Ann on Tour - Maxim's, Paris

The best place on the Continent for a steak frites and expatriate conversation.  Charles and Ann spent many a soiree here entertaining les amis.

Musical Friends - Victor Herbert

Victor Herbert, the famous composer of American light opera.  He wrote "The Madcap Duchess" for Ann.

Ann on Tour - Pierre Hotel, New York

Understated.  Private.  The perfect Gotham getaway.  Ann's stays were yearly, seasonal, and legendary.

Ann on Tour - Claridge's Hotel, London

There is nothing in the world quite so so soothing as a soothing hotel, and this one is probably the most soothing of all.  No wonder it was Ann's favorite London haunt.

Somerset and Swinburne

Somerset Maugham, the famous author, was a confidiante of Ann and a frequent guest at Ann and Charlie Munroe's villa, Le Clos, in St. Jean Cap Ferrat, South of France.

"Mrs. Benkard Regrets"

Yet another of GrandMama's loyal retainers was an English butler named Meshes.  The way my father Rudolph pronounced it, he made a point of slurring the "sh" so that it became a slithery Russian "zh".  This proved to be an apt rendition, as our butling Brit was prone to tippling from the liquor cabinet.  In fact, the times when he was tipsy most likely outweighed his moments of sobriety, and thus, his slurry sobriquet.

Rudolph and Meshes shared a passion for current events, and spent many an hour huddled beside the radio as they breathlessly awaited news from the European front.  I like to think their sessions went something like this:

INT. - MANHATTAN, 1940 - RIVER HOUSE - SERVANTS PARLOR - EVENING

Meshes and Rudolph sit before the wireless, ears cocked for the nightly news broadcast. Meshes surreptitiously tops off his tea with a flask from his coat pocket.  The announcer's voice breaks through.

RADIO ANNOUNCER

This just in from the front.  German troops suffered massive losses as British bombadiers storm the Rhineland.  

MESHES

(in a British accent, betraying his Cockney roots)

Serves them right, bleedin' Jerries! 

 RUDOLPH

Think of it, Meshes! Wouldn't you give your eye teeth to be flying a B-52?

MESHES

(adjusting his dentures)

Can't say I wouldn't...that is...if I had me eye teeth...

RADIO ANNOUNCER

Hitler's forces followed up with a nighttime bombing run, swarming over the English Channel and pounding the Dover coast.

MESHES

Blasted Fuhrer! I'd like to give 'im what for! I'd beat the livin' daylights out of 'im I would.

Meshes removes his jacket and rolls up his sleeves and goes into boxing mode.

RUDOLPH

Fisticuffs? Brilliant You'd trounce him, I say! He wouldn't stand a chance!

MESHES

(now standing and hopping about the floor, throwing air punches)

Take that, ya little weinerschnitzel! Aha! Gotcha, didn't I? 

RUDOLPH

Meshes! Watch out for his left hook!

Meshes ducks, in reaction to his fake opponent's punch, then bounces back.

MESHES

Oh, you're the sneaky one, aren't you? Look lively now...comin' right back at 'ya...you sour old Kraut!

Just then the door swings open and GrandMama, dressed for dinner, stands, aghast at the jacketless, rumple-haired boxing butler.

GRANDMAMA

Meshes!  For god's sake! Remember yourself!  The British Ambassador will be here in twenty minutes!  Rudolph, stop distracting the servants.

MESHES 

(pulling himself together) 

Pardon me, Mrs. Benkard, but the boy meant no harm.

RUDOLPH

I'm sorry, Mama, it was my fault.  I asked Meshes to turn on the wireless.

GRANDMAMA

I see.

MESHES

Forgive me, Madame, I got a bit carried away.

GRANDMAMA

I can see that.

RUDOLPH

And then Meshes showed me his old boxing moves and well...Meshes just about had the Fuhrer, didn't you, Meshes!

Meshes and Rudolph stifle a conspiratorial chuckle.

MESHES

(under his breath)

We certainly did.

GRANDMAMA

The Fuhrer is nothing compared to the wrath you shall face if I don't see my canapes in place!

Rudolph, get dressed. 

Rudolph sheepishly exits, followed by GrandMama, slamming the door in a huff.

Meshes reaches for his flask and takes an unapologetic swig.

MESHES

(singing)

"Rule Britannia...

Rudolph pops his head in, joining in.

RUDOLPH

(singing)

Britania rule the waves....

They hum the rest of the tune as Rudolph hands Meshes a tray of pigs in a blanket, opening the pantry doors as Meshes, by now quite sloshed, ceremoniously marches forth.

Photo credit - Arthur Treacher 

Maid for Each Other

Mrs. Munroe had two Irish sisters, Catherine and Nora, in her permanent, if peripatetic employ. Upon first meeting them, I was informed that they were "personal" maids. As if being a maid is anything but personal. I was told they helped her dress, packed and unpacked her numerous suitcases, set out her jewellry and accesories for the evening, and tended to other details of Madame's toilette. Apparently Grandmother was unable - or far too busy - to attend to such matters herself.





They were "of an age", a fact which led me to believe that they had been a part of her household for many many years. They were often referred to in tandem, and for the longest time I failed to realize that "CatN'Nora" were actually two individuals. To me, they might as well have been twins, in their matching uniforms, caps and aprons. They labored swiftly, silently and industriously in the background, anticipating Ann's every whim. In short, they were the stage managers behind the longest running show on the East Side, and took a tremendous amount of pride in assuring only rave reviews. Once they had prepared the star for her entrance onto the evening's stage, they would stand behind her, admiringly, clucking to themselves with great satisfaction. Heaven help them if Mrs. Vanderpugh across the street stole any of Madame's thunder!





All day they would run to and fro, arranging, fixing, sewing, pressing, cleaning, hanging, folding. The two of them, talking to themselves, would crisscross the apartment hundreds of times, trying to get everything, "Just so." Their efforts would culminate in the elaborate ritual known as dressing for dinner, in which the lady of the household, Mrs. Munroe, would be clad and coiffed in a manner befitting a doyenne of society. This entailed a myriad of talents, which when combined, resulting in the perfect outfit to match the occasion. The effect - effortless, but the execution took hours of planning and preparation.





This particular evening, Anne would be attending a performance of "Der Rosenkavalier" at the Met, followed by a light apres-theater supper in a chic private club. Ann requested velvet, being that it was January, but it was Cat and Nora's unerring eye(s) that matched the burgundy velvet gown with black suede shoes and an ostrich feather cape. Ann stopped, stunned, as she sampled the outfit in front of the mirror. Seasonal, yet sensational. A slight smile crossed her lips, which she had painted in a deep shade of red. "Yes, there will be no other like it!". Cat and Nora sighed with relief. It had taken years to reach such levels of fashion anticipation.





When the final clasp was clipped, and the errant earring retrieved, CatN'Nora took the requisite two steps backward, signifying the end of their labors. Ann stared at her reflected perfection. "Lovely," she uttered, and with nary a glance in their direction, strode out of her chambers.





Upon reaching the entry hall, Ann would announce her departure to the household by chirping,


"Goodnight, Cat, goodnight Nora. And thank you.....(studied pause) Do have a look round the parlor and tidy up if you will. You know Marie can be forgetful."





They would nod in acknowledgement, and enjoy a chuckle. Cat jumps in, "Yes, of course, Madame. Young people today...all they think about going to the picture show." Nora retorts, "They've got no idea what it means to be in service!" They shake their heads, nodding in smug tandem pleasure. As the butler opens the front door, CatN'Nora catch a last glimpse at their heroine, looking every inch the leading lady. They smile to themselves in satisfaction, cooing with subdued delight. "Shall we tidy up then, Nora," Cat queried.





Their work is done for the day. The grand apartment, now hushed and dormant, feels oddly empty without Mrs. "M". Cat whisks a full ashtray from the edge of a table, "Just look at that. Why by tomorrow surely it would've fallen straight onto the Aubusson carpet." Cat gives the parlor a last glance, then places her hand underneath a heavy beaded shade. The last lamp's light disappears with a "click".





Nora smiles slyly at her sibling. "Well then, shall we have ourselves a nice cuppa and some of those shortbread cookies Uncle Seamus brought back from Ireland?"





"Indeed, Nora," Cat sighed, her posture, so straight throughout the day, relaxed into an exhausted "S". "Yes, indeed!"

LS 2009

Age Before Beauty - A Symphony of "S's"

Summer. 1965. New York or St. Jean Cap Ferrat, South of France.

Ann holds court with Marcel Erkart and Iris Flores Schirmer (daughter-in-law number two).

Legend has it that Somerset Maugham often sang for his supper chez Ann, being an old dear chum of hers. However, one evening, upon his entrance, he was met by Ann and Iris at the door. As the three of them proceeded into the parlor, Ann quite naturally took the lead, leaving a bewildered Iris in her wake.

Maugham was said to have looked kindly at the younger Mrs. "S" smile and quip, "Age before beauty, my dear."

Though both the latter and the former Mrs. "S's" treated each other with respect, no love was lost between the divas of stage and screen. Ann had never been accustomed to sharing the bill with anyone, even less so in her role of society matron. As far as she was concerned, she was the real Mrs. "S", and anyone who acquired the title afterwards was a mere pretender to the throne.

"Grand-Mama"

Excerpt from "American Social Leaders", INTERNATIONAL NOMADS, by Lanfranco Rasponi (G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1965)


The third great hostess in Nassau, Mrs. Charles Munroe, lives on Cable Beach, amidst a verdant oasis of green, in a pink villa which is not at all splashy but comfortable and snug. In the drawing room, over the fireplace, hangs a superb version of Monet's "Lillies in a Pond." Liable to stay here four months of the year, since she has no other permanent home, she roams the rest of the time. She is a true wayfarer, taking her immense zest for life wherever she goes and making all her friends the richer for it.

Three times a widow and the mother of two sons, Rudolph and Philip Benkard, she was born Ann Ditchburn in the state of Oregon. Gifted with a radiant voice, she studied singing in New York City and became, under the stae name of Ann Swinburne, such a first-rate musical comedy star that Victor Herbert wrote The Madcap Duchess for her. Her love for music has never faltered, and she renounced her skyrocketing career only to marry into the solid and well-estalished musical publishing family of the Schirmers. Today she is still an invaluable member of their Board of Directors. Her musical knowledge is geniune, and she is a fmiliar figure at the Spoleto, Bayreuth, and Salzburg (where she always rents a house) and attends the Festival every year. An intimate friend of many of the musical great, she undertakes long journeys to hear anything new in which they are involved. An enthusiastic supporter of Samuel Barber ad Gian Carlo Menotti from the very beginning of their careers, she has followed each step they have undertaken with something close to maternal pride.

She entertains often and easily, wherever she is. If it's Paris, it will be Maxim's; if London, Claridge's. Excellent at mixing people of all nationalities, she is enough of a linguist to cope with a professor of some German University or a French musicologist if it proves necessary. Restless in a gypsy-like manner, she moves incessantly with her small caravan, consisting of a maid and her English chauffeur, Sims, in a luxurious Mercedes, and rapidly puts up her tents, feeling at home everywhere. To be free to do what pleases her, upon the death of her husband she sold the huge Chateau at St. Jean on Cap Ferrat to Detroit's Ernest Kanzler.

In the thirty years I have known her, her spirit has not changed and her enthusiasm for everything she undertakes - the swim before breakfast in Nassau in the amethyst-tinted sea in front of her bedroom, the daily game of golf and cards, and the pause at the piano to go over a Mozart sonata ("It relaxes me so," I have heard her say often) - is part of the bubble of a charming human being unspoiled by riches or success. In Nassau she chooses her guests from all walks of life and they are apt to be Manhattan's dowager with the mostest, Mrs. William Woodward, Sr., Lorelai, Duchess of Westminster, Conductor Thomas Schippers, lawyer Henry Hyde, or theatrical producer Gilbert Miller and his Kitty.

Lost in Europe?

The Journal-Tribune - August 1914

Ann Swinburne, American Singer, and A Friend are Lost in Europe

(Miss Margaret Itten, Miss Swinburne)

Ann Swinburne, the American singer, sent this photograph of herself and Miss Itten, a friend who was travelling with her from St. Moritz, July 28, three days before Germany declared war on Russia. She was going on to Rome within a few days. Since then nothing has been heard of her. Her relatives and friends have appealed to Ambassador Gerard in Germany and other American representatives but up to last week had learned nothing.

Victor Herbert is anxious to have her here now to rehearse for the stellar roles in "Sweethearts", "Madame Modiste", and the "Madcap Duchess". She is to appear in each of those when the season opens.

Magnificent Production of "The Climax" 1909

Coshocton Daily Times - Ohio - 11.16.1909
THE THEATRICAL WORLD

"...Ann Swinburne gives a thoroughly artistic portrayal of the character of Adelina Von Hagen. The role calls for musical as well as dramatic ability and Miss Swinburne is quite equal to the double demand. Her voice is musical, flexible and beautifully cultivated and her dramatic instinct is unerring. She possesses the ability to do heavy emotional work without overdoing it; the expression of her eyes in the second act when she finds that her voice has left her is something marvelous. Moreover, Miss Swinburne is a beautiful woman."

Opera Star Who Sang to Soothe Her Dying Husband

As R. E. Schirmer, head of a New York music publishing house, was dying at Santa Barbara, California, he had his wife, known in the operatic world as Ann Swinburne, sing selections from Beethoven. His last request was that she sing for him.

- 1921

"Socially Speaking" - Cholly Knickerbocker 1949

"Handsome Mrs. J. Philip Benkard, who is just about as social as anyone can get, but who would rather talk about the days when, as Ann Swinburne, she was a belle of the light opera world, became a bride for the third time in Monte Carlo.

News that Ann is now Mrs. Charles Andrews Munroe will come as a surprise to her friends here, but if won't surprise anyone to learn that her two sons, Rudolph Schirmer and Philip Benkard, were on the spot when the knot was tied.

Ann has always been extremely devoted to the boys. There was a time when she closed up her Newport villa at the height of the social season and leased a shloss in the Austrian Tyrol near Saltzberg, just so Rudy could continue with his music studies.

Her first marriage to Rudolph Schirmer made Ann a happy young girl. She pitched in and took an active role in the music publishing business in which Schirmer was a partner and won renown as a beauty with brains.

When Schirmer died, Ann wrapped her life in her young son Rudy and it was some years later that socially-prominent banker, J. Philip Benkard, made her his wife.

Young Philip was born of this marriage and everyone knew that the former singing star of such Broadway hits as "The Madcap Duchess" and "The Count of Luxembourg" had once again made an ideal match.

Then tragedy struck. Benkard, a lieutenant colonel in World War I, was stricken with a heart attack as he took part in an Army day parade and it proved fatal.

As for Charlie Munroe, it's his second marriage. His wife, the former Rhea Logan, Chicago, died in 1933.

Ann Swinburne - Theatrical Resume

Light Opera

The Madcap Duchess - 1913 (Victor Herbert, composer)
The Count of Luxembourg - 1912 (Franz Lehar, composer)
Robin Hood - 1912
The Climax - 1910

Ann of a Thousand Names

Ann Ditchburn (birth name)
Ann Swinburne (Stage Name)
Ann Schirmer (Mrs. Rudolph E.)
Ann Benkard (Mrs. J. Philip)
Ann Munroe (Mrs. Charles A.)

Young Ann

Ann Munroe - Death

Ann Munroe died on November 21, 1973, at Doctor's Hospital in New York. She was the widow of financier Charles A. Munroe, of Nassau, Bahamas and Monte Carlo, Monaco.

New York Times

Ann Swinburne - NY Dramatic Mirror 1913

'Young Anne Swinburne[sic] overwhelms us with her modesty. She is reported to have instituted suit for an injunction and $10,000 damages against the George W. Dillingham Company for selling a novelized version of The Count of Luxembourg with her picture for a frontispiece. If this announcement is more than a press agent's inspiration, Miss Swinburne's representative will probably encounter difficulties hereafter in inducing dramatic editors to accept her pictures for publication. And it will serve her right.'Miss Swinburne is a charming young singer. She is by no means a dominating artist. Much of her popularity is due to her young and the grace which goes with her years. She is one of many nice, charming girls who bob up and down in the whirl of the theatrical millrace. Some have commanded as much attention as she, and then have been forgotten. Not one within the scope of our observation has been averse to seeing her picture published, pretty much regardless of when, where and how. Why an otherwise charming little songbird should suddenly develop symptoms of antipathy to a legitimate form of publicity is one of the things that stagger the editorial mind. Possibly Miss Swinburne has outgrown the need of propaganda.'(The New York Dramatic Mirror, New York, Wednesday, 22 October 1913, p.8a/b)

Ann Munroe - Eulogy (Part 3)

Ann Munroe Eulogy (Part 2)

Ann Munroe - Eulogy (Part 1) Rudolph Schirmer

To Grandma's House I Go...

Strangely, I was the only one of my family who never did get a chance to visit Grandmama in her Carbibbean cottage. By the time I was of travelling age, she had taken ill, and despite this sweet note, I was told she was not well enough to have guests. I can't help but think that if I had been able to get to know Ann in my later years, I would have quite enjoyed her. If she would have known of my early inclinations towards the stage, I think she might have thought the same of me, or at least instructed me on the fine art of theatrical delivery. When I reread this note after many years, her geniune affection struck me. I place it here as evidence of the relationship that we might have shared had I not missed that visit to Nassau.

Charlie and Ann's Bahamian Retreat

All the World's a Stage

Born in Portland, Oregon (nee Ann Ditchburn), the daughter of a Protestant minister, Ann honed her vocal skills in the church choir. Adopting the stage name of Swinburne (who she claimed was a distant relative), Ann lost no time in heading east, to New York, where she became the darling of the Light Opera stage, starring in "The Madcap Duchess" and the "Count of Luxemburg" on Broadway and in national tours.


Blessed with charm, looks and an enchanted voice, Ann's star rose swiftly, and she rode it as far as it would take her.

She harbored dreams of an operatic career, but her debut in that arena was met with less than stellar accolades. Sensing that her exit cue was upon her, Ann retired into a good marriage and a brilliant career on the social stage.


Ever the actress, Ann played both the dramas and the comedies in her life with wit and grace. She was applauded for her lifetime epic by all who had the fortune (or the misfortune) to witness the thrilling twists and turns of her journey. She played her roles of wife (Rudolph E. Schirmer, J. Philip Benkard and lastly, Charles Munroe) widow and mother (Rudolph Edward Schirmer and Philip Benkard) with great passion, if not for her fellow players, then for the exhilarating emotions such plots could provide.


Loathed by those who were arrogant enough to outshine her, Anne perfected the art of obtaining undying devotion by her husbands and her closest friends. Ironically, for a woman so well-versed in classical and modern methods of sentiment, it would be safe to say that the real love of her life did not lie in any of the persons related to her. Love, rather, was to be found in the mere act of playing the emotional script of her life, which, not unlike the dramas she enacted, contained three very distinct acts, each one beginning as a brilliant romantic coup and ending in widow's weeds.


Having forged her social career by blurring the borders between fiction and life, not even Ann was sure where the salon ended and the stage began. Thus, Ann's greatest work of art was herself, chiselled and sculpted into her dowager years by a disciplined path of work, ego and will. In her, the old guard had found a new and improved, albeit a good deal more theatrical version of itself (one would be hard-pressed to say that they weren't the better for it). In return, they cast this rising star in the longest-running show ever to play on or off Broadway.

To this, we can only shout, "Bravo!"

At The Close

When the curtain came down,

and the bouquet was tossed,

and her monologues read

(some were salvaged,

...most were lost)

The maestro kissed her memory

The fans did dab their tears

The stagehand spoke a eulogy,

"She was best in "The Young Balladeers."

Thus notices crumbled into yesterday's dust

And charity socials she considered a must

had all blown by the wayside

so long, Upper Crust!

Ashes were scattered from luxury yachts

A series of rituals, "shoulds" and "oughts"

The chauffeur in mourning all morning said he

Les dames de toilette, Helene and Marie

illumined their votives and prayed for her soul

Who could be found to step into her role?

Cook swore she heard a low voice after tea,

"Why weren't the canapes laid out for three?"

And Madame's blue ball gown, all satiny lace,

was felt in the corridor, brushing her face,

"Tis hard to abandon this earthly show

When it's all that you love and desire and know

And worse to imagine them filling your shoes

with amateur ingenues missing their cues

And what I would give for another third act,

oh for more kindness, more patience, more tact.

If only I'd known the rewards to be had,

If only I'd taken more time for the lad,

If only I'd written,

If only I'd read,

If only I'd gotten up early from bed,

I might have been Helen,

I might have been Queen,

If only you'd let me - just one little scene!"

Then quickly, she vanished,

And so did her Age,

Snatched from the earth,

barred from the stage.

Her heirs have no interest

in subtlety's style,

nor in wit, nor in wisdom,

nor womanly guile...

Thus Madame's performances

fade from our view

and only her scrapbook

tells what is true,

that once a fine actress

did play in our midst...

"Her daring and passion

will surely be missed."

LS 2009

Summer with Mummy

Rudolph, Ann and Philip in New York in the early 1930's

River House

One of Anne's New York addresses - 435 E. 52nd St.

Built in 1931 by Bottomley, Wagner and White, River House was said to be "...simply reeking with exclusivity and glamour" (1).

River House had it's own pool, gardens, tennis courts, dining facilities and yacht club. Until the 1940's, when the FDR Drive was built, tenants and members of the River Club would be seen mooring their yachts at the dock.

River House was an Art Deco masterpiece. Rising 30 stories above the water, its 73 apartments ranged from 37,000 to 275,000 - a princely sum at the time. An average aerie boasted 12 rooms, two fireplaces, six baths and a view of the East River.

In the beginning, River House was bordered by tenements, and this striking juxtaposition of haves and have-nots inspired Sidney Kingsley to pen his famous play, "Dead End". Starring the famous "Dead End Kids", real kids cast from New York boys' clubs, the play showed how criminals are born from economic devastation. "Dead End" became a film starring Humphrey Bogart and the "Dead End Kids".

Notable neighbors that might have sashayed past Ann in the lobby included the likes of Cornelius Vanderbilt Whitney.

"Living It Up: A Guide to the Named Apartment Houses in New York" by Tomas Norton and Jerry Patterson. McMillan Publishing Co. 1984