HENRI SALVADOR’S formula for show business success is lots of sleep. “I like nine hours sleep a night plus another three hours in which to wake up properly,” he said.

Stocky, dynamic Henri is one of two French acts giving a Continental flavour to Granada’s Chelsea at Nine on Thursday. He has been a top-liner on the continent for more than 10 years, and a star in South America before that.

It is only in the last couple of years that he has become known in this country but the Queen saw him in Paris a long time ago.

“When she was Princess Elizabeth,” said Henri, “she came to the Carrere club. I ran the band and was the cabaret. She must have enjoyed herself. She was to stay half an hour. She left after five hours.”

Everything Henri does is polished. He sings romantically or skittishly, dances expertly, and has few equals as a mime comedian (usually with a background of noises he has made and recorded beforehand).

Henri, aged 42, is a native of the French West Indies [French Guiana – Ed]. When he was three, his parents moved to Paris. He spent his childhood in a poor neighbourhood. Often the family moved — suddenly. He made money at an early age, shining shoes or selling newspapers (“usually second hand ones”).

At school he could not concentrate. He decided to learn to play an instrument and become an entertainer.

“I liked drums, but they were too bulky to carry round. Clarinet tickled my lips. Trumpet bruised them. Guitar. I fell in love with the shape — like a woman! Light to carry, too.

“Soon I found I could play the guitar well, and got a job with Ray Ventura, a leading French orchestra leader.

“I used to fool around at rehearsals and make everyone laugh. Some of the boys suggested I become a comedian. I worked up some “business” and Ray Ventura let me do it when we went to South America on tour.

“I became a star there. I left the band,” he told me in his breathless, enthusiastic way, using good English, which he says he learnt phonetically.

“When I got back to Paris, I went to a music hall owner and told him I was a star in South America. He said so what. I said I could become a star in Paris. He shrugged. I asked him for a chance — only 30 minutes to close the first half. He laughed. But in the end he gave me my chance.

“I kept my promise. I became a star overnight. That was in 1946. Since then, my job is to stay a star. That is why I work 12 hours a day, rehearsing and thinking up new material.” Unusual sounds inspire his songs and comedy. He memorises them easily (“That’s how I learn languages”).

His noisy diner sketch was a product of keeping his ears open in a restaurant, and imitating what he heard on a sound recorder.

English audiences have thrilled him. “So quick, so complimentary. They feel like flying over London without an aeroplane.”

When he can sneak away from business for an hour or two, he likes fly fishing. “I am a natural lazy man, coming from the Indies,” he admits. “Sitting by a river is fine with me. If I catch a trout, I’ll be so happy. If not, maybe I catch a tan.”

Actually, Henri is not lazy as he tries to make out. He burns up a great deal of energy when he is entertaining and replaces it with plenty of sleep and by sucking glucose and sugar.

“I wouldn’t be able to get on a stage without a sugar lump,” he told me.

Also from France come Les Ballets Modernes de Paris with one of their hits, Dans la Rue. It is the tale of a night in a big city, complete with a street-corner fight applauded by “shady ladies” and high-spirited night clubgoers returning home.

The ballet is run by a married French couple, Francoise and Dominique Dupuy. Last year they triumphed at the Edinburgh Festival with the ballet The Seventh Sacrament.

Francoise says: “That was a serious ballet but this time we will give a lighter show.” She adds: “I am very happy to go to London, since I like the town and I know the people appreciate good dancing. Also, I want to buy a lot of cardigans and cashmeres. And have a good time.”

The seven dancers in the troupe come from all over the world. A new recruit is an 18-year-old Swiss, small and shapely Marie Aubert. From Germany there is Karin Waehner; from Uruguay, Paul Darnot, and from France, Michele Andren and Roger Ribes.

Their choreographer is British — Deryk Mendel who worked in English ballet before the war and afterwards settled in Paris with the Champs Elysées Ballet before joining them.

Says Mendel: “Our technique will be new to British audiences, it may shake a few old people who are not used to modern dancing.”

Music for Dans la Rue comes from America composed by jazz genius Duke Ellington. It is part of his A Drum is a Woman which he recorded, and presented on US television, in 1957. One singer was Margaret Tynes, and she is coming to Chelsea at Nine next week to recreate her part.

Margaret Tynes has had a distinguished career both as Broadway show singer and serious operatic soprano. She was in more than 200 Broadway performances of Finian’s Rainbow and was leading lady to Harry Belafonte in another show, Sing, Man, Sing. She has sung in Moscow in a show presented by Ed Sullivan, played Lady Macbeth in Verdi’s Macbeth with the Montreal Opera Company in Canada, worked for the NBC TV Opera Company, and had five and a half years with the New York City Centre Opera Company.

Two other Americans, both comedians, also appear in Chelsea at Nine: Orson Bean (a return engagement) and Jack Wakefield who was born in Brooklyn, New York, but who made his name in Canada before returning to triumph in New York

Talking of Canada, the show will be compered by Canada’s Bernard Braden.

The post The Continent comes to Chelsea appeared first on THIS IS GRANADA from Transdiffusion.

SONG-WRITERS have been making music and romance synonymous for thousands of years. And three people in Granada’s Chelsea at Nine week provide excellent evidence that the two really go together.

Xavier Cugat and Abbe Lane have happily married for seven years. Tony Martin — here on his own while his wife, Cyd Charisse, rehearses for a new spectacular in America — is heading for his 12th wedding anniversary.

“You can say,” Xavier Cugat agreed, “that rhythm was responsible for our romance. I was looking for a vocalist and I saw Abbe in a Broadway show. She was everything I had in mind. That was nine ago and we have been together ever since”

Abbe was not quite 17 at the time, and they were married two years later. More than 30 years difference in their ages has not mattered in the least.

“The trouble with so many married couples,” said Abbe, “is that they go dancing before marriage, but they don’t dance together after marriage. I believe they ought to go on the dance floor as much as they can. Cugie and I are always seeking out places where we can dance together and forget about everything else.

“You can’t quarrel when you’re dancing. And if you have been out of tune, you soon find yourself in harmony again.”

Cugie chuckled. “When I was at the Waldorf in New York recently,” he said, “someone said my music must have been responsible for a lot of marriages — but one fellow added that it was also responsible for a lot of alimony!”

Barcelona-born Cugat and American-Spanish Abbe Lane might not quite add up to A to Z of show business, but at any rate they represent from A (for Abbe) to X (for Xavier), and that’s quite a lot. Theirs is an ideal combination, with Cugat providing the music and his wife providing the visual and vocal appeal.

The last time Cugie worked in this country was as a violinist with the Vincent Lopez orchestra at the old Kit-Kat Club in London, in the early 1930’s.

“I was learning rhythm with one or two bands before setting up on my own,” he explained. “Up to then, I was a classical musician.”

When he did strike out, he set a new pattern in dancing by forming the first big-time dancing orchestra in America and popularising Latin-American music.

He would have been back to London more often — but for our quarantine laws. His love of chihuahua dogs is well-known.

When I saw them, both he and Abbe were anxious to get back to Paris, where they left their chihuahua, Pasquilina, and their French poodle, Susie. “We hate to go anywhere without them,” Abbe said.

The association of Cugat and chihuahuas began when he made his first film, Holiday in Mexico, and carried one around with him.

“The chihuahua received far more fan mail than I did,” he said. “Since then, I have had one with me in all my 14 films, and the same thing has happened every time.”

Tony Martin, the singer who married the dancer, is always more willing to talk about his wife and two sons than about anything else.

He and Cyd Charisse, of course, work independently, “but TV is bringing us together,” he told me. “We are going to co-star for the first time in a spectacular.”

Tony has been a singing star for nearly 25 years — with the accent on the word “singing,” using a good, straight, no-gimmick voice.

“A fellow asked me for my advice on how to keep going as long as I have,” he said. “I told him: ‘Sing good, make a series of come-backs, and don’t let people down.’

“Those of us who have managed to stay at the top for a long time — Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra, Perry Como and Frankie Laine — have two things in common. We’re singers, and we always try to give a good show.

“Good singing will always outlast freak performances. When I think back on the equivalents of today’s rock n’ rollers 20 years ago, I can’t even remember their names. They’ve disappeared completely.

“I might never have caused quite such delirious fan-worship, but I am earning more today than at any time in my life.”

The post Keep dancing for a happy marriage appeared first on THIS IS GRANADA from Transdiffusion.

BACK on television on Thursday comes Granada’s Chelsea at nine. And with the first two shows Britain is introduced to two Canadian comedians who have rocketed to the top in North American TV.

Their names: Johnny Wayne and Frank Shuster. Their hometown: Toronto. Their ages: “incredibly old.”

They look, in fact, incredibly young. Wayne, the shorter, stockier of the two, reminds me — in appearance — of Mike Todd. Shuster looks like John Wayne (the film star, that is).

They have been working together ever since they joined the Boy Scouts 25 years ago. Their first show was a play produced for a Scout jamboree — “it wasn’t the best script we’ve ever written,” said Wayne. “But then, it probably wasn’t the worst, either.” Their first professional break came years later at university in Toronto. It is said an advertising man saw one of their college shows and offered them a radio programme.

Neither Wayne nor Shuster knew anything about radio. But they bought a handbook and got down to finding out. “That book certainly taught us something,” said Shuster. “I must try and remember some day what it was.”

Individualists they have always been. With energy and ingenuity they work out satirical sketches which, frequently, require elaborate sets.

“We believe sets are important, especially in our kind of work,” said Shuster.

Unlike many comics who have an assembly line of gag writers, Wayne and Shuster work on their own scripts and produce their own shows.

“We go 50-50 in the writing and ideas for our shows. Sometimes we sit down and feel we’re absolutely dry of new ideas, but then something turns up,” said Wayne.

The first Chelsea at nine has a musical opener — words and music by, of course, Wayne and Shuster. Three sketches, interspersed by appearances by the Ray Ellington Quartet and Valerie Masters, will include a skit on boxing movies, entitled “Bell, Book and Canvas.”

“It’s a father-son tussle, but please ask don’t who plays father,” says Shuster.

Another sketch introduces The Professor (Wayne) who is the original expert. “He knows about everything and is a regular character of ours ” explained Frank.

“In this particular sketch he’s a submarine know-all.”

Third sketch, entirely mimed, concerns the leaning Tower of Pisa — any further description would be impossible.

Compering the first two Chelsea at nine shows is another Canadian, Bernard Braden, who used to work for Wayne and Muster in radio many years ago.

“We always thought that boy would go far,” they say, nodding wisely. “And he did, too … 3,000 miles.”

The post Canada comes to Chelsea appeared first on THIS IS GRANADA from Transdiffusion.

THREE top international stars head Granada’s new Chelsea at nine series, which comes back with a bang this week in a new spot on Thursday every three weeks.

And supporting them will be many old favourites among the team that has proved since the first programme in September, 1957, that top artistic talent of all kinds can be mixed — without frightening away the customers.

Headliners this week include American comedian Dave Barry, Portuguese singer Amalia Rodrigues, and San Francisco jazz and ballad singer Ruth Olay.

Dave, who after his appearance at the London Palladium some time ago was described as a “brilliant humorist,” bases his routines on the everyday happenings of “Mr Average.” The things that happen at home, the problem of money, and the usual trials and tribulations with the wife and children.

He does a great deal of his own writing. He is, too, an amateur cartoonist and his sense of satire can be detected in his drawings as well as his performances.

The strong, passionate, untamed voice of Fado singer Amalia Rodrigues has taken her from the market places and cafes of Lisbon to concert programmes as a star solo artist in most of the European capitals. She explains: “Fados are Portuguese folk songs that have been handed down from generation to generation. In Portugal, if we are bored, we sing; if we are lonely, we sing. Fados tell of hopeless hearts, sadness, loneliness, passion, jealousy, love, pain and longing. Fado is all that exists.”

Ruth Olay makes her first British TV appearance in Chelsea at nine. She was born in San Francisco, the daughter of a rabbi. At one time she was secretary to a Hollywood scriptwriter.

Bandleader Benny Carter “discovered” her singing in a “jam” session and her first job was with his band. Soon after came her first recording. That was in 1953. Some years later she reached the bestseller class with Singin’ in the Rain. “I have been interested in show business ever since I can remember,” she says.

Her other interests include reading science fiction, record collecting, swimming and volley-ball.

As well as Transatlantic stars, more and more Continental entertainers are being brought over to appear in the show. Many have to be booked six or eight months in advance.

Those who decide on the balance of the programme and the selection of artists are Ann Suudi, Granada’s casting director, and producer of the show, Eric Fawcett. They have recently returned from a tour of Sweden, France and Denmark in a search for talent.

Chelsea at nine is rehearsed and staged in what was the Chelsea Palace Theatre in King’s-road, London.

After the Palace opened in 1902, patrons enjoyed in the “luxuriously appointed and handsomely decorated theatre” (to quote a 1904 bill) everything from all-in wrestling to a season of Shaw plays.

The late Yvonne Arnaud (billed as “a new French artiste”), Mrs Patrick Campbell, Gerald du Maurier and G. H. Elliott, the Original Chocolate-Coloured Coon, have all played at the Palace.

George Robey, Harry Tate, Charlie Chaplin (playing in Fred Karno’s show: Twice Nightly), Sir Harry Lauder, Gracie Fields and Nellie Wallace are some more famous Chelsea Palace names.

The Palace closed as a variety theatre in March 1957. Five months later it became officially known as the Granada.

The exclusion of the more “obvious” variety acts from the show has not narrowed the programme’s scope. In fact, the aim of the producers has always been to increase the show’s individuality by featuring artists not normally associated with variety.

Since its inception, Chelsea at nine has presented internationally famous artists from every field of entertainment. For many of them, it meant a first British TV appearance.

Douglas Fairbanks compered the first and many of the early shows, introducing such big names as Pouishnoff, the Rumanian Folk Dancers, and Richard Tucker, “Brooklyn’s Caruso.” Other comperes have been Bernard Braden, Jack Hawkins and the current host, Lionel Murton.

More scoops over the past 16 months have been comedienne Anna Russell, who came over from the US for a one-night appearance, Ram Gopal, the Indian dancer, Yehudi Menuhin, and Maria Callas.

Yehudi Menuhin was booked at two days’ notice. His appearance was scheduled at a time when there was a ’flu epidemic in England. Most of the cast, except for Charles Laughton, were affected. Menuhin, then appearing at the Festival Hall, was asked to take part. He agreed and was delighted to find that Laughton, an old friend, was sharing the bill with him.

Other famous personalities who have taken a bow in Chelsea at nine are Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Sari Barabas, the Hungarian opera star, violinist Isaac Stern and Dame Edith Evans. Excerpts from successful London plays have frequently been presented and viewers have been treated to a wide variety of current comedy and dramatic productions.

“Regulars” in Chelsea at nine since it began have been The Granadiers, the song and dance group (seven boys and six girls) who work under the direction of 33-year-old Cliff Adams. The girls and boys who make up the group have achieved a reputation for clever timing and excellent singing.

Cliff Adams formed the group especially for Chelsea at nine. He decides on a song, arranges it, has a discussion with choreographer Mark Stuart and producer Eric Fawcett. When all three agree, a routine is worked out.

“There have been few changes in the group since it started,” said Cliff, “But I always audition everyone who writes to me and wants to be in the show.” Chief assets for a would-be Granadier: Good appearance and adaptability. Their dance style is a blend of movement and music aided by spirited teamwork.

By November 18 last year The Granadiers had sung and danced their 100th Chelsea at nine number.

Peter Knight and his orchestra have also appeared in every show. Peter is the tubby, ex-Inland Revenue clerk whose parents wanted him to be a concert pianist. He says: “This is one of the most interesting jobs I’ve done. Musically it has immense range, from opera to ‘pop.’ We are kept on our toes, too, because we have to cope with slick American arrangements.”

The post Chelsea top-line appeared first on THIS IS GRANADA from Transdiffusion.

I BOARDED a plane for Paris, bound for the French premiere of Françoise Sagan’s “sex and poison” shocker, Le Rendez-Vous Manque — The Broken Date.

What the Ballet-Theatre Francais showed me — and what they’ll show similarly thinking viewers in Granada’s 35-minute Chelsea at Nine excerpt on Tuesday — was that ballet-wise, I’ve been bemused for years by milk-and-water stuff. Their production is fantastic and shocking and daring and as virile as it comes.

From London to Paris I am given the whole story by an American woman who had seen the first night in Monte Carlo a few weeks earlier.

“It’s this way, honey” — and I’ll shorten the story to necessities. “The man falls for a married woman. They have an affaire. She promises that if she meets him in his room later, it will mean she’s left her husband.

“While he’s hanging around waiting, his friends, high-spirited kids, stage a surprise party — real rock n’ roll stuff. And he gets vamped in a bathroom by a sexy bit of goods. Dunno how it got past the censor.

“His lady is late getting to him, and … Gee, I’d better not tell you the end where he takes the poison. That would spoil it for you.”

Backstage I meet the fabulous 22-year-old Sagan. Holding a big bouquet she’s so quiet, almost mousey, I mistake her for a flower delivery girl! She is tiny. Stilt heels push her up to 5ft 6in. Careless-cut blonde hair. Two deep dimples whenever, as often happens, she smiles. And the minute she speaks there is a supreme confidence about her.

“I write the ballet very quick. The changes take a long time. In Monte Carlo it is seen by very old people. They do not understand the young ones … pfui! Look for scandal, and one will always find it.”

I ask why romance, often illicit, plays a big part in her writings. “Perhaps I am a romantic person,” she murmurs, thinks again, dimples, and adds: “perhaps it is life. I write of real people.”

I speak to Noëlle Adam, who is involved with Vladimir Skouratoff in the bathroom scene. She’s so curvy that even the shapeless raincoat she is wearing looks interesting. Provocatively pretty, the blonde is starring in French movies — and turning down Hollywood ones because she will not sign a seven-year contract.

“Eet is not shocking. Zose nudes in movies — zey are shocking,” she counter attacks, her dancing brown eyes flashing a challenge.

Skouratoff wanders in, and her challenge is not accepted. “Not a shocking ballet,” he insists. “Carmen is shocking. Zis is nozzing. Good publicity, zat is all.”

Skouratoff. dark haired, intense and very masculine, was born in Paris of Russian parents. This is his first modern ballet, and part of it gave him a tough time. “Ze rock ‘n’ roll, it is ver’ difficult. Ze body movements are all different.” He leaves, shoulders squared back, every pace a ballet move rather than just a step forward.

The other principal, Toni Lander, is a slender blonde from Denmark. She does not think the ballet shocking, and she does not think the jazz scene is really ballet. In which she agrees with Skouratoff but is at variance with Noëlle Adam.

The bathroom scene was the one that had to be changed after the Monte Carlo opening.

Changed? Says Sagan: “It is longer. The ending is different since he now rejects the vamp.”

Shocking? Admitted choreographer John Taras: “We went as far as possible — without breaking the law.”

The post The Sagan Ballet Sizzles at Nine! appeared first on THIS IS GRANADA from Transdiffusion.