Before Fred and Ginger, there was Fred and Adele.
Oct 29, 2012, Vol. 18, No. 07 • By AMY HENDERSON
Their dance style was becoming more distinctive as well by the early 1920s. In Life magazine, Robert Benchley exclaimed that “when they dance, everything seems brighter.” And although Fred was earning plaudits as the dancing star, Adele was emerging as a prototypical flapper. Riley explains that she didn’t fit any of the current showgirl or musical star molds but had a personality that resonated with the twenties’ emerging roar. A Boston critic described her as “the freedom of youth and grace personified, an airy bubble of personality from her agile toes to her wildly tossing curls.”
By the mid-1920s, the Astaires were appearing both on Broadway and on the London stage, notably in such Gershwin shows as Lady, Be Good (1924) and Funny Face (1927). Alexander Woollcott wrote that Fred’s feet and Gershwin’s music “were written in the same key.” They wowed postwar London when they first appeared in 1923 in Stop Flirting. Their effervescence made them the toast of the town, and they were swept up in the remarkable young coterie that included Noel Coward, Gertrude Lawrence, and John Gielgud, who wrote that they “perked up the whole season.” As Riley perceptively notes, they “were the sweet voice of life and hope and thus symbolically distant from both the horror of the Great War and the ennui of its aftermath.” Their popularity soared:
Their names and images endorsed toothbrushes, shampoo, cold cream, shoes, and Waterman pens. Royalty endorsed them as well, and Fred and Adele soon made appearances at St. James’s Palace to show off such popular steps as the Charleston to the Prince of Wales and Louis and Edwina Mountbatten. Adele was captivated by George Bernard Shaw, whose voice she thought “could melt ice.” (Ultimately, her heart was captured by Lord Charles Cavendish, whom she would marry in 1932.)
Fred and Adele’s last appearance together was in The Band Wagon (1931), which triumphed both on Broadway and in London. In his memoir, Fred seems to write diffidently of Adele’s departure: “She retired from theatrical life on the evening of 5 March 1932, at the Illinois Theatre, Chicago. It was not a sad affair.” When he received a Lifetime Achievement Award from the American Film Institute in 1981, he was more forthcoming: “My sister Adele was mostly responsible for my being in show business. . . . In all the vaudeville acts we had and the musical comedies we did together, Delly was the one that was the shining light and I was just there pushing away.”
Happily, Fred Astaire heard Hollywood’s siren call after Adele retired—although he was not smitten by RKO’s plans to make him part of another team. David O. Selznick, head of production, was a great fan and had lobbied for Fred to be cast, but his screen test was not a crashing success (although Riley says the legendary critique, “Can’t act. Slightly bald. Also dances,” is probably apocryphal). But when RKO teamed him with Ginger Rogers, Astaire wrote his agent Leland Hayward in capital letters on February 9, 1934: “WHAT’S ALL THIS TALK ABOUT ME BEING TEAMED WITH GINGER ROGERS? I WILL NOT HAVE IT LELAND—I DID NOT GO INTO PICTURES TO BE TEAMED WITH HER OR ANYONE ELSE.”
What if Leland Hayward had listened to Fred Astaire?
The bigger what-if posed at the beginning of this delightful volume is: What if Fred Astaire had been an only child? What a profoundly less interesting world it would have been, as Riley explains that “the shows written for
The Astaires’ story can be chronicled in photographs, reviews, and a few recordings, notably from Funny Face in the late 1920s. But there is no footage of them performing together except for a few tantalizing seconds from the end of a 1930 short entitled Backstage on Broadway. Now, by illuminating the formative decades of Fred’s life, Kathleen Riley gives us a sense of how, before Ginger and Hollywood, Adele helped create the icon known as Fred Astaire.
Amy Henderson is a writer and museum curator in Washington.