No Time To Marry; Sleeps 6 Hours

Miss Elsie Carlisle, ace woman crooner, has no time for introspection, no time to marry, no time to sleep more than six hours a night, no time, even, to weed out her cupboards which burst with clothes she does not like.

“I give money to acquaintances who want to borrow,” she says, “Then they don’t come back. I have no time to see them again.”

That is why she “made” that song, “Little Man, You’ve Had a Busy Day.” She understands, writes Corinne Irwin, in the London “Daily Express.”

Elsie Carlisle has that “something” in her voice and personality which reaches across the footlights to people of all ages and kinds. She cannot tell you what it is. It was born in her, and has increased with the experience of years.


As a tousled, golden-headed child of 12 she faced her first audience in a Manchester theatre.

“I was an instant success,” she told me. “I knew then they were mine; I was theirs. I belong to the public until they tire of me.  When they do I shall know it at once.  I shall quit.”

Most women’s resources could not stand this constant usurpation by the public of their private lives. Elsie Carlisle has risen from a sick bed with a temperature of 104 degrees to sing to her faithful public.

She is the complete trouper in its finest traditional meaning. Her background is the theatre; her home is its dressing room.

“I record at ten; rehearse for a show in the afternoon; give my act at the first house here; rush to the B.B.C. for a twenty-minute broadcast; rush back for my numbers in the second house; go home, take off my stage make-up, change into an ordinary evening gown, and sing at a party which does not begin until after midnight,” she said.

“I am so exhausted sometimes I scarcely know what to do with myself. I have to buy my clothes as I pass a shop; just when I see something I fancy in the window. Half the time when I get the dress home I do not like it. I buy some material, then I have no time for fittings.”

Luminous brown eyes gleamed with amusement.

“I am always losing hats. It is a habit of mine to take my hat off when I am talking to people. But I never pick them up again. Elsie Carlisle’s hats are strewn all over England.”


She added vehemently, “Anybody who thinks that the more money you have, the more fun, is mistaken. Not so long ago I sang for the joy of it. Now I have to make it a business.”

“I have three secretaries, two pianists, a chauffeur, a stage manager, a business manager, six times as many frocks as I had before, and two dozen stage costumes. All these have to be paid for.

Since I cannot afford the luxury of relaxation, I at least demand luxury in my surroundings. I like a comfortable bed, a shower that works, as well as a comfortable bath.  I want to eat what and where I like.”

[From the Barrier Miner (New South Wales, Australia), Thursday, 31 October, 1935.]


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"The Idol of the Radio." British dance band singer of the 1920s, 1930s, and 1940s.