No doubt there are one or two concert parties still pounding the boards, but generally speaking it seems another bit of the past which has disappeared. Here, Mrs FREDA ROTHWELL, of Arnold Street, Halliwell, Bolton, tells her memories of The Northern Celebrities, a concert party run by her mother, and how the famous singer Isobel Baillie gave her a 2s 6d gift . . . WHILE listening to the soprano, Lesley Garrett singing The Maidens of Cadiz recently on her television series, it awakened memories of another soprano, who, more than half a century before, sang that very same song in a Spanish scena, wearing a mantilla.

She was a local lady, who lived and worked in Halliwell, and her name was Bessie Ratcliffe. She possessed a lovely voice, and I'm almost certain she was a chorister at St George's C of E Church where she was a member.

I first met Bessie when she joined my mother's concert party The Northern Celebrities. My mum sang contralto, using her maiden name -- Irene Ellis (married name, Worsley). How she formed the concert party, I don't know, but the show gave pleasure to many people throughout Lancashire during and after the war, until the early 1950s.

From all walks of life, the troupe regularly rehearsed in our sitting room, on Bradford Street. It was interesting being a 'fly on the wall' in there, watching all the different turns.

I recall two tenors, Harry Pye and Albert Riding, the baritone Jim Kay, and three comedians, Stan Hawkesworth (a former Bolton councillor), Pat Boyle and Jack Holden. Nell Smith, a very pretty lady, was our fine pianist.

There was Bessie and mum, of course, and worthy of a mention is the all-round entertainer, Tony Wilson, who, with his brother, Terry, had toured the music halls professionally. Tony, an articulate man, was very 1930s in style, and it amused me when he used the expression ''Oh, jiddy heck!" a lot in his conversation. Last, and probably least, came myself-- the little dancer.

The Northern Celebrities proved to be popular, and were therefore well-booked for performances, usually on Saturday evenings, in church and Co-operative Halls.

We travelled by taxi to the appointed venue, complete with various props. On entering a hall, we were sometimes met with the homely smell of potato pie for refreshments -- much to my delight, I might add, as a constantly-hungry schoolgirl! It was a great incentive to dance well, knowing that pie was forthcoming (made with corned beef), served with mushy peas and a chunk of crust.

T

he show could last for two hours or so; it was colourful and spectacular. Mum had good ideas on stage-wear, and made or improvised many of the costumes we wore. She bought a lot of the trimmings we used from Brown's Trimming Shop on Market Street.

As well as solos, duets and quartets, the artistes put on scenes representing different countries, in costume, song and, yes, dance! In the Irish scene, my turn to dance a little jig followed a chorus of When Irish Eyes Are Smiling. On this particular occasion, however, I froze with sheer stage-fright, then I actually fled off the platform and into the wings! I was painfully embarrassed.

Fortunately, this only happened once, and the pianist quickly covered for me by playing my dance-tune right through. I never hear When Irish Eyes etc, without feeling prompted to dance a jig at the end of it!

The next act would be the comedian, who, before his patter, would begin by singing Powder your face with sunshine, put on a great big smile! Or he would go on to the stage wearing a schoolboy's cap and knee-socks, and joke about Bolton Wanderers: "Shoot, team, come on shoot!" he'd yell. Then, in mock desperation: "Oh shoot all't' lot of 'em!" I think his act was the hardest of all, to keep an audience laughing.

The tenor might sing Take a pair of sparkling eyes, for example, and the baritone On the Road to Mandalay. A typical duet for both voices could be The Bold Gendarmes. Bessie would sing One Fine Day, and mum Softly Awakes My Heart. Nell would play The Rustle of Spring, and I would intercede now and again to strut my stuff. This kind of music can be heard today on Radio 2's Your 100 Best Tunes, introduced by Alan Keith on Sunday nights.

Sacred songs were also favourites with most audiences in those days. The Holy City inspired much applause, as did Ave Maria, and the spiritual Ol' Man River.

The show's Finale (nearer to that potato pie!), always included most aptly There'll Always Be An England, while I marched across the stage in a military outfit; Keep The Home Fires Burning, and, to conclude, Land of Hope and Glory, then God Save the King. This patriotic music brought the house down. It must have been a terrific moral booster in those final stages of the war.

Maybe I didn't appreciate it then, but all the singers were so accomplished, they could sing anything from the simplest ballad to The Messiah. A former chorister herself, my mum began singing as a girl at St Paul's, Peel, Little Hulton, and it went on from there. She was honoured to be invited to sing contralto in The Messiah with Isobel Baillie, the soprano, at a Methodist church somewhere in Bury, in about 1946.

I

remember being taken along and introduced to Miss Baillie. She was lovely and elegant, beautifully coiffed, and wore a fur coat. Lovelier still, when this good lady bent forward to greet me, she slipped half-a-crown into my hand, which was a small fortune then. I was absolutely overcome; food and money went a long way with this nine-year-old! It would be interesting to know if anyone attended this occasion of The Messiah, or if there are any memories of the concert party.

My brief show business experience all those years ago, I remember with affection. While not exactly a Shirley Temple, I took after my dad, no doubt, who regarded the whole thing with quiet admiration from the background. I did absorb something of the atmosphere, nevertheless, and memories of the behind-the-scenes build-up before a show goes on still remain to this day.

Let this be a tribute to those talented people, and other local performers, perhaps long gone, who shed a little light and laughter into people's lives in those grim years of the 1940s.

It is 30 years this December since mum died. I'm sure she would have been delighted to know that her singing is still remembered in the year 2000.