Nations at Play Time to Remember

In the 1950s, the famous newsreel company Pathe

produced a major historical documentary series for British TV.

Made by the award-winning producer Peter Bayliss

and narrated by an illustrious line-up of celebrated actors,

Time to Remember chronicled the social, cultural and political forces

that shaped the first half of the 20th century.

In numerous programmes, the series contained reflections on the leisure and pastimes of the era.

The details of the way people once spent their spare time give a vivid impression

of an intriguing period.

-GRAMOPHONE RECORD: #

-It ain't gonna rain no more, no more...

-#

-All the world and the old folks there, it ain't gonna rain no more

-#

-A peanut sat on the railroad track

-#

-Its heart was all a-flutter

-#

-There's a freight train running by...

-#

PATHE NARRATOR: Things, faces, friends and places.

Years and moments half forgotten.

Laughs, fears, songs and tears,

memories are made of this.

In the early years of the 20th century,

the people of Britain experienced a lifestyle revolution.

The expansion of the railways and development of public transport services

enabled millions to indulge in the delights of a new age of leisure,

with unrestrained revelry at Britain's beaches

and unbridled thrills at the fair.

Pathe's history series, Time to Remember,

looked back to the end of the Victorian era,

when, for the first time, ordinary people could afford to take pleasure in leisure.

What would the oldest among us recall the best of the last century?

Children's pleasures, most likely.

Holidays by the seaside.

The rides along the front on top of one of those new electric tram cars.

Oh, the joyous speed of it!

The trips on the paddle-wheeled steamers,

so right for a child in a sailor hat with a whistle on a velvet string.

So wrong for an Aunt Flo, forced to lift her skirts and display her ankles!

The beaches, bathing huts on wheels,

you dare peek her, but you just dare!

The donkey rides, the sandcastles, just like the Queen's castle at Windsor.

And what did they call them? Rollercoasters or switchback railways.

"Hold tight to your boaters, ladies and gentlemen!"

And when the car dropped, how a high collar could bite into the neck!

The fairgrounds.

"Oh, Herbert, and mother thinking I'm on the promenade, listening to the band!"

"Ladies do not at any time swing on swings. On Sunday, too!

"Aggie Smith, tonight at supper I shall speak to your father.

"Going to fairs, indeed.

"I pray you didn't let yourself be trapped into entering one of those disgraceful side-shows!

"Women in tights, doing absolutely unmentionable things!

"What next?"

What came next was a new century,

a new monarch and a new Edwardian age,

when the whale-boned corsets of Victorian morality and propriety were loosened

and Britain whole-heartedly embraced the idea of having fun.

An Edwardian summer.

Leisure, relaxation and play.

And when Father went out to bat and you watched,

this is how you looked.

Mother, daughter and son.

When the match was over,

this is the way Father had his photograph taken,

to record for posterity that moustache,

without which he would have felt undressed.

Edwardian summer.

And the garden parties.

And the soirees.

The exact period that the transformed Eliza Doolittle

made her debut among the teacups with her, "Not bloody likely!"

Imagine the shock!

And this is the way you looked if you could afford it.

Surely there's never been greater competition in elegance?

For it was a world whose gentleness gave time and opportunity

to occupy yourself with just looking your best.

The time for paying calls,

attending receptions and balls

and going to the races.

There was something to put on for every occasion.

The best for sport, for by now, sport, in small degree,

was considered acceptable for the ladies.

That was the way you looked.

Boaters and blazers

and gleaming flannels.

The same summer when Three Men in a Boat

rolled upstream from regatta to regatta.

Now, was it one of those famous three

who took these ladies for a trip in a punt?

It might have been.

And being one of those three,

he wasn't very good at it!

Don't forget to pull the pole out!

Yes, it was pleasant on the river,

that Edwardian summer.

Nothing to disturb the peace and enjoyment.

Oh, dear, I'm afraid...

Yes, I was right!

And this was how you looked at the seaside.

How rude of the mashers to stare at the pretty ladies!

And so it continued until 1914.

With the advent of that first Great War,

the essence of the British way of life was under threat.

But being geographically removed from the main event, Britain could try to maintain

the leisure activities of more peaceful times.

British, on an island and away from it all.

British, and enjoying such a beautiful summer.

Grey toppers, smart turn-outs,

a summer in which to see and be seen.

At the great English country houses, the hunts met as usual.

DOGS BAY

Old habits die hard,

and the habit of a Britain undisturbed

was the oldest habit of all.

Our brave boys have always kept her that way.

At the garden parties, there were complaints about soldiers jostling civilians.

Of course, it's for charity, dear, and it's in a good cause.

No cricket at London's Oval now, though.

Only the army.

After but a few months of history's greatest struggle,

Britain was still a country clinging to peace-time ways.

Still the rowing, the racing,

the preoccupation with the pleasant but superficial.

And though at every turn of the lane you might be confronted with khaki and metal,

Britons with a landscape unblemished by war.

For those on the Western Front, in what would be the bloodiest war ever fought,

there was little time or opportunity for pleasure or play.

At home, most put their shoulder into the war effort.

With news of the slaughter in France affecting almost every community,

few were in the mood for play.

But when the war came to and end, many were keen to put the horrors of the conflict behind them

and sought enjoyment once again.

To the ordinary millions,

the hot summer of 1919 was a chance to enjoy their first real holiday

since that equally hot August of 1914,

when all the horror had started.

At Royal Ascot in 1919,

you simply wouldn't have known there'd just been a war on.

Though Britain was still half-in and half-out of khaki,

the organisers of the social calendar lost little time.

Pre-war Britain was back,

to outward appearance anyway.

So they're on the beaches, the first real crowds,

the first sandcastles,

the first Punch and Judy shows,

since the assassination of an arch-duke at Sarajevo.

And because it was the first for so long, you enjoyed everything the more.

As for the bathers, well!

Some of us remembered what we'd called "ladies" back in 1914!

These females looked and behaved very differently.

Making shells and running the home front had changed them out of all recognition.

But what of it? After all,

they had, in their own way, won a war.

So after four years of battle, it was piers and concert parties

and "What the butler saw" all over again.

And thank him for it.

Astonished children discovered for the first time

that fish weren't just things to be queued for off a slab,

but live creatures that actually came out of the sea!

Many rejoiced in the new informality.

But traditional British pastimes had become part of the cultural fabric of the nation.

After the war, they re-established themselves as the mainstay of Britain's social calendar.

If you were in Britain, you dolled up

in your best for Royal Ascot or Lord's and the Eton and Harrow.

Toppers and the lot.

And when you'd stopped looking at each other

and finished with eating, drinking and meeting your friends,

maybe you'd find time to watch the cricket.

Then Henley.

There, too, the racing took second place to other and more important things

such as doffing your boater to the Prince of Wales.

If you were lucky, you might shake him by the hand or sit with him in that "holy of holies",

the umpire's launch.

Picnics on the river, watercress sandwiches,

wasps,

and tea out of those flask things that keep it hot

even if sometimes it did taste a bit of the cork.

Yes, all this was a lot better than Ypres, the Somme or the Argonne even in their better moments.

Better than shells and dug-outs and bully beef.

And although sometimes it didn't feel quite the same as it had done before the war,

you know, like a hat you've put aside only to find later it doesn't fit you quite as it did,

it was all very delightful.

For the smart set, in the post-war years,

it was possible to revisit Europe's most glamorous playgrounds.

Exerting a particular pull were the fashionable seaside resorts of France.

-PATHE WOMAN NARRATOR:

-Deauville in the '20s. Pretty smart stuff today,

but will it ever be again what it was then? Another world, really.

The races, with the best of France rivalling the best of Europe

in who could look the smartest and draw the attention of the most millionaires.

The showplace for all the fashion houses of Paris,

where to be seen in yesterday's old rags just wasn't done.

Deauville, Le Touquet, Nice, Monte Carlo,

an even tougher round than the one in London.

Oh, what a bore!

Battles of flowers, concours d'elegance, oh, so monotonous!

Barons and baronesses, dukes,

counts, Gerald du Maurier and Isadora Duncan.

Raffles, Bulldog Drummond, the Savoy Orpheans,

oh, it was a full life!

But once Britain's tourists had sampled the delights of the continent,

there were still plenty of attractions available at home.

Our chorus work was perfect.

Left, right,

left, right!

Sometimes you went to the races.

So long in the legs, now, bless her!

It's so good for gals to see life. See people

and learn the value of money.

Look, there's Lord Lonsdale!

Over there is Princess Mary.

I expect she's here because her brother is riding.

Yes, darling, the Prince of Wales himself.

I do hope he doesn't fall off today. He's had such bad luck lately!

My dear, don't look now, but a woman jockey!

Courageous, I suppose,

but I don't quite like it - do you?

In 1924, King George V opened the British Empire Exhibition.

This huge spectacle ran for two summers.

It attracted 27 million visitors.

The official aim of the exhibition was to stimulate trade,

strengthen bonds that bind mother country to her sister states and daughters,

to bring into closer contact the one with each other,

to enable all who owe allegiance to the British flag

to meet on common ground and learn to know each other.

It was recalled in the episode "A trip to Europe"

as it would have been viewed by an American visitor of the time.

AMERICAN NARRATOR: 1924.

The British Empire Exhibition at Wembley.

One pavilion was the largest concrete building in the world.

Here was everything from aeroplanes to marine engines and model trains.

Here, just to show you how it's done, 16 motor cars were put together every day.

Among the locomotives, the famous queen's doll's house,

complete down to tiny books,

handwritten by such authors as Rudyard Kipling.

220 acres of exhibits, lakes

and toys, on which even a king might ride.

That was Wembley.

Here was everything you could possibly wish to see

from Eastern treasures to diamond washing,

from a model of King Tut's tomb to a life-size figure of the Prince of Wales in butter,

a railway that never stopped.

Though one visitor claimed 142 visits to Wembley,

Your Majesty only had enough time to finish viewing the pavilion of engineering.

In the giant sports arena were held circuses, Wild West shows

staged by Charles B. Cochran,

military tattoos,

even a chariot race.

By July 1924, nearly £250,000 was being spent by visitors to Wembley every day.

And yet they said it lost money.

The biggest attraction was the amusement park. Sideshows,

rollercoasters and every other known device.

And according to the official guide, surprises are caused by blasts of air coming up out of the floor.

It's odd of this great tribute to Empire is that what most people recall best

is something that either span them round or shot them into space!

But for the British, it was a rare time while it lasted.

Just two years later, huge numbers of British people would be united for a more sober gathering.

During the General Strike of 1926,

millions of union members withdrew their labour for nine days.

Yet though the '20s saw its fair share of hardship,

if reality was too hard to bear, there was always some form of escape.

PATHE NARRATOR: But in escape you could make real progress.

Skiing through the streets of Paris on wheels,

or sitting on a Chicago flag pole for a month or two.

The means of getting away from it all were endless in their variety.

Dancing on stilts, dance marathons,

but who are we to criticise with our stock car racing?

What did it matter as long as you kept up your health and strength?

WOMEN SCREAM

Adversity, depression, yet always, thank heaven,

the same old human faculty of looking to the brighter side,

looking to the gleam in the merc.

With the dawn of the 1930s, a new era had arrived.

New transport technology became available to the mass market

and new forms of entertainment found a wider audience.

But low-tech ancient means of getting around experienced a whole new level of popularity.

Gone the post-war indecisive turmoil of the '20s.

With the new era, we'd go marching forward in peace and reason

towards a reasonably rosy future.

It was as though, after a century of mechanical propulsion,

walking needed a new slogan, a new gimmick, to sell it.

But at least it sold all right.

Motoring was becoming cheaper all the time in the '30s,

and on the roads, you certainly began to notice it.

And as far as cycling went, well, it had never gone so far

since those days at the turn of the century

when it had first known popularity.

Yes, the summer of the great treks.

The summer of get-togethers in the great outdoors.

Mystery hikes. See Britain pursed, but en masse.

To commune with nature.

But surely you can't commune with nature or get away from it all

if you take it all with you!

Very healthy for those that like it, one supposes.

But the trouble with the outdoor life is that there's no convenience.

Yet many adore doing things out of doors

that they could do much more comfortably at home. Look at them!

No,

give me decent meals, a good bed and a bath -

when I want one!

The summer of rediscovering each other.

In shorts and shirts.

-#

-If I held you on my knee

-#

-Oh, how happy I should be

-#

-Under the spreading chest...

-#

-Under the spreading chest...

-#

-If I held you on my knee

-#

-Oh, how happy I should be

-#

-Under the spreading...

-#

MIME SILENTLY

At this time, the Great Depression was starting to affect the global economy.

Major steam ship lines saw their passenger lists dwindle.

To keep their vessels employed, owners offered cruises as an alternative.

Holidaymakers could venture further afield than ever before.

Cruises were one long party,

with the added attraction of visits to foreign ports

and places that otherwise you couldn't hope to see.

Some advertised rates at only a pound a day.

Suddenly, ship's officers found themselves comperes in one endless variety show,

organising deck games, swimming galas and beauty contests.

It was enough to make the Ancient Mariner turn in Davy Jones' locker!

For romance, truly a happy hunting ground.

Not for nothing were shipping bureaux termed Cupid's agents!

Yes, for a pound a day, it was certainly a full life while it lasted.

But for millions in Europe and North America,

the '30s were blighted by the effects of the worst economic depression in modern history.

As the decade drew to a close, few realised

that the years of suffering and austerity

were about to be replaced by the still tougher privations

of a second world war.

I remember the theatrical garden party in London, that summer of 1939,

mainly, I suppose, because it was destined to be the last

in the warm, dog-day spirit of the pre-war peace.

Show business's last great gathering before the balloon and ENSA went up.

Emlyn Williams and Davy Burnaby.

Ivor Novello, Mary Pickford and Buddy Rogers.

Where did they all go from there?

For this was the last summer before great and terrible change.

And yet who would have guessed it that season, at that other garden party at Buckingham Palace

or amid the colour of Ascot, the glory of Goodwood?

All such things were to reappear after the grey years that lay ahead.

But none would emerge quite the same.

A hot, gorgeous summer,

as though the gods, knowing what was coming, had decided, in pity, to give us a bonus.

What do you see through the telescope?

Ships, yes. But beyond, outside your world?

Yet, though you knew the die was cast, still you clung to peace.

Even in those last few precious minutes,

before it finally and completely slipped away from you.

To be lost in the sound of tired yet determined words.

'I am speaking to you from the cabinet room of 10, Downing Street.

'This morning, the British Ambassador in Berlin

'handed the German government a final note,

'stating that unless we heard from them by 11 o'clock

'that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland,

'a state of war would exist between us.

'I have to tell you now

'that no such undertaking has been received

'and that consequently, this country is at war with Germany.'

AIR RAID WARNING SOUNDS

# Somewhere the sun is shining

# So, honey, don't you cry

# We'll find a silver lining

# The clouds will soon roll by. #

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd