John Robbins and Maurice Chevalier

Marnes la Coquette near Paris was where Maurice Chevelier lived and InterTel and crew were privileged to record yet another gentleman at his home. His immaculate lawns gardens, verandas and house were strewn with TV lighting and cables to enable the TK 41s to perform, but Mr Chevalier was un-phased and throughout the perfect gentleman. The interior of the house was tastefully decorated with fine porcelain and silver, and adorning all the walls and staircase, many works of art by Renoir and other famous artists. Pete Johnson had lit the staircase that Maurice was to ascend singing one of his hits, the lights were switched on for a rehearsal and shortly after there was a moment of panic as someone asked if the paintings were still wet or just melting? … Lots of 5Ks can do that. Mr Chevalier was not phased for he was forever the perfect gentleman at all times. His early life had been overwritten in hardship and adversity (well worth a read) but here was a man who had risen to the greatest heights and was not only dearly loved by the French but by audiences around the world for his many contributions in both Music and film. I was indeed honoured to meet such a man. Somewhere along the line I was on camera at the Old Vic for a David Frost Special where Sir Lawrence Olivier re-enacted an excerpt from John Osborne’s “The Entertainer” depicting a washed-up comedian ‘Archie Rice’. Harry Storey tells of our beloved rigger Stan watching this for a while and commenting “I dunno what all the fuss is about, he’s the worst comedian I’ve ever heard.” David Frost was very amused. 

InterTel Colour Services was contracted to cover the International Ice-Skating championships in Vienna, an open-air arena. Therefore, we needed to erect a massive amount of lights to evenly blanket-cover the whole open-air ice-rink to enable the TK 41s to operate. Chris Evans with others worked out we could make our own lights using a vast number of Q I’s strung on an overhead cable system, this, as said, required a great deal of power to produce the nearly 4000 lux required to get passable colour pictures for the TK 41s along with the scanners’ requirement, and so begat Big Bertha, a 1200 Amp @ 240v nearly 300kva single phase generator. The power cables and plugs to the Big Bertha were mammoth and I well remember trying to help Chris Evans manhandle the connectors into place. (They were the size of fire hydrant connectors and screwed together in similar fashion.) But it all worked! The lights at Vienna. They nearly burned Peggy Flemming (World) champion to bits as the Q I’s would occasionally explode with a bang and pieces of red-hot bubble would burn a hole in the ice, What the hell! Dick Button and ABC WW of Sport were happy – But little did they know! It was a sad sight. Two days previously overnight a freak wind blew Harry Storey’s camera and tripod off the roof smashing it to the ground and all seemed lost. But amazingly, Roland Brown and Vic Cornish spent two days and a night rebuilding a TK 41 upwards from its twisted steel bed, that thick base plate had been considerably bent. The three-and-a-half-inch orthicon tubes and prisms were all mounted on a 15 to 20mm thick aluminium base plate which ran the length and width of the camera. After stripping the camera completely, the base plate resembled a computer page curl at one corner, but with some heavy hammering in a nearby workshop they straightened it, reassembled and miraculously got it working in time for rehearsals. I had to use it as a close-up camera and quickly learned how to adjust the zoom as it deviated out of alignment to one side. But all of the above was in a day’s work, we worked incredible hours, often right through the night as did Roland and Vic, whenever necessary. Such was the dedication for each show and our futures were only as good as our last job. Chris Patten remembers :- The BBC were planning to start their brand new BBC 2 channel in April 1964 but had major power problems as large parts of London were suffering an electricity ‘Black Out’ , on the opening night BBC 2 never got to air, www.hywel.org.uk/bbc2launch/ – they managed to keep BBC 1 on air by using their current emergency generators. The following day BBC management hired ‘Big Bertha’ to ensure that BBC 2 would open the next day even if one day late. Sad really, as their first scheduled programme for that day was “Play School”.

Big Bertha being christened by 3 riggers.  With Stanley Donan Directing – a massive dance set up from West Side Story in Trafalgar Square was well under way. Big Generators powering ‘brutes’ lit the square and playback blasting out in all directions for the dancers to leap on lions and dance around the fountains, cameras all strategically placed when mid-morning a local constable meandered up to the scanner, looked at the windscreen and asked Harry Paul the simple question “Where’s the Permit ?” “Uhmm!” My Boss has it at head office. “It’s gotta be on the windscreen ….” At a nearby phone box Harry related “Trevor the Cop wants to see the permit”. “The What ???” And with that the whole production ground to a halt. A sergeant arrived, then an inspector, then Trevor Wallace, and then the chief inspector, then his superior superintendent from Whitehall. Whereupon a meeting was held in the scanner. Trevor came out and with car disappeared for a short while and came back with an attaché case. All the policeman on duty and all their superiors filed one by one in the back door of the scanner and came out the front with a smile, problem solved and from there on the production continued successfully. Once again, the dollar reigned supreme! One costly permit never to be forgotten again! That bloody learning curve!! 

Then in about 1966/7 the Phillips Pc 60 s arrived, and a new era began, for the cameras were considerably lighter, more stable and definitely more user friendly, these were the forerunners of cameras used to date. One of the first jobs on arrival was ABC’s “The Canterville Ghost” starring Douglas Fairbanks Junior, Michael Redgrave, Frankie Howard and Herman (Peter Noone) of a popular group of the day Herman’s Hermits. Michael Redgrave and I were in a blacked-out room as he was dressed as the Ghost and was half supered into the action on set. Suddenly mid-lines he dropped out of frame, a heap on the floor and I couldn’t for the life of me remember that part of the script. He looked as white as his sheeting, but he was supposed to. The poor man had feinted due to his ruff being too tight around his neck. So I had to play doctor, but true to his professional standards, he apologised to everyone profusely and within a few minutes carried on with his distinguished art, ‘slightly unruffled’. 

Then came the trip to Ireland for the Bing Crosby Special Directed by John Robbins. O’Connell Street came to a standstill as the legend crooned his way back into their hearts. Hoath Castle with Milo O’Shea and Bing, the famous Abbey Theatre then on to my favourite Bing wooing the crowds in O’Connell Street – The Guiness Factory where Bing brought everything to a head, and we all had the chance to taste surely the finest Guiness in the world straight from the giant copper vat. I had nearly finished my second glass. It was on this trip that John Robbins and Harry Storey lifted my career, for John and Harry allowed me to take on some of the more difficult shots and sequences. One consisted of 4 sequential 90-degree whip pans to complete the 360 degrees to music as dancers appeared at the end of each corridor of a maze dancing towards me. Today of course that would be an edited sequence but at the time it was cheaper and possibly quicker to make on camera as one continuous shot. I didn’t make it first time, but John held fast and gave me every encouragement to make it, as he did on many a sequence throughout. One has to be very fortunate in life to have those who see and believe in one’s ability to achieve and it is to those kind soles that I owe so much of this story, whether they be drivers, riggers, camera men, directors or management. I owe them all. Mr Crosby accompanied by his wife was also the perfect gentleman as day after day he proved why he was such a success throughout his life.  

We had been to Dublin once before in the TV black and white days, to cover the 50th Anniversary of the Irish revolution – now that was an education and a half. We naturally covered the Post Office and the blown-up stub remains of the column outside and even had a bomb scare issued that we would also be blown up, but it came to naught after I checked under the scanner and tender and only found a mechanic’s old piece of chewing gum stuck near the sump. The following day was The Irish Derby to be run at Fairyhouse racecourse. O’Connell Street was full of people in holiday mood, the scanner had gone to site already and the remaining five of us were to grab a taxi to the big event. That was easy as there were a few waiting, a cab driver hailed us to his cab and we piled in, a bit of a squeeze but OK … “Where to?” He asked … “Fairyhouse Please!” He started the engine then sat dead still for a moment … “Where?” he asked again. “Fairyhouse racecourse – it’s the big Derby.” “Oooh right !!!” … another pause “Dooes any of yers know the way be chance”. “No”, we chorused. “Oh!” … He switched off, got out and asked the nearest cabbie for directions … then finally we were off … We drove the length of O’Connell Street – if half a mile – just beyond the crowds then he turned around and said “Would you’s all mind havin’ a collection lads for we’s all gonna run out petrol mighty soon”. Fortunately we all thought it hilarious and fought with each other to gain access to our pockets but duly coughed up as we swung into a garage forecourt on the edge of town. He then asked for more directions from the attendant and we hysterically passed the comment “Only in Ireland”. Off we went again and turned down a narrow country lane, hedges both sides … “I’m not att’all sure where the devil we are,” he remarked, we were by this time crying with laughter. Suddenly we screamed to a halt beside a man leaning on a five-bar gate. “‘Allo dair” “Could yer’s be tellin’ me the way to …… Where we goin’?” he turned and asked again … “FAIRYHOUSE” we managed to chorus over our tears. “You’s be right on” said the man sucking on a piece of grass “Carry you’s straight on for quite a while then you’s’ ll be passin’ the pub. (suck) Now that means you gone a bit too far for the turnin’ to the right is just a small bit before the pub” … When we finally arrived at Fairyhouse, the rest of the crew couldn’t understand why five adult guys fell out of a taxi and couldn’t even stand, let alone talk, for we were all crying on the ground uncontrollably. Just to round it off – it drifted fine rain throughout the race, and I had been fortunate enough out in the middle of the course to wind my camera cable up 360 degrees (a safety measure I had learnt from earlier days at Kempton Park). It turned out I was the only camera to see the horses for rain after the start and had to follow the whole race one shot, even though I quickly wiped the lens clear of rain with a cloth half way round … the whole thing went out live on air, wipe and all and I was quite famous or was that infamous? On that same visit four of us were enjoying a beer lunch in a nearby pub when the owner came to the table and said we must drink up lads for it’s the ‘Holy hour’ … We were already double stacked and even we couldn’t get rid of nearly 3 pints immediately. We said what about these… pointing at the line up of full glasses … “No problem boys just move yer’selves to me room at the back there, follow me” … on entering his own lounge to the rear of the bar he introduced us to the police sergeant and one of the local priests who also needed a little hour to chat over a drink or two. Only in Ireland!