The next Bruce Forsyth? My friend was a one-off
If you had told Bruce in 1957, when he and I were doing six shows a day, six days a week at the Windmill - to an audience who’d only come to see the nudes - that he would be hailed a ‘national treasure’ 60 years later, he would have laughed you out of the room.
After a particularly heavy week at the Windmill, he told me he was thinking of packing it in: “I’ve got as far as I’m going to get. I’m going to open a little tobacconist.”
The following year, he was announced as the new compere on Sunday Night at the Palladium, the job which would propel him to stardom. I bumped into him coming out of a press conference, and as we embraced, I asked: “What happened to the tobacconists then?” He said: “Postponed.”
Bruce was made for television and that job was his big break. A brilliant agent called Billy Marsh had heard about this man who could do the lot - sing, dance, do impressions and fool about with an audience. He had that special quality very few (in fact, Terry Wogan may have been the only other) are blessed with. He made you feel as if he were talking to you, and only you.
Millions of people tuned in to watch him, and stars lined up to appear with him. I can’t remember anybody ever turning him down. Sammy Davis Jr became a great friend, because he was on the show so much. They all knew he was a safe pair of hands who could share his stage with anyone and create fun and warmth.
Of course, he revelled in the times it all went wrong. When we worked together on the Generation Game, he was always looking for that moment where he could deviate from a script or a format.
He told me once he had thought Strictly was going to be more like that: he imagined he’d be able to fool about with the contestants, which he did in the warm-up before the recording. But once he was on, he had to stick to the script and read an autocue, which seemed like a straightjacket, to me. He was great on Strictly, he loved doing it and people loved watching him on it. But I used to think - let him loose, let him mess about more, that was his great strength.
That was how his catchphrases always came about - by messing about. One of his most enduring was born on Beat the Clock, when he had a very pushy woman on stage one night, who was almost taking over midway through the performance. He turned to her and said, absolutely straight faced: “I’m in charge”. The audience roared with laughter, and the rest is history.
That was Bruce’s brilliant gift. You couldn’t write jokes for him, you merely suggested lines or scenarios which could be funny and then just watched him run with them. It was such a thrill when he used one of your ideas. I remember we once went to see Bette Midler at the Palladium because she was due to come on one of his shows. During the performance she lay down on the stage on a mattress and sang a song. I said to Bruce: “You ought to do that”. Sure enough, when she came on the show they did the entire interview and sang a song lying on a mattress. It was brilliant. He could grab an idea and make it funny like no one else.
I’m always asked if there is anyone in the industry now who could be considered the next Bruce Forsyth. In my humble opinion, he was a one-off. But in spite of his incomparable career, he was never complacent. He’d worry about the next job like anyone else. When I do shows now I’ll worry beforehand, but when I’m on stage I relax, because I think: “I’m with my mates - the audience.”
I got that from Bruce. When he appeared on stage or on screen, you instantly relaxed. You just knew that whatever he did, whatever went wrong, it would be alright. He would make it funny.
He always said to me: “I want to be aware when I should pack it in”. Thankfully, for those of us who have got so much pleasure from watching and working with him over the years, that never really happened - and the tobacconist remained unopened.
