Queenie Colman had joined the troupe somewhat later than the other members, when Charlie Wagstaff, the ‘character man’, had retired. Carlo had stepped partially into Charlie’s shoes. He performed monologues such as ‘Gunga Din’ and ‘The Wreck of the Hesperus’, and acted in character as a tramp,a policeman or a Chelsea pensioner. But his chief asset was his superb tenor voice. He sang solos, and also duets with Queenie. She was – or had been at one time – a vibrant mezzo-soprano. Her voice was now a little wobbly, as was her magnificent bosom. Maddy remembered how she and Jessie had hardly been able to control their giggles the first time they had seen her perform on Scarborough sands.
There were eleven acting members, including Maddy, in Morgan’s Melody Makers. But there was a twelfth non-performing member as well, too important to be overlooked, and that was Henry Morgan, Percy’s father, who was now in his early seventies. It was Henry who, years and years ago, when Percy was a very young man, had started the troupe. It had begun on Scarborough sands as Morgan’s Merry Minstrels; a group of black-faced performers, all men, which had been the custom back in the 1880s. Maddy had heard the story many times both from Henry Morgan himself and from her grandfather, Isaac Moon, who had always taken a keen interest in the troupe, of how the Negro minstrels, as they were called, had first appeared on the beaches of the English seaside resorts in the middle years of Queen Victoria’s reign. They had originated in America where the players – the Negroes – really did have black faces. On the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, however, the faces of white men were blackened with burnt cork. They sang,danced, cracked jokes and played banjos and tambourines.
This form of entertainment was to be seen on the beaches of all the popular resorts until, in the 1890s, they were superseded by the first Pierrot troupes. These were the very antithesis of the Negro minstrels. Their faces, in the early days, were whitened with zinc oxide to heighten the contrast; they dressed in ruffled white suits with black or red pompoms and conical hats, and brought with them an air of romance and refinement.
Henry Morgan, eager to move with the times, had not been slow to change the image of his troupe of players. In the early 1890s Morgan’s Merry Minstrels became Uncle Percy’s Pierrots; Percy, at that time, took over the leadership of the concert party, although his father was still an active performer. The all-male tradition had very soon been altered, as Percy’s young wife, Letitia – Letty – became involved, and in the years leading to the new century so did Nancy, Susannah, Queenie Colman and, of course, Madeleine Moon. The men, however, still outnumbered the women, as was the case in most troupes.
Henry Morgan had now taken over the administration of the group, dealing with the bookings and transport, the ‘hiring and firing’ – although there was not very much of the latter – and all the details which went to make a successful concert party. In 1903 they had taken to the road –or to the railway, to be more accurate – and became a travelling company for the autumn and winter months, from September to April. Maddy, who had been a part-time Pierrot since she was twelve, had joined them in their travels in 1905 when she was fifteen.
‘Daydreaming, are we?’ said Susannah as she came back into the bedroom. ‘Well, at least I’m pleased to see you’ve got a smile on your face now.’
‘What?’ said Maddy, coming suddenly out of her reverie. ‘Yes…yes, I suppose I was. I was thinking about the Pierrot show, how the artistes haven’t changed much at all since I joined.’
‘That’s true,’ replied Susannah. ‘It’s because we’re all very contented working for Percy and Henry. There was that conjuror fellow, of course, last winter, who thought he was too high and mighty for the likes of us. The