ROY RENE as 'MO' c 1946 |
Mo had no sense of humour.He had a sense of fun and a superb sense of comedy that put him on top of the comedy pile in Australia for nearly fifty years, and on stage he was one of the funniest men in the world. He could get a laugh by a leer, a raised eyebrow or a sideways glance, and he could do practically anything he liked with an audience. He could make them laugh and he could make them cry. He loved to make them cry, because that exploited his gift for pathos, of which he was so proud. Referring to rival comics, he'd say, 'The other mugs can't do that, can they, pal? They haven't got my lovely pathos.'But his sense of humour was practically non-existent.
He had haunted brown eyes, a large beaked nose, thick rubbery lips and always wore a painted-on black beard. His stage attire was that of the traditional British music hall or North American vaudeville comedian –– a checkered suit, clunky oversized boots, a battered hat and even a flouncy woman's dress if the sketch he was appearing in at the time required him to wear one. But it was his voice that was his most characteristic feature and, many agreed, his greatest asset as a performer. 'It was high-pitched,' according to his friend, long-time scriptwriter and biographer Fred Parsons, 'with a lisp that would develop into a liquid splutter. It was a voice that would make the most banal line sound funny.'
It was also a voice that nearly every Australian man, woman and child instantly recognized and unreservedly adored between July 1916, when the new comedy team known as 'Stiffy and Mo' made their stage debut at Sydney's Princess Theatre, and 22 November 1954 when its owner –– Roy Rene, better known as 'Mo McCackie' or just plain 'Mo' –– finally succumbed to heart disease at home in his bed in the Sydney suburb of Kensington. For nearly forty years Rene (pronounced 'Reen' to rhyme with 'keen') had been the nation's favourite clown, an iconic figure in Australian showbusiness whose decidedly working class language and pugnacious demeanour made him the darling of those he affectionately, if not always respectfully, referred to as 'his mob.'
ROY RENE, 1915 |
The great irony of Rene's success was that he was the son of a Jewish immigrant ('a New Australian' as they would patronizingly be known in the post-World War Two era), a Dutch-born cigar maker named Hyam van der Sluys whose most fervent wish was that the fourth of his seven children would one day take over the family business. But young Harry, born in Adelaide on 15 February 1891 and legally known as 'Harry Sluice' for the rest of his life, had other ideas. At the age of ten, without bothering to inform either of his parents that he was doing it, he entered a local singing contest and won. (Offered the choice of ten shillings or a duck as his prize, the boy chose the duck, later selling it for twelve shillings and thus earning himself a two shilling profit.) He turned professional shortly afterwards, performing a duet with the female star of the pantomime Sinbad the Sailor at Adelaide's Theatre Royal under the name 'Boy Roy, the Singing Soprano.' This led to further engagements in charity concerts and, by the time he was thirteen, to another professional singing job, this time wearing blackface make-up in the then-popular (and not yet politically inappropriate) minstrel style, at the Adelaide Tivoli. His father's decision to move the family east to Melbourne shortly afterwards did nothing to dampen the boy's enthusiasm for the world of the stage. After working for a few weeks as an apprentice jockey –– fostering an interest in horse racing he would retain all his life courtesy of his brothers, both of whom went on to become bookmakers –– he was once again treading the boards, singing at the Bijou Theatre for Rickards Circuit manager Frank M Clark for the tidy sum (in 1904) of ₤3 per week.
It was nature, in the unpredictable form of puberty, which transformed Harry Sluice from a featured boy vocalist into a fledgling knockabout comic. At sixteen his voice broke, ending overnight the promising if not exactly glittering career of 'The Singing Soprano.' Having had ample opportunity to study the work of the many internationally famous and less well-known local comedians who passed through The Bijou and other Melbourne theatres each week he decided that he too could do that and set about re-inventing himself as a comic.
In 1910 he came to the attention of Melbourne impresario James Brennan, who liked his act enough to book him for his National Amphitheatre in Sydney as 'Roy Rene,' his newly-chosen stage name. (Rene was the name of a famous French clown whose act he'd seen and admired as a boy.) He had no trouble finding steady work with the National and other variety circuits –– this was the pre-television, pre-radio, pre-cinema era, when every town in every Australian city was home to at least one theatre providing live entertainment twice a day with ticket prices starting at an affordable sixpence –– and was soon performing regularly in Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane and Adelaide throughout 1911 and 1912, diversifying by occasionally accepting minor roles in legitimate or 'straight' plays. In 1912 he came to the attention of Benjamin and John Fuller, owners of the Fuller Circuit of theatres, due to his popular (and allegedly unplanned) impersonation of famed North American 'Hebrew comedian' Julian Rose. The Fullers liked him enough to send him 'across the pond' to New Zealand, where he worked in that nation's four major cities for most of that year. After returning to Australia he finally succeeded in meeting influential booker Harry Clay, for whom he worked in various parts of the country, both urban and rural, until the end of 1914 when the Fullers re-hired him for a touring company being formed by brother and sister musical comedians Albert and Maud Bletsoe.
Back in Sydney after appearing with the Bletsoe troupe in Brisbane, and working again at the Fuller-owned National Theatre on Castlereagh Street, Rene suddenly found himself in the employ of a new manager named Nat Phillips –– a writer, director, singer, acrobat and fellow clown who had been summoned east from Adelaide by the Fullers to take over the Bletsoe 'revusical' (a combination of revue and musical) after Albert and Maud departed in order to 'pursue new opportunities' (a polite way of disguising the fact that they'd been fired). Phillips immediately formed a new troupe composed almost entirely of performers who were already under contract to the Fuller brothers, retaining only two from the now-disbanded Bletsoe troupe.
One of these retained performers was the twenty-five year old Roy Rene. It was Philips –– ten years his senior and, unlike him, a performer who had found success both in Britain and on the Continent –– who decided that he and Roy should team up to form a double act. Dissatisfied with the name 'Phillips and Rene,' they were still struggling to find a better alternative when the doorman of the Sydney Tivoli suggested that they might like to give 'Stiffy and Mo' a try. They performed together as these characters in what was billed as 'Nat Phillips' Tabloid Musical Comedy Company,' a name that soon changed to 'Nat Phillips' Stiffy and Mo Revue Company' and then simply to 'Stiffy and Mo.'
Theatre poster, 1921 |
Phillips and Rene were a sensation and their success as a team was instantaneous. As historian Clay Djubal noted in his 2006 PhD dissertation: 'Much of the popularity accorded Stiffy and Mo was due not only to the comic situations they found themselves embroiled in but also because audiences recognized in them the traits of an Australian character type that both typified and celebrated the nationalistic ideals being infused into the wartime Australian identity –– namely mateship, loyalty, egalitarianism, larrikin attitudes (including practical jokes on mates) and an outright refusal to bow to authority figures. As the first truly urban Australian characters to be developed on the variety stage Stiffy and Mo not only captured the Australian popular culture's imagination but also played a significant role in boosting the popularity of the new Australian revusical genre which had begun to emerge around 1914/1915. Much of the duo's success, too, can be put down to the rapport which allowed them to work off each other in both written and improvised scenes.' The outbreak of World War One also played a crucial role in consolidating the team's popularity, with Australians looking more and more to homegrown talent to fill the void created by the enforced absence of imported British and North American artists.
But the partnership, successful though it was, was not without its tensions. Phillips was more or less the brains behind the operation, writing its sketches and developing, in the character of Stiffy, what was the first recognizably Australian comic figure to appear on an Australian stage. (He wore a South Sydney football jersey as part of his costume, an addition which no doubt endeared him to his urban working class audience, many of whom lived in this socially-deprived area and supported the mighty Rabbitohs.) Unusually for the time, he and Rene did not work as 'straight man' and 'comic,' but as equals, provoking and sharing the laughter between them. Although they remained partners until 1928 –– with a two year hiatus between 1925-1927 caused by what was purported to be a misunderstanding about money which saw Rene resume his solo career and even accept a legitimate acting role as a factory foreman in the play Give and Take, a role he by all accounts excelled in –– it was his performance as the obviously Jewish and linguistically-challenged Mo which began to attract the lion's share of attention from audiences and critics. His final split with Phillips, when it came in 1928, was less the result of personal acrimony than their mutual belief that the partnership had begun to grow stale and the time had come to split up the act. Although plans were later made for the pair to reunite for one last tour, these were abruptly curtailed by Phillips's death in June 1932.
Listen to The Sailors, the one and only gramophone recording made by STIFFY AND MO in 1927, from the online collection of THE NATIONAL FILM AND SOUND ARCHIVE.
SADIE GALE and ROY RENE, 1929 |
The gamble worked, with the show's manager Mike Connors soon taking over the nearby Sydney Opera House (not the iconic building on the harbour constructed in the 1970s, but the original theatre on George Street built in the nineteenth century) and renaming it the Sydney Tivoli. Rene performed here and then returned to Melbourne to appear in yet another revue called Brighter Days at his old stamping ground The Bijou. 'To those who could afford to see it,' Fred Parsons recalled, 'it offered two-and-a-half hours of comedy, music and pretty girls. It –– and similar shows –– played their part in making the unemployed forget how miserable they were. On the stage, they saw a seedy character called Mo who was obviously as broke as they were. They saw him apply for a job, and then lose it because he back-chatted the boss. They saw him order drinks that he had no hope of paying for, and they laughed when he suffered the consequences… And in those times a good laugh could help you forget that you had no job to go to the next morning.'
Film poster, 1934 |
Watch three short clips from Strike Me Lucky, the 1934 film starring ROY RENE and directed by pioneering Australian filmmaker KEN G HALL, featured in the online collection of AUSTRALIAN SCREEN.)
The end of World War Two also saw the end of what is now considered to be the Golden Age of Australian variety. With the Pacific now free of Japanese ships and foreign talent once again available and easy to import, the Tivoli's new manager David N Martin reinstated its pre-1939 policy of hiring big-name acts from overseas to headline its shows. This meant that there was less incentive to hire the local acts which had kept audiences laughing throughout the war years. (Nor did it help matters that there was no one there to champion their cause following the resignation of Wallace Parnell in 1944.) Unbelievably, one of the first casualties of Martin's anti-Australian hiring policy was Roy Rene, whose Tivoli contract was not renewed when it expired at the end of 1945.
In March 1946 the Sydney newspaper The Telegraph reported that audiences would not be able to see Mo on stage '…for at least a year. He has signed a contract,' the story revealed, 'to appear exclusively for the Colgate-Palmolive Radio Unit.' With material once again written for him exclusively by Parsons, it didn't take Rene long to find his feet as a radio performer –– a transition aided by the fact that, unlike his previous radio work, both Colgate Cavalcade and Calling The Stars were broadcast live in front of a studio audience. The enthusiastic response to his appearances on these programs gave Parsons the idea to write a regular weekly ten minute sketch for him that he decided to call McCackie Mansion.
Debuting on Tuesday 8 July 1947, McCackie Mansion soon became the most talked-about segment of Calling The Stars and, within a few months, the most popular comedy program, bar none, on Australian radio –– a short, sometimes surreal excursion to 'Number Thirteen Coffin Street' where Mo lived with his cheeky son Young Harry (Harry Griffiths) and was regularly visited by his greedy brother-in-law 'Orrible 'Erbie (Jack Burgess), his annoying neighbour Lasho (Don Lashwood) and a pseudo-refined, frail-voiced 'gent' known as Spencer the Garbageman (Harry Avondale). There were no female characters in the cast and the humour was outrageously camp for its time, with Mo finding what many thought to be his perfect comic foil in the delicate, sometimes pretentious Spencer (whose surname was eventually revealed to be Smellie). The program became so popular that it allowed Rene to make a brief return to the stage in 1949, headlining in a new revue titled McCackie Mo-ments at the King's Theatre in Melbourne. But it was radio that made 'Mo McCackie' a household name to millions of Australians and introduced Rene to a new generation of fans, many of whom had not been born when he'd been packing them in at the Tivoli twice a day. McCackie Mansion ran every Tuesday night until 1951 –– when Colgate-Palmolive stopped sponsoring variety programs in favour of sponsoring the game shows most housewives now seemed to prefer –– and introduced many distinctive expressions to the Australian vocabulary, including the still widely-used 'Pull your head in!' and 'Cop this!'. Other favourites included the perennial 'Strike me lucky!', 'You dirty, filthy beast!' and 'Fair suck of the saveloy!'. But there was a social message lurking beneath the flamboyant surface of Rene's comedy, best captured in this statement made by poet (and his soon-to-be ghostwriter) Max Harris: 'There he would be, leering, spitting, expostulating, and celebrating every ugly vulgarity to be found in a society rich only in inhibitions, self-delusions and respectable hypocrisies. You can laugh at the grotesque in front of you, he seemed to be saying, laugh at the sub-human stage Jew, but he is you. And I’m going to prove it. And he did. He and his audience laughed at the worst in themselves.'
It's tempting to speculate what might have happened to Rene had he taken the advice of many of those he worked with and tried his luck on the North American vaudeville circuit or in the British music halls. He certainly had his fans in these countries, with US comic legend Jack Benny and notable English actress Dame Sybil Thorndike both declaring, after seeing his act at the Tivoli in the 1940s, that he was among the very greatest stage comedians they had ever seen. Benny went so far as to state that, in his opinion, Roy Rene belonged in the same class as Chaplin –– the only one of his fellow clowns, incidentally, that the famously egotistical Rene was ever heard to praise. According to Fred Parsons, he was never eager to try his luck overseas. When one of his sisters, who lived in North America and reminded him how much a successful comedian could earn there, pressed him to take the plunge and book himself a ticket to Los Angeles Rene allegedly shook his head and said, 'Turn it up, love. Look what happened to Les Darcy and Phar Lap. They might make it a treble.' He died, of course, two years before television reached Australia, but it's not hard to agree with Parsons' statement that '…television wasn't made for Roy, nor he for it… In a way I'm glad he didn't live to try it. He knew very few failures, and the majority of these were in his days as a battler. He was fortunate that he went when still a big name, still an idol… Luckily for Roy, no one ever referred to him as a has-been. I don't think he could have stood that.' The shameful thing is that he's now in danger of becoming exactly that –– someone remembered, if he is at all, as a minor relic of a bygone era rather than as the incredibly gifted performer who stretched the boundaries of Australian comedy even as he was creating and defining it.
I would be delighted to hear from anyone who has any additional information about the life and career of ROY RENE (and especially from anyone with copies of McCackie Mansion and Strike Me Lucky they may be willing to share). I would also be grateful to hear from anyone with information to provide about the life and career of GEORGE WALLACE and the other forgotten stars of Australian variety and pre-1970s cinema. Please click on the 'View my complete profile' link located in the top right hand corner of the screen to find my email address.
'Don't be such an nwarp.''An nwarp? What's that?''That's a prawn spelled backwards!'
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