In a day of drama as outlandish as any plots from an operetta, Darlington Operatic Society bought and sold a derelict theatre within hours, losing a staggering £2,500 on the deal but saving a hippodrome.

In the years after the Second World War, the Darlington Hippodrome – which had been the home of the operatic society since 1924 – was run by a colourful impresario called Edward J Hinge whose company had 27 theatres and cinemas across the North East.

Stories about Teddy Hinge are legion. He turned up the heating 10 minutes before the interval so he would sell more ice creams. He was sued by the rights holders of the musical Annie Get Your Gun for putting on a saucy version called Did Fanny Get Your Fun? He turned down a knighthood because he didn’t want people to think of an ear infection when they addressed him as “Sir Hinge”…

Not all of them may be true.

Darlington Operatic Society prepare for Show Boat in 1957He allowed the operatic society to put on its two shows a year in the Hippodrome and their classy productions sat uneasily alongside his Soho strippers and risqué revues.

In 1954, he persuaded DOS to perform the annual panto, Cinderella, which he had written with costumes and scenery hired from his company. The show was a success, but really it was Hinge’s way of getting money into his company and of avoiding paying the wages of a proper panto dame.

He was on the brink of bankruptcy, and eventually teetered over the edge at Easter 1957, when he shut the doors of the Hippodrome for the last time, and he was pursued to the end of his life in 1961 by the Inland Revenue for outstanding dues.

The Hippodrome was became dark and derelict.

The Hippodrome in 1964Without a home, DOS were forced to perform their autumn 1957 production, No! No! Nanette, at Darlington High School for Girls (now Hummersknott).

Fred Thompson, and his wifeTheir stage manager and chairman, Fred Thompson, had been elected to Darlington council to represent Middleton St George, and he believed the council should buy the theatre.

Yet the council surveyor said the Hip was in such an appalling state it would be "a disgrace" to the town as a civic amenity. The council was also developing plans to cover the market place and town centre with fashionable concrete-and-glass boxes, one of which would become a modern theatre.

So it reluctantly agreed to put a farthing on the rates to raise £1,150-a-year for four years to allow the Hippodrome to keep running in the meantime – as long as the operatic society did all the work.

They shooed out the pigeons, cleaned down the walls, overhauled the heating system and got Marsh Dipalo, from the local Italian family of ice cream makers, to sell cigarettes and tubs during the interval. They even renamed the theatre as “the Civic” to acknowledge the council’s involvement, and on February 26, 1958, performed the first night of the musical White Horse Inn.

"As the Hippodrome curtain fell,” said the North Despatch, “the capacity audience erupted into spontaneous resound applause. They had witnessed two treats – a first class musical and the rebirth of a theatre."

A brilliant cartoon from the Despatch newspaper showing Fred Thompson pushing his new baby, the Civic Theatre, and the crowd applauding DOS's first production, White Horse Inn. Yet the baby in the pram, the ratepayer, is bawling its head off at the increase in the rates to pay for the theatreYet it was to be an extremely painful rebirth. The audience was often sparse, and the programme was often poor. There would be successful appearances by big names like Max Jaffa and the Halle Orchestra, but then there would be wrestling shows, including in 1961, a "terrific international bout" between Young Hackenschmidt of Hamburg and the Farmer of Dewsbury.

As the Society's four-year lease ran out, and with plans for the redevelopment of the town centre still stuck on the drawing board, it tried to persuade the council to buy the shabby building outright for £8,000. It was not a popular suggestion.

"Many people support the councillors who think it would be wrong to spend £8,000 on something which might become a white elephant, " said the Darlington and Stockton Times.

The council discussed the proposal in July 1961. Live theatre was in decline around the country and, as one councillor said, everybody just wanted to go to bingo.

Cllr Thompson exploded. He called the anti-theatre brigade's arguments "balderdash". He predicted a £100,000 modern theatre would never be built. "If we miss the finest bargain the town has ever had offered, we will all live to regret it, " he said.

The Shepherd Scheme was going to cover Darlington town centre with concrete-and-glass boxes that were fashionable in the 1960s. One of the boxes was to be a civic theatre. The only box that was built was the town hallThe council turned down the finest bargain. By 16 votes to 15, it ordered its officers to concentrate on what was known as “the Shepherd Scheme” which would cover the market place area with a new town hall, market hall, a multistorey car park, shopping mall, office block plus an art gallery and the new theatre.

So now the operatic society was caught in the middle between the theatre owners, who wanted £8,000 which they believed a developer with a bulldozer would pay for the semi-derelict theatre, and the council, which didn't want an Edwardian shell when it was planning a 1960s masterpiece, and so would go no higher than a reluctant £5,500.

Cllr Thompson was decisive.

On November 4, 1961, he blew every penny in the Operatic Society's bank account by buying the ramshackle theatre for £8,000.

Later that same afternoon, the Society sold it to the council for £5,500.

So within a few hours, DOS had lost £2,500 – £50,000 in today’s prices – which was all its reserves.

Never can a voluntary organisation have voluntarily lost so much money in one day, or can a council have saved a historic theatre so cheaply.

Mr TW Jones, chairman of DOS, presents Lady Starmer with a long service medal in 1964 - she was president of the society from 1945 until her death in 1979. Watching are, from left to right, Joy Beadell, Marjorie, Countess of Brecknock, FC Murray, JH Willans, G Todd, and L FarrageYet the council really didn't want this Civic Theatre, and throughout the Sixties, it begrudgingly carried out minimal repairs.

And DOS’s first show in the newly-bought theatre, Carousel, was panned. “When the curtain finally fell, it gave a sense of relief rather than fulfilment,” said the Despatch.

Still, as the 1960s wore on, with society members doing much of the repair work, DOS re-established its reputation as one of the finest amateur companies in the country, and in the 1970s, when the Shepherd Scheme collapsed amid court cases, inquiries and council elections, investment did begin in the Civic and by the 1980s, it turned out that Fred Thompson and his cast of operatics had saved the most successful provincial theatre in the country.

Musical director Frank Murray, left, prepares the cast of La Belle Helene in November 1964