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Authors: Patrick McGilligan
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had a sparkling wit,” said Moore, “but it was not only the things he said but the spontaneous and unexpected things he
did
which gave us aching sides and streaming eyes. On every outing to which he went he bubbled over with joyous fooling and sent us home stiff with laughter.”
Not only did Hitchcock help run the
Telegraph
, but, as improbable as it seems, he also figured in Henley’s recreational activities. He entered billiards tournaments and organized the Henley’s soccer club. He followed boxing, tennis, racing, and soccer; years later, in Hollywood, he told associateshe subscribed to the London newspapers partly to monitor the West Ham club scores.
Hitchcock supervised Henley’s soccer team for several seasons—quite possibly at a financial loss to himself, given his already established hatred of bookkeeping. “He never did value money and would always rather pay out of his own pocket than be worried with the keeping of records,” remembered Moore.
Although he professed never to have had a bona fide date with a woman other than his wife (and there’s little evidence to doubt him), at company-sponsored occasions Hitchcock did socialize freely with female employees. This included evenings at the Cripplegate Institute on nearby Golden Lane, a small hall that presented lectures, entertainments, and classes. He took waltz and ballroom dance lessons at Cripplegate, sponsored by Henley’s: then, and later in life, Hitchcock was a surprisingly light-footed dancer, and he larded his films with memorable dance and ballroom sequences.
The dance lessons were presided over by a man named William Graydon, whose acquaintance with Hitchcock exerted a profound effect on the future filmmaker. At one time the Graydons lived quite near the Hitchcocks in Leytonstone, and the two families, both Catholic and theatrically inclined, may have known each other before Cripplegate. Graydon was the father of one Edith Thompson, who at times, along with her younger sister Avis, helped out with the Cripplegate classes. Edith also appeared in amateur productions in London, which, given Hitchcock’s interest in the stage, he may well have attended. Certainly Hitchcock was acquainted with Edith, although he never admitted as much on the record. He spoke primarily of knowing her father.
In 1923, Edith Thompson was hanged along with her lover, Frederick Bywaters, after being found guilty of complicity in the murder of her husband. Though Bywaters did the actual killing, Thompson was alleged to have incited the crime. The controversial trial and execution made the case one of England’s most sensational in the 1920s, dominating headlines and public debate for months. To have had such a close tie to this young woman, whom many believed to be falsely convicted, surely affected Hitchcock. Surely it influenced his view of crime and punishment, and the many Hitchcock plotlines in which women, if often murder victims, are rarely clear-cut killers.
In the 1960s Hitchcock discussed the Edith Thompson case with a British journalist who also prided himself on being a crime buff. Each boasted of having devoured all the sources. Hitchcock had read
A Pin to See the Peepshow
, the 1934 roman à clef about the celebrated crime, and attended
People Like Us
, a stage play based on the incident. (He knew the playwright, Frank Vosper, who acted in
Waltzes from Vienna
and
TheMan Who Knew Too Much.
) Both Hitchcock and the journalist professed to have inside knowledge of the execution; the journalist claimed that Thompson had grown so hysterical as doom approached that guards had to tie her to a small wooden chair before drawing the noose around her neck.
“Oh no, my boy,” Hitchcock interjected, his eyes glinting. “That’s not the way it was at all. She was hanged in a bosun’s chair.”
“What’s that, Mr. Hitchcock?” asked the journalist, though he had some idea. (The dictionary describes it as a wooden board slung by a rope, to be used by
did
which gave us aching sides and streaming eyes. On every outing to which he went he bubbled over with joyous fooling and sent us home stiff with laughter.”
Not only did Hitchcock help run the
Telegraph
, but, as improbable as it seems, he also figured in Henley’s recreational activities. He entered billiards tournaments and organized the Henley’s soccer club. He followed boxing, tennis, racing, and soccer; years later, in Hollywood, he told associateshe subscribed to the London newspapers partly to monitor the West Ham club scores.
Hitchcock supervised Henley’s soccer team for several seasons—quite possibly at a financial loss to himself, given his already established hatred of bookkeeping. “He never did value money and would always rather pay out of his own pocket than be worried with the keeping of records,” remembered Moore.
Although he professed never to have had a bona fide date with a woman other than his wife (and there’s little evidence to doubt him), at company-sponsored occasions Hitchcock did socialize freely with female employees. This included evenings at the Cripplegate Institute on nearby Golden Lane, a small hall that presented lectures, entertainments, and classes. He took waltz and ballroom dance lessons at Cripplegate, sponsored by Henley’s: then, and later in life, Hitchcock was a surprisingly light-footed dancer, and he larded his films with memorable dance and ballroom sequences.
The dance lessons were presided over by a man named William Graydon, whose acquaintance with Hitchcock exerted a profound effect on the future filmmaker. At one time the Graydons lived quite near the Hitchcocks in Leytonstone, and the two families, both Catholic and theatrically inclined, may have known each other before Cripplegate. Graydon was the father of one Edith Thompson, who at times, along with her younger sister Avis, helped out with the Cripplegate classes. Edith also appeared in amateur productions in London, which, given Hitchcock’s interest in the stage, he may well have attended. Certainly Hitchcock was acquainted with Edith, although he never admitted as much on the record. He spoke primarily of knowing her father.
In 1923, Edith Thompson was hanged along with her lover, Frederick Bywaters, after being found guilty of complicity in the murder of her husband. Though Bywaters did the actual killing, Thompson was alleged to have incited the crime. The controversial trial and execution made the case one of England’s most sensational in the 1920s, dominating headlines and public debate for months. To have had such a close tie to this young woman, whom many believed to be falsely convicted, surely affected Hitchcock. Surely it influenced his view of crime and punishment, and the many Hitchcock plotlines in which women, if often murder victims, are rarely clear-cut killers.
In the 1960s Hitchcock discussed the Edith Thompson case with a British journalist who also prided himself on being a crime buff. Each boasted of having devoured all the sources. Hitchcock had read
A Pin to See the Peepshow
, the 1934 roman à clef about the celebrated crime, and attended
People Like Us
, a stage play based on the incident. (He knew the playwright, Frank Vosper, who acted in
Waltzes from Vienna
and
TheMan Who Knew Too Much.
) Both Hitchcock and the journalist professed to have inside knowledge of the execution; the journalist claimed that Thompson had grown so hysterical as doom approached that guards had to tie her to a small wooden chair before drawing the noose around her neck.
“Oh no, my boy,” Hitchcock interjected, his eyes glinting. “That’s not the way it was at all. She was hanged in a bosun’s chair.”
“What’s that, Mr. Hitchcock?” asked the journalist, though he had some idea. (The dictionary describes it as a wooden board slung by a rope, to be used by
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