I write in humility of Rochdale, and of Gracie Fields, the great comedienne. Something has been happening in this mill-haunted town this week which could not happen in any other place in the world.

Once – and not so very long ago – Gracie Fields wore real clogs and a real shawl, and worked in a mill in Rochdale.

So she left Rochdale and became well known. Then famous. Then world famous. Her income grew larger and larger…

And, six days ago, she came home to Rochdale to stay for a week in order to raise money for the local unemployed by singing for nothing at the Rochdale Theatre Royal.

HER PEOPLE'S HOMAGE

Now I, who have been watching these happenings here this week, tell you that no queen in her own country ever received greater homage or was more ecstatically cheered and adored by her people.

But it was not in civic welcome, visits to institutions, receptions etc., that made her Queen of Rochdale. It was the breathless joy of everybody in her presence.

Did she walk in the park – then a hundred and fifty mothers walked proudly after her. Did she call in a shop – then a crowd quickly collected outside. Did she wave a hand – then scores of hands and hats and handkerchiefs waved back. Yes, every day this week. […]