George Formby’s movies were popular in England and in the USSR (he was awarded the Stalin Prize in 1944) but perhaps not elsewhere very much. In fact, though admittedly more watchable than Norman Wisdom movies, which were popular in England and Albania, they are extremely irritating, and when George gets amorous, a bit disturbing. The Fast Show’s ‘Arthur Atkinson’ character – with his ludicrous catchphrases and unfunny ‘business’ – has made it very difficult to take the popular entertainers of Formby’s generation seriously.
But in fact, as the playwright Dennis Potter kept insisting, British popular music from the 20s to the 40s was as good as any popular music anywhere, ever, and Formby was a performer of some genius. His use of double entendres may be largely for those who like that sort of thing, but he could entrance the demanding music hall audiences of his day, even the fearsome Glasgow Empire.
In 1946 George and his wife Beryl (also his manager) flew to South Africa, Beryl as usual demanding the best of everything. The tour organizers were not sure how to promote George, and publicized him as ‘the male Gracie Fields’ (over 20,000 fans greeted them in Cape Town). The head of the National Party, Daniel Malan (who two years later would introduce apartheid), sent the Formbys a note telling them not to perform to coloured audiences. Beryl tore up the note and the Formbys declared war on the National Party, causing profound regime shock by performing 20 shows for black audiences. Beryl was famously mean, but the Formbys took not a penny for the shows. Crisis came when a black child came on stage at one show and gave Beryl a box of chocolates: Beryl picked her up and kissed her, then passed her to George, who did the same, causing an immediate sensation. Next day Malan sent a delegation giving the Formbys a ‘final warning’, and of course Beryl slammed the door in their face. So Malan phoned Beryl and began to berate her: Beryl, at her most magnificent, simply said ‘Why don’t you piss off, you horrible little man?’ and hung up. The Formbys were thrown out of South Africa.
They visited again in 1955 (Malan had served as prime minister 1948-54) and defied death threats to again perform before black audiences for free. The South African government was incensed, but there was little they could do but fume. The Formbys had fought the rulers of South Africa and won.
What Happened Next
From the inception of apartheid in 1948 to its abolition in 1991, the South African government drew much succour from the visits of western entertainers who were prepared to play to segregated audiences. The Formbys visited both before and after apartheid was given legal formulation, and demonstrated that it was possible to beard the Beast in its lair and give succour to its victims. Alas, however, very few of the British performers who were to tour South Africa from then until the end of apartheid took the same defiant stand of non-compliance with inhuman laws (Dusty Springfield being another notable exception). The furious reactions of Malan and his associates to the open defiance of the Formbys shows clearly how important such gestures could be, and not just in South Africa. In 1955, Marilyn Monroe made a significant breach in the wall of racial discrimination in the US when she persuaded the owner of the Mocambo Hollywood nightclub to allow Ella Fitzgerald to perform on stage – by promising to take a front table for herself every night. In 1955, this was still a brave thing for an American white woman to do; but Monroe, like the Formbys, was prepared to make a stand.
See also 1939: Abel Meeropol sings ‘Strange Fruit’ to Billie Holliday.