Peel and Curtis: They appeared at the Birmingham Hippodrome on the week commencing 8th Feb.1932. The manager of the theatre wrote, “Peel & Curtis proclaim the fact that they are the only two Scotch Jews in captivity. They supply a racy Humorous act in which agreeable singing is cleverly intermixed”.
This ‘snippet’ of information was supplied by
Max Tyler of the Theatre History Archives.
Meredyth Taylor tells us:
Billy Curtis married my great Aunt Bessie Cousins. They settled in California. They had a daughter called Esther/Estelle, Esta.
His Hebrew was Lazarus and his last name was Julius, which became Curtis when his family came over from the old country (they were probably from the same region that Grand-dad Coussins was from. He was #9 of 10, born in Edinburgh, right below Arthur’s Seat, which was the Jewish ghetto at the time. He was born July 21st 1896 or 7, and died in February 1981. He would have been 89 yrs old. He left home at a very early age, probably 13 at most, and began traveling Great Britain and the World—he was in South Africa as a very young man himself. He also came to America as well, but return home at some point, met and married Bessie. Esta and I miss him very much. He babysat me a lot when I was very young. I loved hanging-out with my grand-dad—he was great at telling stories. He would put me on his lap and would always begin by saying “and now voyager……………” He loved to cook. He made the best Latkies and turkey vegetable soup I’ve ever eaten. To this day I can’t eat a Latkie without comparing it to my Grand-dad’s.
I’m not sure but I think my Grand-father was already in California at the time when television was just getting off the ground (1952/3), and he never mentioned any offers of a T.V. show to my mother—but it would have been wonderful to have had Billy on T.V. …………….BTY, Billy was “Leslie William or William Leslie Curtis, depending on the phase of the moon.
Lazarus Julius (possibly Barnstein) In the days when people came to the United Kingdom and America, if the immigration officers of that time did not understand the last name they either dropped it or changed it to one that they could understand. (Esta)
However, here’s a story that your dad told me when I was very young—you probably know it as well:
One afternoon your dad, Harold and Leslie were playing in a field close to home in Glasgow in the Gorbals. So there they were minding their own business when a Polis (Policeman) came by and told the to get along as they were trespassing. The Polis wanted to scare them, so he asked them their names: Jack said, “I’m Jack Coussins”, Harold said “I’m Harold Coussins” and then Leslie said “I’m Leslie Coussins.” The Polis took a long look forward and replied: “oh, so your brothers?” and Jack said “no, we’re cousins…….evidentially (on that response) they had to run for their lives as the Polis was pretty angry as he thought they we’re pulling his leg.
I also remember arriving in Scotland and meeting Alan Cousins in my 17th year—we got along pretty well, and he took me to see a number of the local sites, including my first visit to St. Andrews. It seemed that every town we stopped in had a butcher shop selling Haggis. Having grown up in California, I’d never heard of such a thing, so I asked him about it; you know, what was it? He assured me that we’d go hunting for wild Haggis before I returned to L.A. I’m sure the Scots have great fun taunting foreigners with the same reply—but I still chuckle when I think about it.
It’s wonderful corresponding with you….It’s wonderful finding family—I have so little of it being an only child, and Esta is getting old, and I would like to stay in touch with whatever family I have left no matter the distance.
Esta and I will get together and send along our favorite pictures very soon, and I’m sure she has quite a few stories she’ll be willing to share.
Meradyth L. Tayler 380 e Kingsley Avenue Pomona, CA 91767 Phone: 909-623-4023 Nimbus380@aol.com E4Esta@aol.com
California
The Peel and Curtis Style of one liners
You Know You’re Jewish When…
You spent your entire childhood thinking everyone called pot roast “brisket.”
You grew up thinking it was normal for someone to shout “Are you okay? Are you okay?” through the bathroom door when you were in there longer than 3 minutes.
Your family dog responded to commands in Yiddish.
Every Saturday morning your father went to the neighbourhood deli (called an “appetizing store”) for whitefish salad, whitefish (“chubs”), lox (nova if you were rich!), herring, corned beef, roast beef, coleslaw, potato salad, a 1/2-dozen huge barrel pickles, a dozen assorted bagels, cream cheese and rye bread (sliced while he waited) .. all of which would be strictly off-limits until Sunday morning.
Every Sunday afternoon was spent visiting your grandparents and/or other relatives.
You experienced the phenomenon of 50 people fitting into a 10-foot-wide dining room hitting each other with plastic plates trying to get to a deli tray.
You had at least one female relative who pencilled on eyebrows which were always asymmetrical.
You thought pasta was stuff used exclusively for Kugel and kasha with bowties.
You were as tall as your grandmother by the age of seven.
You were as tall as your grandfather by the age seven and a half.
You never knew anyone whose last name didn’t end in one of 5 standard suffixes (berg, baum, man, stein and witz.)
You were surprised to discover that wine doesn’t always taste like cranberry sauce.
You can look at gefilte fish and not turn green.
Your mother smacked you really hard and continues to make you feel bad for hurting her hand.
You can understand Yiddish but you can’t speak it.
You know how to pronounce numerous Yiddish words and use them correctly in context, yet you don’t exactly know what they mean. Kinahurra.
You’re still angry at your parents for not speaking both Yiddish and English to you when you were a baby.
You have at least one ancestor who is somehow related to your spouse’s ancestor.
Your grandparent’s newly washed linoleum floor was covered with the Times, which your grandparents could not read.
You thought speaking loud was normal.
You considered your Bar or Bat Mitzvah a “Get Out of Hebrew School Free” card.
You think eating half a jar of dill pickles is a wholesome snack.
You’re compelled to mention your grandmother’s “steel cannonballs” upon seeing fluffy matzo balls served at restaurants.
You buy 3 shopping bags worth of hot bagels on every trip to the city and ship them home via courier post . (Or you walk or drive for 3 hours just to buy a dozen “real” bagels.)
Your mother took personal pride when a Jew was noted for some accomplishment (showbiz, medicine, politics, etc.) and was ashamed and embarrassed when a Jew was accused of a crime .. as if they were relatives.
You thought sleep away college was only where non-Jews went … Jews went to city schools … unless they had scholarships or made a private school.
Sunday night and the night after any Jewish holiday was designated for Chinese food.
You’re proud to be Jewish – and you pass these jokes on to all your Jewish friends!
1. Under same management for over 5763 years.
2. Don’t give up. Moses was once a basket case.
3. What part of “Thou shalt not” don’t you understand?
4. Shul committees should be made up of three members, two of whom should be
absent at every meeting.
5. Sign over the urinal in a bathroom at Hebrew University: “The future of
the Jewish people is in your hands.”
6. My mother is a typical Jewish mother. Once she was on jury duty. They
sent her home. She insisted SHE was guilty.
7. Any time a person goes into a delicatessen and orders a pastrami on white
bread, somewhere a Jew dies.
8. It was mealtime during a flight on El Al. “Would you like dinner?,”the
flight attendant asked Moshe, seated in front. “What are my
choices?,” Moshe asked. “Yes, or no,” she replied.
9. An elderly Jewish man is knocked down by a car and is brought to the
local hospital. A pretty nurse tucks him into bed and says, “Mr.Gevarter,
are you comfortable?” Gevarter replies, “I make a nice living….”
10. A rabbi was opening his mail one morning. Taking a single sheet of paper
from an envelope he found written on it only one word: “shmuck.” At the next
Friday night service, the Rabbi announced, “I have known many people who
have written letters and forgot to sign their names, but this week I
received a letter from someone who signed his name…. and forgot to write a
letter.
11. Three Jewish women get together for lunch. As they are being seated in
the restaurant, one takes a deep breath and gives a long, slow “oy.” The
second takes a deep breath as well and lets out a long, slow “oy.” The third
takes a deep breath and says impatiently, “Girls, I thought we agreed that
we weren’t going to talk about our children.”
12. And one final favourite: A waiter comes over to a table full of Jewish
women and asks, “Is anything all right?”
