W.F. Frame Tells His Own Story

urn:iso:std:iso:639:ed-3:eng

28–29

text excerpt

The first music-hall that I ever visited was Davie Brown’s in Dunlop Street, Glasgow. It was the house of all the talent of the town. There I first made the acquaintance of Alfred G. Vance, Arthur Lloyd, Alf Milner, and other “star” comedians. But I gained admission to that hall in an altogether different manner than one would imagine.

I went to it one night as a prospective spectator, but was refused an entrance on account of my youth. […] I deceived a friend into lending me an overcoat.  The garment was a misfit, very much so, but it served the purpose, for under cover of it I passed into the hall.

Shades of Harry Clifton! He was one of the star artistes on that occasion. How I recall his memory now – the greatest song writer of his day and generation – a man with a charming personality that will ever be remembered by those who knew him; for to know him was to love and revere him. Even now in fancy I can hear the thunders of applause that nightly greeted his singing of that immortal song of his with the well-known chorus:―

“Waste not, want not, is a motto I would teach;
Let your watchword be despatch, and practice what you preach;
Never let your chances like sunbeams pass you by,
For you’ll never miss the water till the well runs dry.”

excerpt from 'W.F. Frame Tells His Own Story' pp. 28–29 (234 words)

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