Sidney immediately returned to
the stage and picked up the career
that saw him work continuously
until the demise of variety theatre
in the late 1930s. Card tricks were
his speciality – an act that relied
upon the dexterity of his hands
and fingers, and which he practised
daily for hours and hours. At the
height of his fame, he appeared
on stage at the London Coliseum
and the Palace Theatre (two of
the largest theatres in London).
He met my grandmother in the
theatre – she was playing piano for
the silent movies in her hometown
of Skegness – and they lived there
until the outbreak of WWII.
Ironically it was the rise of cinema
that eventually killed variety
theatre and forced Sidney to find
work away from its boards. He
established himself as an artist
and sign-writer – reputedly able
to write freehand in a completely
straight line – no doubt as a result
of the precision he had learnt in his
former trade. Sensing that his skills
could be used for the war effort,
Sidney reported back to the RAF,
which relocated him and his family
to Carterton, where he remained
working on the base until his
retirement in the late 1960s.
Carterton is home to one of the
last pieces of Sidney’s work – the
founders’ memorial plaque in the
Social Centre. Take a look one
day – it’s a beautiful piece of work.
But if you really want to see him in
his prime, google the words “Max
Waldorf magician” and you’ll find
a film of Sidney shot by British
Pathé in 1933. He looks fantastic –
so smart and dapper – and funny
when he talks to camera. As a
little girl I used to tell friends, “My
grandfather was a magician!” Only
recently did I discover just how
brilliant he actually was.
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