AND SO TO the final chapter … of this book, not my career! There’s still plenty of that to be enjoyed in the years ahead. Now into my eighth decade as a performer I am as active as I wish to be – which is a truly marvellous thing to be able to say.
Strictly played a major role in my professional life between 2004 and 2013 but, in addition to that fantastic show, in what is now the second decade of the twenty-first century, I continue to take on fresh challenges. I couldn’t wish for more.
Here, then, is a snapshot of what I’ve been up to in recent years.
FIRST IS A VOYAGE of discovery. In 2010 I took part in the BBC show Who Do You Think You Are? in which well-known personalities are assisted in tracing their family history. The show focused on my paternal great-grandfather, Joseph Forsyth-Johnson, pictured here, whom my father rarely mentioned. I knew he had been a gardener, but that was about it … until my interest was ignited by an astonishing letter I received from a lady in America. In the note, she suggested that not only might we be related through Joseph Forsyth-Johnson but that he had died at sea and was possibly a bigamist! Needless to say, I was fascinated to learn more.
My cousin Alan Johnson – our family historian – set me on the trail with some information he had found out about our great-grandfather, and from there I was in the hands of the producer and director. I had no idea where they, or the story, would lead me.
Now, there is a huge amount of work that goes on behind the scenes, but that was all kept entirely from me. As one surprise and shock followed another, I was continually astonished at what I discovered. I knew nothing about what had been uncovered until I was told on camera. That’s one of the reasons enjoyed the show so much. Everything that the viewers saw was totally genuine.
‘Today, Bruce, you’re going to meet Katherine Hughes, a social historian at the Arts Club in Mayfair.’ Oh, lovely!
And then, further into filming, I would be introduced to ‘Ken Cobb, senior archivist at the New York Municipal Archive’ or ‘Paul Crater, senior librarian at the Atlanta History Center’ – just a couple of the many experts who played their part. In meeting these various people, all on film, I had to have an instant reaction, to ad-lib if you like.
As you can imagine, I loved every moment of it.
Now, I’m not going to go into all the twists and turns of Joseph’s story here. I don’t want to ruin the show for you, should you have a chance to see it. I assure you it’s worth it. I don’t say that because I’m involved, not at all. It’s the life Joseph led that makes the programme so fascinating, and the hard work put in by the Who Do You Think You Are? team, as well as all those amazing archivists and experts who contributed. They are the stars of the show.
As a taster, however, I will say that the original letter I received was partly correct. I did meet a whole new side of my family, which was incredibly moving, but Joseph was not legally a bigamist, and he did not die at sea. For a time he became quite a famous figure in the US, and then his life took a very different turn. That’s all I’m saying.
NOW I KNOW WHERE THAT LOVE CAME FROM.
One last thought on this. Way back at the beginning of this book I mentioned my love of the flowers growing in my mother’s garden. Well, now I know where that love came from. Great-grandfather Joseph turned out to be quite a landscape gardener. That’s something I can thank him for.
IN 2011 I RECORDED an album called These Are My Favourites to celebrate my forthcoming seventieth anniversary in show-business. I had a brilliant team of producers and arrangers behind me, and a superb group of musicians to accompany me. It was fabulous to be back in a studio, at the piano, singing some of the greatest songs ever written.
There are two duets on the album, both remarkable to me in different ways. On the very appropriately titled ‘Smile’, it was an absolute joy to sing with my granddaughter Sophie Purdie, Julie and Dominic’s daughter. Here we are rehearsing. My expression says it all.
AS FOR THE SECOND duet, I still shake my head in amazement when I think about it. I can’t quite believe it’s true. Yet it is. The song is ‘Paper Moon’ and I’m singing with Nat King Cole. Yes, Nat King Cole. And this is not a case of two tracks being spliced together. I am actually singing with Nat King Cole.
How is that possible? I only ever met him on those two days in May 1960, at Sunday Night at the London Palladium and The Royal Variety Performance. Let me explain.
A neighbour of mine, Margaret, received a parcel containing a CD. The parcel was sent by someone Margaret knew, who was aware that she and I were friends. This person thought I might be interested in what the CD contained.
Might be!
It astonished me.
At this point in my story the facts become a little hazy, but somehow, on the night of 15 May 1960, when Nat and I sang together on the stage of the Palladium, someone recorded us. That person must have been in the broadcast truck. The sound quality is too good to have been taped off the television. Whoever did it, I have no idea. Why they did it, I have no idea. And where the recording has been all these years, I have no idea. But thank you, whoever you are.
We recorded new music for the album version, but the voices you hear are Nat’s and mine, singing on that night. You can even make out Nat laughing at one point when I do a slight impersonation of him singing. More than fifty years on from the only time I sang live with one of my all-time heroes, we are once again duetting. A moment in time I thought lost for ever is now part of the present. As I said, it’s hard to believe.
OVER THE COURSE OF this book I have discussed some of the playbills that have represented milestones in my career. Well, here is a final one for you, which I think goes to show that if you remain in show-business long enough you never know what might happen – you see, the times they’re always a-changin’!
WHAT A DAY IT was at the Hop Farm. Another new challenge to relish: my first festival, performing outdoors, in the afternoon, on a big open stage in front of a huge audience. I do hope they stuck around for Bob.
I really did not know if this was going to be a success. Was it a venue too far for me? It turns out it wasn’t. The reception I was given was extraordinary. Yet another thing I found hard to believe.
A YEAR LATER I was back on the festival trail, this time at the biggest one of all – Glastonbury. When my appearance was announced, the reaction was generally one of astonishment.
So many people contacted me and said, ‘What are you going to do at Glastonbury? What are you going to do?’
‘I’m going to do what I always do,’ I replied. ‘I’m going to sing, dance, play piano, do some impersonations, have fun with people from the audience.’
I may have sounded confident, but just before I walked out on to the Avalon stage on the afternoon of 30 June 2013, I was very nervous. My audience consisted of twenty-, thirty- and forty-year-olds. Virtually no one older. I knew how my show went down with my regular audience, but this crowd? They were so young, to me at least. How would they react? Would they give me a chance? And could I transform such a different venue for me into a variety theatre?
I could. The Glastonbury crowd proved to be a well-versed variety audience and a marvellous one at that. Honestly, I have never been so well received. Going right back through the ages, as far as I can remember, they were the best I have experienced. I was absolutely stunned.
Listening to BBC radio on my way home, I heard that the organizers had been forced to close the gates at the Avalon stage during my performance because so many people wanted to get in. What a thing to happen.
THE MOMENT I EMERGED onstage the reaction was staggering. Suddenly, I felt at home. It could have been a small Summer Season theatre that I knew well, or a huge venue like the Palladium, it didn’t matter. I had a sense that I belonged out there. That in itself astonished me.
NOW, AS YOU KNOW, I love audience participation. I especially enjoy persuading people to come up on to the stage to dance and have some laughs. However, I wasn’t sure it would work at Glastonbury, given that most people were wearing wellingtons or heavy boots. But as I have said, I was determined to do what I always do.
‘Now it’s time for the big Hollywood musical number,’ I announced. ‘I’m dying to do it, but I haven’t got any backing.’
Then, at random, I picked four guys from the audience and asked them to help me.
‘I’ve always thought you can tell if someone is a good dancer by the way they walk,’ I explained, as the guys lined up on the stage. ‘Will you please walk over to the side there, where you’ll be given a hat? I’m going to study you … to see if you can be a dancer. Now, who do you want to be? Fred Astaire or Mick Jagger?’ The guys would then make up their mind and individually walk across the stage imitating whoever they had chosen. I, of course, had a bit of fun with each of them in turn.
WHEN THEY REAPPEARED, WE did the Fred Astaire number ‘Top Hat’ together, with the guys copying my moves. There is definitely a touch of The Generation Game in this, and audiences always respond very well to that. It was no different at Glastonbury. The crowd loved my new backing dancers and they loved the show. And I loved the Glastonbury crowd.
When I came off a journalist tried to interview me. I could barely speak to him. ‘Bruce,’ he said, ‘this has really affected you, hasn’t it?’
It had. I was completely blown away. All these young people had come to see my performance and given me such an overwhelming and positive response. They made me feel ten feet tall.
I’M APPROACHING THE END of the book now, but before I go I briefly want to mention one of the best things I’ve been involved with in the past few years – the television show I did in September 2013, When Miranda Met Bruce.
Miranda Hart was terrific to work with. She’s a delightful person and a fabulous entertainer. She’s game to give anything a go, and she does it all with infectious enthusiasm.
The show was a lovely idea, looking back on my career and reliving some of the funniest moments, such as Daphne Cox from The Generation Game. We even recreated one of the games from SNAP, with Miranda trying to throw a shuttlecock into a cup I was holding.
In particular, I enjoyed the piano routine we worked out, which we are rehearsing here.
WHEN WE BOTH MESSED up our duet, I turned to the studio audience and said, ‘I used to think Les Dawson was bad!’ They loved that. It was the kind of show, pure Saturday-night family entertainment, that still works and is still funny. Being capable of achieving that is one of Miranda’s many talents.
As she herself would say, it was ‘such fun’.
FINALLY, AS A SONG-AND-DANCE man at heart, I’m going to round off this look back on my career to date with some recent memories of my one-man show. That seems fitting, given it is the accumulation of so many of the elements that have made up my professional life.
In May 2012 I returned to the Royal Albert Hall where I first appeared in 1964, when I presented a show called The Baird Festival of Television. I had been back many times since, but never as a solo performer.
YOU CAN SEE ME here, on one of the grandest stages of all, seventy years after ‘Boy Bruce, the Might Atom’ arrived at the Theatre Royal, Bilston, to perform in a page-boy uniform. Remarkable. This time I didn’t have my ukulele with me. Lucky audience.
DURING THE EVENING I was joined by a member of my ‘family’. When I was halfway through singing ‘Young And Foolish’ my ‘love child’, Anton du Beke, appeared with his partner Erin Boag. They danced beautifully as I continued with the song. I then stepped in to dance with Erin, with Anton looking on, no doubt hoping to learn some new steps. But when Anton made a move to sing, I wasn’t having any of it. I grabbed the microphone back from him. After all, I’m in charge.
It was a lovely little comedy routine and I was so pleased they had agreed to do it with me.
LATER IN THE SHOW, to add to an evening already so full of wonder, a very, very special guest accompanied me onstage, this time a real member of the family – my granddaughter Sophie. We sang ‘Smile’ together. It was an unbelievable experience for this grandfather. I couldn’t have been more proud of her.
Then in June this year, at the age of eighty-seven, I returned with my one-man show to the London Palladium. As I stepped out on to that famous stage once again … SNAP! The years melted away.
HOW TO END?
Well, as you know, I usually like to have the last word. This time, however, I am going to take my bow first and leave my family onstage. No, really, I am.
Left to right, here they are: Charlie and George; Tommy and Poppy; Jeremy; Josie (my first granddaughter to tell me I was going to be a greatgrandfather!) and Noah; Julie; Charlotte and Harry; Jamie; Louisa; Winnie and me; JJ; Debbie; Richard; Laura holding hands with Libby; Dominic; Sophie and Luke. Since this photo was taken, our family has increased even further. Tommy and Josie have a third child, Joel; Jamie and Louisa now have two little girls, Emma and Vivien; Jeremy, my grandson, now has a little boy called Carrick, plus two stepdaughters with his new wife, Kate.
Thank you to all of you who have supported me all these years, and thank you to my family for being, well, for being everything I could ever have wished for.
