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The Other Cheeky Turn
Long before we had "The Cheeky Girls" there was "The Cheeky Chappie." In the 'thirties and 'forties the comic Max Miller reigned supreme on the London stage, and was considered by most of his peers to be "the Guv'nor" (a term applied to someone who is considered to be the best in a particular field). His being held in such esteem automatically meant that Max's peers would regularly come for an audience. It should come as no surprise therefore that Stan Laurel, upon returning to London during Laurel and Hardy's British tours, went to see the comedy king. In Miller's biography, by John East, Stan is quoted as saying:
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I saw Max Miller's act three times. The first time was in the early 1930s when I went back to 'Old Blighty' for a holiday. Just by chance I booked a seat at the Holborn Empire. Max was on the bill; I guess he'd just hit the big time.No doubt about it, he was a great comic. I'd never seen any artist involve the audience so much. They'd do anything he wanted them to do - like lambs to the slaughter.
After we'd finished our booking at the London Palladium in 1947, I went to see Max again. By that time Max's act was a work of art. His timing was perfect; he projected his personality as well, if not better, than any performer I have seen on either side of the Atlantic.
Finally, it was in 1953 when Max invited us to the theater he was playing. He was using much the same material, but he was as bright as a button.
That lovely artist, Turner Layton, drove Babe and I down to Brighton that Sunday. Dear old Max only cracked one gag: "Which one of us is going to top the bill?"
No doubt about it, Max Miller was the most private and solitary performer I've ever met. I mean on-, and off-, stage. I got the impression it was almost impossible for him to share anything. He even kept his thoughts to himself.
It was following that predictable talk about the weather and how the variety theatres were dying on their feet, that he dried up. Babe and I were tired out and it wasn't the time or place for showbusiness backchat. It was rather funny, wasn't it, when Babe said, "Come on Turner, give us a song."
I don't mean this in a nasty way, but I reckon that the Cheeky Chappie only came to life if you went to the theatre where he was appearing, and paid five shillings for a seat in the stalls.
No director could tell Max what to do; his act was faultless. He didn't need actors to feed him lines, or, more important, share the spotlight with him. Moreover, actors would cost him. He wanted to keep all the money from the box-office for himself.
For Max Miller the audience became his prop; his supporting cast; his inspiration. He stood on that stage, responsible to nobody and taking all the risks. He really was "The One-and -Only" - a very unusual Cheeky Chappie."