Wilton's

John's archive is full of documents that throw new light on major events in Wilton's past, such as his briefing for John Betjeman ahead of the fated council meeting which stopped the wrecker's ball.



John later joined the GLC and moved to the other side of the fight, continuing to push for Wilton's restoration. He has been active throughout the different periods and managements, and was very much a part of the final repair and restoration.



We are grateful to be able to expand and enhance the depth of Wilton's archive with this latest acquisition.

Founded in 1991, and based at the David Salomons estate at Southborough near Tunbridge Wells, Kent; Broomhill Opera under General Director, Mark Dornford-May, attracted quality artists, including notably Jonathan Miller to direct Ariadne Auf Naxos (1993) and Rodelinda (1996). After their 4th season, Broomhill were forced to leave the Salomons estate theatre and for 1997 they ran a season at a theatre in Christ’s Hospital, Horsham and at the Tyne Theatre and Opera House.



The Silver Lake was the first Broomhill Opera production at Wilton’s, opening on 29 March 1999 and running until 18 April. The first two performances (29 and 30 March) were run under an experimental “pay as much as you can” basis to attract the local community in Tower Hamlets (and residents affected by building works) to attend. So, the first performance with tickets at £15 -20 was on April Fool’s day. It is worth remembering that at the time top price tickets at Covent Garden were about £120.

Kurt Weill’s opera was first staged in February 1933 to the winter’s tale of Georg Keiser’s play. The story is one of complex capitalist injustice involving a policeman who wins the lottery and cares for a beggar he has previously shot for stealing a pineapple, not to mention scenes with a castle, enchanted forest and a greedy witch. In the final scene the policeman, who has been tricked out of his castle, and the beggar seek oblivion in the silver lake but it has frozen so they walk together across it. The Silver Lake was Weill’s last work in Germany as it opened just after Hitler came to power. It was rarely performed in Britain as Kaiser’s words were seen as too difficult and the piece requires a skilled mix of acting and singing from many performers.



There is an element of chance in how Rory Bremner was chosen to write the translation. Dornford-May had heard Bremner reviewing a TV opera film on Radio 4 and how a conductor had kept interrupting Jonathan Miller talking about La Boheme. Bremner has a degree in French and German and Broomhill made an approach to him.  At the first meeting it was apparent that the conductor who Bremner had been so critical of was Charles Hazlewood, Music Director of Broomhill!




Nevertheless the project was soon underway and Bremner took on the translation challenge. The front of Wilton’s has a pineapple in the plasterwork which he saw it as a symbol of what the opera and Broomhill were about. This was a radical departure from his fame as an impressionist of politicians and personalities. 

The story did however have modern resonances in the conjunction of capitalism and poverty and in the lottery seller’s song, part of which, in Bremner’s translation, is:
Before you know
You’ll see your price accrue
It’s you!
It’s really you!



Reviews were mixed – 

'The seats are penitentially uncomfortable…The public area is still bare bricks and boards, awaiting more money…At present, one has coffee in surroundings which reminded me of the sort of place where P.D.James might set one of her murder stories.' (Michael Kennedy, unknown publication)

'This was a bold, fresh, vigorous, stirring presentation.' (Andrew Porter, Kurt Weill Newsletter vol. 17)

'This is modern drama, breathing fire in a world where too much is lukewarm' (Nick Kimberley, The Independent; 1 April 1999)

'Wilton’s Music Hall, a seriously forlorn shell in Whitechapel with a great potential for a small-scale music theatre – given several million pounds more restoration work.  For the time being it’s a building site.' (Michael White, The Independent on Sunday; 4 April 1999)



However Broomhill had running costs of about £320,000 a year and at affordable ticket prices could only hope to cover about 10% of this through the box office.  In January the Financial Times reported that the production due to open two months later was £50,000 short of its costs of £160,000.

Bremner’s personal commitment to the project secured late funding of £50,000 from Jewson’s for material to finish the building work and a guarantee of sponsorship from BP. As late as 2 March he met Vivien Duffield (Lady Sainsbury) at a topping out ceremony at the Royal Opera House and she agreed to support this in addition to her substantial philanthropy to the ROH.

As proof of the story’s hold on Bremner, when he selected his records for Desert Island Discs in 2003, he chose the final scene from “Der Silbersee” as number four and told the story of how he got involved.

The strange story of “Der Silbersee”, both as an opera and as a potential production, is a landmark in Wilton’s history but as one reviewer put it –“the survival of Wilton’s is almost as miraculous as anything that happens in “The Silverlake”.

The restoration was careful to ensure this history of the building is readable in the spaces and not to restore them to any period of time in particular. We have, unfortunately lost the billiards tables. In his plan of the ground floor Mr Mason shows that the Hall was marked out as a badminton court. During the restoration work a ping pong table was installed in the Hall and started a short period of tournaments!

The ideas drawn up in the second scheme were smaller in physical scale, restricted to the existing buildings on the Wilton's site, but far more dramatic in terms of the interventions planned for the structures. A controversial move proposed and sketched was altering the proscenium arch and stage itself to give an impression of old time music hall, but one not accurate to the history of Wilton's. As with most schemes 17 Wellclose Square holds the support functions for the site. Catering is still central to the restoration of the Graces Alley buildings with a proposed restaurant in a similar position to our current cocktail bar. The major is difference is an extension of the current building up to the music hall boundary, which would be 'pierced' to allow direct access from the auditorium. 



The entire balcony of Wilton's would be given over to catering, with booths and tables installed in an inversion of the Victorian music hall, where tables were available on the ground floor; the balcony provided seating for sailors and 'single ladies'. Wilton's today is a flexible space and can incorporate live performance as well as catered events, such as weddings. The permanence of the booths suggests the planners were aware that catering would be an important, if not primary source of revenue. The programming proposed is strictly variety, unlike the broader productions we offer today. Ironically by maintaining Wilton's exclusively as a music hall required a greater alteration of the actual Wilton's Music Hall!





The idea of replacing the most iconic design element, and the only original feature of the first music hall before the fire, is astounding today. Construction and conservation techniques have progressed substantially. Unfortunately at the time the buildings were already in a poor state of repair and the decade delay in beginning structural works had increased the underlying problems. Despite being listed in 1971 the plan proposed 'the top story of the buildings in Graces Alley would need to be removed and the whole of these very dilapidated structures roofed in up to the flank wall of the hall itself.' The result would substantially alter the exterior appearance of Wilton's.  The solution was to construct a replacement wall to hold a colossal sign for Wilton's Music Hall, shortly after it was decided the name, and sign, would become 'Wilton's Grand Music Hall'. As these spaces are the area which contains both the archive storage and my desk, I am grateful that demolition did not begin.



Work on this scheme did actually commence in the early 1980s, with essential repairs to the hall roof and piecemeal projects when sufficient funds were raised. It is probably the restoration guideline used for the longest period until the current restoration, and the one with the most coordinated and integrated plans for artistic programming and very public campaigning.

Her hand-written letters provide wonderfully descriptive accounts of the contrast she faced on her arrival from a rural life in the north of England to the flattened, bombed-out streets around Whitechapel. Married to Pastor John Sutton, Mrs Sutton’s reminiscing is anything but downbeat, it is positively uplifting as she describes daily life and the local families’ grit and determination to overcome adversity.

The Hall offered sanctuary and not just a place of worship but a lively social centre too, the doors were open to everyone and the hall bustled with activities for all the community. No one was ever turned away, hot meals were served and clothing handed out to those who’d lost so much from their homes. The generosity was widespread although on one occasion, a donation to the Hall prompted the raising of a quizzical eyebrow - one particular Harvest Festival, a member of the congregation proudly handed a live chicken to a surprised Reverend Sutton.



Brownies; girl guides and boy scouts; youth clubs, and women and men’s clubs all met regularly in the Hall. Food and clothing were in extremely short supply due to rationing at this stage in the war, so resourcefulness and creativity was required. Reverend John Sutton, ‘Skip’, the boy scout leader, made the boy’s uniforms from donated army uniforms and their scarves from bandages dyed blue and gold stitched together. The boys were very proud of ‘their made together uniforms’.

The raids had regularly cut off basic services such as water, gas and electricity supplies and left the air heavily polluted from the smoke of smouldering fires.  It was a treacherous environment for all. But there was one kindly Samaritan, London Transport. Families, children and staff were regularly driven out of the smog and bomb ravaged streets to spend laughter-filled days in the fresh air of the Essex countryside. Not just days out but camping trips too, everyone enjoyed the freedom and clear skies.



When still a music hall and bar, Wilton’s hid a past of rumoured hidden passages, and whispers of escaping sailors running along tunnels down the River Thames to jump back on board their ships. One elderly woman who helped Pastor and Mrs Sutton with the cleaning, had started work in the bar when she was just 12 years old. A veteran of the East End who wore a cloth cap and sacking apron to work, she knew every nook and cranny and entertained everyone with her tales of Wilton’s secrets.

Mrs Sutton’s vivid account of Wilton’s during the war years are fascinating as to how the Hall adapted to the catastrophic environment outside its protective walls. It is a testament to the families of the East End and the endurance of all how to ‘keep calm and carry on’!

The London docks were decimated during the Second World War and it was not until many decades later that reconstruction could begin. When it did, it exploded; the regeneration of the Docklands is one the resounding successes of gentrification, but in the process it altered completely the atmosphere and community of the area. St Katherine Docks redeveloped the western side in the early 1970s, it became the prestige project for developer Taylor Woodrow and remains a popular and vibrant hub today.

The campaign team behind Wilton's in the late 1970s were closely linked to local organisations including All Hallows by the Tower church and St Katherine's By the Tower Ltd., a Taylor Woodrow company who advised on the structural aspects of Wilton's restoration. It is less surprising that there would be a vested interest in relocating Wilton's closer to the Katherine Docks redevelopment. The radical idea was, however, endorsed by the Trust and became a very real prospect as they prepared plans for Wilton's future.



The move did not happen and new communities populated and rebuilt the surroundings of Wilton's, ensuring a more viable prospect for remaining in situ. It is easy to dismiss the idea of relocation, but Spon Street in Coventry and sites such as Beamish and the Black Country Museum have proved that the drastic step can offer a positive and stable future for at risk structures. Numerous schemes have come and gone for Wilton's - the final restoration is respectful and almost invisible but that comes as the result of exhausting wildly different ideas and passing through waves of development trends.

These plans are the earliest known scheme for comprehensive restoration, drawn up for the first Wilton’s Music Hall Trust by J. R. Notman, ARIBA, MSIA in the early 1970s. As well as being an accomplished architect, Notman designed for theatre, film and television; appropriate given Wilton’s heritage and future. His artistic flair can be seen in his sketches for the finished building.



It is interesting that almost all the proposed schemes start with restoring the bar. Although clearly a commercial imperative it is also appropriate from a heritage perspective as the Prince of Denmark bar existed on the site for more than a century before the music hall arrived. Even the Methodist mission retained the name Old Mahogany Bar, despite its contradictions to their cause.





Unique to this proposal are the Albion Dining Rooms, a more formal dining area perhaps encouraged in part by the survival at that time of plaster and woodwork which would later be removed as building works were begun, stalled and begun again for a new scheme. Much of the rest of the design echoes the final project, including using the end house 17 Wellclose Square as the support spaces for the restored hall.




This, and many of the proposals, adds an extension to Wilton’s. Here it was proposed to house a National School of Variety, an idea revisited in numerous forms across schemes. Although we have ultimately not expanded Wilton’s, the learning and outreach programme is far broader in its scope than a dedicated school would have serviced.



Although a worthwhile and ambitious scheme we are lucky that the misfortunes and set-backs that frustrated previous attempts refined the final designs and gifted us the innovative restoration we have today.

The Wilton’s archive formally begins in the mid-1960s when a direct lineage can be drawn between the individuals and organisations campaigning for its restoration. Items earlier than this have been donated or returned to us from numerous sources. In the case of our warehouse period the history never left us but remained hidden. Coppermill vacated all their assets from Wilton’s when they moved but decades later, when restoration work finally began, rags were discovered under the floorboards of the hall; along with the pipes and bottles of the music hall audiences, and toy soldiers and badges of the Methodist youth groups. 



Although not intrinsically valuable, and absolutely filthy having spent decades amongst the waste of the buildings, these fragments give us a tangible link to our past. That they were buried along with relics from previous tenants helps to understand the journey of Wilton’s and all that have helped it survive, whether by active campaigning or serendipitous use. Wilton’s has never been abandoned and that has been key to preventing its destruction. 

Coppermill themselves are still active and based not too far from Wilton’s in Bethnal Green. They have been in the textile recycling industry for over 100 years and now have a Royal Warrant.

The portrait remained with the Wilton family who very kindly donated it to Wilton’s as part of the restoration campaign. The portrait was presented to one of our chief campaigners, Roy Hudd, in his dressing room at the Albery Theatre, now Noel Coward Theatre, seen here with Dudley and Frances Spain (née Wilton) and Joan Turner (née Wilton). Roy is an active member of the Wilton’s Music Hall extended family, writing and starring in our annual pantomime.



Above Joan and Robin Turner present the original print. Our historian has investigated the lives of John and his wife Ellen for our in house publication Wilton’s A History of the Hall and Houses, free to pick up from the John Wilton Room. Among this group of photos is an image of John Wilton’s grave at Bath Abbey Cemetery, where he was buried in 1881. Despite remarrying, Ellen was buried next to him in 1896. Also buried at the Wilton family vault is John’s brother Thomas, who in contrast to John took on the more reputable office of Mayor of Bath, 1883-1884; though he too presented strong beard game.



Next time you’re in say hello to John and discover more about our heritage with our changing displays.

The play documents the jealousy felt by Austrian Court composer Antonio Salieri to the young, vulgar Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, following his deathbed claims of poisoning Mozart. Told in flashback the play presents a highly fictitious account of the composers’ rivalry and the natural genius of Mozart contrasted to the crippling mediocrity of Salieri. The historical accuracy is almost irrelevant as Shaffer draws a fascinating conflict between two contrasting, captivating but flawed and destructive characters. The play has remained popular and this production was followed by the successful 2007 West End revival of another seminal Shaffer work, Equus.



As the single narrator Salieri is a demanding role and many distinguished actors have given their take over the years. At Wilton’s Matthew Kelly, having recently won the Olivier Award for Of Mice and Men at the Savoy, was commended, 'the always commanding Kelly proves a far less fruity, self-aggrandizing Salieri than some of the ones I have seen over the years’ (Matt Wolf, Theatre.com). As Mozart, Robert Shore of the Metro said, ‘Broadbent meanwhile invests the potty-mouthed prodigy with punky panache.’

Despite the dominance of the two central roles reviews noted the importance of placing musicians on stage, no doubt helped by the renowned acoustics of the hall; ‘the ensemble music-making, under Catherine Jayes’s supervision, that gives this Amadeus its own particular flavour’ (Michael Billington, The Guardian). ‘Doyle, who often casts actors who play instruments too, scores a theatrical coup by making the courtiers into a little musical ensemble who elegantly play sequences from a Mozart serenade and the 29th Symphony, the sounds of which drive Salieri deeper into jealousy’s grasp’ (Nicholas de Jongh, Evening Standard).



Director John Doyle also designed the show; ‘gorgeously furnished stage-all burnished mirrors like something out of the Sir John Soane Museum’. The tarnished mirrors hung on an invisible wall act as an extension of the Wilton’s balcony with its fading gilding, acknowledging the flawed personalities behind the sublime music. ‘Perhaps the intimacy of the auditorium – surely the space to see this production, regardless of its onward life – does its bit in gathering us into Salieri’s knotted emotional web, rather than encouraging the indulgences seen in this role elsewhere’ (Wolf).

As the video starts, front man Holly Johnson arrives at Wilton’s via rickshaw, ironically less flamboyant than Champagne Charlie’s white horse drawn carriage of music hall days. Instead of the Wilton’s we know the venue is transformed into an S&M parlour frequented by leathermen, the bar managed by a towering drag queen and all overseen by a rotund Roman emperor looking down from the balcony. The decadent scene recalls Wilton's Methodist Pastor Ernest C. Willis’ description of the former hall from The Story of the Old Mahogany Bar, 1951: ‘The Bar was the resort of many people of ill-repute. Sailors were induced to enter, drink and dance. On many occasions these men were plied with drink, knocked senseless, and after being robbed were thrown out into Graces Alley.’ Holly Johnson is lucky to get away with being thrown to a tiger onstage.



With straw thrown over the floor, medieval torture devices, Victorian décor and Roman coliseum set-up, all lit with neon signs the timeless aesthetic of the video is nevertheless a definitive product of the 1980s. The risqué costumes, big hair and heavy make-up are the epitome of the post-punk, new romantics era with a movement towards more fluid gender and liberated sexuality. The video is a record of a vanished sub-culture, albeit in a highly mythologised form.



In other ways too it translates London in the 1980s. The chaotic orgy in the ruins of the past is a metaphor for the scramble for the decimated docklands, overseen by greedy developers, emperors of planning and gentrification which Wilton’s at the heart of the East End would get caught up in. The video was all too much for audiences of its day and was banned by both the BBC and MTV. However, just as Wilton’s was reborn in the image of its boisterous music hall past, so too the suppressed video has been reassessed and is now considered an iconic example from the golden age of music videos.

Wilton’s first appears in the film as a snooker hall and is introduced with the line ‘This place used to be so great’. The unsettling quality of decaying grandeur, that the great may fall, gives the scene a tense atmosphere. The claustrophobic lighting and dense smoke created by the production team increase the threat level as the scene leads to its violent climax.



Both in the film and reality Wilton’s was dressed up to create the Kray’s legendary Regency Club with the walls painted blood red. As the scene begins veteran variety performer Jimmy Jewel gives an impromptu performance of 'Ballin’ the Jack' to the appreciative audience, much as music hall artists would have done in John Wilton’s day.




The set and dressings add a temporary glamour to the space, but as with the reign of the Krays it was not to last. The furniture and fittings were removed as swiftly as they appeared and Wilton’s returned to its vulnerable dereliction for another two decades. The colour scheme, however, would last and stayed, gradually decaying until another production reinterpreted the space in the mid-2000s.

Grace’s Alley had always been a narrow street leading to Wellclose Square, typical of the tightly packed east end. Following the slum clearances of the 1960s Wilton’s neighbours were swept away and, where it once faced rows of similar brick houses, it now looked out over an empty space that would eventually become the Shapla Primary School.




The restoration campaign had begun in earnest in the late-1970s, overseen by Peter Honri and Canon Peter Delaney. A dedicated group called the ‘Friends of Wilton’s’ were instrumental in building awareness of Wilton’s plight and counted the great and good of variety entertainment among its members.



The passion to save Wilton’s had succeeded and the building stood in splendid isolation. There was equally a drive to rescue the disappearing art of variety and ensure the unique performance heritage was maintained for future generations. Restricted by health and safety considerations from accessing the hall, fundraising events had to be mounted in available spaces with performers such as Roy Hudd coming forward to mount their own events to support the wider campaign. The fundraising during the period was very much a hands on approach and this can be traced in the letters and committee minutes in our archive.




Events like Wilton’s on the Green certainly show the commitment of those campaigning for Wilton’s but it is difficult to appreciate on a sunny day the impact of entering the atmospheric spaces themselves. There were sufficient funds that by 1983 restoration work had begun on the exterior restoration and soon the rest of the area would be covered in scaffolding as our neighbours remerged and the Green was rendered to history.



Beginning with these early efforts it would take another three decades of campaigns and fundraising to see Wilton’s finally reopened and restored.

The story is gloriously told in this card from the period that Wilton’s served as a Methodist mission. The Old Mahogany Bar, despite the deceptive title, offered more wholesome activities and provided a place of worship. Much as the raucous music hall of old, it acted as a community space organising events and activities for the local population. Aware that many in the area did not attend the religious services Pastor Ernest C. Willis prepared a programme of social activities in an attempt to ‘bridge the gap’.




Pastor Willis proudly wrote: ‘Whatever might be said of its first thirty years…the hall has now, for over 60 years been indeed a shrine of gentle music, purest mirth, and from which many have experience that quality of sympathy which is divine’. The deteriorating building was vacated by the East End Mission in 1956. It is perhaps surprising considering the above that the church became one of the leading voices, calling for the restoration of Wilton’s as a music hall in the 1970s.


Canon Peter Delaney was vicar at All Hallows by the Tower, one of the oldest churches in London. He strongly campaigned on behalf of Wilton’s and sat on the steering committee guiding the restoration plans of the era. The plans called for the restored Wilton’s to act as a National Centre for Variety Entertainment. So enthusiastic was he for the return of variety entertainment that he organised a gala dinner at the Café Royal in August 1979 hosted by Liza Minelli.

The concerns of the dangers of such spectacle seem to have passed with time but the desire that Wilton’s play an active part in the community remain. '[Canon Delaney’s] anxiety for the music hall to benefit the local area was shared by other members of the Committee’ (Wilton’s Grand Music Hall, Minutes of Initial Steering Committee Meeting; 20 June 1978). The church offered office space to the Wilton’s team as the buildings themselves were in too bad a state of repair and All Hallows played host to the Alberni String Quartet as part of the fund raising efforts.



Today Wilton’s has a thriving learning and outreach programme and an eclectic programme that caters to all audiences. And the former Old Mahogany Bar is once again a bar!

One of the joys of helping to catalogue the Wilton’s archive is that you do not know what the next box will reveal. 

Among the paper and photographs are some other objects, including a small pewter tankard. We are fortunate as well to have its story, in the form of a letter.  



The tankard was found in the 1930’s during building works by a Methodist Church steward. Remarkably he rescued it as he was sure it had been used in the Music Hall Mahogany Bar. Some 70 years later, in 2007, his widow decided it should return “where it belonged rather than be discarded”.

To me, at barely half pint size it is smaller and more delicate than I would have imagined.  Like Wilton’s itself it has been thought lost and discarded. It took enthusiastic individuals to keep it safe until better times. Now it is a tangible link to the past – a gutsy survivor against the odds. 

Keith White, Archive Volunteer, October 2014

There are over 70 boxes of archive material from Wilton’s various incarnations, and I am one of ten volunteers, so I will only have seen a fraction of the total, but my brief conversations with fellow volunteers confirm my own experience: most boxes yield treasures of some sort.

Yes, they are dry and dusty (the boxes, that is, not the volunteers), and cataloguing may have a decidedly fusty image, but every box has the potential for surprise and excitement, as you never know what you are going to find next. Some, it’s clear from the moment you take the lid off, contain an intriguing mixture of old programmes, flyers and photos, but even the boxes whose contents look like any old office filing turn out to be worth exploring.



For me, the biggest eye-opener has been finding out about Lt Walter Cole, leader of a highly successful ventriloquist troupe, linguist, and the first person to tour Britain with a cinematograph. The first box I opened contained a photo of him and his troupe, and their ventriloquist’s dummies (at least one of which was decidedly non-PC), and a photocopy of his obituary from The Gazette of 12 February 1932, 28 years after his retirement, confirms his status as ventriloquist to royalty and a thorough-going Edwardian celeb.


Flyer for Jonathan Miller’s 1999 production of The Beggar’s Opera

Some of the boxes contain rather random assortments of items from different periods: a sort of lucky dip from Wilton’s chequered history. But those that gather together all the papers, say, from a particular production give the unfolding — and riveting — story of creative endeavour, right  from tentative proposals to rave reviews in the press. It’s all there: the approaches to actors and musicians, the artistic deliberations about scripts, the rehearsal notes, the performance records, even the fan letters. Here are directors changing their minds, props being sent flying into the audience by over-emphatic flouncing off stage, and music cues missed because the audience are clapping too loudly. It’s pure showbiz…


Rachael Stirling and Oliver Chris in the 2007 production of The Taming of the Shrew

As with any artistic enterprise, money worries have loomed large, and the correspondence sometimes reveals the thrilling high-wire act attempted by anyone running a creative endeavour, but it also lays bare the unsung generosity of both corporations and individuals (and even, in a distant halcyon past, public bodies).

Alongside all the papers there are many photos of Wilton’s and its environs in various waves and phases of their development. In the past there seems to have been a certain amount of random, unrecorded rearranging of the building, with the result that unexpected doorways and passages are likely to turn up. But, stoutly supported by its beautiful barley twist columns and less decorous sleepers from the old London and Blackwall Railway, Wilton’s remains serenely resilient, untroubled by the swing from anything-goes music hall to straight-laced mission hall in the 19th century, miraculously untouched by bombs during the Blitz, and returning as a pocket-size opera house and adventurous performance space at the turn of the 21st century.

I’m sad to have come to the end of my boxes, but it’s great to think that all the treasures will be much easier to get at in the future.