5.0 out of 5 stars
AN AMERICAN IN LONDON, October 20, 2011
This review is from: Shopping, Seduction & Mr Selfridge (Paperback)
This is a fascinating account of the life and times of Harry Gordon Selfridge. It covers not just his career, but the changing fashions and world events that accompanied it, and the twin passions that fuelled his existence, and led ultimately to his downfall. The author lays bare Harry's double life; he was a widower with four children, and always appeared to be a very correct Edwardian gentleman. He never exercised droit de seigneur in the store, but his private life was a different matter, and the story is peppered with the names of showgirls on whom he lavished his affections, and showered with gifts.
Lindy Woodhead is an excellent guide on matters sartorial and cosmetic, but when it comes to the showbiz side of the story she is less assured. In 1910, we're informed, the public was dancing to big-band music, then buying phonograph wax cylinders to play the music at home (soon superseded by pressed discs in cardboard sleeves, courtesy of Columbia Records). In reality, the big-band genre did not appear for a further two decades, and the wax cylinder was already losing ground to the gramophone record by the turn of the century. Sleeves appeared around 1910 with the introduction of double-sided 78s, but the cardboard ones came courtesy of the retailer, manufacturers like Columbia and HMV provided paper sleeves.
On the subject of records, whilst it's true that sides for the Key label, which is mentioned on page 211, were selected by Christopher Stone and pressed by Decca, it's stretching a point to say that these were the top dance band hits of the day, recorded under the store's own label. The label used masters from Panachord and Winner, and only about thirty were issued, during 1933/34, usually under pseudonyms. Christopher Stone also selected records for the Mayfair label, which could be obtained in exchange for Ardath cigarette coupons. When the scheme foundered in 1933, Selfridge purchased the outstanding stock which went on sale in the store. .
The musical shows referred to on page 123 should be shown as "Hullo Rag-Time!" and "Hullo Tango!". Victor Silvester is described on page 160 as "the undisputed king of the Black Bottom" which, for a pioneer of strict tempo, seems highly improbable. There were quite a few jazz band recordings of "Fascinating Rhythm" but Jelly Roll Morton did not number amongst them, despite the claim on page 180. I doubt whether you'd have caught either Sophie Tucker or Paul Whiteman's star musicians at the 43 Club. Reference is made from page 102 on to the Kit-Cat Club, spelt incorrectly with two Ks. The French Radio Normandie (spelt thus) was not a pirate radio station.
The author seems confused about the status of the various venues where dance bands played, and on page 211 lumps the Café de Paris and the Embassy (Club) in with the 43 and the Silver Slipper. The first two were amongst the top of the range West End hotels and restaurants, which provided residencies for such as Ambrose, Roy Fox and Lew Stone. The last two were drinking clubs which evaded licensing laws by means of bottle parties. Musicians keen on late night jam sessions might gravitate to the latter when their more up-market occupations had finished for the evening, but there was a clear distinction.
Syncopated jazz was a feature of the twenties, and had been replaced by more homogenous arrangements long before the "swing time" (sic) sound as perfected by Benny Goodman's orchestra (not to mention Artie Shaw, Casa Loma, etc). Also on page 243, there are two Ds in Richard Rodgers
The story of Kate Meyrick, who ran the infamous 43 Club in Gerrard Street, is touched upon only briefly. Her objective was to fund her daughters' education, and three of them married peers of the realm. Mrs. Selfridge herself seems somewhat neglected, and it's worth mentioning that in 1908 she visited Florence, together with daughters Rosalie and Violette. There they spent some time practising the harp, under the tutelage of Professor Giorgio Lorenzi. On their return to England they were accompanied by his son, Mario, who then gave recitals in London. After the First World War he began playing in dance bands, and between 1935 and 1938 made a series of recordings under the title of Mario "Harp" Lorenzi & his Rhythmics.
I have digressed from the book itself, and will make amends by recommending it wholeheartedly. Despite the odd solecism, it is a compelling slice of social history. My only regret is that the finale is such a tragic one. Harry treated the store as his personal fiefdom, despite the fact that Selfridge was a public company. When nemesis came, in the shape of a new appointment to the board, retribution was merciless. For all his faults Harry did not deserve the treatment that was meted out to him. Weighed in the balance, his achievements far outstripped his failings, and I think he would be extremely gratified that Lindy Woodhead has gone to such trouble to set the record straight.
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