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When the
Wind Changed by Cliff Goodwin
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Introduction
Tony
Hancock was the first victim of television comedy. He was, arguably,
the first typecast victim of the post-war age. He received such enormous
fame from the character he created he was - both professionally and
personally - doomed. |
In
1956, when Hancock transferred from radio to television, watching
television was still an exciting event. Public houses and cinemas were
half empty because people did not want to miss a particular show. One
of those programmes was Hancock's Half Hour. Men and women
in the street adopted Hancock as their own working-class hero, battered
by life and bamboozled by his friends. |
His
common touch. His ability to be all things to all men. His acceptance
as the bloke next door. You would laugh at his East Cheam cohorts -
Sid James and Bill Kerr and Kenneth Williams - but you could only love
Hancock. And love is not too strong a word. This was a unique television
era which locked in its stars and, in many cases, refused to set them
free. For Hancock his Homburg hat and astrakhan collared coat became
the bars to a prison. |
The
huge fame which Hancock enjoyed - and abhorred - was as short-lived
as his own success. After seven years on radio and television there
was nowhere left for him to go. A form of megalomania took over. Like
Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin, he believed he could stand alone,
that he could do it all himself, professionally forcing himself to go
back to where he started in a deliberate and destructive circle. |
One
of the great sadnesses of Hancock's life was that he could not enjoy
the ups and downs of show business. The name of the game is rejection
for most of us in this profession. So to be accepted, and to be loved,
and give such happiness to people and still repeatedly turn the dagger
on himself was a real tragedy. |
For
me, Hancock's work is still at its greatest when heard rather than seen.
Some of his radio performances are electrifying. |
| I first saw Hancock when he was appearing with Jimmy Edwards in the 1952 production of London Laughs. A few years later, when I was a student at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, we would religiously listen to two radio programmes. One was The Goon Show. The other was Hancock's Half Hour. |
I
then became really crazy about Hancock. If ever I was down or depressed
or rejected - sometimes literally - I needed a Hancock 'fix' to bring
me out of it. I was also friendly with another Hancock nutter. He was
almost always broke and recorded the radio shows to sell. Once a fortnight
a tape of two shows would arrive for which I paid a quid. |
| My family were not immune from Hancock. Each year during the 1960s and early seventies I would take them on holiday to Cornwall. With us would go eight, maybe ten, Half Hour tapes which would be played over and over again. |
| For me, as a young actor, Hancock was one of the great timers. He could instinctively change rhythm in the middle of a line. He also possessed a musical ear which made him one of the best phrasers of lines I had ever heard, but his real genius was his ability to control pauses. He would pause during a radio show, and hold that pause, and not make a sound, and you would still laugh. |
| From the start Hancock set himself such high standards that he handicapped and flagellated himself. On many occasions he could not bear the sight or sound of himself. His drinking was, in many ways, part of this self-flight. Alcohol became both the cause and the fuel of his manic depression. |
| People often say of Hancock that he wasted his talent, that he destroyed himself. But the majority of people, who never drink excessively in their lives, are quite incapable of giving the population such joy and happiness and laughter. The fact he had this conflict between the creative and destructive processes may very well have made him that much funnier. |
| At his peak Tony Hancock was certainly one of the greatest comedians this country has ever produced. |
| Richard
Briers |
Foreword
Tony
Hancock was dead. His remains had been cremated in Sydney and his ashes
entrusted to the comedian and raconteur Willie Rushton to return to
England. |
Rushton
carried the urn through Australian customs unhindered and up the steps
of the British Overseas Airways Boeing 707. Sitting in an economy-class
window seat he placed the casket on the seat beside him. Other passengers
were still boarding. A few minutes later a stewardess informed Rushton
the adjoining seat was required for another passenger. |
Rushton
waved the stewardess closer and quietly explained his predicament. |
‘In
that case,’ she said, picking up the urn, ‘Mr Hancock should
travel first class.’ |
When
the plane landed at Heathrow Airport, Rushton went forward to collect
the urn from the first-class seat on which it had been placed, just
behind the flight deck. Beside the casket was a single red rose and
an anonymous note - ‘Thank you for making us laugh.’ |
|
There were two publications of this particular book. They date from: 1999 to 2000, and are as follows:
This book can be found, but you may have to look harder, it won't just fall into your lap! |
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