Tommy did as he was bid. But the lawn wasn’t green in the morning. It was a dull brick-red colour, and looked as if it had been devastated by a first-class prairie fire.
Another time Tommy came to me while I was showing at the Oxford, and asked me to pass two or three of his friends in. At first I was rather taken aback, for, of course, it is entirely against the etiquette of the profession for a performer to ask for free admission for even his most intimate friends or relations. And rightly so! We get paid our salaries, and we have no earthly right to try to sponge on managers for seats.
Tommy, however, I could see, had no idea of all this. To him his request appeared in the light of a quite natural one. And this gave me an idea.
I told him to get some cards printed with his name and address, and underneath the words: “Super and Comedian to ‘Carlton!’”
“These cards,” I said quite solemnly, “will pass you and your friends into the best seats in any Hall in London. All you will have to do is to ask for the manager and hand him one, stating how many seats you require.”
Tommy thought this an excellent idea, and went off there and then and got his cards printed.
“Where shall I go first?” he asked me later on in the day.
“Doesn’t matter!” I replied off-handedly. “Why not try the Oxford? Come to-morrow night, and bring half a dozen pals with you.”
“Right,” replied Tommy, beaming with pleasurable anticipation, “I will.”
And he did.