a poetic tribute to Saddleworth Players by Robert Knotts
(With thanks to Trevor Baxter for his article, which inspired the writing and illustration of this poem.) (illustrations created using Loveart AI)
In Delph, they gathered, the ladies so bright,
At St Thomas’s Church on a frosty night. They sought more joy than hymns and tea, A stage! A script! Some artistry!
The Girls’ Friendly Society took its chance, Exchanged their sewing for song and dance. With laughter loud and a touch of grace, They dreamed of dramas to fill the place.
They wrote to the W.E.A. with flair, “Please fund our plays, we’re going somewhere!” The sponsors agreed, support was hard-won—
And the curtain rose on Act One.
In Saddleworth’s halls, they took to the stage, With jokes and with jingles beyond their young age.
Sketches and revues brought laughter galore Folks left still chuckling, asking for more!
In ’39, with war in the air,
The Players kept acting with courage to spare. Gardens and parks often staged the plays Captivating crowds in many ways.
By bus they travelled, excitement secure,
With a banner that boldly proclaimed, “On Tour!” Leslie Whitehead’s sign, in letters so grand, Forever rebranded the theatrical band.
The venues were tricky, the weather unkind, No dressing rooms anywhere proper to find.
So costumes were donned away from the stage, Awaiting calls from the theatre page.
Saddleworth, a famous tale’s told today, An angel set out at night on his cycling way. With a flat cap and clips, and hearty breath, He frightened a drunk half-nearly to death!
Packing props in ’till the bus about pops,
With paintpots and costumes and wobbly backdrops, They wobble on stage, and the crowd shouts “Encore!”— Then cheerfully pack it to do it once more!
The Saddleworth Players couldn’t sit still,
They toured, come rain, wind, or chill,
They packed it, they played it, then lugged it all back— Enthused as ever, but keeping on track!
The war was over, and they moved to the Dive
In that building in Delph, nine members would thrive.
Long empty it sat, walls crooked and thin, Floors ready to crumble, yet it welcomed them in.
They’d play any hall with a stage and a floor,
In Uppermill’s Hall came embarrassments galore,
The lights would go out—cast would trip, crash, and call— Till a coin hit the meter, restoring it all!
By ’51, the Players found a new lair,
The Mechanics’ Institute with plenty of air.
For just thirty quid a year, they claimed the low floor, And grinned at their luck—what a bargain, for sure!
In ’52, the theatre swung open its door, With “The Paragon” and excitement galore. For just ‘leven pence, you could take a seat,
And watch the Players make chaos look neat!
For twenty years, there the Players did stay,
The stage was well-kept, but the loos brought dismay The ceilings leaned dangerously, with failing spars, While Delph eyed the building as a place to park cars.
The Council bought a building, both dusty and old, The Mechanics came down to make parking space bold. The Players cashed in and gave the Co-op a new face,
Now, Millgate Centre’s theatre shines in its place!
Spring ’72 saw the Mechanics bow out,
Its stage had served well, beyond a shadow of doubt.
In November ’73, the Millgate shone bright,
“The Italian Straw Hat” took the stage on its very first night!
Near a century on, the Players still play, Delighting the crowds in their own marvellous way.
From creaky old halls to Millgate’s bright dome, They’re still at their best—and right at home!
From youthful hope to theatrical old age, Our Saddleworth Players have trodden the stage.
Long may they face a huge curtain call. This story ends with thanks to them all.