In 1958 Shelagh Delaney sent her first play, A Taste of Honey, to theatre director Joan Littlewood – along with a covering letter that at one point describes her ‘enraptured frustration at the thought of what I’m going to do’. Despite its beguiling self-deprecation, she had already written for the Salford Players and had been advised to contact London’s Theatre Workshop. But it’s perfect as it stands.
Later, billboards would proclaim ‘Miss Shelagh Delaney has been an exhiliarating success’ (courtesy of The Times), and in March 1961 she arrived in New York (the following extract is from Selina Todd’s biography ‘Tastes of Honey’):
America was the dream her generation had grown up with, a young country untouched by war and defined by rock and roll, fast cars and film stars. Shelagh was heading to one of the most glamorous and atmospheric spots in the city – Broadway. Her friend Brendan Behan, arriving with his play The Hostage just a few months after A Taste of Honey’s New York debut, marvelled at the contrast with London. ‘Piccadilly at midnight is dark and deserted … Broadway is not lonely at any hour … it is a complete blaze of colour and you can get anything you want there twenty-four hours a day.’
…Shelagh was more surprised to receive a rapturous reception from the American press. A Taste of Honey was a hit. Richardson’s production was more romantic than Theatre Workshop’s. He told friends in New York that ‘Joan Littlewood ruined Shelagh Delaney’s beautiful play. It’s not a play. It’s a poem set to jazz.’
WHISTLES IN THE WIND 