The long, long apprenticeship of Sir Nigel Hawthorne

Before Yes Minister made him famous in 1980, Nigel Hawthorne served a long apprenticeship in the acting profession. But I had not grasped till recently just how long that apprenticeship had been.

If you click on the arrow above, you will see him in a scene from Going Straight, the short-lived sitcom that followed Norman Stanley Fletcher after his release from the Slade Prison of Porridge.

That scene dates from 1978, but he had a bit part in an episode of Dad's Army as early as 1969. I recall a story that someone had gone to David Croft on Hawthorne's behalf, saying he was a very good actor who was getting many parts and asking if Croft could offer him something. Croft did, though as I recall Hawthorne doesn't really convince as a lorry driver.

But I've now know that Hawthorne's apprenticeship stretched right back to the start of the Fifties, and two of this blog's heroines helped me discover this.

Here's Sheila Hancock writing in The Two of Us: My Life with John Thaw:

I was thrilled to be so near London where someone might see me. I was playing quite a good role but whenever I was in danger of getting a laugh, Frank would intervene with, "No, don't laugh – poor soul – she went to the RADA, you know" (pronounced radar by Frank). "No perlease, perlease have some respect."

Nigel Hawthorne and I watched in awe as he jettisoned the script and went off into wild fantasies of his own It was one of Frank's frequent periods in the theatrical wilderness and no one important came near us, but supporting this anguished man gave us a friend for life.

With the help of the British Newspaper Archive I can tell you that this all took place in 1956.

Two years earlier, Hawthorne had been in the supporting cast when Freda Jackson returned to her alma mater, the Theatre Royal, Northampton, to play Marguerite Gautier in The Lady of the Camelias. He was in the repertory company there in 1954 and 1955.

He was acting with the company at the Pavilion Gardens, Buxton, as early as 1951. Hawthorne had first gone on the stage in South Africa in 1950, and was to alternate between Britain and South Africa for a few years without finding much in success in either.

And we have a part for a third heroine of the blog. Because, just as Sheila Hancock does, Hawthorne said he owed his career to Joan Littlewood.

Here's Markland Taylor reviewing Hawthorne's Straight Face, The Autobiography, which was published just after his death, in Variety:

Hawthorne’s luck changed magnificently when he downed six bottles of Guinness before auditioning for a role in a production of Littlewood’s hit

Oh! What a Lovely War planned for a tour of England and Europe, and was cast.

This led to his invaluable relationship with Littlewood and his career blossomed, leading to highly rewarding work on stage, screen and television.

This was in 1964, so Hawthorne still had 16 years to wait before be became famous overnight. This is a story about talent and persistence, but it may ultimately be one about having the right mentor.

Searching for Frankie Howerd in York

I've made it back from York. Our spring conferences always seem to involve too much travel and not enough conference, so I rarely attend them. But it was good to meet old friends and have a look round the city where I took my first degree many years ago.

One sight I made sure of seeing in York this time was the blue plaque on Frankie Howerd's early childhood home. The map suggested you could walk to it through a park that runs along the banks of the Ouse, but the park turned out to be flooded. I was forced to find a more inland route.

There's a reason that Hartoft Street, where I found the plaque, was built so it ended well short of the river and in steps taking you down to the park.

Festive Francis: Frankie Howerd in Up Pompeii!

It was a mark of my mother's liberal parenting that. aged 9 and 10, I was allowed to stay up late on a school night to watch Up Pompeii! I later found from a Twitter conversation with the novelist Jonathan Coe that he was granted the same dispensation.

In my case, at least, it worked. I passed O level Latin, despite receiving free school meals and having Allison Pearson in the same class.

Watching Up Pompeii! today, it stands up pretty well, notably the clever formal device whereby Howerd is constantly breaking the fourth wall to criticise the script or the audience, but none of the other characters ever does.

And the show was comforting in that it was the same every week. Poor Lurcio never got far with the prologue before Senna the Soothsayer came along, and then there was Nausius with his ode and inability to find a rhyme.

Throw in an element of plot involving high Roman politics or Lurcio's master Ludicrous Sextus's love live and you had your show.

There were a lot of nubile young women on show – a reminder that the permissive society came before feminism – but I think they were safe with Frankie. 

Note the contemporary jokes about Waggoners' Walk and decimalisation. And note Pat Coombs enjoying herself immensely as the sorceress – you never knew who would turn up in the cast.

A chance to see Frankie Howerd's Bottom

Put your titters away, because I'm talking about Shakespeare. In 1957 Frankie Howerd was invited to appear as Bottom in A Midsummer Night's Dream at the Old Vic.

And very good he was to, at least according to Francis Wyndham in The Queen (7 January 1958):

Some members of the audience may have feared that his gift for gagging might interfere with the sacred text; others, that his comic genius might be constrained within the limitations of a classic. 

On the first night he struck a happy medium, under-acting in the rehearsal and Titania scenes but bursting out with hilarious bravado when performing Pyramus before the Duke. This play scene can have seldom been made so funny.

You can see Howerd's Bottom ("Shut your face.") in the video above.

Far down the cast as First Fairy ("And that's an achievement when you're with this lot, I can tell you.") was a young Judi Dench. You can see and hear her below.