Mr Pond

I have made frequent mention in recent issues of the 'Sportsman' of Messrs. Spiers and Pond, those old-time lessees of the Cafe de Paris attached to the Theatre Royal, Melbourne, and other ventures of a like character. I enjoyed the personal friendship of Mr. Christopher Pond for some years, and have sweet memories of his 'kindly disposition and good-heartedness. he was the active man in the business, Mr. Spiers being the calculating head. The partners commenced in the 'roaring fifties' in a very small way, exceedingly small when compared with the gigantic proportions their business in England assumed in later years. In the early and mid-fifties in Melbourne there was a number of political agitators, who professed everything political, from placing the entire population upon the land, by means of driving all the squatters across the Murray, to creating fortunes for everybody by means only known to themselves, and to be disclosed only when they got into Parliament.

Amongst the most enthusiastic of those agitators was one named Mooney, who kept the National Hotel at the top of Bourke-street, on the northern side, near Spring-street. There was a music hall attached, which was much frequented by diggers— lucky and unlucky— down for a spree. Mr. Mooney had been to California in 1849, and came to Melbourne in the 'roaring days.' Though keeping a public-house, he was a great advocate for farm life and settling the people upon the land. 'A farm, a vote, and a rifle' was Mr. Mooney's motto, and when the 'roaring' began to cease in the late fifties, Mr. Mooney returned to California, which country he was always careful to say was better suited for agriculture than was Australia. This Mooney (of the National) must not be confounded by old colonists with 'Long Mooney,' a wild Irishman whom long residence in Port Phillip had not tamed.

'Long Mooney' owned and the City Arms at the corner of Lonsdale and Elizabeth streets, and held some adjoining properties, acquired before the fifties began to roar. Mr. Mooney, of the City Arms, was an ancient colonist as years then went, having arrived at the Yarra Yarra before Melbourne was out of long clothes. He got, however, into the clutches of the Colonial Bank, and that Institution held all Mooney's property at his death.

Underneath the National Hotel, when kept by Mooney of 'the farm, the vote, and the rifle,' was a large dining-room which was run by Spiers and Pond. If I remember rightly, it was named the ''Shakespeare Grill,' and had a portrait of the great dramatist as a sign. The bill of fare at the Shakespeare was simple in the extreme; oysters ad lib (if you paid for them) chop or steak with a boiled spud and a half a pint of British beer, the latter brought from Mooney's tap upstairs, and all for the (then) surprisingly low charge of one shilling. Spiers and Pond succeeded well in the cellar, and looked about to extend their usefulness. The cafe attached to the Theatre Royal was then in a most deplorable condition. I think Jimmy Ellis, of the Cremorne Gardens, had something to do with it, but the management was anything but good. Spiers and Pond got a lease of the premises, and transferred their 'grill' there. They did a good business, but it was not until E. P. Hingston ('Sportsman,' Sept. 7) suggested the 'Vestibule' and certain arrangements connected there with that the Cafe de Paris and 'parts adjacent' commenced to disclose improvements. The firm then turned their attention to creature comforts at the old Princess' in Spring-street. A more disreputable-looking structure it would be hard to find. The lessee, George Fawcett, was struggling, with an indifferent company, to make ends meet; the bars, which jutted on the pavement, were as unkempt as the lowest pub on Collingwood Flat, and few of the twitter class of people frequented them. Spiers and Pond got a lease of the bars, and with paint and putty soon put a new face on the place, naming it 'The Piazza.' As at the Vestibule, the Hebes were all attired in black, the attraction at the Piazza being three sisters named Kiley, pretty girls, well educated, of good family and highly respectable and respected. With such attendants the Piazza became an attraction, and with that attraction the fortunes of the theatre became assured. The first big rise the firm made was in 1862. In the previous year they determined to import a team of English cricketers, and for the purpose of making a selection they despatched their book-keeper, Mr. Mallam, with carte-blanche to do the needful. The Spiers and Pond envoy succeeded in getting together twelve good men under the leadership of H. H. Stephenson, the other members of the team, being Bennett, Caffyn, Griffith, Hearne, Mudie, Iddison, Charlie Lawrence, Mortlock, Sewell, E. Stephenson, and George Wells. Caffyn came again in 1864 and remained for some years, commencing a hairdressing business in Hunter-street, subsequently removing to George-street, where, in 187I, he sold out to Mr. John Campbell (Mr. Amory Sullivan's 'young assistant 'barber'). Mr. Charles Lawrence is still in Australia, enjoying a pension from the New South Wales Government Railways, and keeping his hand in by coaching School cricket in Victoria.

The Spiers and Pond XI. played their first match against Eighteen of Victoria on New Year's Day, 1862, on the Melbourne Cricket Ground. The attendance was enormous, and the speculation paid from the jump. I was given to understand that Spiers and Pond cleared something like £16,000 out of their venture. Messrs. Spiers and Pond 'went for' another speculation, but it did not come off, unfortunately for the Australian people. The firm offered Charles Dickens the sum of £10,000 clear, over and above all his travelling expenses and maintenance, for a twelve months' reading tour through the Australian colonies. The gentleman through whom the offer was made pressed upon Dickens the advantages which would accrue to his overwrought system from a perfect rest of six or eight weeks' voyage; and pointed out what a rich and unworked field for the observation and study of character Australia would present to him ; but Dickens could not be induced to accept the engagement ; and while thanking Spiers end Pond for their offer, dwelt up on the large sums he was making by his readings in England, incidentally mentioning that, by announcing one night's reading at St. George's Hall, Liverpool, he was sure of netting at least £300. Mr. Spiers, at a later date, waited upon Dickens In London and renewed the offer, but without success.

Having made 'a pile' in Melbourne, the partners, still devoted to each other, resolved to try their luck in England. Accordingly they sold-out their Melbourne interests to their late bookkeeper, Mr. W. P. Mallam, and Mr. Achilles King, who, however, cannot be said to have emulated Spiers and Pond in money making. At any rate they had not the luck or their predecessors. Spiers and Pond returned to England, where in a few years they revolutionised the system of supplying the London public with refreshments. At the Criterion Theatre and Restaurant, in Piccadilly; built by Spiers and Pond in 1878, at a cost of £80,000; at the Holborn Restaurant, near Southhampton Row; at the refreshment rooms of several railway stations, and at the International Exhibition at Paris, the names of Spiers and Pond became household. The immense strain of the business told upon the health of both partners, principally, however, upon Mr. Pond. This gentleman, whom I knew better than I did Mr. Spiers, had no special advantages of education, and no special training for the business which he had embarked in. He and his partner catered for the great encampment on the Werribee, in 1862, and from their success on that occasion, there could be little doubt but that they could successfully cater for any army. A writer —who knew him well— said of him, on his death in August, 1881, that he was 'sanguine, impulsive and imaginative, his busy mind was continually revolving enterprises on a large scale, some of which he subsequently carried out, in London, while his partner, with a cooler judgment, a more phlegmatic temperament and considerable financial , ability, supplied the necessary restraint to his ardour, and took a severely practical view of Mr. Pond's projects.' Personally, Mr. Pond was popular with all who knew him, and I can recall his tall figure as he stood at the money desk in the cafe, with a pleasant word and smile, and an impressive 'thank you,' for each guest as he departed. 1 can also recall his first and last, and only, appearance upon the stage as an actor when he appeared at the Theatre Royal in the little afterpiece written for the occasion by James Smith, and entitled, 'A Broil at the Cafe.' It was upon the night when a benefit, more as a compliment than for the coin it produced, was tendered the partners upon the eve of their departure for England. Few men, not being themselves given to literature or the fine arts, had a higher appreciation of, or a greater respect for, the manifestation of literary and artistic culture in others than Mr. Pond. 'To gather around him a group of actors and actresses, operatic performers, and men of letters, and to call forth their conversational powers, around a table which bore ample evidence of his lavish hospitality, was one of the delights of his life during the last years of his residence in Melbourne.' Some there are still left who remember some such gatherings at the old Cafe de Paris and in the snug room at the Piazza. Mr. Pond was about 62 years of age at his death.

I have before me a picture of the old Royal in Bourke-street, which is of much interest just now in connection with Spiers and Pond. On the one side— the western— is the Royal Hotel, in the centre 'the vestibule,' and on the right hand, or eastern side, the Cafe de Paris; and adjoining the latter is visible a portion of the establishment of Mr. Bennett, the wig maker, whose manager Mr. John Campbell was. The whole of the frontage of the theatre was leased to Messrs. Spiers and Pond. In the picture, against the columns of the vestibule, are the poster boards with the announcements 'G. V. Brooke and Avonia Jones' distinctly visible. Another poster board bears the announcement of a benefit to the then stage manager, Mr. Richard Younge, the piece chosen being the 'Hunchback.' On the pavement is a group of actors and actresses, and not a few idlers, attracted, no doubt, by the fact that Mr. Davis, the neighboring photographer, had his camera in position, and was about to 'take' the lot. In this group is G. V. Brooke, having on his left hand the lady who had come from England with him as his chief support, Fanny Cathcart, afterwards Mrs. Robert Heir, and subsequently Mrs. George Darrell. On his right stands Mrs. Lambert, wife of one of the best 'old men' Australia has ever seen. In the group also are Lambert, Heir, Dick, Stewart, and many others. Seated in a basket phaeton, is Christopher Pond, then, I remember, slowly recovering from the effects of a broken leg.

One of the English ventures— and a successful one— was 'The Hall by the Sea,' at Margate, under the management of E. P. Hingston, and where for some months — or was it years ? — the attraction was our old Australian friend, Farquharson. One of the best advertisements 'The Hall by the Sea' had was contributed by 'A Special Bohemian', to 'The Orchestra,' in July, 1866. It was dated from 'Margate,' at 'midnight':—

'I am here, Mr. Editor, at Margate.' I came hither on the saloon steamer the Albert Victor, as a guest of the renowned Australians, Spiers and Pond, whose delectable drinks no doubt are familiar to you. I think it was last Saturday I came, but I am not sure. But I am perfectly sure about the Albert Victor, and Spiers and Pond, and the drinks. Pond is the taller of the two, in order to distinguish him from Spiers, for as they are always to be seen together, any less obvious distinction, such as baptism, would be perfectly aimless and ridiculous. They are very jolly to look at, and are the most charming conversationalists in the world. Like the fairies in the nursery story, they only open their mouths to let fall rubies, and pearls, and diamonds for you to gather up. In fact, their speech is always ravishing, like this (murmured gently going down the after-saloon stairs), 'What'll you take to drink?' Or again, 'I think you will like this hock.' Or again, 'What do you say to a little pineapple,' and gems of that nature. On the whole, the voyage to Margate on board the Albert Victor was of the most pleasant description. I did not see much of the scenery on the way down, common politeness keeping me near Spiers and Pond in the lower saloon for the better part of the day; but I am told the look-out was particularly beautiful to those who like that sort of thing. My description, therefore, must be necessarily brief. After we left London Bridge we sailed majestically past Billingsgate. Chelsea, the Tower Hamlets; Kew, and the Eddystone Light (a fine structure, sir, hut I did not see it, being just then particularly engaged with Spiers and Pond in the lower saloon). Scarborough, Hungerford, and Rosherville Gardens; had a chat with the Man-at-the-Nore. and eventually arrived at Margate late in the afternoon.

''We in the lower saloon had known for some time that we were approaching the jetty, from the strong bouquet of Hebrews, wafted on the evening air, and it was with feelings of reluctance that we ascended the wooden stairway and made our way through the lanes of Israel towards shore. Margate, as you know, my dear editor, is a royal burgh, situated opposite Gravesend, and not far from Yarmouth, on the Isle of Thanet. It is one big lodging-house, the people live on shrimps, and wear yellow boots without heels, and machines are 9d, including towels. This is Margate, which, having seen, and having secured a humble apartment, I found it nearly time to rejoin my fast friends, Spiers and Pond at their new 'Hall-by-the-Sea' at the inaugural ceremony incidental to the opening of which we had been invited to assist. The 'Hall-by-the-Sea,' you see is meant to be— well, eh ! a hall by the sea. That is, you can eat and drink as you can only eat and drink chez Spiers and Pond; and in the evening there is a concert, and afterwards a ball and the charge is one shilling. That's a hall by the sea. The hall itself is very pretty, and large and comfortable, though tolerably bad for vocalists. I don't know much about architecture myself, else I would give a long and elaborate description of the hall, but luckily the 'Standard' reporter does, and as he is a friend of mine I make free to borrow his account. 'The hall (he writes) is a longish square, with triangular roof and level walls, divided into compartments.' There you have the whole place lucidly before you, and I need only add that the orchestra is erected about the middle, much in Covent Garden style, with passages at the sides ; that the 'salle' is hung with stuff, festooned with flowers ; that tolerably decent statues are arranged along the walls at intervals, and that the chairs are cleared away after the concert for dancing, to give you the 'tout ensemble' in a sentence. It is bounded on the north by the sea, on the east by the Marine Parade, on the south-west by the railway station, and on the south by nothing in particular.'

(To be continued.)