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The
Most
Interesting
People
I've Met
(Continued)
mm
1
Beatrice Lillie
Beatrice Lillie has been captivating audi
ences since she emerged from the music
halls in London when only a young girl. To
discuss the greatness of her artistry would
be superfluous. Let's talk about Bea Lillie
the woman who has the great capacity for
friendship.
Lake so many troupers, Bea lives most of
her life in hotels. Many years ago, she took
up painting as a hobby. She thought it silly
for a rank amateur to spend a lot of money
buying canvas; instead, she saved the car
tons in which her laundry was returned and
used them. She painted only flowers.
One Christmas she gave me a painting of
a vase of small white flowers among which
nestled two small red ones. "Now you can
tell everyone you own an original Walt
Kuhn," Bea said.
"You're crazy, Beattie," I told her. "To
begin with, he painted clowns, not flowers;
furthermore, a Walt Kuhn is worth three or
four thousand dollars."
"I will explain," she said in her clipped
tones. "I had a cocktail party one evening
and invited Walt Kuhn. I had just finished
this painting of the white flowers. Walt
picked up my brush, daubed some red on it,
and painted in the two little flowers. 'Now,
Bea,' he said, 'you own an original Walt
Kuhn painting.' "
Bea worshipped her 19-year-old son who
joined the Royal Navy during the early days
of the war. He went to sea as a member of the
crew of the H.M.S. Prince of Wales. The
ship was sunk in the Indian Ocean, and her
Family Weekly, June 19, I960
son was listed as "missing." Those of us who
were friends of Bea were afraid that her
grief might destroy her during the anxious
days that followed.
She was appearing at the Haymarket
Theatre, and each night she would go on
stage to sing her gay songs and then would
retire to her dressing room to collapse. She
always clung to the hope that her son might
have been saved.
One day she asked me to call upon A.V.
Alexander, First Lord of the Admiralty, to
see if there was any news of her son. Alex
ander (now Lord Alexander) made a thor
ough investigation and finally told me that
the youngster's name had been moved from
the "missing" to the "killed in action" list
"I can't tell her. Will you?" I asked.
The sympathetic Lord of the Admiralty
agreed to meet us at the Savoy for a late
supper after Bea's show. That night the
gentle A. V. Alexander told her the truth:
that there was no use hoping any longer.
Bea took the blow with stoic silence. I took
her home. It was a night of an unusually
heavy blitz, and our cab driver stopped
about five blocks from her apartment and
told us that he could not go on because the
street was littered with glass.
"The stuff is still coming down," the cab
bie said. "If you two have any sense, you'll
duck in somewhere I'm going to."
"I am going home," Bea said tonelessly.
And that was that
It was a long and frightening walk. I
have always felt that Bea Lillie would have
welcomed death that night
That's the Bea Lillie I know, the one you
don't see on the stage.