I closed my research on the theatrical
agent Richard Warner with his death in 1914, by writing an academic paper that was published, done and
dusted. I could not find a marriage for his daughter Miriam, and the most informative records are only released when they are 100 years old. I had originally intended to write a book on all of the Warners and
their interminable retinue of relations: actors, agents, comedians, musicians,
operatic singers, and some marvellous identities called Principal Boys in the Music Halls - we might think of them as
cross-dressers today - but that idea was shelved.
But the whole topic of Warner Brothers came alive again
after I met up with cousins in London (2C3R is the term – some of them are 3C4R
– indicating how far removed they are from the mainline of my own family tree).
Miriam lived on! Family branches tend to research their own interesting character and preserve their legend, which helps the big picture. Meeting much removed cousins has been such a joy for me....and most informative!
Miriam
Warner ( died 1958), Richard’s daughter, took on the work of theatrical agent in her
father’s firm after his untimely death in 1914. I did not know it was her life’s work, or
that she was a larger than life character loved and vilified in equal measure
in London for 50 years. Her father’s sudden death was probably related to
relentless persecution by the London Council Council who regarded him as an
enemy alien, although he had come from Bohemia as a boy and worked in London
for about 40 years. The numbers in his
life don’t add up – he was 56 when he died – but in 1913 he had been given a
public testimonial to mark his 40 years as a musical and theatrical agent. Just a year later when war broke out the LCC took away his agency license and publicly humiliated him in a
tribunal where he lost the fight for his living. I wonder if the dramatic ruin of Richard's glittering life hardened Miriam...she certainly did not care about public opinion.
A lot of theatre information is wobbly, and it’s not without
cause that the most celebrated theatre historian Macqueen-Pope has been
labelled “the wistful remembrancer” (Davis & Emeljanow, 2001). But a quick subscription to The Stage archives reveals the bones of
Miriam’s life. She was generous, kind, supportive, and as an agent she took 10% of the earnings of some off the biggest names in music and literary circles for decades. She also ran dozens of benefit concerts throughout both wars, supported charities, shared her life with many.
Those who have written about Miriam demonstrate the unreliability of memoir – there is no
one perspective on anyone, no single analytical truth – and Miriam has no
cohesive legacy. She challenged the values of even the most tolerant Bohemians.
In 1918 Miriam Warner gave birth to a child – the father has
never been identified – and as a single working parent she brought up her
daughter Joan, alone. Moreover, she chose 'women in trousers', and 'screaming suffragettes' as her intimates,
had liquid lunches at the pub, and she was not big on housework. A woman 100
years ahead of her time!
We need to be cautious with conclusions here, because after
The Great War (WW1) men were thin on the ground, many women were left holding
the baby when boyfriends died in the final days of the war, trousers had proved
more comfortable than hobbled skirts for many women. Keeping the baby speaks of moral
courage and resourcefulness, the confidence to provide for the child. Miriam
did not have money because Warner Brothers International had been a public
company. Richard died leaving a legacy of just a few hundred pounds for the family. Ultimately
she bought into another agency and started again with her own name on the door and a
female business partner.
Miriam’s name pops up in the memoirs of many great actors.
A single aspect of her life can be reported quite differently 20 or 30 years apart - but when one issue arises twice, it flags it as something innately Miriam. Such as, her untidiness.
Here is a nasty sample in which Sheila Hancock, wife of the late John
Thaw, paints a picture of Miriam as a subterranean creature howling around a
mouldy cavern. In the longer version, Hancock uses the word “crouching” twice
in a single paragraph, as though everyone in the office was on all fours:
“Day after day I traipsed
up and down Charing Cross Road and Shaftesbury Avenue where the agents hung
out. Only one showed the slightest interest. Miriam Warner was the doyenne of
tatty agents. She crouched in a filthy office in Cambridge Circus, her short,
fat body enshrouded in shapeless velvet garments with a slouchy hat permanently
concealing a suspected bald patch. Occasionally she waddled to the outer office
and berated her staff and the waiting assembly for bleeding her dry……Miriam
sent me along to auditions known as the cattle markets…” (Sheila Hancock in The Two of Us, My life with
John Thaw, 2004)
It's odd that Sheila had gone to Miriam for help - representation to get her work - and ultimately Sheila took her advice. I suppose Miriam's appearance just offended her.
Contrast this with Naomi Jacob (known to her friends as
Mickie) who wrote 50 years earlier! Mickey was a radio personality and author of more than 40 books. She introduces
Miriam Warner as “the daughter of one of the greatest agents who ever lived and
herself following in her father’s footsteps,”
(Me looking book, 1950). Naomi Jacob’s name was oncea household word because
she lived on the edge, where only entertainment personalities may exercise reckless abandon.
She was a friend and supporter of Radclyffe Hall, the author of the classic lesbian novel The Well of Loneliness. Hall, who was called John by her friends,
described a problem that Jacobs called “female inversion” Both Naomi Jacob and
Radclyffe Hall identified with inversion, but discussion of sexuality and
gender could not go much beyond labelling it. Noami’s biographers analysed her
in the stereotypical Freudian way: failed mothering.
But returning to Miriam’s cavernous existence in London’s
West End, here is what Naomi Jacob had to say about it – and she spent a lot of
time there and in the Marquis of Granby pub next door.
“I doubt there is another
office in London more untidy than Miriam’s, and I am certain that there is no
office where you meet with a warmer welcome and find a more friendly
atmosphere.
Her kindnesses to me
have been without limit; her letters have never failed to come to me regularly,
even during the war when I was overseas. Her loyalty is unshakeable. (Me, yesterday and today, 1946)
Every reputation rests on who you talk to. It’s a sobering
responsibility, knowing which versions
have the greatest weight.
Davis, J., & Emeljanow, V. (2001). ‘Wistful Remembrancer’: the
Historiographical Problem of Macqueen-Popery. New Theatre Quarterly, 17(04), 299-309.
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