Coward 101
Noël
Coward: Biographical Sketch
by John
Kenrick
Childhood
His
birthplace still stands, an attached brick house in Teddington, a quiet suburban
village near London, England. One look at it would convince you that great
things can start in the most unassuming places.
Noël
Pierce Coward was born on December 19, 1899, and received his first name
because Christmas was just days away . He was the son of Arthur and
Violet Veitch Coward. Arthur was an unsuccessful piano salesman with little
personal drive, so family finances were often shaky. Violet had seen her first
son die as an infant, so she was fiercely devoted to Noël and did her best to
gloss over their genteel poverty. Noël 's younger brother Eric suffered
from chronic poor health that kept him in the background for most of his short
life. From day one, Noël was the family's star attraction. A basically healthy
child, Noël survived several accidents in which fate seemed to intercede on his
behalf. Once while playing on a beach, a broken bottle severed an artery in his
foot. The only person in sight had just completed first aid training, and was
able to save the boy's life. Such strokes of luck later earned Noël the nickname
"Destiny's Tot."
From an
early age, Noël was intelligent, temperamental, and an instinctive performer,
making his first stage appearances in community concerts at age seven. He loved
to sing and dance and threw frightful tantrums if he was not summoned to perform
for guests. His formal education consisted of a few years at the Chapel Royal
Choir School (which he despised) and some dance lessons (which he vastly
preferred). In time, his voracious reading habits and keen sense of observation
more than made up for his lack of schooling.
Coward
excelled in amateur talent shows. With his mother's encouragement, he launched
his professional acting career at the age of 12, making his London debut as
Prince Mussel in a children's show called The Goldfish. He appeared in
several West End productions with the popular comic actor-manager Charles
Hawtrey, and played the "lost boy" Slightly in Charles Frohman's annual
production of Peter Pan. The precocious Coward later admitted to
having his first sexual experience at age 13 with fellow child actor Philip
Tonge. However, his closest adolescent friendship was with aspiring actress and
author Esme Wynne, who shared such intense conversations with him that
they sometimes bathed together so as not to interrupt a line of thought. Coward
and Wynne also exchanged clothes on occasion, strolling through London in
reversed gender. In time, their friendship faded, but their pranks and witty
banter would inspire material in many of Coward's future plays.
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Meeting High Society
In the
early 1900s, England was a terribly class-conscious society. As a boy actor born
to relatively poor parents, Noël would have normally have been snubbed by the
upper classes. However, his professional and social ambitions were insatiable,
and Coward's extraordinary determination and charm won him an entree into the
chicest circles.
Noël 's
social ascendancy began thanks to his youthful friendship with artist Philip
Streatfield. We know they were close and that Streatfield had a taste for
young boys – the rest is anyone's guess. Before wartime illness drove
Streatfield to an early death, he asked wealthy socialite Mrs Astley Cooper
to take Coward under her wing. She made the boy a frequent guest at her country
estate, ignoring any complaints about the presence of such a lower class child.
Butlers and maids, formal meals, riding and hunting – Coward thrived in this
sophisticated environment, his first taste of the elegant world he would one day
immortalize in his finest comedies. During his weekends at the Cooper estate,
Coward encountered the writings of Saki, the pen name of Hector Hugh Munro.
These witty short stories frequently centred on the wealthy, cynical young men
whose world would be pulverized by World War I. Coward would essentially pick up
where Saki (who would die in the war) left off.
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Wartime Nightmare
Coward was
too young to be drafted when the war broke out in 1914, so he appeared in
several plays, building his professional reputation. His first screen role was
in D W Griffith's Hearts of the World (1917), where he spent several
scenes following silent star Lillian Gish around with a wheelbarrow. Just as
Noël 's acting career was showing real promise, he was drafted (or "called-up")
for military duty in 1918. He used his connections to get an assignment to light
duty in the Artists Rifles corps, but was thoroughly miserable. A minor head
injury incurred during a drill set him into a complete nervous collapse. After
nine months of service spent mostly in hospital, a sympathetic doctor helped
Coward obtain an honourable medical discharge. Although relieved to be a
civilian again, Noël found that the demand for his acting talents had
evaporated. He continued to audition, but put an increasing amount of energy
into playwriting and composing. He also sold short stories to several magazines
to help make ends meet.
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Struggle
Coward had
extraordinary self-confidence, writing with amazing speed and never letting
rejection seriously discourage him. Mrs. Coward turned the family's London home
into a boarding house, working tirelessly so Noël could pursue his theatrical
dreams. Noël 's father, no longer employed, seemed contented to let his wife
make the decisions.
Coward's
remarkable self-possession saw him through many a sticky situation, even at this
early stage. When he arrived at a party in full evening attire, only to find the
other guests in casual clothes, he paused barely a moment before saying, "Now, I
don't want anybody to be embarrassed." It was during these years of
struggle that Coward first met Lorn McNaughtan, a woman who's sense of
organization and salty language made her the perfect choice to be Noël 's
private secretary – a role she would fill until her death more than forty years
later.
I
Leave It To You (1920) was Coward’s first full length play produced in
the West End, with Noël in a leading role – quite an accomplishment for a lad of
21. The brief run brought encouraging reviews, whetting Coward's appetite for
more. However, most London producers were unwilling to gamble on a playwright
Coward's age. So he looked across the Atlantic for possible salvation. In the
summer of 1921, he scraped together enough money for steamship passage to New
York, convinced America would embrace his work. No such luck! He spent a steamy
summer roaming Manhattan, scraping by with the income from a few short stories,
and occasionally wondering why he had ever left England. Coward made a slew of
valuable new friends, including the then-unknown actors Alfred Lunt and
Lynn Fontanne. They optimistically made a pact to appear with Noël in one
of his plays after they had all earned full stardom – an agreement that would
benefit all three of them in years to come.
Coward
learned about the American theatre's fast paced performing style, a refreshing
change from the stodgy approach of most British productions. He also spent many
evenings in the Manhattan home of playwright Hartley Manners and his wife, the
eccentric actress Laurette Taylor. Their over-the-top theatrical
lifestyle eventually inspired one of Coward's greatest hits, Hay Fever.
A
sympathetic friend arranged for Coward to return to England, where his luck took
a clear turn for the better. The London production of his play The Young
Idea (1923) was a mild success, with Coward playing one of the lead
roles. That same year, producer Andre Charlot featured several of Noël 's songs
in the hit revue London Calling. While all this was happening, Noël put
the finishing touches on a daring drama that would change his career – and his
life – forever.
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The Big Break
Coward
shrewdly decided his next project should involve a controversial topic, one
guaranteed to attract publicity. He wrote, directed and starred in The
Vortex (1924), a searing look at sexual vanity and drug abuse among the
upper classes. A middle-aged socialite with a foolish penchant for extramarital
affairs with younger men is violently confronted by her cocaine-snorting son
Nicky (played by Coward). When most producers refused to consider such a lurid
project, the small Everyman Theatre in suburban London agreed to take it on. But
resources were limited, and it was up to Noël to raise the money and produce the
show himself. When the female star dropped out just days before the premiere,
veteran actress Lillian Braithwaite stepped in and learned the part with
amazing speed.
On the
opening night of The Vortex, the audience was both shocked and
fascinated, and Coward got so carried away during a confrontation scene that he
gashed his hand on stage. Without breaking character, he wrapped the wound in a
prop handkerchief and played on. At the end, Coward and Braithwaite received a
wild ovation. The combination of fiery acting and scandalous subject matter made
The Vortex the talk of London. Other plays had examined drug abuse, but
not among the rich and powerful. The production soon moved to a larger theatre
for an extended run, making the long-suffering Coward an "overnight" sensation.
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Stardom
Coward knew
the value of publicity. Although he still enjoyed a respectable lifestyle, he
was more than willing to be portrayed as a dissolute playboy by the popular
press. One photo taken of him propped up in bed one morning made him look
half-drugged. The ensuing uproar delighted Noël . He wasn't about to complain
about anything that helped make his name a household word all over England.
Within a year, Coward had several plays running in London and songs featured in
Andre Charlot's revues on both sides of the Atlantic. He was acclaimed as one of
"the bright young things," a generation of young writers and artists who brought
a world-weary perspective to the post war arts. He maintained an elegant art
deco studio apartment on Gerald Road in London. Coward's stylish wardrobe made
him a trendsetter in men’s fashion, a distinction he retained for the rest of
his life.
During the
London run of The Vortex, Coward met Jack Wilson, a handsome
American stockbroker who became his lover and business manager for the next
decade. Blinded by love, he overlooked Wilson's heavy drinking and blatant
stealing – and he demanded that everyone else in his circle overlook these
things too. To make his commitment clear, Coward purchased Goldenhurst Farm
in Kent, renovated the buildings and moved his parents and Wilson there in 1926.
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The Breaking Point
With the
success of The Vortex, Coward was suddenly in demand. Over the two years
he spent starring in the London and New York production, as well as an extended
American tour, Coward took on a stream of demanding projects. Coward wrote the
hilarious comedy Hay Fever (1925), which triumphed in London but
failed in New York, and the hit West End revue On With The Dance
(1925). He also turned out Fallen Angels (1925), Easy Virtue
(1925), The Queen Was in the Parlour (1926) and The Rat Trap
(1926). Most of these plays were at least partially successful, but he was
working at an unbearable pace. Three weeks into the run of The Constant Nymph
in 1926, Coward collapsed on stage. At the insistence of his doctors, he forced
himself to leave on an extended vacation. Noël 's nerves were so frazzled that
he was delirious with fever by the time he reached Hawaii. Friends got his
proper care, then sequestered him in a private beach house, where he spent
several weeks lying in the sun and reassessing his life. During this much needed
rest, he dashing off just one song – the wistful "A Room With a View."
Coward's
comedy The Marquis (1927) opened in his absence, and was a mild success.
On his return to England, he wisely avoided performing for more than a year and
focused on his writing. However, two of his weakest plays were produced in
London during the autumn of 1927, with disastrous results. The Mayfair comedy
Home Chat closed in a matter of weeks, but Sirocco had one of the
most infamous opening nights in theatrical history. The audience responded to
this sordid tale of free love among the wealthy with jeers and catcalls,
breaking out into fistfights after the final curtain. Refusing to give in to
fear, Coward faced the mob at the stage door, where they spat at him. He reacted
with extraordinary calm, and the next day insisted on dining at The Ivy (a
restaurant frequented by the theatrical community) as if nothing remarkable had
happened. But he learned that the same popular press that fanned the fire of his
popularity could turn on him without warning, and viciously too. He developed a
warier attitude towards the press, and kept them at a healthier distance for the
remainder of his life.
Coward's
The Marquise was produced in London and New York in 1927. He wrote and
directed the London revue This Year of Grace (1928), and co-starred with
Bea Lillie in the New York production several months later.
In a
nostalgic mood, Coward wrote and directed the romantic operetta
Bittersweet (1929). The plot involved an ill-fated love affair in
Vienna, and the lush score included the sentimental waltz "I'll See You Again."
London audiences were enchanted, and the West End production enjoyed a long run.
However, Florenz Ziegfeld’s New York production had the bad luck to open
just weeks after the Wall Street crash of 1929, and rave reviews were not enough
to keep the show open beyond a few months. Although Coward was not affected
directly by the Great Depression, the world underwent a series of violent
changes. Coward's challenge was to continually find new ways to keep the world
amused.
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Public and Private
Lives
Coward
prospered through the worst of the Great Depression, enjoying a lifestyle most
people could only dream about. He loved to travel, and frequently went on
extended journeys to escape the pressures of show business. During one 1929 stay
in Singapore, he awoke with a mental image of long-time friend Gertrude
Lawrence in a white gown. He began writing immediately, and within a matter
of days wrote Private Lives (1930). This biting comedy involved
Elyot and Amanda Chase, a quarrelsome divorced couple who reunite while
honeymooning with new spouses, running off to resume their tempestuous
relationship. He co-starred in it with Lawrence and young Laurence Olivier,
playing to packed houses in both London and New York. To avoid exhausting
himself, Noël limited himself to no more than three months of performances in
London, and the same in New York. No matter how much producers begged for longer
commitments, he stuck to this policy for the rest of his career and never
regretted it.
Always
looking to do something unexpected, Coward next wrote and directed
Cavalcade (1931), a spectacular stage drama that followed the lives of
two London families (one rich, one poor) from 1899 to 1930. Through it all
passed the “cavalcade” of recent British history – two wars, Queen Victoria's
funeral, the seaside joys of Brighton, a Gaiety Theatre musical and even the
sinking of the Titanic – each seen in the context of the character's lives.
Acclaimed on the London stage, the film version won the Academy Award for Best
Picture in 1933. (Forty years later, the TV series Upstairs, Downstairs
paid affectionate homage to Cavalcade by using some of the same character
names.)
Now at the
peak of his popularity, Coward could seemingly do no wrong. He wrote and
directed the London revue Words and Music (1932), which included "Mad
Dogs and Englishmen" and the tortured ballad "Mad About the Boy." He then wrote
and directed one of his most daring plays, Design For Living (1933),
co-starring with friends Alfred Lunt and Lynn Fontanne. It
involved a bisexual romance between two men and a woman – an unspeakable subject
in those days. The topic and the stellar cast guaranteed sold-out houses for
every night of the limited Broadway run. That same year, he wrote, directed and
co-starred with French soprano Yvonne Printemps in the London and New
York productions of Conversation Piece (1933), another romantic
costume operetta. He wrote, directed and starred in the London and New York
productions of Tonight at 8:30 (1936), a demanding set of nine
one-act plays and musicals performed in repertory. One of the most memorable
featured Coward and co-star Gertrude Lawrence as The Red Peppers, a
mediocre husband and wife music hall team who bicker backstage and pull
themselves together for their onstage act.
By the late
1930s, Jack Wilson's increasingly heavy drinking and questionable business
practices permanently soured his romance with Noël . After their breakup, Wilson
married, partially to spite Coward. Despite this, Noël maintained a friendship
with his former lover, and frequently provided a sympathetic ear to Wilson's
long-suffering wife Natasha. Jack's poor management of Coward's American
business affairs eventually forced Noël to replace him with new agents. Wilson
became a successful director, staging such hits as Kiss Me Kate before
drink ruined him. But there is little question that Wilson used Coward
shamelessly. Much as Coward regretted the end of this long-term romance, the
outbreak of war in Europe soon forced him to focus his attention on more
pressing matters.
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World War II
When
Britain declared war on Germany and Italy in 1939, Coward was determined to make
up for his embarrassing efforts in the previous war. After serving for a brief
time as a secret agent in Paris, he entertained troops in Europe, Africa and the
Far East, frequently covering the expenses himself. In 1942, he turned out a
trio of hit plays, including the semi-autobiographical comedy Present
Laughter (1942) and the cockney drama This Happy Breed (1942).
His biggest
wartime hit was Blithe Spirit (1942), a comedy about a novelist
who's research into the occult brings back the ghost of his first wife –
plaguing the novelist, his outraged second wife, and a daffy spiritualist. The
play proved one of Coward's most popular successes, with character actress
Margaret Rutherford winning stardom as the eccentric Madame Acarti. She
repeated her role in a superb film version three years later.
Coward
wrote, produced, directed and starred in the film In Which We Serve
(1942), a naval drama which vividly depicted the heroism of a British
destroyer crew facing the horrors of torpedo warfare. The then-unknown David
Lean acted as co-director. Coward played the captain, a character based on
close friend Lord Louis Mountbatten. Some critics complained that it was
hard to accept the effete Noël Coward as a naval commander, but the film won
deserved acclaim in Britain and the US. While Coward was entertaining troops
overseas, he authorized Lean to adapt and direct film adaptations of This
Happy Breed (1944) and Blithe Spirit (1945). Lean followed these by
adapting one of Coward's one-act plays into the moving film Brief
Encounter (1945), a dark wartime romance that is still justly considered
one of the finest film dramas of the 1940s.
When London
celebrated Germany's surrender in 1945, Coward took part in the merriment but
couldn't help feeling a degree of unease. As he explained it in the second
instalment of his autobiography –
There was,
as in all celebrations of victory, an inevitable undertow of sadness. Parades
generate only a superficial gaiety, because we all know that they cannot last,
and although this was the end of the war, it was far from the end of the world's
troubles. Japan was still unconquered and even when she was vanquished there was
still the future to be fought. - Noël Coward, Future Indefinite (New
York: Doubleday & Co, 1954), p. 332
If Coward
could have foreseen just how much of a battle the post-war years would be for
him professionally and personally, he might very well have headed back to that
Hawaiian beach house for another extended stay. As it is, he braved through
everything until his long-overdue recognition as a living treasure.
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Dark Years
The years
following the war were difficult for Coward. The army had requisitioned his
beloved Goldenhurst during the war and left it a shambles. Post-war rationing
made repairs impossible. So he purchased and renovated a cottage at the base of
the White Cliffs of Dover. There he continued to turn out plays and musicals.
Other than the London revue Sigh No More (1945), most of these works met
with failure. Coward was understandably confused. He knew instinctively that his
writing was better than ever. But tastes had changed, and the same critics who
had previously praised Coward now dismissed his work as frivolous and out of
date. In an age that was newly obsessed with realism, Coward's wit was dismissed
as out of date. Some even suggested he should change his style. But how could
critics expect him to be anything but Noël Coward?
When
British post-war taxes became crippling, Coward made the difficult but necessary
choice to become an expatriate. He relocated briefly to Bermuda before settling
in Jamaica. The first of many British tax exiles, Coward was viciously attacked
in the press as a traitor, and spiteful politicians saw to it that his
well-deserved knighthood was delayed for decades. He had served his country
selflessly during the war, only to see that country tax him mercilessly and
calumniate his name afterwards. A strange way for Britain to treat the
quintessential Englishman of the 20th Century!
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New Beginnings
It was
during these difficult years that Coward fell in love with South African actor
Graham Payne. As a young boy, Payne had appeared in one of Coward's
revues. When they met again in 1945, Payne was a handsome young man. Mutual
attraction apparently did the rest. Coward hoped to make Payne a star and
featured him in several important London productions. Although Payne had an
abundance of loyalty and genuine affection for Coward, he lacked Noël 's drive
and star quality and would never reach the heights Noël had foreseen for him. As
to their private life, Payne admits that they both had "brief encounters" with
others, but they remained devoted companions.
In the
mid-1950s, Coward found a new audience in America. A 1955 nightclub engagement
in Las Vegas proved a surprise sensation, drawing stellar audiences and
resulting in a hit live recording. This led to a series of network television
appearances on CBS, including a memorable two-person special with Mary Martin
called Together With Music (1955) -- Coward wrote and directed the
show, setting a new standard for small screen entertainment. He next starred
with Claudette Colbert, Lauren Bacall and Mildred Natwick in a televised
adaptation of Blithe Spirit (1956). With the profits from these ventures,
Coward expanded his home in Jamaica and purchased a chalet in tax-friendly
Switzerland. Coward's chalet in Les Avant became his primary home, but he still
spent part of every year at Firefly Hill in Jamaica. He also made annual visits
to Britain and the USA, supervising new productions and catching the latest
shows and films.
Coward
channelled his long-time contempt for artistic pretension into Nude With
Violin (1956), a comedy that starred John Gielgud in London and Coward
himself in New York one year later. Look After Lulu (1958) and Waiting
in the Wings (1959) continued a string of deftly written comedies that
delighted audiences but met with maddening critical disdain. Undaunted, Coward
carried on. Commuting across and between the continents, he was one of the
brightest jewels in the new international "jet set.” While Coward kept his
homosexual private life a scrupulously private matter, he couldn't resist
dropping the occasional hint. During a 1956 television interview, journalist
Edward R Murrow asked if Coward did anything to relax, to which Noël responded,
"Certainly, but I have no intention of discussing it before several million
people."
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Coward Critiques
Coward
caused a furore in 1961 with a series of articles in The London Times
criticizing the new "kitchen sink" school of playwrights, and questioning the
virtues of method acting. Although he had built his success on innovation and
titillation, he calmly insisted that something more was needed to make a lasting
contribution to modern drama. Coward wrote that the first purpose of every play
was to entertain, urging new dramatists to –
Consider
the public . . . coax it, charm it, interest it, shock it now and then if you
must, make it laugh, make it cry, make it think, but above all dear pioneers, in
spite of indiscriminate and largely ignorant critical acclaim, in spite of
awards and prizes and other dubious accolades, never, never, never bore the
living hell out of it.
While some
younger playwrights protested that this "old man" had no business passing
judgment on their work, the public reaction was overwhelmingly supportive of
Coward's position. He dismissed the attacks, and no doubt enjoyed rattling a few
bloated egos.
Coward's
final musicals had much to offer, but did not catch on with the public. Sail
Away (1960) gave Elaine Stritch one of the finest stage vehicles of her
career, but critics dismissed this amusing musical comedy about romance aboard a
cruise ship as a relic of another time. The Girl Who Came to Supper
(1963) was a witty adaptation of the Terrence Rattigan's The Sleeping Prince,
but stellar performances by Jose Ferrer, Florence Henderson and Tessie O'Shea
were not enough to prevent critics from harping on the show's vague similarity
to My Fair Lady.
Coward had
better results with several non-theatrical ventures. His delightful comic novel
Pomp and Circumstance offered a giddy look at life in a tropical British
colony. He also found new popularity on the big screen, making scene-stealing
appearances in Our Man In Havana, Around the World in Eighty Days
and other films. When a team of Americans adapted Coward's Blithe Spirit
into the musical High Spirits (1964), he was so pleased with the
results that he directed it – with an unaccredited assist from Gower Champion.
Thanks in large part to hilarious performances by Tammy Grimes and old
friend Beatrice Lillie, (who dominated the show as a singing Madame
Acarti), High Spirits was a success. It marked Coward's last direct
involvement in a Broadway production. A London version produced the following
year did not fare nearly as well.
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Renaissance
A 1963
revival of Private Lives took London by storm, sparking renewed interest
in Coward's plays on both sides of the Atlantic. Revivals and TV productions
followed, and Coward was so encouraged that he wrote and starred in the London
production of three new one-acts called Suite In Three Keys (1966). This
included Song at Twilight, the story of an aging author who fears his
homosexuality will be exposed. This was daring stuff in the mid-1960s, and it
was well received. But Noël suffered memory lapses for the first time in his
acting career. Sympathetic co-stars helped him through, but he was horrified.
When doctors explained that years of self-indulgent eating, drinking and
chain-smoking had begun to take their toll, Coward retired from the stage. But
he remained active. When Richard Rodgers created a musical adaptation of Shaw's
Androcles and the Lion (1967) for American television, he cast long-time
friend Coward as Caesar. Coward also took on several small film roles, appearing
as the Witch of Capri in Boom (1967) and playing a criminal mastermind in
The Italian Job (1968).
With his
health in a steady decline, Coward cut back on all public appearances. But he
fully enjoyed the ongoing re-discovery of his works, a trend his friends
affectionately described as "Dad's Renaissance.” His 70th Birthday in 1969
became a national celebration in Britain, and the following year he was finally
granted his knighthood. Broadway followed this with a special Tony for Lifetime
Achievement in 1971. New revues of his songs and sketches enjoyed successful
runs in London (Cowardly Custard) and New York (Oh Coward!), and
he had the satisfaction of seeing critics and the public once more acclaim him
as a superlative writer, composer and actor. Coward wasn't surprised, really –
he still possessed the supreme confidence that had seen him through his early
challenges, and always knew the world would eventually come to its senses and
give him the recognition he deserved.
Even as the
Gay Liberation movement grew in the wake of New York's 1969 Stonewall riot,
Coward resolutely refused to end his lifelong public silence regarding his
sexual preferences. Part of it was no doubt rooted in his Edwardian upbringing –
there were things one simply did not discuss. When pressed by friends to "come
out," Coward refused, saying, "There are still a few old ladies in Worthing who
don't know."
In January
of 1973, Noël travelled to New York for a gala performance of the off-Broadway
revue Oh Coward! He arrived with long-time friend Marlene Dietrich on his
arm. Bent with age and illness, he remained the personification of elegance.
Friends sensed that he was declining, but no one realized it was his last public
appearance. In the early morning hours of Monday, March 26, 1973, Noël Coward
suffered a stroke at his home in Jamaica. A servant found him on his bathroom
floor, and was able to carry him to his bed. Insisting that there was no need to
wake his friends, Noël slipped away just before dawn.
His simple
gravesite lies on Firefly Hill. After years of unpardonable delay, Westminster
Abbey installed a memorial to him in its hallowed Poet's Corner. Graham Payne
has lovingly and faithfully supervised Coward's estate, preserving their home in
Switzerland much as Coward left it. Along with Coward's plays, songs and other
works, a never-ending stream of biographies, articles and documentaries keep
alive his image as the personification of wit and elegance – not a bad legacy
for a boy from Teddington.
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Hit No
