Stephen Tennant - A Queer Walking Tour Preview

Warren Street Underground Station Warren Street Underground Station was first opened in 1907 and is the gateway to Fitzrovia and Bloomsbury.

And the location of course of the Bloomsbury Group

Please be aware of your physical surroundings at all times. London is a vibrant, busy city with lots of traffic and other pedestrians. We want you to enjoy this tour so please don't forget to pay attention when crossing the road and keep your personal items safe.

Tennant was an excellent artist and attended the Slade School in 1922 aged just 16. More on Tennant’s art later. The significance of this stop is that it is where he met Rex Whistler in the same year. Whistler was an artist who painted murals and society portraits and was later killed in action in Normandy during WWII.

Whistler was hugely talented and painted many of the Bright Young Things, including Cecil Beaton, who was also extremely close to Tennant.

In Tennant’s biography ‘Serious Pleasures’ Philip Hoare writes.

“To Stephen, Whistler appeared ‘plump, thickset, very boyish… with a manner both impulsive and diffident.’ Rex’s own initial impression of Stephen was that of a ‘slender figure, extraordinary beauty, like a more delicate Shelley’; and it was his poetry that established the bond between them.”

“The boys shared a love of legends and mythology and found a ‘strong reciprocal bond in the passionate vividness of our imaginations’. They also loved American cars and Hollywood movies, westerns being particularly favoured. They hummed American pop songs of the day and mooned over white-faced heroines of the silver screen. When signing in for the morning, Stephen would write alongside Rex’s name comments such as ‘Disgracefully late’, ‘Report on arrival’ or ‘Unnecessarily early’.”

“Stephen and Rex undertook expeditions together, to the Department of Egyptology at the British Museum, or on boat trips down the Thames, to the Pool of London, in ‘romantic moonlight… dressed as bargees’. There were wild parties with friends in Hampstead, afterwards walking on the Heath ‘for miles in the dawn, singing - all arm in arm - in the summer dawn.’ For the two young boys, it was their ‘Kingdom by the Sea’ - a line from Poe’s “Annabel Lee” that they would use on the backs of envelopes in letters to each other.

In April 1926, Rex gave Stephen, most likely as a 20th birthday present, a book of Shelley's verse. Two years later in May 1928, Rex designed a suit for Stephen who made 'a wonderful impersonation of the poet to Oliver Messel's Byron at the Countess of Birkenhead's charity matinée.'

The Bloomsbury Group, synonymous with the Bright Young Things in which Tennant often took great pleasure in being an active member of, held very progressive views on sexuality, and many of its members where LGBT(and would probably have defined as ‘Queer’ if they were around today) including Tennant and Woolf, who herself had numerous lesbian relationships. The complexity of the entangled relationships amongst the Bloomsbury Set can be seen in this description of some of its members:

Notable founder Duncan Grant had affairs with the likes of Adrian Stephen and Maynard Keynes along with his longer term relationship with Vanessa Bell (who prior had affairs with artist and critic, Roger Fry) which had largely progressed into an open relationship, and Grant continuing his relationship with Lytton Strachey, (who had also been Grant’s cousin), however Lytton had remained in three-way relationship with painter Dora Carrington and writer Ralph Partridge, Lytton had also proposed to Virginia much earlier in 1909, but had retracted his proposal the following day, later urging his friend Leonard to marry her.

Virginia Woolf, key and prominent writer within the Bloomsbury Group had, by the decline of the Bloomsbury set in the late 30s, written several books and essays on both feminism and sex. Notably, Woolf’s novel Orlando: A Biography, which incorporates themes of homosexuality as well as transgenderism, inspired by her relationship with fellow ‘Bloomsburian’, Vita Sackville-West who herself enjoyed crossdressing, going under the name ‘Julian’.

“Dearest, at this moment I would give my soul to the Devil if I could kiss you and be kissed.”

Duncan Grant in his letter to John Maynard Keynes

The home of Bobby Britt, who orbited the same scenes as Tennant, and was arrested here at his home in halfdrag, during one of his legendary queer house parties in 1927. Britt was found guilty of the crime of being himself and was sentenced to 15 months hard labour.

Sergeant’s undercover report on the flat:

“At 11.45pm I saw two men leave. They were undoubtedly of the Nancy type. They walked cuddling one another to Tottenham Court Road, where they stood waiting for a bus. I stood close to them and saw their faces were powdered and painted and their appearance and manner strongly suggested them to be importuners of men.”

Finally, the sergeant had enough evidence to warrant a raid:

“I found a red light burning over the area door, downstairs from the street. I knocked and the prisoner [Bobby’s friend Constance] opened. I told her we were police officers and held a warrant to arrest her. She said ‘that is not true. Bobby was going to give us a Salome dance’.In the front room we saw the prisoner [Bobby]. He was wearing a thin black transparent skirt, with gilt trimming round the edge and a red sash that was tied round his loins. He wore lady shoes and was naked from the loins upwards.”

(As an aside, the Salome Dance refers to the dance in Oscar Wilde’s highly controversial, erotic and blasphemous play, most famously performed by Maud Allan at the Palace Theatre during WWI. Allan was also controversial, having unsuccessfully sued the independent conservative politician Sir Noel Pemberton Billing who had accused her of having a lesbian affair with Margot Asquith, the wife of the ex-Prime Minister.)

The judge at Bobby Britt’s trial concluded that this was a ‘disorderly house’ because it was ‘not regulated by the constraints of morality’ and featured ‘disgusting practices (sodomy), tippling, whoring, using obscene language and behaving in a lewd, obscene and disorderly manner’.

During the raid, the police found letters they could use to incriminate and prosecute other gay or queer men. Here is one written by someone called Eric, to ‘Peter darling’:

“I might be able to call you about 7.30 if you would care for a ride, and then we can fool around. If you feel at all inclined to come just wait for further news, which I will get to you by hook or crook but be prepared to be let down. I’m ever so sorry darling, as you know I would do everything for an extra evening with you, but you see how things are don’t you? Thank you, Peter boy for ringing me up. You voice sounded wonderful, and I wanted to shout out to all the office and come and tell them that I was in love with you. What a good job I restrained myself, wasn’t it. I’m sorry I couldn’t say more to you but the room was full up with people.”

And another:

“You say that you could never love me, but that you offer me friendship, which you say is far greater than love. I cannot agree with you about this my dear…I must confess that I don’t see how I can keep love out of my side of the friendship. It is a simple true fact that I love you baby dear.”

The use of these personal love letters as evidence by police demonstrates the very real danger of ‘practicing’ homosexuality in the 1920s. However, the open declaration of love within these letters highlights the continued resilience of gay and queer men on this scene.

With warrants on private houses harder (but not impossible) to obtain, houses like Bobby’s offered spaces for this love and resilience to incubate, grow and thrive away from actual clubs, pubs, bars and indeed public toilets.

After his spell in prison, Bobby went on to become a highly successful dancer, working with Cecil Beaton and Noël Coward.

In the 1950’s Tennant’s work was displayed internationally, as well as in London, including here, one of the previous sites of Gallery One. By this point Tennant was middle aged (or completely ancient using the Bright Young Things approach to dealing with ageing!); 50 at the time of his exhibition in 1956.

Gallery One was an experimental and pioneering contemporary art gallery run by the poet and art dealer Victor Musgrave (1919-1984). It opened in 1953, at 1 Litchfield Street, just off the Charing Cross Road and shared the space with the photographic studio of Ida Kar (1908-1974), Musgrave’s wife from 1945, which was on the upper floor. After a short while, it moved here to 20 D’Arblay Street and then on to Mayfair, an area more traditionally associated with commercial art galleries.

Across all three locations, Gallery One offered a place for artists not only to exhibit their work but to hang out and meet one another; it was a social space and gathering point for London’s creative community. Because Musgrave was known as a writer and poet, as well an art dealer, it attracted a wide and interesting circle, which would have appealed to Tennant’s sense of sociability. A perfect place therefore for his art to be displayed.

This description of Gallery One from The Times from about the same time, could almost be a description for Tennant himself:

"The wayward individualist of the West End galleries, unpredictable and outré at times, nearly always a stranger to fashionable taste, often leading towards colourful eccentricity and uninhibited emotional attitudes, but always courageous and ready to back the artist who fits none of the obvious categories."

Opened in 1925 by Tennant’s brother David, The Gargoyle Club became a ‘20s institution frequented by artists, intellectuals, writers and socialites combining bohemianism with glamour and style. With an extravagant mirrored decor designed by Henri Matisse and two of his paintings hanging in the bar and on the staircase respectively, The Gargoyle Club was the centre of London bohemia until it's decline in the 1950s.

It was rumoured that the building was haunted by Nelly Gwyn, a fruit seller and actress who was also a mistress of King Charles II. This is why a later iteration of the club (a strip club) was called Nell Gwyn.

There were fireplaces in the dining room (which could seat 140), a fountain on the dance floor, a gold leaf-painted ceiling and gargoyles made of wood that served as lanterns. Moorish influences were strong, including mosaic work. Matisse designed a breath-taking steel and brass staircase. The glass in the dance hall came from a French chateau and the famed Stephen Tennant – A Queer Walking Tour painter said he wanted it to be “covered in small squares of old French mirrors, cut up to produce a general sparkle.”

Writer and member Stanley Jackson described the club in his 1942 An Indiscreet Guide to Soho:

“The decor is bright but tasteful and Matisse gave his expert advice. Several of his drawings of ballet girls grace the upstairs bar which is a cheerful spot always crowded with people discussing art, politics, or women in the liveliest way. ‘My unpaid cabaret,’ David Tennant calls them…The restaurant downstairs seats 140 and its ceiling and general design have been modelled on the Alhambra at Granada. The mirrors are particularly attractive, unless you have drunk too much gin! The four-piece band led by Alec Alexander, suits the style of the club. It delivers lively, cheerful music that you can dance to without having your nerves torn to shreds. Alec knows all the members and seems to enjoy playing requests.”

Despite the opulence, everyone lucky enough to enter the Gargoyle did so through a tiny, rickey external elevator. And getting the chance to go was truly a not to be missed opportunity. The Daily Telegraph wrote of its opening night that the member list, which included some 300 people, “probably contains more famous names in society and the arts than any other purely social club.”

During the day, the club was popular for work lunches before being transformed into the hottest spot for nightlife, what composer Constant Lambert described as packed with “the two hundred nastiest people.” Long nights would lead to early morning after-parties at the Cavendish Hotel, another Bright Young People haunt. Their shenanigans were captured by photographer Cecil Beaton, and members would not hesitate to dress up for the occasion, often wearing old-fashioned regalia and other extravagant looks.

The coming war years dealt a blow to the Bright Young Things, not the least because some of its members proved to be on the wrong side of history, notably John Amery, who was a Nazi collaborator and sentenced to death for treason. Despite some members queer identity and interest in leftist politics, many others had far-right and even fascist tendencies.

On this point, it is worth noting why the club was supposedly set up in the first place. David Tennant ostensibly set up the club in order to have a place to dance with his girlfriend, the famous actress Hermione Baddeley. Baddeley (famous to younger audiences as playing the maid in Mary Poppins) was on the periphery of the Bright Young Things circuit, and in the same year that the Gargoyle Club was founded appeared alongside Tennant’s friends Ivor Novello and Noël Coward at the Carnival Ball of the British Fascists.

In his later years Tennant lost the rakish figure that had made him famous during the Bright Young Things era.

He travelled the globe and had become, in the words of Osbert Sitwell, ‘the last professional beauty,’ ‘Reeking of perfume,’ ‘covered with foundation,’ with ribbons hanging from his dyed comb-over hairdo, he rested ‘non-stop’ for the next 17 years in ‘decorative reclusion.’

Unconcerned about becoming overweight, Tennant declared: 'But I'm beautiful, and the more of me there is the better, I like it!'.

He lay in bed surrounded by his jewellery, drawings and Elvis Presley postcards surrounded by pink and gold statues in the overgrown garden, the fishnets and seashells everywhere, the tiny uncaged pet lizards, the bursting pipes and rotting carpets, the mice still in the traps.

Tennant painted the tops of his legs with pancake makeup and proudly showed his ‘suntan’ to astonished visitors like Princess Elizabeth of Yugoslavia, David Bailey, Christopher Isherwood and David Hockney.

According to the artist Michael Wishart; "To call Stephen affected would be like calling an acrobat a show-off, or a golden pheasant vulgar."

In his youth completely protected by class, Tennant couldn't care less what people thought of his finger waves, leopard pyjamas, makeup or dyed hair dusted with gold. In his later years, he would sometimes stop traffic in nearby country towns by going shopping wearing tight pink shorts or a tablecloth as a skirt.

‘The last of the professional beauties’ died in 1987 aged 81.