As a D'Oyly Carte singer I heard many stories about the characters who made up the D'Oyly Carte Opera Company through it's many and varied incarnations over the century and a quarter since it's beginnings. Everyone who experienced the life of the Carte had stories to tell and this page is the beginning, hopefully of a forum for others to post their experiences on the web for the delight and entertainment of the millions of fans worldwide who vicariously experience that miraculous world now gone forever.
I'm sure, like Chinese whispers, many tales get altered in the telling over the years but I will tell them as they were told to me and no doubt there will be many people who will be only too happy to correct me - er - or at least give me the version they know or show me the printed editions care of biographies or other extant material.
Darrell Fancourt.
In conversation one day the subject of Darrell Fancourt arose and Jimmy Marsland, who knew Darrell well, told this bit of useless information. He said that towards the end of his career with the Carte Darrell was very ill, needing oxygen tanks in the wings and someone to help him get from dressing room to the stage, but once on the stage he found all the energy he needed to perform, until he exited whereupon he would need to be helped back to the dressing room. Extraordinary.
Donald Adams
Fancourt had a wonderfully long and successful career bringing to his roles performances which set the standard for his successors, notably Donald Adams, the giant of my experience in the Carte who took over from him. This larger-than-life performer was a gentleman on and off the stage and when he left the company he formed, with Tom Round and Norman Meadmore, G&S For All in which they performed concerts of G&S favourites all over the world. Donald used to introduce his items with stories from his D'Oyly Days, so anything I write here is likely to be well known so my apologies if in the retelling I don't tell it exactly as you heard it. The story I remember Donald telling was of the occasion once when the Carte was doing their long London Season and he used to travel in to London by train. On this evening the train came to a halt three miles outside of Paddington and stayed there for many minutes. Donald was beginning to get a little perturbed as the show they were doing that night was The Mikado and, though he didn't make his entrance until the second act he did not want to be late. It was in the days before mobile phones and he had no way of letting the company know what had happened. In fact there had been an electical fault on the track causing the delay but nobody in charge seemed to know this. One of the passengers in Donald's compartment began to complain rather loudly that she was worried that she was going to be late as she was on her way to the theatre to see The Mikado. Donald said to her, "Don't worry Madam, I am the Mikdo!" which seemed to placate her somewhat. In the event I think he managed to get to the show just as the curtain was going up. I pity the poor old understudy who had probably been psyching himself up to go on for the great Donald Adams, and then to have his chance snatched away at the last minute. C'est toujours la vie!
Death in the afternoon.
It was around 1973/4 and we had just finished a mattinee of The Mikado at Wimbledon Theatre. The principals had all been told to stay on stage as there was to be a photo session between shows. I went up to the dressing room and got changed.
When I came down again I saw Julia Goss standing by the door to the stage, obviously a bit perturbed. When I asked her what was the problem she said that someone had been found dead in the Dress Circle and they were having to wait until the coroner had been. I think they had to abandon the photo shoot as the coroner took a long time to arrive and they had to manhandle the corpse over the seats to get him out of the theatre. This was not easy as rigor mortis had begun to set in. However, we heard later that the woman sitting next to the man had heard him give a deep sigh and then he didn't move again. Luckily for her this happened near the end of the show and she was able to report it to an usherette. Apparently the deceased was carrying in his inside pocket a sheaf of Shares and banknotes worth several thousand pounds. Obviously nobody had told him you can't take it with you, though it looks as though he tried.
The Great P3.
In 1971 The Carte decided it was time to make a new production of The Sorcerer as it had not been performed by them since 1939. The costumes and sets had been destroyed in the Blitz and Sir Osbert Lancaster was employed to design new ones. The then director of productions, Michael Heyland, was entrusted with the creation of the new production.
The sets and costumes, being created and made by professional experts were wonderfully whimsical but the production got to a very ponderous start in the hands of a very inexperienced director. Michael was at least determined to have a go but was, I feel out of his depth. He had plotted his production in a notebook giving us all code names and referring to all the entrances and exits in a similar code. Therefore T's 1, 2 and 3 enter U/S/L would have meant Tenors 1, 2 and 3 enter Up Stage Left. In his notes it worked well enough but in practice it was a disaster and caused much confusion. Of course, this was not allowed to go unremarked by the wags in the chorus who interpreted Michael's role of director as third in line to Bert Newby and Jimmy Marsland. Bert became P (Producer) 1, Jimmy P2 and Michael P3. Of the three Michael's was the one that stuck and he was known affectionately (?) as P3 for years. Luckily for the production Virginia Mason, the choreographer was on hand for several of the key rehearsals and she virtually took over, translating Michael's production notes and altering moves and entrances to make them fit. Through her vision and energy Michael's production took shape and was very successful.
Michael Heyland was and is a charming man with the gift of the gab. If he didn't know something he could blarney around it until you believed he did. However it sometimes was very apparent when he was telling a story and this could be a bit wearing from time to time. There was one occasion at Sadler's Wells between shows one Wednesday when Michael, Gareth Jones and myself had had a meal and were checking our parking meters to see if we needed to feed them. (Not that we ever did as it would contravene the bylaws!) I had just checked mine when Michael said he had a friend who carried with him in his boot a pipe cutter which he would attach to the parking meter post and simply walk around it until the head was removed. This then was put in the boot with the cutter and so he wouldn't have to pay for the parking. I was so exasperated by this transparent baloney I said, "Oh - Ballcocks Michael!" (or something like ballcocks!) to which there was no reply and we all walked back to the theatre in silence. Gareth has great pleasure in telling this tale!
Alan Styler.
I met Alan Styler only once. He was introduced to me by Glynn Adams in a pub near the Opera House in Manchester. Alan's immediate response was to tell me a joke, a very non-PC joke which I couldn't possibly tell here, concerning fifty Pakistani illegal immigrants trying to get into Britain by floating up the Thames disguised as an oil slick! This was typical of Alan who always had a smile and a laugh for everyone. He was held in high esteem by all those who knew him until his untimely death by cancer. Alan was diagnosed with testicular cancer which resulted in the removal of the diseased tissue. On the occasion of his retiring from the company a benefit concert was held for him which he MC'd causing gails of laughter throughout the evening. As he was introducing one of the numbers he happened to remark that he had spotted several faces in the audience he had known from his time in the Carte. He asked for the house lights to be switched on and then asked for all the ex-Carters to stand. Nearly two thirds of the audience arose, such was the high regard held for Alan. They all wanted to pay him respect. At the end of the show Alan made a speech referring to the well-known fact that it was testicular cancer which had caused him to retire. He said, in words something like this, "I have been with the D'Oyly Carte for 21 years and I can honestly say - I've had a Ball!". The house erupted!
Accidents can, and do, happen.
The stories of accidents on and off stage are numerous - understandably so considering the opportunity for them to happen. The Carte was a company of anything up to forty people in costumes, some of which needed a lot of handling, with props which sometimes went astray all trying to keep their time and place on stage resulting in a seamless and perfect performance - or so it would seem. Unfortunately in such a scenario 'Sod's Law' invariably results where 'if it can happen - it will!'
John Ayldon told me shortly after he joined he was in the chorus of Yeomen Of The Guard. The halberds carried by the Yeomen are quite solid and heavy, needing positive handling, and to be carried at the correct angle if success on the stage is to be achieved. John was to walk across the stage, up the ramp at the back and exit stage left. Simple! As he was exiting the point of his halberd went though the set above the arch resulting in an untidy yanking and pulling before he could complete the exit. Audience giggles!
Yeomen was also responsible for many ad-lib comments from the choristers playing the 'rabble' led by Jon Ellison and Howerd Williamson. Elli had a wondeful way of repeating lines under cover of the general hubub, but his voice was so distinctive he was often heard over the rest.
After Wilfred Shadbolt makes his exit to the line, "......to trifle with the delicate organisation of the human interior!" the rabble rush on noisily and out of the row we could always hear Elli's mellifluous tones shouting, "Human Interior, Human Interior!" If you listen closely to this scene in the Carte recording of Yeomen made in 1967 (?) you will hear these very words faintly clawing their way through the chorus sound.
Another Yeoman tale had Brian Peach in the starring role. While we were playing Southampton once he told us his Uncle was coming to see him on stage for the first time. As all the Yeomen Warders look alike with wigs, beards, moustaches, hats and ruffs to cover any identity we wondered how Brian's uncle would be able to tell him from the rest.
Brian said he'd told hid uncle to listen for the cue as Fairfax and the Guards sing, ".....could not be exaggerated, Scarce a word of them is true!" just before Phoebe comes forward, at which point Brian would shake his halberd as if rejoicing with Fairfax. At said cue, of course, every halberd on stage began to shake, accompanied by Brian's muffled growls of, "Bastards! Bastards!"
Brian is a Hampshire man though he claims he comes from Dorset before the boudaries were altered. As a southern chap, and proud of it, his preferred tipple was always cider so when we played Torquay he was always in his element as Devon produced lots of the stuff. Some of our caravan tourers had parked on a farm outside Torquay which produced, among other things, a rather piquant rough cider with a petroleum aftertaste. John Broad, never one to miss an opportunity brought into the dressing room a gallon of this highly inflammabe liquid, a rather dubious decision considering the nature of the product and of the male chorus. John did however impress upon us the caveat that we limit ourselves to half a cup as it tended to be a bit strong. Our cider expert of course knew he was a step ahead of the rest of us and said that as it was his only drink he was used to it and proceded to drink a cup and a half of the murky stuff. The show we were doing that day was Iolanthe and this took place before the Peers entrance in the matinee performance. Came the moment to enter. The Peers were all lined up and proceded on their imperious way in the well-loved and stately procession around the stage to the rousing ending when we formed two lines down both sides of the stage. Tolloller enters and says, "And now, My Lords, to the business of the day!" when I heard a whisper from Bill Palmerley on my right. "Look at Peachy! I looked opposite me to see Brian, in perfect Peers pose, eyes glazed, leaning against the set with a broad smile on his face. As most of the other tenors were silently howling with laughter I thought it not very polite to be the odd man out so joined in. Brian was OK while propped against the set, but then came our cue to exit with another march around the stage and a pompous exit. This was when Brian discovered he didn't know how to walk. He was pulled and pushed into position, giggling, until he fell off stage in a laughing fit. It had been a close call but to this day I'm not sure if the audience were unaware that the staggering Peer was not part of the production.
The costumes in Iolanthe were copies of the real thing and the cloaks were the genuine article, wonderful to look at but sometimes difficult to manage. At times things had a habit of getting in the way, like the swords we had to wear.
A similar event took place in Patience when the Dragoon Guards made their entrance bringing a splendid splash of red and gold wheeling around the stage. It was always a bit frought in the wings as all the chaps tried to get in line ready to enter and small wonder on the odd occasion somebody would get his spurs locked. I saw this happen to one of the Baritones causing all the following Guards to veer around him while he sorted himself out. It was not very funny to the chap involved but hilarious for the rest as we all felt, "Thank God it wasn't me!"
Back to Yeomen again. I remember a certain amount of hilarity during act 1 finale just before the chorus sings, "The prisoner comes, to meet his doom." In the rather mournful music a bell is rung offstage and this is entrusted to the assistant Musical Director, on this occasion Peter Murray. At the moment when everyone was expecting to hear the bell all we heard was a muffled 'clonk' - Peter had looked up to the TV monitor for his cue and missed the bell. I suppose it was funny because it happened at a moment when nobody dared laugh but for a time Peter was named Chief Bell Misser after that.
The best Upstaging I have ever seen.
Picture a sombre scene as the crowds gather in silence for a beheading. The Lieutenant of the Tower orders the guards to fetch Fairfax to 'meet his doom' and the Headsman, preceded by two men bringing the block enters. The block having been set in place, the headsman swings the axe high, in time with the music and brings it down to stick in the block with a resounding thump. On this occasion the headsman, a big butch chap, brought down the axe - and missed the block. Luckily he did not hit anything else but quick as a flash he rested the axe on the block, put his hands to his lips and said, "Ooh!" A Spencerian moment - A Frank Spencerian moment! Poor Elsie who had to sing the next number saw this and bless her heart she managed to get through her song without joining in with the silent laughter around her.
There were lots of funny happenings in Ruddigore too. Those picture frames in the gallery were just waiting for somebody to fall through, trip over or get stuck in them. I saw both Howerd Williamson and Adrian Lawson come to grief in those frames - not at the same time but in the same way. After we had finished the scene we had to back into the frames, negotiate two steps up and all in long costumes. Howerd and Adrian, at different times played the Cardinal in a long red robe and as they tried to negotiate the steps backward they ended up walking up the robe making them get smaller and smaller as they tried to exit. If this was not hysterical enough I saw John Webley make a late entrance for this scene. His picture was downstage left and he was an Elizabethan gentleman. As we stepped through onto the stage Webbers was not in sight. Suddenly from the wings we heard hurried footsteps followed by John darting through the picture. His momentum was increased as he ran down the two steps and he ended up in the centre of the stage. He looked around rather sheepishly, began to laugh and scuttled back into place leaving the rest of us convulsed.
Howard Williamson also was the victim of a practical joke shortly after he joined the company. In the second act of The Miksdo, after Koko and Katisha sing 'The Beauty Of The Bellow And The Blast' the chorus enter quickly. Howard was first on and wasn't sure of the cue so Glynn Adams said he would prompt him. Howard heard the prompt and ran on into position, only to be confronted by John Reed and Christine Palmer as they began the second verse. Howard stood petrified all the way through while Christine and John danced around him much to the delight of the audience.
This brings to mind a story of Howard playing Koko but not with the Carte so I hope you will forbear. It was a performance given by the World Of Gilbert And Sullivan, the company formed by Norman Meadmore and his sons after he split from Tom Round and Donald Adams. I was playing Nanki Poo, Jean Allister was Katisha, Jane Fyffe was Yum Yum and Richard Howarth, who later married Pauline Wales, was Pooh Bah. All went well until the scene between Koko and Katisha when he ardently declares his love for her. Her response is to throw Koko across the stage and advance on him with harmful intent to which he responds, "Shrink not from me!" This is usually very funny but here it was compounded by Koko's wig having come off in the throw. Katisha turned upstage heaving with laughter at the sight of Koko in Pin Curls while Koko tried to say the rest of his long and involved speech without smiling. He failed! During this speech he did manage to kick the wig upstage where it stayed until the dance in The Beauty Of The Bellow And The Blast when it got swept up in Katisha's train only to be dumped in the centre of the stage again at the end of the dance, just in time for the Mikado to enter and stop with the wig at his feet. When Katisha is then confronted by a married Nanki Poo and his bride she rounds on Koko as if to hurt him, only to be stopped by the Mikado who then introduced a piece of inspired business as he said, " Yes, you deserve an explanation, but I think he will give it better whole," he then paused, looked down at the wig, and continued, "than in pieces!"
Thinking of wigs bring to mind a story from my own experience. In my early days with the Carte I played an old codger in the jury, I think he was supposed to be an undertaker as he wore black and his wig was a shabby grey with a receding hairline. We were playing the Alexandra Theatre in Birmingham where the dressing rooms are up four flights of stairs at the top of the bulding. I was made up and costumed when we got the Overture and Beginners call. I looked for my wig, which I always put on last as it was so hot to wear. There was no wig. I looked everywhere and nobody could help as they were all going to the stage. I ran to the wig department two floors down but Hazel Catmul, the wig mistress assured me she has put it out. We went back to the room where she found it underneath a pile of shirts put there ready for the Pinafore we did after Trial. I grabbed it, jammed it on and ran. I got to the last flight when I missed my footing and slid on my backside all the way down followed closely by my wig which had come off in the fall. It was a hair-raising experience!!! Again I jammed the wig on and ran to the wings in time to see the gents singing the opening bars of Hark The Hour Of Ten Is Sounding. Jimmy Marsland came and told me to sidle into place when they all came back to the box which is what I did. A little later the Defendant enters and addresses the jury but we had to duck down in the box and out of sight of the audience. It was then that Mike McKenzie told me my hair was showing under my wig. Normally this would have been acceptable but this wig was one of the old linen based ones which came down over the forhead almost to the eyebrows and my hair was sticking out making me look as though I had tufts of hair growing at right angles to my forhead. With a few hearty curses I adjusted the wig properly and was delighted to get rid of the thing when I took over the role of Defendant.
Talking of that jury box, many practical jokes happened while our heads were down and out of sight of the audience. Woe betide the newcomer who had to endure some of the childish things that happened there. Childish? Distasteful? Silly? In doubtful taste? Yes, all of these. Without being too specific let me just say some of these jokes were aimed at making the target leap into view or have to endure frightful odours until he was able to stand up. yes, typical 'Lads' behaviour, but very, very funny - at the time!
The last night of the London season was a pot-pourri of acts, overtures, costumes and business with a good deal of ad libbing by the principals which everyone enjoyed, audience, cast and management alike. At one time the ad-libbing was becoming too much so the shows had to be scripted with severe restrictions on extra business, especially from the chorus, but it still managed to work beautifully.
One year we did the first act of Pinafore in which the band of the Royal Marines preceded Sir Joseph and his sisters, cousins and aunts with a rousing version of Life On The Ocean Wave. It was conducted by a very smart military man called Royston Nash who took over the baton for the Carte when James Walker left the company. After all, he did do a good audition. In the same show the Boatswain has a contretemps with Dick Deadeye and calls on the sailors to "...sing him a song Sir Joseph has written for us." leading into A British Tar Is A Soaring Soul. On this occasion he said, "Let us sing for him a song Sir Arthur has composed for us." At this we all took from our shirts copies of The Lost Chord (arranged by Peter Murray) which was rapturously received by the audience, as was the encore! Funny things not in the script also happened from time to time. In Pinafore, again during the London seaon, at Sadlers Wells where the orchestra pit is very deep, we had reached the moment when the Boatswain steps forward and sings For He Is An Englishman. During this he makes gesticulations to denote the nationalities he is singing about. "For he might have been a Rooshian, A French or Turk or Prooshian, or perhaps I-talian!" at which he mimed cranking a barrel organ while offering his hat to the audience for a collection. At this point a shower of old pennies (the big ones) was thrown from the pit onto the stage where they jingled all over the set to the delight of audience and sailors alike. The money was by courtesy of the percussion section, itself a source of wonder. I suppose that is why the coins were no longer legal tender!
Another Pinafore memory cames from a performance at the Opera House Blackpool. This lovely theatre has all of it's dressing rooms three floors above the stage level. The lift is the best option as the stairs would knacker you before the end of Act 1. So everyone was aware of the time it took to reach the stage and quick changes were made at the back of the stage. Some changes were not that quick and there was usually time to get to the dressing room and back to affect these.
The evening progressed well until after Carefully On Tiptoe Stealing when the captain should enter and confront Josephine and Ralph - only he didn't. Being on edge about making his change for his final scene Tom had forgotten this scene and gone to his dressing room where he heard some familiar music coming over the Tannoy. He realised he could do nothing about it as the conductor was tearing his hair out mouthing. "Where's the Captain?" The audience were treated to the chum chum of the string accompaniment as the Invisible Man played the scene. He should have sung, "For my excellent crew, Though foes they could thump any,
Are scarcely fit company, My daughter, for you." and the audience were amused at the response of the chorus. "Now, hark at that, do! (Hark?) Though foes we could thump any, We are scarcely fit company For a lady like you!" For the rest of that sceneJohn Ayldon stood in for Tom and became the target of Sir Joseph's tirade against the captain. Once the 'captain' had left the stage it all became right again, leaving yet another tale for the memoirs.
The next tale is one I need to tell with a lot of understanding and sympathy because it revolves around a man caught in the grip of an enormous personal problem. Eddie Tanner, as I shall call him, was a very good singer and a nice man who had a drink problem which grew worse and worse. He had been taught singing by Pavarotti's teacher in Italy but for whatever reason he had not made an important career which is the wish of anyone who tries it. I think he was having relationship problems too which drove him to the bottle. He was aware that he had this problem and tried desperately hard to kick it but nothing worked. At last he turned to the Christian experience hoping that love of his fellow man would help guide him through this bizarre world he inhabited. He would often hug tramps at railway stations and give them what little money he had in the belief that this was what Christianity demanded of him, and in so doing he hoped his good works would help him shake off the addiction. Of course it didn't and Eddie eventually began to approach members of the company for a sub on his pay for his next drink. It got so bad that whenever he appeared in the wings crowds would disappear behind pieces of the set, in the props room or across to the other side of the stage. One matinee of The Gondoliers at Wimbledon Theatre Eddie came into the chorus room, reeling from drink. We all began reading or got our heads together in earnest conversation but this did not deter Eddie. He approached Adrian Martin for a sub but Adrian reminded him that he still owed him for two other subs he'd already given him. Again Eddie tried, only to be rebuffed until, in the end, driven by drink and exasperation he stood in the centre of the room and shouted. "I love you all! But if you don't like me - you can F..k Off!" At which the dressing room erupted with laughter. Eddie left the company very soon after this and managed to get his act together somehow, getting a job in the chorus at Covent Garden where his problem was understood by several others who watched over him and helped him over the years.
FAN-tastic!.
The Carte could not have survived for as long as it did without the legions of devotees which flocked to the shows year after year. Most of these enthusiasts were content to 'adore from afar' as the majority of any band of supporters will, but there was always that small percent who's love and devotion led them to be a little more visible than the rest. A very few of these took their 'hobby' to an almost paranoid level of devotion. I can only think that some of them, as supportive and generous as they were must have had a serious imbalance in their own lives to want to fill it with characters, circumstances and situations which seemingly owed more to their imagination than any sense of reality. Of this small number of devotees the hard-core would inevitably be there at the stage door, wherever we went. It was astonishing, this need to get their regular, if not daily 'fix' of vicarious existence proved them to be extremely determined to live their dream - whatever it was! As in life generally most of the fans were kind and thoughtful and kept their distance, respectful of other people's private space but the ill-advised actions of the few brought all fans under the umbrella of suspicion. In fact the general term 'fan' became attached to that specific few tainting all by implication.
Back to the 'Fans'! From what I have seen of these doggedly determined people with other companies I think the Carte's fans were in the main very well behaved, a bit dotty sometimes, but usually nothing to worry about. Unlike these incredible creatures who follow The Phantom Of The Opera. There would always be a small group of devotees at the stage door and they became a little club among themselves, taking on the roles of Phantom and Christine etc. Two of them, very young and silly even changed their names by Deed Poll to Eric Phantom and Christine Daie. Then parts of the Phantom's make-up and costumes began to go missing and it was generally assumed that these fans had somehow got entry to the dressing room area and had pilfered what they could find. Knowing the fan network across the world I wouldn't be surprised if these items fetched good prices among collectors via the internet. I don't remember anyone from the Carte being targeted like this except for one story which was told to me by John Reed himself.
Well Known, Half -Remembered and Apochryfal
Darrell Fancourt as The Pirate King.
Darrell as Sergeant Meryll.
Darrell spent over thirty years performing his roles so it was no surprise to learn that, especially during his final years, he performed quite automatically. That is not to say he freewheeled. I am told he always gave 100% on stage, but there is the story of him in The Pirates Act 2 when the Pirate King and Ruth entered just before "Now for the pirate's lair!" and hid behind an archway centre back. The piece of scenery representing the archway had been quite frail and in use for many years 'til finally it had succumbed and had fallen down shortly after the opening of Act 2. Apparently Darrell didn't notice it had gone, or if he did he decided to do just as he always did and make believe it was there much to the amusement of the audience.
Donald Adams as The Mikado. 
Julia Goss as Casilda.
I know matinees can sometimes be a little lacklustre but Julia said she didnt think we had been that bad!
Act 2 Sorcerer with Ken Sandford, John Ayldon and Lyndsey Holland
Alan Styler as Lieutenant of the Tower.
John Ayldon as Sergeant Meryll.
Jon Ellison as The Learned Judge .
Brian Peach as himself .
Glynne Thomas informed me that on one occasion in Iolanthe the Peers were making their entrance, which proceded to the centre of the back of the stage then turned sharp left down two steps and then around the stage. At the precise moment of turning Bill Palmerley's sword decided to trip him and he fell down the steps in a heap barring the way of the Peers following. The stately procession however did not falter and as he lay there, bleeding from a cut knee, the others simply stepped over him, with a stately high step, leaving him to scramble up and find his own position by himself.
Adrian Lawson as himself .
John Reed as Sir Ruthven and Jon Ellison as Old Adam in Ruddigore.
Howard Williamson as the Learned Judge .
Myself as the old Codger wearing that blasted wig!
The infamous jury box!"
Royston Nash a military conductor.
Thomas Lawlor as Pish Tush.
Unfortunately these regular faces at the stage door could, and often did, become something of a nuisance to some members of the company as their need to get close to their idols meant a very real invasion of privacy from time to time. As we have to appreciate in this business acknowleging the 'fans' is a necessary part of good public relations but on the odd occasion too much familiarity becomes too much. I have to say that as a chorister with the Carte I was never one of the targets for Fan Affection which centred mainly on John Reed and Kenneth Sandford, though some of the gentlemen's chorus also came in for a dose of familiarity from time to time.
We were playing The Grand Theatre Wolverhampton one season in 1969 or 70 and two the the gent's chorus, who shall remain nameless to cover their embarrassment, were approached at the stage door by two rather lovely young female fans who attached themselves to said gents and accompanied them back to their caravans for the night. I have to say that this was before both of these gentlemen were attached to anyone else so this casual liaison was something of an adventure for them which lasted the week until we packed up and left for Manchester. No more was thought of this until the Thursday of the following week when someone came into the dressing room and informed the two gents of this story that their female fans from Wolverhampton were at the Stage Door. This would not have been so bad had it not been for the fact that these two Lotharios had fixed themselves up with two more fans from Manchester, who were also waiting at the stage door. Word went round the company and everyone was amused and intigued to see how this dilemma would resolve itself, much to the embarrassment of the two lads. So, it was decided that rather than face their Nemesis at close of show these two lusty young men scuttled off through the pass door and exited the theatre via the front of house leaving the four young ladies to a cold dose of reality. It also served as a warning to the two rather shame-faced lads who amended their ways, at least, it stopped them bragging about their conquests - for a while!
This was not a case of Sex, Drugs and Rock and Roll, more a variation of 'a girl in every port' though these 'ports' were too close for comfort. However I do have a story of the former though it is not strictly a tale of the Carte. We were in Bristol one summer, probably around 1970 and I was in theatrical digs. Also in the digs was a young man who had achieved a certain fame and notoriety in the '60s as a Rock and Roll star by the name of Wayne Fontana. 
There were two fans who were particularly enamoured of John Reed. These two middle-aged women were apparently bus conductors in Manchester who talked quite openly about how much they loved John. I remeber talking to them once outside the stage door at Manchester and the one told me her devotion had caused her husband to give her an ultimatum, either him or John. She left him the following day! John said that after the show one Saturday night he was going to drive back to London but as a thick fog had descended he was not sure how to get back to the motorway. These two fans said they would drive ahead of him and show him the way and off they went. They travelled for about twenty minutes and the fog if anything was getting thicker. The fans' van ahead started to flash it's warning lights and stopped. John pulled in behind them and they got out explaining that as the fog was so thick they thought it might be better to stop awhile and see if it lifted, meanwhile opening the back of the van and setting up a primus stove and began making some tea. John said he thanked them for showing him the way and was sure he knew where he was now and said he just wanted to get going. Suddenly one of the fans hurled herself at him and threw her arms around hid neck kissing him on the cheek and begging him to marry her. John managed to wrench himself away and got into his car. The fans even tried to stop him from leaving but he drove past them and sped off into the fog in great shock. These fans never reappeared. Having shot their bolt I think their embarrassment must have been acute as the fog lifted bringing them back to reality.
How international caricaturist John Robert sees me!
