'It Was 50 Years Ago Today!'

Quoting as I did in my blog post title, to the Beatles album track 'Sergent Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.' It's something of an anniversary this weekend. It's exactly 50 years ago that I started work, as a very green 18-year-old, when I went to work as a student A.S.M. at the Everyman Theatre in Cheltenham. I was taken down to Cheltenham by my mum in the Land Rover because it was snowing heavily and I had lots of luggage, including a bicycle to take. I had to live in the Y.M.C.A. because my mum didn't think I'd be able to manage on my own in a flat. I was eventually to live with a family in Cheltenham as a lodger. Whether I would have managed on my own in a flat is open to doubt. I wasn't given a chance to find out, but I suppose, as I was the first of her five sons to go away from home, she was only doing what she thought was the best for me. 

I was thrown into the deep end because that first Monday I went to work at the Everyman was the technical rehearsal for the latest play, an adaptation of 'Jane Eyre,' which had Angela Richards as Jane and Philip Voss playing Rochester. It would have been quite an eye-opener for me, as generally a technical rehearsal can be a very long and tiring experience, going on all day and probably into the early hours of the next day. The play is virtually taken apart and lighting and sound cues rehearsed, along with scene changes and it will be the first time the actors as well as the stage management, got to see and experience the set. Some of the scene changes could be very complicated, with the set consisting of several wheeled units or 'trucks,' built on platforms which had castors underneath them and could be difficult to manoeuvre over the stage floor which was built at a slight angle or 'rake,' meaning if you weren't careful, they could disappear over the edge of the stage and possibly fall into the audience, so each 'truck' had to be equipped with bolts which could be pushed into drilled holes in the stage floor to prevent them moving once in place. On the following Tuesday there would be a dress rehearsal, that is, if the technical rehearsal went on too long on the Monday. This would be almost like an actual performance, but without an audience, although the director would be making notes throughout and after the dress rehearsal he or she would gather all the actors and stage management to give these notes, for example, could a scene change be done quicker, could doors be prevented from opening or squeaking unnecessarily etc etc, as well as tweeking sound or lighting cues and endless other things that might need rectifying before the first night.

I think I was put on helping during scene changes. There would be a 'curtain drop, which was meant to be very short and you'd have to go on stage and place a prop or take something away. It could be barely a minute so you had to absolutely sure what you were expected to do. It could be quite difficult if you had to set a piece of furniture, probably carrying it on with another member of stage management and make quite sure it was positioned correctly. Coloured tape was put on the stage floor and usually the 'up-stage' legs of, say, a table or chair, would be marked and it could be quite difficult to find these coloured marks, particularly if you had such a short time to find them as well as the fact that there probably wasn't much light to see by, and then exit rapidly before the curtain went up on the next scene of the play. If it was a prop that was vital to the plot, or the piece of furniture was wrongly positioned, it could ruin the performance. Can you think of a prop, such as a vital piece of evidence in a 'whodunnit', if it's missing and the police, who are looking for evidence, suddenly that vital 'prop' is missing? Or the murderer looks in the drawer of a desk to find the weapon to shoot another character, and it's missing? Could be devastating. So, you needed to be on your toes when setting as well as striking props.

Another couple of anniversaries in 2019. It was on 20th July 1969 that the first humans went to the moon and walked on the surface. Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin explored the lunar surface while Michael Collins remained in the Apollo 11 module, piloting the capsule around the moon. I recall watching this historic event unfold on television, in really grainy black and white pictures. I'm not sure I was that interested and the television coverage seemed to go on for a long time, even though the picture quality wasn't particularly brilliant. A D.S.M. at the Everyman insisted on me going to a jewellers shop in Cheltenham to get a model of the Apollo module which was on display in their window. As part of our job, we had to go and beg, steal or borrow items from local business for use as props in the plays we were staging during that season. It took me a while to pluck up courage to go and ask for whatever was required in a particular production, such as a tea set or, in one case, a samovar. If the business lent an item they got a credit mention in the play's programme and also got a couple of free tickets for the play. So, it didn't take me much courage to go and ask in that jeweller's to get that model. I duly came back and presented it to the D.S.M., who would have been more senior to me in the pecking order. Why couldn't he have gone and asked himself? I don't know, looking back, but probably to see if I would obey orders or just because he couldn't do it himself.

The other anniversary would be the fact that I passed my driving test whilst working in Cheltenham. I had been taking lessons before arriving in Cheltenham and had my first test during the break in the season and I'd gone home for the week. Consequently I had failed, and when I had returned to Cheltenham, I resumed taking lessons and then went on to take a second test, which I passed and the my parents bought me my first car, a two-tone green Ford Anglia, which cost the princely sum of £75! It lasted probably two or three years until it finally bit the dust. It had an odd habit. When it rained, you put on the windscreen wipers and if you went fast, they moved slowly, but if you were driving slowly, say, going up a steep hill, they went fast. Can't see how or why, but presumably they were linked to the speed of the engine. Also, you dipped the lights, when you drove at night, by using your foot on the floor, to depress a pedal near the accelerator pedal. It's a pity modern cars don't have this pedal to dip the headlights. Something you don't have to do nowadays when you learn to drive, and that's to use hand signals. Sticking your hand out to show you're intentions to move left or right or slow down seems a rather foolhardy thing to do. Most likely if you were to do it today you'd get some strange looks and possibly get your arm knocked off by a passing vehicle. 

Learning To Drive, Lorries and First Cars

I was learning to drive at the time I went off to work as a Student A.S.M. at the Everyman Theatre in 1969 (details of which are described fairly fully in an earlier blog post.) During the season break I returned home and did my driving test in Bedford but failed miserably. Not keeping up with the traffic and failing to turn either right or left when I should have done were the reasons for the failure. On returning to Cheltenham I continued with some more driving lessons and then passed successfully. My parents bought me my first car, a Ford Anglia which came in two shades of green and cost the princely sum of £75. Amazing when you think about it, but I suppose in 1969 with amount people earned per week, that was probably quite a lot of money. I think my first proper wage was somewhere in the region of £10 per week. The cost of a gallon of petrol would probably have been in the region of 30p. That little Anglia, christened Henrietta, got me about quite successfully. It had one peculiarity. When it rained and you needed to use the windscreen wipers, they went fast when you drove slowly and slowed down whenever you drove fast. Don't ask me why. Just the way the car operated. So, if it was raining and you were driving up a hill and in a low gear, the wipers sped up. Going down the other side of the hill and you went a good deal faster, they slowed down. 

It took me a good deal of time to pluck up courage to go off and drive on my own, probably because when you learn to drive you always have someone in the driving seat next to you. When you first learn to drive on the public highway, it takes some time to get used to having cars coming towards you, even if they are on he opposite side of the road. When I did eventually get used to driving myself then there was no problem. That little car lasted a few years. I had it when I worked at Colchester Rep, then Midlands Arts Centre and drove me up to Liverpool. I think that was the first time I'd driven on a motorway. At that time you had to drive through Birmingham because Spaghetti Junction hadn't been opened then so to get from the M1 to the M6 you had to negotiate the centre of Birmingham. It seems so simple now when driving north. When I went to work at Greenwich I had to drive into the centre of London, after one of the shows we did, because I had my own car, it was decided that I could use it to return some props to the suppliers around Covent Garden. I'd never driven into the centre of London before and had to go round Marble Arch during rush-hour which was not something I had ever contemplated doing before (and, frankly, don't really want to do now, as it happens.) I think I just more or less shut my eyes and just went for it (metaphorically, not really, you understand.) I do remember once when I worked at the theatre in Watford having to drive a large lorry into central London with a load of furniture on the back, including a piano. Unfortunately this lorry had a fault. You could only turn off the engine by stalling it. I went with another A.S.M. in pouring rain and we got lost in Covent Garden and went the wrong way down a one-way street and ended up having to reverse out, which wasn't something I wouldn't wish to repeat.