It’s not easy to think about events 76 years ago. But we are lucky enough to have a vivid story of the night before Xmas in the year that World War II came at last to an end. The Luyt family owned and managed the Marine throughout the war years, but the father (P John Luyt) died in 1940, and Mrs Joey Luyt and her daughters had carried on for the remainder of the time. Berdine, the eldest daughter, was with her Mom throughout, and Paddy and Connie had been there for much of the time.
The daughters filled the role of ‘entertainments managers’ for the hotel, and they planned and carried out the events organised for the guests on the evening in question.
There are a few facts that a modern reader possibly needs to know:
• Letters were the only way of communicating over long distances. There were telephones linked by wires overland and under the sea, but in wartime, you could not use the long-distance calls (or ‘trunk calls) especially for a frivolous matter such as a message from Father Christmas.
• “roneo” was a primitive method of copying typed messages, used before photocopying and long before texting.
• The ‘carrier pigeon’ is a joke.
• ‘Instant’ means ‘this month’.
• “Orchestras’ had slightly more members than a band and were usually distinguished by featuring a violin. Only posh hotels used orchestras.
• A ‘frock’ was a slightly less formal dress, and ‘very short’ meant above the knee.
• ‘A sea of black coats’ was caused by men in formal dinner jackets surging forward to dance with Mrs Christmas. Dinner jackets were obligatory wear at all dinners at the Marine Hotel.
24 December 1945
We decided to do our Xmas differently this year, as we hear that our Christmas-Tree-on-Christmas¬ Day is being copied by other hotels. We gathered together, as usual, in Room No. 3. Paddy said we must think of something different!”
“What about a Mother Christmas?” Ginger tentatively suggested. We looked at each other, delightedly, our minds working as one.
“Father Christmas with a wife!” Connie exclaimed. “Just married!” I affirmed.
“Connie!” said Paddy.
Ginger looked surprised. “I thought you’d choose some motherly old duck,” he said.
“Motherly! Pooh·!”Excitedly interrupting each other, we elucidated. And then we went to work.
At lunchtime, on the 24 December, we distributed roneoed copies of a letter purporting to have been received from Father Christmas to say that he would arrive at 9 .30 p.m. on Xmas Eve instead of Xmas Day as usual.
COPY OF A LETTER RECEIVED BY THE HOTEL MANAGEMENT THIS MORNING BY CARRIER PIGEON POST
Due to enormous pressure of work on this, the first post-war Christmas, and for various family reasons, I will arrive at your hotel at 9.30 p.m. on Christmas Eve the 24th instant instead of during Christmas Day as usual. I hope this time will be convenient for you and your Guests
Yours faithfully
FATH ER CHRISTM AS
We had the usual dance that evening, and by 9.30 pm, every guest in the hotel was there, either dancing or sitting on the chairs around the walls, waiting to see what we were up to this time. Meanwhile, we had been very busy indeed. Our Father Christmas was Dr Franklin Bishop, from Kimberley. At about nine o’clock, he disappeared quietly to change into his costume, and so did Connie. (Connie had spent the past few days making both costumes). Shortly afterwards, Paddy left, as she had to help Dr Bishop with his beard, and then smuggle him and Connie down the back stairs and outside via the kitchen and yard, then round the back of the hotel to the west side of the ballroom.
At 9.20 pm, I was racing across the lawns with a small ‘bankie’ clasped in my arms. This had to be in position outside the end ballroom window, the curtains of which had already been drawn together; I also had to see that this window (a long one) was wide open at the bottom. The orchestra had their instructions, and the dancing was carefully timed so that there was a short interval at 9.15, the music commencing again at 9.20. A few minutes later, Ginger and I were doing a sort of nightclub shuffle in front of the all-important window to prevent anyone from opening the curtains. At 9.30 precisely, Paddy’s signal came; coming into the ballroom from the stoep, she simply switched off all the lights. Ginger and I were ready and, while the dancers milled about in surprise, the bankie was lifted through and placed in position below the window. Father Christmas climbed in and stood poised on the bankie; the curtains still drawn behind him. I signaled the orchestra, and Ginger switched on the one light near the window to an impressive roll of the drums; the rest of the ballroom remained in darkness.
People clapped enthusiastically, then hushed, as Father Christmas began to speak, looking very effective in his long red robe and beard. He said that he was on his way to England and that this was the reason for his appearance at the Marine Hotel earlier than usual. He had not brought any presents with him this year, but he hoped to take a present away with him to the brave people of Britain – a donation from those present to the ‘Food for Britain Fund’. After the applause died down, he held up his hand for silence.
“I have something further to tell you, good people,” he said. “I have just got married, and I have not been able to leave my bride behind but have brought her with me. When you see her, you will understand why. I would like to introduce Mrs Christmas.”
Turning, he parted the curtains and helped Connie through the window. Connie stood on the bankie beside him, eyes modestly cast down to terrific applause and wolf whistles. She wore a very short red velvet frock, with a flared skirt and tight bodice (rather like a skater’s costume), edged with cotton wool, and a red velvet bonnet tied under her chin with a big red satin bow: she wore thin black silk stockings and high-heeled black shoes. She looked extremely delectable.
When Father Christmas could make himself heard again, he went on to say that he and his bride would like to join the dancing for a while, but he would only allow Mrs Christmas to dance with other gentlemen if he was bribed to do so. And” he added with a twinkle, “I trust that all you gentlemen are prepared to bribe me quite heavily.”
The orchestra started up again, and Connie hopped off the bankie to be immediately submerged in a sea of black coats. Father Christmas hovered near her, recording the amount of time she was allowed to spend with each partner, according to the bribe he had received. They collected £25 in two hours; at the end, they both felt considerably battered, so retired.
Excerpt from ‘Luyt’s Marine: a Diary of the Years 1942-1047’ by Berdine Luyt, edited by Robin Le, 2014)
Copies available from The Book Cottage, Hermanus.