Stage-Struck

The Letters of a Young Peer Who Besieges the Theatrical Strongholds

LESLIE HOWARD

Lord Frederick Bunne to his sister, Lady Agatha Bunne, Bunne Castle, Forfarshire, N. B.

120 Grosvcnor Square,

London, W. 1.

July 1st.

Aggie, Old Dear:

Have just heard we arc broke. Damned inconvenient and so like us. However, don't worry. I'm going to work. Not sure what at, at the moment. Meanwhile perhaps you had better marry that lellow—what's-his-name— even if he did make his money in Fertilizer. Anyway it's up to you—I mean you've got to live with him, thank God. Cheerio.

Your loving brother, Freddie.

July 5th.

My dear Aggie:

Would you believe it! I'm going on the stage, my dear old thing. Fact. I decided it last night sitting in the stalls at the Haymarkct Theatre. Saw Gerald du Mauricr this morning. He thinks I'm a born actor, but strongly advises me to go to America. They appreciate talent so much more there. Next I saw Basil Dean. He was also convinced I'd find more scope in America. Isn't that strange, Aggie.' Must be something in it, what? Jolly old Dean gave me a note to a famous American Manager —Gilbert Miller. He's not sure where I can find Mr. Miller just now, but says he's in Budapest most of the time, when he's not in London, Venice, Carlsbad, Biarritz or Le Touquct. Of course every now and again he visits New York to see how his plays are going on, but Budapest is his favourite town, so I'm going to Budapest tomorrow to find him. What price enterprise. 1 think I'll—I say, excuse me old darling.

Freddie.

Budapest,

July 9th.

Worthy old bean,

Have been here two days. Some difficulty in locating the honourable Miller, my Hungarian not being what it used to be. However, found him at last sitting in Cafe Otthon with a plump gentleman with a monocle, a fellow named Molnar, a writer fellow. Very nice chap, Miller. Said he couldn't understand why 1 hadn't gone on the stage years ago. Funny thing though; said 1 ought to stay in England. On no account go to America. "T hey might misunderstand you." His very words. Now what do you make of that, Aggie? You could have bowled me over with a glance. But I very firmly insisted on going to America—oh, verv firmly, Aggie. I'm determined to retrieve the family fortunes. "Well," he said—Miller,

1 mean—"1 shall be in Budapest for some years, but I'll give you a note to mv friend A1 Woods, another famous American Manager." "Where

is her" I asked quickly. Miller said something in Hungarian to Molnar and they both laughed good-naturedly. I laughed a little too—I forget why. "Ah, there you have me," he answered. "You may find him at the Piccadilly Hotel, London, or he may be in Rome, Berlin, Aix-lcs-Bains, or Atlantic City." Some men would have been stumped by this sally, but not your jolly little brother. I should say not. "Describe A1 Woods," I snapped in a flash. "Impossible," said Miller. "Describe him," I insisted, and he did. I tell you, Aggie, if the description is accurate I shall find Mr. Woods. It was quite a definite description, so to speak.

I leave Budapest tonight. At the boy!!! (American—meaning Hurrah!)

Cheerio

Freddie.

P. S. Have just heard the most ordinary actors get $3,000 a week in America. I could get through on $2,000 and send you $1,000. You could manage on that, living quietly in the country—what?— So don't bother to marry that Fertilizer chap.

, F.

120 Grosvcnor Square,

London, W. 1.

July 16th.

Now my dear old thing,

1 mean to say! Don't be a silly old ass, and take offense. Good God, Aggie—when I say "Fertilizer chap" 1 don't mean "Fertilizer chap" I just mean fertilizer chap—you know —fellow' that sells fertilizer. No harm in that —not that it's my idea of a career. However— the war changed everything—what! Point is —why will you persist in regarding yourself as an old maidf—you're not an old maid, Aggie— you're only forty—and that's young—compared to sixty, for instance. Anyway, cheer up—I've good news. I have found jolly old Woods. Not without difficulty, Aggie, and a perseverance almost heroic. 1 have been all over Europe after him—five countries and twenty-one cities, and at last, yesterday evening, staggering into the Savoy for a quick one before dinner 1 spotted him. I recognized him at once. With him there were seven or eight other famous American Managers. I met them all—one called Zicgfeld, a couple called Shubert, one or two Selwyns, several Flarrises, and two delightful Scotch fellows, Macdonald and Bergdorf. Bergdorf wasn't really a manager, but a sort of agent and he took a great fancy to me and said, "Lord Bunne—you stick by me, kid." (Quaint, eh Aggie!) He said he could do anything for me in America. Very useful fellow, Bergdorf. They all had drinks with me and then Bergdorf whispered to me to invite them to dinner. 1 whispered, "All right," and he whispered, "I'll do it for you and you can give me the money—I know what they like." So Bergdorf invited everyone to dinner and ordered quite a lavish meal, and showed jollv good taste about the champagne. Then he suggested Chariot's Revue and all the managers applauded and said, "At the boy, Bergdorf,"

and old Bergdorf whispered to me, "I'll get the scats, Count, and you can give me the money." So I gave him the money and he got two or three boxes and off we went. After the show Bergdorf insisted on taking us to the Embassy for supper. Of course I gave him the money for that, too, because I was really the host, although Bergdorf didn't mention that. He said it would look like publicity, rather vulgar, and all that. I liked him for that, Aggie.

So you sec it was a jolly successful little evening, even if it did cost a hundred pounds. And when one's broke, Aggie, what's a hundred pounds more or less, what? Besides I met Bergdorf.

1 forgot to say, I had a little chat with Mr. A1 Woods during the show, but it wasn't verv successful. When 1 said for the third time that I wanted to go to America he said I ought to sec the Grand Canyon. And I said I wasn't going to travel, I was going on the stage. And Mr. Woods slapped me on the back and laughed heartily, and the other managers laughed a good deal, too, and Woods said he always knew Englishmen had a wonderful sense of humour, and changed the subject. I didn't think I'd been particularly funny. However you'd be surprised what Americans laugh at.

Anyway I've got Bergdorf. I may say I've got him in the hollow of my hand. Before I left him we'd agreed to sail together on Saturday on the Majestic. I'm going to get the tickets tomorrow. Bergdorf asked me to buy his at the same time. He's very busy and, only having been here a fortnight, doesn't know his way about much. And I want to be sure of having him with me. He's a very much sought after fellow. I've done pretty well, what? We'll soon be on our feet again.

Well, cheerio, Aggie old thing in case we don't meet again—I mean before I sail— nothing morbid you know.

Yours, etc.,

"Lord Bunne" (Don't you love it? ) P. S. A great idea, Aggie. Would you, if I could arrange it, care to marry Bergdorf? He's no beauty, but much more fun than our fertilizing friend. Send me a wire about it. What Ho!

Lord Frederick Bunne to the Honourable Angela Grenville, Hotel Splcndidc,

Le Touquct, France.

London,

July 17th.

Darling Angela:

Do forgive me for not having come over last week-end. But something very awkward has occurred. Something devilish awkward. Fact is, Aggie and 1 are broke—roughly speaking. Apart from the house in Grosvcnor Square, the place in Scotland, the old Manor House in Leicestershire, and a few bits and ends here and there, we haven't a red cent between us. Mv ridiculous lawyer never told me till theotherdav or I'd never have had the cheek to ask you to marry me. But Angela darling if only you'll wait a bit, we'll be able to soon—be married I mean. I'm just about to make a lot of money. Now don't laugh. I am going to work. Again don't laugh. I'm going on the stage in New York. Fact. I'm off tomorrow with a very important American Theatrical man.

(Contitiued on page 86)

(Continued from page 46)

Au revoir, darling,

Frederick.

Lord Frederick Bunne to Lady Agatha Bunne, at Bunne Castle.

On Board S.S. "Majestic".

July 21st.

Honoured Sister,

Yesterday I received the following Marconigram from you:—

"Are you mad Bergdorf sounds like revolting person your horrible suggestion appals and frightens me please Freddie see ship's doctor and catch next boat back." Now Aggie did you really send me that message? If so you have added insult to injury by saying such unkind things at two shillings a word—especially when we're broke. You're really mistaken old dear. Bergdorf is a

charming fellow. He sits quietly in the smoking room most of the dav and we have a spot together now and then. At night he gets up a little Baccarat table which is great fun even if one does always lose. I was never lucky at cards. Bergdorf, however, is luck itself. He nearly always wins and that's the kind of fellow to stick to. So you see how wrong you are.

I've been introduced to a Miss Constance Talmadge—she's a girl that acts in the cinein? and also Miss Marv Pickford and Mr. Douglas Fairbanks —they're in the cinema too and I know I've heard their names before somewhere.

I go bathing in the pool every day with the cinema people. We have no end of fun—water polo and what not. Then cocktails. Mae wears a red bathing suit. It goes well with her hair, which is very golden.

Here's how old darling,

Freddy.

Lord Frederick Bunne to the Honourable Angela Grenville, at Le Touquet, France.

This is a picture of the ship.

F.B.