Monday 14 January 2019


Marie Lloyd

Following on from my walk around Hoxton at the end of last year, I decided to write about one of its most famous residents.  Dubbed ‘The Queen of Music Hall’, Marie Lloyd was the first great female ‘stand-up’ comedian... and a true 19th century superstar!

The Wood family - Lloyd with her parents and 8 siblings

Born Matilda Alice Victoria Wood in 1870 in Plumber Street Hoxton, Marie Lloyd was the eldest of nine children. Always dramatic by nature, even as a child she loved being the centre of attention – so much so that she used to hang around graveyards at strangers’  funerals, weeping and wailing until all eyes were on her!
Eagle Tavern City Road- an early venue
Unsurprisingly, Matilda was soon attracted to the stage. Encouraged by her father she appeared with her sisters singing temperance songs in local missions and church halls. By the age of 16 she had changed her name and achieved stardom with her hit song: “The Boy I Love Is Up In The Gallery”.  She was already earning more than £100 a week as a top-of-the-bill artiste.
 
Lloyd epitomised cockney humour and character. Her songs (such as “Don’t Dilly-Dally” and “A Little of What You Fancy Does You Good”) reflected the trials and tribulations of the London poor with particular emphasis on the plight of working-class women. She was regularly accused of crudity – the lyrics of the Railroad Song, known to all as “The Girl Who’d Never Had Her Ticket Punched Before” appear innocent when read off the page but Marie Lloyd’s delivery, with its well-timed winks and pauses, was classic innuendo. The music hall format, which allowed her to ad lib and interact with her audience, was the perfect vehicle.

On stage in the 1890s
And as well as the trademark knowing smile and wink, Marie was also noted for her handstands and high kicks. As a boy, the writer Compton Mackenzie was taken to the show's opening night and admitted that he was "greatly surprised that any girl should have the courage to let the world see her drawers as definitely as Marie Lloyd."

These hints of naughtiness were what audiences really loved, but inevitably they brought Lloyd to the attention of the watch committee. However, she always countered their accusations of lewdness by saying that any immorality was in the minds of the complainants. She knew exactly what the crowd wanted. “They don't pay their sixpences and shillings at a music hall to hear the Salvation Army. If I was to try to sing highly moral songs, they would fire ginger beer bottles and beer mugs at me. I can't help it if people want to turn and twist my meaning”.  In 1912 she was omitted from the Royal Variety Performance for fear of offending the Royal party, but in typical style rented another theatre for the same night and played to sell-out audiences.
Lloyd was also no stranger to controversy off the stage. Her personal life was a mess, with three very public and unsuccessful marriages and two divorces. In 1913 she was refused entry into the USA (for “moral turpitude”) because she had shared a cabin on the voyage with the man who was to become husband number three, despite still being married to her first husband.  


Not only a superstar at home, Lloyd was also popular abroad and toured France, Belgium, America and Australia. Yet she never forgot her roots. Although highly-paid herself, she demonstrated solidarity with her lower-paid brethren. During the Music Hall Strike of 1907, when theatre managements tried to force lowly paid artists to work extra matinees for nothing and at the same time restrict their freedom, Lloyd contributed generously to the strike fund and regularly picketed theatres using non-union performers.

During World War 1 the army recruited in music halls and Marie enthusiastically supported this by singing songs like "I didn't like you much before you joined the army, John, but I do like you, cockie, now you've got your khaki on". She also toured factories and sang in many free concerts for the wounded. These tours and concerts were much appreciated by the public but she received no official recognition for her efforts, possibly because of her lewd reputation.
Marie Lloyd’s career declined after the First World War, by which time the intimate, often rowdy music-halls had been transformed into more refined and respectable “theatres of variety”. By the 1920s she was suffering repeated bouts of ill-health and had become alcohol-dependent.
Plaque in Graham Rd Hackney

Lloyd continued performing until a few days before she passed away in October 1922 at the early age of 52. She died three days after collapsing on stage at the Alhambra in Leicester Square, her erratic performance greeted with hoots of laughter by her unknowing fans.

Funeral procession 1922

Marie Lloyd’s funeral procession was testimony to her superstardom - Max Beerbohm wrote that London had not seen such a funeral since the death of the Duke of Wellington. The burial at Hampstead cemetery was attended by over 100,000 people. Pubs across the East End were draped in black crepe as a mark of respect. Tributes were paid by the ordinary people who had made up her audiences and more illustrious figures such as TS Eliot who insisted that Miss Marie Lloyd “had the capacity for expressing the soul of the people – which made her something quite unique”.



References:
The East End Nobody Knows Andrew Davies (1990)