THE BATTLE OF THE PIERROTS.

ATHOUGH it is some years since I last visited West Kirkby, I shall always remember it as the scene of my first--and perhaps my greatest--theatrical "battle." Although the story I am about to set down is of no great importance, it shows to what lengths some promoters will go in order to make their show a success.

Twenty-five years ago, it occurred to me that the Pagoda Pavilion at West Kirkby would be an admirable headquarters for my concert party during the summer season. I was not discouraged when I learned that Adler and Sutton, two very well known concert party promoters of the period, had lost heavily the previous year, and when the owner of the Pagoda agreed to make some alterations in the size of the stage and the number of the stalls, I felt well pleased.

I booked the Pagoda from May until September--an unusually long season--and bought up every advertisement hoarding from West Kirkby to Birkenhead. I decided that if my show was to be a failure, it would not be through lack of advertising.

The first performance of the "Will Goldston Court Pierrots" proved a great success, and we continued to do two shows a day before well packed houses. Owing to my heavy preliminary expenses, I was unable to show a balance for the first six weeks, but I was content to bide my time. I saw that once my debts had been cleared, I should be able to make a handsome profit.

Towards the middle of June, a company called "The Rosettes" appeared at West Kirkby. I had not expected this, but was not unduly worried as my show had become thoroughly well established. But when I heard that "The Rosettes" had secretly booked my comedian and pianist, I began to have serious doubts as to the honesty of the rival promoter.

My first move was to telegraph to London for another comedian and pianist. These arrived before the date of the first performance of the "The Rosettes," and I was able to forestall my two "deserters" by giving them the sack. I held a hasty rehearsal one Monday morning, found my new pianist and comedian extremely satisfactory, and played to a successful matinée the same afternoon.

After the afternoon performance, I distributed a number of hand-bills amongst the audience, announcing that I intended to do a wonderful handcuff escape in the evening, and invited members of the Cheshire Police Force to attend free of charge. This caused something of a sensation, and the house was packed an hour before the evening performance was due to begin. That night "The Rosettes" took exactly five shillings.

So far the honours were mine in the "battle" and the rival troupe decided to change their tactics. At night, they employed several men to whitewash the following words along the main streets of the town:-- "'The Rosettes' are the only Concert Party worth seeing. The other show is a variety entertainment."

I countered this move by informing the police that it was illegal to deface the public streets in this manner. The following day my rivals were warned that if such a thing occurred again, the consequences would be extremely serious.

The next idea of "The Rosettes" was to send in a number of roughs at one of my evening performances. Fortunately, I had foreseen the possibility of this, and had engaged a number of the strongest and heaviest constables in the district. As soon as the roughs commenced to get noisy, they were thrown out, and the show proceeded quite smoothly.

By this time the rivalry between the two concert parties was the talk of the whole town. In order to create further excitement, the local hospital said they would award a Silver Cup to the party which was able to collect most money for the hospital funds on gala day.

I hired a horse and wagon, and toured the town, giving ten minute performances at the street corners. I was very anxious that my party should gain the Cup, for I knew it would be a splendid advertisement. In order to give myself a better chance--I make this fact public for the first time--I put a five pound note into my own collecting box. When the amounts were checked, it was found that my own party had collected exactly five pounds more than "The Rosettes."

The rival party were now getting desperate.

They brought down their prices of one shilling, ninepence, and sixpence, to threepence, twopence, and a penny. Had they been content to have left things like this, it is quite possible that their reduced prices would have attracted a considerable crowd. But they made one false step. On the following Sunday night, they pasted their own bills over my advertisements outside the Pagoda pavilion.

Very early the following morning I was told of their latest move. I went down to the Pagoda, and saw that none of my own bills was visible. There was no one about, so I decided to take a big risk.

First of all I knocked off the padlock of the front doors with a heavy stick. I then went inside the Pavilion, and smashed up all my own props and scenery. When this was done, I went to the police station and informed the inspector that the Pagoda had been wrecked by some unknown intruders."

To my surprise--and satisfaction--one of the policemen told me that he had seen the male members of "The Rosettes" leaving the Pagoda early in the morning. Whether he told me this out of sheer kindness of heart, or whether lie really imagined that he had seen my rivals, I do not know to this day.

Fortunately my gamble succeeded. When the news became known that "The Rosettes" had wrecked my show, I had all the public sympathy I required. At the end of the same week, the other party left the town in disgust, and for the rest of the season, the entertainment of the population and holiday makers of West Kirkby was left entirely to "Will Goldston's Court Pierrots."