THE younger generation — often attacked — can take a bow for a change. In fact, one section — the children who appear in Granada’s Junior Criss Cross Quiz — can take several bows.

They have established a reputation for politeness, good manners and, above all, sportsmanship.

About 500 children have been in the programme since it began more than two years ago. What have the people who work on this noughts and crosses game general knowledge learned?

Pam Marsden, head of the contestants’ department at the Manchester studios, said: “Mainly that children are better at taking disappointment than adults.

“In the grown-up quiz programmes, competitors are keyed up all the time. They will retire winning a fairly large sum of money rather than risk losing it on another question or another game.

“But usually the children, who have a large number of points at stake, representing several prizes, press on to the end. They don’t mind a risk. And they are sporting when they lose.

“That characteristic shows in the early stages of the preliminary test. They are set a paper of 25 general knowledge questions.

“The producer interviews them while the papers are being marked. They are given the verdict straight away. It is amazing how matter-of-fact they are.

“I think they are philosophical because they are used to examinations at school and feel that it is not a matter of life and death; just a game.

“We find many adults who see the programme write and say when they think they have seen a particularly well-mannered child in the show.

“This sort of letter usually comes from older viewers conscious of the behaviour of the younger generation.”

Bill Grundy, quizmaster for five months, spoke of a boy in a programme who had won almost 350 points. This entitled him to a canoe or a stereophonic record player.

Said Grundy: “The lad was playing well and wanted a canoe. He accepted a further challenge, played two drawn games.

“On the third, he lost; not only the points he wanted, but those he had piled up. Instead of the canoe he went home with a book token.

“I sympathised. His reply: ‘Oh, that’s all right, Mr Grundy. It was very enjoyable.’ I was most impressed.

“People think girls are bad losers at games. But this is not true in Junior Criss Cross Quiz. I have yet to see a defeated contestant — boy or girl — be unsportsmanlike.”

Over to programme researcher Yvonne Levy. “The children seem to have a leaning towards certain interests.

“‘Pets,’ ‘Is It True?’ ‘Odd Man Out,’ and ‘Nicknames’ are firm favourites with boys and girls. Girls steer clear of engineering, fearing technical subjects. Boys shy off fairy tales. They are keen on science.

“We like letters from children suggesting new subjects, but they must cover a wide field. Pets, say, include all animals, not just one type.

“The contestants like coming to the studio. They enjoy getting stars’ autographs at tea time as much as being in the programme.

“The children, too, get fan mail after the shows. Other youngsters write to I them, and this produces pen friendships.”

The post 500 good sports appeared first on THIS IS GRANADA from Transdiffusion.

THE Northern magazine programme People and Places little show that features the big names – stars of stage and film as well as top personalities from the worlds of music, art and sport.

The list of people who have appeared in the programme, which comes from Granada’s Manchester studios and is one of the company’s longest-running shows, is peppered with celebrities.

Here are some of the names: Lord Harewood, Henry Sherek, Katherine Dunham, Sheila Buxton, Tessie O’Shea, Dickie Henderson, Alfie Bass, Ted Lunee and Bill Fraser.

It is the sort of programme which presents the people who produce it with a never-ending streams of problems.

A phone call – sometimes just 10 minutes before the programme is due on the air – tells the producer that one of the artists has been held up and cannot get to the studio on time.

That is the kind of situation the presents a challenge to researchers like Jim Coburn, who are continually at the producer’s elbow.

The last time it happened he grabbed a taxi and drove three miles from the studios in the City Centre to the lodgings of comedian Freddie Earle. Freddie was making an omelette when Jim rushed in and said: “You’re on TV.”

Freddy [sic] dropped his fork, climbed into the taxi with Jim, and rushed to the studio as fast as traffic-choked roads would allow. He faced the cameras on an almost empty stomach and without a touch of make-up. There had been no time even for that.

“This sort of thing has happened a number of times,” said Jim. “We have had people rushing through the studio doors even during the 10-second count down to ‘on the air’ – and you can’t get much later than that!”

It happened again when Michael Holliday missed his train. The result was a frantic telephone call to jazz singer-trumpeter Leslie (Jiver) Hutchinson, who was appearing that week in Manchester.

Leslie was asked to jump into a taxi and head for the studios immediately!

Last-minute illnesses, late trains and planes, mechanical breakdowns. These are hazards which face the team that bring People And Places to the screen.

Under the heading of breakdowns comes the story of the luxurious taxi – the last word in comfort – that was sent to Blackpool to bring Dickie Henderson to Manchester for an appearance on the programme.

In Blackpool, the car developed engine trouble. So Dickie had to make the trip in an old-fashioned “boneshaker”.

The story of People And Places is not without its lighter moments, for the programme has always been liberally sprinkled with humour.

Interviewers Bill Grundy and Chris Howland started a gag with ran for weeks. It was the now-famous joke of long series of incidents carefully contrived to prevent Chris Howland singing on the programme.

It began, almost by accident, when Chris was given a singing spot – right at the end of the show. But because times ran out, the singing spot had to be cut. And on each occasion afterwards, something happened to prevent Chris being heard.

Letters began to roll in demanding that Bill should let Chris sing. But the joke went on.

Lord Harewood, who was in the programme to talk about the opening of Harewood House to the public, helped to keep it running. He told Chris: “You be down at Covent Garden at 10 am tomorrow for an audition.”

Later, Gary Miller, who was also in the conspiracy, asked Chris to sing with him in the show, but he said Chris would have to have a straw hat and cane if he wanted to take up the invitation.

Everybody thought that Howland would at last be heard. He dashed away for the vital hat and cane. But when he got back – breathless, and consequently unable to sing – only two bars of the number remained.

Chris continued to “campaign.” In a demonstration in which he was seen accompanied by about two dozen girl supporters, he carried a large board bearing the demand: HOWLAND MUST SING.

And Howland did. Standing beside a fountain in the studio grounds, he sang The Rain Falls On Everybody. It certainly on Chris, for Bill was seen busy at a tap. Chris got drenched.

There have been moments of unintentional humour, too. One of these came when the Spanish guitarist Pepe Martinez had to be coached to answer two questions in his very limited English.

The questions were: How long have you been in England and how long does it take to become a good flamenco dancer?

The answers, in the correct order, were six weeks and 25 years. Pepe gave them the wrong way round!

The People And Places team recall the time, too, when things got really hot, at the end of a demonstration of action painting. Part of the action was to set fire to the painting. The artist did. And because the show was under-running its time limit, the cameraman had to hold the shot as the flames leapt upwards.

A studio fireman stood by with an extinguisher, powerless to act because if he had done he would have put himself between in the line of the camera.

Said producer David Main: “Though we like to be up to the minute with items of interest to our viewers, we do not aim to be quite so hot on the trail as we were on that occasion.”

The post Getting people and places together appeared first on THIS IS GRANADA from Transdiffusion.

When you walked through the door into Granada Television in Cross Street, Manchester you felt the place was special, certainly different from the other media temples I had worked in. The main reception area was dominated by a large compelling painting by Francis Bacon, the canteen illuminated with a challenging mural by John Bratby. In every office hung a portrait of P.J. Barnum [sic], the American circus-owner, as a reminder that we might be journalists, but never forget the razzle-dazzle.

– Michael Parkinson, Parky: My Autobiography, 2008

You will most likely already be familiar with stories of innovation in television, whether through technology, graphics, formats or presentation. Let me describe an early example of a regional news and entertainment programme which not only set a high standard in its field, but provided a template for what was to come later.

Granada TV was a company with drive, determination and flair – always bold whilst cautious (to quote from the coat of arms of Wallasey, within the company’s service area.). Even as the company was being formed, part of their forward-thinking attitude was that staff should not be drawn from the BBC, to prevent “contamination of the new thinking” to quote a Granada executive. Talent search took the company executives to Canada, to bring fresh blood into TV, an area that the parent, Granada Theatres Limited, had no experience in.

Most of the ITV regions put out regional news bulletins varying in length, including Granada’s Northern Newscast, but there were plans in the fifties to develop a new type of early evening news programme. It would complement the ITN news whilst providing contrast, reflecting not only topical news and regional issues, but also covering the arts, sports, and human interest stories. Derek Boulton, public relations officer said that the programme should make people feel that the North “is a good place to be, and we’ve got our own voice”.

The new show, People and Places, ran from 9 July to 20 August 1957 as a networked programme, presented by Peter Jones (comedy actor, chiefly known for In All Directions) and Elaine Grand (who later presented Thames’ Good Afternoon). From contemporary accounts, it’s best described as a miscellany, with sketches, interviews and music usually by the Derek Hilton Quartet. The programme was revived starting from Friday 23 May 1958, but this time only for the North, and presented by Bill Grundy, later joined by Chris Howland. Derek Hilton and his trio provided music (including the theme). Gay Byrne replaced Chris Howland in 1961. People and Places finally came to an end on 18 January 1963.

The Beatles were featured on later editions in 1962 and 1963, and a film shot by Granada at the Cavern in August 1962 didn’t make it onto the programme due to poor sound – but it was broadcast a year later on the show that replaced People and Places.

Launched on 21 January 1963, the Scene at 6.30 presentation and production team included Michael Scott, Michael Apted, Johnnie Hamp, Peter Eckersley, Michael Parkinson, Chris Kelly, Bill Grundy, Leslie Woodhead, Gay Byrne, Barrie Heads, Philip Casson, Brian Trueman and David Plowright: soon to be well-respected media figures not only in the North, but throughout the country and the world. TVTimes trumpeted Scene at 6.30 as “a no-punches-pulled, hard-hitting, bang-up-to-date look at today’s big talking points. And what’s new and original in music?”

Talking of which, the Beatles were not the only group featured – many other artists performed! Lulu, the Searchers, Long John Baldry, Howlin’ Wolf, Bo Diddley, Duke Ellington and hundreds of others went to Manchester to appear, and, in many cases, to chat about their music. In November 1963, the Beatles performed I Want To Hold Your Hand and This Boy on a Daily Echo newspaper set, and had a conversation with Gay Byrne and Ken Dodd – their off-the-cuff humour was so refreshing and infectious that Granada, rather than losing the sequence completely, broadcast it as a one-off Late Scene Extra on 27 November 1963 at 11.45pm. Famous quote: Ken Dodd says that he would need an earthy name to be a pop star, Paul suggests “Rock” or “Cliff”, John suggests “Sod”!

In 1976, George Harrison was interviewed by Granada Reports about his new LP “Thirty-Three and a Third”, and part of that feature was that he was seen sitting at a Steenbeck machine watching the November 1963 film of the Beatles, shaking his head in time with the “whoos”.

Michael Wale’s book Vox Pop includes an interview with former Beatles press officer Derek Taylor. In it, he said had been asked by Peter Eckersley to come and work on Scene at 6.30 after Taylor and Brian Epstein fell out whilst touring with the Beatles in 1964. Taylor, having worked for the Beatles in the US, was much in demand there and set up his own business, representing the Beach Boys and many other bands, and working on the Monterey Pop Festival in 1967, after which he went to work for Apple [the music people, not the computer people], again as Press Officer.

Recalling other guests, Joan Riley remembered a sixteen-year-old Scottish girl who was very loud, rehearsing her song Shout – Lulu – and Vanya Kewley who assisted Desmond Morris with a baby chimpanzee in a demonstration. She held the chimp up to the cameras, and it peed in her face, but she laughed it off. Joan was on the phone in her office, and discovered that there was a young lion sitting next to her – luckily she didn’t scream…

News reporting on Scene at 6.30 was more broad than the cliché of “warehouse fire in Leeds”. While accepting that, as Mike Scott said “the London end [was] dominated, not dominating”, he understood the need for a London studio, so that anyone based there could be interviewed for the programme. This had the advantage of enabling debate on issues affecting the North. David Boulton did recognise a problem within the North: “Considerable efforts were made to take the programme outside Manchester itself…particularly there was quite a lot of political pressure to do items in Liverpool because [the city] always felt left out and always second-rate compared with Manchester”. In years to come, this was a recurring theme, and at one point it threatened Granada’s ability to retain their franchise.

The London-based presenter was Dennis Pitts. By using regular inserts from Pitts in London, Michael Parkinson in Leeds and, of course, the whole team in Manchester, Scene at 6.30 invented an innovative format that would later be used by the BBC in Nationwide.

Since 1956, Granada had always been inclined to challenge the accepted wisdom. Mike Scott stated that a new type of current affairs programme was evolving, whether in programmes such as Under Fire, where MPs had to face blunt questions from the audience, or in covering the February 1958 Rochdale by-election (which Granada had been told would be illegal) to covering political party conferences. News actuality of the Ringway air crash in 1957, to the hurricane in Sheffield in 1962 had set some precedents as regards what should be reported and brought to the public’s attention. This was an approach which was a major part of Scene at 6.30.

Granada received a call on 22 November 1963 from CBS in New York, stating that President John F. Kennedy had been shot in Dallas. It was just five minutes after the beginning of the programme. The senior executive on duty, Denis Foreman, called ITN, who told him that they were “not going to break into the schedules with the story until they had it from [our] own reporter in America”… and there was a standing rule that individual ITV companies should never pre-empt ITN on big stories. Foreman impulsively went ahead, and Mike Scott broke the news to the Scene at 6.30 audience first, before anyone else in the country.

David Boulton was Granada’s Public Relations Officer based in their London office in the early sixties. By his admission, he wasn’t that good: Sidney Bernstein sent for him, told him he was useless, but sent him to Manchester to work on Scene at 6.30. Producer Mike Murphy gruffly greeted him on his first day, and assigned him the task of a three-minute profile of Frank Cousins, completed with the help of a lady who later became Mrs. Boulton. After a short while, David Boulton became the producer, taking over from Mike Murphy. There was a three-minute bulletin produced by the then little-known Bob Greaves, and David decided to put him on Scene at 6.30, where he became a welcome fixture and part of the northern identity of Granada.

Another personality who put his stamp on everything he did was Michael Parkinson. In his autobiography, Michael Parkinson was asked to come and produce the programme by Barrie Heads, who told him that he wanted the programme to be “irreverent, funny and seditious”. Parkinson also mentioned that the Scene at 6.30 ethos was that any of the production staff who could write and present an article could have a go at presenting, and he chose to go on air with Bill Grundy for his very first time in front of the camera. Grundy advised Parkinson to slow down his delivery, and lean forward as if engaging the viewer in conversation: he also said that if anything went wrong, “look pleadingly in my direction”. Grundy also reminded Parkinson, at the end of the show, that he should say thank you to the studio. Less seriously, Michael was also seen with a “From the North Granada” logo drawn on his back, as if it was a tattoo, and extolling the virtues of licorice.

There is a 1965 film from Scene at 6.30 in which he narrates the story of sixteen children living at Ockenden Venture Home for Refugee Children in Wetherby, Yorkshire, with their house parents Mr. and Mrs. Lovell. An emotionally challenging tale of twelve German children and four English orphans who are, to quote Parkinson, “not simply cared for, but grafted into the family”. It isn’t known whether it has been broadcast outside the North, but the film was donated by the charity to the Screen South East archive.

Bill Grundy was regarded as one of the best presenters, but not without his particular problems: he once slipped from the newsreader’s chair whilst reading a story, the worse for wear, although he could not be seen because of the unmanned, locked-off camera. He was an important part of the presentation team, and really came into his own during trades union congress and election broadcasts, with a direct and forensic questioning style.

A further development was the establishment of Granada In The North, a kind of news bulletin and preview of the evening’s entertainment fronted by one of the Scene at 6.30 team. It was a way of establishing the station identity from the moment viewing began, and acted as a promotional vehicle to keep the viewers tuned in throughout the night. The sequence even had its own ident. It lasted from 1964-1968.

Changes were being made to refresh the format of Scene at 6.30 to maintain its pace and vitality. A major reinvention came in July 1966 when the programme became a late-night feature called Newscene (an amalgam of “news” and “scene” coined by Brian Blake). Johnnie Hamp wanted to make it more controversial than Scene at 6.30. One of the new elements was that a studio audience of youngsters would engage in debate with the musical guests on issues of the day. (With the benefit of hindsight, the idea was very similar to BBC-1’s A Whole Scene Going – a rare example of Granada following a trend rather than leading.)

Courtesy of elenarendezvous

As regards archive status, the only complete edition that survives is the Scene Special shown at 10.25pm on 7 March 1967 in the North only. Entitled “It’s So Far Out, It’s Straight Down”, it focussed on the burgeoning London underground movement and psychedelic music scene. Paul McCartney was interviewed and so were leading underground figures connected to the International Times and Indica Bookshop, such as Barry Miles; a Legalise Pot rally in Piccadilly with John “Hoppy” Hopkins and Suzy Creamcheese; Pink Floyd performing at the UFO Club; and footage of the International Poetry Incarnation, which took place at the Royal Albert Hall on 11 June 1965 featuring Allen Ginsberg, Adrian Mitchell and Laurence Ferlinghetti amongst others (this became a film in its own right – Wholly Communion). It would be correct to state that Scene Special produced such a balanced and definitive picture of that time. As a snapshot of the counterculture, it’s an invaluable time capsule, and excerpts have been included in many programmes including Tony Palmer’s All You Need Is Love in 1977.

Scene made its way back into an early-evening slot in June 1967, and Late Scene was a late-night feature as before (this writer recalls that Sgt. Pepper (Reprise) was used as a closing theme at least once during the summer of that year). Change was coming though…

The franchise awards on 11 June 1967 allowed new contractors into the system: London Weekend TV, Harlech, Thames (itself a new company formed by ABC and Rediffusion jointly) and Yorkshire. The last of these was a challenge to Granada: their
franchise was now a seven-day contract, broadcasting to the North-West (“West Of The Pennines” according to the TVTimes) only. Granadaland, the proud concept driving the company’s approach, looked forlorn and defeated. However, the company was down but not out – a rethink was needed to redefine their region, and to serve the viewers with the same devotion and fervour as before.

Scene continued into 1968, with the same features and news coverage as before. According to one account, Mr. Sunshine by Barclay James Harvest was featured in a short documentary shown as part of the programme – this was the B-side of the single Early Morning which came out in April, the same month that Scene was finally laid to rest.

The replacement was Six-O-One, mostly fronted by Bob Greaves, as were the successors Newsday and Newsview – yet again, there was music, sport, news, human interest but not as vital as before. Yet, the assemblage that was essentially Scene at 6.30 was taken apart to form several strands – three examples being Put It In Writing, On Site (featuring Ray Gosling) and It’s Trueman (Brian Trueman in search of miscellany) – all of which quickly registered with the viewers. The fact was that there was so much talent in Scene that it was sometimes difficult to contain it.

There was a feeling that Granada were still trying to recapture the glory days of Scene at 6.30 in the early seventies, featuring specially shot features (I remember seeing the Flirtations perform Give Me Love on a clip shown on Newsday or Newsview in 1971). Eventually the format became one of the longest-running magazine and news programmes, Granada Reports which started on 1 October 1973.

Scene at 6.30 set a high standard in the sixties, and the team who worked on it became well-known to the viewers, and eventually a wider audience.

Michael Apted became a film producer in Hollywood, and is still highly regarded for the Up series of documentaries; Brian Trueman not only was an actor (he was in BBC radio’s The Clitheroe Kid) but wrote many children’s programmes such as Cockleshell Bay and many books; Michael Parkinson, after a time at LWT, established himself as THE chat-show host; Chris Kelly presented Junior Criss-Cross Quiz, Clapperboard and Food and Drink for the BBC; Gay Byrne went back to Ireland and RTÉ to present the long-running The Late Late Show.

Johnnie Hamp went on producing music and entertainment programmes, notably The Comedians and The Wheeltappers And Shunters Social Club, and left Granada in 1987 to form his own production company. He is now retired.

In terms of drama, Philip Casson produced or was involved in many productions from EastEnders to The Man in Room 17. Peter Eckersley was involved in production, then became Head Of Drama, commissioning Victoria Wood to write a play for Granada.

Leslie Woodhead became involved with World in Action, and is still working at 83, as a director/producer on documentaries and Hollywood films.

Bill Grundy continued in presentation and journalism of all shades, such as Afternoon Edition, A House For The Future and Thames TV’s Today – he is remembered more for the December 1976 encounter with the Sex Pistols, which led to his sacking, and a low-key career in the media until his early death in 1993.

David Plowright was Controller of Programmes 1969-1979, and then managing director and later chairman of Granada TV from 1987. Always a staunch supporter of Granada’s programming, quality and integrity, in 1992 he came up against the new Chairman of the Granada Group, Gerry Robinson who forced him out. He passed away in 2006.

In 1979, Plowright was succeeded as Programme Controller by Michael Scott. His career took him from presenting Cinema, The Nuts and Bolts of the Economy and many discussion programmes. In 1987 he returned to presenting with The Time The Place, and was warm, witty and incisive as ever. A character with many fine talents, he passed away in 2006.

Granada in the nineteen-sixties was an exciting place to be for those working there, but the face of the television channel to its public was friendly, warm, informative and Northern… all qualities that apply to every programme, but especially to Scene at 6.30.

The post Seen at 6.30 appeared first on THIS IS GRANADA from Transdiffusion.

From the early rumblings that a general election could be imminent to the climax of all the gee-whizzery of 21st century computer graphics, (although we’re not as ‘gee-whizzed’ as we once were), the screen on the wall or on the TV unit – and now our many mobile devices – bombards us ad nauseum with the twists and turns, the scandals and the stories and the general hullabaloo of the event. Each general election attracts even more coverage, reporters scrambling over each other, shouting, “What have you got to say about ‘X’ (add your own question), Prime Minister?” But it was not always like this. To the viewer of 1958, that was alien country.

Let me take you back, Tardis-like, to that year. Coordinates set, we materialise into a dull, wet Lancashire evening in the mill town of Rochdale in the north west of England. It’s Wednesday, 12 February and the last few voters turn up at the polling stations at the by-election for the parliamentary seat of Rochdale that has unexpectedly been made vacant following the death of Lt.-Col Wentworth Schofield, the last Conservative MP to date that Rochdale has ever had.

The election officials check their watches to the second and doors are firmly slammed shut and locked at 10.00pm precisely and the polling staff begin their journey to the count with their battered black metal ballot boxes secured with padlocks, white cotton tape and red sealing wax to protect their valuable contents. The count is taking place at the grim, Gothic-revival styled (and now Grade I Listed) Town Hall, built in 1886 and blackened by years of smoke from factories, cotton mills and coal-fired house-chimneys, although 2023, years ahead, will see it sitting on a pleasant esplanade after much renovation, a clean-up, tour guides and (naturally) virtual tours bookable ‘online’ – a phrase yet to be coined.

Rochdale’s claim to fame is that it’s the birthplace of Gracie Fields, the actress, singer and ENSA entertainer. She was born over her grandmother’s fish and chip shop in Molesworth Street, although by now she had already made her home on the island of Capri, no longer a British citizen having given that up for love when she married Italian director Monty Banks. The town is also where the modern Co-operative Movement was born in 1844 – originally the Rochdale Equitable Pioneers Society – (thank them for your ‘divi’). The Society was to be a worldwide concept and became the largest consumer in the world known now as the ‘Co-operative Group’.

Additionally, the parliamentary constituency of Rochdale was later held for two decades by the larger than life but posthumously-disgraced Liberal, Cyril Smith, but that is a whole separate story and one that is unconnected to to this piece.

But a further claim to fame and one to which this piece is dedicated (although one that is now perhaps forgotten by most except the most hardy psephologists and TV historians) is that it made history by becoming the first town in Britain whose by-election was formally covered by television. The company that arguably forged the way for all election coverage that followed was Granada TV Network, the contractor appointed by the Independent Television Authority for weekdays in the north of England.

Granada was barely 20 months old but already its roots in flagship journalism and current affairs that culminated in the birth of World in Action in 1963 were being firmly established as a benchmark in television reportage. It was under this mindset that the decision was made by Granada executives in mid-January to cover the by-election. There was no time to lose.

To its credit, the BBC had covered general election results in the early 1950s (‘50, ‘51 and ‘55) with continually improved presentation and graphics (often painted on boards by white-coated artists whose skills and pace must have been tested considerably). The BBC’s coverage, nevertheless, was not so much the path towards the elections, but more the aftermath and results after polling station doors were locked.

Associated-Rediffusion and Associated TeleVision, the first ITV contractors in London on weekdays and weekends, weren’t on air until September 1955, so missed the May 1955 general election by four months. Granada Television followed with its opening night on 3 May 1956. The next general election was October 1959, so ‘Rochdale’ in February 1958 was an unexpected gift to Granada, albeit one that arose from the demise of a sitting MP.

But how to achieve this in such a short time? How would television affect the poll, the turnout, the reaction of the candidates? It must surely be fair to all, but the regulations surrounding covering an election process by television, whilst already in place, the ink was barely dry. The Television Act of 1954 however demanded that any news given in ‘programmes (in whatever form) [are] presented with due accuracy and impartiality and that… due impartiality is preserved on the part of the persons providing the programmes as respects matters of political or industrial controversy or relating to current public policy’.

On 22 January talks were instigated by Granada with local party agents and provisional plans were drawn up. It was decided that there would be five broadcasts covering the lead-up to election day and of the count itself at the Town Hall and of course, the declaration of the result.

Two weeks before polling day therefore, the first programme – 30 minutes in length – would be aired, with all three candidates – Jack McCann (Labour), John E Parkinson (Conservative) and Ludovic Kennedy (Liberal, and also one of the original ITN newscasters), being ‘grilled’ by a chairman in the shape of Irish-born journalist Brian Inglis of The Spectator and later Granada’s All Our Yesterdays and What the Papers Say. The first programme would also include film inserts about Rochdale and various elector-in-the-street ‘vox pops’.

Programme number two was planned to air one week before polling day – again for half an hour and this was to be a public meeting with the candidates. A fifteen-minute programme would be broadcast just two days before polling day which would be a press conference with the chance for local newspapermen to ask questions and the national press would be catered for in a fourth programme. The fifth and final airing would cover the count and subsequent declaration at the Town Hall.

There followed a great interest in Granada’s Rochdale plans, even though the ITA had yet to add its blessing to the venture, however unlikely it would interfere, other than to tweak and consolidate the contractor’s intended coverage. The News Chronicle, since absorbed into the Daily Mail, having picked up the story, heralded the headline ‘Rochdale may be the first TV election’, even though the programmes would be unlikely to be seen by viewers outside of Granada’s area. The BBC seemed neither bothered or impressed and said it ‘did not intend to depart from our usual practice in by-elections that we do not influence voters nor report the campaigns in news bulletins’. However, research shows that the BBC did in fact interview many voters, although full scale coverage it was not. It is likely that they had second thoughts when Granada’s intentions were made public.

So with the local political parties in general agreement, the ITA when told of the plans felt that the arrangements were in line with ITA policy and Sir Robert Fraser, Australian-born Director General of the Authority since it was created four years previously, said the ITA would support Granada in its plans and that ‘Rochdale’ might be ‘useful as a pilot for bigger things’. Upon agreement, the ITA informed the Government Whip’s Office of Granada’s intentions.

So far, so good – but almost immediately the question of the allocation of time to each party candidate came up, with the Conservative and Labour party agents maintaining that, as they were the major parties, they should have a greater share of screen time. Granada executives however, told them that for the 15-minute programmes with the local and national press present, there would be no rigid checks on time but the chairman would ensure that the time was equally divided. The share of time for the half-hour shows though, was to be discussed with the ITA. The Conservative and Labour agents accepted the proposals but the Liberal agent, understandably, was not as happy. However, a 2:2:1 ratio in the half hour programmes was eventually agreed.

By 24 January, it was starting to sink in with party heads in London that Granada’s operations were now actively in hand – and there began some heated exchanges between them and the Granada executives. Morgan Phillips, Labour Party General Secretary, was less than happy that Granada hadn’t consulted party HQ in London first, rather than just the local party offices in Rochdale. It was Granada’s view that local associations should have been left to consult their own head offices for any advice or instructions, and was no business of theirs. Phillips, somewhat contrarily, asked Granada whether they had ‘studied the legal aspects’ of election law in programmes to which the reply was that the ITA saw no legal barriers whatsoever in the plans.

On Monday 27 January the first programme was to go ahead but at the eleventh hour, the local Conservative Association in Rochdale pulled out as it was unable to get the final green flag from London, even though the local Labour and Liberal parties and their London HQs were in agreement with Granada’s plans. Programme One was postponed.

The next day, there followed much to-ing and fro-ing. The political correspondent of The Times had cast doubts on Granada’s impartiality – citing Granada founder Sidney Bernstein’s Labour Party membership and Granada’s left-wing leanings as good enough evidence of bias in favour of Labour. ‘Election Television in Doubt’ ran its headline. The Conservative and Labour parties were still cautious and were taking legal advice, being anxious not to contravene the 1949 Representation of the People Act and the Television Act of 1954. Having been originally suspicious, the Liberal Party under Jo Grimond embraced the whole Granada project, although they preferred equal time for all. Further, the ITA, having supported Granada’s plans, felt there was no danger of any infringement of the 1949 Act and was frankly puzzled by any suggestion that there would have been. It rightly believed that the programmes were not designed to promote any one candidate – expressly forbidden by the Act – but that the programmes would consist of fair and balanced treatment for all three candidates.

Two days later on 28 January, Granada was advised by Sir Robert Frazer that, finally, all three candidates were happy to go ahead although the Macmillan Conservative government was still in consultation with the Law Officers to ensure the Representation of the People Act would not be in any way infringed.

The newspapers by now were naturally on the case, and we have already seen that The Times wasn’t fully keen on the ‘television election’. The Telegraph indicated that Granada was being permitted to pick and choose as to what by-elections it wanted to cover. The Daily Mirror in its editorial shouted, ‘Set TV Free and Let the People See’. It said the government had been thrown into a state of ‘ludicrous dither by ITV’s bright idea’. The Express noted that Conservative Central Office had sent one of its ‘TV experts’ to groom its candidate Mr Parkinson ‘for possible stardom’. You have to wonder I suppose what her advice was… maybe, (and here I muse), no dandruff on the collar? check one’s trouser buttons always? Or, (dare I suggest), never answer a question with an answer? The Express’s George Gale further said in a ‘gay, knock-about piece’ (as my 1961 source calls it), quoting the Conservative candidate Joe Parkinson that ‘all along’ he had ‘wanted to go on with this television’ [the first programme] but was ‘stopped by a ruling from London’. The Manchester Guardian supported Granada fully: ‘Granada has put forward an excellent plan for broadcasting the Rochdale by-election… There is no unfairness in it, no bias and no risk of corruption’.

Everybody had their say. Lord Hailsham, Chairman of the Conservative Party, said the issue was of great importance and that it should be confronted by all parties at national level, the BBC and ITA. The dithering over the allotted time also continued and eventually, the 2:2:1 ratio was abandoned in favour of equal time for all. The Liberals naturally supported the decision, the Labour Party seemed happy, the Conservatives non-committal.

Whilst it was agreed by the Law Officers that there would be no contravention of the Representation of the People Act, the Television Act of 1954 posed something of a problem. It permitted ‘Party Political Broadcasts’, shared out meticulously between the parties and ‘properly balanced debates and discussions’ but there was no freedom for such pieces as interviews with voters as they could not be counted as ‘properly balanced debates’ – and Granada’s plans already were to go out on the streets of Rochdale for voters’ opinions. Similarly, a press conference where only members of the press could ask questions did not fall under the remit of the Act.

More followed, and after adjustments to the planned programmes (that were in reality quite minor), and revised plans were sent to the three parties, it finally looked as the show was on the road. A week before polling day, even though the date of the first programme still hadn’t been fixed, the Granada entourage trundled its way to Rochdale.

On Sunday 2 February, technicians descended on the Town Hall, the Gothic building from which all the programmes would be broadcast. This was going to be an OB like no other for Granada. The council chamber itself was transformed into what was effectively a TV studio. The lights were hauled up, the cables, cameras and monitors were set up and the staff kitchen became a running buffet. But not only Granada personnel were present. This had attracted reporters and television men and women from all corners of the United kingdom, from France, Sweden – and even a film crew from CBS in America – arrived to film parts of the programmes that Granada was to air.

The production team went ahead with some filming after it met at Rochdale’s Wellington Hotel for lunch. There was a producer and director from Manchester, another producer, interviewer and and assistants had flown in from London and the camera crew for the filmed vox pops, were mainly from Independent Television News who drove across from Snowdonia after their last assignment. Lunch over, the team headed out into the cold Rochdale air, filming the back streets, yet to be depicted in ‘Florizel Street’ and also the shopping centre and post-war housing estates. The fire brigade agreed to provide a 120-foot turntable ladder to get pictures of the Town Hall and even the traffic stopped.

The sound camera for street interviews was set up and Manchester-born Bill Grundy, (later of Thames Television’s Today but well known to Granada viewers from People and Places, Scene at 6.30, Northern Newscast, and Granada in The North) ventured out along with Canadian broadcaster Elaine Grand, now with Granada but who remained an occasional contributor to CBC of her birth country. As with Grundy, Grand also became the presenter of a Thames show Afternoon Plus and was a trailblazer for women and daytime television in the UK.

A diverse cross-section of Rochdale’s residents were caught on the camera. From the mill workers to retired elderly ladies out for shopping, the bus conductor to the travelling salesman – all were interviewed. Some, like the old man, just ‘didn’t want to know’ and Bill would no doubt have been given short shrift from some of the more gritty, Rochdalian die-hards. Miss Grand, in her fur coat and with her Canadian lilt probably fared much better with the gentlemen…

The vox pop packages complete, the film was rushed off for processing.

All seemed ‘good to go’ – but then yet another spanner was thrown into the works before the Wednesday Programme One could be aired. This time, it was from the Liberal camp. Candidate Ludovic Kennedy felt that he had been given Granada’s revised plans ‘rather too late’ to fit into his campaign schedule. After discussions and probably some persuasion, Kennedy was 95% certain he would be available for the Wednesday show at least, but he wanted discussions with the other two candidates about the remaining programmes.

On the Tuesday (4 February) the candidates all met, together with their agents, to discuss the (now revised) planned schedule of programmes. After the meeting, the News Chronicle secured an interview with the parties and reported that Mr Parkinson the Conservative candidate was ‘prepared to do the lot’ – but said that the meeting was instigated by the Liberals. The Labour candidate Mr McCann was not happy about the proposed press conference with local newspaper men as he said that no-one had defined what the local press would be. Kennedy only wanted fairness to candidates and the electorate, but was reported as saying that TV was ‘extraneous to the election’.

In the end the candidates agreed that they would appear on the Wednesday show the following day. They then agreed to appear on the press conference based programme on the following Tuesday and following the close of the poll, they would support the televising of the count. The plans for five shows was whittled down to these three but Granada executives could do no more – if even one candidate pulled out of their plans, there could be no show at all.

Preparations continued at the Town Hall on 4 February in preparation for the first programme. Equipment was fired up in readiness to put Rochdale in contact with Manchester’s control studio and with the Winter Hill and Emley Moor ITA transmitters in Lancashire and Yorkshire respectively. With the benefit of hindsight, this was to become one of Granada’s finest moments. In fact, at an address to the Manchester University Liberal Society, the Joint Treasurer of the Liberal Party, Philip Fothergill, told delegates, ‘It [the TV election coverage] will do freedom-loving eggheads no harm to give credit where credit is due. In this case, we raise a cheer for Independent Television’.

All was set. After doubts from Labour party officials, Tory misgivings and dithering by the Liberal candidate, agreement finally ensued with the first programme less than 24 hours away. It’s hard to imagine in the 21st century media world the wranglings that took place in 1958 but new ground is never broken easily.

Granada employed a crew of thirty and there were six vehicles all parked up outside the Town Hall, cables draping through windows, snaking across the floors to the heavy, turret cameras on tripods and wheeled bogies. Booms and lights were set up and boards mounted on easels were readied for front and end-cap graphics and idents. On the night, the three candidates and their agents and producers made use of the Wellington Hotel (which by now must have been making a bob or two) for an early meal to discuss the shape of the programme but by 6.30, it was off to the Town Hall to face the cameras at seven sharp.

Brian Inglis, the ‘anchor man’ sat at a wooden table procured from the council chamber itself – the type that even now can be seen in some less progressive Town Halls. His notes and scribbles were laid out in front of him and the scene must have looked almost like a headmaster speaking to three boys who’d been called up before ‘the beak’ in true ‘Bunter’ style. A monitor was positioned to his left, out of shot and a microphone boom was above him and ready to swing round from Inglis to the three men who were sat opposite, ready for interrogation. Ashtrays on pedestals were positioned in front of the men, should any other them feel the need to smoke cigarettes. A camera behind Inglis pointed above his head at the candidates, its turret lenses ready to be switched to close ups or general views of the three contenders. Two more cameras were positioned back towards the oak-panelled walls and to the right of the candidates, one precariously on a tressle table and behind the cameras but looking on, were guest journalists, party chiefs, being told ‘please don’t talk’. This was an incredible stage, part Gothic, part evolutionary but one thing was absolutely certain. The politicians were taking to this likes ducks to water and the future was being sculpted right there in that dark, dank night in Rochdale.

A short test of sound and cameras was undertaken and with the party chiefs’ stop watches at the ready to ensure their ‘man’ was treated equally as promised. Indeed Brian Inglis said ‘We know that during the next half hour we shall be setting a precedent of importance. We shall do our utmost to give a fair, impartial and useful report’. Mr Inglis produced a paper bag to draw lots to determine the order of speaking and told the gentlemen, ‘Don’t look when you are doing so… Who’s number one?’

Programme One finally went on air. Probably only then did the candidates fully realise that whatever they said, whatever their answers to Inglis’s interrogations, could make or break their chances of success at the following week’s election. The electors of Rochdale, courtesy of their regional commercial television contractor could be swayed, or not, by what these three men uttered as they sat at home, in the working mens’ clubs or the smoke rooms of The Eagle, The Prince Albert or The Bull’s Head on the Oldham Road.

And before you could say, ‘put wood in th’ hole’, the just-less-than-30 minute show was over.

Ludovic Kennedy, the ‘professional’ of the three men seemed the least enthusiastic. It is possible that he felt his experience might have disadvantaged his two opponents. Conservative candidate John Parkinson said he loved every minute of it and called it ‘a tremendous experience’, although he admitted to some nerves waiting for the show to go on air. He also said that the hand-signalling showing he had fifteen seconds to go of his allotted time was his main problem, being aware neither to ‘over shoot’ or waste a few valuable seconds. Jack McCann also enjoyed the TV experience but earnestly hoped that the personal touch would never be lost in politics.

But what of the people of Rochdale? What was their verdict? It was reported that they thought the candidates – particularly their favourite ‘came across well’. They generally did not however, approve of the filmed inserts of street interviews, pre-introduced by the more ‘seamier’ scenes of ‘ginnels’ and back-to-backs, with references to clogs, shawls and cobbles which did not go down too well with some viewers. It is said that one elderly gent, in a bar containing half of Fleet Street and Granada people after the show, gathered people around him to give his views. Clutching his pint, he seethed, ‘not cobbles, SETTS!’

The next day, February 6th, the papers were full of it. ‘Millions see TV make poll history’ ran the Mirror. ‘Candidates on television – Rochdale sets precedent’ said The Times. ‘Rochdale politics takes to TV’ read the Manchester Guardian, but its TV critic reported on page 2 that ‘Granada’s precedent proves cold politics’. The Daily Herald sighed, ‘TV election was oh, so dull!’ but then it added, – ‘till Jack [McCann] came’, referring to the Labour candidate.

The candidates themselves aired their own views of Programme One in a Mirror piece: ‘In a programme like this, everyone starts off equally’ said Ludovic Kennedy. Jack McCann said he was ‘frightened to death at the start, but afterwards, I was so busy thinking what to say, I did not worry’. John Parkinson less dramatically said, ‘Once I got going, I forgot the cameras.’

The Mirror talked also to the Rochdale people: ‘The best thing is that you can listen to what a man has to say without his speech being drowned by hecklers’; ‘It’s just the sort of thing that makes people who don’t normally bother about politics really think’. A man named Walter Jackson said, ‘My mind is made up and no television programme of any kind could alter my views’. The News Chronicle, in a piece penned by David Willis who spoke to a Rochdale woman, reported that she said in true Lancashire style, ‘Well, it’s a lot better than opening the door on a dark night and talking to a shadow’.

Other newspaper reports generally praised Granada – ‘It [Programme One] was a privilege no other area of the land has yet enjoyed’… ‘Political history flashed on to a million northern TV screens tonight’. Roland Hurman, under the dateline, ‘The Fireside Front, Rochdale, Wednesday’ said that McCann ‘appeared in control’… of Parkinson, that he ‘looked as if he was enjoying it.’ and of Kennedy, ‘Newscasting is a very different proposition from being under fire, but Kennedy showed that he is learning his political craft fast’. The Daily Sketch wondered whether ‘this is a monster which should be put back in the bottle’. And George Gale for the Express who was in a pub during the broadcast quoted one old Rochdalian, contemplating the arguments about the H-Bomb, who said, ‘Well, you must have a detergent, even if we don’t use it!’

By Sunday 9 February plans for Programme Two on the eve of the poll went ahead and the press was still reporting the Programme One broadcast with differing views. Under the headline ‘What is Duller than Politics?’, Maurice Wiggin of the Sunday Times said that the ‘first by-election broadcast… was a feeble anti-climax’. He went on to say that it might have had some local interest to northerners but that southerners should ‘not feel deprived’. The Observer’s Maurice Richardson however said it made ‘lively television’ and that all candidates are advised to brush up on their television techniques or the electorate may vote with their bedroom slippers. For the Sunday Pictorial, curmudgeon Malcolm Muggeridge called television ‘A soapbox with knobs on’. But somewhat prophetically added that he foresaw the hustings in future invading the screen in a very big way, ending with, ‘In the end, who knows? Parliament itself may be televised’.

The Neilsen Television Index (pre-JICTAR and BARB) published that after the first programme, 42% of the possible audience (i.e. homes with two channels) watched the first fifteen minutes of the programme with 40% remaining to watch the second fifteen minutes. To summarise the findings, it said that the number of homes which actually tuned in to the show was about 680,000. Most did not switch off or were bored enough to ‘switch over’ to Tonight on BBC Television. It also reported that percentage-wise, the show was quite successful in that its ratings were higher than for Under Fire, Youth Wants to Know and What The Papers Say.

By Tuesday 11 February preparation was in hand for the Programme Two eve-of-poll programme and for the second time, the paraphernalia of television was rolled out within the venerable oak-panelled room of the council chamber at the Town Hall. This was to be the press conference-designed show and whilst there seemed to be a marked lack of enthusiasm by some of the newspapermen, Norman Shrapnel writing afterwards, felt that ‘The prospect of three orthodox would-be politicians – right, left and centre – having stock cross-bench questions shot at them by three newspapermen – left, centre and right – was not easily going to fire our hearts or stir our political consciences’. He followed up however by saying that in fact, the ‘biggest eve-of-poll meeting ever held’ turned out to be quite exciting television and it was not only the candidates who thought so.

The three lucky press men were Gerald Fay from the Manchester Guardian, Frank Machin of the Daily Herald and Roland Hurman of the Daily Mail. Before the show went on air, all were jokey as cigarettes were smoked by the three candidates and there was a fear that this might be turning into an ‘old pals act’ after all the legal wrangling of the last week or so but nothing was further than the truth. Programme Two was indeed going to be very different from the first show, with Brian Inglis at times almost having to call order. (‘I’m here to see fair play’).

Waiting for the deadline to air, Mr McCann smoothed his hair, taking a moment out from scribbling notes. Mr Kennedy, used to an on-air presence from his ITN experience, was unruffled by the make up girl dabbing his cheeks and brow. Norman Shrapnel, reporting on the events said McCann was ‘technically fascinated’ and Mr Parkinson seemed ‘coy’. A short rehearsal to check everything was in place and one impatient American press man with others behind the cameras shouted, ‘When does the shooting start?’

The show got under way and the ‘old pals act’ suddenly ceased under the watchful eye of Inglis. One wonders now could anyone of the time been a better referee. But Inglis was a professional and whilst he had no red or yellow cards in his shirt pocket, calm demeanour and professionalism were his craft.

Hotly debated were subjects such as the abolition of the death penalty and whether it really did act as a deterrent for murder. The Rent Act and the cotton industry – all important issues of the time – came under scrutiny and at times, there was furious sparring amongst the candidates and extracts from ‘the tape recording’ clearly show this:

Parkinson: ‘As far as insanity is proved, well that is a different matter entirely. But I want to see the death penalty revert back to its previous system. I want to divorce this from a political issue’.
McCann: ‘Oh no’.
Parkinson: ‘Of course I want to divorce this from a political issue. It’s a conscience matter’.

[There followed more argument – and no-one could hear what was said]

Kennedy [to Parkinson]: There’s one question I want to ask you. What evidence have you got that the death penalty is a deterrent more than imprisonment?’
Parkinson: ‘Well, of course, look at the increases in the…’
Kennedy: ‘What evidence have you got?’
Parkinson: ‘Well, you have seen…’
Kennedy: ‘What evidence have you got?’

The onlooking journalists behind the cameras were relishing the heated exchanges, even though at times there was so much snarling that the essence of the debate was quite lost in the general fury. Inglis, professional as he was, had both hands full in controlling the situation, decided to move things along with, ‘Let’s switch to another subject’.

But as the curtain came down on Programme Two and the cameras and lighting were switched off, as in many television debates since, the three protagonists became jolly good chaps again and all agreed that it was en enjoyable experience. Ludovic Kennedy, after having reservations following Programme One said that it [Programme Two] was ‘much more exciting’. No one had quite walked off the ‘set’ and all had got very hot under their proverbial collars but at the end of the day, to both the producer’s terror and joy, it was damned good television and for statisticians reading this, it was calculated that Mr McCann ‘won’ by eight seconds.

The dawn broke on Polling Day Thursday 13 February with the wind blowing across the Pennines and a temperature of 6°C. There was even a touch of thunder according to one historical weather source. Cold it might have been but the temperature was rising for both candidates and Granada Television as the doors of polling stations opened in the church halls, schools and clubs of Milnrow, Wardle, Heywood, Middleton and of course within the town itself and elsewhere across the constituency.

It was to be the television franchisee’s big day – or rather, night – as the coverage could only cover the counting of the votes and could do nothing that might jeopardise the secrecy of the vote or even report on ‘how the day was going’ with respect to turnout. It was made absolutely clear that no camera must show a picture of any ballot paper and that the secrecy of the vote must be preserved at all times. All thirty Granada crews members had to be “sworn in” before the Town Clerk – a formality that is no longer undertaken – these days, you are merely given the ‘thou shalt not’ requirements on paper and informed of the penalties for contravention of the secrecy regulations.

Cameras were positioned outside as well as in the Town Hall for the ballot paper count, with cameras and equipment to one side of the hall, away from anything but general shots of the counting process. There were smaller areas where interviews could to take place of the candidates, their wives and party delegates, and as the ballot boxes were returned to the Town Hall, the atmosphere grew tense as Programme Three, the final show, went on the air.

The election officials, the counters with banker’s ‘thumbs’, the party workers who patrol the desks where the mounds of ballot papers lay (‘that one’s in the wrong pile!’) all added to the drama of the occasion, although the real players where the candidates and their wives, ready to be encouraged before the cameras to answer to the inevitable questions. Mr McCann seemed confident as his row of counted ballots grew, and yet so did Mr Parkinson, even though his fortunes seemed to be less sizeable and Mr Kennedy looked slightly worried and yet his own personal success in the election could not be understated. The wives were brought before the cameras for interview during the count – notably Moira Shearer, who married Kennedy in 1950. She was the famed Scottish ballet dancer, actress and film star (The Red Shoes, The Tales of Hoffman, and, even later in the 70s, the BBC’s chosen presenter of the Eurovision Song Contest when it was staged in Edinburgh in 1972).

The theatre of the occasion was enhanced by an almost comical episode when the Mayor of Rochdale, as Returning Officer, appeared to be ready to announce the result announce the result at a surprising early stage in the proceedings. Rising to his feet and clearing his throat, it looked as though the announcement was imminent – then he sank back into his chair after officials hurriedly whispered that it was a false alarm.

When the result finally came, the Mayor ‘in the flattest voice’ read out the losers and winner in alphabetical order as they would have appeared on the ballot paper, so Kennedy the Liberal’s votes came first (17,603) – amid loud cheers. If Hughie Green’s clapometer had been invented then, Mr Kennedy would have been back next week. But Mr McCann’s majority was clear at 4,530 votes (22,133) and Mr Parkinson’s smile, always there throughout the campaign, suddenly disappeared as the split vote caused by Kennedy dashed his hopes of following in Wentworth Schofield’s footsteps at Westminster. He polled 9,872 votes and his downfall, it would appear, was telling the cotton traders what he thought of them (which was not much). He was greeted with boos as he stood on that balcony with his two protagonists, one who now was about the lead the constituency for Labour in Westminster.

The speeches from the balcony over, where once Miss Gracie Fields’ voice had echoed over the cobbles – or setts – of the square below, the Granada team had already started rolling in the cables, dismantling the cameras and all the other paraphernalia that goes with a television outside broadcast. Brian Inglis spoke to the viewers at home in his signing-off with, “That’s all from Rochdale. McCann goes to Westminster and we go home to bed.”

The hubbub died away, the night was suddenly calm again as reporters, columnists, observers, journalists and foreign camera units faded into the cold, Rochdale night air.

The TV critic at the Manchester Guardian praised the Granada initiative in following this by-election, although he recognised that some of the early stages of the on-screen election had been arguably ‘lifeless’ but added that ‘the excitement at the end was undeniable’. He went on, ‘Television is superb when it shows a thing actually happening: the Mayor in his chain of office reading out the … official declaration: the candidate’s kiss for his wife, the smile of the victor…’ The Daily Mail considered the reason for Mr Kennedy’s ‘spectacular’ success as runner up and answered simply “Television, which was allowed to report the by-election for the first time, may have played a decisive role.” Kenneth Allsop, who reported for Tonight and presented 24 Hours in the 1960s, reported for the Mail that ‘…the televoter is born… television is established as the new hub of the hustings.’ The Manchester Evening News said that viewers had a perfect ringside seat at the climax of the Rochdale election” and that “…Granada deserved praise for their pioneering work”.

The candidates themselves gave their own verdicts on the ‘TV Election’: Jack McCann believed that the high poll (80%) was in some way due to the fact that interest had been stimulated by TV and that ‘political parties cannot afford to ignore it.’ John Parkinson felt that there had been enormous interest created by the Granada’s coverage and that had been proved by the high poll. ‘It gives every candidate every chance to get his policy into the maximum number of homes and to the maximum number of voters.’ He was doubtful nonetheless as to whether it [television] influenced people to vote one way or another. Ludovic Kennedy was ‘fundamentally in favour of having television in an election’ although he added ‘a lot more should be done in the way of reporting’. He too, agreed with Mr Parkinson in that he didn’t think it altered the way people are going to vote, but that also it makes people conscious of their responsibility to vote.

The three shows totalled just two hours and five minutes of broadcasting. Compared to today, that is hardly a toe being dipped into water. As this piece is written, the next parliamentary general election is no more than two years away (January 2025). We will be bombarded – make no mistake – with almost round the clock coverage on the rolling news channels of the BBC, Sky, LBC, Talk TV and mainstream channels’ own news programmes. Bradby, Peston, Kuenssberg, Edwards, Mason, Marr and Ferrari et al will be in fifth gear. Vine will no doubt stride once again across digitally created graphics and even Bob McKenzie may turn in his grave, his swingometer poised.

And all due in no small part, although few will realise it, to the now almost-forgotten days of Granada TV’s ground breaking project of February 1958 in Rochdale where really, it all began.

★ Pete Singleton is a Transdiffusion staff editor.

The post Granada goes to Rochdale appeared first on THIS IS GRANADA from Transdiffusion.

At 11.50 a.m. on Wednesday Granado presents a live out-side broadcast of the opening by the Queen of Manchester’s new Courts of Justice. On Wednesday and Thursday the Northern newscast will include film of other highlights of the two-day tour.

Here TV TIMES looks at some of the Northern Royal tours of the past.

MILLIONS of Northerners will be able to see the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh being received on the steps of Manchester’s new £1,250,000 [£23.5m in today’s money, allowing for inflation – Ed] Courts of Justice by the Lord Mayor of Manchester, Alderman Arthur Donovan, on Wednesday.

Among the people they will see in Court dress, robes, or ceremonial uniforms, will be the Earl of Derby (Lord Lieutenant of Lancashire); Dr. Charles Hill (Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster); Lord Parker (the Lord Chief Justice); a number of High Court judges; Col. W. M. Musgrave-Hoyle (High Sheriff of Lancashire), and civic heads from many parts of the North.

It will be a brilliant occasion as the long procession moves to the great hall inside the building, where the Queen will unveil a commemorative tablet.

Granada cameras will be strategically placed to bring viewers close-ups of the Queen and other members of the Royal party as commentator Bill Grundy describes the ceremony.

This will be a vastly different Royal visit to those made by the Queen’s ancestors.

Until Queen Victoria’s visit in 1851, the year of the Great Exhibition, Manchester — and Lancashire generally — had been sadly overlooked by England’s monarchs.

True, Manchester can claim to have had a visit from King Ina of Wessex and his Queen, Ethelburga, in 689 (he made it his headquarters for several months while repelling Irish and Welsh foes) and Canute the Dane marched in on his way to Cumberland in 1031, but the first real visit as such by a reigning sovereign was that of Henry VII in 1495.

James I passed by on his way from Edinburgh to London and Charles II is said to have slept at a house just off Market Street, Manchester, in 1651 while journeying to battle at Worcester.

But these were only fleeting glimpses of Royalty and it was Queen Victoria’s memorable visit that set the pattern of Royal visits as we know them today.

Queen Victoria was most impressed, too, for she wrote in her diary: “The day was fine and mild. The mechanics and workpeople dressed in their best were ranged along the streets with white rosettes in their button holes.

“We went into Peel Park before leaving Salford and saw a most extraordinary and, I suppose, unprecedented sight — 82,000 schoolchildren.

“All the children sang ‘God Save The Queen’ extremely well together.

“The streets were immensely filled and the cheering and enthusiasm was most gratifying.”

When the Queen wrote of the 82,000 children in Peel Park singing the National Anthem she was not quite correct. It was intended that they should and they did, in fact, get through the first verse.

But at that point their surging enthusiasm broke free and, completely ignoring the conductor, they cheered the Royal party until they were hoarse.

It was the sort of enthusiasm, affection and loyalty that has marked every Royal visit since and for which Lancashire is now famous, for since the turn of the century, Manchester has many times welcomed Royal guests and can no longer complain of feeling neglected.

Now excitement is in the air again as Lancashire prepares for next week’s two-day tour by the Queen and Prince Philip, a tour that has links with visits made by the Queen’s grandfather, King George V, and her great-grandfather, King Edward VII, at the be ginning of the century.

The Queen’s first engagement when she arrives in Manchester on Wednesday will be to present a new guidon to the Duke of Lancaster’s Own Yeomanry at a ceremonial parade at Belle Vue Stadium. This replaces the old guidon presented to the regiment by King Edward VII at Worsley Park in 1909.

Another link is provided by the Queen’s visit on Thursday to a vast glassworks at St. Helens, for King George V toured the plant in 1913 and in the powerhouse started the 6,000 H.P. turbo generator which was named the King George.

These events, the opening of the new Royal Technical College and the Dockers’ Social Centre in Salford and the Royal visit to a charity theatre performance of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs on Ice in Liverpool, will be covered in special Northern newscast reports.

The post Royal pageantry comes North appeared first on THIS IS GRANADA from Transdiffusion.

FOR at least 10 people out of the millions of regular viewers, All Our Yesterdays will become a heartbreak programme on Monday.

Ten more widows, mothers, sisters, brothers and friends will see their loved ones wave farewell and give the thumbs-up sign in one of those cheery newsreel films of 25 years ago. Laughing troops who were later to die in action.

Every week on average, 10 people write to the All Our Yesterdays office asking for pictures of their dear departed.

Brian Inglis and producer Bill Grundy are aware of the heartbreak this weekly peep into the past can bring. They have weighed the cost and decided that this is one of the penalties that must be paid for the privilege of telling the story of Britain’s part in the Second World War.

Bill Grundy told me: “People are always writing to say I got a terrible shock last night when I saw my husband. Please try to let me have a picture of him. After that newsreel shot he was never seen again.’

“And, of course, within reason, we try to satisfy these requests. We have to confine ourselves to outstanding cases. Widows who ask for photographs of their husbands naturally get priority.

“It calls for a weekly picture hunt and a bit of detective work. We have to identify the face, track down the exact frame from thousands of feet of film, and get the picture enlarged.”

As the programme bites deeper into the war, Bill and company are preparing for more photo requests.

Going through the All Our Yesterdays postbag, I found the letters strange as well as nostalgic. A Welshman living in Oxford wrote to say that the war years were the happiest of his life.

He asked for a newsreel picture of his friends singing in the N.A.A.F.I. He wrote: “I am an invalid who has been desperately unlucky in life as a child and as a postwar adult.”

One of the most moving newsreel sequences showed a British European Forces platoon tramping through the snow in France. All Our Yesterdays received a request for pictures of every man in the platoon.

Not one of them had survived. But not one had been forgotten.

An infantryman wrote for a picture of a French farmyard near Gorre. “While I was sheltering from an air-raid,” he wrote, “a jagged chunk of shrapnel ricochettcd off the cobblestones and killed the man next to me.

“He was a Roman Catholic padre from Birkenhead. I want the picture to send to his sister.”

Often, it’s an innocent, cheery looking newsreel shot that brings the memories flooding back. Former RAF Flight Lieutenant Harold Perry, of Thornber Grove, Blackpool, saw himself and his crew clamber out of a battered bomber at Villeneuve, France.

The film was shot in March, 1940, after a typically hair-raising war incident. Mr. Perry takes up the story: “I was a wireless operator in the Whitley Mark V bomber. We had been on a fact-finding mission over Warsaw and landed by mistake at Saarbrucken, 15 kilometres behind enemy lines.

“The bullets began to fly as we tried to take off again on a very short runway. Luckily a drainage trench had been dug across the fields, and when the old Whitley hit it, we literally bounced off the ground.

“The Germans threw everything at us, but we managed to get away by some very fine ‘grass-cutting’ 3ft. above the ground.

I wrote because I am the only survivor of the crew of Old Queenie. We got back safely, but the rest of the boys were killed or reported missing on subsequent missions.”

And so the letters go on. Behind almost every incident and every face in the crowd featured in those newsreel films of 25 years ago is another story to match it in courage or sadness.

The post Pictures from the past appeared first on THIS IS GRANADA from Transdiffusion.

IF you are the kind of person who knows just when the Tolpuddle Martyrs were deported, and who wrote the book “John Barleycorn,” and how pumice is formed, then you are probably just the kind of person that Pat Lagone is looking for.

Because Pat is producer of Criss Cross Quiz, which returns on Wednesday. And according to her, it is the person with just this kind of flypaper memory who stands the best chance of success in this ever-popular quiz game.

“Specialists, we’ve found, don’t usually get very far,” explained Pat. “The brilliant schoolteacher, for instance, who knows his particular subject backwards, may well get annihilated by a taxi driver without a letter to his name, but with the time and the appetite for newspapers and reference books.”

The variety of occupations of the people already booked to compete in the new session certainly seems to bear out this theory. “We have everything from bank clerks to booksellers, from airline officials to housewives, from students to Customs and Excise officers,” she said.

Likely applicants for the programme are invited along to the studio to face a really stiff general knowledge test.

“But success in this isn’t enough,” said Pat. “They still have to have personality. They still have to be able to think quickly. And they still have to satisfy us that their nerves are strong enough to play this kind of noughts and crosses with cameras staring down their throats and a large section of the British public watching them.”

Also having to keep his wits about him, in the cut-and-thrust of the competition for the top prize of £1,000 [£17,000 in today’s money, allowing for inflation – Ed], will be question master Bill Grundy.

The post All you need is a flypaper memory appeared first on THIS IS GRANADA from Transdiffusion.

“THIS,” said a member of the World in Action team wryly, “is not a show to work for if you like to sleep regularly and are fond of your family.”

“It’s the way newspapers used to be in the old days,” chipped in Alex Valentine (ex-Fleet Street) without a trace of nostalgia.

“It’s a dictatorship,” boomed Tim Hewat, the 35 year old Australian dynamo who heads the team as executive producer. “It has to be to get the right results.”

Youngest of all television’s current affairs programmes (it began only last January), World in Action has brought a new style of television journalism into existence.

There are no link-men or pundits. Stories break down into three categories — profiles, inquiries and exposes. “Tough, tireless noseyness in the best traditions of good journalism,” The Spectator called it.

Behind the scenes, it is the tirelessness that distinguishes the whole operation. On a story about airlines the team travelled thousands of miles in two days, passed through 19 customs posts in 58 hours. Sleep? “We snatched it where we could.” said [Bill] Grundy. “On the plane, on an airport seat, sometimes even in taxis.”

Stephen Peet, after working for several weeks on his sensational film of East Germany, saw it edited and cut and prepared for transmission. Then he drifted into the office the following Monday for what he thought would be “a quiet day to enjoy my triumph. I should have known better — I didn’t get home until 3 a.m.”

Alex Valentine had to get up at dawn every day for a week in order to film petrol tankers filling up with supplies for his story on the cut-price petrol war.

Hewat and another member of the production team (there are six producers including Hewat, aided by three researchers) sat up all night editing and cutting and writing the commentary for the story on gambling.

When the Zermatt typhoid story broke last March, Tim Hewat decided it was too hot to ignore.

Two camera teams flew to Switzerland and by train to Zermatt and Davos. On the advice of the Public Health Laboratory, they made them selves self-supporting. (“They mustn’t eat or drink anything while there,” warned an official. “They mustn’t even brush their teeth.”)

The team disembarked from the mountain railway at Zermatt with 67 pieces of equipment, to be met by hostile officials who refused their co-operation.

So while Hewat argued, his chief cameraman, David Samuelson, crept away with a silent camera and shot 600ft. of film. But by the time he returned, Hewat had talked the officials round. By Friday night, Hewat and his men were back from Switzerland and the job of cutting and editing began.

The post TOUGH and TIRELESS – that’s World in Action appeared first on THIS IS GRANADA from Transdiffusion.

AS a television personality Chris Langford is rare indeed. For she says: “I would not have minded too much if the chance to get into show business had not come my way.” And: “I have no particular ambition to get to the top.”

Two-and-a-half years ago Chris was a secretary at a modest salary in a Manchester office. Then “just for a lark” she entered a talent competition and won first prize.

That led to a job in television and, 15 months ago, to the regular singing spot in Granada’s People and Places.

Chris, 21, told me at the Manchester studios that despite her show business life she still enjoys “all the simple things in life, such as lying in bed late, listening to records, reading, knitting, shopping and an occasional trip to London.”

Chris must be television’s only singer who uses dancing lessons to help her singing technique. She said: “Although I don’t dance professionally, the dancing lessons and the daily limbering-up exercises I do at home help tremendously with arm movements when I’m singing.”

A year ago Chris married Jim Goldby, a television sound engineer. They settled down to a quiet life in an eight-roomed flat in Tynemouth, near Newcastle.

Said Chris: “It’s in a Georgian type house with French windows looking right out over the sea. We have wonderful views for landscape painting. Jim is a good painter and now I’ve decided to take it up.”

Chris added: “We are also both keen on Continental cooking and we love to experiment with French and Italian dishes.

“Jim is the better cook. He creates some wonderful meals.”

Visitors to the Goldby flat usually find Chris lounging in slacks and silk shirts, though she has between 50 and 60 smart dresses.

Some of these dresses she designs herself, but she admits that she spends a great deal of money at shops. “Clothes,” she said, “are one of my weaknesses.”

Chris has an impish sense of humour which, during rehearsals for People and Places, leads to much banter with interviewers Bill Grundy and Gay Byrne and the Derek Hilton Trio.

But she has no plans to become a comedienne. She said: “I love singing too much to think of anything else. All I want is to go on singing in People and Places and live quietly with my husband.”

The post Chris Langford doesn’t seek stardom appeared first on THIS IS GRANADA from Transdiffusion.

WATCH out … People and Places is coming your way. From next week, thousands of Northerners on holiday at seaside towns in the region will be able to see how this Granada show goes on the air.

Twelve on-the-spot editions, under the title “Pier to Pier,” are planned for a four-week tour of the resorts.

The tour begins on Tuesday at Skegness. There, the 50 strong production and technical staff will work at top pressure to set up their mobile studio and put over the show before moving on to Mablethorpe and Cleethorpes on Wednesday and Thursday.

Then on to Bridlington, Filey, Scarborough, Morecambe, Blackpool, St. Annes, Rhyl, Colwyn Bay and Llandudno.

This meet-the-people series of outside broadcasts aims to provide something for everyone.

Holidaymakers will see and hear the programme personalities — interviewers Bill Grundy and Gay Byrne, singer Marion Keene and the Derek Hilton Trio — as the show goes on the air.

Viewers will also see show-business stars appearing in the seaside summer shows, a film of the town from which the programme is transmitted and they will meet some of the interesting people who live and work in the towns.

Cameras will be perched on piers and promenades, in pleasure grounds, on harbour walls and beside boating pools.

Interviews by Bill Grundy and Gay Byrne will present current news stories against a background of yachts, sand, sea and fairground bustle.

Marion Keene gets a num her of unusual settings for her songs. At Mablethorpe they pop her on top of a helter-skelter and at Morecambe on board the schooner Moby Dick, the one that was used in the film.

Producer David Plowright told me: “The content of the show will be the same as it is in the studios. The difference is that all the items in ‘Pier to Pier’ will have a holiday flavour.

“We shall be doing all the shows out in the open — whatever the weather!

“We intend looking at the main sport in each resort — water ski-ing, sand yachting, and so on — and see some kart racing.”

The double decker, open-topped People and Places bus, which will be heading Granada’s Travelling Eye fleet, will become a familiar sight to holidaymakers.

Last year the People and Places team faced a number of hazards — including the bad weather — that they hope they will not have to cope with this year.

One was the gremlin that turned up at Bridlington in the shape of a gust of wind. It blew the programme caption cards into the sea minutes before the programme was due to go on.

They were retrieved, dripping wet, with only seconds to spare, by three men in a small boat.

When the show visited the Quarry Hill Flats, at Leeds, some of the intended camera shots were obscured by an army of children.

Closer and closer came the children until the camera crews and artists — among them singer Marion Ryan — were surrounded.

And at Carr Mill, near St. Helens, the Derek Hilton Trio went adrift. The anchorage of the raft on which they were playing broke and they began to float out into the lake as hydroplanes whizzed past them at speed.

The post People on the pier appeared first on THIS IS GRANADA from Transdiffusion.

PEOPLE who know how long I’ve known Bill Grundy often ask me what the man is really like.

Has he always been as aggressive and dogmatic as he is in front of the television camera, they want to know. Is that hard-bitten exterior something that has grown on him in recent years? And does a heart of gold beat under it?

Well, a heart of gold he may have. But Grundy doesn’t change much, on or off the screen. He’s been that way ever since I first met him 15 years ago. And I expect he always will be.

It’s fatal, for instance, to be in a car with him.

If you’re driving, I’ll guarantee your driving will disintegrate within minutes. He won’t say anything. He’ll just sit there, watching you. He has a naturally critical presence, I suppose.

It’s even worse when he’s driving — if you’re one of those normal, sane, sensitive souls who hates scenes that is. He’s a good driver, but there’s nothing he enjoys more than a raucous argument with another driver in the middle of a traffic jam.

Just let someone turn right without giving a signal, or stop without warning, or cut in front of him! Down goes the window, and within seconds Grundy is in full flood.

Dinner with Grundy is another perilous experience. He’s an expert on wine, you sec. Pity the wine-waiter who doesn’t know his wine when he’s dealing with Grundy! He’ll argue for hours about it, completely oblivious to your rapidly cooling dinner. I think he would rather argue about it than drink it.

He’s mean, too.

Not about big things, of course. He will spend pounds buying a present for someone, but he can get positively delirious with delight if he thinks he’s got something twopence cheaper than the market price.

And then, of course, there are the children. He has five — four boys and a girl.

They all adore him. I can’t think why. He’s a real Victorian father to them.

I think he gets round them by taking them for long walks, and telling them about soil and things. That’s one advantage of being a geologist, I suppose.

He buys them things, too. He bought eight-year-old Nicholas a microscope the other day. Poor Nicholas. I could have told him what would happen. Now he can’t get near the thing when his father’s around.

I shudder to think what’s going to happen when he buys them the electric train set he is promising them this Christmas. I expect that within minutes of its assembly, the household will be subjected to dissertations on railway technique by Station Master Grundy.

He’s hopeless around the house, by the way.

He won’t admit it, but he is. His family don’t bother asking him to do odd jobs any more. Get him to knock a nail in the wall? Bill will be happy to do it. But no one can guarantee the result.

Shattered plaster, bent nails, bruised thumbs and frayed tempers — take your pick. They’re all equally likely. And whose fault do you think it will be that things go wrong?

You’ve guessed it. The children’s, or the manufacturers of “inferior” nails. Even the hammer isn’t above reproach.

Mending the fuse is a positive adventure with him. He understands the mechanics of the thing, of course. He does with most things.

But he’ll probably lose the screws, and everyone within range will be enlisted to crawl round the floor looking for them. Never mention wallpaper to him. He’s liable to be rude.

He decided to paper his own bathroom some time ago, you see. He got four lengths on the walls, and then found that he couldn’t match them up.

He wouldn’t admit defeat, needless to say. He spent 12 months pretending to his friends that he hadn’t time to get down to the job, before finally getting a professional decorator in to finish it off.

All the handywork around his house is done by his father, the older Bill, who carries it out with a sort of scornful Grundy-like urbanity which must annoy Bill considerably.

It was Bill’s father, for instance, who turned the tennis court at the back of the Grundy home into a miniature football pitch. As soon as the work was done, the young Bill took charge of it.

Now, every Sunday, he organises a football match with the children.

He’s captain, of course, and he refuses to play in goal. He used to play on the wing for the Navy and for Manchester University, you know, and he insists on playing in that position now. He fancies himself as a sort of latter-day Bobby Charlton, I suppose.

Yes. Grundy’s pretty insufferable, on and off television. And what makes it worse is that he is really quite soft underneath it all.

You have to know what makes Bill tick, you see. Argument is a disease with him.

He’ll argue about anything. He’ll even argue when he knows he’s wrong — just for the hell of it.

I think I’ve got the best way to deal with the man when he gets like that, though, I just put out my tongue at him. It works like a charm.

Still, I suppose that tf anyone ought to know how to deflate the man, I should — for my name is Grundy, too — Jean Grundy.

I’ve been happily married to Bill for 15 years.

The post Grundy by name… appeared first on THIS IS GRANADA from Transdiffusion.

RUSH. That’s what it is. All rush. From the minute I set of for Manchester every Monday morning to the minute I get home to Birmingham 10 hours later.

Jump off the train at Manchester and into a speeding taxi. I wonder why Manchester has such comfortable taxis? But there isn’t lime to enjoy it. I’m there before I know it. And up the steps into the Granada Television Centre.

A quick chat with the producer. I tell him what Bloggs is doing this week. Bloggs is my favourite cartoon character. He’s based on my father, but don’t tell him. will you?

And then it’s off to the studio for a brief camera rehearsal.

What a chaotic jumble! Can they really produce a programme out of this maze of wires and cameras and microphones? We haven’t lost one yet, says one of the cameramen.

Things are already under way. Gay Byrne is casually awaiting the start of the programme. Bill Grundy is having an amiable chat with a fellow he’s going to interview. You have to keep the chap happy, don’t you?

So we go through the motions of the programme to get the camera angles ironed out. I think of all the things that can go wrong.

Like me falling through a piece of scenery. Or ruining one of those expensive cameras. Or getting hit on the head by a microphone.

What do you say when that happens? Even worse — what would Bill Grundy say? Worse still — what would the producer say?

Goodbye?

Camera rehearsal’s soon over. Time to relax a bit, I think. But Gay gives me a word of advice. If you want some food I’d snatch a bite now, he tells me. We’ll be starting again any time.

So I dash down the corridor to the canteen. Was that Ena Sharpies I just side-stepped? I haven’t the courage to find out. Or the time!

I never can get used to eating in this canteen.

You never know what nationally famous face is going to be facing you over the table. And you know what?

They eat and drink — just like real people.

My next stop is the make-up department. This is the pleasantest part of the day, being made-up by all those pretty girls. I’m surprised they don’t get on television themselves. And they’re so understanding, too. They don’t even object to my three day beard

But the rush is soon on again.

I whirl back to the studio. Everybody knows what he’s doing. Except me. I feel like a piece of luggage standing about. The Derek Hilton Trio are behind me — chatting nonchalantly about music. Nice to see artists working together in harmony.

I’m on any time now. Evelyn Rose is just finishing her recipe. That woman can talk even faster than I can draw. Will my chalk break? Will I knock over the floor manager?

The cameras move in. I’m on. Idiot thought — as I, go down for the last time … why do they make up all my face, when the viewers only see half of it?

Maybe if I had only half a face to make up, I could snatch a crafty smoke before going on.

It’s all over before I know it, I put down my chalk thank fully. I’m suddenly very hungry. Evelyn Rose’s recipe! If I can get my hands on that bowl of stew without being seen.

But Grundy and Byrne are there ahead of me. And all I get is an apologetic smile from Evelyn. You have to move fast in this business.

The post Chalk this page up to lightning Larry appeared first on THIS IS GRANADA from Transdiffusion.

FOR one week in the year, the Yorkshire spa of Harrogate puts on a French accent. Out come the tricolours, the bunting, the pavement cafe tables and the striped umbrellas. There are wine tastings and cookery demonstrations, French cabarets and French films. Even a French poodle show.

But for French Week 1960, which opens on Monday, there will be an added attraction — an on-the-spot visit by the entire People and Places team, led by those celebrated Francophiles Bill Grundy and Chris Howland.

“What’s a Francophile?” asks Howland.

“Don’t show your ignorance,” says Grundy. “It’s Latin for a Spanish rasp. You need educating. And if we re going to give the right touch to Wednesday’s programme from Harrogate, the sooner we start teaching you a thing or two the better.”

And that is how they came to be raiding the Granada wardrobe department (for Basque berets and Marseilles type T-shirts), the make-up room (for waxed moustaches and goatee beards), ending up over a cooker opening a tin of snails.

“Of course, eating snails is nothing new to me,” says Bill, spearing them from the tin and lovingly placing them one by one into the shells that come with them.

“Remember when you nipped over to visit me in Germany at the end of last year?” asks Chris, who is a top disc jockey on Cologne radio. “It was the time we went for a trip on a Rhine steamer.”

“Ah, yes,” muses Bill. “I remember getting off at the village of Unkel and buying two plates of snails and seven bottles of champagne. What happened next?”

“You spent the rest of the journey imitating an excitable Frenchman in front of a boatload of 600 puzzled passengers,” says Chris.

“It got rather embarrassing because most of them knew who I was but couldn’t understand how I had got mixed up with this ‘nana’ who was threatening to hit me over the head with a champagne bottle and screaming at me in a language he couldn’t speak.”

“I could,” objects Bill, who by now is filling the shells with a butter parsley-garlic mixture. “I’ll have you know that I can say My grandmother’s ear-trumpet has been struck by lightning without the trace of an accent.”

“Say it,” commands Chris.

“My grandmother’s ear-trumpet has been struck by lightning,” recites Bill in English, without batting an eyelid.

As the snails go in the oven to sizzle away in their aromatic sauce, the bitter friends, as they are known to the People and Places team, sit back to debate the form of Wednesday’s programme, which will come from the gaily-decorated, open-air market in the centre of Harrogate.

“I’m getting excited about meeting Maria Léa, the girl who heads the French cabaret,” says Bill. “She looks a peach.”

“I’m more interested in the French can-can girls,” says Chris.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” says Bill, pleased to air his superior knowledge, “but it’s only the can-can that’s French, not the girls. They’re as English as you are.”

“Let me tell you I have French blood in my veins,” protests Howland. “My ancestors came over during the French Revolution.”

“In that case, we ought to try you out with the French folklore group that’s coming to Harrogate,” says Bill, licking his lips as he lifts the snails out of the oven. “They dance a polka on stilts.”

“Is that possible?”

“Of course it’s possible. Their ancestors were shepherds who took to wearing stilts to keep an dye on their straying flocks. What did your ancestors do?”

“They were troubadours. They sang — and no one ever tried to stop them. People were nicer in those days,” says Chris, recalling the long standing feud about the exercise of the Howland vocal chords.

They move to the dining table, with Grundy instructing Howland in the gentle art of snail-eating as it is done in the better French families.

“Very clever,” murmurs Chris, admiring the swift manipulations of the Grundy fork as it probes shell after shell. “You must know France very well.”

“True,” says Bill. “I once spent a whole week there. In Paris. That was when I was a geologist. And the whole time was devoted to discussing a project for drilling oil in the Sahara.”

“In what language?” asks Chris.

“French,” says Bill.

“And what was the result?” asks Chris.

“We lost the contract,” says Bill.

“Oh,” says Chris, and tactfully changes the subject to his favourite topic of conversation — Chris Howland.

“Perhaps,” he says, “the producer will let me sing my current German hit record, because it’s very appropriate. It’s called Das Hab’ Ich in Paris Gelernt, which means ‘That’s what I learnt in Paris’.”

“But you’ve never been there,” says Bill.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” answers Chris. “I admit I only stayed 20 minutes between trains, but I proved a fast learner.”

“Then you’re out of practice tonight,” smiles Bill as he scoffs the last plump snail, leaving Chris nothing but a pile of empty shells.

“I don’t wish to be cruel.” says Chris, “but sometimes you make me wish that your grandmother’s ear-trumpet really had been struck by lightning.”

The post Howland v Grundy – c’est la guerre appeared first on THIS IS GRANADA from Transdiffusion.