From the ATV Television Show Book for 1963

The man who sets out to prove that they would work, despite all the obstructions of officialdom and the scoffers – is Sergeant Cork, detective.

The stories of Sergeant Cork have as their aim the accurate capturing of the flavour and atmosphere of the time. This was a period of tremendous change in British history. There were great extremes of wealth and poverty. London was a home for political exiles from all over the world, a hotbed of argument and debate.

Much of the action of the cases which Cork investigates show him in his office, set high in the attic of a Whitehall building; in his lodgings; in the public bar of a pub.

What of Cork himself? He is a man of about 42, a sergeant in the newly formed CID. He is unmarried, and lives in comfortable lodgings in the Bayswater Road district of London. He comes from lower middle-class parents, so that he is familiar with both sides of Victorian society. He started as a probationer P.C. on the beat, and joined the original Detective Department. His sympathy is with the underdog, but he does not tolerate fools gladly whether they are above or below him in rank, and his outspokenness has probably cost him promotion.

He is a well-known figure in London — and even elsewhere — mainly because the Press of the period gave considerable publicity to detectives. But beyond this he has a host of friends and acquaintances, as well as contacts in the meanest pub in Limehouse and in the houses of the great.

He is a passionate believer in scientific aids and wages a one-man war with H.Q. to achieve proper status and facilities for the CID. He is neat and clean, but often careless of his appearance as he gets worked up over a case. He is not worried about personal comfort or food and will spend the night on a chair in his office if pressed by work, and he will be as happy with an apple, bread and cheese, and pickles as with an elaborate meal. He doesn’t like violence or cruelty, but is able to defend himself and restrain a violent customer if necessary.

He has no close girl-friend, but there is a rumour that the girl he was engaged to, years before, died of injuries received when she was knocked down by a coach belonging to a merchant. The merchant was absolved, and the story goes that it was his wealth that enabled him to get off.

Who works with Cork? Well, there is Bob Marriott. He is about 25, a public school and university product who got into the CID through “back-stairs” influence. Bob went to these lengths because, as a young man, he developed a great interest in detection, much to the despair of his family, who regarded the police with complete disgust. He is tough and mentally alert. Inexperience and over-enthusiasm lead him into mistakes, and Cork often has to take him to task. But he is a pleasant chap and his enthusiasm and willingness to work encourages Cork to be patient with him.

To Bob, Cork is someone from a different world. His knowledge and experience of all sides of life fascinate him. He has no regular girl-friend — but a whole assortment of girls. He likes a pretty face and won’t miss an opportunity to improve an acquaintance if it occurs. Women find him attractive.

Like his chief, he is interested in scientific aids to detection.

Detective Joseph Bird is a different kettle of fish. A man of about 50, he is mainly interested in administration. He represents every thing that Cork dislikes: he is servile to superiors, bureaucratic and narrow in outlook. He is a family man, strongly religious, and a strict disciplinarian.

Cork and Bird are constantly at loggerheads, mostly over Cork’s attitude and activities. The sergeant is polite and respectful on the surface, but his manner conceals his contempt of Bird — and Bird knows this.

To his friends, Superintendent Billy Nelson is known as a handsome man, who is always stylishly dressed. A former Army officer, now in his 50’s, he retains something of the military bearing. Though there is a certain impish humour in his eyes, he is a man who can be tough, although he is fair.

Nelson admires and respects Cork, even though he doesn’t always understand what he is up to; but even then he is prepared to back him to the hilt, and he is the one who defends and protects him from outside attacks — and from Inspector Bird — though Cork does not always make it easy for him to do so.

Outside his work, who has an influence on Cork? Mrs. Fielding, his landlady, might be said to exert some influence — but not much. She is a neat, attractive, well-shaped woman in her 30’s, with a husband who is a clerk. Cork’s rent is valuable in supplementing the family income. He has the first-floor front room, which is cosy but not sumptuous. The house — in a terrace of lower-middle-class houses — is not as distinguished as, say, Sherlock Holmes’ rooms in Baker Street. This is a more humble background for Cork, whose salary is around the not princely figure of £200 a year.

Mrs. Fielding’s two children are constantly being hushed to silence when Cork is in the house, but without any great need, really, for they hold the famous detective in something like awe.

To play the role of Sergeant Cork, actor John Barrie was wooed from the grocery business which he runs in his native Yorkshire. With his curly bowler set jauntily, though not foppishly, his stout cane at the ready and his sidewhiskers bristling, he looks and plays the part to perfection. For when he strides the streets of old London, artificial though the cobblestones may be beneath his feet, he has transported himself back seventy-odd years… to the days when at least one policeman with ideas which many said were before their time proved that with determination and imagination the side of the law’ on which it was best to be was undoubtedly the right side.

Such a man is Sergeant Cork — detective.

The post Sergeant Cork appeared first on THIS IS ATV NETWORK from Transdiffusion.

From the ATV Television Show Book for 1963

As this small band became integrated with all branches of crime in the capital city, and as its members rubbed shoulders with the criminals of all types who frequented their new “beat”, so valuable information was picked up and passed on to Scotland Yard. Such information often meant that a planned crime could be nipped in the bud. On other occasions it meant that the movements of a wanted man were known to the authorities and the means of capturing him could then be executed with the minimum of risk to success.

Jack Capstick and John Gosling, now retired senior police officers, were both members of the first exclusive band who were prepared to remove themselves from all the protection that the law could give so that they could help their colleagues on the outside perform more easily their job of keeping the law.

It was to Gosling’s book on “The Ghost Squad” that ATV turned when a series of programmes depicting the work of such men was first considered.

But where Capstick, Gosling and the rest of the early “Squad” operators lived and worked, in an area which seldom stretched beyond fifty square miles of London — and there were even weeks on end, in fact, when their activities confined them to the square mile of Soho itself — the brief given to the authors of ATV’s “Ghost Squad” stories enabled them to range the world, for their settings, to tell their stories through the fortunes and misfortunes, hopes and shattered dreams of people from almost any corner of the globe.

If the television “Ghost Squad” was to be international, then its operators were not to be confined merely to London policemen who were prepared to change their uniform — official or otherwise — for any disguise befitting the case on which they were working.

So the idea of “Ghost Squad” operator Nick Craig was created. The character called for an American actor, tall and rangey, distinctive in voice, with the ability to melt into the background, yet with a personality and presence which allowed him to leave his imprint on any assignment undertaken.

Such an actor was found in the person of 6ft.-4in. Michael Quinn, who came to Britain almost unknown to play the role of Craig. But he was to do such a good job that more than one major film organisation was to make very serious attempts to woo him back to Hollywood during the eighteen months he spent working at ATV’s Elstree Studio Centre.

Quinn is a good example of the new-type American actor who is now looking beyond his own shores for work, as well as looking for an opportunity to find out what is new and challenging in other film and TV capitals throughout the world. Producer Antony Kearey cast Neil Hallett in the part of Tony Miller, the other main “Ghost Squad” operator, seizing an opportunity to bring a new face to a regular TV role.

Where Quinn, at a glance, can be said to be undeniably American, Hallett has all the attributes which are characteristic and distinctive in an accomplished English actor with the sound experience and training of an apprenticeship served in English repertory theatres.

He has a good speaking voice, is agile in movement, dresses well, and he can throw off a humorous line of dialogue in comedy banter as easily as one-word questions.

Behind the activities of both men lies the guiding hand of Geoffrey Stock, the Chief of the “Ghost Squad”. An irascible character, Stock sweats it out in lonely silence when one of his operators is on a dangerous mission. The tensions he suffers are not helped by the “pressures” to which he is exposed from the “faceless” ministers to whom he must report, or by a constant nagging stomach complaint for which no amount of powders and glasses of water, kept readily at hand by his harassed secretary, Jean Carter, can bring relief.

At times his operators think of him as being unreasonable, bad-tempered, inconsiderate — occasionally all three at once—but they would not deny that he possesses the ability for his taxing job.

There are occasions when Geoffrey Stock puts his big desk in his secret headquarters, his multitude of phones and the large-scale map hidden in a panel of the wall of his office behind him. When he thinks he must handle a case personally his mastery of disguise, his ability to assess people and his eye for fine detail come into their own — and his missions successfully accomplished leave his younger associates very much in awe.

Genial Anthony Marlowe gives the appearance of being ready made for the tweed suits, bow ties and countryman’s soft hat with its raffish swept-up side which would seem to be Stock’s favourite choice in dress. If such clothes are characteristic of the man, so also is his pair of horn-rimmed spectacles — especially when they slip to the end of his nose, for this is invariably a sign of trouble for someone. And if Craig or Miller are not on the receiving end of it, then woe betide the one “the Chief” has it in for.

Cases which the “Ghost Squad” are asked to handle have sent Craig and Miller — and occasionally Geoffrey Stock himself (as well as “Porridge”, the Chief’s Scots-born secretary) — travelling to most of the capital cities of Europe. It has also meant their operating in torrid Middle East oil centres, getting caught up with white-slave traffickers, drug-pedlars, counter-agents who cunningly used Army paratroop manoeuvres as their means of passing information, and criminals of all races and descriptions who are prepared to play for the smallest as well as the highest possible stakes.

Danger is the “Ghost Squad” man’s constant companion whenever he is on the job. He has no recourse to the recognised means of help if he finds himself in difficulties, for he must play a lone hand.

The real-life “Ghost Squad” called for men of initiative and imagination and “guts”. The television series requires artistes who can bring to each new story in which they appear acting technique of a high order, understanding and a sense of adventure.

Messrs Quinn, Hallett and Marlowe — not forgetting Claire Nielson, who played Stock’s secretary — have proved that they are well able to measure up to all these requirements.

The post Ghost Squad appeared first on THIS IS ATV NETWORK from Transdiffusion.

from the ATV Television Show Book 1963

If the critics didn’t welcome the change with unreserved rapture and if some faithful fans grumbled unnecessarily at the passing of a hero, there is no denying that it took courage and a sense of adventure for Tony Hancock to try something new, to experiment, in the series which he made for ATV this spring.

Tony went back to his early, radio days for the all-important material on which he was to build the new, highly civilised, middle-class Hancock — with its capital “H”. Godfrey Harrison had written the scripts on which the Hancock reputation was firmly founded. So, as Tony looked around for a new image, what better than to go right back to the source of his first inspiration and once again team up with the man who had committed the right words and lines to paper, knowing that the Hancock talent for putting them across would ensure the true marriage of thought and presentation.

No more the faded city gent’s outfit. Put away were the rollneck sweater, tight-fitting trousers and the medal on a thin artificial-gold chain. Bring out, instead, the badges of respectability: the sheepskin jacket, the Robin Hood style hat. Thus attired, Tony Hancock ventured into his new series. And with a new series came a new setting for the inquisitive, audacious Hancock.

Focal point of all his adventures was the doorway of the local bank, a humdrum, unexciting place in itself; but with Hancock around anything could happen — and it usually did.

It was from here, for instance, that “The Lad” became ensnared in a drama which had him rubbing shoulders with the anonymous Big Brass of M.I.5, who, glad of any excuse to see this inveterate nosey-parker out of their way, invented codes, passwords, identification signs and secret messages which had Tony completely confused as he found himself caught up with a Government department kitchen staff, a queue waiting for a bus and the inevitable “overseas agent”.

No amount of red herrings or contrived clues could put Hancock off once the smell of middle-class responsibility was wafting around his nostrils. He just had to succeed; see through to the bitter end the task which he felt he must carry out — invariably ending in disaster and humiliation. For such is the character of Hancock on the screen, and no matter the elevation in his social standing he is still doomed to failure and ridicule — and to our sympathy in the process.

Who, for instance, can forget his attempts to bring to a “This is Your Life”-style story his own individualistic contribution? Hancock had to make his entry to the programme in the grand style — and even if he had nothing really worthwhile to say he was not to be denied the opportunity to make an impression. This he did — to the embarrassment of the subject of the programme and to ATV question-master Shaw Taylor, who played the compere in the programme.

Hancock, the civic-minded citizen, bungled the job of helping the police when the local bank — yes, that very same one where he seemed to spend so much time annoying and lording it over the bearded newspaper vendor who had made his pitch the entrance to the bank — was robbed. Ever hogging the limelight, ever bigger than life, once again Hancock was in trouble, this time with the police, as well as the robber who had done the job.

Big-headed, pompous, naive… Hancock has been called them all. And he earned such descriptions when he got himself involved in helping a casual friend impress his wife with his ability as a “do-it-vourself” exponent; when he took on the job of a professional “escort” to visiting women who wanted a night on the town; when he fell for the smooth talk of an experimental film producer who saw in our Tony the answer to his dreams of a new face for his new-wave movie — with Tony definitely on the receiving end of anything but bouquets from the film critics. His reward was face-slapping, insults from a conscientious house-owner and torment at the hands of a young starlet and a very experienced film actress.

Hancock aping his betters is always an intriguing sight. With the inevitable props of dressing-gown, cigarette-holder and silk kerchief, here was vintage Hancock as he assumed the role of author and comedy script writer. But always the results were the same: disaster, disappointment and a sense of disenchantment.

But only for the moment. For such is the stuff of which Hancock is made that in his mirroring of life he is like a rubber ball: down one moment, up the next, always ready for the next adventure, ever prepared to stick his nose in business which is not his own — invariably with disastrous results. And for those very same reasons he has become a character, a special friend and accomplice — even a national institution.

But behind the facade of buffoon and busybody lies the professional approach of the perfectionist. Too much rehearsal, too much interpretation of the slightest act or situation, is no problem to Tony Hancock. Alan Tarrant, who produced Tony in his programmes for ATV, tells of many hours spent after the official time for rehearsal had ended while Hancock dissected some minute aspect of the plot or action. Time, which saw the night before pass into the early hours of the next morning, went by unnoticed — and rehearsal hour was drawing nearer and nearer. Overflowing ashtrays told of hours of concentration spent in deciding how a particular scene should be played, how a look or word should be used to provide the best effect… and when rehearsal was called, seemingly only minutes later in a rehearsal room at ATV’s Elstree Studio Centre, who was the freshest, most enthusiastic member of the cast on call? Why, Hancock, of course.

“The man thrives on hard work”, says Tarrant. He also confirms the belief held widely in show-business circles that Tony Hancock insists on having “professionals” around him — to work with him and with whom he can work. Hancock saw such an assembly of “pro’s”, for in the programmes which came to ITV screens regularly at 8.30 each Thursday evening for three months such established artistes as Dennis Price, John le Mesurier, Maggie Fitzgibbon, Harry Towb, Edwin Richfield, Diane Clair, Hazel Hughes, Brian Wilde, Thomas Heathcote, Edward
Chapman, Wilfrid Lawson, Judith Stott, Denholm Elliott, Peter Vaughan, Kenneth Griffith, Mario Fabrizi, were on hand to lend their professionalism and know-how to the situations and predicaments in which Tony found himself.

But always the impact was that left by Hancock himself—and who would have it otherwise? For his is an impact of individuality, which reflects the “little man” in all the millions who watched his on-screen activities — unsuccessful and slapped-down though they may have been — and which attracted our affection and recognition: for here, surely, is a kindred spirit.

Hancock is unique.

The post Hancock appeared first on THIS IS ATV NETWORK from Transdiffusion.

Think of that tweed-suited, flat-capped individual who is forever getting his own way — deflating the pompous in the process — and the crafty “tramp”, full of wiles, who have become almost a fixture of Saturday evening viewing.

Many people ask: “How does Arthur manage to maintain such a consistent standard of comedy?” For this, Haynes thanks his brilliant scriptwriter, Johnny Speight. But much was to happen before Arthur struck up a friendship with Johnny.

There was a time when Arthur regarded television as a menace to show business. “All the theatres were closing”, he says, “and it was difficult to get work. In fact, for a while I even considered getting out of the business”.

Naturally, he thinks differently today. “I have every reason to be grateful to television”, he says. “Believe me, it is much more of a challenge than any other branch of show business.”

This change of heart has been brought about mainly by his own tremendous success in this medium. Yet, strangely enough, when his show started it was scheduled for only six weeks. It is now in its seventh year!

Today, many young entertainers think they have struggled if they remain unrecognised for two or three years; but artistes of around Arthur’s age-group know the real meaning of the struggle to success.

Arthur’s first experience of getting a laugh from an audience was when he fooled around in class while studying at the Chiswick Polytechnic Art School. He wanted to be an architect, but when he discovered that it costs more than £2,000 to train he dropped the idea. He decided he would like to go on the stage, but how could he achieve his ambition? He had no contacts inside show business.

For a while he took a number of jobs. He was everybody’s mate — plumber’s, carpenter’s and painter’s. Then he joined London Transport and became a bus conductor. It must have been quite an experience to travel on a bus with a wise-cracking conductor like Arthur. The story goes that passengers used to wait for Arthur’s bus simply because they wanted to enjoy his repartee on the journey.

In 1940 he was called up for the Army. Knowing his “cheeky” television characters as we do, one can imagine the exasperation the Army suffered at his hands. He was first put on a charge during a route-march. At the rear of the line, he found that marching with full-pack and fixed bayonet for mile after mile was too much for him. He slipped away unnoticed and thumbed a lift from a passing motorist. The first thing that happened — and this could quite easily have been a sketch from one of his television shows — was that his bayonet went through the roof of the car. This, naturally, did not endear him to the friendly motorist. But, being wartime, the patriotic driver did not order his clumsy passenger out of the car, but drove ahead of the marching troops and dropped Arthur at his camp. Unfortunately, Arthur’s commanding officer was standing at the main gate. He was not at all impressed by Pte. Haynes’ contribution to Britain’s motorised infantry, and immediately put him on a charge.

After further experiences of this kind, the Army tired of Arthur — or could it be the other way round? — and he was regraded, medically, for having flat feet. He auditioned for the famous “Stars in Battledress”, but was turned down. Later, a chance funny remark to the young son of Captain George Black, the famous impresario who was in charge of the “Stars in Battledress” unit, won him a reprieve.

It was the Army, with whom Arthur had so many tussles, which finally helped him to achieve his long awaited ambition — to go on the stage. For the remainder of the war he toured the war fronts, entertaining the troops.

After his demobilisation in 1946 he was with Charlie Chester in the long-running radio series “Stand Easy”. Then he went solo. He went into pantomime, then toured the country on one-night stands. “I went everywhere from Aberdeen to Plymouth”, he recalls. “All this was wonderful experience and I gradually began to build up a solo act.”

Then, in February, 1956, he was offered his first television spot — in a show called “Strike a New Note”. This was his first meeting with Johnny Speight. “As soon as I saw that first script I knew that it was ME. From the first, Johnny’s scripts suited me perfectly”, he says.

Within twelve weeks the show had been retitled “The Arthur Haynes Show” — and it has been running ever since. Those early shows not only introduced Arthur to Johnny Speight, but also to Nicholas Parsons. Arthur and Nick have now built up the perfect partnership, with Nick the ideal foil for Arthur’s humour.

“Arthur and I did not set out to become a team”, explains Nick. “It simply developed. And I think it’s because it grew that way that it has become such a success.” One thing Nick can be sure of — when working with Arthur Haynes there is never a dull moment. “I’ve been hung from a scaffolding, had my clothes ripped, been covered in mud, made to dive through a window, knocked out, tripped, covered in shaving soap and pushed”, Nick recalls. “You just name it and it’s happened to me: like the sketch in which my flat was supposed to have caught fire and Arthur dashed in dressed as a fireman. I was almost knocked off my feet by the force of the water from Arthur’s hose and soaked to the skin, into the bargain. The trouble was I wasn’t really expecting it. You see, at rehearsal we could not use real water, because this would have ruined the set, so we did not switch on the water until the actual show. So when we did the show everything was spontaneous — and how!”

Many top recording artistes have been guests in “The Arthur Haynes Show” in recent months.

They include: Kenny Ball’s Jazzmen, Patsy Ann Noble, Susan Maughan, Janie Marden, Dickie Valentine, the Springfields, the King Brothers and Alma Cogan. These are the artistes who provide the musical interludes between Arthur’s sketches.

One man who has become a regular member of the “team” in recent months is Joe “Mr. Piano” Henderson. The quiet manner and shy smile of Joe Henderson has become a popular feature of the show. Joe has had his share of hit-parade successes in the past, but he is not at all worried if one of his discs fails to enter the charts.

“It would worry me to be thought of as a hit parade artiste”, he says. “The moment you fail to click people think you are finished. I’m interested in a lasting career. I like to play tunes that people like, aiming somewhere between what the mums and dads go for and what the kids want.”

With the aid of Nicholas Parsons, Joe Henderson, his guest vocalists and the guest actors he frequently uses, Arthur Haynes has built his show into one of the most consistently successful series on television. And, of course, Johnny Speight must share the credit here.

Without a doubt, it is Arthur’s down-to-earth brand of humour and his ability to find the common link in all of us that has made “The Arthur Haynes Show” one of the highlights of Saturday evening viewing.

The post Arthur Haynes appeared first on THIS IS ATV NETWORK from Transdiffusion.

So when Morecambe and Wise breezed into ATV’s headquarters to talk about themselves we wondered what was coming next. We soon found out.

The tall, bespectacled Eric Morecambe set things going when he suddenly stopped, clapped an outstretched hand under his partner’s chin and said: ‘get out of that,’ the phrase that has become so popular through their ATV programmes.

After that it was laughter all the way. The wisecracks flowed thick and fast. Finally, with patience, the comics were persuaded to be serious, at least long enough to tell their story—how they met, parted, met up again and finally achieved success.

‘We were travelling from Birmingham to Coventry during the blitz,’ said Ernie Wise, ‘when Eric’s mother, Mrs. Bartholomew, who was accompanying us to a show, suggested that we should try to become a double act. Eric and I had known each other for a few months, as we were both appearing in Bryan Michie’s show Youth Takes a Bow. The idea appealed to us and we decided to give it a try.’

The youngsters did team up and this was the beginning of an act which has now established itself with a string of successful television shows, summer revues, pantomimes and a weekly series for ATV.

‘We had not had time to establish ourselves as a double act before Ernie joined the Merchant Navy, cut in Eric Morecambe. ‘When he went away I teamed up with the brother of the late Dave Morris as a ‘feed’ and this is when I dropped my real name — Bartholomew — and took the name of my home town. We became Morris and Morecambe. This partnership did not last long, however. I was conscripted — into the coal mines — and disappeared from view for a while.’

Their reunion was a chance meeting. They were both booked as single acts in a Sanger’s Circus show in 1947. This led to Morecambe and Wise re-forming their double act.

‘I bumped into Eric,’ recalls Wise, ‘and we decided to try our luck again. Before the road show ended we had re-established our act. It was at this time that I met my wife, Doreen, who was a dancer in the show.’

‘We were only just making a living in those days,’ confided Morecambe. ‘If I remember rightly we earned £12 a week and had to divide that in half. After the tour we went into pantomime with Lupino Lane and from there to variety and revues.’

In 1952 Eric Morecambe met Joan, an ex-beauty queen, who was a dancer in a show which featured Morecambe and Wise in Edinburgh. In December of that year Eric and Joan, a London-born girl, were married.

‘It was in 1952 that we decided we ought to broadcast,’ said Wise. ‘We cornered a radio producer at the Tivoli Theatre, Hull, one evening and before we were through with him we had earned ourselves a spot in Workers’ Playtime. This led to many other broadcasts. After that things really began to move for us. Our money must have gone up a little by that time because in 1953 I could afford to marry Doreen’.

Before long Morecambe and Wise had their own radio series in the North of England called You’re Only Young Once, and this met with such success that they were asked to do three more series. Then came television. The comics did their first television show in 1953 and were then offered a series of their own. The series was called Running Wild and was seen in 1954.

‘It ran wild all right,’ said Morecambe ruefully. ‘Mind you, although we blushed every time we read the critics’ columns, many viewers wrote to say they liked the shows.’

‘But we took the whole thing far too seriously,’ confessed Wise. ‘After all, those were early days in television. But we are not making excuses. We did not like the shows ourselves. In fact, we completely restyled our approach after this series and when we finally decided it was safe to go out of doors again, we were pleasantly surprised at public reaction.’

‘No lynch mobs,’ cut in Morecambe.

Successful summer shows in Blackpool in 1955, ’56 and ’57 followed while in 1956 they returned to television in an ITV series of Winifred Atwell shows. They were much more successful this time and the following year did another series called Double Six.

‘In September, 1958, we decided to go to Australia,’ Wise continued. ‘We were there for six months and all the shows went well. When we returned to Britain in March 1959, we were determined to make an impact. After a summer season at Blackpool and pantomime in Liverpool, we began what we call our television campaign.’

In March 1960 the comics had only one television date in their diary, but they came over so well that, before the end of the year, they had made over a dozen appearances in major television shows including Sunday Night at the London Palladium, to which they returned several times.

‘Before the end of 1960 we were being asked to do a series,’ said Morecambe. ‘We did not want to rush things this time, remembering what happened in 1954, so we waited until we felt fairly sure of the scripts.’ Autumn 1961 saw them topping popularity polls with their own series of programmes for ATV — The Morecambe and Wise Show — which went out over the entire Independent Television network. Their second series for ATV earlier this summer was equally well received.

‘Together with script writers Syd Green and Dick Hills, we worked on the comedy ideas for this series,’ said Morecambe. ‘This seemed to be quite a successful formula and we found that the ad libs and asides we used were as well received by the audience as any straight from the shoulder jokes.’

With their appearance last year in the Royal Variety Performance, a year of triumph came to an end for Morecambe and Wise.

Despite many hard years of struggling to reach the top, Morecambe and Wise have retained that relaxed, easy-going cheerfulness that seems to be lacking in some comedians.

And when one is being entertained by the informal back-chat of Messrs. M. & W. you just don’t want to, ‘get out of that’.

The post Morecambe and Wise appeared first on THIS IS ATV NETWORK from Transdiffusion.

from the ATV Television Show Book for 1962

For over a year now, the ex-actor who has also invaded the sacred precincts of the world of the disc-jockey, has been glibly spouting the correct replies to the brain-teasing questions which form the main basis on which his popular programme relies for its attraction to the viewing public. Like the questions, the answers are supplied by a number of the staff of Encyclopaedia Britannica. But to hear them roll off the smooth tongue of the bespectacled quiz-master one would think that here, in fact, was the oracle… the fount of all knowledge!

Shaw Taylor is the first to admit that from his Tuesday evening programmes he has amassed a great store of information about which he was previously unaware. He is also honest in admitting that, without the written answers, he would — like so many of his viewers — be at a loss for the correct replies to the questions which he, and his attractive co-compere, Australian Lisa Finlayson, pose for those at home who are watching.

Sticking out a determined chin, nestling beneath a perpetual, good-natured grin, he has gone on record as saying that he doubts if there is anyone in Britain who, if he or she has watched every Pencil and Paper programme, could claim to have got every question right. ‘That is half the fun’, says the 37-year-old Shaw. ‘The other half is leaving the viewers with the hangover question. They get the answer the following week. But what happens during the week…?’

He visualises viewers phoning up their friends, checking on books of reference, or covering acres of paper with calculations when the problem is mathematical, or of the kind which psychologists love to indulge in.

From the manner and the accuracy in which they answer Shaw and Lisa’s questions viewers can gain some idea of their I.Q. — that modern means (the initials stand for ‘intelligence quotient’) through which, nowadays, so many jobs are filled, so many places in schools and colleges allocated.

An I.Q. of 125 is outstanding — and exceptional. Napoleon is credited with having had 125. So had Nelson. Shaw Taylor admits to 100 — ‘just above average’.

The mail which he — and the programme — attracts reflects a tremendous interest among the viewers to show that this way of assessing ‘what they’ve got upstairs’ is something which intrigues them and which, in its own way, must be regarded as something of a challenge.

There have been weeks when mailbags arriving at ATV’s London headquarters following a Pencil and Paper programme have contained letters and post cards amounting to almost a quarter of a million. Many of these are answers to the hang-over question. Others are from interested viewers who want to discuss some question — or answer — with Shaw. Not a few are from proud parents who want to tell of the success of a son or a daughter answering questions.

As with all letters received by television personalities, Shaw Taylor’s mail swings from the irate viewers — complaining that when the slightest thing goes wrong with a programme it is Shaw Taylor’s fault — to the pleasant letters of admiration. And, of course, there are the inevitable marriage proposals — an intriguing feature this, for all who become familiar to the country’s millions of television viewers, thanks to the feeling of proximity and intimacy which a television set in the living-room brings.

The letters of praise — even those suggesting marriage — might have been even more numerous had Shaw Taylor fully realised the ambition which attended his first decision to ‘go into show business’; he wanted to be a very successful actor, with a leaning to comedy roles.

In his reflective moments, enjoying the small cigars which he smokes through a large holder, he will tell of his love for the theatre, which goes back to a very early age.

He was born in the North London suburb of Hackney and every Monday evening after school he would go round to the local Hackney Empire, spend his pocket money on a seat in the ‘gods’ and eagerly wait for the curtain to go up on the weekly variety show.

But there was to be no easy way into the ‘profession’ for him. When he left school at the age of 15 he went into an office job. It was his wartime service with the R.A.F. which kindled the ‘show business’ ambition. He was serving in Burma as a radar operator. Live entertainment was scant, almost to the point of being non-existent. A group of airmen decided to band together to entertain the other servicemen stationed in that part of the world. Their efforts were fairly successful, and when they returned to Britain the group vowed that when they were demobbed they would meet again to start a repertory acting company. Then they went their various ways.

Back in London, Shaw Taylor found someone else in his office job. Remembering his Burma days, he applied for — and got — an L.C.C. grant to train at a dramatic school. He admits that one of his reasons for taking dramatic training was to lose his Cockney accent. He also recalls that when he went for his first audition for a stage part after leaving the school the first question put to him was: ‘Can you do a Cockney accent?’

Plays in London’s West End and with various repertory companies throughout Britain; film work — even working for an ice show (mostly on the Ivor Novello themes) followed as he ran the full gamut of show business experience. Though he is quick to explain that he didn’t do any skating. He dubbed the voices of the skaters as they ‘spoke’ Novello’s lines.

But hard though repertory acting and touring work may be, he is honest in admitting that his toughest job has been that of a television announcer. It was in this way that Shaw Taylor first became associated with ATV. For many months on end he was the ATV announcer seen most weekends by viewers in the London area.

Then came the opportunity to take over the chairman’s role in one of ATV’s best known quiz shows, Tell the Truth. Another quiz game, This Is Your Chance, was to follow and Shaw Taylor was again the chairman, as he had also been for some time in the programme Dotto. When Pencil and Paper first appeared it seemed quite natural that he should be the chairman. He appears to have found his niche.

But he has never allowed himself to become stereotyped, even in this rewarding kind of work. He has been heard as the commentator at some of the biggest outside broadcasts covered by ATV. This work has often taken him far afield — even to Russia, where he obtained what was probably the first ‘live’ interview with the Russian leader Mr. Khruschev, when he visited the British Trade Fair in Moscow on its opening day.

If the flames of ambition to be an actor have been dampened down slightly during the past few years, Shaw Taylor hasn’t turned his back entirely on his feelings for the stage. Now this takes the form of writing for it. He would dearly love to write a stage play. But this takes time and long, unbroken spells of concentration. In the busy life he leads today both of these are commodities in short supply. And in this very full life the weekly commuting which he undertakes between London and Birmingham, from where Pencil and Paper is broadcast, is only one of his regular commitments.

There is his radio disc show to compere. His books to be read (his taste is mostly for historical subjects). His cream-coloured sports coupe to be driven and kept trim. His sailing to be pursued with the same zest that he applies to most things in his life.

Not much time left. As he himself would so aptly comment, speaking with that infectious chuckle in his voice: ‘It’s all go — but I love it.’

That’s Taylor to a tee.

The post Shaw Taylor appeared first on THIS IS ATV NETWORK from Transdiffusion.

From the ATV Television Show Book 1963

This, then, was the setting, in March, for the rehearsals of ATV’s second “A Golden Hour” programme. The greatest names from the worlds of ballet and opera were preparing to bring their arts to millions of people who ordinarily would never have the opportunity of seeing and hearing such international artistes.

The huge velvet stage curtains bearing the insignia EiiR were down. One could almost feel the years rolling away. Almost instinctively thoughts turned to the great names of the past — artistes whose names will live forever, and who had brought their genius to this, tradition-soaked theatre…. Enrico Caruso, the Neapolitan, first came to sing to a bejewelled audience from this very stage exactly 61 years ago. Nijinsky danced his way to immortality here. Scotti, Melba, Destin, Chaliapine and Pertile have all become part of the history of the Royal Opera House.

The silence was broken by the crash of percussion and it was a return to the present. The Royal Opera House Orchestra had plunged into the vibrant music to be used later by the Hungarian State Dance Ensemble. “Fortissimo”, cried the stocky Hungarian conductor as, with flailing arms, he brought the orchestra to the climax of the composition.

From a seat in the stalls, Sir Malcolm Sargent, who was to conduct the orchestra for the remainder of the programme, watched with interest. An opera house official brought a burly, smiling gentleman to Sir Malcolm. “Sir Malcolm, this is Mr. Boris Christoff,” said the official.

“I am delighted to meet you,” beamed Sargent.

“It is my pleasure, maestro,” replied Christoff, the great Bulgarian bass.

Soon, Sargent was standing before the orchestra. Beside him Christoff rehearsed the two pieces he was to sing in the programme, his rich, deep voice resounding around the opera house.

Regine Crespin, the French lyric-dramatic soprano, was next to rehearse with the orchestra. The echoes were set ringing as Madame Crespin’s magnificent voice sang the opening bars of the well-known “Vissi d’Arte” from “Tosca”.

Then the slim, elegant figure of Rudolf Nurevev stepped from the shadows at the side of the auditorium. He leaned nonchalantly over the orchestra-pit barrier beside Sir Malcolm Sargent as the beautiful music of “Les Sylphides” filled the theatre. Later, Nurevev partnered Dame Margot Fonteyn in the Pas de Deux from “Les Sylphides” and the famous “Le Corsaire”.

The two “Golden Hour” programmes so far produced by ATV — the first in November of last year — brought a wealth of artistic talent into the homes of millions throughout the country. Under one roof, the cream of the world’s singers, dancers and musicians gave live performances and reached a vast television audience.

The almost legendary Maria Callas sang “Carmen” in the first “A Golden Hour” programme. Guiseppe di Stefano, the great Italian tenor, was in the same programme. He sang magnificently, despite the handicap of influenza. Pallet stars Svetlana Beriosova and Donald MacLeary, violinist Mischa Elman and Jose Greco’s Spanish Dance Company added their individual magic to the programme. Everyone agreed it was a wonderful night.

The second programme was equally successful. Many young people with aspirations for the ballet were particularly interested. Short of going to a major city, where else could they be treated to a performance by artistes of the calibre of Fonteyn and Nurevev? The grace and beauty of every movement was captured close-up by ATV’s cameras.

Sir David Webster, the General Administrator of the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, and the man who introduced both programmes, has this to say of the programmes: “I am a great believer in quality entertainment. I believe that the mass of television viewers at this time are hungry for the finest dancers, singers and musicians on their screens. The reaction to the two “A Golden Hour” programmes confirmed this view. I also believe that programmes of this type must come from Covent Garden itself, and not from a studio. It certainly makes all the difference to the artistes’ feelings, and consequently their performances, and I also believe that some of the extraordinary beauty and atmosphere of the most wonderful of all opera houses actually comes across to the viewer.”

ATV plan to produce two or three “A Golden Hour” programmes each year. Judging from the response to the first two, it is a decision that will be welcomed by viewers all over Britain.

The post A Golden Hour appeared first on THIS IS ATV NETWORK from Transdiffusion.

So began Emergency — Ward 10 — and the series has been running continuously (except for a break brought about by the Equity dispute) ever since. Last May it reached its 500th performance.

No one in those early days could have foreseen the tremendous popularity that this series would achieve.

Tessa Diamond has written many of the scripts for the series, and today a team of writers work on the programmes. During the six years that have elapsed since the first Ward 10 story went on the air, writers, producers and artistes have changed. But the series retains its high viewing figures. The first programme, in February 1957, was watched by a million viewers. Today, the figure is 16½ million.

Two of the longest serving members of the cast are Australian actor Charles (known to his friends as Bud) Tingwell — who plays Consultant Alan Dawson — and attractive Jill Browne, Nurse Carole Young. Today the close-knit team of artistes includes Desmond Carrington (Dr. Chris Anderson), Anne Brooks (Nurse Jill Craig), Paula Byrne (Dr. Frances Whitney), David Butler (Dr. Nick Williams), John Line (R.S.O. Shaw) and William Dysart (Dr. Maclean).

Emergency — Ward 10 has always paid close attention to detail, and although its primary aim is to entertain, it can—indeed has—helped to bring to the public’s attention the importance of certain real-life medical services, such as immunisation against polio, the importance of blood donors, cancer research, and preventative measures against road accidents and accidents in the home. These are services for which the programmes have received praise from the medical profession and from religious bodies.

John Cooper, the present producer, is the series’ fourth since 1957. Cooper is particularly anxious that details of the programme’s story-lines should not become known in advance of each episode’s transmission. Cooper believes that advance knowledge of the plot kills the true-to-life illusion. ‘We like to believe,’ he says, ‘that what you watch is actually happening in Ward 10 at the time you see it.’

Despite this authentic air of spontaneity, tremendous preparation goes into each episode of Emergency — Ward 10. An episode is born at a script conference attended by all the writers. Today the writing team includes Diana Morgan, Robert Holmes and Rachel Grieve. Also at the conference is Cooper, his production assistant, Carol Williams, and the series’ medical advisers. Within a few days the first draft scripts are in the producer’s hands and the medical advisers check them for authenticity. Then the artistes are brought in for rehearsals.

The first rehearsal takes place in one of the spacious rehearsal rooms at ATV’s Studio Centre at Boreham Wood, Hertfordshire. All the artistes connected with the episode are called and they ‘walk-through’ with the producer using only the barest of props—perhaps a table, chair, a telephone, sometimes a bed. After perhaps two days of this kind of rehearsal the whole company move into the studio.

By now, scripts will have been distributed to all the other studio departments. The sets will be well under construction, the props section will be providing the necessary dressing for the sets, wardrobe will be arranging costumes and make-up will be standing by. The technical departments, such as lighting, sound and cameras, will be lining up their equipment.

The producer now takes his artistes through the scenes in the exact settings of the actual transmission. On the day of the performance the artistes are made-up and appear in full costume for the final dress rehearsal. Cameras and sound have been rehearsing steadily, co-ordinating their movements under the producer’s instruction. Now all is ready for the programme itself.

For the artistes the pace is hot. Learning two scripts a week, rehearsals and more rehearsals take up most of every day of the week, leaving few opportunities for spare time activities.

But to say that they enjoy their work would be an under-statement. A visitor to a Ward 10 rehearsal is certain to find high spirits. Not that the cast do not take their work seriously—they certainly do. But there is the ever present good humour that is reflected on the screen in the happy atmosphere of Oxbridge Hospital.

It is not only the artistes who are serious in their approach to the programme. The public, too, are sometimes carried away by the authenticity of the series. Frequently telephone calls are received from members of the public who wish to discuss their ailments with Mr. Dawson or Dr. Anderson.

How do the artistes feel about their respective roles?

Charles Tingwell says: ‘I have always admired people who are deeply engrossed in their jobs, particularly men with a sense of vocation — as in medicine or the church. So I enjoy playing Alan Dawson and trying to get inside the character to act and think as I believe he would.’

‘Playing Nurse Carole Young has affected me in several ways,’ says Jill Browne. ‘Sometimes I wonder who I really am. Whenever I hear anybody say “Carole,” I respond automatically — even when they are not talking to me.’

This is the measure of how her two personalities have become entwined. In fact, she would seem to have three personalities — her own, the trained actress and the character of Nurse Young!

Desmond Carrington, too, has found his private life becoming involved with his role of Dr. Chris Anderson. ‘When Barbara Clegg had to leave the series,’ he says, ‘the scriptwriters decided that Barbara — who played my wife in Ward 10 — would be drowned in a flood. I received so many letters of consolation from viewers after this episode had taken place, that I really began to think that I had had a bereavement.’

Such examples show how ‘real’ to viewers Emergency — Ward 10 has become. The series has successfully combined first-class entertainment with helpful and informative information about everyday hospital life. It has also helped to eliminate the dread many people have of entering hospital. Could this, in fact, be the secret of its staggering success?

The post Emergency – Ward 10 appeared first on THIS IS ATV NETWORK from Transdiffusion.

Although the series was intended to cater for the younger viewer, the age groups of those who follow the adventures of Steve Zodiac, Venus and company range from 5 to 50 — and many more beyond.

Fireball XL 5 is a spaceship, the biggest of its type and over 300 feet in length. It is rocket-propelled. It can be away from its base for months at a time. Completely self-contained, it has living quarters for all its crew, with an ultra-modernistic lounge, observation window, a laboratory for research and an “astrascope”, which enables its crew to see in any conditions. It has a nose cone (“Fireball Junior”) which detaches itself from the main part of the spaceship and can make a landing while the spaceship continues in orbit.

Part of the equipment is a set of “jetmobiles”, the motor-cycles of the future, which can travel across any type of terrain, either on land or air-cushioned a few feet higher. They enable their riders to explore any of the planets being visited.

Fireball XL 5 is part of the World Space Patrol fleet. Each spaceship in the patrol controls a different area in outer space. The patrol’s base is Space City, on an island in the Pacific, a purely scientific establishment with a revolving skyscraper, enormous control-tower, laboratories and equipment for propelling the ships into space. Communication can be maintained between base and the spaceships patrolling outer space.

The new puppet characters which come to the TV screen in “Fireball XL 5″ are, like their popular predecessors in “Supercar”, electronically operated. Their heads are made of fibre glass and contain solenoid cells which automatically control their lip movements as they react to the vocal pitches of the human voices speaking the words. The voices are pre-recorded and played back from the control-room as the action is filmed, each wired to the respective puppet players.

The star of the stories is Steve Zodiac, blond, handsome, and in charge of Fireball XL 5. As he patrols a sector of the universe beyond the solar system, he has with him Professor Matthew Matic, a navigation mathematics genius, who has his own navigation bay in the spaceship. Also on board the spaceship is an attractive blonde, Venus, a doctor of space medicine, with her own laboratory in the craft. She possesses a fascinating Continental accent, and accompanies Steve Zodiac on his explorations and adventures.

Another of the regular characters is Robert the Robot, a transparent mechanical man and automatic pilot in the spaceship. He can walk — controlled by sound-waves. He has one particular eccentricity. If his orders are changed or anything goes wrong, he literally gets steamed up. The steam is set off electronically from his head!

Among the many other characters who come into the stories from episode to episode is a lovable animal called a “lazoon”, which comes from another planet.

Because of the out-of-this-world techniques needed for the series, the Andersons and their talented crew created a Special Effects studio, which was added to the existing studio and manned by a skilled team of experts in this aspect of film-making. This studio-within-a-studio is complete in every detail and proved capable of providing all the unique scenes required for the first-ever puppet series dealing with life in outer space in a hundred years’ time.

Space City was built in this studio, enabling close-ups to be shot of the spaceships being fired from their rocket bases and returning safely to land. The model-makers also created numerous planets, with their unusual surfaces shown in minutest detail.

Every type of special-effects procedure is carried out, and the “backroom” boys do a truly wonderful job of creating realistic explosions and planet atmospheres.

The stories in “Fireball XL 5” are thrill-packed. There have never been such unusual adventures on the TV screen. And each one is different. As the spaceship speeds through outer space on its normal patrol, anything may happen. It may run into unexpected trouble, or an urgent message may be flashed to it from base. Steve Zodiac never knows what may be in store for him. He has to intercept a missile which has been fired from an enemy planet and is powerful enough to blow up the whole earth. He explores mysterious underground caverns on a planet and meets weird Green Men who take him prisoner and also capture Venus. There is excitement when a space fuel tanker is being taken to other planets and space pirates come into action. Steve also has adventure in roughing up spies in space, and there was even an episode in which he met a space circus, complete with gipsies and caravans.

There is nothing horrific in the series. The thrills and adventures are achieved without resorting to bloodshed. When it is necessary, for instance, to overcome the occupiers of a planet, a ray gun is fired at them, but instead of this being a lethal weapon it fires coma rays which reduce the enemy to temporary unconsciousness. It has been the thinking of the planners of the programmes not to present Fireball XL 5 as a war machine, but rather as a vehicle used to patrol outer space and keep the peace.

The post Fireball XL5 appeared first on THIS IS ATV NETWORK from Transdiffusion.

“On the Braden Beat”, as far as television viewers are concerned, is a one-man show. That man is the Canadian-born actor Bernard Braden.

Braden describes his 20-minute programme as “a type of journalistic column of the little screen”. As such the main aim of the show is topicality. An item of news which has caught Braden’s eye can be commented on in a way which is essentially Bradenesque: searching, biting, sympathetic, as the occasion demands—and if it deserves the full impact of the Braden-type humour, then it gets it!

An experienced man of the stage, radio and TV, Bernard Braden can be, in turn, author, poet, composer — as well as displaying his natural talents as a mimic and entertainer.

In his attitude to life Braden has two definite and constantly underlined dislikes: discrimination (whether on grounds of race, religion or politics) and the exploitation of the little man. Much of the material he has featured in his programmes has its origin in these deep-founded beliefs. And he likes nothing better than to learn of examples of these from the very people to whom he speaks through his show.

Braden does not set himself up as a preacher, nor as a corrector of wrongs, but he honestly believes that, by bringing what he considers to be malpractices—whether of landlords, big business, politicians, civil servants or merely smart-Alec door-to-door salesmen—to the attention of the general public he will have done something to rectify a wrong.

Braden likes people. His programmes prove this, for it is essentially about people and what he thinks will interest them that is his governing approach to the planning of each programme.

From his relaxed position behind the big desk into which he slumps in a cloud of cigarette smoke at the beginning of each show he waxes, seemingly at random, about topics of the day which are currently occupying the attention of most of his viewers. He gives his opinion on new books, films, gramophone records, new styles of fashion, personalities in the news, incidents which have caught the public imagination.

But there is no random approach to the content of a programme. For the five days preceding each show Braden and his team of four writers will have been out and about — in pubs, clubs, offices, shops, meeting the people whose interests are mirrored in the programme, finding out what they are talking about and what is currently interesting them most.

With humbug and officiousness Braden is particularly scathing. Using a special talent for mickey-taking, where music and words can be married to tear away the last vestige of false respectability, ht has perfected a means of writing lyrics to popular songs which he sings while “doctored” photographs of some special subject whom he wishes to expose or hold up to ribaldry appear on the screen. It is often an embarrassing experience for the person under fire, but it is never undertaken purely with malicious intent. The presentation is always amusing, reflecting technique in its concept and presentation, and if behind the humour and impact the Braden message comes through, then this more than satisfies the author.

When Bernard Braden is “On the Braden Beat” anything is fair game for comment. This is how Braden likes it, and judging by the popularity of his , programme it is also to the liking of the millions who make a point of staying up late to be with him on one night of every week as he looks at life and all that goes to make it up.

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