Hogmanay, the Royal Opera House …and me

Hogmanay is distinctly Scottish – New Year’s Day when heavily-committed Scotsmen return to their Homeland to get decidedly drunk celebrating the fact.

 It noticeably impacted on me in 1956 when my business colleague at the national Sunday Dispatch newspaper where we worked as lowly clerks said offhandedly ‘So many Scots Guards are heading home for Hogmanay, they need replacements.’

 Doug had recently returned from doing his 2 years National Service in the Welsh Guards. He had for the last 6 months of his tenure been based at the barracks at Bird Cage Walk, London (very near Buckingham Palace). There he discovered another employment – appearing on the stage. Not in ‘Footlights’  or anything to do with entertaining the troops but keeping the audience at the Royal Opera House enraptured.

 A right about turn you might believe and you would be correct but very much in the manner of tradition.

 Ever since Queen Victoria visited the Opera House and saw actors performing as military she said ‘My guardsmen can do better than that!’ And when Queen Victoria made statements like that they were obeyed. And so it came to pass that guardsmen stationed at Bird Cage Walk barracks were entitled to be ‘supernumeraries (supers) in the Covent Garden’s superb operas. Supers – non-speaking parts – ‘the lowest of the low’ – essentially extras for the stage.

 Returning to ‘Civvie Street’ Doug was able to continue his evening contribution to the finer arts and added to his meager Sunday Dispatch salary in the process.

 And so it came to pass that New Year 1957 arrived and so many of the Scots Guards were due northwards for the holiday that there would be a dearth of supernumeraries for the opera Aida. Doug enquired if we of the Sunday Dispatch Circulation department would care to step into the breach and get paid of course. We three: Howden, Putnam and myself agreed. Putnam, short of stature and bearded was advised if stopped at the stage door to say he was in the band. Howden at 6’2” and myself had no other instructions other than turn up – on time.

 No, Sophia Loren was not in the opera, only a film version.

So in the cramped dressing room we were introduced to the roles and payments for the night. If dressed as Egyptian soldiers we would be paid half a guinea (10shillings and sixpence 'old money', 75 cents, US), because of the greasepaint we would need to apply. Ethiopians with more skin visible would be paid 15 shillings and Nubian Slaves, black from top to bottom would be paid one guinea.

 Appropriately chosen we applied the orangey makeup with a sponges from a Victorian ‘po’ (chamber pot) to our face, arms and legs.

 Our role was part of the ‘parade’ which was a feature of Aida. We would take a wooden spear or giant salver plate as part of the parade across the stage – then turn backstage to exchange spears for other weapons and join on the end of the line. Keen eyed members of the audience might notice a person appearing more than once.

 When it was finished we would rush backstage, throw the spears (upright I hasten to add) to the backstage lad who dexterously fielded them – while we rushed to be first in the shower. Nubian slaves would later have the showers to themselves. Their guinea was earned for being longer onstage.

 Having got the taste of Show business, I also appeared in Boris Godunov and Meistersingers holding a banner but Aida was the more frequent opera. Three times more than the others because it ‘lost the least amount of money’ I was told.

 One memorable evening warming up, a guardsman mocked the obvious gayness of one of the male ballet troupe. He in return gave an elegant high kick which hit the guardsman squarely under the chin and knocked him out. One less for the parade and an instant stop to any further mockery.

One day Derek, an-earlier-school colleague thought he saw me on stage of another opera. Could it be? ‘No’, I said ‘I work in the circulation department of the Sunday Dispatch’. ‘My, you have a double’, he said, possibly suspecting my reluctance to admit being a ‘thespian’.

He wasn’t there when the prompter gave us a stage whisper to ‘Turn’. We did, but clearly it was a wrong order because his stage whisper could be heard over the silence throughout the house. I slowly turned back as we all did to see him head in hands having taken his eyes off the score!

Little did I know that it would be another forty years before I would return to 'acting' as a film extra.

Memories…