Tony Cunnane's Early Years 1935-53

One day in 1942 my maternal grandparents came on a rare visit to our house in Wakefield. Grandma (click on the image to see a larger version) happened to see the latest issue of Radio Times on the table and, knowing my penchant for being the first in the house to read it, she asked me what interesting programmes were due to be broadcast. I read out aloud a few programmes and then mentioned that a few days later, someone called Clara Butt would be the subject of the BBC's regular 7.15am programme 'Morning Star', which was a recital of gramophone records and came immediately after 'The Kitchen Front', a 5-minute programme suggesting how hard-pressed housewives could make the most of the wartime meagre rations. Even at that early age I recognised the names of most of the performers in the BBC's morning recital but Clara Butt was a new one for me. I can remember the subsequent conversation as though it happened just yesterday.

“I've never heard of Clara Butt,” I said to no-one in particular. “Who is she?”

“She's Dame Clara Butt,” said Grandma excitedly, and turning to her husband added, “James, make sure you get me out of bed in good time to listen – and don't forget or else there'll be trouble!”

“But who is she?” I asked again.

“She's a wonderful contralto,” said Grandma. “I haven't heard her sing since I was a little girl.”

I now know that Dame Clara was a very imposing lady, over six feet tall. Her contralto voice apparently ranged from the C below middle C to high B flat, almost three octaves. She was said to be especially powerful in the lower range where many less able contraltos start to fade out. Sir Thomas Beecham once remarked, in a typical 'sound bite', that on a clear day one could hear Clara Butt from the other side of the English Channel. During the first World War she had raised more than £100,000 for war charities through her public concerts and it was in recognition of this magnificent effort that she was made a Dame Commander of the British Empire.

I don't know if Grandfather woke Grandma in time for the radio broadcast but I certainly listened to it. One of her records the BBC played that morning was the aria “Ombra mai fu” from Handel's opera Xerxes. I already knew Handel's Largo as an orchestral piece but this was the day I discovered that it is really an aria from an opera – a tenor aria at that.

Sadly, that was the last time I ever saw Grandma because a few weeks later she died.