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DRACULA’S LAST HURRAH

Part 2

By Frank J. Dello Stritto & Andi Brooks

{The interviews transcribed below were conducted by the authors in preparing their book, Vampire Over London – Bela Lugosi in Britain, which Cult Movies Press is now proud to offer.}

Part 1 of this article describes our project to document the full story of Bela Lugosi’s last stage tour of Dracula in Britain in 1951.  We quickly realized that the fable of Lugosi in 1951—that after clumsy delays, Dracula opened, flopped and closed, that Lugosi was never paid—was simply not true.  In fact, the tour lasted six months, and received generally fine reviews. 

We set out to locate and interview the surviving members of the cast and crew.  Three of them, Richard Butler and John Martin (who both played Jonathan Harker) and Eric Lindsay (Renfield) were in 1996 still working performers.  Andi located them through Actor’s Equity, and his interviews with them are transcribed in Part 1.

Our next goal was to find the women involved in the production, particularly Sheila Wynn, who played Lucy Seward through the entire 1951 Dracula tour.  She proved very difficult to locate.  We knew only that she was 21 years old in 1951 and came from the Hampstead borough of London.  We found no acting credits for her after 1951.  An extensive letter writing and telephone campaign finally succeeded on July 30, 1998, when Frank interviewed Sheila Wynn, now Sheila Eyre, in her home south of London.

Sheila’s earliest memories are dreams of becoming an actress.  Her father was a colonel in the British army, and as a child Sheila lived at his postings in India and Palestine.  Her first professional acting job, at age 13 as Sheila Smith, was in a London stage revival of Peter Pan, starring Glynnis Johns.   Sheila played an ostrich and a wolf, and one of the band of “Red Indians.”  Her lines were mostly war dance chants.  She made between £3 and £4 per week.  Roles in provincial productions, and work as a movie extra followed.   She honed her acting skills as a leading lady in repertory in Wales, until she signed an exclusive contract with the Lee Ephraim agency.  Betty Farmar, Ephraim’s partner, placed her in two tours in Queen Elizabeth Slept Here—the second in Germany, entertaining postwar occupation forces.  She returned to Britain hoping for good roles in better quality productions.

Frank Dello Stritto: How did you get the role in Dracula?

Sheila Eyre: My agent told me of the auditions.  The announced plans were for a tour, followed by an engagement in a West End theatre.  When I arrived, about a dozen actresses were in the parlour, waiting to read for “Lucy.”  That kind of arrangement was typical for auditions.  Joan Winmill was one of the actresses.  She would get the other female part in the play (Wells, the housemaid).  I did my reading, and as I was leaving, John Mather, one of the backers, stopped me at the door, and offered me the part.

FDS: Do you remember your salary?

SE:   They offered £12 per week—that’s exactly what I had received on my last job.  I was hoping for more, since this was a lead role.  I phoned Betty Farmar, and was told the producers would definitely not pay more.  So, I accepted.

FDS: Were you paid every week?

SE:    Oh, yes.  Of course.  That’s easy to remember, because there’s a kind of ritual called “the ghost walks.”   On payday every week, we’d all go into the manager’s office, one-by-one.  This would be an office that the theatre let the tour managers use.  We’d sign for our pay and receive an envelope with cash.  We did this every week without fail.

FDS: Were you excited to be working with Bela Lugosi?

SE:    Yes and no.  I knew Bela was a movie star, but had never seen one of his movies.  I still haven’t—I have just never been into horror.  After I got the part, I found a copy of Bram Stoker’s novel in the library and read it.  I then became quite excited about playing Lucy.

FDS: Tell me about your first meeting with Bela.

SE:    That was at the first day of rehearsals.  Rehearsals began about 10 days after the audition, and Bela was there from the start.  I have only vague memories of any welcoming party for him.  I certainly did not meet him until the first rehearsal.  They were held in a hotel lounge or perhaps a block of flats in South Keningston, and ran for the usual two weeks or so.  He came in with Lillian.  He was tall, with sunglasses and a big cigar—just like Churchill’s, I thought.   Bela often wore dark glasses.  He did not look particularly well—pale and tired, and he looked that way through the whole tour. At lunch on that first day, Bela and Lillian went into the hotel restaurant.  I wanted to go also, but I thought that they wanted to be alone and that they might ask me to join them only out of courtesy.  So, I went with most of the others to a local coffee bar.

FDS: Did the Lugosis socialize much with the rest of the cast?

SE:    No, they kept to themselves.  They were never seen except at the actual rehearsals or later at the theatre.  A joke among the company was that whenever someone asked “Where’s Bela?”, the reply was “He’s gone to his earthbox.”  That’s a line from the play.

FDS: How did you prepare for the part?

SE:    John Mather—he was the producer, a tall man, with a round face—wanted me to wear pale makeup, hallow my cheeks and put bags under my eyes.  He also wanted me to let my nails grow long.  I could not agree to the bags.  Eric Lindsay (who played Renfield) agreed with me.  This went on and on until dress rehearsal.  Megs Jenkins, George Routledge’s wife (Routledge was Mather’s business partner), came to my dressing room.  We discussed it, and compromised on simply the hallow cheeks.  In my last scene, “Lucy” is to be very vampish.  John Mather asked me to paint my nails bright red between scenes backstage.  Well, I thought it a lot of bother for an effect that would not be noticed more than a few rows back—I had to put on the polish, take it off afterwards, and pay for all this polish myself.  But I did do it, every performance, and learned to it very quickly—my nails had to be dry by the time I went onstage.  To this day, I still do my nails very quickly.

FDS: You had to pay for the nail polish?  How about your costumes?

SE:    I was given a choice—they would either be provided, or I’d be given an allowance.  I took the allowance, bought some material and made my own negligee.

FDS: Do you have any memories of the dress rehearsal?

SE:    That would be in Brighton was the Saturday and Sunday before the opening.  It took much of the day.  It was often stopped for comments.  That’s when I first saw Bela in full costume.  I thought he looked great.  Superb, perfect for the part.  He wore a white-greyish make-up that gave him this cadaverous look.  During the rehearsal, one of the producers rather tactlessly announced his disapproval of my negligee.  “That looks like it was cut with garden shears” was shouted out from their seats.  The theatre was almost empty, so it echoed around a bit.  I went to my dressing room and cried.  I got a box of sequins, and Lillian and I re-designed the thing, sewing them on and some gauze.  I thought it looked no better, but the producers seemed to be happy.

FDS: What was your overall impression of the production?

SE:    It was a bit tatty I suppose—done on the cheap to save money.  We thought the play itself outdated and hammy.  We agreed that on the West End, it would have been laughed out of town—no one’s fault, just that it was not a good play.  But, I remember only good houses and good reviews.  I have no recollection of rowdy or rude audiences.  There might have been some laughter here and there, but I am not sure on that.  I read what you sent me about the cast being amateurs.  That’s simply not the case.

FDS: What was it like on tour?

SE:    Actors’ digs.  They’re rooming houses that catered to actors.  They would usually be run by former actors, who knew all about actors’ daily routines and schedules.  A man and a wife usually.  Digs could usually could be had for £5 a week.  That included meals.  Digs were listed in guides, but the cast depended as much on word-of-mouth among actors as to which was the best.  Stagedoor keepers at the theatres usually had lists of digs in their town, and sometimes, we’d write ahead to them for advice.   When we played near London, I lived with parents.  They lived in Crown Cottage in Hampstead, north London.  On the road, I always roomed with Joan Winmill.  We became great friends, and we always found something to laugh about.  I really missed her when she left the tour.

FDS: Did the Lugosis stay in digs?

SE:    I’m not sure where they stayed, but I don’t think they stayed with any of us.  I think they stayed in hotels.

FDS: About your daily routine?

SE:    On Monday morning in a new town, some of the cast would go to the theatre to see it and collect any mail, then to a coffee room somewhere to chat and relax.  We did very little pub-hopping or anything like that.  On Tuesday mornings, the reviews from Monday’s opening would be in the papers.  We usually followed these—usually someone would check the papers and spread the news among the others.  I wrote my boyfriend every day.  And he wrote me from London, where he was working as an actor.  He saw Dracula several times.  He might have been at the Brighton opening, but I’m not sure.

FDS: How did you prepare for a performance.

SE:    I would be at the theatre about an hour before the curtain.  I was usually the first to arrive.  I would go through the entire script to get focussed for the performance.  All of us were responsible for our own costumes, and for putting on and taking off my own makeup.  I usually left the theatre about an hour or so after the performance.

FDS: Any special memories or anecdotes?

SE:    I remember a lot about our week in Golders Green.  It’s only a few underground stops north of Hampstead.  Well, a few days before the opening there, as I was leaving for the theatre in Lewisham, where we played the week before Golders Green, I saw in the local newspaper this silly article about me—how I was absolutely mesmerized by Bela and under his power.  It was nonsense.  Nothing of the kind ever happened.  I was very mad because it made me look like a silly girl.

{Note:  Sheila is referring to the article below, which ran in The Hampstead News & Gazette on May 10, 1951:

It Could Happen—And It Did

When attractive 21 year-old actress Sheila Wynn, of Haverstock Hill, Hampstead, was booked to play in “Dracula” with Hollywood horror star Bela Lugosi it was just another job to her.

To her family, who worried about the effect such a role might have on her mind, she said, “Don’t worry, I don’t really believe in vampires, ghosts or hypnotism or anything of that sort.  It’s a lot of nonsense.”

Then a strange thing happened.

At rehearsals she was playing the part of the girl whom Dracula attacks.

Bela Lugosi, playing the title role, came towards her.  Her head began to swim and she swayed uncertainly.  Richard Eastham, the producer, prompted her with her lines.

They just would not come.  Unknown to himself, Bela Lugosi had actually hypnotised her in the way that his vampire stage part demanded.

‘I wanted to break the spell…’

“I don’t know what happened,” she told a reporter, “It was just as if the stage disappeared and a real vampire was coming to me.  I wanted to break the spell but I couldn’t.  they told me afterwards that, after staggering about the stage aimlessly and thoroughly frightening everybody, I went ahead and gave a perfect performance.

“I’ve had nightmares about vampires since.  I’ve quite changed my views about such things since this play started.  I’ve taken out books from libraries and read up the subject.  There definitely is something queer that happens at night in some parts of the world.”

“Dracula” opens at the Golders Green Hippodrome next Monday.  “I expect that a lot of people will say that it is childish nonsense,” said Miss Wynn.  “they can if they want to.  All I know is that I used to feel that way but since what happened at the rehearsal, and since studying the subject, I am not so sure.”}

FDS: How about the week itself?

SE:    Golders Green was a bit of a homecoming.  I had played there four years before.  I was only a child then, but Bill, the stage door man, remembered me right away, and gave me this big welcome.  He remembered everyone who ever played at his theatre, and treated us all like stars.  The theatre was close to my parent’s cottage, and that’s where they saw the play.  They thought I was wonderful in it.  They thought I was wonderful in everything.  I introduced them to Bela and Lillian.  After they left, my mother said, “something odd about that couple—she’s more like his daughter than his wife.”  My old dancing teaching, Anita Foster came backstage.  “Oh, you were so good I couldn’t believe it was you.”  She meant that as a left-handed compliment.

FDS: Any backstage stories?

SE:    I tended to be a loner.  I wasn’t even aware that Lillian was holding little gatherings in Bela’s dressing room, the No. 1 dressing room.  I didn’t know that until you showed me the notes from Andi’s interview with Richard.  I think Lillian kept the women at a bit of a distance.  Maybe sometimes she was a bit bossy.  In some theatres I had my own dressing room.  Sometimes, I shared a dressing room with Joan.  When I was not on stage, I always waited in my dressing room.  I could hear the performance, and knew when to go on.  Bela sometimes waited in the wings, sometimes in his dressing room.  Lillian sometimes watched the performance from the audience, and sometimes from the wings.

FDS: Was the tour run from London?  Who was in charge on the road?

SE:    On the road, our “boss” was the business manager, Alfred Beale.  He was tall, bald, a bit doddering.  He held “treasury” every Friday morning—the “ghost walks” ritual I told you about.  Payday was Friday to coincide with paying for the digs on Saturday.  Also, train tickets for the next week’s engagement would be given out at “treasury”.  Every Sunday morning was “train call”—the company met at the train station and boarded the car with the sign “Booked Tickets for Dracula Tour.”  I don’t remember if Bela and Lillian travelled with us.  The company had men’s and women’s “skips”.  These were large wicker baskets.  On Saturday night after the last performance, we loaded our costumes in the skips.  The costumes would be laundered and folded, and the skips delivered to the theatre of the next run.  Costumes would usually be hanging in the assigned dressing rooms when we arrived for the performance on Monday.

FDS: Any anecdotes about Bela.

SE:    Oh, there’s one that I’ll always remember, because it meant a lot to me at the time.  I was always a perfectionist in my acting.  I was very much into the Stanislavski acting methods.  A few weeks into the tour, probably at Shephard’s Bush, I became dissatisfied with my performance.  I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I felt that I wasn’t doing my best.  I mentioned this to Bela.  He said, “if you come down to the theatre, we’ll work on it.”  So, we both came to the theatre early the next day, and met in Bela’s dressing room.  We went over the entire script.  Bela made a lot of suggestions.  I adopted quite a few of them, and I was very happy with the result.  One suggestion that Bela made concerned my last scene.  Lucy is becoming a vampire, and is supposed to be turning very sexy.  I did this vampish thing—running my hands up and down my body.  Bela never liked the gesture.  He didn’t say anything because he thought Richard Eastham had suggested it.  Maybe, Eastham thought Bela had suggested it.  “It’s bad form,” said Bela, “vulgar.”  I dropped it, and used something more subtle.  It worked much better.  It was very generous on his part.  He was after all the star.  After that, I had a “crush” on Bela—not a romantic crush, but I would have done anything for him.  All he ever asked was that I fill in for him when he was invited somewhere.   He was invited to events in the towns we played.  He was asked a lot to “street parties.”  Streets would be closed off for some celebration or festivities.  They were quite popular, and Bela was often invited to “open” the party by some ribbon-cutting ceremony.  He always declined these, and sent me in his place.  I’d dress a bit smartly, and take the car that had been sent for him.  Sometimes, if Joan went with me, I’d stay for the party, but sometimes not.  There were a lot of these invitations, and Bela just passed them on to me.

FDS: Any memories of your scenes with Bela.

SE:    In one scene Dracula “bites” Lucy: Bela did this in a very gentlemanly way.  He placed a light kiss on my neck, with his mouth closed—not like some leading men who tried to make a meal of it.

FDS: Did you ever smell anything on his breath—whisky, sulfur water?

SE:    Oh, heavens no, but he was always smoking his cigar.  Even when he waited in the wings, which was illegal.  A fire marshal was always in the house, and on one occasion, he told Bela to extinguish the cigar.  Bela refused, and both stood their ground.  It only ended when Bela went onstage.  We heard them onstage, but I don’t think the audience did.

FDS: Any special memories from the other cities you played.

SE:   Well, I’ll never forget Nottingham.  Our dressing rooms looked out on the dressing rooms of the variety hall around the block.  I could see George Robey suiting up for his show (Robey, then 82, was a legendary music hall performer).  On weeknights, we had only one show, and the variety hall had two.  So, one night I hurried from the theatre to catch the second show.  A young woman was trying to get everyone’s autograph, and I’ll always made time for such people.  But that night, I brushed passed her.  She seemed rather angry and upset.  I still feel a little guilty about it.

FDS: Any other incidents that stick in your mind?

SE:    During the week at the Shephard’s Bush Empire, I went into the West End to do some shopping.  The curtain was at 7:00 pm, and I would normally be at the theatre by 6:00.  Well, everything went wrong.  My bus to the theatre was caught in traffic.  Then its engine caught fire.  The nearest underground station wasn’t at all close, but I had no choice but to run to it.  I arrived at Shephard’s Bush at 6:59—I remember the time because there was a big clock right at the station.  I ran across the green to the theatre.  I lost a shoe that I never recovered.  I got to my dressing room, and Joan Winmill was already wearing Lucy’s costume for the first scene, with my makeup, including false eyelashes.  So, we hurriedly changed clothes, and I was in the wings in time for my cue, but out of breathe.

FDS: The company doesn’t seem to have socialized very much.  Was there tension among you?

SE:    Oh no.  It was just the mix of people, but we got on very well.  We did a few things together.  In Belfast, Richard, Joan and John (Saunders) and I did take a 40 mile bus trip south to the Mourne Mountains.  We went because we all knew the tune “Mountains of Mourne that lead to the sea…”  We also all went to the Festival of Britain, south of London.  But there’s wasn’t a lot of that.  On the road, Joan and I always looked forward to getting back to London, because we missed our boyfriends.  I remember, on the boat back from Belfast, we met two MPs (Members of Parliament), who invited us to “tea on the terrace” at the House of Commons.  Both of us were intrigued—this was a bit of a social coup, but we had been away from London for several weeks, and only wanted to see their boyfriends again.  So, we passed on it.

FDS: How about other members of the company?

SE:    David Dawson (Seward) and his wife were very pleasant.  He was a tall man, and had a warm personality.   He read a lot on the tour, and always complimented me when he was me reading a book.  He saw me reading D. H. Lawrence, and said “you’re the only one in this company that does serious reading.”  David lived near the Hampstead Underground station of the Northern Line, my parents were one stop away.  I think David once brought his sons to the theatre, but only once that I remember.  Ralph Wilson (the second Van Helsing) was also very nice.  Arthur Hosking (the first Van Helsing) was a rather remote person.  Richard Butler (Harker) was a quiet, serious man.  He had a distinctive bow at the curtain calls—he would stand very straight and still, and then abruptly bow his head and shoulders, more from the middle of his spine than from his waist.  John Saunders (Butterworth) developed a real crush on Joan Winmill.  She found it a bit embarrassing.  He pretty much tagged along after her during their free time.  Joan and I had boyfriends back home.  So we weren’t interested in any new romances.  But John was a very pleasant person, and he and Richard and Joan and I would sometimes do things together.  Janet Reid (the first assistant stage manager) was a sweet girl, a short, blonde Canadian girl.

FDS: What about Eric Lindsay, Renfield.

SE:    Oh, yes.  Well, I had known Eric Lindsay slightly before the tour.  He had this wild hair and enormous, rolling eyes.  He was always the amusing one, though he took his part very seriously.  He did not tolerate jokes about it.  After a performance, I asked a friend of mine what she thought.  She said “it’s a bit much.”  Eric overheard this, and whispered, “and what about her”.  He was saving his money, and didn’t go out much.  He told me sometime during the run that he had accumulated £100.  That was a lot of money in those days.  Years later we met, and Eric boasted, “I’ve go my own club, now.”  Eric took his work seriously, and could be irritable and nervous backstage, waiting for his first entrance.  When you told me about Bela’s talking to him on opening night, he may just have been trying to calm him down.

FDS: Why did Joan Winmill leave the cast?

SE:    Things were always a little tense between her and her boyfriend, but I think she left due to some illness.  I visited Joan at her flat in London when she was ill, and she asked me to call John Mather to tell him that she’d be leaving the tour due to an “incipient nervous breakdown.”  “An insistent nervous breakdown?” I said.  So, we rehearsed and I made the call.

FDS: What about her replacement, Joan Harding?

SE:    I knew Joan from earlier work together.  She was a vicar’s daughter.  We had appeared together in Queen Elizabeth Slept Here.  We got on alright, but often didn’t see eye to eye.  It had nothing to do with her, but after Joan Winmill left, I retreated a bit, became more of a loner.  Just before one of our trips out of town, my boyfriend and I had a bit of a fight, and had made up.  He was writing me every day.  Joan went to the theatre early and hid that day’s letter.  She gave it to me soon enough, but I did not appreciate the joke.  But I am basically a loner.  After Joan Winmill left, I really didn’t want to share dressing rooms with anyone.  So I asked our stage manager, Peter Whelpton, if I could have my own room thereafter.  Peter had a sarcastic streak, and handled this rather abruptly “you’ll see your dressing room assignment when it’s posted at the theatre.”  A sheet listing each actor’s dressing room was tacked up each Monday when we arrived.  The next week, I did get my own room, but for the first time I was not listed as “Sheila Wynn” but “Sheila Wynn—Leading Lady.”  I did not appreciate that.    I remember one amusing thing about John Saunders.  We were returning to London, and he realized that the train would not be stopping where he wanted to get off.  John gathered up his bags and braced himself to jump off the moving train.  We all cheered him on.  “Come on—you can do it.”  A terrible thing to do, now that I think of it.  He did jump, and got home safely.

FDS: Any other memories of Lillian?

SE:    Well, Lillian never called Bela “Bel” as quoted in newspapers.  Around us, she never called him anything but “Papa”.  They were never apart.  She was like a nanny and a nurse to him.  She impressed me as being rather plain, but very protective of Bela.  One night, Richard and I had a case of “the giggles” on stage.  I don’t think this was noticeable from the audience, but it was to those standing in the wings.  Off stage, Lillian rushed to us.  “I won’t have you kids laughing at my ‘Papa’. ”  But the giggles had nothing to with Bela.  Bela complained about not sleeping.  “I don’t sleep well,” he told me one day, “I can’t sleep.”  I was tempted to recommend that he try a little exercise—an occasional walk—instead on always staying in his hotel room, but that was not my place.  He was always a gentlemen with me, never made a pass or did anything improper.

FDS: What do you remember of the closing of the tour?

SE:    It was a typical closing notice.  It posted two weeks in advance.  I wasn’t sorry to see the tour end.  I hated touring and preferred to play around London.

FDS: Was there a farewell party?

SE:    It was held right after the last performance, in the theatre’s Green Room.  It was a simple drinks and sandwiches affair.  The cast had changed into their street clothes. I had put my costume into the skip, and of course never saw it again.

FDS: Did you stay in touch with the company members after the closing?

SE:    No, not really.  I married a year later—my fiancé was in the army, stationed in Germany.  The last time I saw Joan Winmill was when she came to see me off at the airport.  Back then we called it Heathrow Air Terminal.  While I was living in Germany, Ralph Wilson passed through in a troupe that was playing military bases.  There was a lot of that in those days.  That’s how I had met my husband.  I saw Richard Butler a few years later in Cambridge.  That’s where we lived when we came back from Germany.  He updated me on what he knew about our old friends.  He told me that Joan Winmill had given up acting to work for the Billy Graham Crusade.

After the Dracula tour ended in October 1951, Sheila waited for a part on the West End, but after a few months joined another touring production, 1066 & All That, playing to occupation troops in Germany.  Early in the tour, King George VI died (February 6, 1952), and the producers feared that a satire of British royalty would be offensive.  During the brief run she had met her future husband.  Back in London, she played the female ghost in a West End version of The Innocents, starring Flora Robson.  Her part was short, with no lines, all in haze and shadow.  She and the male ghost were not listed in the cast or in the production notes.  The two were not included in the curtain calls, as audience laughter was feared.  The play was a hit, but overall, Sheila was a bit depressed about the progress of her career.  She abandoned acting to marry, and lived in Germany until the mid-1950s.  Once back in England, she briefly returned to acting, appearing in various television and radio shows.  After her marriage ended, she worked a variety of jobs, raised her three children, and now lives in quiet retirement south of London.

As Frank was leaving after one of the sessions, he told her that she had appeared opposite Bela Lugosi’s Dracula more than any other actress, and that if she attended a movie conference the interest in her as a lost Lugosi leading lady would be immense.  A politely disinterested “Really?”  was her only reply.

*          *          *

Joan Winmill worked in the Dracula company less than three months.  After the tour returned from its swing in June 1951 to the north, where it played in Scotland and Northern Ireland, Joan left the cast.  Despite her short tenure, her infectious cheer and good humor stayed in the memories of those we interviewed, and we next concentrated on locating her.  Through the early 1950s Joan Winmill worked regularly in British film, theatre and television.  Her acting credits end around 1955.  The only other clue to finding her was the persistent story that she had “joined the Billy Graham crusade.”  The American evangelist staged a well publicized rally outside London in March 1954, which won over many converts.  Was Joan Winmill indeed one of these?  One of her last film credits was Souls in Conflict, a somewhat controversial film made by Graham’s organization. 

About the time we began to search for Joan in earnest, Billy Graham published his autobiography, a mammoth tome, which to our surprise included this passage:

“In 1954 the name of Joan Winmill was well known on the London stage, and she had a brilliant future ahead of her.  But down inside, she was miserable and on the brink of suicide.  One night at Harringay she gave her life to Christ, and she was transformed.  A year later she married Bill Brown, whom she had met through the Crusade; since then she has been a steadfast witness to Christ’s power to change lives.  Her autobiographical story, No Longer Alone, was made into a feature-length film that God has used to bring many to a commitment to Christ.”

Graham’s recollection is a bit overstated.  Joan Winmill was indeed well known on the London stage, but her acting future was most uncertain.  The fact that she accepted a minor  role in the Dracula tour suggested that 1951 was one of the low ebbs in career.  Bill Brown ran World Wide Publications, the publishing arm of the Graham organization.  We quickly learnt that in addition to No Longer Alone, Wide World had also released several books on devotional topics by “Joan Winmill Brown.”  As we closed in on Joan Winmill, the name “Robert Kennedy” kept appearing in the information we gathered.  Could this be THE Robert Kennedy?  Again by coincidence appeared a new book, C. David Heymann’s comprehensive RFK – A Candid Biography.  And again it contained a surprising reference:

“Shortly after the burial (of RFK’s sister, Kathleen, who died in a plane crash in May 1948), Bobby arrived in London where he met William Douglas-Home, a British playwright who’d been a friend of Kennedy’s.  Hoping to lift the spirits of the bereaved young American, the dramatist gave Bobby tickets to see his long-running play The Chiltern Hundreds.  Backstage at the Vaudeville Theatre after the show RFK was introduced to Joan Winmill, the female lead.  Their ensuing romance is detailed by Jerry Oppenheimer in The Other Mrs. Kennedy, an intriguing biography of Ethel Kennedy.”

Via the internet, we soon had copies of both Joan Winmill’s long out-of-print autobiography, and the movie based on it.  No Longer Alone, published in 1975, is an anecdotal account of Joan’s unhappiness and inner demons, until finding purpose through Christ.  It contains few of the precise biographical details that researchers hope for, but it did give us all the information we needed to reach Joan through World Wide.  It also contains this reminiscence of the Dracula tour (reprinted with Joan Winmill Brown’s permission):

“I don’t remember how I ever got to audition for Dracula, but I do know that once I signed the contract, my fears told me I had done the wrong thing.

As a child I had once seen a film coming-attraction for Dracula.  (I was attending a bland comedy with my grandmother.)  I went under the seat until assured that it was over.  When we left the performance, we found a booth set up in the lobby with a sign which said, “Dare to Open These Curtains!”  Someone did—just as I walked by—and there, life-size, was a model of Dracula staring at me.  All the way home I knew he was following me.  Nanny had to stay in my room that night until I finally fell asleep, having been convinced he was not under my bed.  Now I was signed to go on tour with none other than Bela Lugosi, who created the role in the movie!

I was very hesitant to attend the first rehearsal and meet Mr. Lugosi.  He arrived late, making a grand entrance, and was introduced to each of the cast.  When it came my turn, I stood there in sheer amazement.  He looked just like the wax figure that had scared me so as a child.  But he was gracious and very professional as we proceeded with the first reading.

When it came time for the scene in which he was supposed to hypnotize me, I thought, “Here we go!”  I must not look as if I’m scared of him.  After all, this is ridiculous—it is only a play and he really is just an actor.”  But when he started to look into my eyes, I senses a strange burning sensation, and tears began to well up.  He stopped suddenly and said, “Child, never look in my eyes.  Always look here,” and he tapped his forehead.  I just did hat every time we played the scene after that, and thing went along smoothly.

He took playing the part of Count Dracula very seriously, and we were never allowed to change a word, a look, or a move.  It was as sacred as Shakespeare to him.  Once I heard him say that, perhaps, the worst thing for his career had been the success of Dracula, for people would never take him seriously an actor any more.  Apparently he had known great adulation in his homeland of Hungary.

In the final scene, set in a crypt, he was supposed to be in a coffin; the doctor and his friend, Van Helsing, drive a stake in Dracula’s heart—the only way he can be killed.  But Bela would never get in the coffin and would always give the death scream from the wings.  He had a great superstition about this.

The only time we saw him during the day would be when we would meet at the train to move from one city to another.  Then he would stride down the platform with is wife and son and disappear into a private compartment, to ride with the shades drawn for the entire journey.

The trouble with the cast was that, after we got over the awe of being with the Dracula, our emotions swung the other way.  The overly dramatic dialogue became too much for us, and we all started to get the giggles.  I cannot begin to describe the agonies we went through every night trying to control our feelings and playing our lines “straight.”  Once the stage director called us all on stage after a particularly giggly show and said he would fire all of us if we did not stop this appalling laughter.  Even as he said this, someone giggled and started all of us off again.  We were appearing way up north of London, and the poor director had no choice but to put up with us.  It even got to him finally, as night after night he had to oversee the fake bats and smoke that always preceded Dracula’s appearance.

One night the smoke got to me, too.  I came to the scene where Dracula was supposed to hypnotize me (just after I gasped in horror at seeing him).  The smoke, pumped under his cape each time he made an entrance—with arms wide apart, got down my throat and knocked me out cold.  The audience was unaware of what had happened, and somehow Bela ad-libbed his way through the scene—with me prostrate on the ground.  As soon as the curtain came down, I was whisked off to the waiting arms of a St. John’s Ambulance man.  These mean are volunteers who wait around for strange occurrences such as mine, so they can administer first aid.  Bela proceeded to direct all the traffic that had gathered.  He even prevented brandy being administered to me from a well-meaning member of the cast.  “Nooothing by way of mouth,” he kept repeating, “Noooooothing!”

I recovered enough to go on again the next day, but I was very careful not to exclaim too heartily upon seeing Dracula coming through my window.

We returned to London and played all the surrounding theaters, and then our tour was over.”

Joan Winmill’s reminiscence, written more than 20 years after the tour, contains both accuracies and inaccuracies.  Giggling among the cast—“corpsing” in British theatre slang—was an occasional problem in the Dracula tour, as it was in many provincial tours.  But it was not persistent and common.  None of the dozens of reviews or personal recollections from audience members that we had already amassed mention it.  In the closing scene, a mannequin did indeed lie in the coffin, as Bela supplied Dracula’s death cries from the wings.  However, Bela had no fear of lying in the coffin himself—he did exactly every night on the tour in the play’s prologue before the opening curtain.  Bela, Jr. did not accompany his parents on the 1951 tour.  Joan is probably confusing him with Paddy and Sean Dawson, the sons of David Dawson, who played Dr. Seward.

We frankly did not believe Joan’s fear of looking into Bela’s eyes, and her story about being overcome by stage fog in her big scene with Bela.  However, we later obtained independent confirmation of both tales.  John Mather, the producer, told us a year later—without our prompting—that Joan Winmill was genuinely terrified of Bela.  A year after that Janet Reid, the assistant stage manager, offhandedly mentioned that she had peeled the costume off the unconscious actress to take her place for the rest of the performance.

With the assistance of Wide World Publications, we at last made direct contact with Joan Winmill Brown.  On December 23, 1998, Frank interviewed Joan in a restaurant near her home in the Los Angeles suburbs.

Joan began acting shortly after World War II.  In 1947 a stroke of incredible luck gave her a lead role in a West End hit, The Chiltern Hundreds.  The unknown actress made only £14 per week, but for more than a year she had one of the choicest stage roles in London.  Joan had difficulty following up its success, and was already undermined by her personal insecurities and bouts with stage fright.  She coped through Phenobarbitals before performances and sleeping pills afterwards.  They got her onstage and through a performance, but also caused her to slur dialogue or drop lines.  In April 1951 she auditioned to play “Lucy” but only managed to hand the much smaller role of Wells the Maid.

Frank Dello Stritto: Can you tell me how you got the role in Dracula?

Joan Winmill Brown: Not really.  I don’t have a clear memory of the auditions at all.  I have to confess that it was a very difficult time for me, and there’s a lot I just don’t recall.  Also, I must tell you now that there’s a lot I remember that I won’t tell you.

FDS: Why?

JWB: That man who wrote the Kennedy book.  I never said most of the things he attributed to me.  There’s a lot more in there than I ever said.

FDS: Well, we’d like to tell the whole story of 1951, so please tell me whatever you can.  And please don’t tell me anything you don’t want printed.

JWB: This whole thing is almost surreal.  Dracula was so long ago, and it didn’t seem that important at the time.  And now here you are writing a book about it.

FDS: Well, there’s a lot of interest in Bela Lugosi, and 1951 is the blank page in his life story.  The auditions were in the offices of Routledge & White.  Do you remember anything about them?

JWB: I was one of their clients.  George Routledge and Gordon White were both very charming.  George was businesslike and fatherly; Gordon much more flirtatious.  He gave the impression of playing around a lot, like a Bill Clinton.

FDS: Where were you living then?

JWB: I had an apartment in London.  I had it through the whole tour.

FDS: What were the rehearsals like?

JWB: They were in an apartments in a Keningston, I think.  The décor was very Edwardian, with heavy wood panelling on the walls.  I remember a harp with all its stings snapped stood in the corner.  They looked to me as if they had been plucked away in anger.  It added the right atmosphere for the play.  At the first rehearsal, Bela entered in a very grand manner to greet the cast.

FDS: What was he like?

JWB: Always very kind and gentlemanly.  A very nice man.  But I think he very much controlled Lillian.  I heard her crying a few times—during a performance, in his dressing room.  I remember once I went past the dressing rooms and heard her sobs through the door.  I wanted to knock, but I didn’t.

FDS: There’s a scene in Dracula where Wells—your character—is taunted by Butterworth (John Saunders’ part) with mice.  Were they live mice or props?

JWB: Oh, I’d remember if they were live, and they weren’t.  I don’t know if I could have taken that every night.

FDS: A recent interview with a Lugosi co-star from the 1940s says that Bela usually insisted on live mice.

JWB: Believe me, they weren’t.  I don’t remember the topic ever being discussed.

FDS: John Saunders seems to have been a bit of character.  What are your memories of him?

JWB: Oh, John was very sweet and funny.  He always tried to make me laugh on stage.  He’d whispered to me under his breath, and make faces that no one else could see.

FDS: Your book mentions that the stage manager gave you a dressing down, in Middlesbrough, for the horseplay.

JWB: Yes, it might have been in Middlesbrough.  But I knew then that I would be leaving the tour soon. 

FDS: Why did you leave the tour?

JWB: I can’t recall why I left the play—maybe for a better job.  Second female lead in Dracula wasn’t much.  I think I earned only £8 or £10 per week.  And going on tour in the provinces was very hard for me.

FDS: Your book mentions the incident in Middlesbrough when you passed out.  Honestly, did it happen like that?

JWB: Oh, yes.  That definitely happened the way I described it.  It was my big scene with Bela.  He entered through the window.  “Night on Bald Mountain” played.  Under his cape was smoke pumped into it just before his entrance.  Well, in Middlesbrough,  I   inhaled too much of the smoke, and passed out.  Of course, I don’t remember anything after that.  I missed one or two performances.

FDS: There’s another fantastic incident on the tour, when Arthur Hosking (Van Helsing) could not go on, and Alfred Beale went on for him, reading the part from the script.

JWB: Oh, yes.  I remember that night.  That definitely happened.  He used pages for every scene except the last, the scene in the crypt.

FDS: You talk in your book about your family.  Did they see you in Dracula?

JWB: My father and aunt saw me, I think, at Wood Green.  Her grandmother never did.  My boyfriend, John, may have, but I don’t remember.

FDS: You told me on the phone a bit more about Lillian, that you met her long after the tour.

JWB: When I married and moved to California, we lived in an apartment in Hollywood Hills.  That was sometime in the 1950s, the late 1950s.  Somehow I re-established contact with Lillian.  Maybe, we bumped into each other while shopping.  We exchanged Christmas cards, and had an occasional telephone conversation, but then we drifted apart.

FDS: What did you talk about?

JWB: Oh, we talked about our children.

FDS: What did your children make of your acting career?

JWB: Oh, you’ll like this.  I had pretty much given up acting before my sons were old enough to remember.  I’d tell them about my days in theatre and the movies.  Well, a little later, my son told his schoolmates and teachers, “my mother used to work for Dracula”.

After working for Dracula in 1951, Joan continued her acting career, never really finding contentment or fulfillment.  Attending the Graham rally in 1954 changed her life.  Her life change attracted some strange publicity in England.  An American zealot, decried the tabloids, had brainwashed an innocent British girl.  Joan never looked back, never regretted the choices she made, but also never lost the charm and humor that the Dracula company still recall.  As we ended our interview, Bill Brown arrived to drive her home.  I told him that I would be taking my family to Disneyland in two days (Christmas 1998).  Bill explained in detail how to outwit the long waiting lines for rides and attractions.  Joan listened patiently as Bill gave me the low-down on beating the Disney system.  As they left, Joan whispered, “Billy Graham doesn’t know about this.” 

*          *          *

Dracula has only two female parts, Lucy Seward and Wells the Maid.  Sheila Wynn played Lucy for the entire tour.  Joan Winmill left the tour after 11 weeks, and was replaced by Joan Harding.  Joan Harding had joined the Dracula in its third week, as special effect manager.  She and the assistant stage manager worked the fog machine and the mechanical bat that flew  across the stage.  Both effects were prone to malfunctions.

Though several of our interviewees had worked with this second Joan before Dracula, none had any clue of what became of her.  Months of search on our part turned up no evidence.  None of our inquiries published in British newspapers had any success.  Our last hope was to write the hundred or so “Joan Hardings” in British telephone directories.  Our chances were slim.  We had no idea whether our Joan Harding was alive or dead, or even if “Joan Harding” was her real name.  Neither of the other actresses we had interviewed used the same names as during the tour.

Incredibly, we succeeded on letter number 7.  This Joan Harding lived only a short distance from Andi Brooks.  The signature on her letter matched an autograph on a program from the tour that Andi had obtained. 

Joan was born Joan Hart, in Bury, Lancashire.  Her father was a vicar who spent years in missionary service, and Joan spent much of her adolescence in British boarding schools.  During the war, she was evacuated to Liverpool, where she began elocution and dance lessons on weekends.  At age 14, she moved on to drama school, and started her acting career in the Buxton Repertory Company.  Tours of military postings, radio work and stints with different repertory troupes followed.  She did a season of religious drama, playing churches, schools and prisons across the British Isles, and again toured British military postings in Germany in Queen Elizabeth Slept Here, where she worked with Sheila Wynn.

Andi interviewed Joan on April 24, 1999, at her home in Radstock.

Andi Brooks: How long had you been acting when you joined the Dracula tour?

Joan Harding: About 6 years.

AB: Did you attend the original auditions in April?

JH: I may have done because I went to various auditions at that time, but I really couldn’t confirm it.

AB: How did you eventually land the job as Effects Manager?

JH: I don’t recall.  I suppose Betty Farmar just phoned me up and asked if I was interested.  Then I went along to see them—I think it was at the Streatham Hill Theatre—to see about joining them.  I think I was interviewed mainly by Alfred Beale.  I joined the company at Dudley the next week.  I remember going to Dudley Zoo with, I think, John Saunders.  I didn’t travel up there with the company on the Sunday, but went up there later in the week.  My fare was paid, but I don’t think I was paid for that week.  The next week, Eastbourne, I hadn’t booked anywhere in advance.  I know we were there early in the season because Janet Reid, the Canadian girl, had not yet left the company.

AB: Where did you wind up staying?

JH: Janet (the tour’s first assistant stage manager) and I became great friends while she was on the tour.  We arrived in Eastbourne with no digs booked.  We were going to stay with friends of hers, but it fell through.  We stayed in a guest house which didn’t usually take theatricals.  We just landed in Eastbourne and had to go looking for somewhere to stay.  We found a guest house, not the normal digs for theatricals.  I remember Janet went off one day and when she came back she had acquired a kitten which we had to smuggle in and out of the guest house for the couple of days that were left.  We took it along to the theatre and kept it in a box.  I can remember incidents we shared, such as some grotty digs in a very seedy part of town, with American service-men turning up on the doorstep with girls they had obviously just picked up at a pub or dance-hall and asking the landlady if she had a “suite” to rent.  This would double us up with laughter, but we felt lucky that the door had an inside lock.

AB: Did actors and the other company members share the same digs?

JH: Certainly the stage managers used the same digs as the cast.  We were given a list of accommodations a few weeks before.  We, either independently or together, wrote off.  Sometimes you wouldn’t know that you were going to be sharing with other members of the cast, sometimes you would.

AB: Did you have your own dressing room?

JH: Yes, I did because it wasn’t a very big cast.

AB: Did you have experience in effects?

JH: Yes.  I had staged managed and assistant stage managed before.

AB: What do you recall of the effects?

JH: I remember the smoke gun.  You fill it with an oily substance, glycerine or something, which we used to get from Ealing Film Studios.  It had a sparlet bulb like you use in a soda water siphon.  You have to heat it up so that when you fire it, it lets out steam rather than oil.  The smoke underneath the cape was achieved by Bela opening his cloak wide, the smoke gun being fired at his feet seconds before he made his entrance.  Bela then wrapped the cloak around himself trapping it.

AB: Did you have problems with the bats?

JH: I can’t remember much about them.  I don’t think I had much to do with them, being engaged elsewhere, doing the thunder and lightening that accompanied them. I think that we did have occasional snags with them, but I think that most of the problems had been ironed out before I joined.

AB: What was morale like among the company when you joined?

JH: I think that one or two did leave because they were unhappy about something or other.

AB: Do you recall preparing to go in place of Sheila when she almost missed the opening curtain at the Shepherd’s Bush Empire?

JH: No, at that point I would have been in the understudy of Joan Winmill, who in turn was the understudy of Sheila.   It was Joan Winmill who was dressed in her negligee and I was in the maid’s dress.  When I took over from Joan I then became the understudy of Sheila.  I remember taking over from Sheila in Queen Elizabeth Slept Here.

AB: If you had to take over, as in Middlesbrough, who would have handled the effects?

JH: Well, I was still able to do some of them when I wasn’t on. The stage manager or ASM would have done them while I was on.  I remember arriving in Middlesbrough.  It was about mid-day, but it was black as night.  It was dreadful.  Perhaps it was an omen that all was not going to go well.

AB: Joan Winmill was having personal problems when she left.  Was it obvious?

JH: I think so, yes.  I think she had boyfriend trouble.  I never really got to know her, she tended to be with Sheila.  I just know that she was going through some sort of traumatic experience.

AB: Other than Janet Reid, did you form any particular friendships with fellow cast members?

JH: I was fairly friendly with Richard and John.  When I took over as the maid, I became friendly with Janet Gray, the girl who took over from me.  Occasionally I would go somewhere with Sheila.

AB: Here’s a list of the cast of company members.  Do you have any recollections of them?

JH: Let’s see.  Arthur Hosking—I think he was a little dissatisfied with the whole thing for some reason, but I’m not sure why.  Ralph Wilson was very pleasant.  But I don’t really remember a lot about him, since I tended to stay with the younger people like Richard and John.  Richard Butler was very nice, very pleasant.  I may be wrong, but I think I’d met him before. Since then I have spotted him on television from time to time.  Sheila and I weren’t great friends, but we were quite friendly.  I do remember Sheila getting upset one night when Richard and John came into the dressing room and we were laughing and fooling about, and she said we were turning into a “bean garden.”  John Saunders was always friendly and pleasant, good company.  Peter Whelpton—I think his wife was expecting a baby.  I remember going shopping for nightdresses suitable for nursing mums with him, but I don’t remember where.

AB: What do you recall of your role?

JH: When the play started I was on the set and then someone, I think Richard, came on and we just had a few lines together.  I had one large-ish scene with John and the scene where Bela tries to hypnotise me.

AB: Were regular rehearsals held during the tour?

JH: No, not many, if at all. I do remember one.  I think that it was Eric who couldn’t quite get one scene right, and Bela showed him how to do it.  I was very surprised.  One tended to think of Bela as Dracula and nothing else.  I don’t know what else he did.  He was synonymous with Dracula.  I can remember sitting in the stalls and watching him and thinking, “Yes, he can act—he’s not just Dracula.”

AB: Did you have a “typical” day during the tour?

JH: Not really.  It depended on what sort of place we were in.  If we were at the seaside, we would spend quite a bit of time on the beach, depending on the weather.  It depended where we were.

AB: What did you think of the tour compared to other work that you had done?

JH: I don’t think it was a very good production—I don’t think it was a well balanced play.  I can’t think of it being measurably less or more memorable than other work that I’d done.  It was just another job I think really.  As I said, the last thing I did before that was Queen Elizabeth Slept Here in Germany, which was quite fun, you know—a new country, a different place.  It was exhilarating at some times as well.

AB: Did you have any problems with your pay?

JH: We were paid.

AB: Did your rate of pay change when took over from Joan?

JH: I can’t remember.  I think I was …£6 comes to mind, but I wouldn’t like to say definitely.

AB: Were all of the tour dates confirmed in advance?

JH: I think towards the end they were rather filled in as we went along.  I think the tour would have gone on if they could have found more dates.  I think they did try to get more but failed.  We did the dates we were given, but they were hoping to go on.  We did have one week off, the penultimate week.  I think it was always a bit tenuous.  They said that there had been a fire at the theatre we were supposed to play in, but it may have just been an excuse as it was always a bit tenuous.

AB: You were based in London at this time?

JH: Yes, I had to be for my work.

AB: So you could commute from your home for the London dates?

JH: Oh no.  I was only in digs in London, my home wasn’t there.  I had to give up my digs when I went on tour with Dracula, so I had to find digs when we came back to London.

AB: Do you recall any kind of farewell party when the tour closed?

JH: I remember drinking gin out of paper cups in Bela’s dressing room.  I can’t remember anything else.

AB: Did you ever socialise with the Lugosis?

JH: Not really.  They usually stayed in hotels and we were in digs.  It must have been pretty hard work for him doing two shows a night, so I don’t think he did much.  He was like Dracula, he didn’t come out in the daylight very much.  Bela had a cabin trunk, which opened like a book, with drawers on one side and hanging space on the other.  I think his cloak actually travelled in the coffin.

AB: Did he manage to revive his energy for the performances?

JH: Yes, he did.  He was very commanding on stage.

AB: Was his performance ever affected by his growing deafness or his drug use?

JH: No, I don’t think so.  I think he was on autopilot, he’d been doing it for so long.

AB: What particular memories do you have of him?

JH: The main times that we mixed with Bela were on the trains in the dining cars.  His table manners left something to be desired.  He smoked cigars incessantly which was very off putting.  But both Lillian and Bela were very friendly.  You could go into Bela’s dressing room and sit and have a chat.  It wasn’t as if they were stand-offish, but I think he usually only came out at night to go to the theatre to do the two shows and then went back to his hotel.  They stayed at the Copper Kettle Café in Norwich, because Bela hadn’t been paid yet.  They said it was very good.  It cost them £4-4-0 each for the week.  As I say, they were always very friendly, although we didn’t really socialise.  I think that he looked tired a lot, which he probably was, and a bit out of it sometimes.  Lillian was always with him, she was always in his dressing room and would quite often come to the prompt side when he was on.  But when he made his entrance from the other side of the stage or from the back of the stage and I had to be with him, waiting in the dark alone, his hands would wander a bit.  Nothing very heavy, just…Going back to the smoke gun—Eric told you about my going to his dressing room when Lillian wasn’t there.   He is right about my going to get programmes signed and Bela not letting me go.  People would usually wait outside the stage door for the cast to come out, or hand them to the stage doorkeeper.  On this occasion they passed the task on to me.  Bela started to come on to me a bit stronger and I said, “I’ve got to go, Bela, my gun’s getting hot.”  “So’s mine!” he said.  I had to promise him that I would go back after returning the autographs to the waiting people.  Eric wasn’t there by that time, as I can assure you it was more than “that look in his eyes.”  He was told about it later.  When I got out of Bela’s dressing room I was doubled-up with laughter and Janet wanted to know why, so I told her what had been said.  She said, “Oh, I must tell Eric.”  I said I didn’t want it broadcast and she said, “Oh, do let me tell Eric—it’s the sort of thing that would amuse him.” So, I said OK.

AB: He did make passes at other ladies in the company.  Was he just joking?

JH: Well, he wasn’t on his own with anybody enough for it to go anywhere.  But if he had been…I’m not naïve enough to believe I was the only girl he ever made a pass at!

AB: Do you have any other memories of Lillian?

JH: I don’t know about Lillian keeping the women at a distance.  She was always very mindful of Bela, but I found her very friendly and kind.  In fact after the tour she invited me to the dinner, at the house they were renting, with John and Richard.  Unfortunately it took her a few days to reach me, finally phoning me at the Equity Club, but by that time I had already arranged to go to a show with someone from a previous company, probably the only evening I couldn’t have managed.  I was very disappointed, I would love to have seen them one last time.

Joan Harding stayed with the Dracula tour until it closed on October 13, 1951.  In 1952, she gave birth to daughter, and left acting. “In those days, you couldn’t really combine having a family with carrying on in the theatre,” she recalled.   “I think that it is easier today, but I’d seen so many wives here, husbands on the other side of the country and children farmed out with grandparents, and they never seem to meet up.”

With our interview of Joan Harding, we had recorded the memories of the six surviving cast members of the 1951 Dracula tour.  We continued to search for the offstage members of the company.  The tour went through three stage managers and three assistant stage managers in its six months on the road.  Peter Whelpton and Gordon Marshall (the first and last stage managers) had both passed away.  Our sustained inquiries into the others had not succeeded.

The ones we really needed to find were the producers and the director—the men in charge of the production.  Richard Eastham, the director, was remembered with respect by everyone we had interviewed.  We quickly learnt that two different Richard Easthams were working in theatre in 1951, a British director and an American singer and actor, whose career had peaked with South Pacific.  His daughter contacted us, but from the director, nothing.  The Stage, the trade journal of British theatre, had already published several of our letters seeking lost members of the tour.  The weekly paper agreed to one more, and we decided for a little shock value.  Richard Butler had remembered (incorrectly, we later learned) that Eastham often wore colorful socks.  We included that in our inquiry.  The Stage ran an article entitled “Sock Man Search.”

A week later came a letter from east of London.  “Richard Eastham is alive and well, and never wore flashy socks in his life…”

To Be Continued

Part 3