The story goes on........
I shall never forget the first time that I sat before a microphone and the red light went on and I realised that I was about to speak to millions of people across the world. Although it was a wonderful feeling it was very frightening and I am sure that my voice quavered through those first few minutes. Then I thought of my Auntie Muriel, my Father's sister, who was a pioneer of Radio before the war. The BBC was called 2LO and she was Auntie Muriel of "The Chidren's Hour" and used to broadcast every day at 5.15 from a small studio that, I think, was over the Kardomah cafe in Liverpool. There were several "Aunties" and "Uncle Mac" and they became very famous. "Voyages with Romany" was another of her programmes and she had her own page on a Saturday in the "Liverpool Echo ", "Auntie Muriel's Treasure Chest " with "Wafer the Cat ". So I used to think that I was following in her footsteps a little. It was Wimbledon time and I dealt with such tongue twisters as Jaroslav Drobny and others that I could not even spell let alone pronounce.
I am still amazed to recall that I carried on with my free lancing flying during the day, always getting back in good time for my evening broadcast and never missing a single one, which considering the English weather and the fact that I was flying pre-war planes, many of them single engined, was pretty amazing. I was taking well known jockeys such as "Scobie" Breasley to race meetings all over the country and would ask them if they had any tips. I always got the same answer "You don't think I am coming here for ####### nothing do you ?" And nothing was what I usually ended up with.
One day, I was told by Captain Bebb that I was to take a gentleman from Croydon to Yeadon, now Leeds Airport and that I was lucky to take him and that I was to scrupuously comply with every request that the client woud make.; The gentleman ,in question, looked harmless enough, in his sixties, somewhat old fashioned but impeccably dressed and extremely courteous. We were in a Rapide and he seated himself just behind me. We had the aircraft to ourselves and after about fifteen minutes he said "That's a nice looking cloud over there. Would you go round it, please ?" So we did and he was making contented little noises to himself. That was to be the pattern during the next part of the flight then he suddenly announced that it was "time for a spot of lunch, don't you think ?"
There was no catering on board so I had to find a civil aerodrome nearby, not an easy task those days. I eventually found Anstey, near Coventry where we landed and had a nice lunch for which he paid, leaving
a tip that was nearly the cost of the meal. When we eventually landed at Yeadon I saw a beautiful old chauffeur driven Daimler driving out over the grass airfield to meet us. It was bottle green with highly polished brass headlights. The Chauffeur, also in bottle green livery, opened the door of the Rapide, helped my passenger into the Daimler then came to me with a silver tray on which were two recently laundered huge white five pound notes. I protested that the payment for the flight was not to be made to me but was told, gravely, in a broad Yorkshire accent "This, Captain, is thy pourboire and my employer wishes to thank thee for a right pleasant journey". I have to admit, shamefully, that I have forgotten his name but not the memory of courteous and graceful living and an age of transport that has gone for ever. Ten pounds was a lot of money and together with the six or seven pounds for the flight was more than the BBC was paying me for a weeks broadcasting.
The DH Rapide, like all De Havilland aeroplanes, not only looked good but flew well also. It was the maid of all work for the Charter Companies.
If I remember rightly it took nine passengers and was used extensively on the Scottish Isles service by BEA as they were then known. The Pilot occupied a single seat in the nose and the passengers sat behind him with no dividing door. A well known character of a Captain, who shall be nameless, used sometimes to sit, whilst the aircraft was still loading, in one of the rear seats dressed in a shabby old raincoat while the handful of passengers boarded. He would sit there, muttering away and looking at his watch . "Where's the Pilot ? If he's not here in two minutes then I'm going to do something about it ! Right. That's it" and would stride up to the nose, start the engines and take off with his paralysed , startled passengers. The same Captain, when the new Viking came in to service would board the plane after the passengers were all aboard, walk up the aisle to the cockpit, ostentatiously carrying a book with "How to Fly in Six Easy Lessons" emblazoned on it's cover in huge letters. During the flight he would come back into the cabin and search around the legs of one of the passengers, usually a pretty girl, saying "Excuse me, but have you seen a loose page anywhere about ? You see it's the landing...."
One of the freelance pilots at Croydon, later to be a colleague on the Berlin Air Lift, made a forced landing just short of the "Runway" that was a very short piece of concrete of some hundred yards length leaving you to finish your landing run on grass. He landed on a football field on the other side of Purley Way scattering the players who ran for their lives. When the Rapide came to a stop he stuck his head out of the side window "Phwats the score then ? he asked amiably. Needless to say he was one of the many Irish pilots freelancing at the time.
My A.T.C. course was due to start and I reluctantly, said goodbye to the B.B.C. It was impossible to break into the very tight circle of permanently engaged staff no matter how hard I tried. For years afterwards small cheques would keep coming in from the B.B.C when some of my news bulletins had been used in a programme of some sorts. It had been a wonderful experience and I met some fascinating people. One of the most interesting was a lady to whom you referred any problem with pronunciation, no matter what language. She would give you the correct pronunciation immediately without referring to any of the thousands of books with which she was surrounded. Mistakes were rare those days although one famous Sports Commentator is reputed to have made a "spoonerism" of the "Royal Hunt Cup" ! The most famous one was a broadcast in 1937 of the Naval Review at Spithead. I was fifteen at the time and was listening to the Commentary. What had happened was the Comentator was an ex naval Lt. Commander "Tommy" Woodroofe and the commentary was to be on the evening Royal Review but, unfortunately the commentary was being made from his old ship H.M.S Nelson and his
former friends had right royally entertained him in the Wardroom prior to the broadcast. The result was "The Fleets lit up. Hundredshes of little ffairy lights ..but theyve all gone out... The fleets ddisapp..gone " In those days there was no producer watching every second . The engineers were the only ones and they let him go on for about four drunken minutes before they had "a technical hitch " . I called my Father to come and listen and we were helpless. Next day the headlines in every Newspaper was "The FLeets Lit Up" and to be "Lit Up" passed in to the language as an euphemism for being drunk. In these days of Jonathan Ross etc. it is hard to imagine how an inebriated announcer could make such an effect but the BBC was sacrosanct. Sir John Reith, the Director General was an absolute martinet. Announcers had to wear "suitable apparel" even though it was Radio. Local accents were unknown and Mr Ross would have been beheaded. The B.B.C. "apologised" for the "unfortunate occurence" saying that The Lt.Cdr. was "tired and emotional". Get a full
version of the whole speech by putting "The fleets lit up get on clip in fall off" on Google ( I think but don't promise !).
Last edited by regle; 1st July 2009 at 22:45.