NURSERY SCHOOL SING-A-LONG – Anne Ziegler and Webster Booth. Recording made in August, 1963.

Anne and Webster with Maltese, Lemon. and Spinach, the cat around the time when the recording was made.

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There was so much going on for me in the remarkable year of 1963 that I had almost forgotten the record Anne and Webster made in August of that year. Not only did they sing on the record, but my piano teacher, Sylvia Sullivan conducted the Nazareth House Children’s Choir, where she taught music. Anne and Webster’s neighbour, Gwen Murray, who lived across the road from them in Buckingham Avenue, Craighall Park arranged for the recording to be made. Her son Michaael and his friend Peter Morrison took part in the recording and Heinz Alexander, the well-known organist and pianist played the piano accompaniment.

The reason why I suddenly remembered the recording today was that Google pointed it out to me! I hadn’t heard it for a while and was actually quite impressed to hear it today. Webster was sixty-one at the time and Anne was fifty-three. Anne does not sound nearly as at ease as Webster does. One might have imagined that doing something like this might have been beneath them but he certainly entered into the spirit of it and seemed to enjoy doing it just as the children enjoyed working with him.

He was impressed with Sylvia Sullivan’s conducting and she was flattered that he singled her out to keep the music flowing at a good pace. He also told her that he was delighted to have me as his studio accompanist when Anne wasn’t available.

Sylvia Sullivan with her great-niece.

The Nazareth House children were allowed to stay up later than usual one Saturday night so that they could listen to the programme he was presenting on the English Service of the SABC. I wonder whether any of them remember making this recording sixty-one years ago. Even they are probably in their seventies by now.

You can hear a sample of the recording here:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1-P1r8ZkrrVEUmf3lwVQtNhoKf1oD_uNY/view?usp=drive_link

Jean Collen 28 April 2024.

PLACES ASSOCIATED WITH WEBSTER BOOTH AND ANNE ZIEGLER IN SOUTH AFRICA (1956 – 1978) AND IN THE UK. 1978 – 2003).

Webster Booth and Anne Ziegler emigrated to South Africa in July 1956. While they were looking for a suitable home in Johannesburg they lived at Dawson’s Hotel for three months.  The above photograph shows the hotel at the corner of Von Brandis and President Street as it was in 1972. It was considered one of the best hotels in Johannesburg after the Carlton and the Langham hotels in 1956.

They found a flat at Waverley, Highlands North, just off Louis Botha Avenue, where they lived for several years. Here they are with the Hillman Convertible outside the flat in 1956.

They rented a studio in the centre of the city on the eighth floor of Polliacks Corner, at the corner of Eloff and Pritchard Street. It was advertised as the Anne Ziegler and Webster Booth School of Singing and Stagecraft. The building was opposite the OK Bazaars.

Little 12-year old boys gathered each morning to play melodious Kwela music, using a penny whistle, and a bass made of a tea-chest outside the OK Bazaars. The studio was beyond John Orr’s, the upmarket department store in Pritchard Street.

Polliack’s Corner, the building with balconies on the right. Anne and Webster had a studio on the eighth floor.

In 1958 Anne and Webster bought a house at 121 Buckingham Avenue, Craighall Park in the northern suburbs of Johannesburg. Anne said they paid R4000 (£2000) for the house and thought they did very well when they sold it for R8000 (£4000) five years later.

On Wednesday afternoons Webster went to Zoo Lake Bowling Club where he played bowls in “the most beautiful setting in the world”. I was sorry to hear that this bowling club’s lease has not been renewed and was closed in February 2011. I had hoped that it could be saved as it has been on this site for over fifty years.

Their second home in Johannesburg was at 31a Second Avenue, Parktown North, where they lived until 1967 when they moved to Knysna in the Cape.

The first house in Knysna was at 4 Azalea Street, Paradise, Knysna.

4 Azalea Street, Knysna.

Webster with Lemon, the Maltese in the garden at Azalea Street.

Anne and Webster in the garden at Azalea Street. Photo: Dudley Holmes.

18 Graham Street, Knysna.

They advertised the house in Azalea Street not long after they moved in. Their second home in Knysna where they stayed until 1974 was a Settler Cottage at 18 Graham Street. At first they planned to let the upper storey as a holiday let but were put off by noisy holiday tenants. Eventually they let the upper storey on a permanent basis to Freda Boyce (later Davies) and her father, Fred Cropper. They became very good friends.

The Beacon Isle Hotel was built at Plettenberg Bay, the adjoining town to Knysna and attracted visitors from other parts of the country. Anne and Webster sang at its opening around 1970.

The new ‘Crowhurst’ was in Picardy Avenue, Somerset West. Anne is standing next to the cars. (1975) Photo: Dudley Holmes

In 1974 they had moved  to Somerset West near Cape Town where the cost of living was less than in Knysna, and where they hoped to obtain more work in broadcasting and teaching but there were few pupils and few broadcasting engagements. Webster conducted the Somerset and District Choral Society but he was not even offered a fee for doing this! 

After a time they moved into a maisonette and prepared to return to the United Kingdom in 1978 as Anne’s life-long friend, Babs Wilson-Hill (Marie Thompson) offered to purchase a small bungalow in Penrhyn Bay, Llandudno, North Wales and agreed that they could live there rent-free for the rest of their lives. 

Webster died on 21 June 1984 after a long illness at the age of 82. Anne lived on in the bungalow until her death on 13 October 2003 at the age of 93.                      

The bungalow in Penrhyn Bay.

Jean Collen.
July 2010 Revised 2024.

Miscellaneous correspondence and inscriptions to fans and others: 1934 – 1980

 Shanklin 1934

 Here is a copy of a letter sent from “Madeleine” who was on holiday on the Isle of Wight during the summer of 1934. She sent the letter and photograph below to her friends Lily and Phil, who must have been fans of Webster Booth.

  Dear Lily and Phil,

 Thought you would like a Photograph of Webster. We went to see Sunshine the night before last – they were great. The weather up to now has been very fine with a strong wind blowing. I must say I like the Island very much, and I am enjoying myself very much indeed.

 Best love to you both,

 Madeleine.

Webster’s note to a fan – 10 September 1936

27 December 1938 Webster from BBC Bristol.

28 February 1940 Anne to Mr Newman from Lauderdale Mansions.

 Anne to fan 13 November 1942 from Crowhurst, Torrington Park, Friern Barnet

Anne with fan, Gladys Reed outside the stage door of the Palladium.

August 1942 envelope to Gladys Reed.

13 November 1942 Note to unnamed fan.

Inscription in a book. What does it mean? 31 January 1943.

10 March 1943 from Grand Hotel, Manchester to a fan, Miss Wigglesworth.

18 November 1943 to Gladys from North British Station Hotel, Glasgow.

1948 To a New Zealand fan during their tour there.

1953 Coronation Dinner onboard ship returning from Canada.

1955 Anne’s inscription in Duet to Betty who had appeared with Anne in the panto 1954/1955

 

1 April 1955 letter to Gerald Iles, the Belle Vue Zoo, Manchester.

Reply to Anne’s letter: 4 April 1955

16 November 1955 – Anne and Webster on tour in the Cape.

July 1956 on board the Pretoria Castle on the way to South Africa

Letter to Mabel Fenney in East London, South Africa – 30 April 1959

 30 April 1959. Letter to Mabel Fenney in East London

                                           Letter to fan, Mr Shepherd, 11 September 1979

                                                               27 October 1980 to Mr Rollins.

Jean Collen, March 2024.

THOMAS ROUND.

Thomas Round

Thomas Round. 1915 – 2016.

I first heard of Thomas Round when he came out to Johannesburg in 1964 with a full English company of ‘Lilac Time’ although I probably had heard some of his recordings when Webster Booth presented his Gilbert and Sullivan series on the SABC in 1962. The company presented this work at the sumptuous His Majesty’s Theatre in Commissioner Street and the company stayed at the New Library Hotel across the road. In those days the New Library Hotel was a decent enough hotel and there were a number of theatres and cinemas in Commissioner Street, one of the main streets in Johannesburg running from East to West through the city.

New Library Hotel, Commissioner Street.

His Majesty’s Theatre, Commissioner Street.

Thomas Round had been a principal tenor with the D’Oyly Carte Opera Company for a number of years. When Sir Malcolm Sargent was supervising a batch of new recordings of the Gilbert and Sullivan operettas I believe that he and Thomas Round had an altercation and in the end, the young tenor at D’Oyly Carte, Philip Potter was chosen to sing those roles.

In 1964 I was still accompanying for Webster Booth when Anne Ziegler had other engagements and, having obtained my singing diplomas, I had started giving singing lessons in their studio in town on days when they were not teaching there. One day, shortly before my 21^st birthday, Thomas Round and Marion Studholme, the leading principals in ‘Lilac Time’ arrived at the door of the studio. They had come to collect a score of ‘The Yeomen of the Guard’ and were enquiring about studios to rent in Johannesburg. Presumably the Booths had promised that they could borrow the score when they had given a party to welcome the cast of ‘Lilac Time’ earlier. They were very pleasant indeed and I enjoyed seeing the show a few days later as a birthday treat. Webster had dinner with Tom Round one evening at the Library Hotel.

Early in 1966 I arrived in London and obtained a job at the Associated Board of the Royal Schools of Music which was then situated in Bedford Square. There I met Margaret W. She had not been there when I first arrived as she had been dressing for D’Oyly Carte for a week during their London season. Her mother had told the Board that Margaret had the ‘flu because she was so keen to work there. She was a few years younger than me and had all the G&S recordings at her home in St Albans. She was also a very great admirer of Thomas Round and when she heard that I had met him in South Africa she persuaded me to go to see ‘Lilac Time’ at the Golder’s Green Hippodrome! There I met Thomas Round again (and his wife this time). They invited me to have a drink with them after the show. Their son had graduated from university earlier that day and they were very proud of him.

Margaret lived in St Albans and eventually I found a music and drama teaching job at Wheathampstead near St Albans. My parents left South Africa and settled in St Albans and I went to live with them there. Thomas Round was living in Watford, close to St Albans and Margaret persuaded me to go with her one afternoon and sit at a bus station opposite his house! He did not put in an appearance much to her disappointment. She, and a number of fellow-fans followed him around to his various engagements. One of them even travelled the length and breadth of the country hoping to have a kind word from the great man when he emerged from the theatre! I went to one of his concerts with Margaret and the ‘gang’ and when he came out of the theatre, he said, ‘Not you lot again!’

I joined the St Albans Operatic Society and sang in several ‘Gilbert and Sullivans for All’ whilst I was there. As Anne mentioned in her comment, they were very pleasant shows with prominent G&S performers and a chorus made up from local operatic societies. Margaret and I were invited by one of her friends in the company to have a meal with the D’Oyly Carte company between shows in one of the towns south of London. I remember Donald Adams and Philip Potter being at the meal.

All so many years ago now but it came back to me when I read Suzanne’s comment in the group in the middle of last night! I would certainly like to read Tom Round’s autobiography some time but as the postal system in South Africa has all-but collapsed and the government plans to close over 200 more post offices, I doubt if I will ever be able to do that. I would like to know what he had to say about meeting Anne and Webster while he was in Johannesburg. He was 13 years younger than Webster, of a different generation.

Jean Collen.

WEBSTER BOOTH’S RELATIONSHIP WITH PETER DAWSON.

Webster Booth and Peter Dawson.

Soprano Anne Ziegler was born Irené Frances Eastwood, in Liverpool, England in June 1910. She chose her stage name by perusing the first and last letters of the alphabet.

Tenor Leslie Webster Booth was born in Birmingham, England, in January 1902. He was an established star in oratorio and Gilbert & Sullivan when the couple met in late 1934 while working on the British film Faust. In November 1938, Anne became Webster’s third wife.

Working mainly as a vocal duo they played concert halls, variety, pantomime and West End stage musicals such as Gangway (1941) and Sweet Yesterday (1945). When the first post-war Royal Variety Performance was held in November 1945 they were on the bill, helping entertain Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret Rose on their first theatre outing.

The act which most impressed the young royals was the Australian Colleano family with their spectacular dancing acrobatics.

Both Anne Ziegler and Webster Booth made solo recordings, but it was as duettists they are best remembered. As a team they recorded about 70 titles for His Master’s Voice in London from late 1939 to late 1951 – mainly ballads, sacred songs and tunes from operettas.

As a soloist, Webster’s recording career commenced with HMV in 1929, helped by an introduction from Peter Dawson. Some of his work was in male choruses backing singers like Dawson, Stuart Robertson and George Baker. The Booths were regular guests on radio shows, including the BBC’s Music for Romance.

While the couple were inseparable both on and off stage, they had a personal relationship which has been described as both stormy and loving, suggesting they were highly strung and could be temperamental.

In an interview in 1988, Australian pianist Geoffrey Parsons, who toured with the two singers, remarked that ‘The intensentity of their shimmering love duets was equalled only by the bitterness of their backstage rows.’

Despite their volatility the Booths delighted audiences around the world with their superb performances of light operatic and show melodies, including a successful tour of Australia and New Zealand in 1948, undertaken at the suggestion of Peter Dawson.

The singers moved to South Africa in 1956 where they opened a singing studio and continued to perform.

Returning to the United Kingdom in 1977, they settled in North Wales, from where they travelled extensively giving talks and concerts. They gave their last concert together in 1983.

Webster Booth died on 21 June 1984, after a long illness during which *he was cared for at home by his wife.

• NB He was admitted to a nursing home and was only cared for at home in the last few weeks of his life! (JC)

Anne Ziegler continued to live at Penrhyn Bay in North Wales, giving talks on their careers to local clubs and societies. After a bad fall and spell in hospital, she died aged 93 in October 2003.

In preparing a biography of Peter Dawson (written with Dr Russell Smith of Hobart) Peter Dawson” The World’s Most Popular Baritone (Currency Press, Sydney, 2001) I came across contrasting views on the bond between these three singers as the following extracts illustrate:

Webster Booth in an undated letter (ie 1982) to archivist Ron Hughes: ‘I am only too pleased to give any information on my great friendship with Peter. My wife and I wrote our book Duet in 1951 and Peter was mentioned at least 7 times.

Without Peter’s great help our push for success would not have been easy if at all possible. Peter was possibly the greatest friend and adviser I had in my young days. If Mr Tony Martin (researcher) is up this way I would be delighted to meet him and talk of the wonderful times I had with Peter.’

Anne Ziegler, writing on behalf of her ill husband, in a letter dated October 1983, to researcher Tony Martin: Webster’s memory has completely gone- alas – and he would not be able to give more details of Peter Dawson, other than those in his letter to Mr Hughes. I didn’t see the contents of his letter to Mr Hughes, but I must tell you that they were not really great friends. My husband was naturally extremely grateful to Peter in getting him a recording audition. They hardly met from then on, until he, pianists Rawicz and Landauer, and we did an extended concert tour for Harold Fielding. The last time they met was in the ’50s when we worked with him in a concert somewhere in Lancashire when Geoffrey Parsons – newly arrived from Australia – played for him.

Peter Dawson, in a letter dated 1 December 1949 to Arch Kerr, recording manager of EMI, Sydney: Fielding had signed me on for 10 months exclusive for concerts and broadcasting – I wonder who Fielding will couple up with me. I hope neither the Booths or Rawicz and Landauer blokes – I’ve had them all!

So we end up with Webster Booth claiming he and Peter Dawson were life-long mates; Anne Ziegler reckoning that they hardly knew each other; Peter Dawson not keen to be in the same room as either of them.

I think it was Solomon who said that ‘reseach wasn’t mean to be easy’. Solomon the pianist, that is, not he of the Old Testament wisdom.

PETER BURGIS.

.JEAN COLLEN:

I am including this derogatory article. It makes fools of Anne and Webster as well as casting doubt on Webster’s friendship with Peter Dawson. I wonder whether Peter Dawson really expressed a dislike of them and of Rawicz and Landauer. The latter were very good friends of the Booths and visited them when they were on tour in South Africa with Kenneth McKellar in 1966. I have decided to make this article public and would be interested in your thoughts about it if you should read it. I don’t think it paints any of them in a good light!

Jean Collen.

PETER DAWSON: FIFTY YEARS OF SONG – WEBSTER BOOTH (136 – 137)

There is another popular vocalist who must thank the gramophone for establishing him in the music world. I can claim a share in his success as I was responsible for taking him to the Gramophone Company and arranging that he should be given an audition.

My old friend Ernest Butcher came to see me when I was singing in concert at Blackpool; he had a ‘Pierrot’ show in another hall. Ernest Butcher, in addition to being a very excellent comedian, has a very good voice, is a witty raconteur and can write songs.

When I asked him about his company he told me that he had a tenor of whom he thought a very great deal, so much so, in fact, that he begged me to come along and hear the fellow sing. Ernest was, and still is, a good judge of a voice. So I went along and heard the tenor sing ‘On with the Motley’. He certainly had a remarkably good voice. And he had a good presence. I congratulated him on his voice, and asked whether he had ever thought of making records. He had, but, like many other artistes at that time, found it was extremely difficult to get a trial. I therefore arranged that when he was next in London he should give me a ‘phone call. Later this was done, and I took him along to Fred Gaisberg, and asked for a trial. ‘This fellow has a good voice, and I think a good one for recording. You know I wouldn’t bring along anyone I wasn’t sure of, Fred.’ A trial was duly made, and Fred told me that ‘He is inclined to bleat a bit, but you are right, he has a voice. I’m going to try him on the Zonophone.’

The Zonophone was a subsidiary of the HMV. Bleating is a common fault, and it did not take Webster Booth – for that’s who it was – a few minutes to correct it, once he heard his own voice. After that he never looked back. From the Zonophone he was promoted to the HMV and from there he went on into more and better-paid engagements. I asked for him when I made the series of marching songs with chorus, and generally watched over his progress until he was fully established. Once again, in 1948, I was able to persuade him and his charming wife, Anne Ziegler, to make a tour of Australia. In letters to me from there he expressed his delight of the people, the country and the success they both made. ‘How right you were once again, Peter,’ the last letter ended.

Yes. A chance meeting; a successful gramophone début, and another reputation is launched to success.

Peter Dawson, Fifty Years of Song, Hutchinson & Co. 1951

This book was published in 1951 at the same time as Anne and Webster’s autobiography ‘Duet’. I would be surprised if Peter Dawson would have written in such an uncomplimentary manner about the Booths in 1949 while being quite proud of helping Webster start his recording career. JC.

I am including this derogatory article although it makes fools of Anne and Webster as well as casting doubt on Webster’s friendship with Peter Dawson. I wonder whether Peter Dawson really expressed a dislike of them and Rawicz and Landauer. The latter were very good friends of the Booths and visited them when they were on tour in South Africa with Kenneth McKellar in 1966. This article is password protected if anyone cares to read it. Ask me for the password. I would be interested in your thoughts about it if you should read it. I don’t think this article paints any of them in a good light! At this stage I will be surprised if anyone on earth would be interested in reading it.

Jean Collen.

Medley featuring Webster Booth and Peter Dawson singing a selection of the same songs.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/18MiBZ5TckAg-sbjt0k9qpcXZdm96m1xH/view?usp=drive_link

BUYING A ROLLS ROYCE -1 November, 1954

British singers Anne Ziegler and Webster Booth are viewing a Rolls Royce with Patricia Swain -1950.

Over afternoon tea British singers, Anne Ziegler and Webster Booth listen to the advert. 1950.

British singer, Webster Booth is shown the interior of a Rolls Royce by Patricia Swain. 1950.

British singer Anne Ziegler (left, 1910 – 2003) is shown the interior of a Rolls Royce by Patricia Swain, director of her husband’s HR Owen luxury car showroom at Berkeley Street, Mayfair, London, November 1954. She is inspecting a make-up mirror which unfolds from behind the cocktail cabinet in the Rolls she and her husband Webster Booth have purchased. (Photo by John Drysdale/Keystone Features/Hulton Archive/Getty Images)

https://www.gettyimages.co.uk/detail/news-photo/british-singers-anne-ziegler-and-husband-webster-booth-with-news-photo/1937074873

British singers, Anne Ziegler and Webster Booth in Rolls Royce with Patricia Swain. 1 November 1954..

1 November 1954. Buying a Rolls Royce.

Less than two years later in July 1956 they left the United Kingdom on the Pretoria Castle bound for Cape Town. They settled in Johannesburg, South Africa and stayed there until 1978. When they were first in South Africa they drove a Ford Zephyr and a Hillman Minx convertible.

Hillman Minx, 1956, Highlands North.

On my page on Facebook Charles Regan pointed out in a comment:

Nice choice. A Standard Steel Silver Dawn, fitted out to your own requirements, or a Silver Wraith, built by your coachbuilder of choice, and made exclusively for you.

Jean Collen 22 January 2024.

Extract from Teenage Diaries 7/8 December 1961 – 62 years ago!

Me in 1961 with Shandy.

7 December 2023 Introduction. The year is nearly at an end. I am still recovering from endocarditis having spent nearly three weeks in hospital in September/October receiving multiple antibiotic intravenous drips into very small stubborn veins. Thankfully, I seem to have recovered from this infection without being left with a heart murmur but I don’t have much energy so I am leading a very quiet life indeed in my eightieth year. The nurses at the L… Hospital addressed me either as ‘Granny’ or ‘Gogo’!

My husband had to give up driving several years ago because of macro-degeneration of the eyes. We have our food delivered to the house once a week, and order other purchases online to be delivered by couriers. We depend on our children to take us to medical appointments. The political situation in South Africa is dire and we are often without water and regularly have ‘load-shedding’ – in other words – power outages – lasting for at least two and a half hours at a time.

Errol and me shortly before my illness. Photo: Pearl Harris.

In High Care at ‘L’… Hospital.

At home after checkup with the two doctors who treated me. October 2023.

Here follows what was happening in my life 62 years ago when I had just turned 18 and was keeping a regular diary after reading ‘The Provincial Lady’ diaries of E.M Delafield. At the time I was a year out of school and working in the Cable Department of Barclays Bank in Market Street, Johannesburg.

November 1961. Write-up by Garry Allighan.

7 December 1961 Work. Have lunch with mum in Anstey’s. Go to studio after work and Webster answers the door looking fit. I sit in the kitchen listening to Nellie, the middle-aged pupil who has her lesson before me.

When I go in I ask Webster how he enjoyed Durban and Port Elizabeth. He says he had a wonderful time but was furious that the SABC didn’t broadcast The Dream or Messiah but put on an Afrikaans Messiah on Sunday which was grim and very poorly done. Handel must have been turning in his grave, says he. “That damned Anton Hartman,” he adds.

I make tea for myself and pay Anne before starting on exercises and scales. In the middle of the vocalisation exercise the phone rings. It is Mum to tell me to meet Dad outside the studio to get a lift home. It is the first time I am in their little office and see all the playbills displayed there with their names 50” high and wide!

We go on with the songs and they cannot decide where the grace note in Polly Oliver should go so they take the book home to check up on it.

We do My Mother Bids Me Bind My Hair. and Webster sings it with me to get the accompaniment right. His singing is more wonderful than ever. Imagine singing with the best tenor in the world (which is what I know he is!)

I depart with Webster in the lift. He moans at me about the SABC not broadcasting the PE oratorios. He says Anton Hartman put his own wife into the Afrikaans Messiah and the bass was putrid with a limited range. At least the critic, Gary Allighan, stuck up for him.

He stands with me in Pritchard street for a little while and asks if I’ll be all right. I insist I shall so he says goodbye and walks purposefully off to fetch his car. While I’m waiting for Dad Anne comes down and we talk about how lackadaisical the choir is. She decides it’s going to rain so she dashes to the other side of the road. Dad arrives on the other side too so I wave at her and depart.

Go to SABC choir and we record the carol concert for Christmas day. There is a huge crowd there, including Annie Kossman, leader of the orchestra. I sit near Gill V and we sing for all our worth. A photographer takes a number of photographs and Johan van der Merwe conducts beautifully and all is glorious.

At our tea break I look around for Ruth O. See a likely-looking girl – small with deep blue eyes. However, when I go out, all I can do is stare at her and she stares at me. She is sitting all by herself in the foyer. I suffer Gill, Mrs Viljoen, and Rita Oosthuisen and then, when I go back into the studio, I decide to take the bull by the horns.

Ruth Ormond.

I go over to her and say, “Are you Ruth Ormond?” She says, yes, she is. I tell her that I’m a pupil of Webster and Anne and I believe she is too. She is quite delighted and tells me that Anne told her about me, saying I was tall and dark and she is very, very fond of me indeed. I tell Ruth what Anne said about her. Ruth says, “I’ll bet she said I was shy-looking.” I deny this, although Anne had said she was very intense. She tells me that she plays the piano but doesn’t play very well and we both agree that singing is wonderful and we love it more than anything but the piano is a means to an end. She’s been learning with the Booths for a year and a half. We agree too that they are both pets and good teachers, and we talk about him singing in Port Elizabeth.

She is a perfectly lovely girl and terrific fun but she seems a little lonely. She has the same enthusiasm as Roselle but she is quieter. I’m so glad I’ve met her and I’m sure we will be friends.

Return to my place and we manage to finish the recording. There’s a party on Monday. Says Johan, “Tea or coffee will be served in the canteen.” There is hollow laughter all round. I hope Ruth goes.

8 December – Work. Listen to the tape-recording Dad made of Webster’s programme last night – Kathleen Ferrier, Isobel Baillie, Laurence Tibbet, Webster and Anne singing Porgy and Bess, and something specially written for them by Harry Parr-Davies, and Webster singing Give and Forgive…

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1dXcuUEX_9CwjpB2ZK1SdwVgMg_BTaOsM/view?usp=sharing

Twentieth Anniversary of Anne Ziegler’s Death. 22 June 1910 – 13 October 2003

Bonnie and me, Anne and Bonnie (October 1990 in Penrhyn Bay)

I had prepared this for the 20th anniversary of the death of Anne Ziegler but I was taken ill in September of 2023 and spent nearly three weeks in hospital. Dudley Holmes was kind enough to remember the day in the Webster Booth-Anne Ziegler Appreciation Group on Facebook for me. I am a little better now and can post this tribute to Anne now.

It is hard to believe that it is twenty years since Anne Ziegler died on 13 October 2003. I have included an extract from my book here to commemorate the day. It may be found at: https://www.lulu.com/spotlight/duettists

Second edition of my first book, published about 2019.

In 2002 Anne was saddened at the death of the Queen Mother and went into mourning for her with the rest of the nation. The photograph of the Queen Mother, which she had presented to Anne on their visit to the Royal Lodge, had a prominent place in her sitting room. Anne said that she would always remember the Queen Mother’s kindness to them on that visit. She wrote to me, “She was one of our genuine fans”. I recalled that the Queen Mother had told me this much herself when I was presented to her at Wheathampstead Secondary School in 1968.

Jean meets the Queen Mother at Wheathampstead Secondary School, 1968.

Anne was finding it increasingly difficult to take Toby, her little Yorky, for his daily walk, although the doctor assured her that the exercise was good for her. Her feet were water-logged and walking was increasingly painful. When things became too much for her she reluctantly gave him up to a new owner with a big garden. He was taken for two long walks on the beach each day. Although she missed him terribly she could not bring herself to phone the new owner to inquire about him, as she could not have borne it if anything had happened to him.

Anne and Toby.

After another bad fall Anne spent a month in hospital and convalescent home. In September she was back in hospital with further heart problems. She needed help with her shopping. She told me that it was all very well to look back on her singing career, but these memories did not help her with the struggle of day-to-day living. She added, “What can you expect at ninety-two?”

She was not alone at Christmas the following year, but spent the day with the late Sally Rayner, a reflexologist, who. although a fairly recent acquaintance, had taken over Jean Buckley’s role as executrix of her will. Anne looked forward to seeing Gwen, her home help, once a week and sometimes went shopping with her. She wore a panic button around her neck in case she had a bad turn and could not reach the telephone, and she arranged to have meals from Meals on Wheels delivered to her. She told me that after the age of ninety the body packs up even though the mind might remain alert.

Dudley Holmes was planning to go over to the UK in September 2003 to visit Anne with his friend, Reverend Owen Franklin, who was a priest at a parish in Newcastle-under-Lyme.

Dudley Holmes, friend and student of Anne and Webster.

I received my last letter from Anne, dated 15 June 2003. She did not feel well, but was grateful that her carer came in each day for an hour and that Sally was kind enough to do her shopping for her. She still had her car, but was sad that there was nobody who had time to go out for coffee or shop with her.

She added:

Since my trip to visit her in the UK we had spoken on the phone at regular intervals. For the last few years Anne had not written as frequently as before, although I had continued to write to her, whether she wrote or not. Not all her other friends did the same.

She said:

“I seem to have stopped hearing from my other SA friends – I am wondering if they have ‘“popped off”’ – or it’s too much trouble to write!!”

I phoned Anne on 3 August 2003. By this time her carer was coming in three times a day. Anne could still joke, “Once in the morning to see I am still alive, next at lunch time, and then at 6pm to see I’m having supper and set for the night.”

We spoke of the days in Johannesburg when I was young – and she much younger – when everything had been happy and carefree. She could not believe that I was nearly sixty as she always thought of me as a young woman. It was forty years since I had first started playing for Webster when she went away on the trip with Leslie Green.

She had not seen her old friend Babs Wilson-Hill (who had bought the bungalow for them) for over a year and did not know if she was alive or dead. We decided that it was a pity that things had worked out so badly with Babs, as it could have been a very happy arrangement.

Five days after that phone call Anne had another dreadful fall. She was taken to the Llewellyn Ward at Llandudno Hospital, where Dudley and Owen found her in September. She was pleased to see Dudley, but he was deeply shocked at the change in her physical appearance. Dudley spoke to Sally, who told him that Anne could never return to the bungalow and that they were looking round to find a suitable frail care home for her. Although she would probably never be able to write to us again, we vowed that we would write to her regularly as long as she lived.

On 27 September I wrote a letter to Anne and enclosed a cutting about Kathleen Ferrier on the fiftieth anniversary of her death, and sent it care of Sally Rayner. On the morning of the 13 October there was a message from Sally to tell me that Anne was unlikely to last for more than a day or two.

I phoned Sally immediately and she told me that she was going in to sit with her that morning. Later that day Sally phoned again to let me know that Anne had died peacefully. She had sat with her, and later in the morning had been joined by Anne’s great-nephew, Michael, Jinnie’s son, from Liverpool. They remained with her, holding her hand until she passed away peacefully at 1.30 pm.

Sally had taken my letter in that morning to read out bits of interest to her – about Kathleen Ferrier, the records my actor friend, the late Bill Curry, had given me, and Love’s Philosophy, the song she had sung at her Wigmore Hall recital all those years ago. Sally said that some parts of the letter made her smile, although she had not opened her eyes for a long time.

Anne’s funeral took place on 21 October at 2.00 pm. The organist played We’ll Gather Lilacs at the beginning and their recording of Now is the Hour was played at the end of the service as the coffin disappeared behind the curtain. One of Sally’s friends, Stanley, a member of the Rhos on Sea Savoyards, sang their signature tune, Only a Rose, during the service.

Nick Booth and Princess Katherine taken circa 2012 when he was chief executive of the Royal Foundation.

About forty people, including Webster’s grandson, Nicholas Leslie Booth, and the Meals on Wheels ladies, attended the service on a rainy afternoon. Most of the people present had some firm connection with Anne, although there were a few curious “hangers-on” there too. Forty people did not seem a large number considering who she was and how many friends she had made over the years.

A week or so later I was surprised to hear from Anne’s solicitors in Rhos on Sea that she had left me a legacy in her Will.

My note appeared in The Times on 7 November 2003.

There were obituaries for Anne in papers all over the world, but I was saddened that little notice was paid to her death in South Africa, where she and Webster had lived and worked for twenty-two years. My husband, Errol, sent an e-mail to the Afrikaans newspaper Die Beeld to inform them of Anne’s death but the paper made no mention of it.

Clare Marshall, actress and broadcaster of ‘Morning Star’ on Radio Today.

I contacted the actress and broadcaster, Clare Marshall at Radio Today to let her know that Anne had died. She was the only broadcaster in South Africa to pay a fitting tribute to Anne on the radio. Later I sent her copies of a number of their CDs and she continued to play them frequently on her Sunday morning programme, Morning Star until Radio Today changed complete direction and Clare no longer broadcast her lovely programme after that. In 2013 she invited me to appear on her programme to talk about Anne and Webster and to discuss my book with her.

Ironically, Anne’s friend Babs, who was two years older than her, had died two weeks before Anne, leaving all her money – nearly £1,000,000 – to various charities.

Babs Wilson-Hill (aged 94) shortly before she died in her lovely garden in Old Colwyn.

I had known, admired and loved Anne and Webster, and had been deeply influenced by them for forty-three years, and Anne’s death was the end of an era for me. I am left with a few sad, but many happy memories of them, some of which I have shared in this personal memoir. If they had never been able to sing a note, I would have loved them for their warm, generous and kind hearts, and as long as I live they will never be forgotten.

Anne and Webster arriving in Australia (1948)

Jean Collen. 27 October, 2023.

One of my favourite songs sung by Anne: A Song in the Night (Loughborough)

Here is Dudley singing ‘In Cellar Cool accompanied by Anne in 1968 https://drive.google.com/file/d/1pJ9-JDlD9vp1yeCdum93qNLUApKJiaV1/view?usp=drive_link

Anne and Webster sing ‘Liebestraum’ (Liszt)

ONLY A ROSE – RADIO SERIES – 1980.

This series was sent to me by the late Pamela Davies in the early 2000s.

Only a Rose (Radio Series) – BBC Radio 2, 6 August 1980 21.15  Anne Ziegler and Webster Booth recall on-stage memories and back-stage glimpses of many of the great artists they have met in the theatre, concert hall and studio. Producer DAVID WELSBY BBC Birmingham.

Part One of Anne and Webster’s reminiscences in the Only a Rose series. More may be heard at Ziegler Booth Radio. https://drive.google.com/file/d/1AO-KP6gI7JPkvVaAdeu4_gfOt7o8evSy/view?usp=sharing

Only a Rose (2) https://drive.google.com/file/d/1xJn3ft44KQz1k1hBOJVqkq0-ZxZqUtDM/view?usp=drive_link

Only a Rose (3) https://drive.google.com/file/d/1eNrhYFpVuEGWyarMteP-E2ZGQs7t6TY1/view?usp=drive_link

Only a Rose (4) https://drive.google.com/file/d/1uh8fJxITHbB_lVzJFj9l9vzuPJjtx6lf/view?usp=drive_link

Only a Rose (5) https://drive.google.com/file/d/1mFLAoPbtAq9kkSBsYm1Hkd2UC_oxu1ww/view?usp=drive_link

THE RECORD CONTRACT, a short story by FIONA COMPTON.

Gingerly Heather Craig nibbled on the thin slice of dry toast and drained her cup of weak black tea. The morning sickness was getting worse and she didn’t know if she could hide her pregnant state from Malcolm for much longer. She was relieved that she had an appointment with her gynaecologist that morning, and not a moment too soon.

Mrs Hubbard bustled into the dining room with the first post. Malcolm’s agent had forwarded the week’s fan mail, so she put the pile of letters at Malcolm’s place. The pile was not quite as high as it had been four or five years earlier, but it was still sizeable. In contrast, Heather received a few accounts and the weekly letter from her mother. Heather noticed that the month’s copy of Gramophone had arrived, probably containing the anticipated review of Malcolm’s first long-playing record.

Heather decided to read the review before Malcolm came down for breakfast. He was due at the recording studios later that morning for his regular recording session. She had difficulty in locating the review as it was much shorter than she had anticipated. As she read the brief review her nausea returned, this time brought on by shock and dismay. One sentence stood out above all the others.

“Only Malcolm Craig’s most ardent fans will enjoy this innocuous collection of highly forgettable songs.”

Heather heard Malcolm’s footsteps on the staircase and hurriedly hid the periodical under her chair. This spiteful piece was the last thing he needed to see before his recording session and the Watford concert that evening.

“You’re up early, darling,” he remarked as he planted a kiss on the top of her blonde head. “Have another cup of tea and keep me company while I eat.”

Malcolm poured some strong tea into her cup, but she knew she would not be able to take a sip of it.

Malcolm glanced perfunctorily through his post.

“No sign of the Gramophone?” he asked casually.

“Perhaps it’ll come by the second post.” Heather tried to sound light and cheerful, willing her warring stomach to settle down. She bent down and somehow managed to hide the offending periodical under her red dressing gown, before fleeing from the table. Just in time she managed to reach the privacy of the bathroom before nausea overwhelmed her completely. Malcolm would have to wait until tomorrow before he faced some unpleasant reading.

-0-

It was March 1951 and Malcolm Craig’s recording contract was due for renewal. The ritual was always the same. Each year, for the last twenty years, Frank Downey, the managing director of the famous BRG recording studio in Wigmore Street, would arrive before the session and invite Malcolm into his office to sign the new contract when he had finished his work. The business concluded, Downey would offer him a tot of his excellent single malt whisky.

“How are you, Malcolm?” Frank Downey greeted Malcolm Craig effusively. “Would you mind calling into my office after your recording session? I have some business to discuss with you.”

Malcolm Craig recorded the eight selected songs in less than three hours. He was an excellent sight-reader, so all he needed was a brief run through with the eminent accompanist, George Manning, before he was ready to lay the cake on the table.

He listened to the takes with his producer and George Manning, then, satisfied with the morning’s work, made his way up to Frank Downey’s sumptuous office to find the gentleman already hovering at the door ready to greet him.

Downey ushered Malcolm to the plush leather chair facing his large oak desk. Usually the contract was lying on the desk waiting for him, a gold Schaeffer pen near at hand, ready for him to sign on the dotted line. But today the desk was bare and Malcolm speculated about the empty desk and why Downey appeared so fidgety and uncomfortable.

“Is the contract late?” Malcolm asked, trying not to show concern.

“That’s what I wanted to discuss with you, Malcolm,” Frank began. “What with the advent of the LP and changes in people’s taste since the war, your records are just not selling the way they used to.”

Downey watched Malcolm’s rugged face slowly lose its colour. He really had not reckoned on the man passing out on him.

Despite his pallor, Malcolm spoke in measured tones.

“Frank, I’ve known you too long to listen to a lot of soft soap. Are you telling me you’re not renewing my contract?”

“I’m so sorry, Malcolm. I fought against it of course, but I was outvoted.”

As though to console Malcolm, he added brightly, “You’re not the only one to suffer – we’re not renewing the contracts of many of our gifted pre-war artistes. They’re all still in good voice, but there’s no demand for them these days. I’m really sorry.”

Malcolm’s legs were trembling. Despite being nearly fifty, and one of Britain’s’ greatest and most versatile tenors, he was close to tears. He was still in the prime of his vocal life, and here he was being discharged like an indolent office boy. He was due to sing at a concert in Watford that evening. After this blow he would need all his professional expertise to carry the engagement off successfully.

He rose to his feet, willing himself to leave with dignity before he broke down.

“There’s nothing more to be said then,” he said baldly. “No doubt you’ll send any money owing to my agent.”

“Please don’t leave like this, Malcolm! Have a whisky with me for old time’s sake,” pleaded Downey.

What was there left to discuss now that he had no contract binding him to the company? The whisky would choke him. He turned on his heel and walked out of the office, and left the building without a word of farewell to anyone. He gained the privacy of his Wolseley, lit a forbidden Capstan and drew on it deeply. Concert and radio dates had been falling off a bit lately, but he and Heather relied on the steady income from his recordings to keep them in comfort. What was he to tell her?

He made his way to his comfortable home in Hampstead, aware that he would probably never drive the same route again. He wondered whether his voice, the splendid gift he had taken for granted since childhood, could be failing him. But that couldn’t be right. He had just heard the recordings he had made that very day. His voice sounded better than ever. As he edged the big car slowly up the driveway, he glimpsed Heather, in tiny pink shorts and a bright seersucker top, sunbathing on a deck chair near the rose bower.

He had met Heather in a concert party in Margate, a few years after he had signed his first record contract, a gorgeous blonde of twenty, with sea green eyes and a complexion like a ripe peach. Her stunning looks and charm excused the fact that her voice, though pretty and sweet, was merely run of the mill. She had managed to make a stage career for herself because of her looks and charming personality.

They had fallen in love, and spent every free moment together, mingling with the holidaymakers licking cornets, while their children were having special treats seated on the staid donkeys on the beach. The light-hearted atmosphere on the seafront contrasted with their seaside lodgings where they were surrounded by elderly corseted widows in the dining room and the lounge.

They were married at the end of the season and Heather was only too happy to stop attending audition calls to take on her new role as Malcolm’s dutiful and loving wife. In those heady days he was in great demand for West End musicals, oratorios, Masonic Concerts, recording and broadcasting for the BBC, Radio Luxembourg and Radio Normandy.

Malcolm’s successful singing career gave them all the luxuries of life, but their mutual desire for children remained unfulfilled. Heather had twice fallen pregnant, but had miscarried both times. They eventually accepted that they would be childless and transferred their thwarted parental instincts to their two Scotties, Whisky and Soda.

Malcolm emerged from his reverie and watched Heather as she lounged, half-asleep in the sun without a care in the world. The two dogs had been cavorting around the garden, always with half an eye on their beloved mistress, but now they bounded in his direction to greet him with an effusion he found difficult to reciprocate that day.

-0-

Heather had kept her appointment with her gynaecologist. Dr Urquhart, an elderly Scot, did a thorough unhurried examination to which Heather submitted with stoicism. She had been through such inspections before to no avail. At the age of forty she had not held out very great optimism that she could have a child at such an advanced stage of life.

“I can safely say your pregnancy is going smoothly, Mrs Craig,” he said with a rare smile. “You’ll have to take things easy for you are not young as far as child-bearing is concerned and you have had two problem pregnancies before, but if you look after yourself I see no reason why you shouldn’t carry this infant to full term.”

-0-

“Darling!”

Heather had seen Malcolm’s car at last and hurried to him, eager to kiss him and tell him her glad news right away, but her elation evaporated at the sight of his haggard face.

“Did you sign your new contract?” she asked uncertainly, knowing before he spoke that all was far from well.

“There is no new contract,” Malcolm murmured under his breath. “I’m finished at BRG. I’m sorry, darling.”

Heather took his hand in hers, hurt to see her usually cheerful uncomplicated husband so downcast.

“It doesn’t make sense. You’ve never sounded better. Did Frank give you an explanation? There must be a mistake.”

“They’re getting rid of a lot of us pre-war singers because public tastes have changed. The British public prefers crooners these days. I fear my days as a singer are numbered.”

“Nonsense! As soon as other companies hear you’re free they’ll jump at you,” said Heather hopefully.

“I don’t think so,” replied Malcolm dejectedly. “I’m getting an old man.”

“Rubbish!” she said. “You’re not even fifty. You have years ahead of you as a singer.”

“I’m too upset to talk about it. I still have to get through that concert in Watford tonight, though I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to do so.”

Her heart went out to him in his misery. She decided to postpone her news until after the concert. The copy of the Gramophone was under her side of the mattress. It would be a while before she would produce it. He didn’t need another knock for a while.

Malcolm bathed and changed, then sat on his favourite chair in the drawing room, absentmindedly stroking one of the Scotties, idly regarding the Spanish cabinet, the Chappell grand piano, the Wilton carpets, and the fine antiques, all the beautiful possessions he and Heather had acquired from the money he had earned over the years. How could they afford to go on living like this now his career was on the wane?

He was surprised to see Heather emerge in her low-cut red evening gown – always his favourite – with the diamond necklace he had given her for her last birthday gleaming at her throat.

“‘You take my breath away Heather,” he remarked with a gentle smile. “I didn’t know you were going out this evening.”

“I’m going out with you to your concert,” she replied. “It’s a long time since I heard you singing in public. You‘re still the greatest tenor in Britain whether you have that contract or not.”

He knew she was being kind but he was comforted by her presence on the trip to Watford. The concert was sold out, and a group of ardent fans was waiting for him at the stage door of The Playhouse.

Thousands admired his voice, but this small coterie of fans bought all his records, collected his press cuttings, and travelled to all his concerts up and down the UK if they had money to spare. Over the years, he had developed a personal relationship with them and he and Heather sent them Christmas cards, and sometimes complimentary tickets for one or other of his appearances.

Singing had certainly given him an insight into vagaries of human nature he would never have experienced had he been voiceless and working in the family butchery alongside his two older brothers.

Heather watched him brace his shoulders to face his fans with good grace. Although it was the last thing she felt like doing, she smiled as she wafted quickly through the crowd, knowing it was Malcolm they really wanted to talk to.

“Hello, Geraldine. Don’t tell me you’ve come all the way from Manchester just for tonight. David and Veronica – lovely to see you again.”

Malcolm was always genuinely pleased to greet his loyal fans. Tonight especially it cheered him to see their friendly faces glowing with pleasure at his kind words.

“We couldn’t believe that review in the Gramophone,” said Veronica. “I’ve already written to the editor to say that it was a disgraceful criticism. The reviewer ought to offer you an apology.”

“The review? You mean the review of my LP record?”

For the second time that day, Malcolm’s face lost all its colour.

“Was it very bad?” he asked in a small voice.

“Quite uncalled for,” said David, as the others nodded their agreement. “But don’t you worry, Malcolm. We think you’re still the greatest tenor in the world – never mind just in Britain. We’ll all be buying your LP.”

Malcolm tried to smile.

“I hope you enjoy the concert. I’ll probably see you all afterwards. God bless you for being here tonight.”

He went to the Green Room to warm up with George Manning, who had played for him at BRG earlier that day, and had booked him for tonight’s concert.

“I’m so sorry about the contract, Malcolm,” George said. “Frank was distressed when you left so suddenly.”

“Not half as distressed as me!” replied Malcolm dryly.

He caught a glimpse of his beloved Heather sitting in the prompt corner and raised his hand to her. Even without the record contract and news of the bad notice in the Gramophone, he was still the luckiest man alive to have such a beautiful and loving wife. As he walked onto the stage, the audience rose to cheer him before he had even sung a note. He was engulfed in the warmth of their sincere affection.

He raised his hand and immediately they sat down, waiting in silence for the recital to begin. George began playing the opening bars of Schubert’s To Music. Malcolm’s earlier ordeal had put him on his mettle. He sang better than he had ever done before. They were stamping for him at the end and he sang several encores, finishing with I leave my heart in an English Garden from Dear Miss Phoebe by Harry Parr-Davies. The show had opened at the Phoenix Theatre the year before and was still running.

Although his mood had lifted, he dreaded the mayoral reception, but it was in his honour so it would be bad manners to disappoint the guests and go straight home as he longed to do.

When he and Heather entered the reception, the guests applauded, although most of them were not music lovers, but the well-heeled influential great and good of Watford. To Malcolm’s surprise, he saw George, already settled with his whisky and soda, chatting easily to Frank and Lucille Downey. He thought he had seen the last of Frank for a long time and he certainly didn’t want any more of him now, but Frank was bounding towards him relentlessly.

“I’ve never heard you sing better,” he told Malcolm effusively.

“So why is my contract not being renewed?” enquired Malcolm.

“We may still be able to offer you a bit of work on an ad hoc basis here and there, with all the music we’ll be putting on to the LP format. That’s what I had wanted to tell you before you rushed off this morning. After all, aren’t you one of the most versatile tenors in Britain today?”

Frank Downey was relieved to see that Malcolm was slightly mollified by his remark, although he said nothing.

Heather and Malcolm left the party early. He longed to shut out the world of fans, admirers, detractors, and record producers, without giving a thought to singing. He wanted to relax with Heather in his arms.

When they were in bed, Heather said, “I have some news, but it might not be as welcome as I thought it would be when I saw Dr Urquhart.”

“You’re not ill?”

Malcolm realised that the cancelled record contract was nothing in the scheme of things compared with his darling Heather being in poor health. Now that he looked at her properly, she did look rather pale and drawn.

“I’m pregnant, darling. I have been for a few months but I thought I was starting the menopause early so I didn’t say anything until I saw Dr Urquhart today. He seems to think I’m over the danger period, but I’ll have to take things very easy for the rest of my pregnancy.”

Malcolm took Heather gently in his arms and kissed her, all thoughts of the lost record contract and the bad review forgotten.

“I’ll make sure you take things easy, darling,” he said. “The contract pales into insignificance when I think of holding our baby in my arms at last.”

It had been a funny old day with highs and lows as wide as his extraordinary singing range. He was glad it had ended on a high, he thought, as he lay close to Heather.

Towards the end of 1951, he signed a lucrative record contract with Mellotone Records. A week later Heather gave birth to their adorable little boy.

Fiona Compton. Updated 8 September 2021.