Nearly a century since his heyday, music hall legend Fred Barnes takes to the stage again at one of the capital’s best-known variety addresses, Wilton’s Music Hall, in Olivier Award winner Christopher Green’s new show Music Hall Monster. Who was the man himself? Why did his life and career end so sadly? Why is he largely forgotten? We’ve rounded up some background articles to fill you in before the show…
Fred Barnes (21 May 1885-23 October 1938) was a famous, openly gay music hall singer, whose most enduring hit, the 1907 self-penned ditty The Black Sheep of The Family, remarked upon the “a queer, queer world we live in”.
Barnes escaped from Birmingham and his butcher father to live more freely and find stage success in London. But the capital’s lifestyle also took its toll. He fell from grace, brought down by a familiar, modern range of addictions: sex, shopping, alcohol, and a need for celebrity. At the pinnacle of his fame in the 1920s, he was fabulously wealthy and sported the height of extravagant fashion with a marmoset monkey on his shoulder. By the mid-1930s, he was singing for pennies in Southend pubs with a pet chicken.
Penniless and ill with tuberculosis, Barnes ended up committing suicide, as his father had twenty-five years earlier. He was 53.
Music Hall Monster: The Insatiable Fred Barnes, starring Christopher Green, runs from 2 to 12 May 2018 at Wilton’s Music Hall, 1 Graces Alley, Whitechapel, London E1 8JB, with performances Tuesdays to Saturdays at 7.30pm and Saturday matinees at 2.30pm. Tickets are priced £5.50 to £12.50. CLICK HERE TO PURCHASE!
Find out more about Fred
Gay Birmingham remembered
Barnes was born in a bedroom above his father’s butcher’s shop in Saltley, Birmingham, England. He experienced extremes of success and failure, and as a young gay man escaped to London from his father and his father’s lifestyle.
In 1913 his father committed suicide. By his mid-30s, Fred was suffering from alcoholism, which had ruined his career, and tuberculosis. Two and a half years after he was told he had only three months to live, he committed suicide himself. He was 53.
Three Queer Lives reviewed
Paul Bailey’s 2001 book, Three Queer Lives, tells the stories of a trio of largely forgotten performers: Naomi Jacob, Arthur Marshall and Fred Barnes.
Scotsman reviewer Andrew Crumey finds Barnes’ ‘rags to rags story’ to be ‘the most dramatic and intriguing’, and notes that when Barnes took to the stage in 1907 and sang “It’s a queer, queer world we live in” [from his most enduring song The Black Sheep of the Family], most of his audience probably did not know what he meant.’
The grandson of music hall songwriter Fred Godfrey pays tribute to Barnes here. ‘Barnes was unabashedly gay. Known to his friends as “Freda”, he was regarded as scandalous even by the relatively tolerant world of show business, and he was increasingly shunned in his later years.
His fondness for alcohol also limited his ability to perform as time went on. Barnes ended his sad life by gas poisoning in the Southend-on-Sea flat of his friend and manager.’
This Guardian feature recalls the great music hall stars who had notable runs at Hackney Empire.
‘Inspired by his father, a butcher who despaired of his theatrical son, Barnes wrote The Black Sheep of the Family. The song had its first outing on a Monday night at the Empire; the crowd of 1,500 loved it, and Barnes – who later joked that he had written the song in a fit of pique at being repeatedly given a tricky “first turn” billing – was soon promoted to the star slot.’
It was drinking which was to ruin Fred’s career. He missed performances, went on stage incapable of singing or dancing and generally put less and less care into his performances. This led to his being moved down the bills until he was finally back at first turn. Managers grew wary of him and soon his outstanding contracts were paid off and he was without work altogether.
During the 1920s, Barnes was sentenced to a month in jail for driving while drunk and in a dangerous manner and without a licence. Following the arrest, he was deemed a “menace to His Majesty’s fighting forces” – because of the topless sailor who had been travelling with him at the time of the accident – and was banned from attending the Royal Tournament, an annual military tattoo.
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