‘nearly broke him down’.
Young can be found in censuses. In 1851 in Manchester in the household of his father, Richard, a moulder from Scotland. In 1861 in Chelsea as an iron moulder, age 19, in the same household as his father, Richard, foreman iron moulder; this was next door to the Manor Iron Works where Thomas Holbrook, iron founder was listed. For Holbrook & Co, see Robert Masefield & Co in this resource. In 1871 at 89 Manor St, Chelsea (Holbrook’s Manor Iron Works were close by), as a founder, age 28, living in his wife, Fanny’s family home (she was the daughter of a master builder). In 1881 at 27 Trafalgar Square, Chelsea, as an engineer and founderman, employing 146 men and three boys, a substantial business, living with his wife Fanny and six children. In 1891 at 30 Trafalgar Square, an engineer and founder, with his wife and nine children, the eldest, Henry, age 21, a student engineer. In 1901 and 1911 at Bexhill as an engineer and founder with his wife and various children. In 1921 as Richard Henry Young, age 79, an engineer and founder at Henry Young & Co, with his wife and two adult children.
The business of Henry Young & Co first appears in London directories in 1873, trading as ‘bronze statue, art & general iron founders, pattern makers, smiths’ & builders’ machinists’, with bridge building added to their activities by 1879. In their full-page advertisement as statue founders in 1873, and subsequently (Post Office London directory, 1873, p.115), the business advertised ‘Sculptors’ and others’ works of art faithfully reproduced in bronze or other metals at one cast (without cutting models if preferred, up to Twenty Tons)’. A view of the interior of the foundry, showing one of the bronze sphinxes for Cleopatra’s Needle being cast, was published in 1881, including a description of the casting process (Illustrated London News, vol.78, 16 April 1881, pp.373-4). See Bronze sculpture founders: a short history on this website.
In the Post Office London directory in 1905, ‘iron and steel girder and joist makers’ became the leading part of the business’s trade description, replacing bronze, statue and iron founders, suggesting a change in direction. The 20th-century history of the successor business, H. Young Structures Ltd, Wymondham, Norfolk, in construction work is described on the company’s website, accessed 2 July 2022.
Works in bronze (# information kindly supplied by Duncan James). In 1873, the business claimed to have executed works of art during the previous year for Matthew Noble, Alfred Stevens, Joseph Edgar Boehm, Charles Bacon, [Edward Bowring?] Stephens and Theodore Phyffers. It advertised as bronze founders for Alfred Stevens’ Wellington Monument in St Paul’s Cathedral and illustrated two lamp standards, one for the Chelsea Embankment and the other for the Albert and Victoria Embankments (Post Office London directory, 1873, p.115; see also The Builder, vol.33, 31 July 1875, p.688, for the Wellington Monument). The casting for Stevens’ Wellington Monument was still in process in 1875 (Building News, vol.28, 1875, pp.710-20).
Sir Joseph Edgar Boehm described Messrs Young & Co as his foundry in a letter to James McNeill Whistler in 1878 (see Sourcesbelow), and indeed Young cast various of Boehm’s works (see Mark Stocker in Sources below). These included the statuettes, Herdsman with Bull, exh.1869, presumably a later cast, marked: H YOUNG & CO/ FOUNDERS/ PIMLICO (Victoria and Albert Museum, see Bilbey 2002 p.198; another at Althorp), Cart Stallion with Groom, 1869, presumably a later cast (Guildhall Art Gallery) and Thomas Carlyle seated, 1875 (Sotheby’s 12 May 1995 lot 130); the bust, 5th Marquess of Waterford, 1873 (Private coll.); the statues, Lion and Lioness, 1872 (Holkham Hall, see Public Sculpture of Norfolk and Suffolk, p.110), John Bunyan, 1873/4, with foundry mark (#Bedford, St Peter’s Green, see Illustrated London News, 13 June 1874, p.569), Horse Tamer, c.1874, with foundry mark (#Solihull, Solihull Park), the equestrian King Tom, 1874 (Edinburgh, Dalmeny House, see Public Sculpture of Edinburgh, vol.1, p.116), the fountain statue, Charity, 1874, marked: YOUNG & CO/ FOUNDERS/ PIMLICO (Norwich, Norfolk and Norwich Hospital, see Public Sculpture of Norfolk and Suffolk, p.48), the statue, Field Marshal Sir John Fox Burgoyne, 1875-7, marked: H. YOUNG & CO./ ART FOUNDERS/ PIMLICO (Waterloo Place, see Public Sculpture of Historic Westminster, vol.1, p.398), the equestrian Albert, Prince of Wales, 1876-8 (Bombay, Bhau Daji Museum Gardens; see also The Builder, vol.35, 4 August 1877, p.787) and the equestrian Field Marshal Lord Napier, c.1881/2? (#Calcutta, St George’s Gate, see The Artist, vol.1, October 1880, p.303). Subsequently, Boehm turned to the Thames Ditton foundry (qv) to cast his work.
The sculptor, Charles Bacon, was sued by Young & Co for the remaining cost of work carried out, 1871-7, including for an equestrian statue, Prince Albert, erected 1874 (Holborn Circus, see Public Sculpture of the City of London, p.198) and the statue, John Candlish, 1875, marked: H. YOUNG & CO/ ART FOUNDERS/ PIMLICO (Sunderland, Mowbray Park, see The Times 6 August 1883; Public Sculpture of North-East England, p.181).
Other examples of the foundry’s work from the 1870s include E.B. Stephens’s Deer Stalker, 1876 (#Exeter, originally Bedford Circus, see Illustrated London News, 18 March 1876, p.286) and Matthew Noble’s 14th Earl Derby, 1874, marked: H. YOUNG & CO./ ART FOUNDER./ PIMLICO. (#Parliament Square, see Illustrated London News, 18 July 1874, p.60; for the reliefs see Cox & Sons).
From the 1880s and subsequently, C.H. Mabey’s three Temple Bar Memorial reliefs, 1882, one marked: H. YOUNG & CO/ ART FOUNDERS/ PIMLICO (Fleet St, see Public Sculpture of the City of London, p.115; Freeman’s Journal 2 September 1882) and his two sphinxes for Cleopatra’s Needle, 1880-1, marked: H. YOUNG & CO./ ART FOUNDERS/ LONDON. (Victoria Embankment, see Post Office London Directory, 1881, advert p.125, and Public Sculpture of Historic Westminster, vol.1, p.320), Onslow Ford’s Rowland Hill, 1881-2, marked: H. YOUNG & CO/ FOUNDERS/ PIMLICO (King Edward St, see Public Sculpture of the City of London, p.219), W.G. Stevenson’s William Wallace, 1886/7 (#Aberdeen, Duthie Park, see The Artist, vol.7, January 1886, p.27, and Illustrated London News, 7 July 1888, p.25) and Albert Bruce Joy’s statue, Alexander Balfour, 1889, marked: H. YOUNG & CO./ ART FOUNDERS./ LONDON (Liverpool, St John’s Gardens, see Public Sculpture of Liverpool, p.170).
Also from the 1880s and early 1890s works by Mario Raggi, including Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of Beaconsfield, 1882, marked: H YOUNG & CO/ ART FOUNDERS/ PIMLICO (Parliament Square, see John Bull 21 April 1883), the bust, Archibald Tait, 1884 (Edinburgh, Bristo Square, see Public Sculpture of Edinburgh, vol.1, p.38), Sir H. Hussey Vivian, 1886, with foundry mark (#Swansea) and Queen Victoria, 1892, with foundry mark (# Hong Kong, see Illustrated London News, 28 January 1893, p.118).
From the 1890s and 1900s, T. Harvard Thomas’s statue, W.E. Forster, 1890 (Bradford, see Lancaster Gazette 5 April 1890), George Simonds’s Maiwand Lion, 1886, cast in iron (Reading, Forbury Gardens, Maiwand Memorial) and Frederick James Tollemache, 1891, statue marked: H. YOUNG & CO./ ART FOUNDERS/ PIMLICO (#Grantham, St Peter’s Hill), unknown sculptor’s equestrian Gen. Dhir Shumshir Jung Rana Bahadur, c.1893 (#Nepal, see Illustrated London News, 28 January 1893, p.118) and Princess Louise’s Boer War Colonial Troops Memorial, 1904, marked: H. YOUNG & Co LTD/ FOUNDERS LONDON S.W. (St Paul’s Cathedral).”
“I am Cary Grant, and it’s too late to do anything about it.”
From: Cary Grant – a Brilliant Disguise (2020), by Scott Eyman:
“Grant was at the Plaza Hotel planning some appearances for the movie. The phone rang and Grant picked it up.
“May I ask what you wish to speak to Mr. Grant about?” he said.
Pause.
“This is Cary Grant, my dear lady.”
Pause.
“I can’t help it, but I am Cary Grant, and it’s too late to do anything about it.”
Pause.
Grant hung up the phone and turned to the photographer Murray Garrett.
The woman had refused to believe that she was speaking to Cary Grant, because, she said, “Everybody knows that Cary Grant wouldn’t answer his own phone. And you can tell him for me that I’ll never see another one of his films!”
It was the principal conundrum of Grant’s public image, which he had carefully constructed so that he was viewed as a rarefied creature exempt from the duties and penalties that afflicted the rest of humanity. People didn’t quite believe in him or his problems even when confronted with incontrovertible evidence that he and they did indeed exist.
Grant and Garrett were barely out of the Plaza on the way to their first appointment when they were surrounded by mostly female fans. Grant said, “Remind me not to walk with you . .. again. You attract too many women.”…
…Peter Bogdanovich witnessed an amusing scene in 1973, when he and Grant both attended the American Film Institute’s Life Achievement Award for John Ford. Grant had forgotten his ticket and asked the lady at the reception for some help. “Name?” she asked, looking down at her list. “Cary Grant,” he said. She looked up and wasn’t sure about what she saw. “You don’t look like Cary Grant.”
“I know,” he said with a smile. “Nobody does.”…
…Walt Odets would become a psychologist specializing in the gay experience – he knew he was gay by the time he was twelve or thirteen–and he would retroactively contemplate the psyche of his friend.
[retroactive (adj.)
of powers, enactments, etc., “operating with respect to past circumstances, extending to matters which have occurred, holding good for preceding cases,” from French rétroactif (16c.) “casting or relating back,” from Latin retroact-, past-participle stem of retroagere “drive or turn back,” from retro “back” (see retro-) + agere “to drive, set in motion” (from PIE root *ag- “to drive, draw out or forth, move”). Related: Retroactively; retroactivity.
also from 16c. (Online Etymology Dictionary)]
“When Cary was young, he wasn’t handsome, he was pretty. That makes a lot of people think you’re gay even when it’s not true. He seemed more feminine to me than my father (Clifford Odets) did, because Cary dressed the way gay men dress – he paid attention, and straight men usually don’t. But he was trying to be Cary Grant. I never had a sense of his sexual identity; it honestly never occurred to me.
Speaking as a psychologist, in retrospect I think Cary was one of those people who felt perpetually unlovable. It came out in his pursuit of other people- the craving he had for my love as a kid.
Attachment was so important to him. He had a kind of longing about him. Things like explaining about the shoes seemed very important to him, and I think it was because it was a way of making a connection.
When you’re famous on that level, when you’re Cary Grant or Marilyn Monroe, you can’t make connections. People see Cary Grant and Marilyn Monroe, but that’s not who you are, not really. Why did he feel unlovable? I think he carried a lot of shame. The way he would dress, and the Rolls-Royce, and being Cary Grant were all a way of addressing the shame he felt. Shame about his background, perhaps shame about things he’d done early in his life.
It always felt to me that he was looking for himself. That’s where all the wives came in. It’s very difficult for a person to sustain a relationship when they feel unlovable. There’s nothing another person can do to make you feel lovable. Cary would be more and more demanding because he was either determined to get love, or, failing that, determined to get confirmation that he was unlovable. And then he would simply withdraw, to hide his unlovability from being seen. I just don’t think he ever found himself.
Becoming famous when you’re young obstructs self-discovery.
The same thing happened to my father. Cary was an actor, not being himself, and then he invented Cary Grant and everything was completely obstructed by that. When we were out together in Beverly Hills, people usually didn’t approach him, or interfere. He was an object of awe.
Being famous, visibly famous, is a terrible fate.”
The Garrick Theatre, 2 Charing Cross Road, London WC2
From the Historic England entry:
“Theatre. 1889 by C J Phipps. Painted stucco front. Concealed roof. Eclectic classicism. 2 tall storeys and sheer attic. 5 bays wide. Ground floor rusticated and arcaded with foyer doorways. Corinthian colonnade to balustraded 1st floor loggia with arcaded windows behind.
Enriched frieze to main entablature and balustraded attic with oculi fenestration. The front is continued to right by screen wall to body of theatre set on a Portland stone podium. The first part is of Bath stone with a stucco entablature over the 3 pilastered central bays; the 2nd part also faced in Bath stone with arcaded 1st floor. Interior retains most of original features with foyer and staircase serving fine auditorium with dress circle, upper circle and gallery with good neo- Rococo plaster work to balcony front, boxes and central dome of ceiling.”
From: an entry by John Earl in The Theatres Trust Guide to British Theatres, 1750-1950 – a Gazetteer (2000)*:
*updated version of Curtains!!! (1982).
“It now seems clear (Hugh Maguire: Theatre Notebook 1988) that the design of the theatre is essentially Emden’s. The contribution made by Phipps, who was still under a cloud as a result of the Exeter fire, was a matter of argument at the time and the relationship between the two architects seems to have been an uneasy one. The long facade occupies a key position at the curved southern end of Charing Cross Road, where it widens into an approximately triangular space enclosed on the south side by the classical stone flank elevation of the National Portrait Gallery. The corresponding eastern enclosure is formed by the Portland and Bath stone theatre facade. This is divided into three related but independent elements. On the left, the main entrance is classical with colonnaded loggia at first floor level. On the right, two less elaborately articulated compositions relieve the long flank of the auditorium. The entrance canopy was altered in post-war years, but reinstated to its original design in 1997.
Excellent three-balconied auditorium in an Italianate manner. The U-shaped balcony fronts are stacked one vertically above the other, differentiated only by their plaster relief ornaments.
Like its neighbour the Duke of York’s, which it almost touches at the rear boundary, there is no proscenium frame as such, the stage opening being defined by flat box fronts whose flanking coupled columns and pilasters carry arched supports to the proscenium wall and twin caryatids at the gallery abutment.
The present decoration scheme of pale veined marble, cream and gold with scarlet carpet and seats was undertaken as part of restoration works in 2015, which also included installation of a new stage lift, widening the stage door, and reorganisation of the stalls bar.
The gallery has been disused for some time and still has the character of a late Victorian top tier, but the sight lines from the centre are good and plans have been discussed for bringing it back into use. The Northern line, which passes under the auditorium, can occasionally be heard in the theatre. As is commonly the case in West End Theatres of pre-1914 date, the front of house accommodation is tightly constrained.”
From the website of the Garrick Theatre:
“Designed by a pair of architects, Walter Emden and C. J. Phipps, the Garrick opened on 24th April 1889 and is a Grade II listed building. The theatre is named after the esteemed Shakespearean actor David Garrick, a legend of the London stage.
The main theatre designer was Walter Emden, but C. J. Phipps was brought in to help with the structural difficulties of building on a site that was also the home of an underground river. The theatre originally had a fourth level above the upper circle, but this has since been removed. In 1986, stage designer Carl Toms was shipped in to restore the beautiful gold leaf in the auditorium. Then in 1997, the building’s façade was given a make-over.
The first person to manage the venue was playwright W.S Gilbert, half of the famous operetta-writing duo Gilbert and Sullivan. And the first production was Arthur Wing Pinero’s The Profligate, with subsequent plays including the comedy A Pair Of Spectacles. Other notable productions in the 20th century were J. M. Barrie’s The Wedding Guest, Rutland Barrington’s Water Babies and Gilbert’s own Harlequin and The Fairy’s Dilemma.
The Garrick is known mostly for productions of hit comedies and comedy-dramas. Some notable examples of these productions include the 1982 transfer from the Strand Theatre of the hilarious farce No Sex Please We’re British, which went on to transfer again to the Duchess Theatre in August 1986.
The National Theatre’s acclaimed 1995 production of J. B. Priestley’s An Inspector Calls transferred to the Garrick after a hugely successful run at the NT’s Lyttelton and Olivier theatres, following a run at the Aldwych theatre and a season on Broadway.”
From Wikipedia:
“Harlequin and the Fairy’s Dilemma, retitled The Fairy’s Dilemma shortly after the play opened, is a play in two acts by W. S. Gilbert that parodies the harlequinade that concluded 19th-century pantomimes.
It was produced at the Garrick Theatre by Arthur Bourchier, lessee of the theatre, on 3 May 1904 and ran for 90 performances, closing on 22 July 1904. The work was Gilbert’s last full-length play.
Arthur Bourchier had leased the Garrick in 1900, and he and his wife Violet Vanbrugh starred in numerous plays there over the next six years often producing new works, including The Fairy’s Dilemma.
The Fairy’s Dilemma is a parody of the conventional harlequinade and of melodrama. However, the play was written decades after the heyday of the harlequinade. Houses were good at first, but despite its initial success and good reviews, the audience dwindled, and it lasted only 90 performances and was withdrawn on 22 July 1904. Violet Vanbrugh speculated that too few theatregoers remembered the old harlequinade well enough to enjoy the parody. Nevertheless, the piece was sent on a brief tour.”
“We often derive much profit from reading a book in a different way from that which its author intended…
…but only (once childhood is over) if we know that we are doing so.”: Wystan Hugh Auden (21 February 1907 – 29 September 1973); British-American poet.
Rachel Schmidt wrote for the Public Domain Review of 6.4.16:
“…The literary fame (Miguel de) Cervantes gained in his lifetime was for writing Don Quixote de la Mancha (1605). The book tells the story of Alonso Quijano, a country gentleman whose limited estate has been eaten away by the costs to both his purse and mental stability caused by his non-stop consumption of chivalric romance. Proclaiming himself the knight errant Don Quixote de la Mancha in an age when knights no longer exist, he sets off, accompanied by the peasant Sancho Panza, to right imaginary wrongs, only to meet with beatings by those who consider him at best a madman, if not a fool…
…In his illustrations (see main image) for the 1863 Paris Hachette edition, Gustave Doré took advantage of the diversity of the iconographic traditions to create a visually exuberant and even contradictory vision of Cervantes’ novel. The French illustrator carried the sentimental tradition to its extreme, seeing not only Don Quixote as the hero he believed himself to be but also seeing the world from his perspective. Granted new technical capacity to explore dark tones through wood engraving, Doré reveled in depicting night scenes, wringing from them their lugubrious ambient qualities.”
The Dunmore Pineapple is a folly in Dunmore Park, near Airth in Stirlingshire, Scotland. In 1995 it was ranked “as the most bizarre building in Scotland”. Some suggest that the pineapple was constructed after the return from America in 1776 of John Murray (1730-1809), 4th Earl of Dunmore, the the last royal governor of Virginia.
He directed a series of campaigns against the trans-Appalachian Indians, known as Lord Dunmore’s War, and is noted for issuing a 1775 document, Dunmore’s Proclamation, offering freedom to any enslaved person who fought for the British Crown against Patriot rebels in Virginia. When he realized he could not regain control in Virginia, Dunmore returned to Britain in July 1776. Dunmore continued to draw his pay as the colony’s governor until 1783 when Britain recognized American independence.
In 1774 he had observed that the Americans “for ever imagine the Lands further off are still better than those upon which they are already settled”. He added that, “if they attained Paradise, they would move on if they heard of a better place farther west”.
Dale Wasserman (November 2, 1914 – December 21, 2008) was the American son of Russian immigrants who both died before he was ten. He lived in a state orphanage and with an older brother in South Dakota before he “hit the rails”. He later said, “I’m a self-educated hobo. My entire adolescence was spent as a hobo.” He spent one year at high school in Los Angeles before working in various aspects of theatre from the age of 19.
He wrote: “In 1964, I’d undertaken the conversion of my television play (I, Don Quixote) into a musical to be called, eventually, Man of La Mancha…
…a play’s most eloquent passages are generally preempted by the lyricist to become songs…I was interested in which lyricist would be acquiring title to the “aria” speeches which were the emotional heart of my play…the producers put forward the name of W.H. Auden…Auden was presumably an expert on the novel Don Quixote, having written and lectured on its more arcane aspects. I had little love for the novel, and I was no scholar. But this was my play, my own willful invention, and it was not an adaptation of the novel; it was a play about a few hours in the life of a playwright known as Miguel de Cervantes…
…In the original play, I had written a response by Don Quixote in answer to Aldonza’s demand, “What does it mean–quest?” The Don answers, “The mission of each true knight. His duty–nay, his privilege. To dream the impossible dream. To fight the unbeatable foe. And never to stop dreaming or fighting. …” I felt sure that the “impossible dream” phrase would be seized upon by a lyricist as the defining, if somewhat highfalutin’, proclamation of the Don’s credo. Auden chose to ignore it…”…
“So you see, old boy, he does recant.”
“Only in your play,” I said.
The collaboration was at an end. Auden was paid, signed a quit-claim and departed immediately for Austria…”
Howard Mancing, a Cervantes scholar, has recently discovered an earlier use of the line “To dream the impossible dream, to fight the unbeatable foe,” – the lines were actually invented for publicity matter that accompanied an earlier stage adaptation of Don Quixote by the American playwright Paul Kester, first performed in 1908.
Ninety years after that first performance of Kester’s play, in 1998, Ralph Anspach, an economics professor who had fled Nazi Europe, wrote “The Billion Dollar Monopoly Swindle”, recounting his legal battle with General Mills, which owned Parker Brothers, manufacturers of the board game Monopoly.
In the early two-thousands, Stephen Ives, a documentarian based in New York, invited Anspach to the city and filmed an interview. The project stalled, but the footage was revived for the PBS film, “Ruthless: Monopoly’s Secret History,” which Ives directed.
Simon Parkin wrote in the New Yorker in February this year:
“…we don’t need a documentary to illustrate the ironies of Monopoly. Its politics are transparent; each player starts with the same amount of cash and opportunities, even though, in real life, race, class, gender, and a range of other factors inflect a person’s chance of success. The game disguises luck as skill, misrepresents the American Dream, and promises wealth and power at the expense of others. Only in its final moments do we see the victor’s most enduring reward: isolation.”
The Courtfield Conservation Area
From the CAMRA London Pub Guide:
“Courtfield
Originally built in 1876 by builder/property developer, Edward Francis, as the Courtfield Hotel, opposite *Earls Court Station, this pub has an impressive front bar with tall windows and a high ceiling. Chandeliers and lanterns suspended above the bar add to the period atmosphere. The rear area has attractive wood panelling and relaxing banquettes. Sports matches are shown on screens situated around the pub. Friendly staff provide good service.”
* “The original wooden station opened on 30th October 1871 but had burnt down on 30th December 1875. A new permanent building on the west side of Earl’s Court Road, designed under the supervision of the District Railway’s engineer-in-chief John (later Sir John) Wolfe-Barry, was opened on 1st February 1878.” (Heritage Gateway)
From the Courtfield Conservation Area Appraisal of 14 December 2015:
“The Courtfield Conservation Area is a residential neighbourhood surrounded by Cromwell Road to the north, Earl’s Court Road to the west, and Old Brompton Road to the south. The area is characterized by Victorian formal terraces, mature gardens, and generous road widths, with buildings primarily dating from 1870 to 1900. Courtfield boasts a mix of architectural styles, including Italianate and red brick terraces, and mansion blocks. The area is also known for its picturesque streetscape, with numerous mature street trees and lushly planted garden squares. Traditional cast iron railings around some areas such as the Courtfield Gardens have been restored (the originals having been removed on the orders of the MoD (UK) in 1940 for munitions during the Second World War) creating a more authentic Victorian ambience.”
From the Survey of London: Volume 42, Kensington Square To Earl’s Court. Originally published by London County Council (1986):
“…In the sixteenth century all the area may have been part of the holding known as Courtfield, which extended as far east as Hogmore Lane (Gloucester Road). By the 1640s a small southern part was called Little Courtfield or Daniel’s Field and by 1694 a portion abutting on Earl’s Court Lane Four Acre Courtfield, leaving the designation Great Courtfield for most of the remainder of the area discussed here. In the eighteenth century a southwestern portion around the main farmhouse (and including part of the former Four Acre Courtfield) became known as Home Field. Little Courtfield long remained copyhold of Earl’s Court manor but by the eighteenth century manorial control had lapsed over most of the area…
…Building proceeded slowly but by the end of 1878 (Edward) Francis appears to have made at least a start on all the house plots on the north and west sides of (Earl’s Court Square) and on the east side as far south as Farnell Mews. Up to this date Lord Kensington granted all of the building leases directly to Francis with the exception of those of Nos. 13 and 25–31 (odd) which were granted to Sir William Palliser and of No. 69 which was granted, by Francis’s direction, to Lee and Chapman, timber merchants, of King William Street in the City.
The houses Francis was building were large and expensive, even by the standards of the day, and he financed his operations in a variety of ways.
He obtained first mortgages through the auspices of several solicitors including Thomas Lyon of Newman and Lyon, who was much involved in the financing of building speculation hereabouts and who himself lent substantial sums to Francis on the security of the leases of three houses on the north side of the square, Benjamin Hardwick of Hardwick and Jones, who was the first occupant of No. 296 Earl’s Court Road, and John Leonard Tomlin, the Gunters’ solicitor, who was the freeholder of ground in Earl’s Court Gardens on which Francis was also building. Francis soon mortgaged some of his leases for a second time, an accountant of Clapham, for instance, providing further loans on the security of the houses already mortgaged to Lyon. He also sold improved ground rents, Lee and Chapman, the timber merchants who were lessees of No. 69, purchasing several of these. Finally, in December 1878, he mortgaged several houses, most if not all of them already subject to other incumbrances, to the Midland Land and Investment Corporation Limited ‘for large sums of money’.
By March 1879 Francis had exhausted his credit and petitioned the Court of Bankruptcty for liquidation of his affairs by arrangement with his creditors. At a subsequent meeting, his creditors agreed by a majority decision to accede to this request and not to press for a formal declaration of bankruptcy. Henry Smith, a builder who lived in Tregunter Road and had formerly done jobbing work for Corbett and McClymont, was appointed trustee in liquidation. (In subsequent deeds apportioning some of Francis’s leasehold interests between Lee and Chapman and the Midland Land and Investment Corporation, who were among his principal creditors, the signatures of Francis and Smith were witnessed by T. E. Lewin, a member of the family firm of solicitors employed by Corbett and McClymont.) Leases of three house plots which had not yet been accounted for, those of Nos. 39 and 24–26, were granted in 1881 by Lord Kensington to the Midland Land and Investment Corporation.
The late 1870s were particularly difficult years for builders in South Kensington (Corbett and McClymont, by far the largest operators in the area, having themselves gone bankrupt in 1878) and Francis appears to have completely misjudged his market in building such large and ambitious houses. The evidence suggests that their rate of occupancy was even slower than their rate of building. At the time of the census of 1881 twenty-six out of a total of forty-eight houses were unoccupied or unfinished, and three others had only temporary caretakers in charge. (Those inhabitants who had taken up residence in the square, however, included army officers, members of the professions, higher civil servants, merchants, rentiers and the like, and on average there were over four servants to each household.) As late as 1885 twenty-two houses were apparently still unoccupied, and a few remained so into the 1890s.
By this time building was also taking place on the south side of the square, which had remained untouched while the other sides were being developed. Francis must have disposed of his interest in the land here to Sir William Palliser, who as early as 1877 had submitted proposals for the layout of the south side.”
Julia Upton 