One day, the name Gracie Fields suddenly popped into my head for no apparent reason. Fields was an extremely popular British singer and actor who lived from 1898 to 1979 and was considered the highest paid film star in the world in 1937. But all that was before my time. My only memory of her was that as a little boy in England, one night I was watching the popular TV variety show Sunday Night at the London Palladium, which was must-watch TV in the UK those days, and she was the headliner for that week’s show.
The British had the endearing practice of taking some beloved performers to their bosom and still enjoying them long after their prime (I do not know if that practice still endures) and ‘Our Gracie’ (as she was fondly referred to) was considered a national treasure and could do no wrong in their eyes. Anyway, I remember as a little boy watching her sing and being intrigued by this great affection for an elderly performer. (In looking up her age now, around that time she must have been just about sixty, but to a little child, anyone over forty seems ancient.) That is my only memory of her. So it was strange indeed for that memory of her singing on TV to not only survive for so long but to suddenly pop into my head a few weeks ago after decades of being submerged in my deep unconscious.
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