The Mad Boy, Lord Berners, My Grandmother, and Me by Sofka Zinovieff Page A
Authors: Sofka Zinovieff
Ads: Link
marrying and loving women had often had liaisons with men when they were young: Connolly, John Betjeman and Evelyn Waugh were all part of the famous 1920s Oxford set who entered into the homoerotic spirit of their alma mater.
Robert probably didn’t know much about these people – though he might have heard of the Russian Ballet – but he undoubtedly visited the Café Royal, Wilde’s old haunt on Regent Street that was still going strong. And he surely made use of the Savoy Turkish Baths, which were just along from his hotel in Jermyn Street. Known as a safe haven for the sort of gentlemen who could afford the price of admission, the baths were filled with men eager for assignations in the changing rooms or dark corners.
He may have been a Mad Boy, but Robert was never one of the camp ‘pansies’, nor the painted and scented ‘nancy-boys’, ‘West End poofs’ or ‘Dilly boys’ who frequented the many public toilets without attendants that were helpfully identified in For your Convenience: A Learned Dialogue Instructive to All Londoners and London Visitors.95 Whether or not he visited these conveniences – ironwork constructions that often had tiny holes so one could see who was approaching – is anyone’s guess. But the locations of the more popular venues were well known – the spacious one off Wardour Street with two entrances, or ‘Clarkson’s Cottage’ by Clarkson’s theatrical costume shop. Naturally, there were risks involved and the so-called ‘pretty police’ (official agents provocateurs) were a source of fear to all who engaged in ‘cottaging’. Robert at one point certainly worked in a Lyons Corner House, perhaps even the one on Coventry Street, by Leicester Square, ‘the absolute Mecca of the gay scene’ and one of queer London’s landmarks. Quentin Crisp was a habitué of the Lily Pond, a tearoom on the first floor, where two old ladies served tea and toast and turned a blind eye to the flirtatious behaviour of their male guests.96 It also seems likely that Robert would have made use of his Army contacts to meet willing young men, ‘something in uniform’, especially a red-coated Guardsman, who might be willing to go for ‘a walk in the park’. As J. R. Ackerley wrote, ‘It would be the blackest ingratitude to disparage the Guards. These brave soldiers are of incalculable use to a great many lonely bachelors in London.’ In his day, ‘A pound was the recognized tariff for the Foot Guards … The Horse Guards cost rather more.’97
It was perfectly acceptable to prefer boys in the circles in which Robert moved, but he was also interested in girls. At one point he was even engaged to the elegant and beautiful Kathleen Meyrick, four years his senior. She was already notorious, not for her own behaviour but for the sins of her mother. Kate Meyrick was an Irish-born mother of eight whose husband had left her and who became a hugely successful London nightclub owner in the 1920s. She believed that ‘men will pay anything to be amused’, and her post-war advocacy of the pursuit of ‘pure pleasure’ was still just as palatable for the young of the 1930s.98 The ‘Queen of Nightclubs’ ran the Silver Slipper on Regent Street, where the glass dance floor was illuminated from beneath with coloured lights, and little slippers filled with sweeties and novelties were handed to guests on the opening night. ‘Meyrick’s Marvellous Maids’ were the hostesses, carefully chosen for their good looks, their exquisite dancing and their charm.
According to Robert’s family, he was not only engaged to Kathleen but lived in the Meyrick household and ‘helped run a nightclub’. Although no details remain, it seems logical to surmise that the club was the 43, where many members and guests would have been his friends anyway. The 43 was Mrs Meyrick’s greatest triumph. A large rambling place that occupied six floors at 43 Gerrard Street in Soho, it was depicted by Evelyn Waugh in A Handful of
Robert probably didn’t know much about these people – though he might have heard of the Russian Ballet – but he undoubtedly visited the Café Royal, Wilde’s old haunt on Regent Street that was still going strong. And he surely made use of the Savoy Turkish Baths, which were just along from his hotel in Jermyn Street. Known as a safe haven for the sort of gentlemen who could afford the price of admission, the baths were filled with men eager for assignations in the changing rooms or dark corners.
He may have been a Mad Boy, but Robert was never one of the camp ‘pansies’, nor the painted and scented ‘nancy-boys’, ‘West End poofs’ or ‘Dilly boys’ who frequented the many public toilets without attendants that were helpfully identified in For your Convenience: A Learned Dialogue Instructive to All Londoners and London Visitors.95 Whether or not he visited these conveniences – ironwork constructions that often had tiny holes so one could see who was approaching – is anyone’s guess. But the locations of the more popular venues were well known – the spacious one off Wardour Street with two entrances, or ‘Clarkson’s Cottage’ by Clarkson’s theatrical costume shop. Naturally, there were risks involved and the so-called ‘pretty police’ (official agents provocateurs) were a source of fear to all who engaged in ‘cottaging’. Robert at one point certainly worked in a Lyons Corner House, perhaps even the one on Coventry Street, by Leicester Square, ‘the absolute Mecca of the gay scene’ and one of queer London’s landmarks. Quentin Crisp was a habitué of the Lily Pond, a tearoom on the first floor, where two old ladies served tea and toast and turned a blind eye to the flirtatious behaviour of their male guests.96 It also seems likely that Robert would have made use of his Army contacts to meet willing young men, ‘something in uniform’, especially a red-coated Guardsman, who might be willing to go for ‘a walk in the park’. As J. R. Ackerley wrote, ‘It would be the blackest ingratitude to disparage the Guards. These brave soldiers are of incalculable use to a great many lonely bachelors in London.’ In his day, ‘A pound was the recognized tariff for the Foot Guards … The Horse Guards cost rather more.’97
It was perfectly acceptable to prefer boys in the circles in which Robert moved, but he was also interested in girls. At one point he was even engaged to the elegant and beautiful Kathleen Meyrick, four years his senior. She was already notorious, not for her own behaviour but for the sins of her mother. Kate Meyrick was an Irish-born mother of eight whose husband had left her and who became a hugely successful London nightclub owner in the 1920s. She believed that ‘men will pay anything to be amused’, and her post-war advocacy of the pursuit of ‘pure pleasure’ was still just as palatable for the young of the 1930s.98 The ‘Queen of Nightclubs’ ran the Silver Slipper on Regent Street, where the glass dance floor was illuminated from beneath with coloured lights, and little slippers filled with sweeties and novelties were handed to guests on the opening night. ‘Meyrick’s Marvellous Maids’ were the hostesses, carefully chosen for their good looks, their exquisite dancing and their charm.
According to Robert’s family, he was not only engaged to Kathleen but lived in the Meyrick household and ‘helped run a nightclub’. Although no details remain, it seems logical to surmise that the club was the 43, where many members and guests would have been his friends anyway. The 43 was Mrs Meyrick’s greatest triumph. A large rambling place that occupied six floors at 43 Gerrard Street in Soho, it was depicted by Evelyn Waugh in A Handful of
Similar Books
