Radio Fun and the BBC Variety Department, 1922–67 Martin Dibbs

Palgrave Studies in the History of the Media

Radio Fun and the BBC Variety Department, 1922–67

Comedy and Popular Music on Air

Martin Dibbs Palgrave Studies in the History of the Media

Series Editors Professor Bill Bell Cardiff University UK

Dr Chandrika Kaul University of St Andrews UK

Professor Alexander S. Wilkinson University College Dublin Ireland Palgrave Studies in the History of the Media publishes original, high quality research into the cultures of communication from the middle ages to the present day. The series explores the variety of subjects and disciplinary approaches that characterize this vibrant field of enquiry. The series will help shape current interpretations not only of the media, in all its forms, but also of the powerful relationship between the media and politics, society, and the economy. Advisory Board: Professor Carlos Barrera (University of Navarra, Spain), Professor Peter Burke (Emmanuel College, Cambridge), Professor Nicholas Cull (Center on Public Diplomacy, University of Southern California), Professor Bridget Griffen-Foley (Macquarie University, Australia), Professor Tom O’Malley (Centre for Media History, University of Wales, Aberystwyth), Professor Chester Pach (Ohio University).

More information about this series at http://www.palgrave.com/gp/series/14578 Martin Dibbs Radio Fun and the BBC Variety Department, 1922–67

Comedy and Popular Music on Air Martin Dibbs Kingsbarns, St Andrews, UK

Palgrave Studies in the History of the Media ISBN 978-3-319-95608-4 ISBN 978-3-319-95609-1 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-95609-1

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018951786

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2019 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, express or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institu- tional affiliations.

The popular radio entertainer Tommy Handley at the microphone with Clarence Wright during a war-time BBC variety show in Bangor. Photo by © Hulton-Deutsch Collection/ CORBIS/Corbis via Getty Images

This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland For Kate, with love Acknowledgements

Radio Fun has been written with the help of many people. Firstly, my thanks to Emily Russell and Carmel Kennedy at Palgrave Macmillan who made the publishing process as smooth as possible despite my constant emails. The book has been written largely from primary source material at the BBC Written Archive Centre and I would like to thank the staff there for their assistance and in particular Jeff Walden for his cheerful and unstint- ing help and advice during my many visits to Caversham Park. I would like to record my thanks to Immediate Media, especially Ralph Montagu, Head of Heritage, for generously permitting me to quote from Radio Times. Acknowledgement is also due to the staff of the National Library of Scotland; the British Newspaper Library in Colindale, London; the Bodleian Library, Oxford; and the University of St Andrews Library. I would like to offer my thanks to the University of St Andrews Modern History Department for partially funding both my master’s and doctoral research from which this book is derived. Thanks are due to my supervisor James Nott for his enthusiasm for my subject. Thanks are also due to Anna Spackman who was there at the beginning at Dundee University back in 1998. I owe a great debt to my oral history respondents and their families who at the time of interview were in their 80s and 90s. I was invited into their homes where I was received most cordially and hospitably. I would like to thank them for their time in recalling their experiences in the Variety Department from the 1930s to the 1980s. They are Bob Colston,

vii viii Acknowledgements

Elizabeth Terry, Brian Willey, Donald Maclean, Geoff Purrier, Pat and Geoff Lawrence, Peter Pilbeam (who discovered The Beatles for the BBC) and Charles Chilton, a pioneer of broadcast jazz at the BBC, who regaled me with, among many other stories, his meetings with Sir John Reith. I would also like to thank John Fawcett Wilson, producer of Radio 4’s King Street Junior, who answered my questions by phone and Marion Holledge who corresponded with me about her memories of the BBC during the 1940s. It was a privilege to meet them all—sadly, many are no longer with us. Finally, my love and thanks to Kate, my wife, who, throughout the writing and editing process, kept me focused at all times, made sense of the manuscript and so much more. Without her support, this book could not and would not have been written. To her it is dedicated. A Note on Primary Source Material

All BBC files cited in this book are preceded by the abbreviation BBC WAC. Individual files are referred to by the subject of the individual document, but where they are untitled they are referred to by sender to recipient either by name, for example, Watt to Nicolls, or by job title, DV to C(P). BBC copyright content is reproduced courtesy of the British Broadcasting Corporation. All rights reserved.

ix A Note on Terminology Used

Throughout the book, I have used the term ‘network’ rather than ‘programme’ when referring to particular divisions of the BBC’s radio output. ‘Programme’ rather than ‘show’ is used to indicate a particular radio production or series although there are a few exceptions. I have also frequently abbreviated the BBC Light Programme, Home Service and Third Programme to the Light, Home and Third, respectively. I have used the terms ‘the Department’ and ‘Variety’ as shorthand ways of referring to the Variety Department. As far back as the 1930s, Variety was occasionally referred to as Light Entertainment, but I have tried to restrict this term to the post-1957 period following the renaming of the Department to Light Entertainment (Sound). Variety, Talks, Features, Drama, Children’s Hour and so on, where capitalised, refer to BBC programme-making departments. I have also tended to use the term ‘radio’ instead of ‘wireless’ which today, in the world of electronic communication, has another meaning. Inevitably exceptions will have crept in; any errors are my responsibility.

xi Contents

1 Introduction 1

2 1922–1933: Variety Before Variety 13 The Dawn of Radio Entertainment 13 John Reith: Architect of the BBC 16 Early Programme-Making and Criticism 18 First-Generation Radio Artists 24 Early Organisation of Light Entertainment 26 Cleaning Up Its Act 29 The Trans-Atlantic Octopus 31 Music for the Many 34 The Devil’s Music on Air 37 Ukulele Players and Comedians 40 Conclusion 42

3 1933–1939: The Show Begins 47 Variety Takes Shape 47 Looking for Ideas 51 Bureaucracy and the BBC 55 Keeping It Clean … and British 60 America: Opposition and Influences 64 Variety’s Home-Grown Programmes 68 Dance Music and Crooning 71

xiii xiv Contents

Some Like It Hot 74 A Hierarchy of Dance Music 78 The Demon Drink 79 Sunday Policy and Continental Competition 80 Lightening the Schedule 85 Who’s Listening? 90 Variety: A Guinea Pig 93 Change at the Top 97 Conclusion 99

4 1939–1945: We Will Be Working Under Difficulties 107 Variety Goes to War 107 Variety on the Move 111 Assessing Audience Opinion 114 The Forces Programme 117 On the Move Again 122 Keeping Cheerful 126 The Dance Music Policy Committee 134 Jazz and Popular Music 136 Crooning and Slush 138 The Offensive on Drink, Dirt and Foreigners 142 Transatlantic Assistance and Co-operation 148 An In-House Assessment 152 Post-War Plans 157 Departures and Arrivals 162 Conclusion 163

5 1945–1955: A Golden Age for Radio Comedy 171 Normal Service Resumed 171 The Pyramid of Culture 173 Variety Demobbed 175 Chambermaids and Fig Leaves 184 Anti-Americanism Returns 190 Radio Comedy Perfected 194 Another Evaluation 205 That Old Familiar Tune 206 All that Jazz 209 Contents xv

Not to Be Broadcast 211 The Inevitability of Change 215 The Light Goes ‘Heavy’ 217 Variety Holds Its Own 221 Conclusion 222

6 1956–1967: Sound into Vision; Popular into Pop 229 The Shock of the New 229 The Future of Sound Broadcasting 231 Managing Decline 238 Keeping It Clean and Wholesome 244 Getting With-It 247 Beat and the BBC: Into the Swinging 60s 249 Jazz: Too Little, or Quite Enough? 253 The Decline of the DMPC 256 New Directions 261 Piracy, Needletime and a Major Reorganisation 265 The End of an Era 269 Conclusion 270

7 Coda 275

Sources and Further Reading 283

Index 291 Abbreviations

AEFP Allied Expeditionary Forces Programme AFN American Forces Network AI Appreciation Index (later RI—see below) BBC British Broadcasting Company (1922–26), British Broadcasting Corporation (1927 onwards) BBC WAC BBC Written Archive Centre BEF British Expeditionary Force C(P) Controller of Programmes DMPC Dance Music Policy Committee DV Director of Variety HLE (S) Head of Light Entertainment (Sound) HV Head of Variety ITMA It’s That Man Again (radio programme) MoI Ministry of Information MWYW Music While You Work (radio programme) PAMS Production, Advertising, Merchandising Service RCA Radio Corporation of America RI Reaction Index RP Radio Pictorial RT Radio Times TIFH Take It From Here (radio programme) WVS Women’s Voluntary Services

xvii List of Tables

Table 3.1 The growth of the BBC Variety Department: staff statistics 1933–39 51 Table 3.2 BBC National Programme: schedule for Sunday, 21 March 1937 81 Table 3.3 Radio Luxembourg: schedule for Sunday, 21 March 1937 82 Table 3.4 BBC National Programme: schedule for Sunday, 4 August 1939 88 Table 3.5 Popularity of Variety programmes with light entertainment listeners: October–December 1937 95 Table 3.6 Variety listeners’ preferences for light entertainment programmes: the first Listening Barometer, October– December 1937 96 Table 4.1 BBC Home Service: schedule for Friday, 8 September 1939 109 Table 4.2 BBC Home Service: schedule for Monday, 18 December 1939 113 Table 4.3 ‘For the Forces’: schedule for Tuesday, 20 February 1940 118 Table 5.1 Variety Department staff numbers 1946–55 175 Table 5.2 BBC Light Programme: schedule for Sunday, 10 December 1950 177 Table 5.3 BBC Light Programme: schedule for Tuesday, 11 October 1949 218 Table 5.4 Average listening audience in Britain Feb. 1952–Feb. 1954 220 Table 6.1 Variety Department staff numbers 1956–67 232 Table 6.2 Comparison of BBC radio audience numbers, 1948 and 1956 233 Table 6.3 Light Programme: annual programme content in percentages, 1956–67 237

xix xx List of Tables

Table 6.4 London Home Service: annual programme content in percentages, 1956–67 238 Table 6.5 BBC Light Programme: schedule for Friday, 21 October 1960 239 Table 6.6 Radio 1 and Radio 2 the broadcasting day: Tuesday, 14 November 1967 268 CHAPTER 1

Introduction

There was no television in our house until 1966. Consequently I grew up during the 1950s listening to the radio. Our radios were frequently my grandparents’ cast-offs, apart from the wartime austerity model we owned for a short while. They often had an intricate design around the speaker, and the waveband display included strange and exotic place names such as Athlone, Hilversum, Riga and Zagreb. With their glowing valves, these radios always seemed to take an irritatingly long time to warm up before any sound came out and even then would crackle alarmingly as the volume or waveband was adjusted. The radio came to be my window on the world as well as a supplement to my early education. I listened avidly to the Light Programme with its comedy and wide range of music and while I might not have always completely understood the humour, my imagination painted a picture in my mind of how particular radio artists looked. Every week I eagerly anticipated Hancock’s Half Hour with Bill Kerr addressing Tony Hancock as ‘Tub’ and The Navy Lark’s Jon Pertwee shouting ‘Everybody Down!’ prior to HMS Troutbridge suffering some navigational calamity. While home from school for lunch, I looked forward to the comedian Ken Platt opening his act for Workers’ Playtime in his flat Northern accent with his catchphrase—when it was still de rigueur for comedians to have a catchphrase—‘I won’t take my coat off I’m not stopping!’ I must also have been among the relatively few youngsters who remained devoted to Children’s Hour on the radio as it gradually yielded

© The Author(s) 2019 1 M. Dibbs, Radio Fun and the BBC Variety Department, 1922–67, Palgrave Studies in the History of the Media, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-95609-1_1 2 M. DIBBS to both television and the BBC’s cuts and changes of the early 1960s. When alone, I would experiment with tuning the radio and discovered the delights of the Home Service where I listened to the repeats of the week’s comedy programmes I had missed on the Light Programme. The Third Programme too nurtured my interest in serious music and the theatre. On Sundays my parents cooked lunch against a background of the Light Programme’s Two-Way Family Favourites. Later we ate to the accompaniment of the boisterous sounds of a British institution of the 1950s, the Billy Cotton Band Show—Sunday was unthinkable without it—followed by Educating Archie, Ray’s A Laugh or some other Variety Department comedy production. For me these programmes were highly amusing and I never gave a moment’s thought to the organisation behind them or the producers such as Jacques Brown, Charles Maxwell and Roy Speer who were simply names mentioned at the end of each programme. Fifty years later this concerned me much more. While at the BBC’s Written Archive Centre researching BBC radio comedy in the post-war period, as well as exploring other primary and secondary source material, I became aware that there had been no specific enquiry into the history of the BBC’s Variety Department. Gradually, the Centre’s pink folders revealed long-forgotten personalities and brought to life scenes and situations dating from the earliest years of the BBC. The same names appeared in documents repeatedly as did their sometimes intriguing job title abbreviations. HV and HLE (S) were straightforward; HAR and AHLMP (S) needed a little more thought but HCat, ASESBOB and MOLE(S)—the latter I subsequently interviewed—required considerably more decoding.1 People such as the Misses Absalom and Lipscomb, Gale Pedrick, M.M. Dewar, Pat Dixon, C.F. (‘Mike’) Meehan and Patrick Newman to name but a few, soon began to feel like old friends as they all went about their daily business whether it was informing, requesting, creating, discussing, resolving, placating, complaining, proposing, responding or submitting. The title of this book is taken partly from the popular but long defunct children’s comic Radio Fun which featured the fictitious adventures of the day’s radio stars in strip cartoon form. The book focuses largely on the history and work of the BBC’s Variety Department from the formation of the BBC in 1922 until 1967. The Department devised, developed and put together radio light entertainment programmes, generally weekly, many of which went on to become firmly embedded in the nation’s cultural psyche. It was a hive of continual human creative interaction which, despite its INTRODUCTION 3 myriad problems, simply got on with the business of entertaining the nation on a daily basis despite, for example, frequent studio chaos, financial stringency, eccentric characters—often both the producers and the artists—and repeatedly berating memoranda from senior management. It always worked to a very tight schedule. This book is neither a history of radio artists nor of light entertainment programmes although both feature strongly as they were an integral part of the make-up of the Department. Instead it is a narrative history exploring along chronological lines the workings of, tensions within and the impact of BBC policies on the programme-making department which generated the organisation’s largest audiences. It provides an insight into inter alia key events, personalities, programmes, internal politics and trends in popular entertainment, censorship and anti-American policy as they individually or collectively affected the Department. It examines how the Department’s programmes became markers in the daily and weekly lives of millions of listeners and helped shape the nation’s listening habits when radio was the dominant source of domestic entertainment. The book includes and explores events and topics which, while not directly forming part of the Variety Department’s history, nevertheless intersected with or had an impact on it. Such topics include the BBC’s attitude to jazz and rock and roll, the arrival of television with its impact on radio, the pirate radio stations and the Popular Music and Gramophone Departments, both of whom worked closely with the Variety Department. The book also demonstrates that it was possible for creativity to consistently thrive and develop within the highly bureaucratised environment of the BBC, despite pressures from above to conform to the organisation’s often conservative norms. The Variety Department was a prime example of this phenomenon. On many occasions senior management intervened to ‘rein in’ the Department whether it was in terms of, for example, programme presentation, choice of artist, producer or content. Frequently, after much har- rumphing from above, programmes which caused some displeasure to senior management went ahead with only minor changes to appease them, or even none at all. The BBC as a company and later public corporation always provided entertainment in its schedules. Variety was one of the main sources of early programme content. Variety, or vaudeville in America, was a form of public entertainment in a theatre setting comprising a series of separate acts or ‘turns’. It evolved from its predecessor, the music hall, which dated from mid-Victorian Britain and provided entertainment, largely 4 M. DIBBS comic and chorus songs, to an audience seated at tables and chairs with food and drink being served throughout the performance. From the late nineteenth century, purpose-built variety theatres began to appear in cit- ies and towns of any size. They were highly decorative both inside and out, had a proscenium arch, plush interiors and fixed seating, but without meals being served in the auditorium. Their arrival, together with changes in the law, marked the decline of the music hall from 1914 onwards. A variety show would include a selection of performers such as acrobats, animal acts, comedians, dancers, instrumentalists, jugglers, magicians, mime artists, singers and ‘speciality’ acts such as mind readers or whistlers. The programme would typically be played twice nightly and often run for a week, after which the acts would disperse to other venues across the country. Variety entertainment reached its zenith during the inter-war years, but its demise began with the arrival of its most serious rival, the talking cinema. With the expansion of the television audience, the variety theatre, as a type of public entertainment, was practically extinct by 1960.2 In the BBC’s early years, this established cultural form provided a source of material for popular entertainment programmes with their typical spread of talent. While there were practical reasons why the mime artist and juggler, which relied on visual impact, were excluded, there were examples of tap dancers being accommodated. Indeed, Music Hall and Palace of Varieties, which aimed to capture variety’s atmosphere, were among the Department’s most popular programmes for many years. When the BBC’s Variety Department was created in June 1933, its title reflected the diverse range of public entertainment genres then currently popular including revue, concert party and light opera, none of which would have been out of place in variety theatres. The Department came about through opposition, competition, criticism and need. Opposition came from the entertainment industry which regarded radio with deep suspicion as a means of depleting its audiences rather than as an opportunity to popularise its artists. Competition emanated from European continental radio stations who threatened the BBC’s monopoly and audience. Press criticism highlighted the BBC’s shortcomings in providing popular entertainment, while the need to increase variety programme output resulted from the formation of the BBC Empire Service in 1932. The BBC assumed that the majority of listeners would choose a diet of mainly popular enter tainment. However, John Reith, the BBC’s first General Manager and later Managing Director, felt that if the radio audience were continually INTRODUCTION 5 fed entertainment, they would soon grow tired of it. He considered that the medium should be used for the greater good by bringing into every home, irrespective of class or means, the best that had ever been thought or said in the world. He therefore set out to give the radio audience what he considered they needed rather than what they thought they wanted and to provide listeners with the full range of output on one radio network in order to surprise them with topics they never knew they would find engaging. The establishment of the Variety Department not only marked the beginning of the process to professionalise the BBC’s approach to the production of light entertainment programmes, but also gave clear evidence of the Corporation’s commitment to the provision of popular entertainment for the nation. The BBC now began to create something distinct—its own form of popular culture. One of the first steps was to initiate the process of reducing its dependence on the entertainment industry by developing its own ‘radiogenic’ stars—artists who had the unique ability to entertain and communicate with an unseen audience. Once the Department was operating, producers began to think more critically about how light entertainment on radio could be original, effective and better suited to the medium as they set about creating the first generation of programmes for the listener. These early attempts brought about innovative programmes such as Café Colette which, although broadcast from a London radio studio, transported listeners to Paris for a programme of live continental dance music. They also included In Town Tonight, the earliest chat show; Monday Night at Seven, which comprised four separate items; and Band Waggon, an early part-comedy programme in magazine format. It was during this period that the Variety Department established itself within the BBC and in the mind of the listeners and helped to make radio the leading provider of domestic entertainment in inter-war Britain. It was one of the first programme-making departments to embrace Listener Research as a valuable tool in determining audience size and preferences to inform programme-making. Successive Directors of Variety drew all this activity together. Each was a powerful and influential high- profile figure who, behind the scenes, grappled with the problems of having to find new artists, develop new programme ideas, source scripted material, answer the radio critics, work to tight schedules and justify the Department’s actions to senior management. The war severely tested the Variety Department and it was arguably its finest hour. It successfully carried the crucial dual responsibilities of 6 M. DIBBS morale-boosting by entertaining the nation at home and forces overseas and helping to ensure industrial output and productivity were consistently high. This was achieved under extremely difficult conditions while having to contend with the effects of two evacuations—with their accompanying transport and communication problems—shortages of talented staff brought about by war service and the need to consistently devise programmes to keep people cheerful. The BBC’s strict pre-war broadcasting standards were maintained. This involved the imposition of tough policies on programme censorship and an uneasy co-existence with American light entertainment with its potential to affect British culture. Wartime brought about important and irreversible changes to broadcasting. Significant breaks with Reithian philosophy came with the establishment of an additional single radio network, the Forces Programme, designed for a specific audience and purely for popular output. This led to the contraction of the BBC’s restrictive Sunday broadcasting policy. Variety emerged from the war in a state of low morale having burnt itself out creatively over the previous six years. A new Director heralded a period of renewal in which the Department discovered and established new artists and writers. The process was in full flower by the early 1950s when the radio comedy series proper—particularly the situation comedy format— had become well established. However, just when radio was demonstrating exactly what it could do, the scene was set for a decline in listening from the mid-1950s due to the rapid emergence of television as the dominant domestic entertainment medium. By 1967 the process was complete. All radio programme-making departments were affected by falling audience numbers with closures, mergers and movement of staff as the outcome. The Home Service and Light Programme became increasingly differentiated with the former being based more on the spoken word and the latter becoming a natural home for much of Variety’s output. The Variety Department was affected less by the changes than other departments. Nevertheless, it declined in terms of staff numbers and programme output and experienced budgetary constraint. It was not all bad news however, for a number of radio’s best-loved comedy programmes emerged over this period. Popular music policy changed too with the BBC having to accept that there was indeed an audience for rock and roll and later pop—a decision made easier by the emergence of a new generation of producers and managers and the retirement of the old guard. The BBC set about providing an alternative to Radio Luxembourg and later, through government direction, to offshore pirate radio stations. This culminated in the creation INTRODUCTION 7 of a popular music network (Radio 1) and the rebranding of the Light, Third and Home as Radios 2, 3 and 4 respectively. Two key, over-arching themes had a constant and disproportionate impact on the Variety Department throughout the period, censorship and anti-Americanism. These were not experienced to any great extent by other programme-making departments. Standards of propriety were of great importance to the BBC. Through censorship, the Corporation both restricted and prevented public access to anything it considered unsuitable in either comedy programme scripts or popular song lyrics. Until the late 1940s, there was little consolidated guidance to staff as to what constituted ‘unsuitable’. Policy was reactive, largely contained in a myriad of memos, usually hastily devised in response to public or internal displeasure. In 1948 formal guidelines were drawn up to provide advice to programme producers outlining what was acceptable for broadcasting. While the BBC endeavoured to maintain a high degree of censorship, such a position became increasingly difficult to sustain in the climate of social change which took place during the 1950s and 1960s. Early anti-Americanism within the BBC demonstrated a loathing for much of American popular entertainment which, it believed, would eventually swamp Britain’s distinctive cultural character if left unchecked. The Corporation therefore assumed the unofficial guardianship of British popular culture and devised strategies to mitigate the situation. It was the Variety Department which bore the brunt of the BBC’s anti-American outlook but, with a constant need for new radio stars and ideas, successful American formats were adopted, but only after they had been suitably adapted for British tastes. Nevertheless, the BBC considered Anglo- American relations of great importance, and a tradition of co-operation in broadcasting between the two nations grew steadily in order to promote a greater understanding between them. This was to prove invaluable particularly during the war. However, the wartime welcome to American programmes on the BBC was tempered with a post-war wish to preserve a Britishness in light entertainment, and the use of American idiom and faux American accents in scripts and popular songs was actively discour- aged. This attitude only began to decline with the arrival of commercial television in the mid-1950s with its plethora of popular imported American programmes. This book has been largely written from primary source material pre- served at the BBC Written Archive Centre, Caversham Park, Berkshire.3 Much of this original source material has never been published before 8 M. DIBBS and in using it, the voices of contemporary staff members tell the story of the Variety Department as it felt at the time. Of particular relevance has been the R (Radio) file group containing matters of policy, minutes of key administrative and production committees, records dealing with specific programmes and proceedings of the Programme Board and the Control Board, programme scripts on microfilm and a comprehensive collection of press cuttings dating from the 1920s. Many documents reveal, for example, the stages in policymaking, the problems facing programme makers, the tensions between the creative and administrative staff, edicts to output departments from senior management and inter-departmental politics. They also provide an insight into the relationship between artists, their managements and the BBC. While the archive provides a wealth of information for the historian, files are not always complete. Most frustrating for the historian are the lacunae—memoranda for which the replies have not survived, have gone astray or where the file simply ends. Tantalising are those files vetted by the Archive’s staff and endorsed ‘confidential papers removed from this file’. But it is the comments in pencil on documents which often betray a sense of the recipient’s true feelings about the matter in hand rather than the response eventually given in reply. As a further source of first-hand information and a means of hearing original voices from the Variety Department, I set up a small oral history project. Between October 2008 and February 2009, I interviewed a number of retired Department staff who had responded to an advertise- ment I had placed in Prospero, the BBC’s retired staff magazine. Their ages then ranged from their late 70s to early 90s, and they provided an illuminating insight into the workings of the Variety Department between 1933 and 1967. I was received into their homes with utmost courtesy and hospitality, and without exception they all had an illuminating recall of events as well as fond memories of working for the BBC. It proved to be a fascinating and rewarding experience and one of the most memorable aspects of researching this book. The respondents are listed in more detail in the Sources and Further Reading section at the end of the book. The BBC’s official publications have also been an important source of information. The annual review of the BBC’s work for the immediate past year was known at various times as the BBC Hand Book, BBC Year Book or BBC Annual. The first edition was theBBC Hand Book 1928. These books position themselves somewhere between a factual account and a public relations document and provide an uncritical but nevertheless useful guide INTRODUCTION 9 to the BBC. As with many official publications, often what has been omit- ted is as important as that which is present. Over the years their format followed a similar pattern which included insights into broadcasting policy, names of principal officers, details relating to individual radio networks, programme supply departments: generally, a summary of the Variety Department’s work and key statistics relating to the organisation. Radio Times, first published in 1923, provided information on Variety programmes, artists and daily programme content generally. It also served as a point of contact between the BBC and the radio audience as well as providing and promoting the BBC’s view to its readers. However, Radio Times should not be taken as an authentic guide to what had or would be broadcast as it was printed some weeks in advance of publication and the programme schedule could and often did change between the day the magazine was printed and the day when programmes were broadcast. The most accurate record of broadcasts is Programmes-as-Broadcast (P-as-B), a daily register of every broadcast on each BBC service, a copy of which is kept at the BBC Written Archive Centre. The BBC Quarterly (1946–54) resembled an academic journal and reflected on the problems of broadcasting. Throughout its relatively short life, it published a number of articles pertinent to the Variety Department and the Light Programme largely outlining problems and challenges. Although not a BBC publication, Radio Pictorial (1934–39) was a weekly magazine aimed at the family but with an appeal specifically targeted at women with its free gifts, pull-out pictures of the day’s stars, special offers and advertising. Its focus was largely, but not exclusively, on light entertainment and consequently on the radio celebrities of the time. Although initially supportive of the BBC, the Corporation’s perceived failings were sometimes featured in articles often in sensationalised form. These grew more common as the magazine strengthened its connection with European commercial radio for which it carried programme listings. Limitations of time and space have meant that inevitably there are areas which deserved more attention. In this respect I am mindful of the role played by women in the Department. Variety was male-dominated in terms of producers although a small number of women such as Doris Arnold (the pioneer), Audrey Cameron, Joan Clark and Joy Russell-Smith worked their way up through the organisation to become producers, most notably in wartime when many male producers were on war service, although their employment continued subsequently. While women always 10 M. DIBBS comprised over half the departmental staff, they were primarily employed on clerical and secretarial roles—in the latter frequently covering for their producers when absent. Their support was integral to the creative process not only in ensuring that programmes were ready to broadcast but frequently that they were broadcast at all. Prior to the war, three women did reach director level within the Corporation: Hilda Matheson was the BBC’s first Director of Talks, Mary Somerville the Director of School Broadcasting and Isa Benzie, Foreign Director. There were also a number of women who became producers, most notably Olive Shapley of the Features Department in the North Region. With a marriage bar in operation at the BBC from 1932, women might only be permitted to stay on if they were considered to be of great importance to the Corporation. Isa Benzie resigned from the BBC in January 1938 following her marriage to television producer John Morley, but by contrast Doris Arnold was retained in her post after she married producer Harry S. Pepper in 1943.4 I am also conscious that this study has been largely London-centric because of the greater availability of primary source material relating to the capital and because it was the programme-making heart of the Variety Department. However, this does not diminish the importance of, and the substantial contribution to, Variety’s overall programme output made by the regions, including the North Region which employed talented staff who produced many important and memorable programmes. Significant among them were Richard (Dick) Kelly of the BBC’s Newcastle office who was a champion of local talent and Ronnie Taylor, the North Region’s Senior Variety Producer. He was described by Variety production secretary Pat Lawrence as ‘an absolutely fantastic man who created all sorts of programmes’. He introduced artists such as Al Read and Morecambe and Wise to the radio audience and produced Variety Fanfare, the North’s answer to London’s Variety Bandbox. Writer and producer James Casey, best known for The Clitheroe Kid, deserves more recognition. These were all important if lesser-known examples of key figures in BBC radio entertainment based outside London. While regional producers and artists were often known only through a credit at the end of a programme or in Radio Times, they have been insufficiently acknowledged as contributors not only to BBC light entertainment but to British popular culture in general. Prior to 1961, when Asa Briggs published the first volume of his outstanding History of Broadcasting in the United Kingdom, little had been written about broadcasting in Britain.5 Today, much of the scholarship relating to the BBC concerns itself with the period 1922 to 1945 and then INTRODUCTION 11 with the ‘serious’ side of the Corporation’s output. A general sense of the history and work of the Variety Department might be pieced together from existing but scattered secondary sources, but it would create only a partial and limited picture of the Department.6 This book sets out to rem- edy this. Full bibliographic details of secondary source material consulted are listed at the end of each chapter and in the Further Reading section. Historical research into the Variety Department is not extensive, and while authors have touched on the subject in monographs, book chapters and a number of innovative articles, there has been no specific enquiry into its history and work. This book builds on and adds greater detail to what is available through the use of largely unseen primary source material from the BBC’s Written Archive Centre. It provides a unique insight into a little researched programme-making department of the BBC. It sheds new light on the work of the Department particularly in the post-war period, an era which remains largely unexplored by media historians. It also serves as microcosm of the activity within BBC radio programme-making departments to help understand the upheaval within the BBC from the mid- 1950s as radio struggled to find a role as it was being overwhelmed by television. I hope that I have captured at least some of the Variety Department’s excitement, particularly its chaos and overwork, the sense of the last minute, the urgency, the inter-departmental rivalries and the complaints, criticisms and edicts sent down from above.

Notes 1. HV—Head of Variety; HLE (S)—Head of Light Entertainment (Sound); HAR—Head of Audience Research; AHLMP (S)—Assistant Head of Light Music Programmes (Sound); HCat—Head of Catering; ASEBOB— Assistant Superintendent Engineer, Sound Broadcasting, Outside Broadcasts; MOLE(S)—Music Organiser, Light Entertainment (Sound). A full list of abbreviations appeared at the end of each BBC Staff List. 2. For histories of variety in Britain, see for example, Roger Wilmut, Kindly Leave the Stage! The Story of Variety 1919–1960, London, 1985 and Oliver Double, Britain Had Talent, Basingstoke, 2012. 3. The principal files groups used are listed in the Further Reading section at the end of this book together with secondary and other primary sources not cited in the chapters. 4. For a study of women at the BBC during the 1920s and 1930s, see Kate Murphy, Behind the Wireless: A History of Early Women at the BBC, London, 2016. 12 M. DIBBS

5. Among the earliest books on the BBC and broadcasting in Britain are those written by the founding members of staff of the British Broadcasting Company: A. R. Burrows, The Story of Broadcasting, London, 1924; C. A. Lewis, Broadcasting From Within, London, 1924; and J.C.W. Reith, Broadcast Over Britain, London, 1924. Maurice Gorham’s Broadcasting and Television Since 1900, London, 1952, is probably the earliest history of broadcasting in Britain and provides a broad sweep up to c. 1950. 6. Information about the Variety Department is included in the works of some authors writing generally about BBC history, but it is Barry Took’s Laughter in the Air: An Informal History of Radio Comedy, London, 1976, which comes closest to being a history of the work of the Department with its central focus being on artists and programmes and, to a lesser extent, producers and administrators. Andy Foster and Steve Furst’s Radio Comedy 1938–1968, London, 1996, is a useful reference work cataloguing the most popular programmes of the Variety Department’s comedy output which includes the cast, scriptwriters, production credits and transmission details of programmes from the 1930s to the 1960s. There are also a number of autobiographies and biographies of radio writers, artists and former BBC staff associated with the Variety Department as well as books about specific radio programmes. These are either cited in the text or appear in the Sources and Further Reading section. CHAPTER 2

1922–1933: Variety Before Variety

The Dawn of Radio Entertainment Broadcasting in Britain started before the establishment of the BBC.1 Experimental broadcasts of speech and music from the Marconi Company’s station at Chelmsford, Essex, began in January 1920. While these were for the purpose of testing transmitters, they were also used to gauge public interest in broadcasting and were welcomed by amateur radio enthusiasts. The broadcast of the opera singer Dame Nellie Melba on 15 June 1920 was significant as the major broadcasting event to date. It was arranged by Lord Northcliffe of the Daily Mail, and the broadcast was heard by an estimated 10,000 listeners throughout Europe and as far away as Newfoundland. Of the occasion, H.M. Dowsett, then Chief of the Testing Department of the Marconi Company, wrote:

The renown of the singer, the world-wide attention which was given to her performance, the great distance at which good reception was obtained, all combined to give the Melba concert the atmosphere of a great initiation ceremony, and the era of broadcasting for the public amusement…may be said to have completed its trials and to have been definitely launched on its meteoric career from this date.2

This broadcast captured the listening public’s imagination and demonstrated that broadcasting had the potential to become a form of

mass-entertainment. While these experiments continued, there was a delay in the development of a public radio service in Britain mainly because of objections by the armed forces, concerned about interference to military transmissions. Consequently, broadcasts from Chelmsford were suspended in November 1920. However, petitions to the Post Office from the bur- geoning amateur radio community eventually led to the reintroduction of regular broadcasts. The first officially sanctioned broadcasting service began in February 1922 from an unprepossessing former Army hut on Marconi’s Writtle site (call sign 2MT) on the outskirts of Chelmsford. These pioneering broadcasts were made at 7 pm every Tuesday evening for a half-hour, and in May 1922 Writtle was joined by another Marconi experimental station (2LO) at Marconi House in the Strand, London. The broadcasts from Writtle ran until January 1923 and comprised gramophone records, stories, news and live musical and dramatic performances organised by Captain P.P. Eckersley, Head of Marconi’s Experimental Section. Eckersley was a natural entertainer and arguably the first radio star. When he began to talk informally one evening instead of playing records, the small listening audience responded with enthusiasm. R.T.B. Wynn, a former Marconi employee and later Chief Engineer of the BBC, recalled that rudimentary programme planning:

was done at the ‘Cock and Bell’ up the road, about half an hour before- hand…But our star was Eckersley. He’d go up to the microphone, and apparently without effort, be spontaneously funny for ten minutes at a time. He talked to our listeners as if he’d lived next door to them for years, and they loved it.3

Eckersley subsequently became the BBC’s first Chief Engineer but resigned in May 1929 following an affair with Dorothy Clark, estranged wife of Edward Clark of the Corporation’s Music Department. The landmark development in early broadcasting came in 1922 when the Post Office—anxious to avoid the American experience of lack of control over allocation of wavelengths leading to too many stations drowning each other out—invited the leading radio manufacturers to form a broadcasting partnership whose service it was hoped would encourage sales of wireless sets.4 Following an initial meeting of the manufacturers in May 1922, it was agreed that the six largest manufacturers would form a committee to decide on organising and running the service. Their subsequent discussions 1922–1933: VARIETY BEFORE VARIETY 15 held between May and July 1922 led to the formation of the British Broadcasting Company which was granted a monopoly of broadcasting in Britain in October 1922. Each of the ‘Big Six’ contributed £10,000 towards the authorised £100,000 capital with the remainder being provided by smaller companies. In addition to the share capital, the Company was financed through a licencing system in which each household was required to buy an annual licence, issued by the Post Office on behalf of the BBC. Manufacturers also paid the Company a royalty on each wireless set sold which had to be of an approved type. The Company commenced broadcasting from Magnet House, the offices of the General Electric Company, in London’s Kingsway (call sign 2LO) on 14 November 1922. The following day broadcasting began from Birmingham (5IT) and Manchester (2ZY). Newcastle (5NO) followed in December, Cardiff (5WA) in February 1923, Glasgow (5SC) in March, Aberdeen (2BD) and Bournemouth (6BM) in October and Belfast (2BE) and Nottingham (5NG) in September 1924. Initially, the broadcasting day was short, beginning in mid-afternoon and lasting for about seven hours. In April 1923 the Company moved to larger premises in Savoy Hill which was to be its home until the opening of Broadcasting House in 1932.5 In the early years of broadcasting, the audience would ‘listen-in’ to the BBC mainly through headphones using a crystal set. Crystal sets, the sim- plest and cheapest form of receiver, could be purchased or made for between £2 and £4, but the quality of reception was dependent on signal strength and atmospheric conditions. The valve wireless with its loudspeaker was expensive at £20, but by the mid-1920s, with the growing popularity of wireless listening, its cost had dropped considerably as more models came on to the market. Radio design changed from being purely functional, basically box-like or in a cabinet, to a distinctive piece of living room furniture. At this time radio construction established itself as a national pastime, and plans and instructions appeared in a growing number of specialist magazines. A cheaper alternative to owning a receiver was to rent a loudspeaker from a relay exchange to which programmes would be fed from a central point. Although sound quality was good and the subscriber was not subject to maintenance charges, listeners had no choice in the programmes broadcast by the exchange operators. Subscriber numbers rose from 446 in 1927 to 130,998 in 1933 and reached 270,596 by December 1939.6 This system enjoyed popularity from the mid-1920s until the war but was only financially viable in areas of high population. Relay exchanges were opposed by all the main parties concerned. The Post 16 M. DIBBS

Office, who had to issue them with a licence, felt that it infringed its monopoly, the manufacturers felt that they were being deprived of radio sales and the BBC thought that exchanges also threatened its monopoly by transmitting foreign stations as well as their own. Broadcasting grew swiftly. A sense of the popularity of early radio may be gained from some figures. Between 1923 and 1933 the numbers of wireless licences held rose from 595,496 to 5,973,758.7 The cost of a wireless licence was 10s.0d. (£0.50) which represented a fifth of the average weekly wage of £2 10s.0d. (£2.50). By 1933 it was estimated that half the nation’s households owned radios. Radio Times, first published on 28 September 1923, achieved average weekly net sales of 800,000 copies during its first 15 months, rising to almost two million by 1933. Magazines for radio construction enthusiasts also had huge circulations: the weekly Popular Wireless and Modern Wireless were each selling 125,000 copies in the autumn of 1924, while Amateur Wireless and Wireless achieved sales of 100,000 and 150,000, respectively.8

John Reith: Architect of the BBC Radio’s rise to prominence was achieved under the guidance of John Reith who, by his own admission, did not know what broadcasting was when he applied for the job of General Manager of the British Broadcasting Company. He was a Scots engineer of Calvinist conviction and high moral standards which were not consistently reflected in his personal life.9 Reith led the organisation both as a private company and a public corporation from his appointment in 1922 until he resigned in 1938. Little was known about the potential of radio or what its effects would be on society and, with limited experience in the area of programme production and little knowledge of the audience and its tastes, radio was very much a tabula rasa at this time. As Reith observed: ‘There were no sealed orders to open. The commission was of the scantiest nature’.10 Under his leadership, an ethos for public service broadcasting in Britain was established which would have far-reaching effects on broadcasting. Reith was probably the single most influential individual in radio broadcasting anywhere. His book, Broadcast Over Britain, which was written after just 18 months in office, is imbued with a strong moral purpose and sets out his personal manifesto for broadcasting. For Reith, broadcasting had the potential to become a huge national asset—a means of diffusing knowledge and culture to all throughout society rather than just for the 1922–1933: VARIETY BEFORE VARIETY 17 privileged. Such an improving medium for the nation could only be brought about through the creation of a monopolistic body financed by a licence fee with a strong public service ethic to enable it to act in the national interest. It would be distant from government to ensure its inde- pendence and free from commercial pressures in order to maintain the conditions necessary for the creation of high-quality programming. In March 1924 Reith articulated the broad policies of the BBC and public service broadcasting as being:

to entertain, to interest, to enlighten in all these ways to bring the very best of everything and to spare no effort to do it, to the greatest possible number; to aim always at the highest standards in every line of achievement in whatever direction it may be; to exert our every endeavour to secure that the broadcasting service is looked to as giving the best that there is; that the amusement or instruction it provides may be as universally acceptable as possible to young and old.11

The Company did not simply want its listeners to keep to the safety of the familiar rather it wanted them to experience the full range of its output. Reith believed that the more open listeners were to new interests, the better he would be able to provide something for everyone. Consequently, ‘mixed programming’ was offered, that is, scattering programmes throughout the broadcasting schedule rather than offering the same or similar programmes at the same or a similar time every day or week, in order to surprise the audience and arouse their curiosity with unfamiliar and interesting topics. Radio required careful management if its potential was not to be wasted purely on entertaining the public. Reith possessed an idealistic notion of what the public should be given and believed that the Company should lead public taste rather than be driven by it. He saw broadcasting as a form of cultural paternalism:

It is occasionally indicated to us that we are apparently setting out to give the public what we think they need – and not what they want, but very few know what they want, and very few what they need…In any case it is better to overestimate the mentality of the public than to underestimate it.12

However, while Reith developed the concept of public service broadcasting in Britain, he was not the first to hold these views. The American broadcasting pioneer David Sarnoff had already set out the parameters in a letter of 17 June 1922 to a director of RCA: 18 M. DIBBS

I think that the principal elements of broadcasting service are entertainment, information and education, with emphasis on the first feature – entertainment: although not underestimating the importance of the other two elements…broadcasting represents a job of entertaining, informing and educating the nation and should, therefore, be distinctly regarded as a public service.13

Sarnoff’s aspirations were taken up by Reith, but with a different emphasis. Reith’s mission was the cultural enlightenment of Britain by informing and educating the population, particularly those of limited education and poor social background, and only lastly to entertain. He was not opposed to broadcast entertainment and encouraged it as an antidote to the humdrum and stressful nature of daily life, but the audience was expecting too much if it wanted to be continually entertained; besides, they would soon grow tired of a single diet:

To entertain means to occupy agreeably. Would it be urged that this is only to be effected by the broadcasting of jazz bands and popular music, or of sketches by humorists?14

Maurice Gorham, one-time editor of Radio Times, had definite ideas about Reith’s attitude towards the radio audience and entertainment generally:

Personally I believe that Reith suffered increasingly from a subconscious horror lest the listener should have too good a time. Giving pleasure to the ungodly was not among his objectives for the BBC. If they liked it too much, it could not be doing its job.15

While the public focused on radio as a source of entertainment, the Company recognised the potential of broadcasting as a means of disseminating ideas and values on a scale hitherto unknown, believing that if high culture was made available to the public, it would welcome it.

Early Programme-Making and Criticism With the growth of the radio audience, but no information on numbers or programme popularity, the programme makers had little to guide them in building a schedule which would accommodate all tastes. Programme- making was a matter of guesswork and trial and error and relied heavily on 1922–1933: VARIETY BEFORE VARIETY 19 the producer’s own experiences and their assumptions about the audience. While the BBC had a policy of trying to please everyone, it was quickly realised that programme output would always be subject to criticism from someone. The listening public was kept informed of the Company’s policies and contemporary broadcasting topics through Radio Times. In December 1923 it sought the views of some prominent figures in public life in an unrepresentative test of opinion of the Company’s output. By and large they felt that the BBC was doing a good job. For example, Viscount Burnham felt that the majority ‘wished to be amused rather than preached at…[but] appreciate[d] a judicious mixture of seriousness with their entertainment’. Sir Landon Ronald, the composer and conductor, while desiring less dance music, recognised the diversity of tastes among the radio audience. He thought the BBC had been successful so far and, presaging what Reith would write later, believed ‘it was up to the broadcasting company to give us the very best they can’. J.R. Clynes, Labour MP for Manchester North East, viewed broadcasting as an institution for culture and learning for the deprived and not exclusively for entertainment.16 As programming developed so did the internal mechanisms for its regulation. From May 1924 the Programme Board (later Committee) met on a weekly basis to consider broadcast output five weeks in advance and later to review and evaluate the previous week’s broadcasts and reflect on critical response and listener correspondence. Programmes became more ambitious, but despite the outward signs of success, there was concern from within the Company about programme standards and the availability of quality material to broadcast. This brought an immediate response from the top, and the problem was seen as being caused by inexperience, rigidity of scheduling and lack of rehearsal time. Arthur Burrows, Director of Programmes, welcomed the Controller’s suggestion for the provision of more musical vocal items:

a really good glee party or small choir of men’s voices can entertain when all else fails. How deeply seated is this love of pure harmony in all classes can be judged by the attempts at part-singing that are frequently heard in football crowds, amongst troops or even public-house corners – whenever a few men assemble together.17

At this time, much of the audience could only receive a single station which had to cater for all tastes. Determining audience preferences was a 20 M. DIBBS difficult task, and the expressions ‘highbrow’, ‘lowbrow’ and ‘middlebrow’ came into increased usage around this time. Inevitably there were links to class, and these terms were used to describe types of listener as well as the cultural hierarchy. ‘Highbrow’ was synonymous with discriminating listeners and high culture. ‘Middlebrow’ was associated with cultural aspiration, comprising a group which Punch magazine described satirically as being ‘people who are hoping that some day they will get used to the stuff they ought to like’.18 ‘Lowbrow’ referred to the uncultivated masses and populism. In 1924, Norman Edwards, editor of Popular Wireless, captured the early sense of the radio audience in describing the lowbrows and highbrows as ‘difficult folk’ opposed to each other’s tastes, while the middlebrows were ‘amiable and broadminded’. The highbrows, with an air of superiority, characterised the lowbrows as only wanting jazz, comedy and light music, while to the lowbrows, the highbrows were welcome to their classical and modern music. By contrast, the middlebrows preferred a mixture of popular and classical music which Edwards considered the BBC provided. He felt that the middlebrows were now in the majority after the Company had gently encouraged listeners to appreciate ‘good class music’ and that ‘the protests from the staunch low-brows have eased up considerably’.19 This would not always prove to be the case. For the first few years of broadcasting, radio was a novelty and functioned more as a hobby. Many listeners focused more on building and improving their radios and quality of reception rather than programme content. The audience was typically male, comprising amateur radio builders and enthusiasts together with those fascinated by, and wanting to experience, the new phenomenon of radio. However, women gradually became an increasingly important section of the audience as listening developed into a backdrop to domestic life. As radio embedded itself within the culture of the nation, the audience became more critical of the content and quality of programmes. For a while in the mid-1920s, the Company employed listeners to report on and make suggestions regarding programme content, but this system was discontinued in 1927. Reith was not opposed to programme criticism and he welcomed it from both the industry and the listening public. In April 1924 he had written to the Company’s member firms:

We endeavour to cater for all tastes in our programmes…Will you be good enough to send us…any NOTES ON PROGRAMMES…We are anxious to do our best by the trade, and in your business you come into touch with the 1922–1933: VARIETY BEFORE VARIETY 21

public to such an extent as would make your comments most useful…We shall welcome criticisms no matter how drastic but please make them constructive and as brief as possible.20

That year, the Company set up a Programme Correspondence Section and its postbag grew from 20,000 to 60,000 letters a year by 1927.21 Critical response from the wireless audience particularly over the provision of light entertainment was already becoming a burning issue, and the Radio Times frequently published articles concerning programmes and programme policy. The first edition of the magazine carried a letter of complaint about too many highbrow programmes and a plea for more of a majority taste. Later another complainant requested more music hall and other humorous broadcasts. A regular contributor to the journal thought that the standard of vaudeville was good but could be improved. He suggested that each act ‘should be severely tested at the microphone before being let loose on the air’. A satisfied listener thought that ‘for all my grumblings, our wireless programmes are excellent – if only you use them the right way’. It is difficult to deduce from these opinions how widespread these views on broadcast light entertainment were at the time. Programme criticism also came from specialist wireless organisations and societies which had been formed to serve the interests of two broad groups: the technically minded and the listening public. The Wireless League, which represented the views of listeners, frequently submitted programme reports to the BBC. It recommended that light entertainment should prevail in the schedules. The Wireless Organisations Advisory Committee reported that this was in fact the case. Music was responsible for 70 per cent of total wireless output, of which 55 per cent comprised light, popular and dance music, while variety and drama was 6 per cent of total programme content. The situation was more positive a year later when the Wireless League reported that:

the programmes broadcast during the period under examination have met with a greater measure of approval than any on which we have previously reported. Complaints are less frequent and criticism is of a more definite and helpful character. The public appreciates the evident desire of the BBC to remove causes of complaint, but demands for an alteration of the Sunday programme continues to be received.22

While there were complaints about a preponderance of ‘syncopated items’, an increase in variety and vaudeville was welcomed, although the 22 M. DIBBS standard was described as inconsistent. The Company’s Board, once they began listening to the audience, realised that Reith’s public service broadcasting ethos was becoming a focus of disquiet and concluded that it was operating an excessively highbrow programme policy. Early in 1925, W. Witt Burnham, a director of the Company, intervened and wrote to Reith suggesting that there should be a greater proportion of lighter entertainment programmes broadcast in the evenings instead of those with a high intellectual content. Nothing much happened as a result of Burnham’s intervention, and in December 1925 he again expressed concern to Reith concerning shortcomings in output and summarised the main criticisms complaining of:

too much education, too many lectures and matters of that sort…too many uninteresting items, such as Elizabethan music, newfangled songs, weird quartettes and quintettes, groaning Chamber Music quite unappreciated by the public, readings from unknown poets etc…also talks on subjects which are of no interest to 99% of the listeners…Too short a programme on Sunday evenings.23

Burnham and fellow director Basil Binyan attended some Programme Board meetings where they produced letters of complaint about programmes from radio retailers. While Burnham believed that there was too much nightly variation in programmes, he was impressed by the enthusiasm of the programme staff. The Company defended its programme policy and made no apology for ‘sixteenth century and “futurist” music: a certain amount of this should be included, and the Programme Board does not feel it is being overdone in any way’.24 A programme analysis for the months of October and November 1925 supported the notion that popular entertainment was strongly featured in the BBC’s schedules. Popular music, including the categories of orchestra or band with songs, entertainers, instrument solos, musical comedy, revue, star entertainers and celebrity, and restaurant and cinema music represented 30.7 and 23.96 per cent for those two months respectively. The corresponding figures for dance music were 6.62 and 11.51 per cent.25 Following this, there was no further representation concerning programmes from the directors for the remainder of the company’s life. With the BBC showing increasing expertise and growing confidence in programme-making, listeners were reminded that owing to the diverse nature of the audience they could not expect to be constantly entertained 1922–1933: VARIETY BEFORE VARIETY 23 but had to accept a balance in broadcast output. In 1928 the Radio Times explained to its readers that only the BBC was equipped with the capacity to meet the programme needs of the radio audience:

There is nothing that an outside organisation could provide that is not already available to the programme builders of the BBC and while advice and suggestions are always warmly welcomed, no ideas have come from outside which have not already appeared within the organisation itself and been considered, adopted or rejected…[and despite occasional criticisms the audience’s interests were]…conscientiously and jealously guarded by the BBC in its task of entertaining, amusing and cultivating. There is no hour or minute which is employed in any other way than in giving the best that is possible.26

A benevolent paternalism was making itself more apparent: it was clear that the Company knew best and it would lead rather than be dictated to on matters of public taste. Filson Young, a programme adviser, consistently urged the audience to adopt a more cerebral approach to listening. In his first weekly column for Radio Times, he put the blame firmly on the listeners if they were unhappy with the programmes. They needed to be more discriminating in their choice of programmes and to concentrate when listening. He lambasted them:

many of you have not even begun to master the art of listening; you have not even begun to try…The arch-fault of the average listener is that he does not select.27

In this Young was complaining about the listener who switched the radio on and left it on all day. This ‘tap’, or non-discriminating, listening was eschewed by the BBC who offered tips on good listening and in upper-case type for emphasis:

LISTEN AS CAREFULLY AT HOME AS YOU DO IN A THEATRE OR CONCERT HALL. YOU CAN’T GET THE BEST OUT OF A PROGRAMME IF YOUR MIND IS WANDERING, OR IF YOU ARE PLAYING BRIDGE OR READING…IF YOU LISTEN WITH HALF AN EAR YOU HAVEN’T A QUARTER OF A RIGHT TO CRITICISE.28

Clearly the Corporation was encouraging listeners to be more discerning in their listening habits and reminding them of the necessity to 24 M. DIBBS

concentrate on the programmes and not to use the radio simply as a background noise to daily domestic life. This was advice frequently repeated throughout the 1930s.

First-Generation Radio Artists The first radio variety programme to be broadcast,Veterans of Variety, was transmitted on 30 January 1923. Most artists were poorly paid, and the established stars of music hall and variety theatre were too costly to employ regularly, even if they were permitted to broadcast by their managements. The Company therefore looked for alternatives, frequently employing amateur groups and individuals who were cheaper than professional entertainers, including BBC employees and their friends who could be trusted to provide acceptable, if not high-quality, entertainment. Many of the acts employed at this time were of the concert party type which had its roots in seaside entertainment, comprising a number of musical and comedy acts performed by members of the same company. The first concert party created especially for radio was Radio Radiance which initially broadcast on 6 July 1925. This form of entertainment maintained its popularity into the war years. Among the earliest and most popular artists was Helena Millais who created radio’s first comedy characterOur Lizzie and first broadcast a week after the BBC opened. In her publicity material, Helena Millais said of her character:

She may be telling you of her visit to a West End theatre, or her lost ’and- bag, or her shopping at Woolworth’s on Saturday night but whatever she does she is…one of the truest cockney types ever put on the stage. She is LONDON. Lizzie is deservedly one of the most popular characters ever broadcast.

Norman Long, who made his debut on 28 November 1922, a fortnight after the BBC had gone on air, was one of the first variety artists to appear on the radio. He specialised in comic songs to his own piano accompaniment. In the theatre he was billed as ‘a song, a smile and a piano’. When appearing for the BBC, the word ‘smile’ was replaced with ‘joke’ on the basis that a smile could not be seen on the radio. John Henry, the stage-name of Norman Clapham, played a lugubrious Yorkshireman and made his initial broadcast on 31 May 1923. With his catch phrases and 1922–1933: VARIETY BEFORE VARIETY 25 domestic tiffs with his wife Blossom, his rise to national fame was due entirely to radio. However, radio’s first big star was civil servant Leslie Harrison Lambert who broadcast under the pseudonym A.J. Alan between 1924 and 1940. To the radio audience, he was a mystery man and his true identity remained secret throughout his career. He specialised in telling humorous stories, beginning each of his broadcasts with the words ‘Good evening everyone’, and was the first artist to master the art of creating an intimacy between the broadcaster and the listener. He restricted his broadcasts to about five a year in order to both protect his privacy and keep the public wanting more. His stories appeared in the press and magazines and were later published in two volumes.29 Mabel Constanduros created the Buggins Family which was initially aired on 1 September 1925 and ran regularly until 1948. Much to her surprise, she achieved national fame. During the war the Ministry of Food used her Mrs Buggins character to broadcast recipes. She also appeared on commercial radio as well as in drama and films and played an important role in establishing and defining the style of British radio comedy. Ronald Frankau, an Old Etonian, was a cabaret entertainer who wrote much of his own material. He first broadcast in 1925. As a recording artist, much of his Parlophone output was considered too risqué for broadcasting although it was reported that in 1932 his recordings sold in excess of 100,000 copies. When he toned down his act, he became a frequent broadcaster and a favourite of John Reith. He teamed up with Tommy Handley in 1930 to form probably the first radio double-act ‘North and South’, which in 1934 became ‘Murgatroyd and Winterbottom’. Stainless Stephen, the alter ego of Arthur Clifford Baynes, began his career as a teacher and became a music hall entertainer after the First World War. He made his first broadcasts from Sheffield in January 1923 and nationally in May 1925. His trade- mark act normally comprised monologues and comments on current affairs both of which included spoken punctuation. In 1932 he was voted the most popular entertainer on radio and continued to broadcast into the mid-1950s. Other popular radio entertainers of the period were the duo Clapham and Dwyer, Leonard Henry and Gillie Potter. The first comedians, in the accepted sense of the word to broadcast, included Will Hay, Rob Wilton and Tommy Handley. Handley was to achieve national stardom during the Second World War with the radio show It’s That Man Again better known as ITMA. All these artists had what the Company wanted, the capability to connect with and entertain an unseen audience. Despite changes in public 26 M. DIBBS taste, some of these pioneering artists were able to sustain their careers into the 1950s. Although many are now forgotten, this does not diminish their importance as performers who laid the foundations for popular entertainment on radio to be built upon by succeeding generations of radio artists.

Early Organisation of Light Entertainment Light entertainment was present in the BBC’s schedules from the very start of broadcasting, although there was no specific department for the production of popular entertainment or variety. From the mid-1920s, light entertainment programmes were made under the auspices of the Productions Department under its Director R.E. Jeffrey whose experience lay in drama. At this time there were very few within the organisation experienced in the whole spectrum of popular entertainment. However, in January 1926 Bertram Fryer, a former actor, producer and theatrical manager, transferred from the post of Station Director in Bournemouth to London, in order to concentrate on music hall and variety productions. There he joined John Sharman, a producer since 1925, who explained that there were two different types of variety entertainment:

one was in the more intimate style with well-known instrumentalists and the quieter type of sketches and entertainers. In the other type we included singers of popular songs and the broader type of comedian. One was called Variety and the other Vaudeville.30

That there was departmental rivalry in these formative years was made clear by Lionel Fielden, a member of the Talks Department:

At Savoy Hill…we were short of staff and money, and there was violent and healthy competition between the various ‘departments’. ‘Talks’ thought that ‘Variety’ was vulgar: ‘Variety’ thought that ‘Talks’ should not exist: ‘Talks’ and ‘Variety’ thought that ‘Music’ over the microphone was hope- less: ‘Sport’ seemed an odious frivolity: as for ‘Drama’ –well, I ask you, plays which you could not see!31

The Company thought of light entertainment largely in terms of its traditional setting within the variety theatre and music hall, and producers had the task of transferring artists who had developed in these spheres to a live audience in radio. Not all popular artists could make the transition, 1922–1933: VARIETY BEFORE VARIETY 27 and Radio Times articulated the fine line between success and failure for radio artists, ‘when broadcasting, you are aiming not at the great auditorium but at thousands of individual sitting rooms’.32 With its sound-only format, radio variety was broadly limited to song and speech which inevitably translated into singers, comedians, instrumentalists and impression- ists. The BBC was continually searching for either established performers or those with the potential to be moulded into radio artists. It frequently made appeals for more ‘turns’ and the BBC Year Book 1933 advised:

There is always room, too, for “speciality instrumentalists”, whistlers, ventriloquists and artists with other out-of-the-way gifts, for vaudeville programmes must be balanced.33

It was estimated that during the late 1920s and early 1930s, between 1500 and 2000 auditions per year were arranged, of which less than one per cent met the standard required. In 1931, while the BBC published an impressive list of artists who had broadcast, only 123 new variety acts were introduced against the estimated 300 required for the year.34 Auditions played only a peripheral role in the search for new talent, and in 1933 they were reported as taking up a great deal of producers’ time while only real- ising about five per cent of suitable artists. The BBC’s policy of trying not to over-expose successful acts for fear they would grow stale with the public added to this problem. The Company’s ability to produce popular entertainment programmes was also influenced by the attitudes of those who ran the entertainment industry. While the BBC was anxious to broadcast live from variety theatres and music halls, few within the organisation had any notion of the workings of show business at this time. From the mid-1920s, the BBC experienced an acrimonious relationship with various theatre and artist managements. With the music hall and variety theatre facing competition from the cinema, there was a hostile attitude towards radio which was seen as another threat to audience numbers. Radio’s potential to bring artists to the notice of a nationwide audience, make them household names and thereby improve box office receipts was not immediately realised by the entertainment industry whose managements would insert clauses into their artists’ contracts prohibiting them from broadcasting. Many artists refused to broadcast because they claimed their material which might have lasted for years, once used on radio, would be unusable on stage. An estimated 50 per cent of artists including George Robey and Ted Ray were 28 M. DIBBS contractually prevented from broadcasting by music hall and theatre managements. Some not under contract were coerced into declining the offer of broadcasts by threats of an embargo on their stage appearances. Others such as Sir Harry Lauder and Gracie Fields, two very big stars who could afford to defy powerful theatrical interests, saw radio as enhancing their careers and accepted broadcasts.35 Between 1923 and 1925, outside broadcasts from theatres and music halls were proscribed by the Entertainment Protection Association, a con- federation designed to protect theatrical interests from the threat of broadcasting. However, in 1925 the BBC formalised its relationship with the major entertainment organisations through membership of the Entertainment Organisations Joint Broadcasting Committee. This agreement was intended to remove obstacles to broadcasting for variety artists but did not include the Variety Artists Federation, a body implacably opposed to its artists making broadcasts. By March, a campaign against the BBC had begun by Sir Oswald Stoll of Moss Empires and Charles Gulliver of London Theatres of Variety Ltd. The Entertainment Protection Association demanded that the entertainment industry should either be allowed to broadcast from a station of its own or control variety broadcasting from the BBC’s studios. Neither of these ideas was acceptable to the Company nor was a proposal from George Black of the General Theatre Corporation (GTC) to assume responsibility for all its variety programmes. To accede to this would have meant the BBC losing a significant part of its output and control over the content. In 1928 Gerald Cock, Director of Outside Broadcasts and one of the few people in the BBC with in-depth knowledge of show business, was anxious to begin any sort of variety broadcasts. He arranged a series of organ recitals by Reginald Foort from the London Palladium in con- junction with George Black. However, these recitals ceased after an injunction was obtained against the Palladium due to sound leakage which interfered with the work of the Marlborough Street Police Court. The GTC was now unable to perform the terms of their contract, but as a friendly gesture, Cock waived the remainder of the contract and, as a result, was subsequently successful in arranging for a series of variety broadcasts from the theatre from October 1928. Walter Payne, Chairman of the Society of West End Theatre Managers, tried to stop these broadcasts, but Black argued that his actions were in accordance with an earlier agreement of 1927 and that as the GTC were one of the major players in the entertainment world, their collaboration with the BBC 1922–1933: VARIETY BEFORE VARIETY 29 was essential. Managements gradually realised that artists who had become famous through radio had a value to them, not only since the public came to see these artists in a live show but also because there was the potential for increased audiences if they permitted extracts from their shows to be broadcast. In 1929, following a successful approach to the BBC from Sir Oswald Stoll regarding the possibility of broadcasting from his Alhambra and Coliseum theatres, the radio audience was able to hear many well-known stage artists. With Black and Stoll on board, the BBC could then claim that it had little difficulty in engaging leading performers for radio. It subsequently celebrated George Black as someone ‘who at once grasped the possibilities of broadcasting, and by his ready co-operation contributed in no small measure to the successful development of the present system’.36 As acrimony turned to harmony, the BBC could look forward to being able to broadcast using a combination of its own stars together with those of show business and thereby continue to control its output.

Cleaning Up Its Act With the BBC’s policies and ethical standards in programming at an evolutionary stage, it was the managerial and production staff with their almost exclusively middle-class backgrounds, education and opinions who would mould the Company’s culture. Preserving a high moral standard was paramount to Reith, and while there was no written policy on the suitability of variety material for broadcasting, this did not mean that there was no policy. The BBC assumed the guardianship of the nation’s morality and developed an over-sensitivity towards causing any sort of offence to its listeners. It was this imperative which characterised the majority of the organisation’s first 45 years. Policy evolved based on, and in response to, internal whim or public murmuring, typically either a strongly worded memo from a senior member of staff who had heard something untoward on the wireless the previous night or a letter from an offended or outraged listener. The BBC’s general sense of concern was captured in 1932 by Norman Long, a regular broadcaster, in his light-hearted song We Can’t Let You Broadcast That. It satirised the BBC’s attitude towards songs which it felt could not be broadcast without causing offence to certain sections of the radio audience. After a brief spoken introduction, he sings a light-hearted song to his own accompaniment, gently mocking the BBC: 30 M. DIBBS

Now the BBC once wrote to me and said, “Dear Norman Long, We thought you’d like to face the mike with your piano, smile and song. So will you bring your repertoire along for us to see? To go over it with a pencil of the blue variety.”37

From there, things go downhill fast with each verse indicating more restrictions for the artist. Long deliberately exaggerates the BBC’s reasons for the banning of each song which increases his frustration as even the most innocuous topic has the potential to offend. The impression con- veyed is that if this attitude were followed to its logical conclusion, no song would ever be broadcast. For example, Long’s suggestion of a song about violets was considered to be ‘blue’, another concerning Robin Adair would cause offence to bald men and The Volga Boatmen’s Song was definitely out. Each verse ends with the comment from the BBC, ‘We can’t let you broadcast that!’ Unsurprisingly the song was banned, not because it contained any offensive material but because it lampooned BBC culture and its fear of controversy. However, Long personally did not receive a ban, and this episode did not affect his radio career as he continued to broadcast up to 1950. Although the BBC’s early influences incorporated the music hall and variety theatre as an element in programme design, it recognised that radio listeners were different to variety theatre audiences, who would attend in expectation of far lower standards of propriety. Reflecting on this experience some years later, Roger Eckersley, former Director of Entertainment, wrote:

We are caterers for all and sundry, and have to be correspondingly careful and its true enough that a jest in doubtful taste heard in the parlour, within the bosom of the family, has a different effect from the same joke heard by a lot of happy people in the atmosphere of the Music Hall.38

With little knowledge of the composition and tastes of its audience, the policy of the BBC towards light entertainment, and humour in particular, was to avoid broadcasting material which was thought might offend even a minority of the audience. Consequently, they made certain assumptions about audience preferences and tried to provide for most tastes without causing offence. As early as January 1923, complaints regarding a comedian’s vulgarity, together with the advertising of the Marconi Company, led to artists 1922–1933: VARIETY BEFORE VARIETY 31 being required to undertake not to broadcast anything uncouth or to engage in advertising. Two years later, artists were handed a mimeo- graphed sheet which set out the proscribed topic areas for broadcasting. These were advertising, biblical quotations and clerical impersonations together with references to drink, the Prohibition, vulgar or doubtful matter or political references. In addition, all scripted matter had to be submitted seven days prior to broadcasting. Blasphemy was a source of concern and during the first live rugby broadcast in January 1927, fearful of an over-enthusiastic commentator, a card was propped up against the commentary microphone which simply said ‘don’t swear’. The following year the Productions Director had to warn against the use in programmes of ‘quite unnecessary epithets such as “Damn” and “My God” and others which are offensive to many ears’.39 Jack Payne, Director of the BBC Dance Orchestra between 1928 and 1932, recalled the innocence and uncomplicated nature of the system he experienced which embraced the principal areas of controversy:

Things were much easier at the beginning of broadcasting; we hadn’t discovered all the traps into which even a simple comedy number in a band show might lead us…new artistes were just handed a card. It said: “NO GAGS ON SCOTSMEN, WELSHMEN, CLERGYMEN, DRINK OR MEDICAL MATTERS. DO NOT SNEEZE AT THE MICROPHONE”.40

Payne also recalled that he regularly received a list headed ‘Censored – Not to be Broadcast’ and that the list could sometimes be complicated, but if it could not be scrupulously followed there was no immediate pun- ishment; this was not always true for other artists.

The Trans-Atlantic Octopus The development and growth of British broadcasting took place against a background of rising American influence in British life. Britain had emerged from the First World War weakened economically and politically. With America’s new-found confidence and its cultural ascendency, there was concern during the inter-war period that British culture was being increasingly influenced in public and domestic entertainment and was in danger of being swamped. Britain responded in a number of ways. For the cinema it was protection. As British-made films shown in British cinemas declined to just five per cent by 1926, the Cinematograph Film Act 1927 32 M. DIBBS required British cinemas to show a quota of British films rising incremen- tally from 7.5 per cent to 20 per cent over a period of ten years. With dancing, the response to Americanisation came through regulation. The dance craze of the 1920s brought with it an influx of American popular dances. Their exaggerated character and free-style nature made dance teaching difficult, and to counteract this, dance teachers created professional bodies to standardise steps and tempi. Standards were raised by the introduction of certification for dance teachers and the establishment of dance competitions. Reith had firm ideas about American commercial radio and the use of American English on the BBC. To him it presented a serious threat to programme standards, and he had quickly made up his mind about American broadcasting which he articulated in Broadcast Over Britain:

In America broadcasting had been initiated more than a year earlier than in this country … without any method of control whatsoever … advertising, direct or indirect is usually the sole means of revenue.41

He wanted to create a culturally discriminating audience and associated America with mass culture which he described as being ‘the lowest common denominator of taste’. He frequently reinforced his distaste for a commercially led broadcasting system and was quoted in the The Times:

The aether should not be at the mercy of money…If the service is to be run for the benefit of the people it cannot afford to be at the mercy of those who are in a position to provide programmes for their own particular purpose and without whose money the service could not be maintained.42

Reith’s virulent opposition to the use of American expressions and slang in programmes led to the establishment of the Spoken English Committee in 1926 whose purpose was to keep a check on the Americanisation of the English language and to promote the use of Standard English in broadcasting—the ‘educated’ speech of Southern England—as part of the BBC’s public image. The BBC therefore saw part of its mission as defending Britain’s cultural heritage, and with an anti- American attitude developing within the organisation, its instinct was to oppose anything which smacked of it in light entertainment. In 1929 Gerald Cock, the Director of Outside Broadcasts, reported on the growing American domination of the world entertainment industry. He warned 1922–1933: VARIETY BEFORE VARIETY 33 of its insidious nature and suggested that entertainment was directly linked to trade, with people having a tendency:

to buy the goods of the nation which succeeds in amusing and interesting them in their homes as well as elsewhere…It is even probable that the national outlook and with it character, is gradually becoming Americanised.43

While the BBC was an independent entertainment provider, there was concern that what Cock termed the ‘trans-Atlantic octopus’, with its ten- dencies towards merger and acquisition of music publishing, record labels and film studios, would contract the best artists for themselves. The arrival of American-inspired broadcasting might mean the end of an independent BBC, but the situation could be counteracted by maintaining programmes of the highest quality and entertainment value in order to increase the goodwill of the public, with the promotion of legislation to support and develop the home entertainment industry. America’s different approach to programme provision attracted comment in Britain particularly in relation to advertising—its source of funding. A contemporary article in Radio Times suggested that a lack of advertising was a positive bonus for the British listener.

In America, even the wireless reception of a Beethoven symphony cannot be free from association with someone’s chewing gum or pills. In England, the tired worker who has all day been shouted at and advertised to in his newspaper, on the hoardings, in train or omnibus, may settle down to his evening’s wireless entertainment with the feeling that at last he is free from the necessity to listen to someone who has something to sell.44

British journalist and radio critic Sydney Moseley believed that advertis- ers had a vested interest in providing quality programmes, but he defended the BBC against charges by the two largest American wireless companies that it provided inferior programmes or was ‘an agent of Government propaganda…[and a]…dangerous experiment in socialism’.45 Moseley described sponsored programmes as being ‘cheap and monotonous’, and Lee De Forest, a leading American inventor in the field of radio, mourned the condition of his country’s radio system and believed that a sizeable proportion of its audience agreed with him:

if this reptile of etheric advertising is not scotched, we may well resign ourselves to a rapid decadence of a noble institution… From the ecstasies of 34 M. DIBBS

Beethoven and Tchaikovski [sic] listeners are suddenly dumped into a cold mess of ginger-ale or cocoa, while the softly fading notes of an opera’s finale merge into a discourse on sanitary plumbing or whole-wheat bread.46

Despite the arguments, the content of both British and American radio during the 1920s was remarkably similar and included educational talks, agricultural and financial market reports, live music from the cinema and theatre and religious broadcasts on Sundays. American stations also broadcast a significant amount of classical music, but they were criticised for restricting time available to artists in order to facilitate commercial breaks. Occasionally, American programmes were broadcast on the BBC. A short-wave relay light entertainment programme, Stars of American Radio, was received politely by Radio Times but captured the differences in approach to programme-making and presentation style:

The Columbia artists were genuine “stars” of transatlantic radio; whether they could become stars of British radio is doubtful…Their names, bracketed with various brands of cigarettes, toothpaste and what not, attract audiences of millions. The programme – its precision of presentation, confidential familiarity of its announcers, the hymn tune repeated half-a-dozen times by way of a trade mark, the almost undiluted sentimentality of its content – presented a flawless picture of the lighter side of American broadcasting. We ourselves felt slightly faint before the hour was over, but could not deny the perfection of the thing within its own limits; it was so American.47

Nevertheless, American programmes were gaining in popularity. It was not unusual for some British artists to listen to American broadcasts on short-wave radio for sources of material, and the BBC itself was not averse to parodying American films, radio and advertising in its revues. Indeed in 1934, Eddie Pola, an American artist, producer, songwriter and actor, was commissioned by the BBC to produce such a series using British artists.48 This successful programme prompted America to retaliate, but the response was subsequently abandoned, allegedly because of a shortage of artists capable of imitating the BBC accent.

Music for the Many While serious music formed a sizeable proportion of the BBC’s programme content, from its early days a great deal was done to promote dance music on radio, with the first dance music programme being 1922–1933: VARIETY BEFORE VARIETY 35

provided by the short-lived 2LO Dance Band in March 1923. Coinciding with the post-war national obsession with dancing, the first nightly live outside broadcasts of dance music from London’s Carlton Hotel began in May 1923. This proved popular and consequently late-night dance music relayed from many of London’s top hotels, except on Sundays, became a feature of broadcasting. The Savoy Orpheans and Savoy Havana Band were among the most celebrated British bands at this time, and their regular nightly appearances from the Savoy Hotel from October 1923 helped set the style and standard for other bands who wanted to broadcast. The responsibility for dance band music would pass to the Variety Department on its formation. The BBC’s first house band, the London Radio Dance Band under Sidney Firman, was formed in 1926. Firman, who had made frequent appearances on radio with the Cavour Restaurant Dance Band, broadcast regularly from Savoy Hill until his contract was terminated in March 1928 due to his implication in ‘song plugging’—advertising new tunes by constant repetition. His successor was Jack Payne who formed and became the Director of the BBC Dance Orchestra. Significantly the title ‘orchestra’ rather than ‘band’ was used not only to accord it more gravitas but also to distinguish it from the more run-of-the-mill dance bands. It was expected to provide music for revue and variety programmes as well as incidental music for radio drama. Payne was contracted to the BBC for £175 per week, out of which he paid his own musicians. Through the subsequent popularity of his radio shows, he became a national celebrity, receiving some 50,000 letters a year. From November 1928 the band was known as Jack Payne and his BBC Dance Orchestra, in recognition of his own important contribution to the success of the venture. The provision of dance music on radio was not without controversy. It was a style of music which was essentially American, and with the BBC’s concern about creeping Americanisation, it encouraged a ‘British’ style of dance music to develop which was more restrained and bland by comparison with its American equivalent and felt to be more acceptable for broadcasting. There was also stringent control of dance band selection in order that only the highest-quality music would be broadcast. With absolute control of dance music vested in the BBC, there was little room for innovation within the musical idiom. The BBC outlined its philosophy on the subject in 1931 with a sideswipe at jazz: 36 M. DIBBS

The present style of dance playing is what in the USA, home of dance music, they term “sweet”… it is quiet, melodious and subtly orchestrated, as opposed to the “hot” style which held sway until recently, and which in the strident eccentricity of its tone and rhythm, mark[s] a step back to the “jazz” of the jungle.49

British dance music was distinguished from American in being accorded high status by being broadcast from top, fashionable London venues and achieving respectability through its association with their patrons, the middle and upper classes. If the masses could not afford to be there, they could at least experience in part the exclusivity and sophistication of the Mayfair, Piccadilly and Savoy Hotels, by dancing at home to London’s top bands. Indeed, listeners were encouraged to do this by the provision of broadcast dancing lessons with nationally renowned dance instructor Santos Casani. Dance music was featured in Radio Times which published articles and dance steps to supplement Casani’s lessons. It issued a ‘Dance Band Number’ in March 1933 and a few months later looked wistfully back to a time when a dance band broadcast was ‘a signal for the carpet to be rolled up and the family to take the floor’ although it complained of too many comedy numbers included in dance band repertoires instead of concentrating on their prime function.50 The BBC Hand Book 1929 included an article ‘Learning to Dance by Wireless’ along with two others on dance bands, one of which described dance music as ‘the most popular feature of the broadcast programmes’ and the modern dance band as ‘one of the marvellous products of our day’. Jack Payne left the BBC in March 1932 for a career on the variety circuit, and he was replaced by Henry Hall, musical director for the London Midland and Scottish Railway hotels. Hall reported to Gerald Cock and, with the BBC having full responsibility for employing its own house band, was now able to micro-manage every aspect of its new orchestra’s operations including uniform, repertoire, recruitment and dismissal of members. The reformed BBC Dance Orchestra would not only be a provider of popular dance tunes of the day but would also function as a light entertainment act. The Orchestra was essentially British in terms of its musicians and repertoire and was a visible means of stemming the tide of American influence on British popular culture. The Orchestra’s first broadcast on 15 March 1932 was well received with Gerald Cock report- ing ‘something between 800 and 1,000 public appreciations…with less than 10 criticisms’. He was critical of Hall’s announcing and the band’s 1922–1933: VARIETY BEFORE VARIETY 37 vocalist Val Rosing, and felt that it was important for the repertoire to remain fresh in order to maintain appeal. Overall, he was confident that it would be the leading band in six months.51 However, the Dance Orchestra was criticised by the musicians’ newspaper Melody Maker as being:

no more than an efficient band playing an ordinary sort of tune in an ordinary sort of way. It was not interesting enough to call bad. It had no personality. It was inoffensively negative.52

Despite this criticism by the popular music intelligentsia, the public took to Hall and the Orchestra, and he soon became a national figure and his Orchestra became the template for other bands wishing to broadcast. Radio gave dance music a huge boost which by 1927 constituted over 16 per cent of total broadcast hours. Its popularity was not lost on music publishers who set about turning radio to their advantage by paying band leaders to play (or ‘plug’) songs they wanted to promote. Song plugging was a practice which dominated this period and was deplored by the BBC. It held countless meetings with representatives of various London dance venues to devise methods of eradicating this practice. In February 1929, for example, it was agreed with London hotels that there would be neither singing nor announcements of numbers during outside broadcasts. Only studio announcements of the hotel and band would be made: this approach would provide the necessary publicity while excluding any promotion for song publishers. It would apply to all dance bands engaged on outside broadcasts. Where this policy was unacceptable to a band leader, the band would not be permitted to broadcast.53 Despite the meetings held and strategies planned and agreed, song plugging continued and no real solution to the problem was found.

The Devil’s Music on Air While jazz was viewed as just another style of dance music at the BBC, it was controversial and there was an ongoing question as to whether jazz had any artistic or cultural value. There were few in the organisation or among the general public who really knew what jazz was or could discuss it objectively. This led to a great deal of misunderstanding and negative comment. As it was seen as having a sexual connotation and being American in origin, by extension it was vulgar in tendency. Stanley Nelson, a contemporary writer, was in no doubt about the meaning of jazz and wrote: 38 M. DIBBS

The word was used in an obscene sense, and the somewhat suggestive dances of the present day are analogous to the writhings of the inebriated gentlemen and their companions of easy virtue.54

Race was also an issue, and there were restrictions on visiting black artists for whom there was an expectation that they would be engaged only to provide minstrel-style entertainment.55 While the highly popular ‘blackface entertainment’ programmes The Kentucky Minstrels and White Coon’s Concert Party—based purely on white notions of African and Afro- American cultural forms—were perfectly acceptable for broadcasting, jazz by contrast, the music of Black America, was problematic for the BBC. Michael Pickering distinguished between the two:

Minstrelsy was decent and respectable entertainment – its motto of “fun without vulgarity” was long established and widely accepted – whereas the “jungle rhythms” of jazz were morally dangerous, an incitement to those of an impressionable age to abandon themselves to their baser instincts.56

Jazz also provided the musical backdrop for night clubs which had associations with drinking, drugs and prostitution. Dance music, by contrast, was acceptable as entertainment as it was defined by its sophisticated setting and was provided purely to dance to rather than as a background to decadence. Articles about jazz, and in particular its suitability for broadcasting, featured frequently in the columns of Radio Times, usually written from the extremes and often predicting its demise. The conductor Sir Henry Coward, responding to an enthusiastic article about jazz from the composer Constant Lambert, was forthright in his views and considered that the music:

was a development which apart from lowering the…standard of music, had a subversive effect on morals and manners through the crudescence of old sensual dances.57

Public response was divided, ranging from a well-argued defence of Lambert, to the use of the terms ‘horrible cacophony’, ‘primeval savagery’ and ‘primitive instincts’ to describe jazz.58 While jazz in its pure form was not banned from being broadcast, its presentation was largely restricted to recitals of an educational nature. The BBC’s answer was to ‘improve’ 1922–1933: VARIETY BEFORE VARIETY 39 dance music (or jazz), thereby making it suitable for British audiences. Jack Hylton was able to write that not only was most of the jazz heard on the radio intended for dancing but its undesirable features were being gradually eliminated. He explained the process of emasculating the art form:

In the case of nearly all the jazz tunes written today, I first have to orches- trate them in a manner altogether different from the ordinary commercial arrangement – that is, endow them with interest from a musical standpoint before my band can use them.59

Catherine Parsonage summed up the situation:

the BBC was responsible for creating and disseminating a stylistically unified music, suppressing the whole spirit of individuality that was to be central to the future development and longevity of jazz. The standardisation of popular music meant that by 1929 jazz was regarded merely as a briefly popular form in the post-war period.60

The music with its undesirable associations was regarded at the BBC very much as a novelty or just a phase in the development of dance music which would surely pass as the music developed. Despite this outward antipathy towards jazz and the difficulty of distinguishing it from dance music, there was clearly some support for and an understanding of the music within the organisation. While the BBC struggled with this relatively new musical form—as it would with rock and roll and punk rock a couple of generations later—it did at least seem to recognise that jazz was part of the cultural zeitgeist and made an effort to represent it even if it was not quite its style. So, if there was some value in jazz and there was an audience for it, albeit small, then, following Reith’s dictum concerning the provision of the best of everything for the audience, the leading artists in the field ought to be engaged to broadcast. While this happened, the broadcasts were low-key in scope and limited in airtime. When Louis Armstrong visited Britain in July 1932, the BBC arranged a 20-minute outside broadcast from the London Palladium where he was appearing as an act on the variety bill although this was only heard on the Regional Programme. When the Duke Ellington Orchestra toured Britain during June and July 1933, Ellington gave a short interview for the BBC on his arrival, and on 14 June the Orchestra made a studio broadcast although, 40 M. DIBBS as with the Armstrong broadcast, this was only transmitted on the Regional Programme which Godbolt suggests was because the National Programme was intended only for ‘serious’ music.61 In addition to these live performances, the BBC also provided occasional programmes devoted entirely to what they termed ‘hot American dance music’, which record presenter Christopher Stone, not a fan of jazz, unwillingly introduced. Stone, who was among the most popular broadcasters of the time, noted ‘the programmes were a great success and the only blot on them was the faint scoff in my voice when I presented them’.62 Despite Stone’s personal feelings about jazz, the programmes had been commissioned by the BBC despite itself, and had been well received.

Ukulele Players and Comedians In 1927 the BBC’s status changed and the Company now became a public corporation established by Royal Charter. It was regulated by a licence in which it was granted monopoly status and financed through licence fees. This change did not affect light entertainment output. By the late 1920s and with the level of public interest in radio, it was clear that the BBC lacked an effective organisation for the production of light entertainment. The popular press had been criticising the BBC for this, and some newspapers had conducted unscientific polls into radio audience preferences and listening habits which suggested that the BBC was too elitist in its programming policy and was failing the majority of its licence payers. As will be seen later, the arrival of the radio critic ensured that the pace of criticism of the BBC’s output accelerated. In early 1928 The Encore, a show business journal, complained that the BBC was ignoring the audience’s call for more variety programmes, that it was out of touch with what variety actually was, that insufficient money was being spent on its provision and that those in charge of it were unsuited to their jobs.63 In January 1929, R.E. Jeffrey was succeeded by Val Gielgud as Productions Director. On arrival Gielgud found the Department to be:

neither happy nor particularly efficient. Its head was responsible not only for drama but also for variety productions: a combination which I was to discover quickly to be both clumsy and unworkable.64

In March 1930, he initiated separate Revue and Vaudeville Sections within the Productions Department in order to improve the provision of 1922–1933: VARIETY BEFORE VARIETY 41 variety on radio.65 In charge of the new Revue Section was John Watt, a former journalist on the Daily Express who had joined the BBC’s Belfast Station as an announcer and producer in 1927. In addition to Watt, the creative side of the Section initially comprised producer Gordon McConnel and accompanist Doris Arnold. In 1932 they were joined by Harry S. Pepper who had entered show business through his father’s concert party as a pianist. The Vaudeville side included Bertram Fryer, Denis Freeman and John Sharman, who himself had a background in music hall. Following this reorganisation, an innovation, the ‘series’ programme format began. Such programmes included John Watt’s Songs from the Shows (1931–58), John Sharman’s Music Hall (1932–52)—one of the first programmes to be both broadcast before a live audience and to have a fixed spot in the broadcasting schedule—and a radio version of Pepper’s father’s minstrel show White Coons Concert Party (1932–36), as well as Pepper’s subsequent The Kentucky Minstrels (1933–50). This programme was extremely popular and re-emerged on television in 1957 as The Black and White Minstrel Show where it ran until 1973.66 These Variety producers were all pioneers and many became household names with some continuing to work in variety until the 1950s. With the assembled talent, the BBC had an organisation which was now considered able to provide for the growing need for variety programmes. Despite these programme successes, by the end of the BBC’s first decade, problems continued to mount for its provision of light entertainment. The reorganisation of 1930 proved to be a short-term solution. Productions Director Val Gielgud, with a full schedule of dramatic productions, did not want to be ‘troubling himself with ukulele players and comedians’.67 In addition, a lack of specialist producers and an overworked staff hampered the development and expansion of popular entertainment. With variety being the most popular genre of programme, it seemed logical for the BBC to create a specialist department which would professionalise the production of light entertainment programmes. There were also other reasons for a separate department. The growth of European commercial radio stations posed a threat to the BBC’s monopoly and audience numbers. In 1930, Captain Leonard Plugge had established the International Broadcasting Company in London and began to promote advertiser-sponsored programmes on continental radio stations, notably Radio Normandie (1926) and Radio Luxembourg (1933). They were American-style programmes, largely of popular music, which offered light relief particularly from the rather drab Sunday fare provided by the BBC on the day of potentially the largest 42 M. DIBBS audiences. These stations gradually became more popular as the listening public grew increasingly intolerant of the BBC’s Sunday programmes. The BBC’s relations with the entertainment industry had progressively worsened since 1931. As an economy measure during the Depression, BBC broadcasts from the London Palladium temporarily ceased. George Black retaliated by re-imposing a broadcasting ban on his artists, and Gerald Cock saw his work in placating the entertainment industry unravel. He persuaded Black to rescind the ban on condition that the Palladium broadcasts were reinstated. This happened, but Black was to remain suspicious of the BBC and continued to impose intermittent and arbitrary broadcasting bans on his artists throughout the 1930s. At the end of 1932, Black again proposed that the BBC pay him £30,000 per year for employing his artists and later suggested that he become responsible for the organisation of BBC variety programmes. However, as before, out- sourcing variety would mean handing over control of an important aspect of the BBC’s operations to an external agency, an action tantamount to an admission of failure on the part of the Corporation. A Variety Department would enable the creation of its own ‘radiogenic’ artists which would help free itself from dependence on an entertainment industry hostile to radio. It would also demonstrate that the BBC was listening and responding to press and audience criticism and making a serious effort to provide for an audience clamouring for more and better popular programming. Lastly, the creation of the BBC’s Empire service in 1932 increased the need for more of these programmes for overseas transmission. Throughout 1932 and early 1933, there was a great deal of discussion within the BBC about future policy for popular entertainment. In March 1933 the BBC Controller, Admiral C.D. Carpendale, was able to announce that:

The work and importance of the Productions Department has increased to such an extent that it is considered desirable to separate the serious and light sides of its programmes.68

In a matter of months the Variety Department was established.

Conclusion When the BBC began in 1922, broadcasting was a blank canvas. Few, including Reith, had any experience of broadcasting or were aware of its potential as a medium of mass communication. It would have been 1922–1933: VARIETY BEFORE VARIETY 43

difficult to have accurately predicted that radio would become one of the most important social and cultural influences. As broadcasting developed, it gained professionalism and credibility as the leading provider of domestic entertainment and became no longer the preserve of the amateur enthusiast. There was no separate organisation for producing light entertainment and all programmes originated in the Productions Department. The BBC developed strategies to overcome its turbulent relationship with the entertainment industry which slowly began to realise the potential of radio to further its interests. The BBC also assumed the role of protector of the nation’s cultural heritage by developing its own stable of entertainers and programmes. It developed a uniquely British approach to dance music and jazz in an effort to stem the tide of American influences in these areas. No solution was found to the problem of song plugging and the linked issues of Sunday broadcasting policy and competition from European commercial broadcasters would soon become more visible. With production procedures becoming more technically complex, increasing foresight, vision and imagination were essential in creating programmes for an increasingly sophisticated and critical audience. Throughout the period Reith dominated all aspects of the BBC. Although he had definite views on entertainment, at the end of its first decade, the decision to create a Variety Department indicated that the BBC had begun to embrace the notion of entertainment for the majority—but mainly on its own terms.

Notes 1. In this book the abbreviation BBC applies to both the British Broadcasting Company (1922–26) and the British Broadcasting Corporation (1927 onwards). 2. Quoted in Asa Briggs, The History of Broadcasting in the United Kingdom Vol. I: The Birth of Broadcasting, Oxford, 1961 (rev. edition 1995) 43–44. 3. Quoted ibid., 65. 4. For a comparison of the development of American and British broadcasting, see Michele Hilmes, ‘British Quality, American Chaos: Historical Dualisms and What They Leave Out’, Radio Journal, 1:1 (2003), 13–27. 5. For works concerning early broadcasting, see Brian Hennessey (Hennessy), Savoy Hill: the Early Years of British Broadcasting, Romford, 1996, and The Emergence of Broadcasting in Britain, Lympstone, 2005 and Tim Wander, 2MT Writtle: the Birth of British Broadcasting, Stowmarket, 1988. 44 M. DIBBS

6. The subject of relay exchanges is covered comprehensively in R.H. Coase, British Broadcasting: A Study in Monopoly, London, 1950. 7. BBC Handbook 1939, London, 1938, 129. 8. Mark Pegg, Broadcasting and Society 1918–1939, Beckenham, 1983, 46. 9. Much has been written of Reith; see, for example, the biographies, Garry Allighan, Sir John Reith, London, 1938; Andrew Boyle, Only the Wind will Listen: Reith of the BBC, London, 1972; Ian McIntyre, The Expense of Glory: A Life of John Reith, London, 1993 and Marista Leishman, My Father: Reith of the BBC, Edinburgh, 2006, his daughter’s memoir. See also Reith’s autobiography Into the Wind, London, 1949 and his heavily edited published diaries, Charles Stuart (ed.) The Reith Diaries, London, 1975. 10. J.C.W. Reith, Broadcast Over Britain, London, 1924, 23. 11. Radio Times 25, March 14, 1924, 441–42. Radio Times is hereafter abbreviated to RT. 12. Reith, Broadcast, 34. 13. Sarnoff to E. W. Rice Jr. of RCA: quoted in Gleason L. Archer, Big Business and Radio, New York, 1939, http://www.archive.org/stream/bigbusi- nessradio00archrich. [Accessed 2 April 2009]. 14. Reith, Broadcast, 18. 15. Maurice Gorham, Sound and Fury: Twenty-One Years at the BBC, London, 1948, 59. 16. RT 13, 21 December 1923, 452. 17. BBC WAC R34/609, Burrows to Controller, 8 September 1924. 18. Punch 23 December 1925 but quoted in http://www.middlebrownet- work.com/DefiningtheMiddlebrow.aspx [Accessed 27 November 2010]. 19. Norman Edwards, Broadcasting for Everyone: A Popular Outline for the Listener-In, London, 1924, 227–28. 20. BBC WAC R34/323, 28 April, 1924. 21. BBC Handbook 1929, London 1928, 274. 22. BBC WAC 34/323, Wireless League to BBC, 14 February 1928. 23. Ibid. Burnham to Reith, 7 December, 1925. 24. Quoted in Briggs, I, 356. 25. Ibid. 357. 26. RT 272, 14 December 1928, 1. 27. RT 367, 10 October 1930, 8. 28. BBC Yearbook 1930, London, 1929, 61. 29. Alan, A.J., Good Evening Everyone! London, 1928; A.J. Alan’s Second Book, London, 1933. 30. RT 624, 13 September 1935, 6. 31. Lionel Fielden, The Natural Bent, London, 1960, 104–5. 32. RT 381, 16 January 1931, 111. 1922–1933: VARIETY BEFORE VARIETY 45

33. BBC Year Book 1933, London, 1932, 152. 34. RT 437, 12 February 1932, 367. 35. BBC Handbook 1929, 182–84. 36. BBC Year Book 1930, 237. 37. Extract from popular song lyric, We Can’t Let You Broadcast That (Norman Long/Dave Burnaby), released on Columbia DB 1216, 1932 (copyright control). This can be heard on This Record Is Not to Be Broadcast: 75 Songs Banned by the BBC 1931–1957, released on Fantastic Voyage FVTD018. 38. Roger Eckersley, The BBC and All That, London, 1946, 145. 39. BBC WAC R34/292/1, Production Director to Station Directors, 13 February 1928. 40. Jack Payne, Signature Tune, London, 1947, 80. 41. Reith, Broadcast, 81. 42. The Times, 29 July 1930, 12. 43. BBC WAC R34/918/1, American Control of the Entertainment Industry, 7 November 1929. 44. RT 300, 21 June 1929, 610–11. 45. Sydney A. Moseley, Broadcasting in My Time, London, 1935, 181–82. 46. Quoted ibid. 182–83. 47. RT 436, 5 February 1932, 298. 48. RT 571, 7 September 1934, 611. 49. BBC Year Book 1932, London, 1931, 204. 50. RT 504, 26 May 1933, 475. 51. BBC WAC R29/13, OB Director to DP, 22 March 1932. 52. Quoted in Paddy Scannell and David Cardiff, A Social History of Broadcasting 1922–1939, Vol. 1, Oxford, 1991, 210. 53. BBC WAC R13/311/1, 20 February 1929. 54. Stanley R. Nelson, All About Jazz, London, 1934, 24. 55. Catherine Parsonage, The Evolution of Jazz in Britain 1880–1935, Aldershot, 2005, 173–83. 56. Michael Pickering, ‘The BBC’s Kentucky Minstrels, 1933–1950: Blackface Entertainment on British Radio’, Historical Journal of Film, Radio and Television, 16:2 (1996), 170. 57. RT 259, 7 September, 1928, 415. 58. RT 264, 12 October 1928, 83. 59. RT 280, 8 February 1929, 319. 60. Parsonage, Evolution, 49. 61. Jim Godbolt, A History of Jazz In Britain 1919–50, London, 1984 (revised edition, 2005), 109. 62. Christopher Stone, Christopher Stone Speaking, London, 1933, 94–96. 63. BBC WAC Programmes Book 3, P129/2: Vaudeville and Reviews: The Encore, 9 and 23 February and 5 April 1928. 46 M. DIBBS

64. Val Gielgud, Years in a Mirror, London, 1965, 51. 65. BBC WAC R13/311/1, Gielgud to Director of Programmes, 9 January 1930. 66. See Michael Pickering, ‘Kentucky Minstrels’. 67. Eric Maschwitz, No Chip on My Shoulder, London, 1957, 64. 68. BBC WAC R13/311/1, 31 March 1933. CHAPTER 3

1933–1939: The Show Begins

Variety Takes Shape By 1933 radio had established itself as an integral part of home life and had become firmly embedded within the culture of the nation. The BBC continued to expand rapidly, and between 1933 and 1939, staff numbers increased from 1,747 to 5,100 and the sale of radio licences increased from 5,533,067 to 9,020,959. The estimated number able to listen to radio grew from nearly 22.5 million to almost 34 million, while the circulation of the Radio Times increased by 32 per cent from 1,962,047 to 2,588,433 copies.1 Radio also had an effect on popular culture in terms of the spread of its stars’ catchphrases into common usage, the incidence of radio-themed cartoons in magazines and newspapers, the mention of radio in popular songs and the issue of a set of cigarette cards on the subject of radio celebrities. Radio stars and producers also gained a higher national profile not only through appearances inRadio Times and Radio Pictorial but also in the press where, with the arrival of the radio critic, the BBC became subject to continuous public scrutiny. In June 1933 the Revue and Vaudeville arms of the Productions Department were hived off in order to form the basis of what would become the new Variety Department. At 33, Eric Maschwitz was appointed its first Director with responsibility for all programme output and for the BBC Dance Orchestra.2 Maschwitz had joined the BBC Outside Broadcasts Department in 1926 and became Editor of Radio Times a year later. He

© The Author(s) 2019 47 M. Dibbs, Radio Fun and the BBC Variety Department, 1922–67, Palgrave Studies in the History of the Media, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-95609-1_3 48 M. DIBBS was the ideal choice for the BBC; the fact that he was public school educated and a Cambridge graduate would have met with the approval of senior management. While administrative skills were not his strong suit, he had the charm to boost and sustain Variety Department morale as well as the ability to manage artistic temperaments. Also, he was no stranger to show business and had a parallel writing and song writing career. Maschwitz, under the pseudonym ‘Holt Marvell’, together with Val Gielgud, the BBC’s Director of Drama, wrote the thriller Death at Broadcasting House, and the film based on the book was released in 1934. They collaborated again in 1950 with The Television Murder. Among Maschwitz’s many musical successes were the show Good Night Vienna (1932), the play The Gay Hussar (1933) which became the musical Balalaika (1936), as well as the popular songs These Foolish Things (1936)—from which he was reput- edly still earning £1000 a year in 1957—and A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square (1940). He was described as being:

exactly what light entertainment needed. He had tireless energy and enthusiasm, was a boon companion, one of those rare life-enhancing spirits in whose presence everyone felt younger, wittier and better looking. He was marvellously unstuffy…Maschwitz was a leader who could do it as well as run it.3

Maschwitz began work on 30 June 1933 and he had no doubt as to his responsibilities. He wrote:

My work will consist of

(a) Responsibility for the efficient working of the Department (b) Search for new talent in London and the provinces (c) Liaison with other branches of the entertainment world (d) Supervision of all rehearsals and transmissions (e) Supplying interest, enthusiasm, and energy, while undertaking special research work for which producers, busy on current productions, may not have time.4 The Variety Department’s small but experienced creative staff transferred from the Productions Department. They comprised John Watt, Harry S. Pepper and Doris Arnold in revue and concert party programmes, Denis Freeman and Mark Lubbock in radio operetta and light productions, John Sharman and Brian Michie handling music hall and Gordon 1933–1939: THE SHOW BEGINS 49

McConnel and Charles Brewer concentrating on light opera and old-time musicals. The team was flexible enough to undertake work in other areas of variety where necessary and were producers in the fullest sense of the word in that they were wholly responsible for conceiving, writing, producing and engaging artists, sometimes even composing the music for each programme. Doris Arnold, who had begun her career with the BBC in 1926 as a secretary, was unique among women in the Variety Department. While most were employed in a secretarial, clerical and administrative capacity, she was the only female member of the pre-war Variety Department directly employed as producer, accompanist, arranger and later presenter of her own long-running series These You Have Loved (1938–77), which made her a household name. The Department was allocated two studios in the basement of the recently completed Broadcasting House, one of which was fitted out as a theatre with seating for 60. Almost immediately this accommodation was found to be too small and additional studios within Broadcasting House had to be used. At Maschwitz’s suggestion the Department moved to the adjacent St George’s Hall in November 1933. Away from the watchful eye of top management, Variety’s creative spirit was able to develop in the more relaxed atmosphere of its new home. The Department operated undefined hours. Maschwitz adopted an open-door policy and there was an informality which was absent in other BBC departments; Harry Pepper, for example, had a stuffed moose head above his office door. Maschwitz spoke warmly of his staff:

I encouraged my band of incorrigible bohemians to call me by my first name and to break into my office at any hour of the day or night with their problems and ideas. I wrote for them and rehearsed with them…I also drank with them not always to the benefit of my constitution. We were friends.5

While other output departments could provide cerebral stimulation, Variety was for relaxation, a break from the routine of daily life to be enjoyed without too much intellectual effort on the part of the listener. The Department set out to provide for all tastes, but while this would take time, the listening public was reassured that their particular interests would be accommodated sooner or later. ‘Sixteen hours a week chock full of vitality’ was how Maschwitz previewed the Variety Department’s first winter schedule. For him the programmes with the widest appeal included 50 M. DIBBS popular music, humorous variety acts and programmes with friendly voices and atmosphere. Music played a significant role in many Variety Department productions, which included concert parties, theatre organ programmes and outside broadcasts from theatres and music halls. Maschwitz’s tenure was characterised by lavish productions of operettas and musical comedies with an accent on romance and gaiety with such productions as The Student Prince and The Vagabond King. A radio programme reflecting on the period recalled that:

[he] went all out for colour and romance and ‘spectacle in sound’. The BBC became for the first time sophisticated. It was a period of dreamy waltzes, luscious melodies, cloak and sword romance and gypsy music.6

This approach provoked the accusation of providing too much sophisticated entertainment for the rich and privileged and not enough for the working classes. Maschwitz contended that while the tastes of the urbane had to be catered for occasionally, programmes were provided to appeal to the widest possible public.7 Variety Department programmes increased the radio audience, and it soon became the ‘bread and butter’ department of the BBC, broadcasting to its largest and most critical audience. Consequently, more was demanded of the Department and its programme output and broadcast hours began to increase. In January 1933, prior to its establishment, there were 28 light entertainment programmes (29 hours of broadcasting) per month. By January 1935, monthly output had increased to 61 programmes (totalling 44 hours) and in January 1936 to 87 programmes (59 hours), although this was accompanied by a trend towards shorter programmes.8 However, the Department was working even harder than these figures suggest, as they did not include dance music from studios or outside broadcasts. Maschwitz claimed no particular credit for the Department’s success which he put down partly to the enthusiasm, resourcefulness and originality of its writers and producers, but principally to the fact that since 1933 the BBC had earmarked more money, more programme time, more staff and greater freedom for variety productions.9 As Table 3.1 shows, between 1933 and 1939, Variety Department staff numbers more than tripled in response to an increasing workload, an indication that the BBC was reacting positively to the wishes of the listening public with the appointment of additional staff. 1933–1939: THE SHOW BEGINS 51

Table 3.1 The growth of the BBC Variety Department: staff statistics 1933–39

1933 1934 1935 1936 1937 1938 1939

Manageriala 1 1 2 2 2 2 2 Producersb 9 8 10 10 16 18 22 Producers’ Assistants – – – 5 11 11 12 Administrative 7 7 11 12 13 20 22 Secretarial Clericalc Musicald 5 6 7 7 8 9 9 Totals 22 22 30 36 50 60 67

Sources: The figures for 1933–37 are taken from BBC WAC R34/311/2 (undated); for 1938 and 1939, they are derived from BBC Staff Lists for these years Notes: aThe Director and Assistant Director also produced programmes bIncludes scriptwriter(s) cDoes not include the Variety Executive who was a member of the Director of Internal Administration’s staff dIncludes accompanists, conductors, dance band staff, musical directors, gramophone staff and the BBC Theatre Organist

Looking for Ideas The Department’s success bred demand and the programme planners called on Variety to fill more airtime. This had two significant consequences for programme-making. Firstly, there was an unremitting need to devise new and original programmes; secondly, in building its own artists and programmes, the Department used up scripted material at an alarm- ing rate which had to be continually sourced. While a music hall artist could use the same script for years, it could not be used for the large audiences generated by radio. A great deal of energy and money was expended by the BBC in searching for the original and distinct in these areas although, with its relatively fixed income, it was restricted to some extent from competing with film companies and theatres for the best scriptwriters and artists. A programme was only as good as its script; radio comedian Claude Hulbert, who wrote much of his own material, was concerned about its quality and wanted an audience at rehearsals in order to gauge the success of his script. Charles Brewer, the Assistant Director of Variety, had great faith in Hulbert and suggested that if the band laughed during rehearsals, then the act was good. While aspiring scriptwriters could send their raw material to the Variety Department on a speculative basis, they 52 M. DIBBS could seek advice first to lessen the chances of rejection. Both Hulbert and Max Kester, a BBC staff writer and producer, wrote books which offered advice to aspiring radio scriptwriters on writing material suitable for being broadcast by the BBC. Hulbert’s book, arguably the first on the subject and produced prior to the creation of the Variety Department, had the approval of John Watt, a future director of Variety. Kester’s book, with Eric Maschwitz’s endorsement, was written at a time when the Variety Department was firmly established.10 In the late 1930s, the BBC began to offer advice in its annual Handbooks on submission of scripts to its various programme departments. Future contributors were urged to listen to programmes to get a sense of what was suitable, but not to spend too much time producing a full script until the department concerned was satisfied that the idea had potential. Of equal importance was the search for new radio personalities. While the entertainment industry was always seeking new artists, radio needed personalities able to communicate effectively and intimately with an unseen audience. Despite requests from the public, the Department’s policy was to restrict the engagement of the most popular artists in order that listeners would not tire of them. The BBC had created its own stars and it was important that this process continued. Maschwitz understood show business and was highly supportive of the need to discover and train fledgling artists, and he emphasised the essential qualities required:

1. He is thoroughly trained in microphone work. He can work with or without an audience. 2. He takes the trouble to prepare special material, and renew his material. 3. He is instinctively aware of BBC standards and gives us the type of material suited to our mixed audience. 4. Eventually, he appears on the stage or screen as a BBC “Star” and, if he is a good artist, does indirect propaganda for us…even if it cost us £500 per star, the trouble and expense would not be wasted.11

With a nod in the direction of the administrators who were always looking at ways to cut costs and eliminate waste, he continued, ‘I imagine that as far as new stars were concerned we could recoup ourselves by scaling their salaries a little lower than usual’. Potential artists were sourced from auditions, theatres, music halls, concerts, talent competitions, the entertainment industry and radio 1933–1939: THE SHOW BEGINS 53 showcase programmes such as First Time Here (1933) and Carroll Levis and His Discoveries (1936). Auditions were a heavy drain on producers’ time and generated a poor return for the effort and resources invested. While there was always room for ‘speciality instrumentalists, whistlers, ventriloquists and artists with other out-of-the-way gifts’, an average of 2,000 auditions annually yielded only 1 per cent suitable for a broadcasting trial, of whom only 15 per cent were offered a second engagement.12 In August 1934, the BBC’s public auditions were temporarily suspended. At this time, while there was an adequate supply of ballad singers, crooners and impersonators, there remained a dearth of comedians, double- acts and singers capable of light operetta. Six months later, however, there was a general shortage of radio artists and a number of ideas were floated to mitigate this. Maschwitz suggested that the BBC issue ‘appren- tice contracts’ to promising young variety artists who would attend rehearsals and transmissions, understudy and play small parts in programmes and study singing and acting with radio producers. He also proposed the creation of an act-building department which would not make programmes but instead rehearse individual acts or whole programmes to be presented to the Department for approval. While these ideas met with general endorsement by senior management, there is no evidence to suggest they were implemented. Throughout the 1930s, while auditions in London became progressively harder to secure in most BBC departments, they were slightly easier come by in the regions where talent was thought to be less abundant. Variety continued to offer auditions to established artists particularly in areas where there were shortages. Although variety theatre and music hall remained popular with the public, radio began to rely less on these traditional forms and concentrate on initiating its own programme formats. Gradually the BBC developed its own stable of artists such as Clapham and Dwyer, Ronald Frankau, Leonard Henry, Gillie Potter and sisters Elsie and Doris Waters, all of whom became popular. The BBC justified its low fees for artists it had been instrumental in creating. With its fixed income, the Corporation was not always able to afford the finest or most popular talent, but the need to develop new artists was important so that the audience did not tire of hearing the same performers. In February 1937, for example, the BBC had written to Elsie and Doris Waters—the popular Gert and Daisy double-act—offering them a broadcast. The sisters quibbled about the fee but the Contracts Department was immovable: 54 M. DIBBS

I cannot go beyond 50 guineas. This, as you know, is what we pay our star performers. I don’t know what you hear about the sums that other artists get, but it is my experience that artists are inclined to exaggerate their fees when talking amongst themselves, so please do not place too much reliance on that sort of gossip.13

The sisters eventually accepted the contract, and Variety Executive, Arthur Brown, reassured them that they were one of the highest paid radio acts. Artists could also be difficult to work with. Gillie Potter was fond of dictating the terms under which he would appear, for example, insisting on no studio audience or determining his position in the programme. In 1934, Arthur Brown described him as ‘a comedian of the rare type…able to produce new and original programmes at quite short notice’.14 Three years later Assistant Head of Variety Charles Brewer was more expansive:

It is common knowledge in the Variety world that Mr. Gillie Potter, genius though he be…is what we would call temperamentally unbalanced…We in this Department are used to it and put up with his little idiosyncrasies as he is such a good act.15

Radio’s large audiences increased the fees that both famous and unknown artists could command from theatre managements for live performances, which ultimately had a knock-on effect on the income of variety theatres. In 1934, Eric Maschwitz was able to announce that the war between the BBC and the entertainment industry, which had in the past prevented many artists of the day from broadcasting, was over and a year later the BBC claimed to have broadcast every notable music hall star.16 This was still the situation in 1938 when George Black of the General Theatre Corporation denied that there was any friction between the Variety Department and himself. Indeed, there seemed to be a new reci- procity between the old enemies. Black told the press:

Formerly we had to deal at Broadcasting House with what I might term the cuff and collar brigade – young men with little or no knowledge of the stage, but who considered themselves qualified to teach us our business…now there is a set of very nice fellows there, who do understand something of the business, and who realise that when theatrical entertainment is going over the air it should be handled by experts. Accordingly my attitude has under- gone a change, and I shall now give every facility to Broadcasting House to bring radio audiences and our own public closer together.17 1933–1939: THE SHOW BEGINS 55

The power of radio became apparent when, in January 1938 at the request of Moss Empires, then the largest theatre group in the country, a BBC outside broadcast of an excerpt from an ailing West End show immediately restored its fortunes. Marion Holledge, Secretary to R.H. Wood, Engineer-in-Charge (Outside Broadcasts), remembered:

It was an outside broadcast of Me and My Girl from the Victoria Theatre which saved the show. It had been doing so badly it was about to close so they broadcast a part of it and the next day the box office was overwhelmed by the demand for seats. The BBC brought the Lambeth Walk to every dance hall for years after!18

The show subsequently ran for over 1,600 performances and in 1939 was broadcast on television and became a film entitled The Lambeth Walk, named after its most popular song.

Bureaucracy and the BBC Problems with artists and theatre managements were not the only difficulties the Department faced. There were two additional pressures, those of operating in an increasingly bureaucratised environment and overwork. In 1933 following a major reorganisation, the head of each programme- making department was allocated an executive whose role was intended to relieve creative staff from administrative duties and allow them to concentrate on programme-making. The Variety Executive assumed responsibility for general administration, programme costs and issuing contracts to artists. He had divided loyalties however for, while working for the Director of Variety, he was employed by the Director of Internal Administration. This produced an underlying tension between creative and administrative staff, and the problem was summarised by Maurice Gorham:

The machine was manned by people who had every incentive to say No and none to say Yes and who were suspicious of every demand because they did not know enough to see the reasons for it…It was during this period that only the enthusiasm and determination of the productive staff succeeded in overcoming the machinery and getting anything on the air.19

Programme planners were not creative people and their focus was on order, control and management rather than the complexities of the daily 56 M. DIBBS production schedule. It was the job of the output departments to provide the programmes and of the programme planners to arrange the programme balance throughout the day. While the planners could call for programmes of a particular type and length, they could not commission them: this was the role of the output department which could produce programmes but could not broadcast them without the planners’ approval. Sometimes they became interested in each other’s roles with the planners becoming concerned about the quality and content of programmes while the programme makers wanted to have a say in the organisation of the schedule. With the planners holding the purse-strings, the potential for clashes and disagreements was always present.20 Maschwitz was a programme maker and facilitator and pursued his role with unbounded enthusiasm although often without sufficient regard for the procedures and protocols the administrators felt were vital for efficient programme-making. This added to the chaos of the Department’s operations and was a source of great irritation to the administrators who, in attempting to facilitate a more structured approach to the Department’s pattern of work, occasionally intervened in creative matters. In early 1935 the Variety Executive, Arthur Brown, wrote about ‘irregularities’ within the Department. He was particularly concerned about acknowledgements on radio of the theatre shows in which radio artists were appearing and of producers being ‘plugged’ throughout their own programmes. He suggested that an Assistant Director of Variety be appointed to oversee the administrative work of the Variety Director in order to allow him more free time for creative work. This sounded suspiciously like an attempt to give the administrative function a more influential and controlling role within the Department, and shortly afterwards the Director of Internal Administration, Basil Nicolls, of whom one gets the impression that his prime interest was in the management of the organisation rather than what it was producing, unsurprisingly recommended to the Director- General that his own man, Brown, be appointed as Assistant Director. Arthur Brown was an administrator rather than a creative, a point not lost on Reith who thought that there was a clear demarcation between the two roles. When the post was approved, it was senior producer Charles Brewer rather than an administrator who was promoted, and the post of Variety Executive slipped one place down the hierarchy. Although additional resources (money, staff and accommodation) had been allocated to the Department, it was never enough. Overwork, a lack 1933–1939: THE SHOW BEGINS 57 of planning, staff shortages, poor financial control and chaotic organisation all became characteristic of the Department during this period. Members of staff were frequently described as being ‘on the verge of a breakdown’ or about to ‘crack up’. Arthur Brown was reported as being unable to handle his workload and required an assistant. In 1935 at a programme meeting in which programme standards were specifically discussed, Maschwitz expressed concern that the output of the Variety Department had increased four- or fivefold without a corresponding increase in staff numbers. Most staff worked 12 hours a day and never had free weekends and this situation could not continue indefinitely. He felt that improvements would be slow unless increases in the number and quality of staff as well as accommodation were addressed. On the question of simplification of production, Maschwitz argued that the cheapest, most popular, and easiest programmes to produce were those of dance music. Nothing could be done about this because the BBC’s policy was against further extensions of dance music programmes.21 Overwork could lead to a clash between the creative staff, with their enthusiasm to produce programmes under whatever circumstances and the administrators, who demanded order and method. In October 1935 Paul Askew, the Dance Band Assistant, typically worked a 15- or 16-hour day and was asked by Mungo Dewar, the new Variety Executive, to keep a diary of his hours worked over a period of a fortnight to be used for strengthening his case for the reform of the Variety Department. Shortly after, Dewar proposed a departmental reorganisation and cited the difficulties staff were under:

At the present time Mr. Maschwitz, Mr. Watt, Mr. Pepper and Doris Arnold are on the verge of a breakdown. Mr. McConnel is away ill, while Mr. Longstaffe has had to be given a week’s leave because of the overwork during the summer leave period.22

It was usual for Maschwitz to work a 14-hour day, and Dewar thought that he was spending too much of his time in the creative sphere rather than overseeing the work of the Department. Dewar continued:

His output is phenomenal, but with the best will in the world it cannot go on … Under our present system we are slowly killing our specialists. Something will have to be done – and that quickly – to conserve their energies. 58 M. DIBBS

He believed that overwork was the product of a lack of planning as well as an absence of a strategy to cope with the increase in productions. With a rise in staff numbers, Dewar suggested that the Department be divided into five production units each of which would produce specific types of programme. This would enable the workload to be distributed more evenly as well as allowing more efficient planning of key programming elements such as engaging artists and extra musicians, producing musical arrangements, dealing with copyright and facilitating accurate production costings. Although his ideas met with the general approval of the Department’s creative staff, they were never implemented. Roger Eckersley, the Assistant Controller (Programmes), was aware of the effect the charismatic Maschwitz had on his staff and believed that, if there was a fault, it lay in the enthusiasm of the Department’s staff for their work. He thought that the alternative to employing additional staff—a decrease in departmental output—was not an option because of public demand for Variety programmes. He was supportive of Dewar’s plans for reorganisation but believed that programme increases could not continue indefinitely and that it was perhaps time to consider that there were now sufficient light entertainment programmes to meet the public’s demand.23 At the end of 1935, the Director of Programme Administration (DPA) blamed both sides for the situation, Variety for submitting too many unre- alistic suggestions rather than practical proposals and Administration for encouraging the process by increasing finance and staff for unproven ideas. However, Maschwitz considered that:

however large his staff the Variety Department, by its very nature, was bound to be chronically overworked. Creative people could not create prop- erly except in an atmosphere of constant rush.24

The DPA was unconvinced by this. His preference was for Maschwitz and his deputy to concentrate on the efficient running of the department rather than spending most of their time in an artistic capacity although he recognised that being the people they were, this would be impossible. Maschwitz was both a professional and a success in his own right, with a strong focus on achievement. Despite the difficulties facing Variety, he simply managed the criticism and continued making programmes. He was the Head of the BBC’s most popular output department and, although frequently chided by top management, was never removed from his post and remained there until his resignation in 1937. 1933–1939: THE SHOW BEGINS 59

While Mungo Dewar could only raise the issue of overwork with his superiors and hope that they would act to do something about it, he did what he could on his own account to mitigate the situation. In November 1936, hoping to bring a greater sense of order to the Department, he compiled and issued to all staff the Handbook of Variety Routine which set out all departmental procedures.25 It included such information as the responsibilities of each member of staff within the production and administrative sides of the organisation, procedures for the engagement of artists and bands, information on copyright, the importance of passing programme information to the Radio Times and the features of the BBC Theatre Organ. It also explored the minutiae of departmental operations by, for example, listing the details of every piano and its location and reminding production staff of the importance of producing scripts on rustle-proof paper. Perhaps emphasising the administrative nature of Dewar’s role, there was also an appendix which contained examples of every form and document in use. By 1938, with John Watt in post as Eric Maschwitz’s replacement, nothing had changed and the engagement of more staff and a reorganisation in April did little to overcome the problem of departmental fatigue. Mungo Dewar continued to voice his concern about the constant increase in workload. In June 1938 a clearly frustrated Dewar wrote to the Assistant Director of Programme Administration (ADPA):

I warned Mr. Maschwitz during his regime as DV and since Mr. Watt’s appointment, I have raised the question many times. All my efforts have proved fruitless.26

While the reply was sympathetic, there was no doubt that this situation was self-inflicted and self-perpetuating. The problem was that Variety was unable to refuse any requests for additional programmes. In November 1938, it was reported that the number of Variety Department productions that quarter was expected to be 325, compared to the first quarter’s total of 262. With this 24 per cent increase, Dewar again warned of the imperative to appoint yet more staff, if only on a short-term basis, as all producers were working to capacity and any absence through sickness would put a further strain on all the others. He wrote anxiously of the mental state of some key Variety producers:

The heavy winter schedule is beginning to shew its effect already on Burnaby, Lawrence and Harry Pepper, and I should not be surprised at all to see them crack up at any moment.27 60 M. DIBBS

But overwork was not confined to producers, it affected clerical staff as well. In June 1939, Dewar was keen to appoint a permanent shorthand typist to assist Miss Rogers of the Dance Band Section. Among her other tasks she liaised daily with music publishers and band leaders (‘…one of the toughest crowds I know in the entertainment world’). He reported, ‘She has just returned from sick leave and before she went I can assure you she was completely worn out’.28 Within months, the Department would be evacuated to Bristol and later to Bangor where overwork would be just one of the many endless problems it faced in wartime Britain.

Keeping It Clean … and British When the Variety Department was established, there was little formal guidance on what constituted bad taste in programmes although the BBC’s policy towards broadcast humour had been very broadly, though vaguely, set out in Radio Times earlier in 1933:

To avoid where possible, the broadcasting of material which might offend even a small minority of listeners. This ruling precludes not only impropri- ety, but satirical references to many less blatant subjects which would be considered fair game for a theatrical audience.29

Eric Maschwitz was left to make his own decisions on the suitability of material for broadcasting. He recalled in his autobiography:

There were no rules or regulations to tell us what might or might not be permitted in a broadcast programme: we were left to exercise our own personal discretion as to whether jokes were too vulgar or topics too controversial.30

Discretion could not cater for every eventuality. With programmes almost always scripted, an attempt at spontaneity could have unintended consequences as Olive Shapley, then a trainee producer in the North Region, remembered:

[Talks producer] D. G. Bridson was preparing his feature, Coal and…put a group of Durham miners into the Newcastle studio and told them to talk. After a few minutes I was sent in with a large piece of cardboard on which Bridson had hastily chalked, ‘Do not say BLOODY or BUGGER’. These are not really swear words in the north-east, but for many people are woven 1933–1939: THE SHOW BEGINS 61

into the fabric of everyday speech. The sight of these poor men trying vainly to form some sort of sentence without resort to them was enough to have me sent back into the studio to say, ‘As you were’. There was a terrible row about it.31

The word ‘censorship’, largely in relation to variety programmes, began to appear in Programme Board minutes from the mid-1930s. An incident involving the double-act Clapham and Dwyer in 1935 was recalled by Variety producer Charles Chilton:

I remember Clapham and Dwyer… they got lost in their script and they improvised and so Clapham said, ‘What’s the difference between a champagne cork and a baby?’ ‘I don’t know, what is the difference between a champagne cork and a baby?’ ‘Well the champagne cork has the name of its maker on it!’32

The Corporation broadcast an apology to listeners, and the artists were temporarily suspended from broadcasting because of what was considered to be a joke in bad taste. A barely-veiled threat to both artists and Variety staff was also issued: ‘If the BBC tradition were to be violated again in the near future, accidentally or otherwise, penalties would have to be exacted, internal as well as external’.33 Advertising was also proscribed by the Programme Board with Henry Hall’s Guest Night being cited as the main offender due to visiting artists publicising their own shows on his programme. Hall’s song Radio Times, despite being the name of a BBC publication, had been banned in 1934 on grounds of advertising—an indication that the BBC’s policy applied even to itself. The Board also resolved that the programme should be subject to stricter censorship with someone other than Hall conducting the interviews. Soon after, more precise guidance on propriety was sought by the North Region Director who received a typically vague response, advising him to be guided by common sense, good judgement and the standard practice of the Corporation. The Handbook of Variety Routine, mentioned earlier, also represented an important stage in the development of a Variety censorship policy. Included was a single sheet of paper entitled Artists’ Material—a list of topics deemed unsuitable for broadcasting which was designed to ensure that artists did not include anything in their scripts considered to be objectionable. A copy of this was included with each contract and the BBC could reject any material without explanation. Artists could not advertise, make reference to 62 M. DIBBS religion or biblical quotations, to any physical or fatal medical condition, drunkenness, or any prominent person. Additionally, reference to any stage production in which they were appearing was prohibited. Sexual matters were raised for the first time with an embargo placed on allusions to marital infidelity, immorality and effeminacy in men.Radio Pictorial commended the BBC’s stand on censorship and praised the authors:

who realise the immensity of their audience, who are sympathetic to its widely varied views and feelings, and are thereby making British broadcasting an entertainment suitable for any kind of home in any kind of circumstance.34

Artists’ Material was developed specifically for Variety Department use. There was no universal policy on censorship across the BBC, although this was partially remedied in May 1937 when at least two other departments, both of whom took programmes from Variety, published lists of prohibitions. For example, Children’s Hour categorically forbade:

Unnecessary references to blind, deaf or dumb. Stuttering, madness, physical defects, such as hare lip… All common Cockney expressions, or corrup- tions, such as: ‘blimey’, ‘cripes’, ‘lor’, ‘lumme’, ‘S’welp me’, ‘crikey’ ‘blinkin’. Unnecessary lurid or descriptive detail in animal or adventure stories…References to liquor excepting only where necessary, e.g. ‘rum’ in Treasure Island, otherwise we try to adopt polite mediaeval terms such as ‘ale’, ‘mead’, ‘cordial’…Derogatory references to Roman Catholics or Roman Catholic Institutions.35

Concern for racial issues was beginning to emerge at this time although it was limited in extent. While there was no intention to insult, the casual racism of the day continued to be visible. The Empire Department, unlike Children’s Hour, advocated discretion rather than compulsion, and its list reflected its expected audience:

It was suggested that the following terms be either banned or used with the greatest caution. On the whole, we felt that caution would, in many cases, be preferable to a direct prohibition. Reds or Bolshies Niggers or Blacks Dagoes Yids Derogatory references to ex-enemies, e.g. Huns.36 1933–1939: THE SHOW BEGINS 63

The recommendation concluded with caution on the use of the term ‘natives’, advising ‘it is better to replace it with the name of the race concerned…or by some other colourful term, such as “islanders” or “aborigines”’. The shortcomings of the Handbook’s guidance quickly became apparent as the Department, whether through inadequacy of policy or an insufficient awareness of public sensitivity, was soon issuing a multiplicity of prohibition memos in response to internal directives and public complaints. For example, in November 1936, reference to ‘Jeff [sic] the Mongoose’ was proscribed; in February 1937 the phrase ‘sex appeal’ was banned as were jokes about asthma the following month.37 In August 1938, producers were reminded that while juvenile vocalists could broadcast with dance bands, they were not allowed to sing ‘sentimental commercial ballads’. Despite Artist’s Material, there was a perception, largely among the press, that vulgarity in programmes was growing rather than being eliminated, and this provided them with another reason to lambast the BBC. In 1937 Radio Pictorial complained about the growing laxity in Variety programmes where there seemed to be an increase in the use of epithets and suggestiveness in comedy material. Worse still, the miscreants seemed to go unpunished and broadcast more regularly.38 The following year producers were accused, among other things, of relaxing their standards, acting out of ‘fatigue and haste’ and being afraid to tinker with successful music hall scripts. It also suggested that comedians disguised vulgarity during rehearsals although it was admitted that occasionally genuine mistakes were made.39 Radio Pictorial could also be sympathetic towards the BBC and accused complainants of sometimes being over-sensitive to radio humour, citing objections by a trades union to jokes about Labour Exchange clerks and by the Magistrates’ Association about the programme Mr. Muddlecombe JP (1937–53). The article also encouraged jokes about Jews, Scots and the Irish which it suggested, if couched in a genial manner, could promote social harmony.40 Outside broadcasts from music halls and variety theatres were a particular area of difficulty. Audiences for these went in expectation of a less-restrained performance on the part of artists while the BBC expected absolute standards of propriety. These contrasting views posed a dilemma, particularly as there was a belief within some quarters of the BBC that a degree of latitude applied to outside broadcasts. In January 1937 the Western Region Director requested more discretion with outside broad- 64 M. DIBBS casts, arguing that when there was a relay from a music hall, the radio audience should know what to expect and adjust their listening habits accordingly.41 Cecil Graves, Controller of Programmes, dismissed this suggestion and insisted that a common standard of decency applied across the whole of the BBC.42 With bans now in force affecting much broadcast humour, Graves had further cause to complain to the Variety Department soon afterwards about comedians apologising to radio audiences for not being vulgar enough as it was not allowed by the BBC.43 In 1939, John Watt summed up the restrictions surrounding propriety in Variety broadcasting. In addition to sex and marital infidelity, medical conditions like stuttering and deafness could not be mocked. Humorous references to race and religion while recognised as being impolite were glossed over in a half-hearted manner. Complaints from certain occupa- tions such as commercial travellers, plumbers and laundrymen had been received in the past and Watt dismissed these as ‘silly’. He seemed resigned to the fact that:

There are not very many things left about which to be funny on radio. It is said that there are only six jokes in the world and I can assure you that we cannot broadcast three of them.44

While he bemoaned the constraints these restrictions imposed on Variety productions, once the war began, he would find himself defending the Department and its actions from criticism, much of which would orig- inate from within the BBC.

America: Opposition and Influences Reference has already been made in Chap. 2 to the perceived undue American influence on British popular culture. One of the outward signs of this was the increasing presence of American English and slang in everyday speech. American cinema had a major impact, particularly on the younger generation, many of whom emulated the accents, catchphrases, mannerisms and fashions of Hollywood. Basil Maine, the Sunday Times music critic, sensing the dilution of British culture, blamed American films not only for changes in everyday speech but also for the decline in the British sense of humour. To Maine, Britain seemed to be tacitly acquiescent: 1933–1939: THE SHOW BEGINS 65

we submit to an invasion more devastating and far-reaching than any physical onslaught could be. The irony of it all is that unfortunately it is being carried out in the name of entertainment.45

The appearance of Americanisms in radio light entertainment was growing, and, with large audiences for these programmes, there were fears of an irreversible effect on spoken English. These concerns were articulated in 1936 following a furious response from Cecil Graves regarding the content of an outside broadcast of a new programme. He expressed his deep concern about increasing numbers of Americanisms appearing in Variety programmes:

I notice it creeping in … [s]uch expressions as “We bring to you”, “We offer you”, etc. are examples…There is no demand for this kind of thing and we certainly don’t want to create one…I know we are quite capable of putting on excellent shows without making use of jargon that is distasteful to a great number of our listeners and which we should do nothing to popularise.46

This was paradoxical as Graves, one of the small elite within the BBC who had a key role in policymaking, had previously praised the earliest series of rebroadcast light entertainment programmes from America, Five Hours Back (1935–36), which featured light music, crooning and comedy.47 Radio Pictorial insisted that the BBC could not compete with America in programme presentation. American presenters were praised (and well paid) for their showmanship which was singularly lacking at the BBC, and while BBC stars worked hard, they seemed to be inhibited. With a ‘real showman’ at the top it suggested, the BBC would be ‘the greatest wireless programme in the world.’48 There were other voices urging more open-mindedness concerning the English spoken by both Americans and other nations. These included Alastair Cooke, then employed as a film critic for the BBC, and Professor A. Lloyd James, the Secretary of the BBC Advisory Committee on Spoken English. The Listener made a plea for ‘a critical tolerance for our traditional and auto- matic prejudices’.49 Later, Lloyd James renewed his plea:

The popular opinion that American English is a debased form of Standard English is an opinion that no intelligent man should hold for more than five seconds…there is as much bad English spoken in these islands as there is in America.50 66 M. DIBBS

Despite reservations on the use of American idiom, the BBC regarded its transatlantic relationship as mutually beneficial. Indeed, since 1924 the BBC had sent senior staff to America on goodwill and study missions including Reith in 1931 and Cecil Graves in 1935. These visits were later extended to more junior members of staff including those involved in light entertainment.51 At Reith’s instigation, the BBC opened an office in New York in 1936 to publicise itself in North America and to formalise programme arrangements with their national broadcasters. There was also a regular exchange of programmes between the two countries, but because of the time difference, the BBC tended to take more programmes from America. Typical of ‘respectable’ programming from America was American Commentary from 1935, a weekly programme on American political themes by the broadcast and print journalist Raymond Gram Swing and Mainly About Manhattan, Alastair Cooke’s personal musings on American life. Two programmes from the Variety Department were I Hear America Singing produced by Charles Chilton, a series on the history of American folk song, and America Dances, a series of live broadcasts of swing music by America’s top big bands aimed at the British connoisseur of jazz. The BBC reserved its praise for American programmes with a more intellectual content but, by contrast, was silent on popular entertainment. As the minutes of a contemporary Programme Board meeting revealed, there was disagreement among output departments regarding the level of American content in programmes.52 The Variety Department was principally affected and in a memo from Maschwitz to Cecil Graves linked to this meeting, he stated that the perception of Americanisation of Variety programmes was exaggerated and only three programmes were overtly American. A show like Café Colette, which transported listeners to Paris, needed to be idiomatically French, Music Hall was indisputably British, and equally, where American material was used in programmes, it was logical to maintain the American idiom. As Maschwitz wrote:

Dance music must unfortunately be somewhat American in character because of its origin and the fact that the words of most of the dance songs if sung in any other accent but an American one sound even more idiotic than they actually are.53

Roger Eckersley, Assistant Controller of Programmes, reported that executives in charge of News, Empire Services and Schools Broadcasting were also concerned about the effects of Americanisation. One hoped for 1933–1939: THE SHOW BEGINS 67 the elimination of all American entertainment while another suggested that humour in the style of P.G. Wodehouse represented a more suitable domestic approach. John Coatman, the North Region Director, was more vociferous in his condemnation. Eckersley, having experienced American radio, was alive to the need to consider American ideas as an option in order to appeal more widely to the listening public. He felt that more tolerance of America was needed from senior staff:

[Coatman] was violently opposed to any form of Americanisation in our programmes, and I personally dislike his insular attitude intensely. He speaks of America as a country completely composed of barbarians and it would do him a lot of good to go over there and see that there are plenty of things that they do just as well as we do here and that they have their own cultural ideals.54

Richard Lambert, former editor of The Listener, cautioned against assuming that the BBC’s programmes were the world’s best. He argued that, despite being highly commercialised, the American model of broadcasting offered the merits of speed, slickness, freshness and topicality. While sponsorship of programmes had been rejected outright by the BBC, where appropriate the American approach could improve programme quality.55 While the majority of the BBC’s listeners would not have heard authentic live American radio, many would have experienced the next best thing in the guise of European commercial radio stations, Radio Luxembourg and Radio Normandie. Both were financed by advertising sponsorship and used American programme techniques including an informal style of presentation, in contrast to the reserve of the BBC. To illustrate this, Paddy Scannell and David Cardiff contrasted Luxembourg’s Kraft Show with its ‘barbed repartee and showbiz ballyhoo which was the hallmark of American radio variety…[while the]…BBC’s Band Waggon was a much more sophisticated programme both technically and in its whimsical, innocent humour’.56 From the late 1930s, mounting press criticism of the BBC’s light entertainment output from licence payers and the popular press, together with the success of the European commercial radio stations, all gradually led the BBC to adopt and adapt some American ideas and techniques. This was not achieved without a certain amount of heated debate within the Corporation. There were two important developments in British broadcasting which originated in America and benefitted both the programme 68 M. DIBBS makers and the listeners. These were the series format for programmes and fixed-point programming for scheduling, where programmes were broadcast at a regular time during the day or week. The adoption of the series format—creating programmes using a template—eased production problems to some extent. Unlike the one-off elaborate productions characteristic of the Maschwitz era, series-type programmes made for greater ease and flexibility in production. They were cheap to produce and were an attractive proposition to artists because of the possibility of longer contracts and the opportunity to develop characters, giving them a chance to become established in the mind of the audience.57 Writers and producers were relieved of constantly having to come up with new ideas and situations for programmes. As Maschwitz later wrote:

[the producer] can build up his effect upon a gentler curve; he has time in which to create characters, establish atmosphere, coin catch phrases, and by reiteration accustom his audience to a convention.58

The format became popular during the 1930s and produced some influential programmes which would lay the foundation for many post-war Variety productions. Reith had encouraged mixed programming in order to surprise listeners with programmes they might not otherwise have listened to and to help check ‘tap’ (or background) listening. However, this could be irritating for the audience who might tune in at the same time the following week expecting variety but finding a concert or talk instead. For fixed-point scheduling, programmes in series format were ideal because it helped to establish a shape to the listening day, enabled the radio audience to associate particular programmes with regular days and times and helped build large and loyal audiences. From 1933 a few of the most popular Variety programmes were allocated regular time slots. This was an early sign of the dilution of Reith’s ideas on public service broadcasting, and following his departure from the BBC in 1938, there was an increase in the number of programmes which were allocated a fixed point in the broadcasting schedule and this applied particularly to Variety productions.

Variety’s Home-Grown Programmes Some of the Department’s most popular early programmes carried over from pre-Variety Department days and included The Kentucky Minstrels and Songs from the Shows. The concert party type show, by now distinctly 1933–1939: THE SHOW BEGINS 69 old-fashioned, was still enjoyed, while music hall and variety theatre also remained popular in programmes such as Palace of Varieties and Music Hall, both of which survived into the early 1950s. During the 1930s this type of entertainment was gradually superseded by the Department’s first generation of radio-specific programmes. In Town Tonight, for example, was an immediate success. Devised by Eric Maschwitz in 1933 but initially without much idea of what the final product would be, the show began with ‘the roar of London’s traffic’ being stopped by the announcer. This was followed by the signature tune, Eric Coates’s Knightsbridge March from his newly composed London Suite.59 The show, which barely changed its format throughout its 27-year life, was the first radio chat show bringing both the famous and unknown to the microphone, particularly those with an interesting occupation or who had a story to tell.60 This idea was extended in October 1938 when Maschwitz’s successor John Watt added a new feature ‘Standing on the Corner’, in which Michael Standing of the Outside Broadcasts Department interviewed random people in the street and solicited their opinions on topical items. Café Colette, also devised and produced by Maschwitz, was essentially a programme of continental dance music set in a faux Parisian setting and intended as an alternative to American jazz. In reality it was a London studio production and Eric Maschwitz recalled that his team had:

attempted to reproduce the atmosphere of a noisy establishment abroad, with the popping of champagne corks, and conversation in fluent French “overheard” from members of the audience (we even employed a waiter from Soho to call supper orders down an imaginary lift-shaft to a non- existent kitchen).61

So realistic was the programme that Maschwitz claimed that an unintentional hoax had been played on the audience particularly as many listeners had written letters to the imaginary establishment in Paris, which were forwarded to the BBC by the French Postal Service. Two other ground-breaking series were Monday Night at Seven (later Monday Night at Eight) (1937–48) and Band Waggon (1938–39). The former was an hour-long magazine show comprising four distinct compo- nents which eventually included the first broadcast quiz Puzzle( Corner) and the first weekly detective thriller (Inspector Hornleigh Investigates). Band Waggon featured the comedy duo Arthur Askey and Richard Murdoch and was centred on Askey and Murdoch’s fictitious flat above 70 M. DIBBS

Broadcasting House. After an inauspicious start, the format settled down to comedy spots interspersed by musical numbers and regular features which included ‘Chestnut Corner’ (old jokes separated by funny noises), ‘Mr. Walker Wants to Know’, a radio problem to be solved by the audience and ‘New Voices’, a talent spot. It spawned many catchphrases and was the first radio comedy series, the first to feature situation comedy and the first programme to include resident comedians. It was not just comedy and music-based programmes which Variety could count among its successes. Scrapbook was a highly popular semi- historical radio documentary series which began in December 1933 and ran for 41 years. Each episode took a particular year in the twentieth century as its subject matter and was illustrated by interviews, archive recordings, music and dramatised versions of events. The American influence was evident in popular programming with It’s That Man Again (ITMA, 1939–49), based on the quick-fire humour of the Burns and Allen Show and Danger! — Men At Work (1939–47) modelled on the Marx Brothers comedy style. Eric Maschwitz commissioned Carroll Levis to produce his Canadian talent show for the BBC, and this became a favourite radio programme of 1936. Dramatic serials, similar to American radio soap operas, made their appearance with The English Family Robinson (1937–38), a serial about suburban life which was written by Mabel Constanduros after she heard about the successful American series One Man’s Family. It was deeply disliked by Val Gielgud, the Director of Drama who later wrote:

For the introduction of this first of the soap-opera style serials into British broadcasting I must accept full responsibility. It was a time when we were perhaps more influenced than we should have been at Broadcasting House by trends and fashions in American Radio.62

This programme was reconstituted in 1940 by a new scriptwriter as Front Line Family, a daily series for the BBC’s North American Service which told the story of a typical British wartime family. The programme was popular and, having been renamed The Robinson Family in 1945, ran continuously until 1947. All these programmes represented a huge achievement for the Department in a relatively short time and being programmes made specifically for radio, marked the gradual departure from the medium’s reliance on traditional forms of entertainment. 1933–1939: THE SHOW BEGINS 71

Dance Music and Crooning Music played a significant part in many Variety Department productions with dance band programmes, musical comedies, minstrel shows and concert parties. Organ concerts were particularly popular and the BBC Theatre Organ was installed in the Variety Department’s home, St George’s Hall, in 1936 with resident organist Reginald Foort. Dance music and jazz were considered to be purely recreational forms of music, and they were therefore the responsibility of the Variety Department, which was also in charge of the Variety Orchestra and the BBC Dance Orchestra. Jazz, crooning and dance music came under scrutiny from the BBC’s top management and were frequently considered together in policy discussions. While dance music was considered to be of low cultural standing, it remained highly popular with the listening public being described by Eric Maschwitz as ‘the popular music of the day…the music that is whistled by the butcher’s boy and hummed at the factory benches’. However, as a percentage of programme time, dance music declined: in 1934 it was 8.55 and 9.97 per cent respectively of the National and Regional Programme’s output which by 1938 had declined to 4.59 and 9.24 per cent.63 British dance and popular music became increasingly dominated by America in the inter-war years when the public were able to hear its well-crafted and popular songs through gramophone records, the radio and the cinema. In 1919, 74 per cent of the most popular tunes were American, and this figure increased to 84 per cent by 1930 due to American record companies adopting successful marketing and distribution techniques.64 For Radio Times, the future of the British popular song looked bleak:

Each week millions of film enthusiasts see and hear American talkies and become acquainted with their music, often to the exclusion of many tuneful numbers which are written over here.65

However, there was some good news for British songwriters. In 1931, the BBC estimated that the song content of its Dance Orchestra broadcasts was 50 per cent British to 40 per cent American.66 In 1936 Radio Pictorial, in support of British songwriters, complained that the BBC was broadcasting songs disguised as British because they were published in Britain. Later that year, under pressure from British songwriters, the BBC set a quota of a minimum of 20 per cent British tunes in any dance music broadcast.67 72 M. DIBBS

American dance music was considered by BBC management to have a patina of vulgarity. If it had to be broadcast, then the BBC would produce a gentler and more subdued British style which was felt to be more suitable for radio audiences. It had employed its own dance orchestra since 1928 under the direction of Jack Payne. Following the departure of Payne and his musicians in 1932, the orchestra was reformed under Henry Hall. While his work defined dance music on radio for the next five years, his fate was sealed when Eric Maschwitz instituted a major change in policy, writing:

[I] am still slightly puzzled by the fact that, think as I will, I can find no good reason for retaining the band at the conclusion of its present contact. (I feel there ought to be an argument in favour of it, but I can’t for the life of me think what it can be).68

He argued that the £30,000 annual cost of the Dance Orchestra could be better spent on developing new types of programmes using the best outside bands which had been gradually making more appearances in the schedules, while at the same time forming a dance band section in the Variety Department which would monitor the loathed song plugging and crooning. However, the BBC’s control would not be lost under the new policy since there were more than enough top bands to replace those who would not conform to its wishes. Hall left the BBC in September 1937, and the Orchestra was then replaced by outside bands which were cheaper and provided more choice for the radio audience. While this may have indicated the beginning of a relaxation in the direct control of dance music, as will be shown later, the BBC maintained control of output by categorising dance music programmes and matching bands accordingly. Crooning was closely linked to dance music but detested by BBC top management. This was a vocal technique which initially involved whisper- ing a song into a microphone in a highly stylised manner and subsequently referred to over-sentimental singing. The technique originated in America in 1926 and was credited to New York radio singer Jack Smith. The problem for the Corporation was that crooning was not only considered to be lacking in masculinity but it was also American in origin. Efforts were made throughout the 1930s and the war years by the BBC to remove crooning from radio programmes. In 1933 Radio Times confidently predicted that crooning would lead to the downfall of the popular song and offered a way to eradicate it: 1933–1939: THE SHOW BEGINS 73

make the microphone less handy. Set high up in the ceiling…it would force [the crooner] to open his mouth and sing, or else, better still, to be silent… once we are rid of the crooner, now regarded as an integral part of the dance orchestra, popular songs will be vital and robust again.69

Similarly, the Daily Dispatch’s radio correspondent pleaded with Reith to ‘suppress this nightly wailing…[of]…love sick, sentimental songs which form so large a part of dance band and miscellaneous gramophone hours’.70 By contrast, Henry Hall argued that crooning had contributed to the popularity of dance band music and that it should be allowed to develop as a new art form.71 Radio Pictorial argued on both sides of the debate. Sometimes it was critical:

The microphone is the salvation of people who have no voice in the ordinary singing sense. What is really wanted is an English school of light songsters… This crooning is not English. It has been borrowed from America. Easily proved. Every single crooner assumes an American accent. To allow crooning to be regarded as an art in singing is wrong from every point of view. It is sheer charlatanism. We have allowed our American friends to get us into slovenly habits. It is time we did something about it.72

Sometimes it maintained that for the majority of the listening public, crooning was a legitimate form of singing and fan mail easily outweighed press criticism. Al Bowlly, arguably Britain’s greatest crooner, claimed that a rare ability was required when conveying sincerity and atmosphere in a song.73 Later the magazine questioned whether crooners were being treated fairly by the BBC in restricting vocal tunes in broadcasts to every third number, why crooners were the butt of jokes and why the term had acquired a disreputable status. It argued that as the majority of programmes on commercial radio comprised nightly dance music featuring crooners, this indicated its popularity.74 At the BBC Programme Board in March 1934, it was noted that there was a large body of opinion unfavourable to crooning—although who this comprised was not made clear. It was however agreed that there should be a trial period of a reduction in crooning and that the public view would lead future practice.75 In January 1936 alterations were proposed to improve the overall quality of dance music. More outside bands were to be introduced to provide a greater variety of dance music. Songs could be included in dance music programmes but had to be performed by bona 74 M. DIBBS fide singers rather than crooners. Three months later, wishing to re-impose control, an irritated Controller (Programmes) noted that crooners were still broadcasting and complained:

I can see no reason why crooning, which is a particularly odious form of singing, should not be obliterated straight away…Will you please arrange for this to be put into effect here and now.76

The problem was that there was no ready definition of what crooning was and later that year, Radio Times reported that all band vocalists would have to audition before they broadcast. Despite periodic edicts for its immediate cessation during the 1930s, crooning survived because of its popularity and the inability of the BBC to provide a sufficiently tight definition to bring production staff to heel. It continued to be written about favourably, sentimentally and sometimes scathingly in Radio Times. Here was a situation where top management said one thing yet tacitly permitted the complete opposite.

Some Like It Hot Jazz, uniquely an American art form, was tolerated but loathed by certain sections of BBC senior management. In 1933 Radio Times complained that jazz was being imposed by the New World on the Old, but it would never be part of British culture because it was alien to the national tem- perament.77 Consequently when jazz was played by the BBC, like dance music, it was generally reinterpreted and reformulated to make it acceptable to British audiences. Throughout the 1930s jazz remained problematic because of its perceived undesirable American and sexual associations and continued to be the subject of much internal debate within the BBC. Few in the BBC had any knowledge of jazz. The terms jazz and swing were frequently conflated with dance music, and it became easier to regard them as a sub-class of dance music rather than separate genres. Roger Eckersley, then Director of Programmes, had the difficult task of balancing the needs of the audience with top management’s view of the world. In reply to a note from Reith regarding the amount and nature of jazz broadcasts, Eckersley indicated that the BBC was restricting rather than promoting its output to appeal to a variety of tastes among its listeners.78 1933–1939: THE SHOW BEGINS 75

Despite management objections, jazz continued to appear on radio and in the first six months of 1937, swing was broadcast and sourced from live relays from America and the continent, gramophone records and live music from British bands. These programmes provided excellence in performance to ‘inculcate a standard of taste and appreciation for “quality” in jazz’. Swing that Music, a series of live jam sessions from London and the continent on alternate weeks, formed part of these broadcasts. The series began in April 1937 and was organised by Leslie Perowne of the Gramophone Department and presented by Edgar Jackson, former editor of Melody Maker. The initial programme proved popular with listeners, but the programme planners criticised the Department for its ‘lamentable’ presentation and lack of understanding of the BBC’s policy on swing music.79 Cecil Graves added to the opprobrium:

The sub-title of last night’s 8.20 show…was “A Jam Session”. What on earth that means I don’t know. Is it a new Americanism or is it some kind of bright (?) idea on somebody’s part? In the event, this kind of title is quite meaningless…I think we must institute some form of central supervision, so as to prevent this sort of thing.80

Despite this complaint, the programmes continued when he was pla- cated with a promise that Oxford-educated Harman Grisewood, one of the few people in the BBC who understood jazz, would supervise them. In addition to this criticism, there was a continuing problem with fees for top musicians which Leslie Perowne tried to resolve when he wrote to John Watt requesting an increased financial allocation for continental bands. Despite the engagement of artists of the calibre of the Quintette du Hot Club de France and American band leader Benny Carter, the Variety Bookings Department were, more often than not, resolute in their tight- fistedness. Carter requested a £70 fee as he needed to augment his band in order to play his arrangements, but he had to be content with the meagre £50 offered; the Quintette were engaged for £30. Later in 1937, Leslie Perowne commissioned Leonard Hibbs, editor of the magazine Swing Music, to write and present a 13-programme series entitled The History of Jazz. In a Radio Times article previewing the series, Hibbs emphasised that the growing audience for jazz wanted to know more about the music in order to better understand it. Despite Hibbs’s article, an official, unaware of the programme’s existence, was vexed by the number of programmes commissioned and reacted predictably on hearing the first in the series: 76 M. DIBBS

I confess I was yet more alarmed when…I turned to my daytime programmes and discovered that that afternoon we were to be committed to a sequence of thirteen talks on “The History of Jazz”. This…is quite out of order and I hope you will bring it home to Perowne that he was at no time authorized to commit us in this way.81

Reith became involved, particularly in relation to the prominence that jazz was accorded in Radio Times and The Listener. Sir Stephen Tallents, Controller (Public Relations), recognised that jazz had a wide following among the listening public and offered Reith an accommodation. He reminded Reith that a new dance music policy would begin in the autumn schedule in which dance band programmes would be split into three categories with jazz, comprising largely swing music, being presented as high-status broadcasts largely for the cognoscenti. This would also be in accordance with the BBC’s policy of providing the best of everything. Tallents also suggested that the profile of jazz in BBC publications be downplayed. ‘Tempo di Jazz’ the Radio Times column written by respected jazz critic Leonard Feather, which had been running since January 1936, would be renamed ‘Signature Tune’ although the content would be unchanged. He also proposed that Leonard Hibbs’s History of Jazz talks should continue to be reproduced in The Listener but in a scaled-down form. Reith reluctantly accepted this compromise but he warned, ‘please keep an eye on the matter, because it is only by vigilance that good will come and ill be averted’, an indication that such matters constituted a threat to his broadcasting philosophy.82 Within the BBC, jazz was originally thought of as just a phase in the development of dance music which would eventually disappear to be replaced by some other influence. However, it showed no sign of fading away and clearly needed to be monitored in order to ensure that if it had to be broadcast to serve a section of the audience, then its output had to be strictly controlled. Although there was a minority audience for authentic jazz, it was still difficult to obtain permission to allow such programmes to be broadcast. Popularisation of the art form was not easy even with a nucleus of predominantly middle-class jazz enthusiasts who could normally be expected to be trusted in their judgement by an unenlightened management. These enthusiasts included Harman Grisewood, then a programme organiser, and Leslie Perowne whose jazz interests were tolerated, it has been suggested, because he was the son of the Bishop of Winchester.83 Charles Chilton who had joined the BBC in January 1933 as a messenger boy, later 1933–1939: THE SHOW BEGINS 77 becoming an assistant in the Gramophone Department and subsequently a radio producer, was also enthused by jazz. He was famously removed as the presenter of the popular jazz record programme Swingtime after John Watt tuned in to find out the programme’s attraction and was horrified to hear Chilton’s cockney voice. Chilton later recalled that with help from announcer Stuart Hibberd and Leslie Perowne, he modified his accent and John Watt later permitted him to return to presenting programmes. In overcoming resistance to jazz at the BBC and to get his programmes broadcast, Chilton was not averse to resorting to subterfuge. He recalled that when compiling the programme on the life of Louis Armstrong in the semi-dramatised Kings of Jazz series, BBC senior management had decreed that the accompanying records needed to have the approval of the Master of the King’s Musick, Sir Walford Davies. Chilton was anxious to broadcast his programme with the least amount of resistance from the BBC and, as a precaution in case the playing of Louis Armstrong might be a bit too much for some in the radio audience, temporarily substituted Armstrong’s recordings with those of the British jazz trumpet player Nat Gonella. The records were duly presented to Sir Walford Davies by Leslie Perowne, and the Master of the King’s Musick pronounced himself satisfied that the music would not corrupt the minds of the radio audience commenting ‘I don’t think there’s anything here that could possibly harm the British listener’.84 The programme went ahead. Despite senior management’s attitude to jazz and their anti-American stance, a series of live relays from America was broadcast during 1937 and 1938 under the title America Dances. These broadcasts included the top American big bands of the time and proved to be extremely popular with the radio audience.85 That these broadcasts were permitted was largely due to the efforts, enthusiasm and tenacity of Chilton, Grisewood and Perowne together with Felix Greene, the BBC’s North America Representative in New York. Equally successful were two specially arranged jam sessions which were transmitted live from New York City in November 1938 and January 1939, introduced by Alastair Cooke and broadcast at peak listening time, although only on the regional network. These high-profile but minority interest swing programmes, about which top BBC management were lukewarm, could not have been arranged and broadcast without the acquiescence of those in authority. Following the departure of Reith in mid-1938, the pace of change towards a general lightening of programmes quickened, and this coincided with a more liberal attitude towards the broadcasting of jazz. 78 M. DIBBS

A Hierarchy of Dance Music Following the success of America Dances, Harman Grisewood submitted a rational and well-argued confidential report on dance music in June 1937. This gave an overview of the development and present state of jazz and recommended the establishment of a comprehensive policy on dance band music. For him, straight dance music while functional was ‘decayed’ and ‘sentimental’. Although broadcast dance music amounted to 15 hours per week, he suggested that the programmes had drifted away from their original purpose of music to dance to at home and had degenerated into:

a muddled hotch-potch of styles and items…we want good tunes and good playing. We do not want a dance band session to exfoliate into a variety act. We produce variety acts of our own and do not want a dance band leader to do these for us unless we so direct.86

By comparison swing, a musical form with its roots in the jazz tradition, required a high level of musical competence and was far more engaging and durable. With few exceptions, this music was only available in Britain by live relay from America and on gramophone records. Grisewood accorded swing a prestigious and unique status, arguing that where music of this quality was available, the audience should have the opportunity to hear it. He called for a re-examination of dance band policy and suggested that the music needed to be categorised according to the capability and style of particular bands. He also stressed not only the need for a higher standard of performance but also the widening of the appeal of the genre. He appreciated that the audience could not be considered as one homogeneous mass, rather that different sections of the audience had differing expectations of the music in line with their contrasting tastes. His report led to a policy which aimed to maximise the appeal of dance music by having particular programmes aimed at specific sections of the radio audience. From October 1937, dance band music programmes were divided into three categories and administered by a new dance music section within the Variety Department. These categories were dance music without vocals for listeners who just wanted to dance to the radio at home, dance band programmes with vocals aimed at people who wanted to listen and be entertained rather than to dance, and programmes which acknowledged the minority audience for jazz—the ‘connoisseur’ audience. This category featured live swing music by American and continental bands together with corresponding record programmes.87 The creation of the dance music hierarchy recognised 1933–1939: THE SHOW BEGINS 79 the different tastes of the audience. Dance bands were now allocated to their appropriate category, and differentiation of dance music programmes was an important step in the overall improvement of the quality of all dance band music. For the first time, jazz was officially sanctioned for broadcasting and was accorded the most prestigious status in the hierarchy. If the audience wanted jazz, then it would have the best. Here was the BBC simultaneously responding to and shaping audience demand. This change was welcomed by the radio press, and the result of Grisewood’s report was to inform dance band policy until the war.88

The Demon Drink The subject of drink was a popular topic with comedians and one which was guaranteed to generate laughter. From the late 1930s, teetotal organisations were actively critical of the mention of alcohol in radio programmes. 1937 was a particularly busy year which may have been prompted by ‘The Fleet’s Lit Up’ incident in which Thomas Woodrooffe, a retired naval Lieutenant-Commander employed by the BBC as a commentator, having met some of his former naval colleagues prior to the event, gave a drunken report on the Spithead Naval Review.89 The Independent Order of Rechabites passed a resolution at its 1937 conference deploring the frequent reference to strong drink in BBC programmes, and in November they sent a deputation to Broadcasting House.90 In September 1937 the Free Church Journal complained of 296 references to alcohol in programmes over a two-week period. Later that month the United Kingdom Alliance objected to a programme entitled The BBC Presents the ABC of the Letter X, which included the explanation of how the letter applied to the strength of beer. In November the Methodist Church in Birmingham expressed concern about the increasing references to alcohol particularly in Variety programmes.91 The drink controversy was picked up by the press and Radio Pictorial commented:

Whatever temperance organisations do, the BBC will never sign the pledge because beer is part of the life of the people and, therefore, must inevitably be represented in the songs and jokes of the people.92

The BBC frequently stated that because of its need to remain independent in areas of public debate it could not express a view on alcohol; it neither advocated teetotalism nor accepted advertisements for drink in its 80 M. DIBBS publications. The Corporation insisted that it took its responsibilities seriously and, while regarding much of the criticism as unreasonable, assured its complainants that strong language and references to drink were kept to a minimum, only used when essential and issued instructions to output departments to this effect.93 Policy was clear. Alcohol could be legit- imately mentioned in light entertainment programmes although drunkenness was not to be regarded as being humorous and could not be mentioned unnecessarily. Nothing was to be broadcast which was contrary to good taste and no direct incitement to drink or the use of trade slogans was per- missible. Programmes looking at drink from a sociological angle or describing the production of alcohol required the permission of senior management; even referring to medical use of alcohol as a stimulant had to be avoided.

Sunday Policy and Continental Competition Since Sunday was the day of rest and leisure time for the population, it also had the greatest potential for attracting the largest audiences. However, the BBC’s policy was that its duty in a Christian country was to produce programmes which marked the day as different from the rest of the week— ‘different’ being used in the sense of being culturally and recreationally restorative—rather than providing pure escapism. Reith had set out his view on Sunday observance in 1924 which remained unchanged during his tenure as Director-General:

The secularizing of [Sunday] is one of the most significant and unfortunate trends of modern life…Apart from any puritanical nonsense, I believe that Sabbaths should be one of the unviable assets of our existence – “quiet islands on the tossing sea of life”…It is a sad reflection on human intelligence if recreation is only to be found in the distractions of excitement – if no provisions are to be made for re-creation of the mind and refreshment of the spirit.94

For Reith the day was not just one free of jazz and variety but one in which ‘there is a criterion or standard – intellectual if you like – which is supposed to apply to Sunday work with no religious implications whatever’.95 Of the programmes provided, he wrote:

[Those] which are broadcast on Sunday are therefore framed with the day itself in mind. There need be nothing dull in them. If they are dull or if they be thought so, then something is wrong somewhere. It may simply amount to this, that certain things are not done on Sundays which are done during the week.96 1933–1939: THE SHOW BEGINS 81

Consequently, until the war, the BBC restricted broadcasting on Sundays and the day was characterised by programmes of a serious nature; they were mainly educative, informative and reflective and largely comprised symphony concerts, chamber music and religious programmes, including church services. The restricted service and staid fare of the Reithian Sunday even prompted the Ullswater Committee in their report of 1935 to comment on the ‘lack of attractiveness’ of the day’s programmes. A sample BBC Sunday schedule for this period (Table 3.2) included little popular entertainment, when compared to Radio Luxembourg for the same day (Table 3.3).

Table 3.2 BBC National Programme: schedule for Sunday, 21 March 1937

Time Programme and details

10:30 a.m. Weather Forecast for farmers and shipping 10:45 Interval 10:55 A Religious Service (C. of E.) from St. Mark’s, North Audley St. [London] 12:00 midday The BBC Midland Orchestra 1:30 p.m. Eugene Pini and his Tango Orchestra 2:00 In Your Garden with C.H. Middleton and Reginald Perry 2:20 Enfield Central Band 3:00 Bach’s St. Matthew Passion 4:10 The Meaning of Holy Week 4:30 The New Georgian Trio 5:00 Religion and Reason — 4: Answers to Listeners’ Questions—Rev. Father M.C. D’Arcy 5:20 The BBC Orchestra 6:15 As Others See Us [An American’s candid impression of Great Britain and British policy] 6:30 Brahms—1, String Sextet in G, Op. 36 7:10 Reginald Foort at the BBC Theatre Organ 7:50 Interval 7:55 A Religious Service (C. of E.) from St. Mary’s, Portsea, Portsmouth 8:45 The Week’s Good Cause 8:50 News 9:05 Look to Your Moate: the story of the English Channel by Arthur Bryant 9:50 A Recital: Parry Jones (tenor), Frida Kindler (pianoforte) 10:30 Epilogue

Source: RT 703, 19 March 1937 82 M. DIBBS

Table 3.3 Radio Luxembourg: schedule for Sunday, 21 March 1937

Time Programme and details (sponsor/product shown in italics)

8:15 a.m. Station Concert 9:00 Excursions Down Memory Lane (Mother Siegel’s Syrup) 9:15 Master OK, The Saucy Boy (Mason’s OK Sauce) 9:30 Musical Tour of Your Garden—Alfredo Campoli and his Orchestra (Carter’s Seeds) 9:45 ‘Old Salty and his Accordion’ (Rowntree’s Cocoa) 10:00 Black Magic—Dance Music 10:15 Carson Robison and his Pioneers (Oxydol) 10:30 Favourite Melodies (Freezone Corn Remover) 10:45 Musical Menu—free cookery advice (Brown and Polson) 11:00 Station Concert 11:15 The Open Road (Carter’s Little Liver Pills) 11:30 Luxembourg Religious Talk (in French) 12:00 p.m. The Calvert Cavalcade of Sport (Calvert’s Tooth Powder) 12:15 The Orchard Club Cabaret (Rowntree’s Fruit Gums and Pastilles) 12:30 Café de la Bonne Chance (Irish Hospitals’ Trust) 1:00 Dance Music (Zam-Buk) 1:30 Melody and Song (Ovaltine) 2:00 The Kraft Show with Billy Cotton 2:30 Your Old Friend Dan—popular songs (Johnson’s Glo-Coat) 2:45 Fairy Soap Melody Meeting 3:00 ‘Make a Date With Your Radio’—two A1 orchestras (A1 Sauce) 3:15 The Merry Andrew Programme (Andrews Liver Salt) 3:30 Concert (McDougalls Self Raising Flour) 3:45 Rose’s Happy Matinee with the Happy Philosopher 4:00 ‘There’s Spring in the Air’—Debroy Somers Band (Horlicks) 5:00 Ray of Sunshine Concert (Betox and Phillips Live Yeast) 5:30 The Ovaltineys—songs and stories by the Ovaltineys 6:00 Up-to-the-Minute Rhythm Music (Lifebuoy Toilet Soap) 6:30 Rinso Music Hall—all-star variety 7:00 Dr. Fu Manchu—detective drama serial (Milk of Magnesia) 7:15 More Monkey Business—Billy Reid and his Accordion Band (Monkey Brand) 7:30 Waltz Time—Billy Bissett and his Orchestra (Phillip’s Dental Magnesia) 7:45 ‘Dinner at Eight’—Harry Welchman and the C&B Band (Crosse and Blackwell) 8:00 Palmolive Programme 8:30 Luxembourg News (in French) 9:00 Old Time Music Hall Memories (Maclean’s Ltd.) 9:15 Beecham’s Reunion—Jack Payne and his Band 9:45 The Colgate Revellers—popular music

(continued) 1933–1939: THE SHOW BEGINS 83

Table 3.3 (continued)

Time Programme and details (sponsor/product shown in italics)

10:00 Pond’s Serenade to Beauty—programme for lovers 10:30 Morton Downey, the Golden Voice of Radio (Drene Shampoo) 10:45 Station Concert 11:00 Concert (Bile Beans) 11:15–12:00 ‘Requests’ Concert of gramophone records midnight

Source: Radio Pictorial 166, 19 March 1937

With a large section of the Sunday audience eager for much lighter fare than the BBC was prepared to offer, a considerable proportion of the British radio audience switched to the European continental radio stations. Radio Luxembourg and Radio Normandie, the most popular, offered an alternative to a symphony concert or religious talk with sponsored programmes such as Thermogene Brand Vapour Rub Concert, Pond’s Serenade to Beauty or the Rinso Music Hall. Their almost exclusively populist programmes, funded by advertising, were recorded at the International Broadcasting Company’s Studios in London, or facilitated by such organisations as the London Press Exchange or the J. Walter Thompson Agency, often using British presenters and BBC artists and sent to the continental stations for broadcasting to Britain. These programmes and others like them were successful in drawing audiences from the BBC. In terms of annual advertising budgets for radio, the following major companies were among the largest spenders: Rowntree (confectionery) c. £250,000; Horlicks (malted bedtime drink, ‘guards against night starvation’) £200,000; and Ponds (beauty products) £130,000 to £150,000.97 As will be seen from Table 3.3, the Sunday radio audience for Radio Luxembourg was offered almost continuous popular music and light entertainment—the polar opposite of the fare on offer from the BBC. The success of commercial radio at the time was clearly a direct result of the BBC’s Sunday policy. In 1938, research conducted for Radio Normandie found that before midday on Sundays there were 52 per cent of radios in Britain in use, of which 82.1 per cent were tuned to commercial stations. During the afternoon when 66 per cent of radios were in use, 70.3 per cent were tuned to commercial stations.98 These audience preferences were supported by Rowntree’s 1936 social survey of York which 84 M. DIBBS found that ‘it is often customary to switch on to Luxembourg first thing in the morning and leave it on all day, with perhaps a break in the evening for the religious service’.99 The European stations exploited the BBC’s Sunday policy by providing a considerably lighter alternative and this concerned the Corporation because the listeners’ defection, if repeated across weekdays, could seriously threaten its monopoly and might lead to an acceptance of commercial sponsorship of its own programmes. However, media historians Stephen Barnard and Siân Nicholas have argued that audiences generally approved of the BBC’s Sunday policy and, instead of demanding change, simply retuned to commercial stations when entertainment on the BBC was not offered.100 This point was made in a letter to Radio Times:

There are many in this country who would enjoy livelier programmes on Sundays but they undoubtedly approve of decencyship rather than demand of those in control of programmes alterations that would offend other listeners. So on Sundays they philosophically tune in to continental dance music.101

The BBC’s reaction to their monopoly being challenged was to try to close the commercial stations down through diplomatic means and the involvement of the International Broadcasting Union. This was unsuc- cessful and the Corporation then attempted to restrain its own artists from broadcasting for Luxembourg as well as investigating means of preventing them from lending their names for advertising purposes.102 It also prohibited the use of what it felt was its ‘own’ material and proscribed ‘Luxembourg material’ from being broadcast on the BBC. Many artists found that it was financially worthwhile to ignore these threats, and while some were dispensed with, others were considered essential to the BBC and retained, thus creating discrimination and inconsistency in BBC policy. Christopher Stone, often cited as the first radio disc jockey and who worked for both the BBC and Luxembourg, failed to have his BBC contract renewed when it expired in September 1934 for commercial broadcasting from Europe. This policy did not attract consensus within the Programme Board, and in March 1937, the BBC relented in the case of artists who had accepted isolated engagements with Luxembourg.103 Christopher Stone was eventually allowed to return to the BBC in November 1938 and was permitted the occasional use of his name in advertising on the commercial stations. 1933–1939: THE SHOW BEGINS 85

Lightening the Schedule Competition from European broadcasters brought about gradual change in Sunday programming, but there was not always total agreement within the Corporation on this policy. Roger Eckersley, then Assistant Controller (Programmes) with responsibility for religious broadcasting, thought that the opinions of a small minority carried too much influence and contributed to a rigid approach.104 He believed that even good Christians were displeased that religion had a monopoly on Sunday programming and that the Religious Advisory Committee was too restrictive in its outlook. In March 1934 a lightening of the Sunday schedule was agreed when selections from, but not the complete works of, approved musical comedies and light opera were permitted. However, production staff were warned that care would need to be taken:

Items which, by their title, association or words, are likely to give offence should be excluded nor should we broadcast raucous or rowdy items. American dance music is not permitted, nor the use of crooners or saxo- phone combinations.105

This directive excluded all dance music and comedy material, meaning that the Variety Department’s contribution to Sunday broadcasting amounted only to concerts by the Theatre Orchestra and later, cinema organ programmes. In January 1935, Rev. Frederick A. Iremonger, the BBC’s first Religious Director, canvassed the various programme supply departments and the BBC’s Regional Directors in order to explore the possibility of a further lightening of Sunday programmes. Iremonger was not opposed to a change in policy which would brighten but not vulgarise the Sunday diet provided that the move was gradual and did not reduce or alter the religious content of the broadcasting day. He believed that there was a sizeable proportion of the population who, while desiring change, did not simply want the weekday schedule without variety and jazz, but instead Sunday programmes which were different from those of weekdays. His subsequent report recognised there could be no lowering of standards in providing an alternative to the commercial stations, but whatever changes were made, they had to be in accordance with good taste and maintain the distinct nature of Sunday entertainment. From his respondents there was general agreement that the BBC would not contemplate imitation of 86 M. DIBBS

Luxembourg or Normandie. There was a need to improve the quality and broaden the appeal of Sunday programmes, but this had to be done within the context of the prevailing Sunday policy. Iremonger thought that speech-based programmes could be most easily lightened and suggested the inclusion of A.J. Alan stories, serials, detective stories, puzzles and more classic drama. Music was more problematic, there was a need to include lighter orchestral programmes and the complete acts from light opera and musical comedy. ‘Wurlitzer’ (cinema) organ concerts were frowned upon, but the BBC’s own Theatre Organ with ‘the very lightest programme possible’ would be acceptable. Feature programmes would also be suitable particularly biographies, and Iremonger gave as an example poets—with readings and incidental music—and statesmen, including excerpts from their speeches. Reith together with the Controller (Programmes) largely agreed with Iremonger’s findings and added controversial talks and discussions to the list together with special Sunday concerts given by the best dance bands but without jazz or vocal numbers. It was also recommended that Iremonger be given responsibility for scrutinising and selecting Sunday programmes. A year later changes to Sunday programming had been modest. Few controversial talks had been given although lighter talks had been included; there were timing problems with the inclusion of classical plays and no operetta excerpts had been broadcast largely because of production and copyright problems. Dance band broadcasts, however they were dressed up, were simply not permitted under any circumstances.106 The use of the BBC Theatre Organ in programmes was sanctioned in October 1936 although artistic content was subject to the restrictions governing Sundays. Cinema organ outside broadcasts continued to be proscribed. Sunday transmissions normally opened at 9.25 am with the Weather Forecast and Morning Service. Between 10.45 am and 12.30 pm, there was a silent period. At the beginning of 1938, it was agreed after much discussion to extend Sunday broadcasting hours to cover this period in order to provide an alternative to European commercial radio. There was concern expressed, mainly from the churches and church-based pressure groups, about an increasing secularisation of programmes on Sundays. Scotland was particularly vocal in this respect for not only had deputations been received by the BBC from religious groups there, where Sunday observance was better respected, but the BBC’s own Scottish Religious 1933–1939: THE SHOW BEGINS 87

Advisory Council had passed a resolution on 11 March 1938 against the extension of Sunday broadcasting hours. Deputations were also subsequently received at Broadcasting House in early May from the Church and Nation Committee and from the Imperial Alliance for the Defence of Sunday. The BBC’s response was that while it would not try to compete directly with commercial broadcasters, there needed to be a challenge to its competitors who were taking two-thirds of its popular audience. An albeit reluctant extension of hours would satisfy public demand and answer the charge that the BBC did more harm than good by not broadcasting on Sunday mornings. Beginning on 24 April 1938, broadcasting hours were extended through the silent period to include programmes of light music. The first Sunday featured the Fred Hartley Sextet at 10.45 am, Tollefsen (the ‘Wizard of the Accordion’) at 11.30 am and Walford Hyden’s Magyar Orchestra at 11.50 am. In the week following the change, 22 letters from the public were received, 16 of which were positive and 6 critical—three of these complained on religious grounds and three that the programme did not represent a ‘brighter’ Sunday. Another listener complained soon after of:

the terrible trashy programmes [you] are giving us Sunday after Sunday… the same horrible kind of stuff – one certainly cannot call it music – with the same types of instruments, guitars, banjos, wheezy “squeezeboxes” & c.107

The BBC’s Music Department also complained about a considerable increase in light music at the expense of serious music. With the departure of Reith from the BBC in June 1938, the lightening of Sunday broadcasting moved a little faster although remained limited in scope. The moratorium on the use of cinema organs in Sunday broadcasts was lifted in March 1939, but the embargo on dance music and variety remained in place. While undertakings regarding the content of Sunday programmes had been given to Sabbatarian organisations such as the Lord’s Day Observance Society and the Imperial Alliance for the Defence of Sunday, a Programme Board meeting in October 1938 hinted at the unthinkable. If Sunday programming was to be lightened further by the inclusion of dance music:

it would be done as a Board decision, probably with advance warning to such bodies and certainly after consulting the Religious Advisory Committee, not by any process of gradual infiltration, which would be wholly improper.108 88 M. DIBBS

Two months later at a Programme Board meeting, the new Director- General, Frederick Ogilvie, considered that the BBC was not bound rigidly to the shape of its Sunday morning programmes by the undertakings given to the Religious Advisory Committee and other bodies, but light entertainment in the form of variety and dance band programmes would continue to be excluded. While the BBC’s broadcasting hours had increased and the programmes varied over the previous six years, Sunday policy still remained a poor compromise which pleased no one— Sabbatarians, listeners who wanted Sunday to be different or those who wanted levity in output. A sample BBC Sunday for August 1939 (Table 3.4)

Table 3.4 BBC National Programme: schedule for Sunday, 4 August 1939

Time Programme and details

09:25 a.m. A Religious Service (C. of E. from St. George’s Church, Stockport) 10:15 Interval 10:30 Weather Forecast for Farmers and Shipping 10:45 Philip Martell and his Orchestra 11:30 The Alfredo Campoli Trio 12:00 noon The Bickershaw Colliery Band 12:45 p.m. A Balalaika Recital 1:00 Sidney Davey and his Players 1:30 The Leslie Bridgewater Quintet 2:00 In Other Gardens 2:15 Orchestral Hour: The BBC Northern Ireland Orchestra 3:15 Falkman and his Apache Band 4:00 Sentimental Songs: new and old on gramophone records 4:30 John Goss and the London Singers 5:00 New Books on Religion 5:20 A Recital: the Harry Blech Quartet 6:00 News 6:10 Foreign Review 6:30 The Emilio Colombo Octet 7:00 Round the Courts 7:20 Mascots on the March: the BBC Military Band 7:50 Interval 7:55 A Religious Service (Baptist) from Baptist Tabernacle, Blackpool 8:45 The Week’s Good Cause: the Housing Association for Officers’ Families 8:50 News including Weather Forecast and Forecast for Shipping 9:05 Letter from America—6: Alexander Woollcott (from America) 9:20 Rivers of Europe: 5—The Seine 10:00 Brahms: Trio in E flat, Op. 40 10:30 Epilogue: The Transfiguration

Source: RT 827, 4 August 1939 1933–1939: THE SHOW BEGINS 89 reveals that the day’s transmissions ran almost uninterrupted from 9.25 am until 10.30 pm. The programmes when compared to those of two years earlier (Table 3.2) certainly represented a degree of relaxation in the BBC Sunday schedule and consisted of largely light music interspersed with classical music concerts. There were a few spoken-word programmes and Variety had little presence on the day. Despite this, the BBC was able to report that its Sunday programmes were being heard and appreciated by a large and growing number of listeners.109 In 1939, Iremonger’s successor Dr J.W. Welch, while amenable to change, felt ill-equipped for the task of supervising Sunday programmes. He felt there was a lack of a clear statement regarding Sunday policy. Dance music was a prime example of its ambiguity and he wrote:

we broadcast the dance tunes of any country but our own (and USA)… tango bands are allowed, but not ordinary dance bands. Dance music can be played, but not as dance music, and only by an orchestra.110

Like Reith, he maintained that the radio had a role in helping strengthen family life and renewed the plea for Sunday broadcasting to be different from other days. However, he made some programme suggestions for Sunday calling inter alia for more drama, politics and history while requesting more comedy and music programmes genres associated with the Variety Department. He welcomed Band Waggon which ‘appear[ed] to satisfy the criteria of excellence of quality, good clean comedy, the human “personal touch”, the building of the family life’. While he did not want dance music to be totally excluded, crooning and poor musicianship were undesirable. He suggested that Alastair Cooke’s programme I Hear America Singing would make people more critically aware, and he embraced the Scrapbook series as being of good quality and informative. Welch was displaying an uncommon liberalism in his ideas and accepted that people needed to be entertained even on a Sunday. Change was ongoing and Radio Times reported that for the winter 1939 schedule, Sunday was going to be ‘a much brighter day for listeners…with…Scrapbooks, Geraldo…ballad concerts by John McCormack, and recorded repeats of the best play of the week’.111 However, in less than a month, Welch’s suggestions would be overtaken by world events which would bring about significant change to Sunday broadcasting policy. 90 M. DIBBS

Who’s Listening? For the first 15 years of its existence, the nature of the BBC’s audience remained a mystery. As early as 1930, concern had been expressed about the public’s perception of BBC programmes when the Drama Director Val Gielgud raised the issue:

I cannot help feeling more and more strongly that we are fundamentally ignorant as to how our various programmes are received. It must be a source of considerable disquiet to many people besides myself to think that it is quite possible that a very great deal of our money and time and effort may be expended on broadcasting into a void.112

For programme criticism and guidance, reliance was placed on advisory panels and personal contacts. There were also letters from the listening public to the BBC or Radio Times, and their opinions were occasionally sought by means of appeals either on radio or through Radio Times. However, none of these methods was scientific or able to offer accurate quantitative or qualitative analysis of the BBC’s output. As the novelty value of radio wore off, the listening public became discerning and more critical of programmes. Newspapers began polling their readers by asking them to write in or complete a simple form, and the information gained was invariably used to provide ammunition to lobby the BBC for programme change. The BBC’s former Director of Talks, Hilda Matheson, supported the idea of listener research as a means of con- necting the broadcaster directly to its audience but criticised the methodology of newspaper polls as having little value and identified their shortcomings:

The fact that the largest number of entrants give their vote for “Variety” programmes does not mean that even they want to hear variety programmes all the time; it does not indicate what kind of variety programmes they want, nor their relative preferences for musical items, for comic dialogue, for humorous sketches and the rest.113

The 1930s saw the radio critic become firmly established in the press. Their columns were popular with listeners and fed into the programme popularity debate. The critics viewed themselves as representing the radio audience to an unreceptive BBC, and among their most common areas of complaint were, unsurprisingly, variety and Sunday broadcasting. Some of 1933–1939: THE SHOW BEGINS 91 the best-known critics were Collie Knox (Daily Mail), Jonah Barrington (Daily Express) and Sydney Moseley (Daily Herald), with the latter claim- ing to have the ear of Reith. As their writings reveal, they were highly opinionated and berated the BBC at the slightest opportunity. They were quick to seize any opportunity to bring to the public’s attention transgressions in any area of the BBC’s operations, remind it of its responsibilities to the licence payers and offer advice on its failings. While it is unclear to what extent the critics accurately represented listener opinion, there is no doubt that the BBC was interested in newspaper criticism. This is borne out by the vast collection of press cuttings from national and provincial newspapers and journals in their Written Archive. Pegg suggests that newspaper polls eventually prompted the BBC to institute more scientifi- cally based research to combat criticism.114 Radio Pictorial, a popular weekly radio magazine, first appeared in 1934 and began as a supporter of the BBC. However, from August that year, it began to publish details of programmes on European commercial radio and to highlight what it considered to be the shortcomings of the Corporation relying on tittle-tattle, speculation, hearsay and inside information. There were frequent exposés presented sensationally: one typically asked, ‘Is Britain’s Radio Talent Being Wasted?’, another revealed a ‘Hidden Radio Scandal’ while one article grumbled about ‘Ideas They Borrowed’. It had a permanent obsession with money and recurring investigations promised to reveal the earnings of the stars, dance bands and BBC staff under such headlines as ‘Is the BBC Wasting Your Money?’, ‘Where Your Radio Millions Go’ and ‘What Do Radio Stars Earn?’ The subtext of such headlines being that the BBC was profligate with licence payers’ money. A series of ‘frank revelations’ acquired gravitas because they were written by an ‘ex-BBC Official’ whose first article set the moral tone by asking readers:

Do you wonder why many BBC broadcasts are dull, why radio stars and famous band leaders periodically break out into bitter revolt about low fees paid for their BBC work: and why, although the income of the BBC is well over a million pounds a year, the money available for our radio programmes is diminishing?115

Journalist Garry Allighan produced a series of weekly articles which placed the BBC in the dock of Radio Pictorial’s imaginary court of justice. The final article found the Corporation guilty of failing in its duty to the 92 M. DIBBS listening public. Allighan sentenced the Corporation to sequestration of its finances until:

a Board of Governors [is formed] composed of representative listeners, professional entertainment-mongers, and newspaper editors, thus securing practical advice from people in intimate touch with public opinion.116

He later wrote a column for the magazine which was highly critical of the BBC. He began as he meant to continue, ‘stick[ing] pins of realism into the gaily coloured balloons which the BBC have, self-admiringly inflated’.117 His weekly fulminations against some perceived inadequacy of the BBC under declamatory headlines included ‘Broadcasts That Make Me Sick’ (rigidity of programme policy), ‘Who is John Sharman?’ (a rant against the programme Music Hall), ‘More BBC Muddles Revealed’ (broadcast output generally), ‘Another Radio Racket?’ (advertising on the BBC) and ‘They Can’t Take It’ (criticism of Variety producers). It is, however, doubtful that he represented majority opinion; while his articles might have brightened the day for his readers, over time they became predictable in approach. Conversely, Radio Pictorial also published articles highly supportive of the BBC. One argued that the Corporation was responsive to public opinion, quoting the lightening of Sunday programmes and suggested that commercial radio would never have the general support of the radio audience because it wasted too much time with advertisements. Another indicated that while the BBC could not please everyone all the time, it provided something of interest for everyone and exhorted the audience to plan and be discriminating in its listening. That there was both censure and praise in Radio Pictorial was indicative not only of the importance radio had in the lives of its listeners but also the degree to which gossip and speculation about the BBC could increase circulation. However, as the magazine became more closely linked to commercial broadcasting, the continental stations seemed to escape relatively unscathed from the level of criticism aimed at the BBC. In December 1935, some concrete evidence of listener preferences became available when the BBC acquired the listening figures for the main radio relay exchanges. Apart from the coverage of national events, the output of the Variety Department was by far the most consistently popular with listeners with programmes such as Music Hall (4,200,000, i.e. 60 per cent of the licence ownership), Reginald Dixon’s organ recitals (3,900,000 and 54 per cent) and In Town Tonight (3,700,000 and 53 per cent). The 1933–1939: THE SHOW BEGINS 93

Sunday BBC audience varied between 10 per cent and 35 per cent compared to the commercial broadcasters’ figures of 40 to 80 per cent followed by the observation that ‘only on exceptional occasions have more than 35 per cent taken the BBC programme’.118 Evidence of this nature confirmed what the BBC already knew of its audience preferences particularly in relation to Sunday listening. Audience measurement techniques had been developed in America in order to provide accurate information on numbers, types of listener and times of listening so as to be able to convince current and prospective sponsors of the potential effectiveness of radio advertising. The matter of introducing listener research to the BBC, although discussed, was left largely in abeyance until 1936. Pegg suggests a twofold reason for this: the need for economy in an era of domestic eco- nomic depression and an ignorance of survey methodology.119 The BBC needed greater knowledge of its audiences in order to better serve them, and Sir Stephen Tallents, the recently appointed Controller (Public Relations) with experience of corporate image-making, advocated listener research. However, this was not universally popular at the BBC. Reith, while concerned that audience numbers would become the sole criterion for programme-making, ultimately leading to a lowering of standards, agreed to its establishment. With the BBC catering for the needs of a number of different audiences rather than for a mass audience, the information gathered would aid the programme planners in ensuring that each audience was served fairly. Consequently, in October 1936 Robert Silvey was recruited from the London Press Exchange to set up and run the Listener (later Audience) Research Section within the Corporation’s Public Relations Department. In the largely undeveloped field of market and social research, the BBC would prove to be both a leader and innovator.

Variety: A Guinea Pig There was some internal disagreement about the value and use of Listener Research. From the creative side, Eric Maschwitz, with an instinct for spotting potentially successful programme ideas, was not entirely convinced and would later write:

We assessed the popularity of our programmes then by methods far simpler and, I fancy, more reliable than the highly scientific “listener opinion” polls upon which the BBC to-day spends a small fortune every year: the audience responded immediately and directly through shoals of letters.120 94 M. DIBBS while Lionel Fielden of the Talks Department retrospectively fulminated:

The real degradation of the BBC started with the invention of the hellish department which is called “Listener Research”. That abominable statistic is supposed to know “what listeners like” – and, of course, what they like is the red-nosed comedian and the Wurlitzer Organ. But anyone who has studied the letters received by the BBC knows that (a) only Abominable people write to it, and (b) hardly any single letter is a valid criticism.121

Despite this dissent, the Variety Department became one of the Listener Research’s earliest projects. On 18 September 1937, John Watt made a broadcast appeal for 1000 listeners to participate in an enquiry into their Variety programme listening habits. Appeals were also made in Radio Times and The Listener as well as to the press at large. The result was an overwhelming 47,000 applicants which resulted in Watt doubling the sample. This first ever survey of audience measurement was held between 11 October 1937 and 1 January 1938, using the sample group of 2,000 listeners, known as log-keepers, who recorded their actual listening to Variety programmes on log sheets. Variety output would now be divided into two main groups—what the new Listener Research Department would term ‘foreground’ and ‘background’ listening.122 Foreground listening included variety, serials and interest programmes which needed to engage the listener’s full attention. ‘Background’ listening comprised largely music-based programmes and, as an unseen ‘friend’, took place as an accompaniment to other tasks such as domestic chores. The use of these respective terms was important as it indicated that the BBC now tacitly accepted that the radio functioned in different ways for different sections of the audience and its use as background (or ‘tap’) listening, while frowned upon by senior management, was widespread. For the 12-week duration of the survey, the rate of return of log sheets remained remarkably high at between 91 and 98 per cent. Listener Research found that women respondents listened more than men particularly during daytime as they were more likely to be at home. This tendency remained although lessened as the evening wore on. From the data gathered, a Variety Listening Barometer was compiled which indicated audience size in percentage terms for individual and types of programme. These are summarised in Table 3.5. Analysis revealed that studio-produced variety shows were the most popular programme category and attracted the highest audiences. The 1933–1939: THE SHOW BEGINS 95

Table 3.5 Popularity of Variety programmes with light entertainment listeners: October–December 1937

Ranking Programme titlea

1 Music Hall (84) 2 Palace of Varieties (83) 3 In Town Tonight (77) 4 Monday Night at Seven (72) 5 Scrapbooks (69) 6 Carroll Levis and His Discoveries (68) 7= The Plums; Rough funny showsb (66) 9 Outside Broadcasts of Variety programmes (60) 10 Musical comedies (39) 11= Variety Features; Sophisticated Revues (36) 13 Sophisticated Dance Music (24)

Source: BBC WAC R9/9/1, A Report on the Variety (Light Entertainment) Listening Barometer, October– December 1937, 15 June 1938 Notes: aFigures after programme title or category relate to percentage of log-keepers listening to programmes bAlthough not defined, programme examples quoted for this category wereKentucky Minstrels and Big Bill Campbell and his Hill-Billy Band top nine programmes achieved an audience of 60 per cent and over, while the more sophisticated revue and music programmes, which did not cater to mass appeal, appeared at the bottom end of the scale. While the popular Carroll Levis programme provided new artists, it was criticised for not being broadcast to all the regions. Interest programmes included many different genres: In Town Tonight and Scrapbook were highly appreciated, but The History of Jazz lacked general appeal and one in five switched off before it finished.123 It was also discovered that programmes could have a significant effect on each other: it was found that Monday Night at Seven, followed by The Plums, a serial, paralleled each other in terms of audience size. This was explained in terms of there being two groups of listeners for The Plums, a large regular audience and a smaller audience who listened sporadically. For the latter group, if Monday Night at Seven, a ‘compendium’ programme comprising four different segments, was regarded as appealing, they continued to listen to the following programme, The Plums, thinking that it was simply continuation of the previous programme.124 Audience reaction to programmes was computed separately based on a different questionnaire and asked whether the log-keepers wanted more, 96 M. DIBBS

Table 3.6 Variety listeners’ preferences for light entertainment programmes: the first Listening Barometer, October–December 1937

Programme category Percentage of respondents who

Would like more Would like less Are satisfied

Straight Variety 70 1 29 Comedy shows 54 5 41 Reginald Foort (BBC Theatre Organ) 55 5 40 Other cinema organa 41 8 50 Concert parties 44 8 48 ‘Interest’ programmesa 41 7 52 Serialsa 31 12 56 Musical comedies 29 19 52 Dance musica 17 28 54 Overseas relaysa 8 57 34

Source: BBC WAC R9/9/1, A Report on the Variety (Light Entertainment) Listening Barometer, October– December 1937, 20 April 1938 a1% did not reply less or were satisfied with the current quantities of ten given categories of Variety output. The results largely shadowed those of the Listening Barometer. These are tabulated below in Table 3.6. Listener Research also reported on the inclinations of its 2000 volunteers towards foreign stations. On weekdays BBC transmissions did not begin until 10:15 am and 22 per cent of the volunteers listened regularly to continental stations—Luxembourg and Normandie being the most popular—between the hours of 8 am and 10:30 am.125 A listening peak of 61 per cent was reached at 8:30 am which dropped back to 27 per cent by 10:30 am and thereafter became a trickle. In the evenings, a maximum of 17 per cent of regular evening listeners to foreign stations was reached at 10 pm Approximately two-thirds of the BBC’s log-keepers listened regularly to foreign stations on Sundays with Luxembourg being the most popular. Of those, 10 per cent were listening at 8 am which increased to 51 per cent by midday. When BBC programmes began at 12:30 pm, the listening figure dropped to 42 per cent. The most popular listening period was between 4 pm and 6 pm when listening ranged from 48 per cent to 57 per cent. Thereafter listening began to decline and tailed off after 7:30 pm.126 For this final period, Listener Research thought that this drop applied across listening generally but with more listeners switching to 1933–1939: THE SHOW BEGINS 97

BBC programmes. Additional information was compiled about the audience’s listening habits including the number able to listen at 6:30 pm, the timing of Saturday Music Hall and how late people listened. It was also discovered that only ten per cent of the audience regularly danced to broadcast dance music at home. Listener Research concluded that in so far as the log-keepers were representative, Variety programmes were generally highly regarded by the audience. These findings were in line with those of Seebohm Rowntree’s survey of York. His respondents, whom he regarded as lower-middle and upper-working classes, spent 67 per cent of their listening time on dance and light music and variety, all of which he regarded as entertainment, compared to 22 per cent on news, plays and classical music, the latter being generally unpopular. Radio was valued as a companion in the home particularly by housewives who used it as an accompaniment to domestic chores. It was also customary to have dance or light music as an adjunct to meal times.127 The results of these earliest Listener Research investigations enabled the BBC to build up a profile of the radio audience’s tastes and programme preferences, and the results provided a rational approach to the planning of broadcasting schedules which also had the potential to mediate between output departments in the competition for resources.128 Radio Times was used to publicise the general nature of the findings of Listener Research, and Robert Silvey revealed in one article that John Watt was using the results to plan his winter schedule. Tallents announced in a letter to The Times that Listener Research was ‘piecing together a fascinating picture of the ways and likings of its listeners. Some of the results confirm our expectations; some are unexpected’. The success of the Variety Barometer led to the establishment of a General Listening Barometer in September 1939 which was a continuous survey of all programmes broadcast. Although listener research was problematic for some well-placed people within the BBC, Silvey presciently wrote in 1938, ‘No one whose business is to supply things to people – least of all those who supply entertainment – can afford to be ignorant about what people want’.

Change at the Top Maschwitz was awarded an OBE in 1936 and left the BBC in June 1937 for a career as a scriptwriter with MGM in Hollywood. He set a very high standard of light entertainment for radio, and his legacy was impressive with long-running programmes such as In Town Tonight and Scrapbook, as 98 M. DIBBS well as radio adaptations of popular musicals. In only four years, he had established the importance of Variety in programming, raised its profile within the BBC and had begun to introduce innovations to broadcasting such as ‘series’ type programmes. Barry Took wrote of him:

What he left was a tradition of operettas tailor made for radio, good light music, internationally known comedians…to spice up Variety shows, and a sense of lightness, a gaiety that was eagerly sought by the listening millions.129

As a measure of Maschwitz’s standing within the BBC, it was agreed in principle at a meeting of the BBC’s Control Board on 16 March 1937 to pay him a retainer in the region of £1,000 with the possibility of his returning to the BBC. How long this retainer was paid, if it was indeed paid, is not recorded. Maschwitz did eventually return to the BBC as Head of Television Light Entertainment between 1958 and 1961 and subsequently as Assistant and Adviser to Controller (Television) until 1963 when he joined ITV. He died in 1969. Maschwitz’s successor was John Watt who had transferred from the BBC’s Belfast station in 1930. Among his successes was Songs from the Shows which began in 1931 and ran, although not continuously, until 1958. In 1934, Watt had been a contender for Assistant Director of Variety a post for which Maschwitz wanted to appoint Stanford Robinson, conductor of the BBC Theatre orchestra and Musical Director of the Department. Maschwitz damned Watt with faint praise writing confiden- tially of him:

He is a good producer, often a brilliant compère and very knowledgeable in many branches of entertainment; against this however, he is a supreme ego- ist, a “last minute” man inclined to muddle brilliantly through, and occasionally lacking in judgement. These last criticisms…do not affect my general opinion that Watt is one of our best men. At the same time, he is essentially a producer, not an organiser – a man to deal with his own individual business rather than a department as a whole.130

With the overwork and chaos of the department, some of these criticisms of Watt could have applied to all producers and was particularly ironic since Maschwitz could have been criticised on precisely the same grounds. 1933–1939: THE SHOW BEGINS 99

Despite Maschwitz’s doubts as to his suitability, Watt would prove to be an exceptional leader during Variety’s arguably finest but most difficult period, that of entertaining the nation and maintaining morale during the Second World War. Under Watt, the number of productions increased, and despite the continuing problems of sourcing artists and new material as well as the ongoing overwork, the ‘Variety Number’ of Radio Times of February 1938 made clear that things had never been better for listeners.131 The Department was now producing a large number of high-quality, popular programmes from many different genres which made the BBC Britain’s major provider of light entertainment. John Watt was now one of the most influential men in show business, and the situation, with one proviso, was summed up by Peter Black:

Watt and [Harry S.] Pepper had a permanent table reservation at Paganini’s [sic] restaurant, where they held court with their retinue of producers, agents, artists and songwriters. By 1938 the BBC had become the nation’s biggest source of light entertainment (except on Sundays).132

By the outbreak of war, the Variety Department had established itself with the listening public as a highly successful producer of, and a powerful force in creating high-quality popular programmes and building mass audiences in the process. Through the Department, the BBC was shaping popular culture and leading public taste in what it considered to be in a thoroughly acceptable British way.

Conclusion From its inception, the Variety Department grew quickly in size and output as more was expected of it. Aided by a growing number of talented and experienced production staff, the Department set about developing new programme ideas including adapting some American models to what was perceived to be suitable for British taste, despite senior management’s opposition. For all the chaos and overwork, the Department produced a wide range of well-received, radio-specific programmes which attracted large and regular audiences and gradually transformed the production of radio light entertainment programmes into a highly sophisticated process. The growing use of fixed-point programming shaped the broadcasting day in the mind of the listening public and helped radio to become a significant part of their lives. The series format, ideally suited to this alternative 100 M. DIBBS form of scheduling, was gradually introduced and helped to overcome production problems in the Department. The BBC continued to develop its own company of radio artists and by 1939 relationships had warmed between them and theatre and artist managements who by then had come to appreciate the potential of the national radio audience. A concern for offending some sections of the audience—frequently small minorities—caused the BBC to adopt an over-sensitive approach to censorship almost exclusively in relation to light entertainment programmes. Dance music continued to be among the most popular elements of BBC output, but crooning and jazz, reviled in some quarters of the Corporation, survived the frequent edicts ordering their removal. Crooning endured because of its popularity, while jazz survived through the persistence of a nucleus of middle-class enthusiasts within the BBC. Problems arising from Sunday policy, together with competition from European commercial broadcasting, remained, despite gradual improvements by the BBC to the day’s arrangements most notably following the departure of Reith. Although broadcast hours were extended and programmes brightened by the inclusion of some light music, talks and drama, there remained an embargo on pure variety programmes and dance music. The corollary to this was that while Sunday had the potential to attract the largest audiences, the BBC’s light entertainment audience defected to the commercial stations in search of entertainment and relaxation rather than serious music, talks and church services. In recognising that concrete evidence of its listeners’ tastes, habits and preferences was important in planning its programme output, the BBC inaugurated its Listener Research Section. The results of its fledgling work not only endorsed the popularity of Variety programmes but made the BBC both a pioneer in and a significant contributor to social research in Britain.

Notes 1. BBC Handbook 1955, London, 1954, 159 and 176. 2. For some portraits of Maschwitz, see Lance Sieveking, The Eye of the Beholder, London, 1957; Hermione Gingold, How to Grow Old Disgracefully, New York, 1988; Leonard Miall, Inside the BBC: British Broadcasting Characters, London, 1994; Frank Muir, A Kentish Lad, London, 1997. 3. Peter Black, The Biggest Aspidistra in the World, London, 1972, 61. 4. BBC WAC R13/311/1, Variety Department Staff, 10 May 1933. 1933–1939: THE SHOW BEGINS 101

5. Eric Maschwitz, No Chip On My Shoulder, London, 1957, 71. 6. Those Radio Times, BBC Light Programme, 6 October 1951. 7. Radio Pictorial 113, 13 March 1936, 18 and RP 117, 10 April 1936, 9. Radio Pictorial is hereafter abbreviated to RP. 8. BBC Annual 1936, London, 1935, 41. 9. RT 624, 13 September 1935, 4–5. Radio Times is hereafter abbreviated to RT. 10. Claude Hulbert, Learn to Write for Broadcasting, London, 1932; Max Kester and Edwin Collier, Writing for the BBC, London, 1937. 11. BBC WAC R13/311/2, Microphone Talent, 3 March 1936. 12. BBC Year Book 1933, London, 1932, 152. 13. BBC WAC Artists: Elsie and Doris Waters, File 1 (1934–39), 18 February 1937. 14. Ibid. Gillie Potter File 1A, 26 April 1933. 15. Ibid. File 1B, 4 June 1937. 16. RT 553, 4 May 1934, 334; RT 624, 13 September 1935, 6. 17. Quoted in Roger Wilmut, Kindly Leave the Stage! The Story of Variety 1919–1960, London, 1985, 129. 18. Correspondence between Marion Holledge and the author, 30 August 2008. See also Charles Brewer, The Spice of Variety, London, 1948, 202–7. 19. Maurice Gorham, Sound and Fury, London, 1948, 54. 20. Val Gielgud, Years in a Mirror, London, 1965, 88. 21. BBC WAC R34/600/7, Programme Board, 21 March 1935. 22. BBC WAC R13/311/1, Variety Department—Reorganisation, 29 November 1935. 23. Ibid. Variety Department, 5 December 1935. 24. Ibid. Variety Department Staff, 30 December 1935. 25. BBC WAC R13/313, Variety Routine Handbook, 1936. 26. BBC WAC R13/311/4, Variety Ex[ecutive] to ADPA, 23 June 1938. 27. Ibid. Variety Ex[ecutive] to DPA, 14 November 1938. 28. BBC WAC R27/71/3, Variety Department—S/H for Dance Band Unit, 8 June 1939. Miss D.E. Rogers was secretary to Philip Brown, Head of the Dance Band Section of the Variety Department. 29. RT 497, 7 April 1933, 3. 30. Maschwitz, Chip, 79–80. 31. Olive Shapley, Broadcasting a Life: the Autobiography of Olive Shapley, London, 1996, 46. 32. Author’s interview with Charles Chilton, 17 February 2009. 33. BBC WAC R34/600/7, Programme Board Minutes, 24 January 1935. 34. RP 139, 11 September 1936, 7 and 28. 35. BBC WAC R34/275/1, Prohibitions, 20 May 1937. 102 M. DIBBS

36. Ibid. 21 May 1937. 37. Ibid. ‘Jeff [more accurately ‘Gef’] the Mongoose’, 5 November 1936. This was the subject of a high-profile slander case involving Richard Lambert, Editor of The Listener, and Sir Cecil Levita who suggested that Lambert was an unfit person to sit on the board of the British Film Institute because he had published an article concerning a house allegedly haunted by a talking mongoose which Levita took to imply his belief in the occult. For Lambert’s side of the story, see his Ariel and All His Quality, London, 1940, 216–99. 38. RP 195, 8 October 1937, 7. 39. RP 218, 18 March 1938, 7. 40. RP 244, 16 September 1938, 9. 41. BBC WAC R34/275/1, Variety, Colston Hall, 25 January 1937. 42. BBC WAC R34/292/2, Objectionable Material in Broadcast Comedy, 3 February 1937. 43. BBC WAC R34/292/1, C(P) to ADV, 21 July 1937. 44. John Watt (ed.) Radio Variety, London, 1939, viii–ix. 45. RT 405, 3 July 1931, 3. See also RT 555, 18 May 1934, 500–1. 46. BBC WAC R34/918/1, “Follow the Sun”: Broadcast of First Night, 5 February 1936. 47. Valeria Camporesi, Mass Culture and National Traditions: The BBC and American Broadcasting 1922–1954, Fucecchio, 2000, 100 and 109–10. 48. RP 35, September 14, 1934; see also RP 39, October 12, 1934, 3. 49. The Listener 391, 8 July 1936, 56. 50. Ibid. 540, 18 May 1939, 1030. 51. BBC WAC R3/3/7, Control Board Minutes, 5 and 12 May 1931. 52. BBC WAC R34/918/1, ‘Follow the Sun’: First Night Broadcast, 7 February 1936. 53. BBC WAC R34/600/8, Programme Board Minutes, 7 February 1936. 54. BBC WAC R34/918/1, ‘Follow the Sun’: First Night Broadcast, 7 February 1936. 55. Richard Lambert, Ariel and All His Quality, London, 1940, 306–7. 56. Paddy Scannell and David Cardiff, A Social History of British Broadcasting, Vol. 1, 1922–1939, Oxford 1991, 297–98. 57. David Cardiff, ‘Time, Money and Culture: BBC Programme Finances 1927–1939’, Media, Culture and Society 5: 3–4, (1983), 385. 58. Eric Maschwitz, ‘Television: The Lighter Side’, The BBC Quarterly, 8:4 (Winter 1953–54), 194. 59. Eric Coates’ music was also used to introduce two other long-running BBC radio programmes Music While You Work (1940–67) used ‘Calling All Workers’ (1940) while Desert Island Discs (1942-current) continues to be introduced with ‘By the Sleepy Lagoon’ (1930). 1933–1939: THE SHOW BEGINS 103

60. See J.C. Cannell, In Town Tonight, London, 1935 and Peter Duncan, In Town Tonight, London, 1951. 61. Maschwitz, Chip, 69. 62. Gielgud, Years, 84. 63. Asa Briggs, The History of Broadcasting in the United Kingdom, Vol. II: The Golden age of Wireless 1927–1939 (rev. edition), Oxford, 1995, 49 and 52. 64. James J. Nott, Music for the People: Popular Music and Dance in Inter- War Britain, Oxford 2002, 209–11. 65. RT 353, 4 July 1930, 5. 66. BBC Year Book 1932, London 1931, 202. 67. RP 144, October 16, 1936, 7; Simon Frith, Music for Pleasure: Essays in the Sociology of Pop, Cambridge, 1988, 52. 68. BBC WAC R19/244, BBC Dance Orchestra, 5 February 1937. 69. RT 490, 17 February 1933, 387. 70. BBC WAC P129/2, Programmes Book 3: Vaudeville and Reviews, ‘Daily Dispatch’, 23 November 1933. 71. BBC WAC R34/281, Crooning, 8 March 1934. 72. RP 26, July 13, 1934, 7. 73. See RP 2, 20 January, 1934, 16; RP 23, 22 June 1934, 17. 74. See RP 169, 9 April 1937, 7; RP 170, 16 April 1937, 20–21. 75. BBC WAC R34/600/6, Programme Board Minutes, 15 March 1934. 76. BBC WAC R34/281, Crooning, 24 March 1936. 77. RT 490, 17 February 1933, 383. 78. BBC WAC R19/585/1, Hot Jazz and Crooning, 7 December 1933. 79. BBC WAC R47/840/1, Presentation of Swing Music Programmes, 20 April 1937. 80. Ibid. Swing that Music, 20 April 1937. 81. BBC WAC R27/71/2, Dance Band C, 12 October 1937. 82. BBC WAC R19/585/1, Jazz, 14 October 1937. 83. Jim Godbolt, A History of Jazz in Britain 1919–1950, London, 1984, (revised edition 2005), 193. 84. Author’s interview with Charles Chilton, 17 February 2009. See also Chilton’s autobiography, Auntie’s Charlie, Coventry, 2011, 118–21. 85. BBC WAC R47/3/1, Perowne to Greene, 5 May 1938. The bands who broadcast included for example in 1937, Benny Goodman (6 January), Chick Webb (5 February), Tommy Dorsey (18 March, 17 August and 11 October); in 1938 Bob Crosby (31 January, 1 October), Duke Ellington (29 April, 6 October), Count Basie (9 July). 86. BBC WAC R27/71/2, Broadcast Dance Music, 4 June 1937. 87. Ibid. Dance Music Schedule, 9 July 1937. 88. RP 197, 22 October 1937, 12. 104 M. DIBBS

89. In 1937, Woodrooffe had successfully commentated on the Coronation as well as The Derby and the Grand National. As a result of the ‘Fleet’s Lit Up’ incident, he was severely reprimanded, but the following year, he commentated on Chamberlain’s return from Munich and the F.A. Cup Final. See also Robert Wood, A World in Your Ear: The Broadcasting of an Era 1923–1964, London, 1979, 112–14. Woodrooffe’s commentary may be heard on the CD, 75 years of the BBC: A Celebration of BBC Radio, BBC 1997, ISBN 978-0-563-55121-0. 90. BBC WAC R34/276, Drink and the BBC, 24 November 1937. 91. Ibid. The BBC and Drink, 17 February 1942. 92. RP 223, 22 April 1938, 7. 93. BBC WAC R34/276, References to Drink in BBC Programmes, 8 October 1937. 94. J.C.W. Reith, Broadcast Over Britain, London, 1924, 195–96. 95. BBC WAC R34/882/2, Sunday Features, 3 April, 1936. 96. Reith, Broadcast, 196. 97. Seán Street, Crossing the Ether: Public Service Radio and Commercial Competition 1922–1945, Eastleigh, 2006, 103–5. 98. Mark Pegg, Broadcasting and Society 1918–1939, Beckenham, 1983, 141. 99. B. Seebohm Rowntree, Poverty and Progress: A Second Social Survey of York, London, 1941, 407–8. 100. Stephen Barnard, On the Radio: Music Radio in Britain, Milton Keynes, 1989, 19; Siân Nicholas, ‘The BBC and its Critics: the ‘Radio Column’ in the British Press in the 1930s’, unpublished paper, Wisconsin, July 2010, 5. 101. Quoted in Black, Aspidistra, 65. 102. BBC WAC R3/3/10, Control Board Minutes, 29 October 1935. 103. BBC WAC R34/600/6 Programme Board Minutes, 28 November 1934. 104. Roger Eckersley, The BBC and All That, London, 1946, 162–64. 105. BBC WAC R34/882/2, Lightening of Sunday Programmes, 6 March 1934. 106. Ibid. Sunday Programmes, 30 January 1936. 107. BBC WAC R34/882/3, Sunday Programmes, 4 June 1938. 108. BBC WAC R34/600/10, Programme Board Minutes, 20 October 1938. 109. BBC WAC R34/882/4, Sunday Programmes, 27 April 1939. 110. Ibid. Sunday Policy, 13 July 1939. 111. RT 830, 25 August 1939, 9. 112. Quoted in Briggs, II, 241. 113. Hilda Matheson, ‘Listener Research in Broadcasting’, Sociological Review 27 (October 1935), 412–13. 114. Pegg, Broadcasting, 107. 115. RP 209, 14 January 1938, 20–22. 1933–1939: THE SHOW BEGINS 105

116. RP 193, 24 September 1937. 117. RP 218, 18 March 1938, 9. 118. BBC WAC R34/599, Metre [sic] Figures for Relay Exchanges, December 16, 1935. Relay exchanges were described as being, ‘organisation[s] for receiving broadcast programmes at a central point and distributing them over a wire network to subscribers in their homes’. See R.H. Coase, British Broadcasting: a Study in Monopoly, London, 1950, 69–100 and BBC WAC R34/482, Relay Exchanges, 28 May 1943. 119. Pegg, Broadcasting, 101–9. 120. Maschwitz, Chip, 49. 121. Lionel Fielden, The Natural Bent, London, 1960, 109. 122. BBC WAC R9/9/1, LR65, A Report on the Variety (Light Entertainment) Listening Barometer, 15 June 1938. 123. Ibid. Light Entertainment Foreground Programmes, 15 June, 1938. 124. Ibid. A Report on the Variety (Light Entertainment) Listening Barometer, October–December 1937, 9 March 1938. 125. Ibid. LR65, 14 January 1938. 126. Ibid. A Report on the Variety (Light Entertainment) Listening Barometer, October–December 1937, 2 February 1938. 127. Rowntree, Poverty, 406–12. 128. See Scannell and Cardiff, I, 375–80 and Pegg, Broadcasting, 116–26. 129. Barry Took, Laughter in the Air: An Informal History of Radio Comedy, London, 1976, 14. 130. BBC WAC R13/311/1, Variety Director to DE, 18 December 1934. 131. RT 749, 4 February 1938, 3 and 5. 132. Black, Aspidistra, 62. CHAPTER 4

1939–1945: We Will Be Working Under Difficulties

Variety Goes to War The BBC had been planning for a possible war since 1937. Based on January 1939 programmes, it was intended that weekly broadcast hours would reduce by 44 per cent from 277 to 154, that is, 22 hours daily. News and information broadcasts would increase by 75 per cent and, to accommodate this, the individual programme-making departments would lose a significant proportion of airtime. So far as Variety was concerned, programmes would be reduced by 60 per cent from 60 to 24 hours per week. While this was considerable, other departments were affected more; Talks would be cut by 77 per cent, Drama and Features and Children’s Hour by 75 per cent and Religion by 62 per cent.1 There was also a need to prevent radio transmission signals from being used as an instrument of guidance for targets by enemy aircraft. Consequently, on 1 September 1939, the number of transmission wavelengths was reduced from eight to one by suspending all regional broadcasting and the fledgling television service.2 The National Programme was renamed the Home Service and, with the closure of all European commercial stations, the radio audience was limited to this single network until the Forces Programme began in early 1940. Agreement was reached with the government that, in the event of an air attack or invasion, broadcast schedules would be maintained at a basic level of news interspersed with

© The Author(s) 2019 107 M. Dibbs, Radio Fun and the BBC Variety Department, 1922–67, Palgrave Studies in the History of the Media, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-95609-1_4 108 M. DIBBS a diet of light music which could be interrupted at a moment’s notice by any important announcements or ministerial advice. As broadcasting became a weapon of war, increasing demands began to be made on the BBC. To meet these new challenges, staff numbers expanded from 4,889 in 1939 to a peak of 11,663 in March 1944, an increase of over 130 per cent. Listening became more widespread during the war, and the total number of licences increased from 8,968,338 in 1939 to 9,710,230 in 1945.3 The weekly circulation of Radio Times, although susceptible to wartime newsprint shortages, rose from 2,588,433 copies in 1939 to 4,058,650 in 1945. Whereas the Variety Department had been responsible for 10.43 per cent of total broadcasting output in 1938, this would more than double by 1942. Three issues of Radio Times were produced during the first week of war which assured the public that programmes would be ‘studded with plays, musical comedies, features, talks; in fact ordinary broadcast programmes – only probably of a rather higher standard than those we know in times of peace’.4 The same issue introduced its readers to the Variety Department’s production staff and artists and gave a highly optimistic outline of its immediate plans:

the most popular stars of radio Variety were signed up for ‘the duration’… as soon as war came they would be taken out of London to a new programme centre, where they would find complete scripts and scores of shows and ideas – enough to provide as many as forty shows a week – all ready to be produced…With them will be no fewer than eighteen producers, the Variety Orchestra and its conductor, Charles Shadwell, the ‘Songs from the Shows’ chorus, a male voice quartet, and a girl trio ‘The Three Chimes’. There is no limit to the amount of broadcasting they will be able to produce…Naturally it will take a few days for the war-time programmes to get into full swing…but the BBC will keep smiling – and try to make you smile too.

This did not, however, immediately prove to be the case. As will be seen from Table 4.1, a sample day of broadcasting output for the opening week of the war comprised recitals, largely of classical and light music—much of which was on gramophone records—talks, advice programmes and official announcements. From the Variety Department, the BBC Theatre Organist, Sandy Macpherson, broadcast 23 times during the first week of war and 22 during the second. Despite Macpherson’s virtuosity, one correspondent wrote: 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 109

Table 4.1 BBC Home Service: schedule for Friday, 8 September 1939

Time Programme and details

7:00 a.m. Time and News 7:10 Gramophone Records 8:00 Time Signal; News 8:10 The Rae Jenkins Quartet 8:30 Gramophone Records 9.00 Time Signal; News 9:10 Gramophone Records 9:45 Making the Most of a Wartime Larder—2 (Mrs. Arthur Webb) 10:00 Gramophone Records 10:15 The Daily Service 10:30 Sandy Macpherson at the BBC Theatre Organ 11:00 For the Schools 12:00 noon News 12:15 p.m. The BBC Scottish Orchestra 1:00 Time Signal; News 1:15 The BBC Salon Orchestra 2:00 Time Signal, News 2:15 For the Schools 3:00 The BBC Theatre Orchestra 4:00 ‘Local Discoveries’—presented by Archie Campbell 4:30 Time and News 4:45 Gramophone Records 5:00 The Children’s Hour 5:30 From My Postbag (Listeners’ requests: Sandy Macpherson) 6:00 Time Signal; News 6:15 London Announcements, Scottish Announcements 6:25 First Steps in First Aid, 5—Serious Injuries 6:45 Gramophone Records 7:00 Welsh and Western Announcements 7:10 Piano Recital by Berkeley Mason 7:30 Time Signal, News 7:45 Northern Announcements 8:00 ‘The Last Crusade’—contemporary narrative of the Spanish Armada 9:00 Time Signal, News 9:15 ‘Tonight’s Talk’—a series of talks on important topics of the day 9:30 Sing Song—popular mixture of Variety and community singing 10:30 Time Signal, News 10:45 Midland Announcements, Northern Ireland Announcements 10:55 Interval 11:00 Dance Music on Gramophone Records 12:00 midnight Time Signal; News

Source: RT 831A (Supplementary Edition), 8 September 1939 110 M. DIBBS

I could be reconciled to an air-raid, if in the course of it a bomb would fall on Sandy Macpherson and his everlasting organ, preferably while he was playing his signature tune.5

There was an embargo on outside broadcasts to prevent the overcrowd- ing of telephone lines and even the late-night dance music programmes were initially made up from records. In addition, for reasons of public safety, the government closed all cinemas, theatres, music halls and sports venues, thereby denying the public access to most forms of communal entertainment. This left only pubs and churches as public gathering places. The BBC faltered in reflecting the national mood and raising morale. To a home population which suddenly found itself at war and deprived of light entertainment, programming was tedious and lacked widespread appeal. As Tom Hickman observed:

The radio did not inform: it hectored and, like a spinster aunt, it fussed. The BBC had never been called an auntie before the war…now the soubriquet began to enter the language and it was not born of the affection it later engendered.6

Reassurances from the Radio Times did not stop fierce attacks on the BBC from the press, public and politicians, all of whom demanded a return to peacetime programme standards. This situation was not wholly the fault of the BBC which was simply co-operating with the government. Despite this opprobrium, many readers of the Radio Times appeared to be satisfied with the programmes, and there were few letters of complaint during the first month of the war, ‘Personally I think they are better than the normal peace time programmes’, wrote one listener, ‘Please let me thank you for your cheerful programmes on the wireless’, wrote another although a voice of dissent complained of the Home Service as being ‘a miserable skeleton’.7 Later the BBC offered an explanation:

Your wireless seemed to have changed from an agreeable companion to an official bully…The warmest admirer of the BBC cannot pretend that the programmes it put out in the early days were anything up to its pre-war standard. The fact is they were not meant to be…Cutting down to one programme was a military necessity. It could not hope to be received with any more public delight than the black-out, ration-books, evacuation and other irritating, but inevitable wartime measures…There was a total lack of events and news and what the listening public clamoured for was entertainment.8 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 111

While the BBC had begun the war badly through the adoption of broadcasting policies based on the government’s assessment of how the war would initially progress, it might have been criticised less if both the Ministry of Information (MoI) and the government ministers responsible for broadcasting had been less evasive in replying to parlia- mentary questions and admitting the extent of the government’s role in broadcasting policy at this time instead of letting the BBC shoulder the blame.

Variety on the Move The BBC had been on a war footing for two days prior to the outbreak of war and, with London as the principal target for attack, the programme-making departments were dispersed to the provinces as a precautionary measure in order to ensure continuity of output. Variety, along with Music, Religious Broadcasting and Children’s Hour, was evacuated to Bristol or ‘Variety Town’ as it was enigmatically referred to in Radio Times. Variety’s new home did not remain a secret for long as Bristol was revealed as the location by Radio Times in December 1939. As producer Howard Thomas recalled:

Life was agreeably animated in those early weeks in Bristol, heightened by the comradeship between the London refugees. In the BBC canteen and club, as well as in the pubs, you jostled with Tommy Handley, Ted Kavanagh, Jack Warner, Henry Hall, the BBC Symphony Orchestra, the Director of Religious Broadcasting, and the dozens of stars, repertory actors and visiting performers…Unlike the BBC in London, variety producers in Bristol were almost an élite, and we were given the best billets. Some of the secretaries were herded into hostels while their bosses basked in VIP treatment. I was billeted (for a pound a week) in a dignified Clifton house.9

In addition to the 15 or so production staff, the Department, based at Clifton College initially, consisted of one studio, one orchestra and the 22 strong Variety Repertory Company which had been formed in expectation of war. Its priority was to begin broadcasting as soon as possible with many programmes having to be either newly created or adapted to meet the changed circumstances. The Department broadcast its first live show on 6 September 1939, and Antonia White captured the sense of drama and teamwork as everyone pulled together: 112 M. DIBBS

To the accompaniment of typewriters, pianos, telephone bells and frantic conversations, the first war-time radio revue was written overnight in a blacked-out office and finished two hours before it went into rehearsal. Everyone lent a hand and cheerfully did bits of everyone else’s job as well as their own. Eminent music-hall stars helped with ‘noises off’. Producers turned the handles of roneo machines. Composers copied out band parts. As in every other department of the BBC on the outbreak of war, the frills were ripped off, the shirt sleeves rolled up and the red carpet put away.10

Thereafter, under trying studio and technical conditions, between five and nine simple programmes per day were produced, aimed at the mass audience as light relief between news bulletins and official announcements. The Repertory Company was kept busy with its members appearing in up to ten programmes per week. By the end of November 1939, the actor Maurice Denham had played 225 parts in 100 shows. Vital as these programmes were, the continual use of the same personnel became monotonous and it became clear that this situation could only be temporary. Change came about as Variety settled down in Bristol. More studios were acquired, rehearsal facilities were improved, and old programmes were rejuvenated. New productions became more ambitious as a wider choice of artists and bands became available. By October a marked improvement in broadcast output and public entertainment became noticeable. Flagship programmes such as Band Waggon and ITMA had returned, and cinemas, theatres, music halls and sporting venues began to reopen as the government’s attitude to public entertainment gradually relaxed. However, during the period of show business closure, the BBC had lost a unique opportunity to contract almost any star name, since the MoI insisted on the time-consuming process of vetting all new artists. The Corporation again found itself in the pre-war situation of being in competition with theatres for artists and having to book them at theatrical rates rather than at the BBC’s normal fees. By the end of 1939, radio programmes were approach- ing their pre-war quality and were more appealing to the audience. A proportion of the broadcasting day was devoted to classical and light classical music concerts, outside broadcasts reappeared and there was less reliance on gramophone records as the sole component of programmes. As can be seen in Table 4.2, more Variety programmes were included and with the arrival of the Forces Programme a few weeks later, they began to have an even higher profile in the broadcasting schedule. 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 113

Table 4.2 BBC Home Service: schedule for Monday, 18 December 1939

Time Programme and details

7:00 a.m. Time from Big Ben; News 7:10 Pianoforte Recital 7:30 ‘Lift Up Your Hearts!’ A thought for today 7:35 ‘Up in the Morning Early’: morning physical exercise for men 7:45 Old English Songs 8:00 Time Signal; News; summary of the day’s programmes 8:10 Sandy Macpherson at the theatre organ 8:45 Don Felipe and the Cuban Caballeros with Betty Bucknelle 9:30 An Orchestral Concert 10:15 Time Signal; The Daily Service 10:30 ‘Films in Wartime’ 10:45 Alan Paul and Ivor Dennis: melodies for all moods on two pianos 11:00 For the Schools 11:20 ‘Music by Frank Bridge’ 11:45 For the Schools 12:00 Tom Jenkins at the organ of the Plaza Cinema, Swansea noon 12:20 Dvorak 1:00 Time Signal; News 1:10 Maurice Winnick and his Orchestra 1:40 An Orchestral Concert 2:20 For the Schools 3:00 Tommy Matthews and his Concert Orchestra present ‘Swift Serenade’ 3:30 ‘Christmas’ an incidental essay by D.G. Bridson 4:00 Time from Big Ben; News 4:15 ‘Lucky Dip’ 5:00 The Children’s Hour 5:30 Granados: three pieces from Goyescas 6:00 Time Signal; News 6:15 ‘News of Paul Temple’: a serial play by Francis Durbridge 6:40 Darts: a challenge match 7:00 National Announcements; Regional Announcements 7:15 Scottish and Northern Ireland Announcements 7:40 The Artist in the Witness Box 8:00 ‘Monday Night at Eight’ [compendium programme]: Inspector Hornleigh Investigates; ‘Anniversary’—Memories of Famous first Nights; Puzzle Corner; ‘Youth Takes a Bow’ 9:00 Time Signal; News 9:15 Tonight’s Talk: ‘Parliament in Wartime’ 9:30 The BBC Orchestra 10:15 ‘The Time Has Come’: a comedy thriller by Arthur Watkyn

(continued) 114 M. DIBBS

Table 4.2 (continued)

Time Programme and details

10:45 ‘The Smilers’ League’: part of the popular ‘Sing it Through’ series 11:15 Jack Payne with his Band 12:00 Time Signal; News midnight 12:15 Close Down

Source: RT 846, 15 December 1939 Note: Variety Department programmes are shown in bold type

In a report to the BBC’s Home Broadcasting Board, John Watt set out his vision for the development of wartime Variety.11 The Department would continue to produce the programmes in the genres in which it excelled. The primary workload would comprise three (‘light frothy’) programmes between 12:30 and 2 pm, one studio production and possibly one outside broadcast between 2 and 6 pm and three programmes during the 6 pm to midnight slot. Watt proposed to keep the public at home by using one high-quality show nightly using proven pre-war favourites such as Monday Night at Eight, Songs from the Shows or ITMA and two lesser shows. There would also be new shows of which Garrison Theatre (1939–41) was one, a programme based around First World War concert parties and broadcast live before an audience mainly of servicemen. Dance band music, an important constituent of departmental programming, was seen as an ideal way of plugging gaps in the schedule particularly as, at this time, there was still a great deal of programming uncertainty.

Assessing Audience Opinion The BBC adopted three methods of assessment of their wartime audiences which provided accurate patterns of listening and opinion throughout the war. Firstly, from December 1939 Robert Silvey, Head of Listener Research, introduced a continuous daily audience survey using a representative sample of 800 listeners to produce a General Listening Barometer, which provided a quantitative audience estimate in percentage terms for each programme broadcast.12 Secondly, some 2,000 volunteers were recruited as Honorary Local Correspondents, typically small businessmen or public servants, to keep the BBC in touch with public opinion about broadcasting. Finally, in 1941, 500 volunteers were appointed who were 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 115 eventually split into five listening panels, music, drama, features, talks and light entertainment. They compiled weekly listening diaries which detailed their opinions of programmes. This measurement was termed the ‘Listening Thermometer’ or ‘Appreciation Index’ (AI) which scored programmes in points out of 100. The importance of Listener Research was emphasised early in the war when the MoI became concerned by anecdotal evidence that the morale of some sections of British society was being weakened by the nightly propaganda broadcasts of William Joyce from Radio Hamburg. Joyce who had been nicknamed Lord Haw-Haw in September 1939 by Jonah Barrington, radio critic of the Daily Express, on account of his upper- class English accent, commanded ridicule rather than serious attention. The Ministry commissioned Listener Research to investigate audience listening patterns for Joyce. Each night in early December 1939, it was found that about 25 per cent of the population listened to the news from Hamburg broadcast in English. Men listened more than women as did the younger section of the population and those with higher incomes. Contrary to the Ministry’s belief, it was discovered that the average listener was both well-educated and politically aware and simply seeking light relief, with active encouragement from a section of the press. Typical reasons given for listening to Joyce were entertainment value, curiosity about the enemy and boredom with BBC programmes. The BBC responded by scheduling some of its most popular programmes in direct competition with Joyce. Once the Forces Programme became well established, Joyce’s audiences diminished considerably from a peak of 26.5 per cent to 13.3 per cent between January and May 1940.13 This report gave the Listener Research Department gravitas, not only as a medium of enquiry into the nature of the BBC audience but also as an instrument of social research. As Siân Nicholas has concluded:

This report like no other underlined the sheer scope and potential of BBC Listener Research: in providing substantive figures, in setting those figures in context, and in drawing important social and political conclusions from its findings. It established the BBC as an authority on public behaviour and public opinion.14

Listener Research not only produced a record of wartime listening but also provided a sense of what life was like in wartime Britain. Apart from 116 M. DIBBS daily and weekly listening patterns, there were local and panel reports which offered a record of listeners’ tastes and opinions on both programmes and scheduling. Listener Research found, for example, that when news of the progress of war was bad, the majority of listeners did not want Variety programmes reduced. While two-thirds of the audience thought the BBC was successfully curbing vulgarity in programmes, it was found that older, female and middle-class listeners felt that the BBC should be taking more care in this area.15 While Listener Research enabled some members of the public to voice their thoughts on programmes directly to the BBC, correspondents to Radio Times were having a more difficult time. The magazine reminded its readers that while the BBC was interested in their views and suggestions, it could only reply to and acknowledge a very small number. It concluded in a chiding manner, ‘unless you have something really important to say, perhaps you would like to keep your remarks until times and conditions are easier.’16 In 1941 fans of Sandy Macpherson were reminded, ‘don’t expect a reply and don’t write again asking for one. If you are lucky and your request is to be played Sandy will write and tell you anyway’.17 Producer and presenter Doris Arnold adopted a more sympathetic approach. Shortly before a new series of her programme These You Have Loved, she asked her listeners, to forgive a ‘discourtesy’ on her part if the majority of letters to her were answered by the Programme Correspondence Section; it was impossible to reply personally to so many letters, but she would certainly read all those addressed to her.18 The radio critic also provided a source of comment on the popularity of BBC programmes. Bernard Buckham of the Daily Mirror, for example, berated the BBC over a number of issues including the dullness of programmes, the doubtful value of Listener Research and the mutual backslapping between artists in programmes. Mass-Observation, the social survey into aspects of ordinary life which had been founded in 1937 by anthropologist Tom Harrisson, film-maker Humphrey Jennings and poet, journalist and sociologist Charles Madge, was also a source of public opinion. An early wartime Mass-Observation study found that the BBC had correctly judged the degree of seriousness in its programmes and that there was hardly any criticism of Variety programmes; the majority of listeners were happy with wartime entertainment, although there was room for improvement in quality.19 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 117

The Forces Programme In late 1939, discussions were held between the BBC, the Air Ministry and the War Office regarding the provision of a new radio network for the British armed services in France. The commercial stations Radio Luxembourg and Radio Normandie had ceased broadcasting at the outbreak of war although the latter briefly reopened in the guise of Radio International to broadcast to allied troops from its transmitter at Fécamp. The station was subsequently closed by the French military on security grounds on 3 January 1940.20 The BBC Control Board agreed and the Air Ministry approved the use of the wavelength 342.1 metres for the new network and the BBC began a series of experimental broadcasts between 6 pm and 12:15 am from Sunday, 7 January 1940. This was to assess the feasibility of providing a permanent, daily radio network of cheerful and undemanding programmes primarily for the British Expeditionary Force (BEF) to alleviate boredom, maintain morale and retain contact with home. The Forces Programme’s audience was predominantly young male soldiers listening in noisy canteens, barracks, messes or in small groups, sometimes using the programmes as a soundtrack to other activities. This called for a new approach to programme-making, particularly as the BBC would now have to accept background (or ‘tap’) listening as a fact of life. With collective listening assumed to be the norm, many programmes provided by the Home Service such as talks, plays and concerts would be unsuitable for those who were unable to listen uninterrupted. On this point, Radio Times was at pains to point out shortly before the start of the Forces Programme that ‘nobody in the BBC thinks the Forces do not like the same things as listeners at home, but different conditions of listening call for different types of programme’.21 The Programme would also serve as an alternative to the Home Service for the British domestic audience and indeed, the BBC encouraged home listeners to tune into the new network. The Forces Programme initially broadcast a limited range of its own programmes with gaps in the schedule being filled by additional ones taken from the Home Service (see Table 4.3). The experimental network’s first night began modestly broadcasting just four of its own programmes, which occupied approximately 35 per cent of its available airtime. The artists featured were the BBC Salon Orchestra, Peter Dawson the bass- baritone, Alfred Van Dam and his State Orchestra, live from the Gaumont State Cinema in Kilburn, London and Mantovani and his Orchestra. The 118 M. DIBBS

Table 4.3 ‘For the Forces’: schedule for Tuesday, 20 February 1940

Time Programme and details

11:00 a.m. Summary of the day’s programmes 11:05 Stories in Song: popular dance ballads recorded by popular dance bands 11:30 The Tudor Sextet 12:00 noon Music by Ketelby (gramophone records) 12:20 p.m. Light Music from Italy 1:00 Time Signal; News 1:10 Leslie Simpson at the organ of the Granada, Welling, Kent 1:40 ‘Bill and Bob Somewhere in France’ (Parlez-vous français?) 2:00 Take Your Choice from an armful of records taken at random from the rack 2:40 Alfredo Campoli in a programme of popular violin pieces 3:00 Billy Cotton and his Band 3:30 The New Hippodrome Orchestra from the New Hippodrome Theatre, Coventry 4:20 ‘Café Colette’ 4:45 New Gramophone Records 5:15 ‘Trans Canada’: Sandy Macpherson at the theatre organ 5:45 Guy Lombardo and his Royal Canadians: 15 minutes of sweet music on records 6:00 ‘Play Gypsy Play’ introducing The Caravan Players 6:20 Naval Log: a description of recent events at sea 6:30 RAF Discoveries: a search for talent at an RAF camp in the South of England 7:00 John Hilton Talking 7:15 Eddie Carroll and his Band 7:40 ‘Top of the Bill’: George Formby in an excerpt from ‘Dick Whittington’ 8:00 Ice Hockey: Royal Canadian Horse Artillery v. Harringay Greyhounds 8:30 ‘When You and I were Dancing’: Dave Frost and his Band 9:00 Time Signal; News 9:15 The Voice of the Nazi: ‘Some tricks of the trade’ 9:30 Variety from London’s oldest Music Hall—Collins, Islington Green 10:00 Excerpts from Ivor Novello’s Drury Lane Productions 10:30 Harry Roy and his Band from the Café Anglais, London 10:55 Summary of tomorrow’s programmes 11:00 Close down

Source: RT 855, 16 February 1940 Note: Forces Programme programmes are shown in bold type; those shown in normal type were broadcast simultaneously with the Home Service. On this particular day, the Forces Programme carried 87 per cent of its own programmes 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 119 programmes were listed in Radio Times within a small box headed ‘For the Forces’. By the end of the first week, programme content remained limited but was becoming a little less formal as the network began to find its feet. Towards the end of January 1940, Frederick Ogilvie, the BBC’s Director-General, embarked on a fact-finding mission to France to hear for himself the views of all ranks of the British forces about BBC programmes, reception and the most convenient hours for listening. In addition to news and sport, what the Forces wanted was variety, dance music, theatre organ broadcasts, revue and excerpts from musicals. The Radio Times summed up the situation:

light programmes will always be more acceptable, the kind of programmes that do not suffer unduly by interruption, either by conversation or by the call of duty – indeed, the kind of programmes that may even be enhanced by communal enjoyment and a running exchange of comment.22

The network was continually evolving and the BBC invited the troops to listen to the programmes and then contact them regarding their opinions. Additionally, the Listener Research Department set up a network of some 500 Forces correspondents from across the Army, Navy and Air Force, similar to those of the home front. The experiment was hailed a success and, from 18 February 1940, the network was constituted on a daily basis operating a 12-hour service between 11 am and 11 pm and offering almost exclusively popular entertainment on a single wavelength. Programmes would be short, for a mass audience and usually not exceeding 30 minutes in length. By the time the Forces Programme had been permanently established, as Table 4.3 shows, its output now comprised the majority of its own programmes with minimal reliance on the Home Service for content. As alternative listening for the home audience, the network was given a much higher profile inRadio Times which now devoted a whole page to the network’s output in as much detail as that of the Home Service. The Forces Programme represented a break with the BBC’s past as it gradually surrendered Reithian ideas by including Variety and dance bands on Sundays, abandoned mixed programming and deliberately provided entertainment for tap listening. The implications of the Forces Programme were not lost on Grace Wyndham Goldie who presciently regarded its arrival as revolutionary and contemplated the potentially far-reaching significance for post-war broadcasting: 120 M. DIBBS

For the firsttime the quality of the programmes is being decided from below rather than above; for the first time the box-office…is dominant…for the first time the BBC is devoting a whole wave-length to programmes which are ninety per cent light in character. And for the first time it is treating Sundays and week-days pretty much alike. These are concessions which it is going to be difficult to withdraw.23

The BBC admitted that its programme plans remained experimental and invited listener’s opinions, criticisms and suggestions to help improve the network. Talks and features would be few but were nevertheless demanded by the forces, provided they were topical and short—no more than ten minutes. High culture would be largely absent, but plays, requested to be short but full of action, were wanted and would be present in the schedule. The Corporation was unequivocal that, in planning the service and in consultation with the troops, the quality of programmes would not be compromised although content would be influenced by pre- war commercial radio and presentation would be more informal, but authoritative. This for some would represent the antithesis of BBC broadcasting values. The Variety Department became the Forces Programme’s biggest contributor, filling over 100 slots with variety, cinema organ programmes, dance music and light music—the staples of the network. A new departure, Parlez-vous français? a weekly sketch programme featuring ‘Bill and Bob Somewhere in France’ was designed to entertain and teach elemen- tary French to the BEF. This was described as ‘the outstanding programme of the week…[which]…had in miniature the inventive imagination and the freshness of approach which these Programmes for the Forces need as a whole’.24 This popular programme demonstrated that the cornerstones of the BBC’s function of informing, educating and entertaining could, even in time of war, find a place, once a week, in a 20-minute corner of the broadcasting schedule. The Listener cautioned against underestimating the tastes of the troops:

The pre-wireless soldier of 1914–18 was incredibly primitive in his tastes. The Kitchener volunteers and conscripts of the last war were decent lads but nine out of ten of them had no artistic culture and had never heard a scientific lecture in their lives. The wireless has changed all that. The BEF comes this time from a world in which the concerts of the BBC Symphony Orchestra and lectures and sermons by eminent scientists and bishops are everyday incidents.25 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 121

In the same article, this view was supported by an army officer:

I think you will find that this Army is more highbrow than is usually supposed…An awful lot of Tipperary and here’s-luck-to-the-boys-in-khaki gets turned out by dance bands and the Press, and though, of course, we don’t know how it goes down at home, it is pretty nauseating here.

Another contentious aspect of the introduction of the Forces Programme was the abandonment of the BBC’s Sunday policy. The Board agreed that Sunday programme criteria would not apply to the network, although it continued to apply to the Home Service. However, this decision was taken without reference to the Director of Religious Broadcasting who complained, ‘I much dislike the impression we may give that, under the cloak of war, we are, for reasons of expediency, doing what we agreed not to do in peace time’.26 He viewed the sudden dilution of Sunday policy with dismay and as one which would have post-war consequences:

The B.E.F. Programme will provide a “secular” alternative for home listeners. This surely means that we will not be able to return to our Sunday policy when the war ends…Does it take the transport of a small group of listeners across the Channel, to give the impression that we care less about religion? … A Sunday programme from which religion is absent, a programme of dance music, cinema, organ and light items, is, I submit, a poor substitute to the modern soldier in the B.E.F. and a poor witness to the spiritual issues at stake in this war.

There was also representation made over the ease with which Sunday Policy was abandoned. The Lord’s Day Observance Society was incensed and told the press:

It is appalling that men face to face with eternity should be regaled with dance music, variety, cabaret…and other inanities in the hallowed hours of each Lord’s Day.27

Having made representation to the Home Service Board, the Director of Religious Broadcasting secured a ‘constructive Sunday policy’ for the Forces Programme which, while not adhering to the BBC’s traditional protocol, marked Sunday out from weekdays by beginning transmissions with a short service, had an evening religious service and ended the day with the Epilogue. 122 M. DIBBS

The Forces Programme quickly gained popularity with the home audience, and Mass-Observation reported it as being in reality the ‘Housewives Programme’, because it was kept on continuously in many homes.28 From an equal split in listening between the Home Service and Forces Programme in early 1941, some 60–65 per cent of the listening public were tuning to the latter by October of that year. A year on, a review of the network in Radio Times recognised that it had been well received and that, as a result of listeners’ views, was providing more than just ‘easy listening’:

From the beginning we have given you religious services, short periods of the best classical music, quiet interludes for literary reflection, dramatised features to keep alive in your minds the strange history of our time or the pleasant scenes of life you will return to. We believed in fact that you would never be satisfied with background listening alone.29

The article invited comments from its readers and proposed that the network retain the established favourites of variety and dance band music but supply more programmes for specialist home defence units as well as drama and features. As we shall see later, the arrival of the Forces Programme would have a significant impact on post-war broadcasting.

On the Move Again Evacuation brought with it many problems for Variety. Bristol suffered bombing raids, which damaged studios and theatres and caused acute disruption to programme-making. The vagaries of an over-crowded wartime public transport system as well as fuel shortages and rationing affected the movement of staff and artists around the Bristol area as well as the rest of the country. Communications to other parts of the BBC, principally through the phone and teleprinter network, were affected. The loss of experienced staff through military service also had consequences for production. This all had a knock-on effect on the Department’s efficiency which was predicated on precise time-keeping. Together with the extra work the Forces Programme entailed, overwork again became a feature of the Department, if indeed it had ever really gone away. Once again Mungo Dewar, the Variety Executive with responsibility for the Department’s administration, warned of the dangers of overwork, as he had done in the 1930s. He complained of the continuous problems 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 123 associated with the weekly production schedule, barely completed before the whole cycle began afresh the following week. He wrote of anxiety, tension and the threat of imminent nervous breakdowns unless a solution was found. Staff shortages, notably of secretaries, shorthand typists and accommodation were serious problems. In addition, in April 1940 John Watt was on sick leave and Pat Hillyard, the Assistant Director of Variety, was doing both jobs. Dewar wrote that Hillyard urgently needed an assistant:

I can assure you that during the day from 9:30 – 7p.m. and even later Mr. Hillyard has Bedlam loose in his office with interviews, producers discussing forward ideas for future programmes, telephone calls with London and producers’ offices, local external calls from people who have all sorts of troop concerts to offer, discussions with Miss McBride over corrections and switches, etc. This cannot go on and an assistant is urgently required if Mr. Hillyard is not to go the same way as Mr. Watt.30

Despite the situation, BBC staff and the public carried on. Tom Hickman gives a sense of the situation:

The alerts became so frequent, interfering with scriptwriting and production, that the staff finally disregarded orders to go to the shelters and remained where they were unless the planes and bombs were getting near… On one occasion, a Music Hall show was recorded in Bristol Central Hall which had been so badly damaged the previous night that it had no roof or windows. Two thousand factory workers came in their lunch hour and sat in the pouring rain singing songs until the engineers repaired the landlines to London.31

In April 1941, with the exception of some staff who returned to London, the Variety Department transferred to the comparative safety of Bangor, North Wales, which meant starting the whole process again of setting up another temporary home. Church halls were converted into studio space, and the Grand Theatre, Llandudno, from where many popular radio shows were broadcast and where the replacement BBC Theatre Organ was installed in May 1941, was requisitioned.32 Apart from the small variety production section which had been based in London, there was one other arm of radio light entertainment which remained in the capital throughout the war. This was the Empire (later Overseas) Entertainments Unit. This was housed in the Criterion Theatre, a building ideally suited to wartime London as it was underground and 124 M. DIBBS therefore relatively safe from bombing. The unit had been set up by Cecil Madden in June 1940 and was responsible for between 50 and 60 programmes per week which were recorded for rebroadcast or transmitted live on short-wave to British, Commonwealth and Dominion forces stationed throughout the world. Unusually, the unit employed female programme presenters, announcers and news readers who were seen as a morale booster to troops overseas. A small number of women variety producers were also appointed during the war to cover male absence in the Forces. These included Joy Russell-Smith who began her BBC career in dance band programmes and later produced Variety Bandbox for much of its post-war existence, Audrey Cameron who later became a Drama producer and Joan Clark who was associated with the popular schools’ quiz programme Top of the Form. From the mid-1950s, Joan Clark remained for many years the sole female producer in the Variety Department. The Unit’s most memorable programmes included Variety Bandbox and Mediterranean (later Middle East) Merry-Go-Round. Variety Bandbox began in December 1942 as an hour-long variety show for the forces which became extremely popular with the home audience and continued beyond the war until September 1952. Merry-Go-Round was sponsored in rotation by each of the three branches of the forces. These programmes survived into the post-war period with the RAF edition metamorphosing into the well-known Much-Binding-in-the-Marsh (1947–53) with Kenneth Horne and Richard Murdoch. Studio Stand Easy, the Army’s programme, became Stand Easy (1946–49), and with a slight change to its title, the Navy’s offering became Waterlogged Spa (1946–49). In addition to these, there were message programmes linking members of the armed services to their relatives and friends which included Here’s Wishing You Well Again, a programme for the wounded in hospital. The Variety Department developed a broad range of studio and outside broadcast programmes from music halls and theatres, factories and military installations, frequently against a back drop of air raids and blackouts. By 1942, the Department was well into its stride as the nation’s prime producer of public entertainment, not only for the home audience but also for the Forces Programme and, to some extent, for the Overseas Service. In February of that year, for example, it was producing around 80 hours of programmes costing in total an average £5,800 per week. However, criticism of the Department proliferated as the quality of output became increasingly difficult to sustain. John Watt was anxious to retain excellence and was not afraid to be self-critical. As early as 1940, he had admitted that 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 125 in putting on 20 different series of shows a year, the Department was lucky if one of those was continually successful.33 Variety’s past triumphs from pre-war years continued to please audiences, notably In Town Tonight, The Kentucky Minstrels and These You Have Loved. By now some wartime success stories were emerging. These included the comedy programmes ITMA, Happidrome and Hi Gang! and the record programme Desert Island Discs in which well-known personalities selected ten, later eight, gramophone records should they be cast away on an imaginary desert island.34 However, in July 1942, Watt voiced concern about the quality of the Department’s output and the unacceptably high number of ‘flops’ and thought that this was due to two important factors. Firstly, with the popularity of the variety theatre, many artists were either contractually unavail- able to the BBC or were dissuaded from broadcasting by the relatively low fees offered by the Corporation. Secondly, increasing numbers of artists, musicians, writers and production staff were called up for war service which curtailed programme ideas and material. The work and development of programmes was also impeded by additional wartime censorship and restrictions on the nature and content of material. The latter were imposed by BBC management who continued to be obsessed with avoid- ing anything remotely vulgar and were frequently over-zealous in the scrutiny of popular music, song lyrics and scripted output in order to reduce any possible offence to the audience. Nevertheless, Watt knew only too well the critical importance of good programme material and was conscious of the effect high-quality entertainment had on morale. However, consistency remained a problem, and his initial policy of one big show per night began to fail. Watt was not short of ideas but he was a realist. He proposed temporarily reversing the policy of engaging stars and building a show around them; instead, new shows would be written which would then be cast. This would give the Department the opportunity to engage new writers and allow many of Variety’s regular contributors, who had suffered ‘burn-out’, some recovery time. It would then be his intention to resume the ‘one-big-show-a-night’ policy. While authors and writers from film and stage had been and were currently being used by the Variety Department, their record was one of only limited success. Writing for radio compared to writing for the theatre or cinema was not always an attractive financial proposition. Watt felt that the BBC should invest in and encourage potential new writers to believe that working in radio was a worthwhile occupation even if many of their shows might initially be deemed not good enough to broadcast. Closely linked to this was the 126 M. DIBBS casting of shows which Watt believed would involve considerable cost in buying artists out of their existing theatre contracts. From Bangor, the Department continued to provide light relief to both the civilian population and the forces, a colossal task from such a remote location. Variety remained in Bangor until, by degrees, it had returned to London by the autumn of 1943.

Keeping Cheerful Some of Variety’s programmes ended with the war or shortly afterwards, while a few survived well into the post-war period. These included The Happidrome (1941–47), which spawned the catchphrase, ‘let me tell you’, which was a live variety show set in an imaginary theatre—in reality the Grand Theatre Llandudno. The show featured established variety stars sandwiched between sketches involving the goings-on of the management team. ITMA arguably became the most celebrated programme of the war, dominating radio comedy and often with audiences of over 40 per cent of the population. It was however poorly received when it began in July 1939 and did not become popular until the Variety Department moved to Bristol where its format underwent considerable revision. The programme relied heavily on its characters, many of whose catchphrases were absorbed temporarily into everyday conversation. The scriptwriter was Ted Kavanagh, the producer Francis Worsley and the star was Tommy Handley as the Minister of Aggravation and Mysteries at the Office of Twerps. The programme wandered into satire, unthinkable before the war, parodying governmental departments and officials. ITMA never challenged authority but instead acted as a safety valve for the public’s irritation with bureaucracy, wartime shortages, queues and the black market.35 The successful pre-war proto-comedy programme, the influentialBand Waggon, did not last beyond November 1939 (three series, 52 editions) because of the cast’s commitment to the successful stage version and the increasing difficulties of having to write new material each week. Some programmes were aimed at specific sections of the workforce. Ack-Ack, Beer Beer was a twice-weekly series combining information and entertainment for the men and women serving at anti-aircraft, barrage balloon and searchlight sites. Works Wonders began in November 1940 as a programme of lunchtime amateur concerts from factory canteens introduced by and featuring members of the workforce—entertainment by the workers for the workers. It was originally broadcast fortnightly in the 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 127

North Region but extended to the whole country in June 1942 with BBC regions rotating to produce an edition. From the outset, there was an insistence that the programme was solely amateur in content and BBC staff were frequently reminded that professional guest artists were not to be used to bolster the overall standard which was often low. While there was internal criticism of the programme, it was defended by Michael Standing, Head of Outside Broadcasts:

the standard of the programme must inevitably be fairly low…however much you or I writhe at the performance of the so-called artists, the public takes them to their heart because they’re wearing overalls.36

However, he requested that producers be more selective in choosing the factories and their talent at auditions. Despite the criticism, it proved popular with radio audiences and factories competed to be included in the series. The BBC, knowing that civilians were a crucial factor in the war effort, addressed this by providing cheerful entertainment for collective listening at places of work. Workers’ Playtime (1941–67) was a programme which used professional artists broadcasting from works and factory canteens. The impetus for the programme came from Ernest Bevin, Minister of Labour, who had lobbied the BBC for entertainment to be brought to isolated factories. The simplicity and intimacy of the programme was con- veyed in a contemporary account:

A small wooden stage is put up in the canteen, the microphone slung from the roof, and the audience consists of as many workers as can jam themselves into the room; clustering at the foot of the platform until the front row is almost touching the singer.37

Originally planned for six weeks, it was subsequently extended to six months with broadcasts increased to three times a week from October 1941 and for security reasons was always broadcast ‘from a factory somewhere in Britain’. During the programme’s first two years, 257 factories were visited and 270,000 workers were entertained in audiences ranging in size from 150 to 10,000.38 John Watt was anxious to keep the programme as pure entertainment, and when the notion of inserting a pep talk into its content was suggested, he recommended that it be broadcast as a separate item after, and not as part of, the programme. He reasoned: 128 M. DIBBS

it would be a grave error to put in propaganda or exhortation into the middle of this entertainment programme. Workers are always thoroughly suspicious of ‘Welfare’ in any shape or form, invariably thinking their employer or the government is only giving them entertainment, or the canteen, or whatever the amenity may be, in order to get something out of them. In fact – that there is a catch in it.39

The programme received praise from the Ministry of Labour where it was felt that it had made an impact on production and morale, particularly among women workers.40 Two of the most popular wartime programmes were Music While You Work (MWYW), which survived until 1967, and Brains Trust (1941–48). Both programmes were contentious in their own way: the former because of its artistic policy and the latter on account of the restrictive nature of the questions set. MWYW began on Sunday, 23 June 1940, as a twice-daily, half-hour programme broadcast at 10:30 am and 3:00 pm with a night shift edition added from August 1942.41 The programme consisted of uninterrupted continuous rhythmic music to help boost factory production, lift the spirits of the workforce by reducing the often tedious nature of the work and maintain morale. From October 1940 MWYW started and finished with its famous signature tune, Eric Coates’s march Calling All Workers, which he dedicated to ‘All Who Work’. For the programme, the BBC required cheerful and uplifting music without vocals, played at a constant tempo and devoid of all musical expression and cultural value. As a BBC memo made clear, there was to be no aesthetic consideration when constructing the programme:

From the point of view of the general listener we are asking for a bad piece of programme building…Artistic value must not be considered. The aim is to produce something which is rhythmically monotonous and repetitive; a “sustaining” background of brisk, cheerful but unobtrusive music…Subtlety of any kind is out of place.42

Providing such utilitarian fare was diametrically opposed to the Reithian philosophy of maintaining high cultural standards. Initially the programme attracted internal censure largely due to bands failing to comply with the strict musical pre-conditions even though the unvar- nished creative restrictions were unambiguously spelt out to participating band leaders: 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 129

“MUSIC WHILE YOU WORK” To All Programme Builders PLEASE NO SLOW FOXTROTS TANGOS WALTZES DREAMY NUMBERS of any sort VOCALS of the sob-stuff order COMPLICATED CROSS-RHYTHM in hot jazz numbers SELECTIONS with frequently changing style and speed. BUT PLENTY OF SNAP AND PUNCH RHYTHM of a straightforward kind CLEAN CLEAR-CUT MELODY BRIGHTNESS of all sorts.

It may be heavy going for your band, and they might feel quite exhausted at the end of the half-hour, BUT you’ve no idea how exhilarating the right sort of music is to the jaded workers who listen to you.

These programmes are purely utilitarian; they do not need much contrast either in style or dynamics (never any quiet playing, as the noise of the machines just obliterates the music) nor need you think about the needs of the ordinary listeners during these half-hours, but just try to make the period one of unrelieved BRIGHTNESS and CHEERINESS.43

While the programme targeted the factory audience (approximately 5.6 per cent of the adult population), Listener Research found that by August 1940, 10 per cent of the adult population was listening to the programme with housewives in particular using it as a background to housework.44 Initially there was no central coordination or scrutiny of MWYW which used a multiplicity of producers, many of whom had differing ideas about the programme’s musical direction. However, in May 1941, Wynford Reynolds, himself a band leader, was appointed as the MWYW Programme Organiser. On the programme’s first anniversary, Radio Times reported it as being one of the BBC’s most popular programmes. While it had been known for some time that music could relieve the boredom of repetitive factory work, the article went on to describe how a small study by the Medical Research Council into fatigue and boredom in repetitive work had concluded that when music was played in the work- place, increases in productivity of between 6.2 and 11.3 per cent were 130 M. DIBBS noted, while individual increases could be as much as 23.1 per cent. A Kent firm found that production had jumped by 30 per cent; another found that under the right conditions overtime could be reduced by half, while a warehouse gained improvements of between 10 and 15 per cent. Following a well-publicised experiment in July 1941 to ensure that the programme was achieving its objectives, firms were invited to report on the audibility, rhythm, enjoyment and effect on output of a number of different types of band.45 From 140 returns covering 52,000 workers, a comprehensive report on this experiment was produced by Listener Research in October 1941.46 Judged in order as being best suited to the programme were the Coventry Hippodrome Orchestra, followed by Victor Silvester’s Orchestra, the Black Dyke Mills Band and George Scott Wood’s Accordion Band. All conformed rigidly to the programme’s strict parameters. Many firms found it difficult to assess the effect of MWYW in terms of increased output although managements frequently accepted that increases had taken place even though there was no statistical evidence to substantiate it. This was borne out by Reynolds’s comprehensive report on the programme for May to November 1941 which quoted many factory managers who wrote enthusiastically about the programme, believing it to have increased production for a variety of reasons, for example:

When, owing to a breakdown, no music was used production dropped 13%. When music was reintroduced not only was normal production regained but output increased by 5% … We have aimed at creating a background to increase and improve happiness and health, as thereby, we consider we shall obtain the best production … In the absence of music there is a great tendency to discuss the doings of the night before and to talk across the machines. Immediately music is heard conversation tends to fade away.47

Reynolds suggested the principal benefits of the programme as boosting the tired worker, relieving boredom, increasing happiness, minimising conversation and cutting down absenteeism. The most popular types of band were dance bands, which created an atmosphere of ‘cheerfulness and gaiety’; novelty bands, particularly accordion bands for their musical variety, theatre orchestras, and military; and brass bands. The least popular were record programmes and those involving organs which were difficult to amplify and tended to add to the general background noise. The majority of managements felt that vocal tunes tended to be a distraction to the 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 131 worker and should be entirely dispensed with. In summary, the music needed to be familiar; jazz had to be avoided as the melody had to be clearly defined rather than syncopated, dynamics were required to be constant, and it was essential for rhythms to be bright and cheerful. Much of the content of this first report formed the basis of Reynolds’s General Directive for the programme which he introduced in June 1942. Reynolds’s annual surveys on MWYW reported that between 1943 and 1945, the total number of participating factories rose from 7,000 serving four million workers to 9,000 with a workforce of almost five million. Listening figures for the daytime audience for the year to May 1943 averaged 10.3 per cent during the day and 11.6 per cent on night shifts— approximately 3.4 and 3.8 million listeners respectively. A year later the audiences for the day and night programmes had increased to 11.6 and 15.6 per cent, respectively. In summing up the programme’s achievements shortly before the end of the war, Reynolds wrote:

“Music While You Work” has become a National Institution. Primarily intended to encourage and stimulate our wartime workers its cheerful and familiar music, uninterrupted by announcements, has also established it as a favourite with home listeners…Listener Research figures are at their highest for the night and week-end sessions, when comparatively few listeners are at work…The series has played no small part in brightening the life of the working community and, acting as a “tonic”, has helped, directly or indirectly, to increase production. I have reason to believe that this tonic or stimulus will be as important to industry in the future as it has been in the past.48

Mass-Observation praised the programme for helping production in a significant way. ‘It makes a break in the long hours to many who are now working, a mental rest pause without any stopping of effort’.49 This was vindication of the BBC’s policy of providing a programme of bland, expressionless, non-stop background music. The programme exemplified collective listening, borne out by its popularity with the regular home audience who took to it as readily as those for whom it was primarily intended. The Brains Trust (1941–49) melded high and low culture, combining education with entertainment to produce arguably the most unlikely programme success story of the war. Originally titled Any Questions? and described by John Watt as being ‘serious in intention, light in character’, 132 M. DIBBS the programme began on 1 January 1941 and involved a team of respected panellists answering questions sent in by members of the public and the armed services. It aimed to provide answers in terms of opinion rather than fact in order to stimulate discussion. Initially the question master was Donald McCullough described as ‘a man of attractive personality, intelligent, a witty and ready speaker, and capable of holding his own with both questioners and answerers’.50 The panel changed during the programme’s history, but the most celebrated panel comprised Commander A.B. Campbell, Julian Huxley and C.E.M. Joad, all of whom became household names. The Brains Trust was originally devised and co- produced by Variety producer Howard Thomas and West of England Features producer Douglas Cleverdon in order to maintain a balance between entertainment and intellect. The programme was aimed at the Forces and, in devising it, the producers stated:

the Forces should be able to stand once a week a programme that involves some degree of mental application, provided that the presentation is light without being comic.51

As the BBC Handbook 1942 pointed out, ‘the intention was never to cram encyclopaedias into listeners’ minds. The most the BBC hoped to achieve was to make people think a little more’. However, from the outset there was trouble on the production side, and irreconcilable differences developed between the two producers who were polar opposites and had competing ideas for the programme. Thomas, a former advertising executive with experience in commercial radio, wanted the questions to be answered by a panel of experts, thus bringing the listener into contact with some of the finest minds of the day. Cleverdon, also a Bristol bookseller, favoured a more features-based dramatised approach.52 Thomas’s panel format was accepted and, having claimed credit for the programme, he wanted to be solely responsible for it. The relationship gradually deterio- rated and he wrote to John Watt:

The programme in its present form is entirely my conception and I am doing all the work. I choose the experts…select the questions and produce the programmes. In spite of this my collaborator appears to get the official credit for the programme…The programme is now running so smoothly that it does not justify two people and I do think that my sole charge of it might become official.53 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 133

There were clearly communication problems between the two men and Cleverdon wrote to Controller (Programmes) Basil Nicolls to express his concerns:

The last few days have shown the difficulty of collaborating with Howard Thomas. In spite of urgent requirements, I have continually failed to contact him, because programme work has taken him away from his office…and me from mine…This may partly explain our respective complaints of each other’s conduct in the past…I did not get the impression that he wished me to do more than act as his junior assistant; and this was especially clear at the recording session.54

However, following the intervention of Basil Nicolls and John Watt, and at Cleverdon’s suggestion, a compromise was reached with the programme being produced by the two men on alternate weeks. Thomas assumed responsibility for the programme from the summer of 1941 until his resignation from the BBC in November 1943.55 The programme’s popularity was such that its initial run of six weeks was extended to 18 months and the original weekly half-hourly transmission was increased to two 45-minute sessions. The first programme was heard by six per cent of the home radio audience (two million) and 15 questions were received. The average audiences for 1942 were 19 and 16 per cent for the Tuesday and Sunday programmes respectively. By the end of the first series, some 122,000 items of mail had been received containing 90,000 questions, of which 400 had been answered. The questions which had attracted most mail were ‘How does a fly land on the ceiling?’ and ‘Why do cattle rise hind-legs first, and horses fore- legs first?’56 The BBC expressed bemusement at the programme’s success:

One of the surprises of wartime radio is that five men discussing philosophy, art, and science should have a regular audience of at least ten million listeners. A programme without even a signature tune, without any of the famous names in entertainment, without the familiar trappings of showmanship – yet with as big a public as ‘High [sic] Gang!’57

The audience increased from 20.7 to 29.4 per cent between 1942 and 1945, the largest of any spoken-word programme with the exception of the news.58 Of the Brains Trust, Joad later reflected, 134 M. DIBBS

men on lonely anti-aircraft batteries and searchlight stations, who had pre- cious little to do in their leisure moments but listen to the wireless, occasionally wearied of crooners, light music, and wisecracking comedians, and felt the need for more solid fare; something that they could think about, chew over and even discuss.59

The programme had unintentional and positive consequences; Brains Trusts were established all over the country and in the Forces. Books mentioned in the programme increased in sales and demand for them rose in libraries, while a Brains Trust book in aid of books for the Forces sold over 100,000 copies.60 Basil Nicolls, the final arbiter on panel members and questions, tried to ensure that politics, religion and sex were never discussed. Despite Joad and Huxley complaining that the questions were becoming too entertaining and less educative, the BBC remained adamant about the programme’s original purpose of conveying information in an entertaining way in order to stimulate thought: an ideal Reithian concept.

The Dance Music Policy Committee Until 1942, regulation of dance music was largely on an ad hoc basis with songs thought undesirable for broadcasting being intercepted by the Variety Department before transmission. This was often based on the whim or perception of a member of senior management who had heard something they considered to be unsuitable or irritating, or by complaint from a member of the audience. A list of banned songs for 3 December 1941 included the titles She Had to Go and Lose It at the Astor, with its implied reference to the loss of virginity rather than a fur coat, Santa Claus Is Bringing You Home for Christmas, which was considered to be tactless when Forces Christmas leave was cancelled and One for the Road which was banned on grounds of road safety. Inevitably songs slipped through the net and brought complaints. Another early casualty was the tune Home Sweet Home which, it was claimed, reduced newly bereaved mothers to tears. Conversely, a comment from an official in the MoI to the BBC referring to many complaints about depressing songs and their effect on women whose sons or husbands were serving with the Forces, suggested listeners enjoyed nothing more than a good weep.61 Official censorship of popular music was established in 1942 when the Dance Music Policy Committee (DMPC) was formed initially as a means 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 135 of eradicating the practice of ‘jazzing the classics’, that is, adapting themes from classical music to either dance tunes or popular songs. This was a practice which was unacceptable to BBC senior management on grounds of bad taste. With Richard Howgill, Nicolls’s Assistant, as Chairman, membership comprised both the Heads and other members of the Music and Variety Departments. Basil Nicholls was unequivocal:

The jazzing by dance bands of classical tunes or the borrowing or adaptation of them…is normally quite unacceptable. On the most favourable estimate, music so transcribed can only be considered to have ‘entertainment’ value and many of the transcriptions are definitely offensive and musically harmful. Each example must be reviewed and arbitrary decisions regarding inclusion or exclusion, recognizing that there are degrees of adaptation ranging from the innocuous to the obscene. The more serious experiments in this genre which obviously arise from a sincere artistic impulse should, if acceptable, be broadcast with special presentation.62

The Committee’s role quickly expanded to include the evaluation of all dance music records and sheet music, and it decided what could be broadcast and what would be banned. The DMPC’s inaugural meeting was held at the end of July 1942. Classical themes which were deemed to have been jazzed were automatically banned where they were played as dance music; otherwise, they would be referred to the BBC’s Director of Music who would adjudicate on questions of musical taste. The jazzing of traditional tunes might be permitted if they were classed as light rather than serious, and in this respect, John Peel was permitted but Loch Lomond and Annie Laurie were banned.63 Even well-argued appeals by experienced programme staff could bring an unsympathetic response from senior management. Earlier that year, the cultured Leslie Perowne of the Gramophone Department, both a jazz enthusiast and a keen lover of classical music, argued against banning the Django Reinhardt/Stephane Grappelli recording of a work based on Bach’s Double Violin Concerto. He believed that:

Parody in the form of skillfully played and cleverly arranged piece of swinging of some well-known classic can surely be witty, clever and pleasant to listen to. But when some illiterate writer of popular songs takes a theme from some serious work and adds a lyric which is completely devoid of any artistic merit but which is obviously meant to be taken seriously, it only succeeds in being vulgar.64 136 M. DIBBS

He also stated that the BBC’s policy was inconsistent since dance bands were being allowed to broadcast a plagiarised version of the opening movement of Tchaikovsky’s first Piano Concerto, entitledConcerto for Two. Basil Nicholls remained immovable, ‘ a jazz arrangement of a classic is not parody, nor is it plagiarism: it is merely deliberate distortion’. As for Concerto for Two, the Corporation’s policy was muddied as Nicolls dismissed Perowne’s representation with the words, ‘I don’t feel strongly about it myself, but we will consider it in due course’. Apart from weeding out jazzed classics, the Committee also set about the eradication of crooning and songs deemed inappropriate for broadcasting, which included those of an offensive nature or which contained mawkish lyrics. ‘Slushy’ or excessively sentimental songs were believed to be detrimental to the morale of the armed services. Sometimes the music for songs might be passed for performance, but their lyrics might be banned or require some revision. A tune could also be banned if the title was considered to be undesirable. The Director of Variety frequently issued an updated list of songs unsuitable for broadcasting. Sometimes, decisions could be tricky. Noël Coward’s Don’t Let’s Be Beastly to the Germans had to be approved as suitable according to the circumstances of its broadcasting with the word ‘bloody’ being replaced by ‘blasted’ except, oddly, in the case of Coward’s own recording. Additionally, the song could not be sung by women. Lili Marlene, popular with the desert armies of both sides, was banned from the General Forces Programme as it was considered offensive to some Balkan states.65 By November 1943, the list of banned songs reached nearly 400, many excluded from broadcasting without explanation. These included the standards As Time Goes By, Embraceable You and Stormy Weather. The Committee was a powerful body with no external oversight which enabled the BBC to control the broadcast of popular music, and its default position was one of over-sensitivity with an unfailing tendency towards caution.66

Jazz and Popular Music Dance music, including jazz and cinema organ recitals, was popular with the public during the war and was used both as entertainment and as a national morale booster. It was relatively easy to produce and formed a significant proportion of Variety Department output as well being used to plug gaps in the schedule. At the outbreak of war, dance music comprised 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 137

5.1 per cent of the BBC’s total output and by 1944 accounted for over 17.5 per cent of the combined Home and Forces Programme output.67 In August 1943, Spike Hughes, the respected jazz musician, was asked by the BBC to report on the suitability of five dance bands contracted to the BBC.68 He argued that dance music had been neither broadcast for dancing at home for many years nor acceptable for critical listening. Instead it functioned largely as a background to domestic life. Only Geraldo’s band reached Hughes’s high standard. The repertoire and arrangements were well-thought out, and it was a band which was aware of the general development of dance music over the past 10 years. Victor Silvester’s Band, while prosaic in style, was highly popular and achieved what it set out to do, ‘play choruses and first time bars until the listener has had just enough’. The Ivy Benson Band was ‘to be overheard, not listened to critically’ and while functional, suffered from a poor choice of material. Hughes considered Jack Payne’s Band to be pretentious particularly with the ‘meaningless introductory chatter before it [got] to the tune’. Nevertheless, the band could play very well but only ‘in spite of its general set-up, not because of it’. Finally, the Billy Ternent Band was ‘full and cheerful and musicianly’, but needed to avoid playing swing. The DMPC was largely in agreement with Hughes but defended Variety’s choice of bands; while Victor Silvester was ‘dull to anyone to anyone musically intelligent’, the band had audiences twice those of any other. The Committee agreed with Hughes’s view that the Ivy Benson Band broadcast too frequently and in future this would be cut by about half. It con- curred to a certain extent with Hughes’s criticism of Payne’s band but was pleased that it was wholly British in outlook rather than pseudo-American. Ternent’s swing playing was acceptable because it only formed a small part of his repertoire. However, while the Committee thought that Geraldo was unimaginative and pseudo-American, nevertheless it was ‘extremely good of its kind’. The DMPC favoured resting BBC contract bands one by one, for the mutual benefit of the bands, the listeners and the BBC. It also proposed the formation of a dance band version of the BBC Symphony Orchestra comprising the very best musicians of the genre to begin broadcasting in October 1943. But listeners did not always want to hear British bands. American swing was popular and Glenn Miller and the AEF Orchestra broadcast weekly on the Home Service during the summer of 1944 giving the radio audience a programme of live American big band music. The band was well-liked by listeners prompting one to write to Radio Times, 138 M. DIBBS

‘At long last, the BBC has given us a taste of what good swing music ought to be. What joy to listen to a really superb American band broadcasting in this country’.69 But there could be disappointments with American artists. Former BBC secretary Marion Holledge recalled seeing Bing Crosby at one of Miller’s broadcasts from the Paris Cinema:

But what a shock awaited us. In came a tiny figure dressed in American fatigues…much too big for him. He clutched a gas mask and tin hat and dragged a kit bag behind him. Worst of all, to our surprise, he was totally bald. He had obviously left his toupee over the Atlantic…When he sang, his voice was thin and quite unlike the rich voice of his films. A big disappoint- ment to all the audience that night!70

Jazz continued to be regarded as part of dance music, and both Charles Chilton and Leslie Perowne later recalled that the Corporation relaxed its attitude towards jazz during the war because of its popularity with the Forces. Chilton devised and inaugurated Radio Rhythm Club in June 1940 which was popular with swing aficionados and attracted those with little knowledge of the music, frequently gaining audiences as high as 15 per cent. The programme continued after Chilton went into the RAF in 1941 although he occasionally managed to return to produce the programme when on leave. His replacement was Harry Parry, whose Radio Rhythm Club Sextet—also the brainchild of Chilton—made its debut in September 1940 and became the programme’s resident band. At one point Parry requested that his broadcasts be made from the Embassy Club in London, but this was vetoed by Cecil Madden, Head of the Empire Entertainments Unit, on grounds that he didn’t want to give the impression to those serving overseas that too much gaiety and night life was going on at home. Radio Rhythm Club continued until 1947 when it became the long-running programme Jazz Club.

Crooning and Slush Crooning remained a contentious issue within the BBC during the war. While the Variety Department seldom if ever used the term, in May 1941 it was suggested that its use be dropped.71 A request to broadcast the Grand Final of the National Crooning Championship in August 1941, in line with the BBC’s policy, was predictably declined. Basil Nicolls, in the absence of a precise definition of the term, reminded the Variety Department that the BBC remained vehemently opposed to it: 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 139

we all know that crooning means emasculated singing of sickly sentimental stuff, and if we all keep that in mind all the time we ought not to have much difficulty in practice in exorcizing the crooner.72

Cecil Madden was particularly averse to overseas broadcasting of slush and sloppy songs, unless played as instrumentals which he felt would have little effect on the fighting spirit. He supported Nicolls’s line in wanting programmes containing more vigorous music. To this end he requested the co-operation of the BBC’s biggest band leaders Jack Payne, of whom he was a great admirer, and Geraldo. Payne, with his characteristically British band, agreed to bolster his programme with marches. Geraldo however was uncooperative. Madden wrote disparagingly of his American- style band which lacked strings but had ‘a battery of saxophones (which are moaning instruments)’. In line with the BBC’s policy of cutting out crooning wherever possible, Madden deliberately excluded Geraldo’s male singers from many programmes as well those from other bands in favour of what he termed ‘bright girls’ and was not averse to altering programmes in order to provide a more stirring and patriotic repertoire.73 The singer Vera Lynn—‘The Forces Sweetheart’—found herself caught up in the crooning and slush controversy with her programme Sincerely Yours, Vera Lynn. The programme, which linked servicemen to their families through song, became one of the most popular yet, within the BBC, most controversial of the war, because of its perception that its alleged over-sentimentality would have a negative effect on the fighting prowess of the armed services. The programme had its origins in March 1940 when Leslie Perowne was contemplating a record request programme. It was developed and produced by Howard Thomas who suggested the title and designed the format as being a letter to the Forces abroad. In Radio Times he billed the programme, ‘To the men of the Forces: a letter in words and music from Vera Lynn’ to which was added (but subsequently dropped) ‘a sentimental presentation by Howard Thomas’. In promoting the emotional optimism of the programme, Thomas proposed to announce the birth of twins or at least a new baby every programme and devised the somewhat sugary template announcement:

I wonder if Private Jack Chapman can hear me? If so, here is the news from home he has been waiting for. The twins arrived two hours ago, and Barts have told me all three are doing beautifully. You have got one of each…and I will send some flowers round for you tonight.74 140 M. DIBBS

Sincerely Yours commenced on 9 November 1941 and was broadcast between 9:30 and 10 pm on Sundays. Vera Lynn regarded herself as an intermediary between the men in the forces and their loved ones at home, singing unashamedly positive songs such as It’s A Lovely Day Tomorrow, We’ll Meet Again and The White Cliffs of Dover. Sometimes populism could be too much for the BBC and despite a postbag of up to 2,000 letters a week, the programme attracted criticism for being over-sentimental from BBC top management, sections of the armed forces high command and some listeners. Basil Nicolls, while accepting that the programme was popular with the forces, felt that ‘a general brisking up, a change of patter and the infusion, perhaps, of the less decayed Victorian ballad would satisfy the critics’.75 Harman Grisewood recalled that Sir Cecil Graves, Deputy Director-General, was concerned about the programme’s growing popularity:

Why should we hear so much of Vera Lynn? … How could men fit themselves for battle with these debilitating tunes ringing in their ears? The BBC, he pointed out, could not avoid some responsibility for making this lady popular and so for deprecating the morale of fighting men. Besides, the theme of most of these songs was sentimental sex and this mood at the best of times was not to be encouraged.76

However, A.P. Ryan, Home Advisor to the BBC, discovered from the military that morale, far from being sapped, was boosted. This caused displeasure in Broadcasting House: Grisewood continued:

The strange thing was that the morale of the men was not affected adversely at all. On the contrary. Vera Lynn seemed to cheer them up. The facts had to be faced. It was a pleasure to watch the skill with which Ryan got the “elders” to face the realities of camp life in 1940, and the tastes of the new recruits. Some might find it shocking, he agreed, but the fact was that if the BBC put a stop to Vera Lynn we would be doing harm to the troops – and in their eyes look very foolish. The evidence was in favour of, well, letting her rip, you might say. She did. It was the first defeat of many for the old guard.

Howard Thomas thought the criticism was largely due to the fact that the programme had been much imitated and he suggested a new programme ‘of the most virile kind. A man-to-man programme, which does for marches what Vera Lynn has done for the Charing Cross Road 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 141 product’.77 Thomas attempted a more stirring production, I am John Citizen (1942), a programme of marches and rousing ballads which was unpopular with the radio audience and short-lived. Both Nicolls and Thomas badly misjudged the public mood and Sincerely Yours returned for a second series from February 1943. The Brains Trust, in answering the question, ‘Is Vera Lynn’s programme harmful to morale?’, concluded, without passing an opinion on the programme, that it fulfilled a definite need. The issue of crooning would not go away and, in July 1942, an article in Radio Times entitled ‘Cleaning Up Your Dance Music’ urged music publishers and dance band leaders to cooperate with the BBC in eradicating the crooner. It emphasised that this was neither a change in BBC policy nor an attempt to dictate public taste; indeed, it was the listening public which had demanded this with evidence from:

[the BBC’s] infinite number of contacts in homes, camps, barracks and factories all over the country [and] it had learned beyond all doubt that the 1942 public as a whole finds the sempiternal sob of the crooner almost as distasteful and distressing as, say, flippant blasphemy or an indecent innuendo.78

If the public were demanding something more muscular, then the BBC, as a public servant, had a duty to act. There would now be a ban on crooning together with any dance band tunes based on themes from the classical repertoire (jazzing the classics). While the BBC felt certain that this would have public support, the music publishers felt that in the past, the BBC had promoted types of popular music which it was now condemning. The BBC met with the Music Publishers Association in August 1942 and, having decided that there was no conclusive definition of ‘slush’, agreed to set up an appeals process, although the BBC reserved the right to ultimately decide what could or could not be broadcast. Tom Harrisson of Mass-Observation was sympathetic to the detractors but did not agree with the criticism of over-sentimentality on the Forces Programme. He argued that it played a key psychological role to men in the theatre of war, writing, ‘there is a sharpness and sadness which makes the slush of Kay Cavendish or Vera Lynn infinitely moving and reassuring’.79 Bernard Buckham of the Daily Mirror remained mystified over the anti-slush campaign. For him nothing had changed ‘because the same old sentimental tosh comes over the radio with sickening regularity’.80 142 M. DIBBS

Much as it had done in the 1930s and despite the opprobrium, crooning survived the war. As with Vera Lynn, here was another example of the BBC gritting its teeth and reluctantly acceding to public demand.

The Offensive on Drink, Dirt and Foreigners The BBC believed that wartime was no excuse for slackening standards, even for the Forces Programme; censorship within the Variety Department remained strict and continued vigilance was emphasised by senior management. However, no sooner had war started than the BBC’s customary standards appeared to immediately slip. Some newspapers assumed the role of unofficial guardians of public morality and expressed concern for the sensibilities of both their readers and the radio audience. In 1939 in some of the regions, there was a perception of growing vulgarity in programmes. A BBC programme report mentioned an attack on Variety programmes: under the headline ‘Clean up war-time Variety’ and the Midland Daily Telegraph’s radio critic wrote that the Corporation should:

resist the vulgarising influence which is liable to cause the relaxing of its admirable code, and should remember that their audience “is not composed merely of music hall habitués and the so-called ‘broad minded’ but includes sensitive spinster [sic], Sunday School teachers, impressionable youths and staid fireside families”.81

The same report quoted a leader in the Birmingham Evening Dispatch which chided the BBC on its variety output:

I do not consider myself a prude. I like a fruity yarn as well as the next man, but the yarn must be told under the right conditions and in appropriate company…the BBC are sending out suggestive and worse items to all classes and conditions of people. A day or two ago, in the course of half-an-hour’s variety, there were at least four things which, in my opinion, should never have been allowed to go over the air.

Whether this media concern had any firm foundation or whether there was simply a shortage of topics to write about during the Phoney War, a gripe about the BBC filled column inches. However, the Corporation soon had two systems in place to deal with the broadcasting of ‘inappropriate’ material. ‘Security censorship’ was designed to meet the exigencies of wartime, while ‘policy censorship’ dealt with programme content. In 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 143

1940 John Watt established a regime to police what he termed ‘dirt censorship’. To comply, all Variety scripts and the running order of dance music programmes had to be submitted for approval at least 48 hours prior to their transmission. As a precautionary measure, a ‘switch censor’ was on standby for both studio and outside Variety broadcasts ready to cut off the programme should there be a deviation from an agreed script. In January 1941, with increasing reports of laxity, Watt reminded Variety producers that while it was impossible to set down absolute standards of propriety, it remained their responsibility to remove anything which might cause offence: ‘when in doubt, take it out’ became the mantra of the Department. Watt also cautioned against producer and artist collusion in trying to bypass the system and reminded producers that, as a final sanction, they could be suspended.82 Announcers were made personally responsible for the content of their programmes and for excluding vulgar, ‘doubtful’ or banned records. They were advised to check the names of composers, lyricists and artists. For guidance, programme staff were reminded of the usual suspects:

If you see a record by Max Miller, Ronald Frankau, Tommy Trinder, or any comedian who has the slightest name for risqué material, then obviously you should be on your guard and hear the record first and decide whether it is all right. You will have the full support of the Presentation Department for using your authority to suppress a doubtful record.83

If any record was deemed to be inappropriate, it was to be immediately marked ‘NTBB’—not to be broadcast. Despite their popularity, comedians such as Max Miller and George Formby irritated BBC senior management with their use of improper material. Max Miller worked mainly in the variety theatre and broadcast infrequently, largely because of the BBC’s poor fees. He was banned from broadcasting from 1944 to 1949 as a result of using unscripted offensive material. George Formby had been problematic in pre-war years and in wartime was being described as being ‘essentially vulgar and… incapable of producing anything which is not objectionable’.84 From 1937, many of his most popular songs had been assessed as unsuitable for broadcasting since his repertoire flourished on:

appalling mothers-in-law, henpecked husbands, faulty plumbing, and chara- banc rides. It was a world where births were always multiple, the birds above did everything but sing, [and] laxatives were inevitably over-active.85 144 M. DIBBS

Despite his popularity, the BBC management shuddered at the subtext of With My Little Ukulele in My Hand (1933) and With My Little Stick of Blackpool Rock (1937) and warned:

it is just possible that if these songs were delivered in a vacuum, they might be regarded as free from objectionable innuendo, but when the vacuum is filled by vocal leers from Formby and terrific roars of laughter from his audience, there can be no doubt whatever about the double entendre, and under the present policy in this matter, such songs must be regarded as objectionable.86

Formby’s appeal put the BBC in a quandary as they did not want to deprive the majority of listeners who enjoyed his music or displease those who might be offended by it.87 He was never banned from broadcasting and even his most unsuitable songs were broadcast, frequently in bowdlerised form. Indeed, the BBC, contrary to their protestations, were anxious for him to broadcast and perform songs of his choosing. Norman Collins, Director of the General Overseas Service wrote: ‘We want to use Formby … [who has] … submitted a list of songs he would like to sing: [Senior Producer C.F.] Meehan has passed them – and that’s that’.88 Here was a prime example of the BBC bypassing its own censorship rules in order to please its audience. John Watt accepted full responsibility for the output of the Department and was constantly watchful for vulgarity. He reissued Artists’ Material from the Department’s 1936 Handbook of Variety Routine to all production staff, and in 1940 he commissioned the Listener Research Department to enquire into people’s attitudes towards alleged vulgarity. The subsequent report found that two-thirds of the audience was satisfied with the BBC’s policy, while criticisms on the ground of undue laxity came from a relatively small minority.89 In January 1941 Cecil Graves, now Deputy Director-General, complained about increasing incidents of both bad taste and second-rate material being broadcast in Variety programmes. While comedians were at fault for including unscripted material, he felt that some producers lacked a sense of propriety. He was convinced that there was a real problem within the Variety Department and commented:

Watt and his people have done excellent work, but I found when I was in charge of programmes…that there was a sort of blind spot in the Director of Variety and many of his staff which made them incapable of seeing that certain things just were not suitable for broadcasting.90 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 145

Graves was unimpressed with the management of Variety and suggested reducing music hall comedy and replacing it with more dance music. His solution betrayed just how out of touch he was with the provision of broadcast light entertainment. He concluded that the only person in the BBC capable of running the Department was Percy Edgar, the Midland Regional Director. Edgar, who had little contemporary programme- making experience or recent knowledge of the entertainment industry, was, as we shall see later, subsequently commissioned by the BBC Governors to investigate and report on the output of the Variety Department. Graves also considered the possibility of applying to the RAF for the release of Charles Brewer, the pre-war Assistant Director of Variety, in order to replace John Watt. However, Watt remained in post until his resignation in July 1945. Listener Research reported on the subject of vulgarity again in February 1941 and found that radio audiences were satisfied with the standards of propriety in programmes. Graves refused to deviate from his determination to clean-up Variety, though with the Department’s huge output there would be inevitable lapses, often with consequences for the miscreant. In November 1941, for example, on Basil Nicolls’ instructions, John Sharman, one of the Department’s most experienced producers, was transferred to lesser production duties following an earlier (and further) ‘slip’ in his Music Hall programme. In Sharman’s defence John Watt claimed that the producer had been badly let down by the artist although Nicholls remained unimpressed. As the war progressed, the list of proscribed topics gradually length- ened in response to directives or complaints or sometimes without any explanation. A list from 1942 decreed that Stalin’s name was to be pre- fixed by ‘Monsieur’ or ‘Premier’. Escape and spy stories could not be mentioned, recipes had to be referred to Head Office and the words ‘crooner’ and ‘compère’ were banned.91 References to Goering’s stomach were deemed to be ‘undesirable’, and the use of the term ‘Nazi’ was to be avoided when it referred to Nazi aeroplanes or Nazi artillery although it could be used to avoid the constant repetition of the words ‘German’ or ‘enemy’. The terms ‘Reds’ and ‘Bolsheviks’ were only to be used when speaking of the historical past although ‘Red Army’ was acceptable.92 The British army was to be presented as a modern, efficient fighting force and references to ‘“Blimp” colonels, alcoholic majors, languid subalterns and troops who drop their aitches and speak in some form of hybrid cockney dialect…’ were all to be avoided.93 When complaints were received from 146 M. DIBBS the MoI concerning the terms ‘bloody’ and ‘what the hell’ in programmes, Basil Nicolls replied in an ambiguous fashion that some programmes were considered to be sufficiently important ‘to justify some fairly rough language in the interviews with workers and other people whose natural way of speaking is rough’. ‘Bloody’ was permitted in documentaries and drama where the circumstances justified its use. ‘Hell’ was generally to be cut out ‘except where the context seems to justify leaving it in’.94 At a producers’ meeting of October 1943 where the need to banish innuendo from scripts was discussed, Howard Thomas suggested that a code be drawn up setting out the material which could not be broadcast. This could be submitted to the Variety Artists’ Federation and Equity for agreement with the BBC and also published in trade journals so that everyone would be aware of the restrictions. While this met with the meeting’s approval, there is no evidence to suggest that anything actually happened until the BBC published its own internal code for Variety producers in 1948. As the circumstances of war brought people together, it became necessary to apply a certain degree of sensitivity to programming, partly to sustain morale on both sides of the Atlantic and partly to prevent anti- Americanism from taking hold in Britain. Accordingly, in scripts and popular songs for overseas transmissions, John Watt warned his producers that there was to be:

no mention of troops from Overseas in Britain “stealing” or “borrowing” English girls…Conversely, when a broadcast is directed at the North American Service, for instance, avoid any suggestion of British girls “stealing” American boys.95

Reference to servicemen’s leave had to be treated sensitively, and suggestions that people at home were enjoying the high life were to be avoided. There was to be no mention of air raids as this could cause unnecessary alarm among the troops overseas. There was also tentative movement towards issues of ethnicity. In January 1942, a directive regarding prohibitions for the Pacific and Far Eastern Services was issued in order to avoid affronting Britain’s allies. Australia and New Zealand were not to be spoken of as colonies, and the Australian accent could not be mentioned. While programme makers could freely refer to Maoris, they were warned to ‘say little more of Aborigines other than they are people living in the stone-age’. In the Far Eastern Service, Muslim and Islam had to be referred to instead of 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 147

Mohammedan and Mohammedanism respectively; Thai and Thailand were to be used and not Siamese and Siam; describing the Japanese as ‘Japs’ could cause them great annoyance.96 Later that year, further advice was issued. Included was the avoidance of references to ‘Chinamen’ (they were ‘Chinese’) and ‘coolie’, ‘rickshaw’ and ‘rickshaw puller’. Music hall jokes about the Chinese were to be avoided, while reference to the ‘Mysteries of the East’ was deemed to be unhelpful.97 The terms ‘Blacks’, ‘Niggers’ and ‘Natives’ were all to be avoided, but in 1942, the BBC received a letter of complaint from the University of Edinburgh Union regarding references to people of colour in these exact terms in a radio programme. The BBC apologised for using the phrase ‘working like a nigger’ in a Music Hall programme, but its use in folk songs was defended:

I think it may be fairly claimed that the unsophisticated pathos of many of these songs have helped to win the sympathy of other races for the coloured people’s struggle for individual liberty… none of the specific examples quoted in your letter was conceived here as being in any way insulting to coloured people, but we shall certainly continue to be watchful to ensure that none is used that could give offence.98

The BBC would continue to struggle in its approach to ethnicities after the war and beyond. Alcohol continued to come under scrutiny from both the listening public and teetotal organisations. In January 1940 the United Kingdom Alliance expressed concern about the mention of drink in relation to the armed forces. The Corporation gave due consideration to all protests, and by 1942, with its policy on alcohol now better defined, normal life now could be represented in programmes, and robustly defended its position:

The policy is conditioned by such factors as the need to meet the legitimate public demand for programmes reflecting the various sides of the world of public entertainment; the fact that the exclusion of all references to drink is liable to destroy performers’ normal stock-in-trade; the grounds of artistic verisimilitude; and the fact that the BBC seeks to represent all aspects of life, and drinking must be recognised as playing a definite part in our social organisation.99

Basil Nicolls, having received complaints largely about references to drink in Variety programmes and Children’s Hour, was sympathetic to the programme makers and, while hinting at policy relaxation, reminded them: 148 M. DIBBS

Our policy is to allow a normal amount of ordinary gags about drink and reference to it, without overdoing it or linking it with important matters like road safety (“One for the Road” is therefore inadmissible).100

In spite of continuing protests, Nicolls remained largely supportive of output departments and their difficulties. The Corporation was careful to maintain a balance in its treatment of alcohol: it was adamant that it had to remain independent in the public debate on drinking while at the same time taking care to keep references to drink within reasonable limits. While its policy was subject to periodic review, all staff were frequently reminded of their responsibilities in this area. Occasionally, sympathy with the Variety Department from elsewhere in the organisation appeared to override policy on vulgarity. In October 1942, Seymour de Lotbinière, newly appointed Director of Empire Programmes, having advocated the eradication of ‘off colour’ jokes, that is, those ‘associated in some way or other with sex, obstetrics or the lavatory’, immediately performed a volte-face.101 With the shortage of clean jokes, total elimination would ‘reduce very considerably our resources [and] lose many opportunities for good, legitimate laughs’. While producers would normally use rule of thumb to decide what was an ‘off colour’ joke, in the case of ‘borderline’ jokes, that is, those deemed to cause offence to a family audience, the Director suggested, ‘the more subtle and original the “off colour” joke, the more the humour of the joke tends to overcome the possibility of the average listener’s embarrassment’. However, a fortnight later, de Lotbinière had been brought into line and, previously having differentiated between the more accepting British audiences and the discerning overseas audience, now expected a common standard of propriety:

When I wrote that memo I had in mind the average man and his wife in this country…I realise now that we must aim higher than this, since our advice is that audiences overseas have a higher standard than British audiences, and in particular the United States audience has the highest standard of all…Our policy is not to relax our standard in favour of one audience at the expense of another and stricter audience, who may be sharing the same programme.102

Transatlantic Assistance and Co-operation In 1940 the BBC established its North American Service to describe the reality of war in Europe to America. It wished to dispel widespread American isolationist opinion and the portrayal in American newspapers of 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 149 the hopelessness of Britain’s situation. From the beginning of 1942 when American troops began arriving in Britain, radio light entertainment was exposed to the most sustained period of American influence to date. This was assisted by the BBC’s co-operation with American broadcasting companies and the armed forces. To remain essentially British yet appeal to North American tastes, Ernest Bushnell of the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation was seconded to the BBC to help with the operation of the North American Service. The changes made included much shorter programmes and precise timings. Two American broadcasters were also based in Broadcasting House to ensure the aptness of any programme for America. With co-operation from the four largest American networks, the BBC’s short-wave transmissions reached North American audiences through rebroadcasting on local and national networks. In 1942, for example, items from the North American Service were rebroadcast by 285 American stations for 347 hours a week.103 By 1943 it was broadcasting for nine-and-a-half hours daily and received praise from both the American press and listeners.104 The Variety Department provided many programmes for both America and other countries. These were administered separately by the Overseas Entertainment Unit under Cecil Madden who became known as the ‘GI’s Friend’ through his presentation of the programme American Eagle in Britain (1940–45). There were also some highly successful programmes made by American artists who chose to stay in Britain during the war. The most notable was the successful Hi Gang! (1940–43 and 1949) which was written by, and starred, Vic Oliver and the husband and wife team of Bebe Daniels and Ben Lyon and based on their daily family life. Madden was enthusiastic about the show which ran continuously for 128 editions, describing them as ‘quite the best and brightest shows put out by the BBC’s Variety [Department] for a long time’.105 However, in a bid to provide a much-needed creative stimulus and reju- venate a jaded Department, John Watt sent his deputy, Pat Hillyard, to America in 1942 to recruit American stars and scriptwriters. Hillyard, who was familiar with the American show business industry and who had contacts within the CBS and NBC networks, subsequently signed scriptwriter Hal Block who introduced other American artists to British radio audiences. Hillyard was also able to obtain American recorded programmes which were broadcast with the advertisements removed. Through these programmes, artists such as Bob Hope, Jack Benny and Bing Crosby became favourites of British audiences. While Hillyard’s 150 M. DIBBS success provided a much-needed shot in the arm for the Department, it also increased the American influence on BBC programmes. The increased number of imported American radio programmes and American dance and popular music was enjoyed not only by American troops stationed in Britain but also the listening public at home and the armed forces abroad. Valeria Camporesi has suggested that there was a need to establish America as a benevolent country and to emphasise the Anglo-American partnership as reasons for the greater inclusion of American material in the BBC’s output at this time.106 When recordings of top American entertainment programmes began to be broadcast in Britain, American artists were dispatched through the American United Services Organisation, and many went on to broadcast for the BBC. The Variety Department played its part and commissioned James Dyrenforth, an American actor and songwriter, to script and produce Let’s Get Acquainted a programme designed to help promote Anglo-American friendship. This featured top American and British artists and included talks by journalists and statesmen from both sides of the Atlantic.107 Despite initial reluctance, not least because it would break their monopoly, the BBC was persuaded by the MoI and Churchill to cooperate with the American armed services to establish two further outlets for their radio programmes in Britain, the American Forces Network (AFN) and the Allied Expeditionary Forces Programme (AEFP).108 The AFN was established in Britain in July 1943 to bring American radio to American forces stationed in Britain both as a morale booster and also to provide them with programmes more in keeping with those they were used to at home. These were unusual times and the BBC announced somewhat disingenu- ously that they ‘readily co-operated’ by providing studio facilities, technical assistance and help with transmissions—although it was under duress from the government. The BBC observed, ‘the new service meant, for the duration, a departure from the principles on which it has always operated’.109 The programmes, while only heard by an estimated ten per cent of British civilian audiences, were largely recordings of American comedy and dance band shows from which the advertisements had been removed, as well as the most popular programmes from the Forces Programme. The AFN was described by Maurice Gorham as being:

The ideal programme for British teen-agers…it consisted [largely] of all the top-ranking band and comedy shows that American commercial radio could supply. The AFN thus brought listeners the best entertainment picked from 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 151

four competing networks… and practically free from serious items except for the news; in fact a more or less continuous procession of swing music and gag shows.110

The AEFP was created to bring American, British and Canadian forces closer together. It commenced broadcasting on D-Day and was initially resisted by the BBC. Threatened with requisition of its facilities by the government, the BBC eventually co-operated with the AFN and Canadian Broadcasting Corporation and administered it through the BBC Overseas Service. Programmes were provided from the three participating broadcasting organisations roughly in proportion to their respective troop numbers, that is, 50 per cent American, 35 per cent British and 15 per cent Canadian. Things did not always go smoothly between the partners, particularly in maintaining the programme balance, but Maurice Gorham, the AEFP’s British director, recalled that inter-allied co-operation worked well in its own way. The AEFP led to an increase in the amount of American light entertainment and popular music on radio potentially available to the listening public. As few American swing music programmes were broadcast on either the Home Service or Forces Programme, this was regarded in some quarters as a deliberate move by the BBC to make it more difficult for the listening public to access this music as well as a step towards a return to anti-Americanisation.111 However, mutual regard and optimism for the future was expressed publicly through BBC Handbooks and Year Books which emphasised the co-operation and friendship between the BBC and its American radio partners. Sir Cecil Graves, by now Joint Director-General, wrote positively of Anglo-American co-operation in the wake of his trip to North America in 1942. Despite holding robust views on encroaching Americanisation of BBC light entertainment during the 1930s, he assured American broadcasters that the BBC would do its utmost to provide suitable radio entertainment for the increasing numbers of American servicemen in Britain.112 Before the war’s end, complaints began to surface within the BBC about a surfeit of Americanisation within its light entertainment output. In December 1943, the General Overseas Manager expressed disquiet:

It seems to me wrong that we should rely exclusively on the Americans for scripts, production, ideas and artists. There may be a dearth of English talent…but I think it would be disastrous if the BBC…accepted the position that only by becoming American we can compete with the Americans.113 152 M. DIBBS

In June 1944, William Haley, the recently appointed Director-General of the BBC, reminded all Controllers of the need to be vigilant in respect of the inappropriate use of Americanisms and American slang. Six months later he seemed to be echoing some of the thoughts of Gerald Cock 15 years earlier when he expressed concern about the effect American entertainment was having on British culture. While recognising that the war had brought with it a steady influx of American entertainment to British broadcasting which had been appreciated, it was now time for a change. What was particularly unwelcome was the residual effects of the war—the ersatz American entertainment produced by Britain, the unnecessary use of American slang and crooning in false American accents. With the end of the war in sight, he advocated ‘a steady, friendly resistance to foreign influences and particularly to the Americanisation of our programmes’.114 By 1944, the appearance of new British artists such as Kenneth Horne, Charlie Chester and Eric Barker began to redress the balance.115 At the end of the war, a free offer of the new Jack Benny series was refused. Maurice Gorham suggested that the BBC could have continued to use this pre-recorded material, but, with the likelihood of the return of commercial stations after the war, these programmes were dropped leaving a gap in the schedules of a by now war-weary Variety Department.116 What was now vitally important was a return to programmes which were wholly British in character and culture. As will be seen in the next chapter, anti-Americanism within the BBC would continue into the mid-1950s.

An In-House Assessment In July 1943, as a result of the Variety Department’s difficulty in maintaining programme standards, the BBC Governors commissioned Percy Edgar, the Midland Region Director, to produce a confidential report into its output which on completion he described as being ‘professional, dis- passionate and frank’.117 No one, apart from John Watt, had been in the unique position of having to produce populist radio programmes under wartime conditions in order to entertain a nation and sustain its morale. Watt understood more than anyone the difficulties involved in such a responsibility. By contrast, Edgar was an administrator, not a programme maker, whose last direct involvement with entertainment had been over 20 years before, organising concerts for military hospitals rather than working in mainstream professional entertainment. 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 153

Edgar listened to a selection of Variety programmes for a period of 14 weeks (165 hours) largely on his own but occasionally in factory canteens, military camps and homes in order to gauge the opinions of others. He was ‘appalled’ at the second- or third-rate standard of much of the Department’s output and felt that its aspirations should be of the highest order. He was critical of failing series which were being allowed to continue, was convinced that there were countless fledgling artists waiting to be discovered and accused the Department of misusing top artists. He recognised the wartime difficulties of engaging artists who might be on active service or who were represented by agents who either demanded exorbitant fees or refused to allow their artists to broadcast. He criticised the BBC’s over-reliance on the same artists, particularly those created by the BBC. He viewed with disquiet the manner in which Listener Research figures were used, suggesting that programmes were produced to boost ratings rather than to improve quality of entertainment and also that rights for successful radio programmes were potentially a subject of acquisition by speculative film-makers and music hall managements. Edgar referred to rumours within show business of corruption being commonplace among BBC producers for obtaining broadcasts for band leaders and artists, for ‘song plugging’ and for building shows in order to sell them on to impresarios such as Jack Hylton with the intention of tour- ing them around the music halls under their radio titles in order to make vast profit. He wrote:

Such rumours are unpleasant to hear, but I know from my own experience that they are common among the profession in music hall and theatre bars and theatrical clubs…[and]…may be due to the ill-intentioned chatter of the less successful artists who have perhaps not been successful in their efforts to obtain broadcast dates…and I have been ashamed to hear artists discussing with the manager of a local music hall this willingness of some members of the Variety Department to participate in graft.

He was also irritated by the publicity given to members of the Variety Department by artists in their radio programmes which he referred to as a ‘backslapping mutual admiration society’. He identified what he considered to be the shortcomings of some of the most popular programmes of the time. Music Hall often comprised one ‘good artist’ with the remainder being ‘also-rans’. Happidrome’s regular artists had poor material. Works Wonders (an amateur show in which professionals did not appear) was 154 M. DIBBS continually using substandard artists, and Northern Music Hall fell very much below BBC standards. He suggested that some of the ‘irritating’ characters in the popular Monday Night at Eight be dropped. ITMA, Bandstand and some of the variety programmes provided by the services through outside broadcasts were among the few to gain a bouquet from Edgar. With the exceptions of Max Kester and Ted Kavanagh (ITMA), he criticised the quality of Variety scriptwriting as being ‘childish prep-school stuff’. In concluding his report, Edgar suggested that after the war there could be strong support for the return of commercial radio bolstered by the BBC’s past poor quality variety output. Watt’s response was swift, robust and rational. He strongly defended his department, his staff and their achievements under extremely difficult conditions.118 He said that the report appeared to be based on rumour, hearsay, speculation and personal opinion which demonstrated not only how disconnected Edgar was from the modern entertainment industry, but also how little he understood about the functioning of and continual problems facing the Variety Department. He was also particularly concerned about the report’s continual subtext of ‘graft’ and ‘sinister motives’, which he believed to be groundless and lacking evidence. He considered that Edgar’s report demonstrated his ignorance of the workings of both the entertainment industry and the BBC. Edgar included criticism of non- Variety programmes and had overlooked dance music, cinema organ programmes and much of the Department’s most popular output. There was neither appraisal of the work of the Department nor of its objectives or whether they were met, and Watt argued that Edgar’s criticisms were based on personal opinion, unsupported by any hard evidence and he questioned the standards used for comparative purposes. Despite the constraints of wartime, Watt considered that the standard of production had largely been maintained particularly in the Department’s prime shows. He believed that it was fantasy to suppose that there were hordes of artists and writers around the country, capable of success and waiting to be discovered for radio and he restated that many music hall artists, for example, were unable to make the transition into broadcasting. While he agreed that there were difficulties obtaining artists in wartime, it was also impossible not to use those represented by agents. He also made the point that the only way to hire some artists was on a weekly basis at their theatre salary which was why they might appear on radio on multiple occasions during a week. Watt thought that this was perfectly acceptable provided that alternative material was used and that the programme had a 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 155 different audience. The suggestion of cancelling failing series was problematic. There were contractual considerations for artists who would have to be paid regardless and there was the distinct possibility of legal action for loss of reputation. Furthermore, the BBC might be viewed by the public as being unreliable if cancellations became widespread. Few new shows were immediately successful, and Watt suggested that the strongest reason for persevering with those which had a fundamentally good idea was that the majority took time to arrive at a successful formula. They needed to establish themselves in the mind of the radio audience even though during this ‘bedding-in’ period all mistakes were made in full view of the public. He cited Band Waggon and ITMA as prime examples whose initial broadcasts were poor. While it would be ideal for the BBC to have first call on an artist’s services, particularly those for whom the BBC had contributed to their success, financially the Corporation could not afford to have them permanently contracted. While Edgar implied that Listener Research should be abandoned or ignored, Watt had grasped its significance as an indication of public taste and was forthright about its use:

Listener Research is our sole guide to the popularity of the programme. It is, and was, intended to be the equivalent of a non-commercial box office, and it is highly desirable that we should know and make use of this fact. The facts produced by Listener Research generally bear out the conclusions of professional judgment and experience which is not to be found in personal predilections.

He urged caution when listening to people’s opinions in pubs and canteens as it only reflected a personal viewpoint and he suggested that it was better to acknowledge the findings of Listener Research which were statis- tically based and covered the whole country. Watt flatly denied charges of corruption insisting that, to his knowledge, no producer had ever accepted a bribe or was ever likely to, but he did acknowledge the intractable problem of song plugging between band leaders and music publishers. In relation to radio shows transferring to the stage, he pointed out that no management would pay the BBC for the rights to such a show unless it was successful. He emphasised that the producer would gain nothing from such an arrangement apart from the kudos of having made a success of the programme, together with a relatively small ex gratia payment from the BBC. Watt was under no illusion 156 M. DIBBS about the value of scriptwriters to programmes and shared Edgar’s concern in this area. Good writers tended to write for the press, cinema or the theatre as it was impossible to make a living from writing exclusively for radio due to the BBC’s poor rates of pay. He said that the BBC was now reaping the reward of past inadequate remuneration of scriptwriters. However, where quality writers could be found and were prepared to write for the BBC, they should be compensated accordingly. Watt freely admitted that, while working from the isolation of Bangor, Variety’s lack of resources and difficulties had been magnified by the war and that consequently its output standards had fallen. However, with the ongoing move back to London, the situation was improving. Watt agreed with Edgar on the function of radio as a morale booster and the role of the Variety Department in the war effort of providing high-quality entertainment programmes, but he made the point that it was not only money which was needed to develop and produce shows but the inventiveness and inspiration of writers and producers. Watt thought that after the war people would be demanding quality entertainment as they had done pre- war and maintaining the high standard would be problematic for Variety. He predicted a boom in the entertainment industry and knew that George Black intended to end his rapprochement with the BBC. Watt felt that at that moment, the BBC needed to be making plans for contracting artists and writers exclusively for post-war radio variety. Another severe critic of Edgar’s report was John Coatman, the Northern Regional Director, particularly in connection with his Region’s programmes Works Wonders and Northern Music Hall. He resolutely repudi- ated Edgar’s comments which he supported with hard evidence. He stated that Edgar:

had not understood the character or object of Works Wonders…the whole point of it is that it is entertainment for workers by workers, and its primary object is the maintenance of morale.119

Coatman dismissed Edgar’s reference to ‘second and third-rate performers’ of whom ‘every act has, without exception, been engaged, or at present holds contractual agreements to appear in BBC productions’. He also thought that Edgar was completely unaware of the problems with impresario George Black, who had a policy of heavily restricted broadcasting from his theatres. Coatman proved Northern Music Hall’s popularity by using Listener Research figures which averaged 25.42 per cent audiences 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 157 for the period April to July 1943. In conclusion he raised concerns about Edgar’s report being submitted to the BBC Board and the danger that policy decisions might be taken based on factually inaccurate and mislead- ing information. Basil Nicolls, like Percy Edgar, was an ‘old school’ senior manager and, as we have seen, a frequent critic of Variety output. However, he was well aware of the problems the Department faced and was supportive as he could be, writing:

Our Variety output might be much better, but the true picture is of a clever, loyal and hard-working staff, producing programmes under unprecedented difficulties caused by dispersion, competition, the hostility of the outside managements, the bad influence on taste of the music hall itself and of ENSA, and the continual loss of staff and artists through the exigencies of the war.120

As Senior Controller at the BBC, Nicolls’ opinions would have carried a great deal of weight with the governors who were far removed from the day-to-day difficulties faced by an output department who had to entertain the nation every day. Consequently, nothing more was heard of the report from either the Governors or Edgar and there the matter seemed to rest.

Post-War Plans Planning for the shape of broadcasting in peacetime began in March 1943. In the earliest discussion documents, it was assumed that the BBC would continue to have a monopoly of broadcasting in Britain and be funded through a licencing system. Sound broadcasting was to be maintained at the highest professional level, and television, still considered to be at a semi-experimental stage, would resume and continue to be developed. It was also expected that commercial radio broadcasting from continental Europe would recommence and, while much of the audience for the Forces Programme and its successors had listened to Radio Luxembourg pre-war, it was imperative that the BBC retain this audience. Some within the higher echelons of the Corporation accepted that in the event of a shortfall in licence revenue, sponsorship would be preferred to a government subsidy with its implications of an element of government control.121 158 M. DIBBS

In a confidential memo of August 1943, Kenneth Adam, then the BBC’s Head of Publicity outlined the notion of three separate networks to meet the diverse needs of the post-war radio audience. These networks would be focused around populism, pluralism and high culture, although there would be a certain amount of overlap between them. This tripartite system was endorsed by the BBC Board who resolved that the proposed networks would be available as soon as possible following the end of the war in Europe. They were designated Programmes ‘A’, ‘B’ and ‘C’ until suitable names were decided, and the broad function and content of each was set out by Basil Nicolls. The purpose of Programme ‘A’, later designated the Home Service, was aspirational and would:

offer the solid middle body of listeners a comprehensive balanced programme catering for all tastes…The cultural standard… should be as high as is consistent with not losing its solid middle-brow audience, and should tend upwards.122

With the anticipated return of commercial radio, the BBC intended to meet the competition with Programme ‘B’ which would become the Light Programme. He described its function as being:

A popular (but not rubbishy) programme for the masses, designed to be effective in competition with neighbouring sponsored stations. Its chief aims and criterion should not be mass listening or background listening, although it should provide plenty of first-class light music and dance music… It will contain thrillers, plenty of sport, Variety, and O.B.s of entertainment, and some judicious popularisation of music.

This network would have its origins in the Forces Programme which, from 27 February 1944, was dropped while the General Overseas Service (GOS)—the BBC’s third network for the armed services’ overseas which had begun in January 1943—was renamed the General Forces Programme (GFP).123 The GFP was now not only the network for the forces overseas but also the alternative programme for home listeners. While continuing to carry the most popular programmes, that is, Brains Trust, ITMA and Music While You Work, it did not prove so popular with the public achieving only 40 per cent of civilian listening against 60 per cent for the Home Service. Gorham suggests that this was because the network was largely restricted to broadcasting programmes which were made specifically to be 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 159 listened in barracks, canteens and billets which required far less attentive listening than those of a home audience.124 Programme ‘C’, subsequently the Third Programme, was to be ‘an intelligent alternative during peak hours, to Programme ‘A’…producing the best possible programmes of all the Arts amenable to broadcasting’. There were rumblings about Sunday policy in which Sunday programmes would apply to Programme ‘A’ and to a limited extent Programme ‘B’ where ‘dance music per se might be (but probably should not) considered desirable on Sunday evenings’.125 Across all networks, programmes were to be essentially British in character, appeal to a wide cross-section of tastes, be of the highest possible quality and, with a nod in the direction of Reithianism, have the long-term objective of raising the audience’s tastes and education. The three networks were designed to be complementary and were separated into low-, medium- and highbrow. While there would be a certain amount of commonality between the Light Programme and Home Service, both would have a degree of high cultural input which, it was hoped, would encourage the audience to improve themselves and gradually move upwards through the networks towards ‘better’ listening. William Haley, the incoming Director-General, was a disciple of Reith and while abandoning the Reithian tenet of providing something for everyone within one network would later describe the linkage between the three networks as a ‘Pyramid of Taste’ or ‘Pyramid of Culture’. With a choice of three networks, listeners would have the option of bettering themselves if they wished, but in their own time and at their own speed. In May 1945 B.E. Nicolls, now Senior Controller, produced a paper for the BBC Board on the subject of new talent.126 This was wholly concerned with the Variety Department, written by an administrator rather than an entertainment professional, and was largely rooted in the BBC’s pre-war experience of dealing with the entertainment industry. Nicolls recalled the relative lack of success of the BBC’s audition system as well as the pre-war radio talent shows of the 1930s. While there was a possibility of resurrect- ing Eric Maschwitz’s idea of a BBC talent school, there was no new thinking from Nicolls, particularly as he considered that most new talent would be sourced from the music hall and variety theatre, both now forms of entertainment in terminal decline. He predicted disloyalty among artists whose careers had been developed as a result of radio exposure, but his comments indicated that he was out of touch with the reality of the contemporary entertainment business: 160 M. DIBBS

Most artists are, of course, on the look-out for every possible opportunity of putting up their fees against the BBC, even though they owe their careers to us, but there are very few who out of a sense of gratitude continue to accept the old BBC fee when they are earning many hundreds a week on the Music Hall stage. Anne Shelton, for instance still accepts thirty guineas from the BBC as against £400 a week on the Halls.

He saw producers as being the prime means of sourcing new talent and that a return to peace would release proven and potential artists to the BBC who were currently serving with the armed forces. Nicolls wanted to avoid the problems of the pre-war years in which artists’ managements could contractually prevent their clientele from broadcasting. He was also keen to secure artists’ services exclusively in order to have the option of preventing them working for commercial radio. Paying artists a retainer to have first call on their services was financially unsustainable, but he warmed to Watt’s suggestion of contracting artists exclusively at a fee based on their average earnings over a period. Variety could use them for broadcasts, either leasing the artists to impresarios or granting them leave without pay for a period to undertake outside engagements. This would effectively make the BBC a variety agent. For this option he estimated that the annual cost to the BBC would be somewhere between £750,000 and £1,000,000, a prohibitively high percentage of the BBC’s total income in 1945 of £8.3 million. Nicolls advised darkly that secrecy would be essential in setting this up because ‘if any inkling of this reached the press or the entertainment professionals, the latter would attempt to forestall us’. Whether his ideas were fanciful or there was ever any serious intent is not known: his thoughts were destined to be stillborn. What was not envisaged was that an important crop of artists, untainted by the practices of the entertainment industry of the past, would be thrown up by the war. This, together with the development of the radio comedy series and an emerging new generation of scriptwriters, would be the key to the success of the post-war Variety Department. With broadcasting set to change radi- cally after the war, the Department would play an important role in shaping the output of two of the three post-war radio networks. John Watt’s thoughts on the direction of the post-war Variety Department were set out in December 1944.127 He considered that Variety would need to supply the future Home Service with four programmes a week, plus one ‘ad hoc’ and two ‘subsidiary’ programmes. He envisaged the new Light Programme as being similar to the original Forces 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 161

Programme with Variety still providing the majority of programmes. These he thought would comprise one ‘slap-up’ show per night in the mid- evening period, one subsidiary show and two programmes in the afternoon to be used as a nursery to trial programmes which, if successful, could be elevated to evening slots. Dance music, for which he thought there was currently insufficient provision, would double. Watt was keen that the future Light Programme should be as different from wartime broadcasting as possible. This required many new ideas alongside old ideas ‘dressed up to look different’. The success of a post-war Variety Department, capable of providing high-quality programmes to an expectant radio audience coming out of six years of war, would be predicated on solving the permanent problem of sourcing new scriptwriters, producers and stars. In terms of scriptwriting, Watt suggested the establishment of a script section within Variety to which writers and budding producers would be attached in order to develop ideas and to adapt material from other media to radio. This was an idea which would later be taken up by Watt’s successor. One novel attempt at finding writers involved a competition in Radio Times during February and March 1945 which offered a weekly prize of £25 to write a 600–650 word script around various radio stars including Arthur Askey, Tommy Handley and Jack Warner for Monday Night at Eight. While the BBC had expected 200–300 entries, its popularity exceeded all expectations and a headline in the London Evening News read, ‘16,000 People Write 10,400,000 words – for £25’. Watt knew that it was essential to retain successful producers, particularly those who had come from commercial radio and to attract new recruits. The job needed to be made more attractive and producers needed to be paid fairly, commensurate with their worth. Experienced producers serving in the forces would need to be recalled as soon as possible in order to have a core of experienced staff ready to begin work on new programmes. Ideally, production needed to be organised in units in which each producer would have two junior assistants, a programme and junior engineer together with two writers, with each team capable of working on up to three programmes a week. He also considered that the competition for artists and their readiness to broadcast could be problematic. Two post-war unknowns were the unpredictability of the attitude of theatre managers and the likely resurgence of commercial radio and television. The choice seemed to be either between contracting large numbers of 162 M. DIBBS radio personalities or continuing with the BBC’s standard procedure of engaging performers as required.

Departures and Arrivals It turned out that it would not be Watt who would be planning and leading Variety into the post-war world for he resigned as Director of Variety in July 1945 and signed off his final memo:

In actual point of fact I shall be knocking around and holding Jack Inglis’s [the Acting Director of Variety] hand up until 10 August, but shall not be signing anything. (AVE ATQUE VALE)128

Although his exact reasons for leaving the BBC are not known, the BBC Year Book 1946 noted somewhat vaguely that he had resigned in order to ‘enter the worlds of journalism and entertainment’ but was generous in acknowledgement of his contribution to the Department:

Mr. Watt’s unsparing efforts in piloting the department successfully through the appalling difficulties of the war years, with their almost insuperable problems of dispersal, shortage of labour, and ‘enemy action’, were a magnificent achievement, and British listeners owe him much.129

However, his departure may have been brought about by a disagreement with Senior Controller Basil Nicolls as indicated by Watt’s biogra- pher, his wife novelist Angela Jeans who wrote:

In an interview with the Evening News at that time, John said: “I am going because I have had about enough of it. I have got to the top position in the radio variety business in this country, and having done that – having reached a dead end, so to speak – I think it is time to make a change” … Although John maintained that he left the BBC on friendly terms, “with”, he said, “the best feelings on both sides” there was no doubt that a dispute did occur between himself and the Senior Controller – Sir Basil Nicolls. It was, however, something he would never discuss.130

John Watt continued to work for the BBC on a freelance basis. One of his earliest post-resignation broadcasts was Variety Cavalcade 1939–1945, a seven-part series broadcast on the Home Service between February and March 1946 which recalled the work of the Variety Department during 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 163 wartime. He continued to present radio programmes such as Songs from the Shows and Housewives’ Choice and was the castaway on Desert Island Discs on 3 December 1956. He died in 1960. Watt was succeeded by Michael Standing the former Head of Outside Broadcasts. Whereas Watt had been a showman, producer and writer, Standing was described by Barry Took as ‘more a thinker than a doer’. He was the son of the actor Sir Guy Standing and had joined the BBC as an announcer from a career in merchant banking. While in Outside Broadcasts he had experience with live Variety broadcasts and although not a programme maker, he was known to some listeners, having had his own feature entitled ‘Standing on the Corner’ within the programme In Town Tonight, where he randomly interviewed people in the street about current topics. This idea was extended during the war when he presented Standing in the Shelter in which he visited air raid shelters in order to gain a general impression of the situation from those sheltering from the bombs. Subsequently he became a war reporter. He was well respected within the BBC as being a highly competent manager and administrator and, while sensitive to the importance of Departmental problems, balanced his often-conflicting loyalties to management with those of the wider interests of the BBC.

Conclusion During the war, the Variety Department played a unique role. As its Head, John Watt was charged with entertaining the nation while having to nego- tiate not only the restrictions often imposed quite arbitrarily by the BBC and MoI but also the problems of disruption to the day-to-day operation of Variety caused by its evacuation to Bristol and later to North Wales. Despite these difficulties, Variety made a substantial contribution to raising and sustaining morale for those at home and the armed services overseas through the provision of popular entertainment. Arguably the biggest break with the past was the establishment of the Forces Programme. Pre-war, the BBC’s audience had been served by the National Programme with some regional input, with all tastes being provided for on a single network. While the Forces Programme—with its programming largely undertaken by the Variety Department—was primarily intended for the BEF in France, it quickly attracted the majority of the adult home radio audience. With an increased choice of listening, Reith’s model of broadcasting had changed; cultural uplift was displaced 164 M. DIBBS by a programme policy which was more populist in approach and provided on more than one network. The BBC’s Sunday policy which had been sacrosanct before the war was partially abandoned following its arrival, although still visible on the Home Service. The issues which seemed to pre-occupy BBC senior management and were seen as a potential threat to British culture were generally accommodated—sometimes through grit- ted teeth—and even the help of America was enlisted to provide programme recordings and engage writers to prop up a flagging Variety Department. However, concern among BBC senior management for the Americanisation of BBC programmes was never far from the surface and became more noticeable as victory came closer. The BBC generally shaped popular taste during the war, but its work was frequently made more difficult by senior management for whom populism was, on occasion, a bridge too far. Frequently Variety found the correct formula after constant tweaking of the format with programmes such as ITMA and the unlikely success of the Brains Trust which united lowbrow and highbrow tastes. Some programmes were also sufficiently popular to continue beyond the war and into the 1960s. While some slight relaxation of standards might reasonably have been expected, the BBC seemed to redouble its efforts to save the nation embarrassment. Popular songs continued to be subject to censorship if considered unsuitable on grounds of title or subject matter. The restrictions on jazz broadcasts were relaxed, and crooning, abhorred by senior management on the grounds of sentimentality and unmanliness, survived the attempted bans. Commercial radio had been temporarily silenced, but it was recognised that the BBC needed to be ready for its expected post- war return. Broadcasting was irreversibly changed by the war, and public opinion would not allow this to be reversed, particularly after six years of sacrifice. War hastened the consolidation of changes which had begun in the 1930s: the programme series format was extended and developed and fixed-point programming helped shape the population’s day in to order to increase wartime output. Watt aptly summed up the achievements of the wartime Variety Department131:

We’ve put on our dance bands to the crash of bombs. We’ve played by the light of hurricane lamps when electricity had been knocked for six. Many favourite artists have been in the Forces. We’ve played in camps, in factories, in parish halls. Yet, how often the people’s need for the fresh air of laughter, has given new heart to the show: and, often, I hope, the show has given new heart to the people. 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 165

Notes 1. Asa Briggs, The History of Broadcasting in the United Kingdom Vol. III The War of Words 1939–1945 (revised edition), Oxford, 1995, 87. 2. The BBC television service ended abruptly on 1 September 1939 with the Mickey Mouse cartoon, Mickey’s Gala Première. The service did not resume until 7 June 1946. 3. BBC Handbook 1955, London, 1954, 159. The BBC Handbook 1940 gives a slightly higher figure for 1939 although there is a slight variation between both sets of licence figures in both Handbooks. 4. Radio Times 831A, 4 September 1939, 6–7. Radio Times is hereafter abbreviated to RT. 5. Sandy Macpherson, Sandy Presents, London, 1950, 97–98. Macpherson, a Canadian who had been the resident organist at the Empire Cinema, Leicester Square, London, before becoming the BBC’s Theatre Organist, had a quiet, friendly, reassuring voice and an accessible repertoire which comprised light classics and the popular tunes of the day. During the war he had a number of his own domestic and overseas request and message programmes including Sandy Presents and Sandy’s Half Hour. 6. Tom Hickman, What did you do in the War Auntie? The BBC at War 1939–1945, London, 1995, 16. 7. RT 833, 15 September 1939, 11; RT 834, 22 September 1939, 7 and RT 835, 29 September 1939, 7 respectively. 8. Antonia White, BBC at War, London, 1941, 4–5. 9. Howard Thomas, With an Independent Air: Encounters During a Life time in Broadcasting, London, 1977, 54–55. 10. White, War, 6. 11. BBC WAC R34/918/2, Variety, 15 November 1939. 12. Audience figures were expressed in percentage terms with one per cent of the radio audience assumed to represent 330,000 listeners. 13. J.A. Cole, Lord Haw-Haw and William Joyce, London, 1964, 134; Briggs, III, 144. 14. Siân Nicholas, BBC Audience Research Reports, Part 1: Listener Research Department, 1937–c.1950, Wakefield, 2006, 8. 15. Siân Nicholas, ‘The People’s Radio: The BBC and its Audience 1939– 1945’ in Hayes et al. (eds), ‘Millions Like Us’? British Culture in the Second World War, Liverpool, 1999, 98. 16. RT 834, 22 September 1939, 38. 17. RT 909, 28 February 1941, 6. 18. RT 1045, 8 October 1943, 4. 19. M[ass]-O[bservation] File Report 149, Seriousness of Programmes, 28 May 1940. Mass-Observation is hereafter abbreviated to M-O. 166 M. DIBBS

20. For broadcaster Roy Plomley’s account of Radio International’s short life see his Days Seemed Longer: Early Years of a Broadcaster, London, 1980, 165–74. 21. RT 849, 5 January 1940, 5. 22. RT 855, 16 February 1940, 3. 23. The Listener 581, 29 February 1940, 441. 24. Ibid. 25. Ibid. 579, 15 February 1940, 308. 26. BBC WAC R34/882/5, B.E.F. Programme: Sunday Policy, 2 January 1940. 27. Daily Mirror, 29 December 1939, 16. 28. M-O File Report 1351, Forces (for The Observer), 15 July 1942. 29. RT 907, 14 February 1941, 3. 30. BBC WAC R13/311/6, Variety Department Staff, 1 April, 1940. 31. Hickman, Auntie, 128–30. 32. The original BBC Theatre Organ had been destroyed when St George’s Hall, the Variety Department’s abandoned London home, was gutted by incendiary bombs on 24 September 1940. The replacement organ was owned by the previous BBC theatre organist, Reginald Foort, and was moved from Llandudno to the County Theatre Bangor in October 1943. The organ was subsequently installed in the Jubilee Chapel, Hoxton, London in March 1946. 33. BBC Handbook 1941, London, 1940, 72. 34. Desert Island Discs, devised and presented by Roy Plomley, and first broadcast on 29 January 1942 on the Forces Programme, continues today. As at August 2018, the programme has had only four presenters in over 70 years. See Roy Plomley, Desert Island Discs, London, 1975; Sean Magee, Desert Island Discs: 70 Years of Castaways from one of Radio 4’s Best-Loved Programmes, London, 2012; Mitchell Symons, Desert Island Discs: Flotsam and Jetsam, Fascinating Facts, Figures and Miscellany from one of Radio 4’s Best-Loved Programmes, London, 2012. 35. See Francis Worsley, ITMA 1939–1948, London, 1948 and Ted Cavanagh, Tommy Handley, London, 1949. 36. BBC WAC R30/3773/1, 28 September 1942. 37. White, War, 24. 38. RT 1026, 28 May 1943, 1. 39. BBC WAC R30/3771/1, 4 October 1941; see also ibid. 20 October 1941. 40. BBC WAC R30/3771/2, Roberts to Watts, 18 November 1943. 41. See Brian Reynolds, Music While You Work: An Era in Broadcasting, Lewes, 2006. 42. BBC WAC R27/257/1, Music While You Work, 10 July 1940. 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 167

43. Ibid. undated, c. July 1940. 44. Ibid. Music While You Work, 21 August 1940. 45. RT 927, 4 July 1941, 3. 46. BBC WAC R27/257/1, LR/371: Music While You Work, 8 October 1941. 47. Ibid. Music While You Work: First Report for Period 5 May to 30 November 1941, n.d. 48. Ibid. Survey of the Fifth Year of the Service, 1 June 1945. 49. M-O File Report 1249, Use of Music in Factories and the BBC’s Music While You Work, 21 May 1942. 50. BBC WAC R51/23/1, “Information Please” (“Ask Me Another”), 26 November 1940. 51. Ibid. 52. See Howard Thomas, Britain’s Brains Trust, London, 1944, 17. 53. BBC WAC R51/22, “Any Questions”, 4 March, 1941. 54. Ibid. 2 May 1941. 55. For Thomas’s account, see his books ibid. Britain’s Brains Trust, 14–25 and With an Independent Air, 59–60 and 69–93. 56. BBC WAC R51/23/3, P32/42, The Brains Trust: Note by Controller (Programmes), 19 August 1942. 57. BBC Handbook 1942, London, 1941, 72. 58. Briggs, III, 507. 59. RT 1095, 22 September 1944, 3. 60. Thomas, Brains, 8–10. 61. BBC WAC R34/275/1, 2 April, 1940. 62. Quoted in BBC WAC R19/1824/1, Dance Music Policy, 29 December 1955. 63. Ibid. Banned Songs, 14 May 1943. 64. Ibid. Musical Plagiarisms, 16 and 23 January 1942. 65. BBC WAC R19/941/4, Howgill to Ricketts, 14 July 1944. 66. Some of these banned songs may be heard on This Record is Not to be Broadcast: 75 Songs Banned by the BBC 1931–1957, released on Fantastic Voyage FVTD018. 67. Briggs III, 538. 68. BBC WAC R19/244, G.46/43: Report on the Four BBC Contract Dance Bands and Victor Silvester’s Band, August 1943. 69. RT 1089, 11 August, 1944, 5. Glenn Miller and the AEF Band broadcast weekly on the BBC Home Service for five weeks during July and August 1944. 70. Correspondence between Marion Holledge and the author, 13 September 2008. 71. BBC WAC R34/281, Crooners and Crooning, 21 May 1941. 168 M. DIBBS

72. Ibid. Crooning, 28 May 1941. 73. BBC WAC R34/275/1, Anti-Flabby Entertainment in Empire Programmes, 11 March 1942. 74. BBC WAC R19/683, 3 November 1941. 75. Ibid. 17 March 1942. 76. Harman Grisewood, One Thing at a Time, London, 1968, 133. 77. BBC WAC R19/683, 24 March 1942. 78. RT 982, 24 July 1942, 3. 79. M-O File Report 1351. 80. Daily Mirror, 25 August 1942, 7. 81. BBC WAC R34/275/1, Programme Report, n.d., c. December 1939. 82. BBC WAC R13/312, Censorship, 20 January 1941. 83. BBC WAC R34/292/2, Questionable Material in Records, 18 November 1941. 84. BBC WAC R34/283, George Formby, 3 March 1942. 85. John Fisher, Funny Way to be a Hero, London, 1973, 100. 86. BBC WAC R34/283, ENSA Concert with George Formby, 27 January 1942. The song cited may be heard on Ibid, This Record is Not to be Broadcast: 75 Songs Banned by the BBC 1931–1957. 87. Ibid. ENSA Concert with George Formby, 21 January 1942. 88. Ibid. George Formby, 4 January 1945. 89. BBC WAC R9/15/1, Listener Research Report No. 12: Vulgarity in BBC Programmes, 4 March 1940. 90. BBC WAC R13/311/7, Variety Programmes, 19 January 1941. 91. The term ‘compère’ was not unknown to the BBC: up to this point it had been used, for example, in their Staff List for 1938 and frequently in Radio Times. 92. BBC WAC R34/275/1, Policy Points, 26 February 1942. 93. Ibid. Directive from C(P) No. 94, ‘The Modern Army’, 28 November 1942. 94. BBC WAC R34/275/2, Unconventional Language in BBC Programmes, 25 December 1943. 95. BBC WAC R34/918/3, Variety Material for Overseas Transmission, 6 October 1943. 96. BBC WAC R34/275/1, Propaganda Themes, 13 January 1942. 97. Ibid. Don’ts In Relation to China, 14 May 1942. 98. Ibid. Secretariat to Clarke, 24 January 1942. 99. Ibid. The BBC and Drink, 17 February 1942. 100. Ibid. Alcohol, 3 February 1942. 101. BBC WAC R34/288/1, “Off Colour” Jokes in the Empire Services, 15 October 1942. 102. Ibid. 27 November 1942. 1939–1945: WE WILL BE WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 169

103. Maurice Gorham, Broadcasting and Television Since 1900, London, 1952, 190. 104. BBC Handbook 1941, 57–59; BBC Year Book 1944, London, 1943, 91. 105. BBC WAC R34/918/2, “Hi Gang!” Series, 9 June 1940. 106. Valeria Camporesi, Mass Culture and National Traditions: The BBC and American Broadcasting, 1922–1954, Fucecchio, 2000, 160. 107. BBC Year Book 1943, London, 1942, 49–50. 108. Briggs, III, 585–88. 109. BBC Year Book 1944, 107–8. 110. Maurice Gorham, Broadcasting, 193. 111. Both Maurice Gorham, Sound and Fury: Twenty-One Years in the BBC, London, 1948, 133–35 and Christina L. Baade, Victory Through Harmony: The BBC and Popular Music in World War II, New York, 2014, 178–80, add useful comments regarding the BBC’s attitude towards the establishment of the AFN. See also Stephen Barnard, On the Radio: Music Radio in Britain, Milton Keynes, 1989, 28–29. 112. RT 994, 16 October 1942, 4. 113. Quoted in Camporesi, Culture, 164. 114. BBC WAC R34/420, Americanisation, 26 January 1945. 115. Barry Took, Laughter in the Air: An Informal History of Radio Comedy, London, 1976, 39–40. 116. Gorham, Broadcasting, 224. 117. BBC WAC R13/311/7, Report by Midland Regional Director on the Output of Variety Department, July 1943. 118. Ibid. G44/43, Report on Output of Variety Department: Memorandum from Director of Variety to Controller (Programmes) 24 July 1943. 119. BBC WAC R34/917, Variety from the North, 17 September 1943. 120. BBC WAC R13/311/7, G44/33, Report on Variety Output: Note by Basil Nicolls, 26 July 1943. 121. BBC WAC R34/578/1, Some Notes on Post-War Position, 19 March 1943 and Ibid. Comments on DG’s Notes on Post War Position, n.d. 122. BBC WAC R34/420, Post-War Home Programme Set-Up, 21 December 1944. 123. The reasons for this need not detain us but see Briggs, III, 532–40 for the rationale behind this move. 124. Gorham, Broadcasting, 202–3. 125. BBC WAC R34/420, Post-War Home Programme Set-Up, 21 December 1944. 126. BBC WAC R34/421/1, G13/45: The BBC and New Talent, a Note by Senior Controller, 2 May 1945. 127. Ibid. Post War Plans for Variety, 20 December 1944. 170 M. DIBBS

128. BBC WAC R13/312, Untitled [valedictory memo from Director of Variety to all Producers], 27 July, 1945. 129. BBC Year Book 1946, London, 1945, 63. 130. Angela Jeans, The Man Who Was My Husband: A Biography of John Watt, London, 1964, 138. 131. BBC Year Book 1945, London, 1944, 47. CHAPTER 5

1945–1955: A Golden Age for Radio Comedy

Normal Service Resumed The BBC emerged from the war highly popular, trusted and with great prestige. However, its imperative was to resume peacetime broadcasting as soon as possible and William (later Sir William) Haley, the Director- General, set a deadline for this at 90 days after VE Day. Haley was under no illusion about the enormity of the task ahead after six years of war. With many staff still on war service and a shortage of production facilities and equipment, a return to normality would not be immediate. Time, patience, talent and resources would be needed for the BBC to settle down and achieve the highest quality broadcasting possible. The success of the Forces Programme meant that the pre-war system of broadcasting, where the BBC used a single network to carry all domestic output, would be unacceptable to listeners who had grown to expect a greater choice. However, the Corporation’s sense of mission and commitment to public service broadcasting would continue. This had to be balanced against the resumption of commercial radio, which might again become a credible competitor. There was also the prospect of competition from a renewed BBC television service which was still considered to be at a semi- experimental stage. Peacetime broadcasting resumed within Haley’s target on 29 July 1945 and began with two out of the three planned networks, the Home Service (Programme ‘A’) and the Light Programme (Programme ‘B’). The Home

Service, with its six regional variations, provided the broadest range of programming which Haley saw as:

[appealing] to all classes, paying particular attention to culture at a level at which the ordinary listener can appreciate it…and generally so designed that it will steadily but imperceptibly raise the standard of taste, entertainment, outlook and citizenship of the British people.1

The Light Programme, which replaced the General Forces Programme, had national coverage and was described as being, ‘…a popular programme with a general mandate to interest listeners in life and in the world without at any time failing to entertain them’.2 Its role was to cater for an audience looking for relaxation and it therefore carried a much higher proportion of popular entertainment, a factor which would help the BBC to compete more effectively against commercial radio when it returned. The tripartite system of broadcasting was completed when Haley’s brainchild, the Third Programme (Programme ‘C’), aimed at the ‘serious attentive listener’ and dedicated to the dissemination of high art and culture, began broadcasting on 29 September 1946. With the Home Service and the Light Programme in place, competition between them was introduced in order to give listeners the best possible service. This involved the two networks competing as though they were separate companies vying for programmes from the BBC’s output departments.3 Maurice Gorham, then Controller of the Light Programme, remarked on the difficulties competition created between Lindsay Wellington the Controller of the Home Service and himself:

It was going to be none too easy to start competition inside the BBC without engendering bad blood…It was not easy to share out existing programmes between Lindsay Wellington and me, for there was no clear cut antithesis between his terms of reference and mine. I was to be light but he was not to be heavy; he had to have something of everything, though I could not see the logic of his having some light programmes when people who wanted light programmes could always get them from me.4

Competition did not go well from the outset. Frequent programme overlap between the two networks meant that there was insufficient differentiation between them to provide either with an individual identity in the mind of the public. Initially the Light Programme inherited all the Variety programmes from the Overseas and the General Forces Programmes 1945–1955: A GOLDEN AGE FOR RADIO COMEDY 173 including Merry-Go-Round and Variety Bandbox. Other Variety programmes such as ITMA and Music Hall, which had a natural home on the Light, remained with the Home Service. The Home Broadcasting Committee, chaired by Basil Nicolls, met weekly to adjudicate between the competing parties about programme placement. Eventually it was recognised that there was a need for coordination of programme resources and by 1948, while competition was not completely moribund, it was agreed that competition for declining audiences was wasteful, particularly at peak times.5 The policy was then gradually allowed to fade away and was officially abandoned following the 1957 report into the future of sound broadcasting.

The Pyramid of Culture The pre-war practice of using a single national network to accommodate all tastes had created a situation in which the audience could suddenly be exposed to the extremes of culture – Bach followed by Ivy Benson. This ‘hot and cold process’ while converting some listeners, irritated many others. Haley intended that the BBC should develop its role as a vehicle for national cultural improvement and adopted a modified form of Reithian philosophy which:

rest[ed] on the conception of the community as a broadly based cultural pyramid slowly aspiring upwards. This pyramid is served by three main Programmes, differentiated but broadly over-lapping in levels and interest, each Programme leading to the other, the listener being induced through the years increasingly to differentiate in favour of the things that are more worth-while…The listener must be led from good to better by curiosity, liking and a growth of understanding. As the standards of education and culture of the community rise so should the pyramid rise as a whole.6

While there would be a certain amount of commonality between the generally lowbrow Light Programme (base of the pyramid) and the mediumbrow Home Service (middle of the pyramid), each would provide a cultural taster through which it was intended that the audience would gradually become more discerning and progress to culturally more ‘beneficial’ programmes offered by the Third Programme at the apex of the pyramid. In this way, it was hoped that the pyramid would gradually invert as the population increasingly chose high art over popular 174 M. DIBBS entertainment. Although the BBC’s intention was not to achieve rigid stratification of the three networks, it was hoped that they would fade into each other, their differences being in approach and treatment rather than range and content. The example chosen was Der Rosenkavalier: while the Light might play a selection of waltzes from the opera, the Home would broadcast an act live from Covent Garden while the Third would transmit the whole work.7 Listeners could now choose the extent and speed of their own enlightenment. While for some there might be a natural curiosity about what was being broadcast elsewhere on the BBC, others could remain permanently tuned to the Light Programme. Haley’s commitment to cultural uplift was not universally popular either within or outside the BBC. Lord Reith was opposed to the Third Programme because it aimed culture at a minority on a separate network rather than at the radio audience as a whole. There was also some clandes- tine reaction from within the Corporation, where old habits and attitudes died hard. One example took the form of the reworking of a popular hymn making an irreverent swipe at Haley:

Haley, Haley, Haley, Lord God Almighty, Buggering up the programmes, on Home and Light and ‘C’ Double-up on culture, Bach and Boult and Bartok— Hell on three wavelengths, blessed BBC!8

D.G. Bridson, a producer in the Features Department, approved of the pre-war single network arrangements and considered the Light Programme came about partly as a result of the BBC being influenced by commercial radio’s pre-war success. He believed that audiences for radio programmes with a cultural and intellectual content could be marginalised with so many radios remaining firmly tuned to the Light Programme:

As the natural successor of the Forces Programme, the Light catered for those who wanted levity all the time purely for background listening…No longer was it necessary to take evasive action if one wanted to avoid the first rate: with the coming of the Light Programme, it could be virtually guaranteed that, except in the lighter forms of entertainment, the first rate never came one’s way.9

Bridson’s colleague Rayner Heppenstall also mourned the loss of the National Programme and objected to the subsequent stratification of the radio audience. He argued that there should never have been a Light 1945–1955: A GOLDEN AGE FOR RADIO COMEDY 175

Programme in which case there would not have been a need for the Third Programme.10 However, as will be shown later, while entertainment had a high profile in the schedules, the content of the Home Service and the Light Programme steadily became more serious as they began to play their part in elevating the nation’s cultural awareness – a factor which contributed in part to a decline in audience numbers. By 1947 the BBC deemed its most popular network to be the Light Programme, which served 15 million listeners. Originally the listening ratio between the Light, Home and the Third was aimed to be 50:40:10. However, the Light quickly gained 60 per cent of the audience and, for example, for the third quarter of 1951 the evening listening ratio between the three networks averaged 62:37:1, while the figures for daytime listening between the Light and the Home were 68:32. As the Third Programme did not begin until 6 pm daily it would not therefore be reflected in daytime listening figures.11

Variety Demobbed Variety’s home in London was now the Aeolian Hall, New Bond Street, premises which comprised a motley collection of studios most of which were never intended for broadcasting. It was here that post-war staff numbers peaked in 1948 and thereafter, as Table 5.1 shows, began to fall – a trend which mirrored the decline in listening.

Table 5.1 Variety Department staff numbers 1946–55

Feb. Apr. Apr. Apr. Apr. Apr. Apr. Jan. Oct. Oct. 1946 1947 1948 1949 1950 1951 1952 1953 1954 1955

Management 3 3 3 4 4 5 5 4 4 3 Producersa 30 36 37 39 39 35 28 30 32 29 Support 49 52 58 53 56 52 48 47 47 48 staffb Musicalc 25 22 21 13d 14 13 13 16 16 18 Totals 107 113 119 109 113 105 94 97 99 98

Source: Compiled from BBC Staff Lists 1946–55 aIncludes Script Section staff bIncludes admin, secretarial and clerical staff cIncludes accompanists, dance band, orchestra and music library staff dDance Band Section disbanded 176 M. DIBBS

Immediately after the war Variety was responsible for 120 programmes a week which, together with repeats, accounted for 257 slots or 130 hours of weekly broadcasting – approximately 25 per cent of the BBC’s total programme output across the Light Programme, Home Service and General Overseas Service.12 In addition to its wartime successes such as ITMA, Workers’ Playtime, Music While You Work and the Brains Trust, the Department produced a diverse selection of features, music and magazine programmes. Although an impressive output, there remained a shortfall in the Variety Department’s schedules caused largely by the absence of American pre-recorded programmes which had been a feature of the BBC’s light entertainment output during so much of the war. Some serious concerns which had occupied senior management before the war had, by now, been accommodated or seemed less important. Jazz had become an acceptable, if minor, feature of the broadcasting week. Crooners, while still a fixture of dance bands, were becoming stars in their own right. Song plugging remained intractable. As Dennis Norden recalled, the BBC unwittingly helped sustain it by paying a standard fee of £10 to a comedian who would close his act with a song accepted from a music publisher for ‘plug money’, which would be used to pay the scriptwriter.13 Questions of decency in programmes and Americanisation would be dealt with through a new set of guidelines on probity for producers, known informally as the Green Book. Religious broadcasting still maintained an important presence on radio. Sunday policy continued on the Home Service where dance music, variety, comedy, sport (but not commentaries) party politics and controversial subjects were all specifically barred. On the Light Programme, although ‘extremes of Variety’ (undefined) had to be avoided, Variety programmes and dance music appeared in the schedules.14 A 1951 report found there were 32 religious programmes weekly of varying lengths totalling ten hours broadcasting. These were split into 22 programmes (eight hours) on the Home Service and ten programmes (two hours) on the Light Programme.15 A typical Sunday’s broadcasting on the Light in December 1950, shown in Table 5.2, demonstrated how far programming had brightened since 1939. The half-hour People’s Service was now sandwiched between Family Favourites, a record request programme linking British forces in Germany and elsewhere with their families in Britain and Calling All Forces, a programme for the armed services. Sunday Half Hour, a programme of hymn singing appeared between Grand Hotel (light classical music) and Variety Bandbox. A little later the more cerebral Think on These Things 1945–1955: A GOLDEN AGE FOR RADIO COMEDY 177

Table 5.2 BBC Light Programme: schedule for Sunday, 10 December 1950

Time Programme and details

8:00 a.m. Breakfast Hour: Bill McGuffie at the piano 8:20 Way Out West (Johnny Denis and his Ranchers) 8:40 Dutch Serenade (Larry Macari’s Music with Elsie Monks at the organ) 9:00 News 9:10 Silver Chords 9:30 Sandy Presents 10:00 Wilfred Pickles in Have a Go! 10:30 Family Favourites 11:30 People’s Service from St. Mary’s, Warwick 12:00 noon Calling All Forces 1:00 p.m. We Beg to Differ 1:30 The Billy Cotton Band Show 2:00 Peter Brough and Archie Andrews in Educating Archie 2:30 Lester Ferguson in Your Song Parade with Guy Daines and his Orchestra 3:00 Bebe Daniels and Ben Lyon in Life With the Lyons 3:30 Douglass Montgomery in The Long Shadow: a serial in eight episodes 4:00 Ted Ray in Ray’s A Laugh 4:30 Richard Dimbleby comes Down Your Way (Tunbridge Wells) 5:30 Joy Nichols, Dick Bentley and Jimmy Edwards in Take it From Here 6:00 Round Britain Quiz (London v. North of England) 6:30 Sam Costa’s Record Rendezvous 7:00 News and Radio Newsreel (a summary of the events of the past week) 7:30 Grand Hotel: Tom Jenkins and the Palm Court Orchestra 8:30 Sunday Half Hour: community hymn singing from Tabernacle Welsh Baptist Church, Cardiff 9:00 Variety Bandbox 10:00 News 10:15 Ivor Moreton and Dave Kaye at two pianos 10:30 Think on These Things: Christian hymns, their music and their meaning 10:45 The Twilight Hour: Sandy Macpherson at the BBC theatre organ 11:15 Moonlight on the Alster: light music from Hamburg by the BFN Theatre Orchestra 11:56 News Summary 12:00 Close Down midnight

Source: Compiled from RT 1413, 8 December 1950, 17 and 19 existed alongside more sedate fare. The day was interspersed with many of Variety’s most popular programmes including Educating Archie, Life With the Lyons, Ray’s A Laugh, Take it From Here, Variety Bandbox and The Billy Cotton Band Show. However, while the original 10:30 am slot for 178 M. DIBBS

Billy Cotton had caused a certain amount of controversy as it clashed with church services, there was support from some sections of the clergy who praised the programme’s ability to make people happy.16 The programme was later moved to the peak listening time of 1.30 pm. Immediately after the war, the BBC gave the impression that it was business as usual within Variety:

The Variety Department has but one simple aim…to entertain. Such a purpose cannot but have an effect upon those who carry it out, and the otherwise work-a-day premises of the department have an atmosphere something akin to ‘backstage’ in the theatre – a feeling of vitality and humour, of inspired interest; on occasion, indeed, of gaiety. This is how it should be, for no ‘sparkle’ can emerge from a loudspeaker unless it is also present in the studio.17

However, in reality the situation was quite the opposite. There were systemic problems within the Department which stemmed principally from wartime exhaustion. The networks were sympathetic to the Department but they were dissatisfied with programme standards: while the Home Service placed high value on its Variety content, the programmes lacked panache. The Light Programme was not looking for sophistication, just good entertainment. Complaints focused on a shortage of ideas, poor studio facilities and inadequate rehearsal time. In December 1945 the recently appointed Director of Variety, Michael Standing, reported comprehensively on the state of affairs. He wrote:

Both inside the Corporation and … among professional people, outside, it is my impression that the Department’s reputation in the summer of 1945 was very low, pretty well at the bottom of a decline which set in some two years before. It was charged variously (and sometimes quite irresponsibly) with lack of integrity, poor organisation, bad leadership, frustrated, disinter- ested and incompetent producers, disloyalty and no esprit-de-corps.18

Standing had inherited a department which had acquired a reputation for a large number of perceived programme failures and generally substandard work. However, this criticism overlooked the large number of successful programmes which formed a substantial proportion of the Department’s vast output throughout the war. As well as suffering from exhaustion, producers were dissatisfied with their conditions of service and career prospects. Standing identified a number of reasons for this disquiet. Fundamental problems such as production staff programme 1945–1955: A GOLDEN AGE FOR RADIO COMEDY 179 suggestions and re-gradings had frequently been rejected leading to cyni- cism among producers about the BBC in general, its management and the planners in particular. Staff shortages entailed producers working on programmes for which they were particularly unsuited. Due to the dispersal of the Department during the war, internal communication had been poor and there was scant opportunity for production staff to voice their grievances. There was a general awareness within the department of corruption, most notably with song plugging. The fact that this appeared to be openly excused, and that some staff appeared to be profiting, was detrimental to morale. The Department had frequently been subject to disagreements arising from both the bypassing of the Administrative Assistant on occasion, as well as the clash of personalities between him and the Variety Director. Poor office and studio accommodation made programme production unnecessarily difficult. Secretarial staff had been allowed to assume responsibilities beyond their status and this unofficial authority consequently led to dissatisfaction with their pay. Standing was candid about the dismal reputation the Department had acquired both internally and among professional people outside. He promised to investigate promptly staff grievances and to report on each individual’s career prospects. He wanted to see an end to the maligning of the BBC within the Department and wrote:

I stressed my responsibilities both to [the Variety staff] and to the Management, undertook that I would be a ‘yes man’ to neither and that I would resign rather than accept any major decision affecting them to which I myself was violently opposed. I asked for three months to get into the saddle, when I would report upon the Department and make recommendations as to its future constitution.19

To improve communication within Variety he instituted monthly meetings of the whole Department as well as weekly consultations between the Assistant Director and groups of producers. He was optimistic for the future:

Morale is much higher, there is more enthusiasm and less complaint, and I believe that if we can settle quickly the future set-up of the Department, recruit such new staff as are needed, let each individual know exactly how he or she stands and resolve our worst studio difficulties we can really settle down to the business of building first-class shows, and so provide the best of answers to the ‘knockers’.20 180 M. DIBBS

Standing recognised that many weaknesses in the Department’s output arose from poor rehearsal and studio facilities rather than staff inadequa- cies. He believed that his producers were doing a remarkable job for which they were frequently given little credit. With increased demands for programmes from the new networks, all producers were fully occupied and he was generous in his appreciation of their efforts and loyalty. Producers could not work effectively without holidays but when they took sick or annual leave, production schedules could be seriously affected. Under these circumstances, without adequate preparation or rehearsal time, standards could not be raised. With some senior staff moving to television and others leaving for posts outside the BBC, the staffing situation remained precarious. Standing made a number of recommendations to revitalise Variety and return it to a condition in which it could produce high quality programmes. He proposed improved promotion prospects to take account of production successes and an increase in managerial staff. He hoped this would relieve the Director and his Assistant of some of the routine work so they could observe producers at work and maintain regular contact with the entertainment world. He suggested, as had been proposed in the past, that the Department be reorganised into a smaller number of specialist units in order to create a more enthusiastic team spirit. He also recommended the recruitment of more producers and the appointment of four senior producers in order to strengthen oversight of productions and raise programme standards. Standing knew that the quality of scripts was the single most important factor in the success or failure of programmes and he proposed that a script section be formed, in line with John Watt’s recommendations. Standing’s report went up the chain of command and its recommendations were largely accepted. The fact that the Director-General was directly involved in the process indicates that the BBC regarded this matter with the utmost seriousness, particularly with Variety’s key responsibility in serving its largest audience. In an article for The BBC Quarterly he set out his vision of a utopian Variety Department which would contain:

an endless array of talented artists, vocally agile, and ready to give their exclusive services to radio; a crowd of accomplished writers prolific in ideas and technically equipped to translate them into microphone form; producers with an unfailing ability, and above all, sufficient leisure to detect weaknesses in the structure and development of scripts.21 1945–1955: A GOLDEN AGE FOR RADIO COMEDY 181

Standing was saying nothing new here; every Variety Director to date had shared this aspiration. With the new title Head of Variety, Standing reported again on the state of the Department in October 1949, this time with the perspective of four years’ experience in the post. His report made dispiriting reading, for while the Department had been creating some innovative programmes, none of the technical facilities had been upgraded and he feared an exodus of the better staff to television. Standing contended that the Variety Department remained the subject of continual criticism and was not always given sufficient credit for its successes. He was also deeply concerned about Variety’s status within the BBC believing it to be held in lower esteem than Talks, Features, Drama and Music all of which were valued more highly because of their intellectual content. The Music Department, for example, showed a lack of trust in Variety’s ability to present any serious music content within its programmes. Herbert Murrill, Assistant Head of Music, demanded that this should be fully discussed with Music staff before being allowed to be broadcast. However, within the artistic heart of the Department there was a different mindset. Almost 60 years later some former BBC producers remembered that it was considered to be prestigious to work for Variety. Former producer Donald MacLean who later became Music Organiser in Light Entertainment, emphasised the ‘strong sense of mission’ to be found there.22 Brian Willey recalled that ‘the atmosphere was terrific and the morale was wonderful’. Peter Pilbeam spoke of ‘high morale and a very happy department to work in’. Geoff Lawrence, who worked in Variety in Manchester, remembered the ‘good, healthy, constructive and positive atmosphere … [with] a friendly rivalry about it’. He continued: ‘we had a pretty good regional head of programmes who talked our language … and we were allowed … that delightful freedom to experiment.’23 ‘Most people seemed to get on very well together. There was a really good atmosphere’ was how Pat Lawrence remembered the Department. Pat joined the BBC in January 1949 and worked as a production secretary and assistant in the Variety Department. She recalled that while it was difficult to get into the BBC, working within Variety was her ambition and that ‘having been brought up in the world of variety that’s where I wanted to be’. An indication of the relaxed nature within Variety came from one of her earliest memories when, while taking dictation from Brian Sears, producer of Variety Bandbox, he tap-danced on the desk.24 There were clearly differing per- ceptions of the Department and its work depending on who you were and 182 M. DIBBS where you worked. While in some quarters Variety might be seen as an unfortunate necessity despite the size of the audience it served, within the Department an increased sense of common purpose was returning under Michael Standing’s leadership. The Department’s studio and rehearsal facilities remained little short of deplorable with outdated fittings and equipment. None of its studios were specifically designed for broadcasting and only one was adequate for light entertainment productions, while programme presentation was insufficiently professional. Other issues raised by Standing included producers’ salaries, where there had been little improvement since his previous report and the quality and availability of artists, writers and musicians. Established radio artists such as Elsie and Doris Walters and Arthur Askey were not as popular as they had been and many comedians relied on material which was unsuitable for broadcasting. With the exception of Billy Cotton, few dance bands ranked as top-rated entertainment. Despite this, Standing felt that Variety had acquitted itself well since the war, particularly in view of the conditions under which staff worked, currency restrictions which prohibited the use of many foreign artists and the unexpected death of Tommy Handley, star of ITMA and the nation’s top radio comedian, in January 1949. Looking to the future Standing felt that the Department needed the flexibility to experiment in order to develop programmes and formats. He understood the importance of listening figures particularly as the Home Service and Light Programme were in competition both with each other and commercial radio. In presenting the report he felt that the recommendations in his original report had been only partially met and that:

In some respects, the general organisation, the morale of the staff, the Department’s reputation in the profession outside and, as I personally believe, the general standard of our programmes, we can, I think, claim to be better off than we were then. In others, we are, if anything, worse off. I refer particularly to the studio position and to our present staff plight.25

The Director-General supported Standing’s report. He commented on the importance of Variety’s work adding that, ‘all steps should be taken to encourage interest in it both inside and outside the Corporation’. In terms of staff recruitment, it was felt that university entertainment societies would be a source of supply as they always had been, and that Standing should visit Oxford and Cambridge in search of ‘bright young men’. 1945–1955: A GOLDEN AGE FOR RADIO COMEDY 183

Haley supported experimental programmes and the subject of studios would be considered as sympathetically as possible. So far as the Aeolian Hall was concerned, investment would depend on the renewal of the lease.26 There were benefits to working at the Aeolian Hall. Echoing Eric Maschwitz’s thoughts on the advantages of the Variety Department’s location remote from Broadcasting House 20 years previously, former Variety producer John Fawcett Wilson recalled:

It was a very good thing that [Light] Entertainment was actually based, as it were, ‘in the colonies’. Occasionally things happened that if one had been in the ‘Big House’, people might have interfered a bit more. They might have probably wanted a greater say…but a lot of people thought that you felt independent. [The Aeolian Hall] was really like a little BBC on its own.27

Listening habits were changing despite the gradual improvements in the Department’s performance resulting from the acceptance of Standing’s recommendations. Between 1948 and 1956 there was a progressive decline in the average evening audience from 9.7million (27 per cent of the adult population) to 4.5 million (11.9 per cent). However, 20 per cent of this decline had occurred before Radio Luxembourg or television could have had any effect.28 The radio audience was turning to alternative means of spending their leisure time such as greyhound racing, motoring and dancing. Shrinkage in radio listening was reflected in a contraction of the Variety Department’s output. Between 1945 and 1952, total weekly productions fell from 98 to 64, a reduction in output from 58 to 45 hours. Over the radio networks, this represented a two per cent decline for the Home Service and eight per cent for the Light Programme.29 As a result, Variety staff numbers fell by 21 per cent over the same period from 119 to 94. The reduction in output was achieved largely by cutting the short, ‘non-star’ radio programmes. Michael Standing was concerned about the possible under-employment of his producers and was keen to devise a scheme to develop experimental programmes to be funded from the budgets of the Light Programme and Home Service. Another problem was the continual need to make economies against a background of rising costs, a static income and redeployment of resources to television. Standing felt that good programmes could not be produced on a shoestring. If a major round of cuts were to be made it should involve a reduction in the department’s quantitative output rather than from within the budgets of individual programmes, in order to preserve their quality. Situation 184 M. DIBBS comedy was growing in popularity and used actors from the theatre who were cheaper to engage than artists from the entertainment field. Permanent staff who left were replaced by those on short-term contracts. There was a reduction in orchestrations commissioned and greater use was made of recorded link music in programmes as opposed to employing live orchestras. Irrespective of what strategies the Department could deploy to help stem the drift away from radio, television was set to become the main domestic entertainer.

Chambermaids and Fig Leaves For the first few years after the war, censorship of scripted material and popular music in Variety programming continued in much the same reactive way it always had done, that is, in response to complaints. Radio retained all its inhibitions in order to ensure that the highest standard of propriety was maintained. Writing in 1947 Jack Payne agreed, arguing:

I believe that all element[s] of indecency must be removed entirely from broadcasting, which is, after all, a family affair. Dirt and the radio just cannot live together.30

In 1945, one of Michael Standing’s first tasks was to issue guidance on probity to producers and ‘when in doubt, take it out’ remained the over- riding principle. Standing’s instructions were accompanied by a consolidated list of the prohibitions and an Overseas Guide.31 However, the BBC could be ambiguous about the boundaries of decency. The Controller of the Light Programme demonstrated this confusion while commenting on a transgression by Wilfred Pickles in 1948:

I am all for a bit of good Shakespearian bawdy for the groundlings and I am entirely in favour of broadcasting humour that springs directly from the life of the people. But please keep an eye on Pickles…Personally I don’t mind it so much as some of my colleagues, but the dividing line between the honest bawdy and dirt is shadowy, and D.G’s opinion might well be less liberal than mine.32

Later that year the rules were made more explicit when Michael Standing formally elaborated the BBC’s standard on propriety by issuing to all those involved in producing radio light entertainment the BBC Variety Programmes Policy Guide for Writers and Producers. This was 1945–1955: A GOLDEN AGE FOR RADIO COMEDY 185 known popularly among Variety staff as the Green Book on account of the colour of its cover. The Green Book’s 16 pages contained 17 areas of guidance and the Preface outlined its function which was to:

list the principal ‘taboos’, to indicate traps for the unwary or inexperienced, and to summarise the main guidance so far issued of more than a short term application. It is however no more than a guide, inevitably incomplete and subject of course to supplementation. It cannot replace the need of each producer to exercise continued vigilance in matters of taste.

Programmes were to be ‘free of crudities, coarseness and innuendo’ while humour in particular had to be, ‘clean and untainted directly or by association with vulgarity and suggestiveness’. There was an absolute ban on jokes about effeminacy in men, immorality and lavatories. There could be no suggestive references to honeymoon couples, animal habits, chambermaids, commercial travellers, fig leaves, ladies’ underwear and lodgers. There was a little more laxity permitted in programmes involving sophisticated cabaret and revue although items appropriate to these genres had to conform to the BBC’s established standards. Advertising was not permitted although it was recognised that some trade names such as ‘Aspirin’, ‘Spam’ and ‘Thermos’ had now passed into common usage and as such could be permitted provided there was no derogatory reference to them. The use of biblical and religious references was highly restricted and it would be difficult to mention almost anything in these areas, including jokes based on Bible stories and parodies of both biblical characters and Christmas carols. Jokes concerning different religions, religious ceremo- nies and offensive references to Jews or any other religious sect were banned as were those involving physical and mental infirmities which were barred out of concern for sufferers. Impersonation of artists was subject to prohibition without the prior permission of the artist although some, such as Gracie Fields and Vera Lynn, demanded a complete embargo. The use of expletives was justified only in a ‘serious dramatic setting’ and where words such as ‘blast’, ‘hell’, ‘damn’ and ‘bloody’ appeared in variety scripts, they were to be replaced by ‘innocuous expressions’. Jokes about alcohol could be justified on entertainment grounds and drinking songs could be used in their proper context. However, long drunken scenes had to be avoided and references to drink limited. Despite these provisions, temperance bodies continued to make representation to the BBC with deputations from such organisations being received into the mid-1950s. 186 M. DIBBS

With a growing Afro-Caribbean immigrant population in Britain, policy on issues of race remained at an embryonic, though gradually developing, stage. Its inclusion under a catch-all ‘Miscellaneous Points’ section of the Green Book indicated the low-level of importance attached to such issues and the continued presence of casual racism at this time. The avoidance of ‘…derogatory references to coloured races…’ was emphasised and the advice continued: ‘Do not refer to Negroes as ‘Niggers’ (‘Nigger Minstrels’ is allowed)’. In this particular instance while the term ‘Negroes’ was deemed acceptable, ‘Nigger Minstrels’ was seen as describing a type of entertainment rather than being linguistically and racially insulting and therefore felt not to be contentious. With overseas broadcasts it was recognised that humour was limited by national social, political and religious taboos; what might be acceptable to British audiences might not be to those overseas. Disrespectful references to religion and issues of colour had to be avoided altogether. While it was impossible to list all sensitive subjects, gags about harems and references to Chinese laundries might be perceived to be offensive and were prohibited; jokes like ‘enough to make a Maltese cross’ were of ‘doubtful value’ while the Boer War had to be referred to as the South African War. The BBC was deeply concerned about potentially defamatory material; production staff were cautioned against the use of slights by one artist against another, unflattering impersonations, and the use of a character identifiable with a living person in a fictional setting. Other restricted areas were, the professions, trades, social classes, encouragement to strike action, the black market and spivs. Up to 1946, there could be no gags about the cabinet or Parliament. Subsequently a more relaxed policy permitted humorous political references in Variety programmes subject to their approval by the Director-General. The Green Book set out the parameters of political humour:

We therefore reserve the right for variety programmes in moderation to take a crack at the Government of the day and the Opposition so long as they do so sensibly, without undue acidity and above all funnily.

However, there could be no inflammatory remarks about political institutions, statutes, or the Constitution. Anything which could be inferred as personal abuse to ministers, party leaders or MPs was forbidden. Impersonation of leading political figures and elder statesmen was prohibited and while those of long-dead historical figures was allowed, 1945–1955: A GOLDEN AGE FOR RADIO COMEDY 187 impersonation of those who had died within living memory was normally unacceptable. Political issues could be mentioned if incidental to a programme but could not be used as a running theme. In reality this left very little to be humorous about politically and any joke would have to be very mild. Since all areas of concern were covered by one publication, there was little excuse for ignorance and senior management anticipated reduced vulgarity in programmes. The Green Book could only be a guide which would have to be supplemented as new or unforeseen situations arose, as they did during the 1950s and 1960s. In 1949 Policy Notes for Programme Staff, a general guide for producers across all output departments, appeared. While duplicating some of the Green Book’s content, it set out the BBC’s editorial standards in greater detail on matters relating to inter alia impartiality, defamation, the Royal Family, politics, gambling, health matters, religion and Sunday policy. Standing also issued further advice to producers whom he felt had been too liberal in interpreting the Green Book. He insisted on the contractual obligation to submit scripts seven days before broadcast; ‘doubtful material’ could not be passed simply because it had been broadcast before and producers should not be browbeaten by artists who complained of being given greater freedom by other producers. Production staff were continually reminded about lapses in taste and radio was expected to set an example particularly in relation to the lower standards perceived to be permitted on television. While there were a small number of cases where programmes were given what Michael Standing described as an ‘adults only certificate’, this was not the criterion for the majority of the Department’s output and producers were continually reminded of their personal responsibility in the maintenance of standards of decency:

It is very easy to take a cynical line about all this and dismiss the Corporation’s attitude as that of a fussy old maid but the fact is that every Producer bears a very heavy public responsibility in this matter and we have, more than once lately, [been] let [down] by material which has certainly not added to our individual or collective laurels.33

Despite this advice, material considered to be contentious inevitably crept into programmes and new prohibitions were added from time to time. Gags concerning the theft of the Stone of Destiny were banned and following representation by concerned bodies, humorous references to the Windmill Theatre and the WVS were stopped; the use of the 188 M. DIBBS expressions ‘God Bless’ and its variants was prohibited and there was a dire warning given about colourful rhyming slang. Complaints were inevitable and transgressors faced the sanction of disqualification of the bonus sometimes awarded for outstanding work.34 At the Variety producers’ monthly meeting in November 1952 it was the turn of effeminacy together with singers advertising their latest records in programmes. The meeting of 19 January 1954 was informed that with the recent publicity linking smoking to cancer, gags in relation to this were proscribed. In the last months of 1955, references to Princess Margaret and Group Captain Peter Townsend were banned as were insensitive remarks about the height of popular entertainer Wee Georgie Wood. While the Green Book imposed constraints on what could be broadcast, producers were a pragmatic breed and some thought that a degree of risk- taking was necessary in order to aid the creative process. Frequently this meant ignoring the Green Book in order to serve the more tolerant sectors of the audience. When producing The Goon Show, Charles Chilton recalled that he frequently had to remind Spike Milligan to remove jokes of a sexual nature.35 Some programmes attracted complaints such as the highly popular Ray’s A Laugh and in January 1950 Michael Standing had to write to George Inns, the programme’s producer, regarding its script:

I am getting an increasing number of complaints about the Rabelaisian humour that is finding its way intoRay’s A Laugh. It would be disastrous if, after its very good record, this programme were to get into black books for this quite unnecessary reason. Please take a really firm line about this with the writers otherwise the programme will lose its position as ‘the best show on the air’.36

It wasn’t just the established producers who saw the Green Book as a barrier waiting to be breached. Scriptwriter Frank Muir recalled that he wrote to the Assistant Head of Variety tongue-in-cheek:

Mike Meehan went into hospital with a respiratory problem and to cheer him up Denis [Norden] and I wrote to him asking if, in the light of the Green Book’s guidelines, he would kindly OK the enclosed script. The script began: “C-C-C-Christ!” said the king to the one-legged nigger. It took us half a morning’s work, but in this splendidly politically incorrect sentence we managed to get five infringements of the Green Book’s dicta into eight words.37 1945–1955: A GOLDEN AGE FOR RADIO COMEDY 189

Peter Pilbeam, who worked as a producer in the Variety Department in London and Manchester, recalled:

There was the producer’s handbook…the do’s and don’ts…You had to be your own censor; you had to ‘blue pencil’ things. There was a rule in my early days certainly that comedians had to submit a script before they came to rehearsal and they had to stick word for word to the printed page…It was childish really the censorship you had to undergo.38

Fledgling scriptwriters and comedians Bob Colston and Dan Douglas had a real interest in satirising politics and religion but, following their move to London in 1949, were warned against this when interviewed by Peter Titheradge of the Script Section. However, on becoming radio artists that year they immediately set about breaking the rules:

We were given this green book which we called the ‘blue book’ and we had to watch the blue jokes. When you read it you realised that you couldn’t really write anything but we did.39

Charles Chilton remembered how writers and artists would continually attempt to bypass the system:

It didn’t matter how often things were cut out, writers always came up with the same things all the time: they kept bringing them forward. It was almost impossible to keep these things off the air, ‘winter draws on’ and so on.40

John Fawcett Wilson, who became a Light Entertainment producer in 1962, recalled that if he was concerned about anything of a doubtful nature, he would consult the Corporation’s solicitor. Being too fastidious regarding script content could detract from the overall effect of a programme and in his adaptation of John Le Carré’s novel A Small Town in Germany he allowed himself some leeway:

We went through the script very carefully but if I thought the situation in which he says ‘Christ!’ or something like that or ‘bloody hell!’, if it justified it, I thought we’d do it.41

Producers, writers and artists of the time frequently regarded the Green Book as a challenge and an obstacle to be circumnavigated when testing an idea, exploring new areas of comedy or simply to see how far the limits 190 M. DIBBS could be pushed. They were in tune with the growing post-war liberalisa- tion of social conventions and to a degree this was tolerated by senior management.

Anti-Americanism Returns While the BBC had resisted American pre-war influences on British light entertainment, the war had brought about exceptional circumstances such as programme shortages and ideas which required American help. Haley was unambiguous about a peacetime return to the BBC’s distinct model of broadcasting. In January 1945 he expressed disquiet, not only about American influences on British culture, but also its unwelcome imitation by British radio producers and artists. While Haley welcomed high-quality American entertainment, he felt that it was time to return to programmes:

firmly British in character, [which would] by reflecting our national environment and characteristics, have the effect of encouraging and consolidating listeners in their feeling for British speech, culture and institutions…genuine American entertainment of the highest quality will always, I hope, be able to find a place in our programmes. But the by-products of this wartime vogue have not been so welcome – sham American entertainment produced in Britain, the unnecessary use of American slang, crooning in spurious American accents, and the pursuit of American idioms, sentiments and rhythms.42

The BBC Variety Department had been most exposed to Americanisation and Haley sought strategies from all programme-making departments to counter its continued threat. His view, that the American influence on BBC light entertainment should be strictly limited, remained a feature of BBC popular entertainment policy beyond his resignation in 1952. Commenting on the differing approaches by Britain and America to radio programmes and audience taste, the writers Elkan and Dorotheen Allan thought they seemed irreconcilable:

All in all, American radio is almost unbearable for the BBC-conditioned listener…The American radio plays a valiant part in pulling the wool over 140 million pairs of willing eyes: soap operas, give-away shows, cops-and- robber chases, perpetual comedians and noisy dance music are highly efficient distractions for a people afraid to face facts. In England we are a little 1945–1955: A GOLDEN AGE FOR RADIO COMEDY 191

more in touch with reality, and the unrelieved cream-puffs of American radio would hold as little attraction for British listeners as the BBC’s mixed fare would have for the conditioned American listener.43

Despite these assertions, they produced no evidence to substantiate their views on either audience. In 1948 the BBC’s policy on Americanisation was also set out in the Green Book. While it was recognised that American film, comedy and popular song greatly influenced popular culture in Britain, the BBC maintained that it had the responsibility to provide culturally British programmes. It was accepted that there would always be a place for American artists and material in BBC programmes but the content of home-grown programmes had to be characteristically British and on this the BBC’s view was absolute.44 Notwithstanding its hostility, the BBC continued to broadcast American popular music, feature American artists and produce programmes about America. Although this was in an era of a shortage of American dollars to pay American artists, it had the approval of BBC management.45 In July 1950 ten guineas in dollars was found to bring Ava Gardner to Starlight Hour, 75 guineas in dollars allowed Larry Adler to appear on Henry Hall’s Guest Night and in 1951 folk singer Josh White was paid 35 guineas in dollars to appear in Charles Chilton’s Walk Together Children, a programme featuring spirituals. That year, Pat Hillyard and NBC jointly produced The Big Show featuring stars of Broadway and Hollywood, which was broadcast live from the London Palladium.46 To celebrate the Coronation, the Variety Department included a show featuring American artists entitled Star Spangled Salute and Radio Times gave a warm tribute to the popularity of American writers, artists and composers in Britain:

We make them feel at home. Their musical shows run for years at our most famous theatres: Hollywood and Broadway send their stars to top the bill at our leading music halls.47

Some radio comedy programmes owed their origins in part to American ideas or formats. Educating Archie was inspired by the popular American radio ventriloquist, Edgar Bergman and his dummy Charlie McCarthy.48 Situation comedy, which dated from 1926, was adopted with great success and included Bebe Daniels and Ben Lyon’s post-war radio show Life With the Lyons which was based on events in the lives of an American family living in Britain. British situation comedies included Hancock’s Half 192 M. DIBBS

Hour, Meet the Huggetts, and A Life of Bliss. Radio quiz programmes flourished in Britain and some were almost exact copies of American shows, for example, The Name’s the Same and Twenty Questions. These were slower and quieter than their transatlantic counterparts because the BBC did not offer the incentive of cash or large prizes. Shows in which members of the audience were randomly chosen to appear were uncommon with the notable exception of Have a Go!, arguably the most popular radio series of this period. It visited different places each week in order to meet people who had an interesting story to tell and included a quiz. The programme was devised by John Salt, the former Assistant North American Director and while the format might have originated in America, the show complied in full with the cultural guidelines set out in the Green Book. Although some American programme formats were adopted, scripted light entertainment remained largely free of American influences due to the use of British humour, satirical reference and national stereotyping. In 2008 and 2009 I interviewed a small number of Variety Department producers whose work covered the period from the 1930s to 1980s. While many worked with visiting American artists, none could recall any anti- American sentiment within the BBC or had ever been instructed to alter or anglicise scripts. In 1954 Michael Standing, now Controller of Entertainment (Sound), prepared a report which considered the Americanisation of programmes.49 This proved to be the last significant investigation of this topic at the BBC for, with the arrival of commercial television and the emergence of teen culture there was a gradual decline in anti-American rhetoric within the Corporation. Scripting and casting was largely home-grown and only a few Americans were employed. The problem principally lay with American popular music. Mindful that the majority of popular songs had a relatively short shelf-life and about 80 per cent of the best-selling records in Britain were by American artists, Standing was concerned that music publishers and record companies, often with American financial backing, were continually harassing producers to give increased airtime to American records. He recognised that the popularity of American artists and songs, particularly with younger members of British audiences, had been boosted by American films, imported Broadway shows and American artists on the variety circuit. Standing argued that the current fashion was for British artists to adopt a ‘transatlantic veneer’ in order to sing British songs written in an American style. In 1954 an average of 40 per cent of the BBC’s popular music output was written by British composers. He saw no 1945–1955: A GOLDEN AGE FOR RADIO COMEDY 193 immediate prospect of change except by reducing the number of popular songs broadcast, which would be both against programme interests and lead to strife with music publishers, record companies and the Songwriter’s Guild. While fashions in entertainment could not be changed overnight, Standing felt that the BBC should be less inclined to allow its programme content to be driven by entertainment industry interests. His principal solution centred on the BBC becoming an innovator by developing and commissioning what he termed, but did not define, ‘British-sounding’ programmes. This would be costly but would be regarded as a long-term investment. He remained resigned to the fact that this would have to be well established before any serious reduction in American programme content could be made. More intractable was the problem of gramophone records. The output of record companies remained heavily biased towards the more successful American artists and material and while the BBC’s Gramophone Department managed to include a 33 per cent British proportion in its popular programme content, he was resigned to the fact that this could not be substantially increased if the BBC wished to remain up-to-date. Standing suggested a policy of positive discrimination towards British artists using both shorter programme slots and record request programmes to increase the profile of British and non-American artists. This was easier said than done owing to the shortage of such material. What would be unacceptable was the anglicisation of American material. Here there was a certain irony, particularly as the BBC had done precisely this with dance music and jazz during the 1920s and 1930s. Standing was not particularly optimistic about the future and in urging vigilance, betrayed his concern about the continuing expansion of American light entertainment within BBC programmes:

We should perhaps be more alive to its insidious effect and seek more con- sciously to balance it with something still popular, if we can find it or create it, but with stronger elements of the bright, robust and melodious which have mainly characterised British Light Entertainment through the years.50

The BBC, working alone in formulating strategies against Americanisation, could only have a limited effect on influencing the nation’s listening habits, as American popular music was highly regarded by the public and easily available from other sources including records, Radio Luxembourg, television and, from the 1960s, pirate radio. 194 M. DIBBS

While Standing had provided some vision for the future, Kenneth Adam, the Controller of the Light Programme, set out the achievements so far in ‘…encourag[ing] authentic British playing, singing and general performance’ although what this actually meant was not defined.51 The Light Programme’s content, much of which originated in the Variety Department, had contributed to British music-making in providing a cross-section of music designed to appeal to small and specific audiences. In 1951, Song for Britain featured choirs, One Night Stand, the best of British dance music, Top Town, a radio talent show and Songs of the British Isles from the BBC Opera Orchestra. In 1952 folk music made an appearance in a few programmes such as The Postman Brings Me Songs and They Still Sing Them, while Nights of Gladness concentrated on the composers Ivor Novello and Noël Coward. The following year Our Island Music explored British music making; Mr Music was a salute to British composer/conductors and As I Roved Out, a Sunday morning programme of folk music. Jack Payne reappeared that year with British Band Box. Finally, 1954 included the series The Song Shop, which gave prominence solely to British songs and singers, while Sir Steuart Wilson presented a survey of music-making in British universities. Established programmes offering a platform for British artists included that of Carroll Levis, which uncovered aspiring talent. May I Introduce? provided a radio opportunity for British musicians, while Palace of Varieties specialised in British music hall songs and artists. Other British-based programmes included barn dances and old-time dance music which were ‘…an indispensable feature of any year’s schedules’.52 Although these programmes undoubtedly promoted and featured British artists, they were backward rather than forward-looking and clearly from another era. With Britain barely out of austerity these programmes appealed to an older age group. To the younger sector of the audience this may have appeared uninspiring compared to the modernity of American popular music, produced in a country experiencing a post- war boom in an age of rising consumerism.

Radio Comedy Perfected Asa Briggs described the 1930s as being ‘The Golden Age of Wireless’. The period from 1945 to 1955 can be considered the Golden Age of Radio Comedy, when new artists, scriptwriters and producers together created some of the most memorable and durable radio comedy programmes under the aegis of the Variety Department. Immediately after 1945–1955: A GOLDEN AGE FOR RADIO COMEDY 195 the war, the Department’s output encompassed a contrasting selection of programmes. These included pre-war survivors ITMA, Danger! – Men At Work, The Kentucky Minstrels and In Town Tonight. There were wartime favourites such as Workers’ Playtime, Hi Gang! and The Happidrome. Others based on the armed services moved into civilian life. These included Much Binding in the Marsh (1947–53), Stand Easy (1946–49), Waterlogged Spa (1944–48) and Navy Mixture (1943–47). New programmes such as Ignorance is Bliss (1946–53) and Up the Pole (1947–52) were created. By now the style of programme on which Eric Maschwitz had founded the success of the Department had become anachronistic. Post-war, there was to be an almost complete elimination of what Tom Chalmers, Controller of the Light Programme, described as being:

whimsy and fantasy, the bored and lifeless sophistication of most West End cabaret and revue, and the Ruritanian type of musical comedy manufactured in large quantities in the late 20’s and 30’s.53

The variety theatre and music hall were still represented in the Light Programme’s schedules and could attract large audiences. However, this form of public entertainment had been in decline for many years and was now fading fast.54 While these programmes had functioned as a nursery for many new artists, traditional ‘act’ shows on radio were now becoming an endangered species. The veteran programmes Palace of Varieties and Music Hall disappeared during the early 1950s as did Variety Bandbox in order to make way for a new generation of comedy series, many of which were situation comedies. The Department, which now included a younger generation of producers, was, as always, searching for new original artists, programme ideas and scriptwriters. Michael Standing was alive to the danger of alienating the radio audience by continually offering the same fare and his policy was to provide a combination of the familiar and the new. He refuted criticism that the BBC was not encouraging new blood. In November 1948 he told Radio Times that in the 12 month period from October 1947, 120 new acts had been broadcast, ten new dance bands were introduced, 12 new writers to radio had been commissioned for current or future projects, 16 new shows had been launched and 3,000 hopefuls had been auditioned of whom 300 has passed the initial stage.55 To assist in the search for new talent, the Variety Department, had developed ‘showcase’ programmes such as Elsie and Doris Waters’ Gert and Daisy’s Working Party (1948), 196 M. DIBBS which visited factories in search of amateur talent and Hughie Green’s Opportunity Knocks. This show travelled 20,000 miles in its first six months and auditioned 4,000 acts.56 However, of 100 new artists chosen to appear on the programme, only 25 were actually offered contracts within show business.57 The Department treated its auditions seriously and in 1948 Script Editor Gale Pedrick wrote that requests for 5,000 had been received in two years:

Under studio conditions, panels of experts have in turn heard and reported fully on every conceivable type of entertainer. On their lists have been lyric sopranos, banjo orchestras, ventriloquists, crooners in all ranges.58

In one period of six months, out of 2,103 auditions, a little over 200 were recalled, of whom only 50 were assessed as being suitable for broadcasting. These statistics were a reminder of the BBC’s pre-war experience of auditions and demonstrated that talent remained hard to find. Like all previous directors of Variety, Michael Standing understood the vital importance of good scripts and among his 1945 recommendations to restore the Department’s fortunes was the establishment of a script section. Initially a temporary unit, the section began work in December 1946 under Script Editor Gale Pedrick, who was joined by A.C.L. Bennett and Peter Titheradge in early 1947. The section’s role was not to devise new scripts but instead to assess, advise and improve existing material and encourage emerging writers. In 1948 Pedrick reported that the Script Section had become an integral part of the Variety Department, the focus for all script submissions and programme ideas as well as being the first point of contact for aspiring writers. It developed a good working relationship with the majority of Variety producers, many of whom had sought its help as it allowed them to concentrate on the business of programme making.59 During this time radio scriptwriting established itself as a recognised profession and ITMA’s Ted Kavanagh, arguably the country’s leading variety scriptwriter, was soon joined by among others, Eric Barker, Sid Colin, Spike Milligan and Eric Sykes together with the partnerships of Muir and Norden, Monkhouse and Goodwin and Galton and Simpson. Lesser known were Bob Colston and Dan Douglas, scriptwriters and a double-act from the North-East who, having appeared on Who’s Who?, a showcase for emerging talent, were offered their own series The Air’s the Limit in the North Region. This was a comedy sketch programme with musical interludes from a big band and a female vocal group. The 1945–1955: A GOLDEN AGE FOR RADIO COMEDY 197 programme, while conventional in format for its time, set about breaking new ground. As Bob Colston remembered:

In 1949 in Newcastle we were the new fresh programme, as all the comedy shows up till then had relied on Geordie comics from the clubs speaking in Geordie and talking about ferrets and debt. Satire opened a new box of tricks for them in the North-East.60

The show was well received by the press where members of the audience described it as being, ‘one of the slickest and breeziest productions since ITMA’, ‘funny but clever’ and ‘a wonderful achievement’. There were some detractors however who complained about the BBC Oxford accents used in the programme rather than the Geordie dialect. However, the producer Richard (Dick) Kelly, was a champion of regional programmes and had produced and promoted, both inside and outside the region, Wot Cheor Geordie!, a Variety production billed in Radio Times as ‘music and mirth in the Tyneside manner’. While The Air’s the Limit was not in dialect, Kelly saw the possibility of this programme reaching a wider audience across the country together with the potential of Colston and Douglas as artists and scriptwriters. Of the series, he assured the audience:

This programme represents a broadening of North East BBC Policy…The show could be aired in all regions and also gives us another chance to use new script-writers of whom there is a lack.61

Colston and Douglas subsequently moved to London and, having met Gale Pedrick and Peter Dion Titheradge, continued scriptwriting and appeared in Variety Fanfare and in the ‘Professional Protegés’ spot in Midday Music Hall. Pedrick considered that good comedy writing could not be taught and his strategy was to attach promising writers to those already established and successful. Despite his efforts, good writers remained hard to find. There was no particular template for a variety show and invariably programme ideas were developed on a trial-and-error basis either until the formula was considered to be successful or the show abandoned. Programmes could often be delayed waiting for scripts to be completed or artists to become available. Pat Hillyard, then Deputy Head of Variety and soon to replace Michael Standing, had six shows waiting to be commissioned in 1952 and wrote of his frustration: 198 M. DIBBS

I have been attempting to build some of these shows since early last Autumn – which only goes to prove how long it can take to prepare a major series, particularly when we are dealing with those who have many commit- ments in the theatre or films. I feel sure the critics and the public do not always appreciate that creating new shows is a slow process, and I think it would be a good thing to remind them occasionally that we are not sitting back with our feet up.62

Standing thought that the numbers of new programmes could be increased if production staff were allowed to use their intuition rather than accept the judgement of the programme planners who were loath to use ‘experimental’ programmes as a vehicle to trial new ideas.63 Not all suggestions made it to the microphone. These included It’s a Family Affair which proposed pairing artists who were near relatives; The Cads’ Club would feature a scoundrel in the starring role and Money Talks, with a bank manager as the principal character. Comedians’ Corner would exploit the talents of comedians who were also musicians while Stairway to the Stars would involve impersonations of artists of the 1920s to the 1940s by present day radio artists, presumably without contravening the guidelines set out in the Green Book. The Variety Department rarely contributed to the Third Programme’s output. One exception was Frank Muir and Denis Norden’s satirical series Third Division which ran from 26 January until 2 March 1949.64 Audience response was varied; one listener wrote disparagingly:

[I] can only conclude he thinks we Third Programme listeners are a crowd of morons…if we are to have light entertainment in the Third…let it have a spark of life and wit. Third Division was of unparalleled dullness and banality.65

Another listener clearly understood that the programme needed to be nurtured:

the critics have spoken only unkind words about the programme. The humour may have been self-conscious at times but one can’t expect complete self-assurance from a new born. In Third Division we had, for once, an intelligent and original type of humour; at times satirical, often bold but never losing its essential light-heartedness.66

The programme was not repeated although there was a legacy. Third Division introduced Michael Bentine, Peter Sellers and Harry Secombe to 1945–1955: A GOLDEN AGE FOR RADIO COMEDY 199 the radio audience, all three of whom would soon feature in The Goon Show. A sketch which appeared on the programme, the satirical travelogue Balham, Gateway to the South, was revived and recorded by Peter Sellers in 1958 and formed the basis of the script for a short film in 1979. More successful was In All Directions (1952–55) which starred Peter Jones and Peter Ustinov. The first series concerned a weekly car journey with the two actors playing all the parts and supplying the sound effects. Uniquely they would pre-record their ideas, which would be edited by Frank Muir and Denis Norden but the programme would be broadcast in improvised form, a practice hitherto proscribed by the BBC. This was also the period in which radio comedy and in particular situation comedy came to prominence. In this format, a single storyline would occupy the whole or part of a programme sometimes with a musical inter- lude or two (although these would later be dropped) and feature a star and regular cast. Such programmes included Ray’s A Laugh (1949–61), a domestic comedy with the comedian Ted Ray and Life With the Lyons (1950–61) featuring Bebe Daniels and Ben Lyon, based on real events in the life of a middle-class American family living in Britain. Meet the Huggetts (1953–61) a light-hearted working class domestic comedy which starred Jack Warner and Kathleen Harrison was also successful. Situation comedies reflected the boom in housing and consumer spending of the time and provided characters that listeners could identify with or aspire to. Programmes frequently featured catch phrases, some of which found their way into common usage. This could backfire and one edition ofRay’s A Laugh attracted the ire of 100 mothers on the Hainault Estate in London whose children were repeating the phrase and its variants, ‘…shut your big gob, soppy’.67 The radio comedy shows of this period demonstrated how far Variety programmes had developed from their roots in the theatre and music hall. The following four case studies illustrate the diversity of the Variety Department’s output. Each programme was relatively long-lived, well scripted and new to radio. Take It From Here (TIFH) (1948–60) was seminal in shaping BBC radio comedy in the post-war period. The programme had its origins in the series Navy Mixture which included Frank Muir and Denis Norden, not yet a writing team, contributing material for artists Jimmy Edwards and Dick Bentley. Producer Charles Maxwell brought all parties together and created the show which consisted of sketches and parodies of books or films separated by musical interludes. While the BBC initially thought that TIFH was too intellectual, the writers assumed from the outset that their 200 M. DIBBS audience was both literate and intelligent and pitched their humour accordingly, based around their own love of language and puns. Denis Norden commented:

I remember we wrote a line about Picasso and the BBC said the public wouldn’t know who Picasso was…they ignored the fact that people were buying more newspapers than ever before and there were television and radio. It was quite possible that the listeners had never seen any of Picasso’s works but at least they would know, we argued, that he was a modern painter.68

TIFH grew in popularity and ran successfully for 11 years receiving plaudits from BBC senior management who described it in June 1949 as having made ‘a magnificent contribution to listening in the six last months’ and a month later as being the ‘number one comedy show’. In 1949 and 1951 TIFH was voted the most successful variety programme of the year by readers of the Daily Mail in their National Radio and Television Awards. In 1953, the programme was revitalised with the inclusion of The Glums, a short sit-com within the programme. The Glums was a weekly visit to a dysfunctional family and was inspired by Muir and Norden’s dislike of the BBC’s view of cosy family life as portrayed in Meet The Huggetts and Life With the Lyons. This slice of working-class life featured the dim- witted Ron (Bentley), his uncouth father (Edwards) and his doting fiancé Eff played by the recently recruited June Whitfield. The Glums provided a commentary on the social conventions of courtship of the time and quickly became the main feature and eagerly anticipated part of the show. Between December 1951 and June 1952, the audience varied between 20 and 33 per cent of the adult population and recorded excellent Appreciation Indices (AI) of between 67 and 78.69 As late as 1959, with an audience by now reduced to nine per cent, TIFH was still capable of a highly creditable AI of 68. 1959 marked a turning point for the programme with the departure of Maxwell in March followed by Muir and Norden in July. Educating Archie (1950–59) was the first example of how a highly successful radio series could be commercially exploited other than by transfer to the variety theatre. The programme was built around ventriloquist Peter Brough and his dummy Archie Andrews, with a weekly plot predicated on a prankster teenage boy who was being taught at home. The first programme attracted an audience of 4 million which rose to 12 million by the end of the 30-week series which had originally been scheduled for just 1945–1955: A GOLDEN AGE FOR RADIO COMEDY 201 six weeks. It was on air for only four and a half months before Daily Mail readers voted it the top variety series of 1950. The programme included at various times many future stars including Julie Andrews, Tony Hancock, Beryl Reid and Harry Secombe. The character of Archie was loved by children despite not being created for them. Brough, however, seeing the commercial possibilities, arranged many sponsorship deals, all of which targeted children. One firm manufactured ventriloquial and mechanical versions of Archie and also key rings which sold 500,000 in six months. Archie merchandise included soap as well as books, jigsaw puzzles, cloth- ing and confectionery. The most successful venture was with the Meddocream Company whose Archie Andrews Lollie Club attracted 200,000 members and sold 15 million ice lollies in its first year. Archie was also used in road safety and national savings campaigns as well as that of the Infantile Paralysis Fund.70 The programme’s success led to Brough being wooed by commercial radio and offered £500 per show by confec- tionary manufacturer Rowntree, who also wanted to put Archie at the centre of a £30,000 sales campaign. However, Brough remained with the BBC out of loyalty. For the 1950s generation, the jaunty theme tune of Hancock’s Half Hour (1954–59) evokes the unfulfilled, pompous, gullible, social- climbing, eponymous lead character. The show’s scriptwriters, Ray Galton and Alan Simpson, had been brought to Gale Pedrick’s attention in 1951 and would become household names. Their topical and observational scripts together with the production skills of the co-originator of the programme Dennis Main Wilson, transformed Tony Hancock from a medio- cre comedian to arguably the greatest comic genius of his time. He had served his apprenticeship on radio with appearances in Variety Bandbox, a show which introduced many new artists, and Workers’ Playtime, where his scripts were written by Galton and Simpson, before establishing himself in Educating Archie. The key creative people for Hancock’s Half Hour were brought together towards the end of Derek Roy’s short-lived Happy Go Lucky programme. They wanted to build the new show around situations and characters rather than gags and silly voices – although they later admitted that the latter was never achieved – and the action was set principally at what became the nation’s most famous address, 23 Railway Cuttings East Cheam. Hancock was aided and abetted at various times by Sidney James, Bill Kerr, Kenneth Williams and Hattie Jacques among others. The programme ran without musical interludes to break up the narrative and some episodes were based on parodies of plays or contemporary 202 M. DIBBS films rather than Hancock’s exploits. Between 1956 and 1961 the programme was unique in running on both radio and television although not concurrently and not in identical versions. The popularity of the show brought its own problems with studio audiences and Dennis Main Wilson discovered:

This series has been the first occasion in which I have had to ask my Studio Manager to hold the audience laughter down – and with some of the mad hysterical fan audiences we have had, this has often proved extremely difficult…I have been telling audiences that while we welcome their happy laughter, we want neither applause nor hysteria after gags.71

The audience for the show reached its maximum of 7.14 million during 1955–56, thereafter it gradually diminished to 3.36 million between January and June 1958.72 However, this decline had little to do with the quality of the programme, rather it was symptomatic of the general decline in the radio audience and the growing popularity of television. Galton and Simpson wrote exclusively for Hancock until he terminated their relationship in 1961. The Goon Show (1951–60), was originally entitled Crazy People and featured Michael Bentine, Spike Milligan, Harry Secombe, and Peter Sellers, although Bentine left the programme at the end of the second series in July 1952. An early influence was Jimmy Grafton, a scriptwriter and pub- lican who owned the ‘Grafton Arms’ in London’s Victoria – a meeting place for actors, scriptwriters and producers. He gave them a great deal of encouragement, recorded some of their material, took it to Variety producer Roy Speer and arranged for a BBC audition. Grafton became the script editor for the first three series of the programme. The pilot show produced by Jacques Brown was rejected by the BBC programme planners. A second, made by producer Pat Dixon was successful and led to its commissioning. During the third series the format, which originally comprised a number of short, unrelated sketches separated by musical interludes, was gradually altered to feature a single plot. This was interspersed with musical items from Max Geldray (harmonica) and the Ray Ellington Quartet, with Ellington often taking small speaking parts. The programme, often with bizarre titles such as Through the Sound Barrier in an Airing Cupboard (22 February 1954) and The Dreaded Batter Pudding Hurler (of Bexhill-on-Sea) (12 October 1954), thrived on surreal situations and well-developed characters. The use of sound effects, frequently 1945–1955: A GOLDEN AGE FOR RADIO COMEDY 203 explosions, were an integral part of each episode. Disagreements, particularly between Milligan and Sellers, were not uncommon. In January 1956 Sellers stated that he never wanted to be associated with the show again although by the next month he was ready to return. The production could verge on the anarchic and there were frequent difficulties particularly when Milligan, the principal scriptwriter, suffered bouts of mental illness which kept him out of the show. As a result additional scriptwriters contributed to the programme, including John Antrobus, Larry Stephens, Eric Sykes and Maurice Wiltshire. The series also had a number of producers which included John Browell, Charles Chilton, Tom Ronald and Roy Speer. Under Peter Eton, programmes became more organised with a rec- ognisable plot line and denouement. While quickly acquiring cult status the programme attracted lower audiences than many comedy programmes with an average of five per cent for the 1953–54 series and eight to nine per cent for 1954–55. An AI consistently in the 60s was not unusual for the programme throughout its life. The final series finished in January 1960 after which Milligan, Secombe and Sellers pursued individual careers. The Variety Department was also responsible for the weekly popular science-fiction drama Journey into Space (1953–59), the BBC’s response to Luxembourg’s space serial Dan Dare. The programme, which tapped into the post-war interest in the possibility of space travel, was devised and produced by Charles Chilton and had been included with a number of proposals he had submitted to Michael Standing. Chilton researched his subject thoroughly even to the extent of building a small observatory in his garden. Three series were made, Operation Luna (1953), The Red Planet (1954) and The World in Peril (1955). There were four key characters in the crew of the space ship Luna: Jet Morgan, the ‘stiff upper-lip type’ commander, Mitch the astronomical engineer, a tough, argumenta- tive Australian, Doc, an American cosmologist who had a calming and rational influence on events and Lemmy, the cockney radio operator who Chiltern based on himself. While he thought that the Lemmy character would be unlikely to be chosen for such a mission, he felt there ‘…needed somebody in the crew to represent the ignorant listener – to ask the kind of questions the listener would want to ask and to introduce some humour’.73 He explained that he never knew what was going to happen in the series from one week to the next and that he only started to write each weekly episode on the Friday or Saturday before the Sunday recording for Monday transmission. He would often be completing the last part of the week’s episode as the first part was being recorded in the studio next 204 M. DIBBS door.74 Chilton’s programme was popular and was used in advertising campaigns for Bev coffee and Zing ballpoint pens. Each series of Journey Into Space became the basis of a novel and a comic strip version of appeared in the Daily Express’s publication the Express Super Colour Weekly. The programme also brought to the wider attention of the radio audience the names of its stars, at various times Alfie Bass, Andrew Faulds (later a Labour MP), David Jacobs and David Kossoff. The use of specially created sound effects and atmospheric music composed by Van Phillips were essential constituents of the series. Journey Into Space demonstrated that successful programmes from the Variety Department could be informative and did not necessarily have to be predicated on comedy and dance band music. The quiz programme format also became popular at this time when series such as Twenty Questions and Top of the Form – a general knowledge competition for schools – were first broadcast. The BBC was careful not to compromise its public service values by linking competition to financial gain in any of its quiz programmes and ensured that licence payers’ money was not used inappropriately. Programme outcomes were therefore either identified with prestige rather than material gain Round( Britain Quiz) or, where cash prizes were offered, they were generally small, the same for all, and associated with participation rather than winning. Have a Go! was such a programme. While the format originated in America the show was firmly British in character. With its introductory announcement ‘bringing the people to the people’, its presenter Wilfred Pickles wrote:

It was to be a quiz in which I would give money away for correct answers to three or four questions. [John Salt, the programme’s originator, said] “They do a lot of this sort of thing in America…but their stuff comes from the studios. We must get out and about, visit a different place each week…” “And interview ordinary folks” I said. “Ordinary folk most certainly”, John replied.75

The programme was broadcast weekly from different places throughout the country including village halls, works canteens and holiday camps. The quiz element was a means of getting ordinary people to talk and the prize money was relatively low. Everybody seemed to be awarded the same sum irrespective of whether they answered the questions correctly; most of the money was returned at the end of the show for donation to charity. By 1948 the programme was attracting an audience of 54 per cent of the 1945–1955: A GOLDEN AGE FOR RADIO COMEDY 205 adult population, the show was receiving 1,000–1,500 letters per week and 10,000 applications for a programme visit had been made. Pickles commented on the reason for its success, ‘…I felt it was the instinctive simplicity and homeliness of the everyday men and women that gave it strength, vitality and freshness’.76 The programme did not follow a normal production process and after reviewing its format in 1951, Pickles concluded that there could be no fundamental change. He wrote:

There is no plot, no costume, no script, no rehearsals, no impresario, no ‘props’ and, as an old philosopher in Wigan told me, ‘tha’ can’t alter folk!’ And that is just what it would mean; for Have a Go! is made of people, with all their qualities and failings, their hopes, fears, ideas, aspirations and emotions.77

Minor changes were in fact made later and these included retiming the programme to be broadcast live two hours earlier at 7:30 pm for the con- venience of hospital patients and young children who wanted to listen to the programme.

Another Evaluation In June 1952, Michael Standing commissioned the noted writer and theatre critic J.C. Trewin to appraise a typical month’s output of the Variety Department.78 Trewin, while not a natural choice for an evaluation of Variety programmes, was highly regarded in his field and could be relied upon to be objective in his assessment. In his report he censured the predictable nature of some comedy programmes, recognised the tiredness of some scripts and regretted the lack of freshness or a surprise factor in some programmes.79 Take It From Here he found ‘variable’: it could be ‘admirable’ but then ‘…at times it can labour along’. Some of the least rewarding programmes were shows such as Variety Bandbox and Music Hall because they lacked the visual effects inherent in the variety theatre. He commented:

I would suggest a Surprise Week now and again. Is there any reason why one should not find, say, Jimmy Edwards and Eric Barker with the Goons, Michael Bentine with Braden, Ted Ray in Take it From Here? Personally, I cannot repeat too often that it is this element of surprise I miss so much in current Variety; a constant shuffling and freshening, a feeling among listeners that they can never tell what’s coming next. 206 M. DIBBS

Conversely he praised programmes such as Bedtime With Braden for its ‘topical awareness’, Just Fancy ‘with the wit and invention of intimate review’ and was surprised that Variety had been so adventurous with The Goon Show. These programmes worked because they could only be produced on radio: ‘… all these programmes are full of ideas … and they give what radio Variety never ceases to need: nonsense humour with an edge’. On the Department’s musical output, while he regretted the passing of the musical, revue and cabaret, so common in Eric Maschwitz’s time, he praised the ‘pleasant approach’ of Oscar Rabin’s Dance Band, the ‘mas- terly calmness’ of Sandy Macpherson and the ‘forthright style’ of disc jockey Sam Costa. All of these programmes were ‘balanced and unpreten- tious’ and a contrast to ‘high powered presentation’. While the Department’s output was not without its faults, Trewin’s assessment was largely positive as he summarised his thoughts:

I found [a] sparkle more often than I had imagined. Indeed, day after day in variety shows, band programmes, organ and piano recitals, record programmes, the amount of genuine skill and verbal resource surprised me. There were soggy passages, flops, errors unavoidable in so vast a body of material; but at the end of the month I knew that the Variety Department was doing an uncommonly good job on a scale still not wholly realised.

Michael Standing was pleased with the report’s conclusions. As an out- sider, Trewin had raised issues which were well-known to Standing who was only too aware of the Variety Department’s strengths and weaknesses. While it could provide innovative and appealing radio programmes, it needed to meet competition from Luxembourg and television head-on. Just as sound broadcasting would not be a match for moving pictures, these programmes, despite their quality, could not sustain radio audience numbers.

That Old Familiar Tune For some time things had not been going well within the Variety Department’s Dance Music Section. Its Organiser, Dorothy ‘Tawny’ Neilson, formerly Recording Manager for Decca Records, although highly regarded in terms of experience and capability in the dance band field, had been spending a disproportionate amount of her time on productions to the detriment of the efficient administration of the Section. Standing had 1945–1955: A GOLDEN AGE FOR RADIO COMEDY 207 written to her in February 1948 in no uncertain terms about the deterio- rating situation, particularly complaining about the scant attention she paid to bandleaders’ letters and telephone calls, her cursory consideration of BBC internal communications and failure to adequately supervise the section. C.J. (Con) Mahoney, Standing’s assistant, was also concerned about the uneasy state of affairs within the Dance Music Section and set out his thoughts in a confidential memo:

In some cases producers know little about a show until their arrival in the studio for rehearsals and generally have little idea of the events leading up to a production having not taken any part in the planning stage. Morale is extremely low amongst them and consequently little creative thought is devoted to their work. D[ance] M[usic] O[rganiser] is very ‘cagey’ about Dance Music affairs and producers complain about being left ‘out of the picture’. Common business practice such as the acknowledgement of memos or the sending of written confirmations is not indulged in…I am afraid that in the event of a sudden departure by D.M.O. it would take some time to pick up the threads.80

Following a meeting between Standing and Neilson in March 1948, Standing set out his thoughts to the Controller (Entertainment). Neilson, who had originally been employed as a producer rather than an administrator, was reluctant to give up most of her production work in order to revert to a purely managerial role. On this basis he felt that while she had made a notable contribution to the BBC in the dance band field, she was the wrong person for the post. Standing’s solution was that, in May 1948, the Dance Music Section ceased to be a wholly autonomous production unit and was absorbed into the mainstream of the Variety Department.81 Years later Michael Standing commented that while song-plugging was contained after this episode, it was easy to understand why some low-paid producers might have acted naively:

It was often very difficult for them to resist what seemed to be a perfectly friendly offer, a loan for this, a holiday there – and occasionally things went wrong. I don’t believe there was so much actual corruption, but in the odd cases that did come to my notice one saw unfold a story of fatuous stupidity.82

To help ease over-work within the Department, former Australian dance band leader J.H. (Jim) Davidson was appointed to the new post of 208 M. DIBBS

Assistant Head of Variety with responsibility for the musical aspects of Variety programmes, all Variety orchestras and the Revue Chorus. Initially Davidson found that dance music programmes were in the doldrums. He wrote, ‘… my first impression was of the “sameness” of a large percentage of the dance music output. The programmes seemed to lack balance and the sequence of numbers often appeared pointless’.83 Davidson set out to change the situation by highlighting the musical strengths of individual top broadcasting bands in order to provide a particular atmosphere or sense of place. Two of the most popular dance band programmes had different functions. BBC Dancing Club had a practical purpose and offered a backward glance to the days when listeners danced at home to the radio. Victor Silvester began the programme with a ten-minute dancing lesson which was followed by 30 minutes of dance music for the audience to practice what had been taught. By contrast The Billy Cotton Band Show (1949–68), was a programme of comedy and musical entertainment based around a dance band. The raucous introduction of ‘wakey wakey!’ followed by the signature tune ‘Somebody Stole My Girl’ heralded a lively programme fronted by Cotton in a friendly and informal style, which regularly attracted an average of between 23 and 27 per cent of the radio audience as well as an AI in the mid-60s. Although the programme was sometimes criticised for being rowdy, it came to be regarded as much a part of the British Sunday as the traditional roast dinner for a generation of listeners. As a measure of the Corporation’s commitment to dance music the BBC Show Band was formed in 1952 although it was neither a dance band nor an accompaniment to variety shows. Instead its purpose was as to entertain by providing the highest quality popular music. In 1954, reflecting the resurgence in the popularity of ballroom dancing, estimated to be the second largest industry in entertainment, the BBC offered dance music broadcasts five nights a week. The following year the Corporation promoted the first of a series of annual festivals of dance music from the Royal Albert Hall which featured the best of British bands, instrumentalists and singers performing a broad spectrum of dance music styles currently in vogue. However, 1956 was the year which would mark the beginning of a change in the direction of popular music, a change the BBC would initially resist. This period also marked the rise in the number and popularity of record request programmes. Many of their presenters such as Sam Costa, David Jacobs and Jack Jackson, with their friendly chat in between records, 1945–1955: A GOLDEN AGE FOR RADIO COMEDY 209 quickly became household names. Such programmes created a community with their audiences who could maintain contact with family and friends. Housewives’ Choice (1946–67) for example, was immediately popular. A weekly postbag of 3,000 requests would be distilled down to five daily programmes of 13 to 14 records introduced by a different personality every week. Radio Times described it as being:

friendly, intimate, cheery. It caters for all tastes; each succeeding record is a surprise, and it is this ‘lucky dip’ characteristic that magnetises the listener’s ear. She dare not switch off for fear of missing a favourite record or artist.84

The programme quickly gained an audience of 6 million every morning to become part of the social fabric for women at home. Radio Times continued,

‘This is our programme’ say the housewives, ‘designed exclusively for us. We are a sort of club, a fellowship, a freemasonry, linked together by our own morning programme from the BBC’.

Some women would send in their requests painted, embroidered, illustrated with cartoons or written in verse. The programme was introduced by the shuffling rhythm of Jack Strachey’s cheerfulIn A Party Mood which is often used to evoke a sense of Britain during this period.

All that Jazz The position of jazz on radio had improved considerably from its pre-war pariah status. The BBC continued to give jazz a platform albeit a small one, which included Roundabout for Swing, a monthly column in Radio Times on jazz and dance music contributed by jazz specialist Rex Harris. Radio Rhythm Club was still active although it was replaced by The Jazz Club (later Jazz Club) which began on 1 March 1947. The programme served as a showcase for British traditional and modern jazz bands and was intended to present various aspects of jazz. The 30-minute programme was broadcast on Saturday evenings and produced by jazz enthusiast Mark White. There was however, continued pressure from outside and inside the BBC to increase the amount of recorded jazz on radio. In September 1948 Leslie Perowne, who had been one of the few voices of genuine authority on jazz within the BBC before the war, while welcoming Jazz Club, 210 M. DIBBS thought that the British jazz aficionado was being denied access to the American genuine article. With the acquiescence of Anna Instone, Head of Gramophone Record Programmes, he pushed for a weekly programme on American recorded jazz based on the pre-war Kings of Jazz programme.85 In May 1949 Johnnie Stewart, the producer of Jazz Club, felt that a single half-hour a week was insufficient time for a genre with a steadily growing following. As it was live and featured mainly British musicians he suggested an additional half-hour programme a week of recorded American jazz. In July 1949 Michael Standing received a deputation from the National Federation of Jazz Clubs seeking more jazz on radio. This was rejected for two reasons: firstly, it was difficult to find British musicians to fill the slot provided by Jazz Club and secondly that a further programme of recorded jazz was unlikely because of a reducing amount of ‘needle-time’ (i.e. weekly time permitted for playing gramophone records) available. During this period the jazz world was divided along sectarian lines into traditionalists and modernists, each of whom were hostile to the other’s tastes. Radio Times reported that it was impossible for the BBC to please either side without being criticised:

Well, we have stirred up plenty of controversy. Every time we do a Dixieland session the be-bop fans slate us for being out of date, and when we do a be- bop session the Dixie boys set on us for playing ‘meaningless modern rubbish’.86

The traditionalists would have welcomed John Foreman, the incoming producer of Jazz Club and a hard-line traditionalist himself, who had definite views on the way that the programme would develop under his stewardship:

There will be no modernists on ‘Jazz Club’…The music I know as jazz comes from the heart, not the mind. I intend ‘Jazz Club’ to present the real thing with a real beat. There will be no bop and no progressive music.87

This attracted much protest. Jazz promoter Jim Godbolt, himself a staunch traditionalist, objected to Foreman’s stance on the grounds that the BBC not only had a public duty of impartiality in artistic matters but also that this amounted to discrimination against modernists. He also voiced concern that the pendulum could swing the other way with a change of producer. Foreman’s tenure only lasted a few months. However, 1945–1955: A GOLDEN AGE FOR RADIO COMEDY 211 during this time and in response to vociferous protest from modernists, Jazz Club was extended by 20 minutes to include a section featuring British modern jazz (‘Jazz for Moderns’). Audiences for the programme were never large, but even as a minority interest the music could still have considerable impact on mainstream popular music. In 1953 Donald MacLean, then producer of Jazz Club, suggested that the influence of the programme extended beyond its jazz-loving audience and that the music would eventually come to have a direct bearing on popular music.88 Just how far attitudes towards jazz had moved at the BBC can be illustrated by the inclusion in Jazz Club in 1953 of the American band leader Stan Kenton and his pioneering progressive big band, which was enjoying great popularity in Europe. To facilitate his appearance, not only was it agreed that the programme be extended by 15 minutes but the BBC made available scarce US dollars to finance the show. A double-page publicity spread also appeared in Radio Times. This would never have happened before the war.89

Not to Be Broadcast Throughout this period, censorship of popular music remained the responsibility of the Dance Music Policy Committee (DMPC) whose function was summarised as being:

the filter through which new popular songs are passed into the broadcasting repertoire excluding only those which in one respect or another contravene known Corporation policy.90

The Committee met regularly in order to pronounce on the suitability for broadcasting of gramophone records and sheet music and its decisions were made known through regular banning notices. The official view was that the Committee served as an instrument of policy rather than as a judge of artistic content, although this was disingenuous when a catch-all proviso enabled bans to be carried out on grounds of musical literacy and lyrical content. Prohibition notices were issued following meetings of the Committee. The notice for 9 October 1945 included Symphony which, although passed for broadcasting could not be sung in French and Song of the Rhineland which could not be broadcast without prior reference to the Director of Variety. Songs were banned if they hinted at sex or drink – accordingly In Paree it’s Love, Please Do it Again and Seven Beers with the 212 M. DIBBS

Wrong Woman were on the proscribed list for 3 September 1945. The Old Bazaar in Cairo, The Two Old Maids in a Folding Bed and The Sheik of Araby were banned in 1948. Occasionally mistakes were deemed to have been made and in January 1948 Where is my Sunday Potato? was reinstated for broadcasting as it was then considered that bans for political reasons were undesirable. For songs considered inappropriate for broadcasting on religious grounds, the Committee took advice from Rev. F.H. House, Head of Religious Broadcasting. Up to 1953, a number of songs had been banned on this basis and included, Light a Candle in the Chapel (1947), described as ‘so nauseatingly sentimental that it debases the Christian religion’, God Bless the Child (1951), ‘unsuitable for broadcasting’ and Answer Me (1953), which was regarded as making ‘a sentimental mockery of Christian prayer’. Sometimes a ban could lead to protracted correspondence, telephone calls and meetings with music publishers, record companies or artists’ managements. In the case of Answer Me, House, having discussed the song with the singer’s representative, remained unconvinced of the innocuous nature of the song and wrote to the Head of Gramophone Programmes to say so:

It is conceivable that a disappointed lover might sincerely utter such a prayer, if he was totally ignorant of the real nature of prayer; but the total impression given, and especially the line “Lord, let her hear my prayer”, give a wholly wrong impression of what prayer is, and the strongly ‘popular’ presentation with its dramatic underlining of emotions would certainly increase the effect of the piece on uninstructed listeners.91

Although banned, the song managed to slip through the net as the sheet music was passed by the DMPC, meaning that it was on occasion performed. Subsequently Michael Standing intervened to prevent it from being broadcast. A month later, following a meeting between Standing, by now Controller of Entertainment and Rev. House, more detailed guidance was given where popular songs contained a religious reference. Firstly, if a slight or incidental religious element was present, provided it was in all other respects inoffensive then the song could be passed without restriction. Secondly, where the religious element formed an essential part of the lyric, it would be dealt with in one of two ways. Songs with lyrics which were judged to be in accordance with Christian teaching and considered innocuous if sung in a straightforward manner would normally be 1945–1955: A GOLDEN AGE FOR RADIO COMEDY 213 passed with restriction depending on the type of singer and the song’s context within the programme. However, where songs whose lyrics were deemed to be inconsistent with Christian teaching, for example taking God’s name in vain, encouraging false ideas of Christianity or prayer, or commercially exploiting religious feeling, would not be broadcast. However, instrumental versions would be allowed.92 Jazzing the classics continued to irritate senior management, in particular the Music Department, who lamented the perceived decline in the nation’s musical tastes and were not quite ready to adopt a more liberal approach:

The progressive vulgarisation has reached a stage, often with our own collusion, or at least, connivance, that it would be difficult to lay down hard and fast rules. I still think, however, that we should do well to hold on to some standard of artistic decency.93

When adjudicating on classical adaptations, the Music Department, intent on preserving the sanctity of classical music, used violation of artistic integrity as a rationale to justify rejection. Exceptions to the policy could be made which might appear to be arbitrary to a popular music publisher but, so far as the BBC was concerned, publishers of popular songs were not best placed to decide either what constituted a classic or what reached the ears of the audience. Music publishers challenged many of the decisions of the DMPC, generally in vain. A few examples will illustrate the point. Song of the Forest, based on the traditional song Greensleeves, was the subject of a protracted correspondence between the BBC and its publisher. The song was banned by the Committee because it was regarded as a traditional tune with a particular significance which would be under- mined if it were to be arranged for a dance band.94 This reason was clearly unacceptable to the publishers who persisted with their case and it eventually fell to Herbert Murrill, Head of Music, to put matters to rest technically and lyrically:

The character of ‘Greensleeves’ is quite clearly that of a sustained and flow- ing melody in 6/8 time with a recurrent rhythmic figure, based upon a dotted note, giving point and lightness to the whole. To transform this into a waltz is to double the number of bars, and consequently the number of accents, and thus to completely to change the character of the melody. Further to smooth out the dotted rhythm into equal quavers or crotchets seems to me to rob the melody of most of its point and a great deal of its 214 M. DIBBS

charm…So far as the lyric is concerned, we could not ignore the fact that ‘Greensleeves’ is traditionally associated with a set of verses dating at least from the sixteenth century, and normally we would wish to preserve the association of the melody with these words.95

The Ted Heath Orchestra fell foul of the Committee on a number of occasions during the 1950s due to its transgressions. Barber Shop Jump, based on a theme from Rossini’s ‘The Barber of Seville’ was banned. Heath’s representative argued his case that the only true classical composers were Beethoven, Bach, Handel, Chopin, Schubert, Mozart and Hayden. Anna Instone, Head of Gramophone Programmes, pounced on this and replied smugly:

I find your list of classics very selective. You include Chopin, but neither Mendelssohn nor Brahms. And was it not Beethoven himself who told Rossini to compose more ‘Barbers’?96

The ban stood, despite Heath’s representatives continued complaints. Mario Lanza’s The Song Angels Sing (1953) had been broadcast on many occasions before it was eventually banned because of its similarity to part of Brahms’ Third Symphony. The music from Kismet, particularly the hit tunes Stranger in Paradise and Baubles, Bangles and Beads based on themes by Borodin, despite being a successful Broadway and West End musical, generated much correspondence with the publisher but was prohibited. It was not unknown for the BBC to employ creative means in the pursuance of policy. One BBC executive wrote gleefully:

I recall that two or three years ago [Anna Instone] gave us much comfort when she told me that when correspondents asked for “Kismet” she frequently put on records of the Prince Igor Dances and the slow movement of the String Quartet.97

Khachaturian’s Sabre Dance was one of the few ‘jazzings’ to elude the ban. Even where a copyright owner had authorised an adaptation, while the BBC could not keep it off the air, it could certainly delay matters, as Richard Howgill, Controller of Music, indicated:

it is not for us to take the definite line of keeping it off the air but I have given instructions when necessary for a go-slow policy with a view to preventing the really nauseating interpretations and over-exploitation. The particular example of this is the Borodin music adapted to ‘Kismet’.98 1945–1955: A GOLDEN AGE FOR RADIO COMEDY 215

He gave the impression of more laxity with the policy of jazzing the classics:

I have endeavoured to interpret this policy in a liberal way. Where a tune has been based on what everyone knows to be a classical work by one of the great masters, it has been banned from broadcasting. I have, however made exceptions even in the case of works by such composers when I have not considered them to be actual classics, e.g. one of Schumann’s children’s pieces, a hackneyed and traditionally guyed song from early Verdi, etc.

Howgill was sceptical of the theory that jazzing the classics would encourage listeners to seek out the real thing and he tended towards the view that relaxation of the policy would simply encourage writers of popular songs to steal even more classical themes. Therefore, the policy had to remain unchanged.99

The Inevitability of Change Haley, like Reith, disapproved of television. He thought it would provide too much entertainment and would encourage laziness in viewing, rather than the mental engagement and selectivity required for radio. Immediately after the war Haley’s focus was on bringing the Third Programme to frui- tion. Radio remained his priority and for the first ten years after the war, radio remained the most popular form of domestic entertainment. When television resumed in 1946 its expansion was kept in check; investment was minimal and Haley refused to sanction quantitative research on the television audience. Producer Grace Wyndham Goldie was concerned about the limited status accorded to television by some staff at the BBC for whom radio remained the senior service and television an insignificant partner. She wrote of them:

they had no knowledge of how to present either entertainment or information in vision, nor any experience of handling visual material. Moreover, most of them distrusted the visual; they associated vision with the movies and the music hall and were afraid that the high purposes of the Corporation would be trivialised by the influence of those concerned with what could be transmitted in visual terms.100

Distrust of television dated back to pre-war days when an element within the BBC believed that it would demean the ethos of public service 216 M. DIBBS broadcasting. Television was regarded as an upstart service and as a method of providing people with inconsequential entertainment. For a few years after the war television programmes seemed to follow a similar trajectory to those of early radio with its educative and informative role:

Television took you round a glass-blowing works at 8 pm and alternated Pouishnoff and Terry-Thomas because it believed it was its duty to bring to the audience the best of everything that could be brought.101

Brian Willey, a BBC popular music producer who, as an 18-year old, had presented a programme for a youth audience on television as far back as 1946, recalled:

[Radio] eventually became the poor relation of course but no one could believe it at the time it began that it could ever happen. Television was ter- ribly expensive, the pictures weren’t very good and the programmes were rather awful but it grew, particularly when ITV started up.102

BBC television began to make its mark in the early 1950s, before the arrival of commercial competition and at a time when the BBC’s focus was on how its television service would compete with radio. The public became as fascinated with television as the previous generation had been with radio. It was, for a time at least, prepared to accept programmes of a prosaic nature. Radio’s role as the dominant broadcasting medium was expected to lessen. This became apparent following the Coronation broadcast of 1953 which demonstrated the capabilities and potential of television and was further boosted by the arrival of commercial television two years later. Both these events stimulated the public’s demand for this expanding medium as the availability of rental sets and the growth of hire purchase and falling prices enabled television to come within the grasp of an increasing proportion of the population. With the austerity of war and post-war years fading into the distance and the last vestiges of rationing drawing to a close, there was a developing demand for consumer goods with television becoming a symbol of affluence. By 1952, the mood within the BBC had changed and it was recognised that television should be prioritised over radio. Following the arrival of the new pro-television Director-General, Sir Ian Jacob that year, investment in television increased by 75 per cent between 1953 and 1956 from £4 million to £7 million, while spending on radio increased 1945–1955: A GOLDEN AGE FOR RADIO COMEDY 217 from 9.4 million to 10.9 million – only 16 per cent. During the same period, television output increased by 26 per cent from 2,083 to 2,629 hours while total radio output remained relatively static at around 20,000 programme hours annually. Programme costs for television rose from £703 to £1,122 per hour while radio’s hourly production costs increased by a modest £28 reflecting televisions greater demands on staff and equipment.103 The BBC was prepared to invest in programmes not only because of the growing popularity of television but also because of the need to compete effectively with its commercial rival. In 1945 the number of wireless licences issued rose from 9,710,230 to a peak of 11,875,566 in 1950; thereafter they declined.104 This was accompanied by an increase in the sales of the combined sound and television licence from 343,882 to 2,142,452 during the Coronation year and more than doubled again to 4,503,766 by 1955.105 Commercial television, when it arrived in 1955, would provide a huge boost for the medium’s popularity but there would be consequences for both BBC television and radio. As far as radio was concerned, the danger would be that if it were to be reduced too quickly, it would provide an opportunity for commercial radio to step into the breach.106 However, while the BBC needed to plan in order to meet the competition head-on, its focus remained on how sound broadcasting would fit with its television service.

The Light Goes ‘Heavy’ After the war the BBC continued to pursue its policy of cultural improvement and gradually adjusted the programme balance of the Light Programme to reflect this. The Light’s popularity depended on its Variety content which helped support the more serious items carried by the network. However, between 1945 and 1948, Variety programmes declined from 17.9 to 9.5 per cent as a proportion of the network’s output. This was accompanied by a corresponding increase from 9.5 to 17.6 per cent in spoken word content, which included not only talks, readings, features, serials and thrillers but serious drama series such as Curtain Up! and The Pleasure’s Mine, a programme of poetry reading with Wilfred Pickles. The amount of serious music on the Light Programme crept up by 40 per cent over the same period largely through an increase in the numbers of orchestral concerts from 59 in 1945 to 104 in 1949 aided by the broadcast of the Saturday night concert, Composer of the Month and the series Come to the 218 M. DIBBS

Table 5.3 BBC Light Programme: schedule for Tuesday, 11 October 1949

Time Programme details

9:00 p.m. News 9:10 Housewives’ Choice introduced by Dennis Vance 10:00 Ulster Rhythm: Joseph Seal at the organ Ritz Cinema, Belfast 10:30 Plain English: getting at the facts. How can I find out? 10:45 Mid-Morning Story 11:00 Switzerland Calling (Light music from Zurich) 11:45 Mrs. Dale’s Diary 12:00 noon Rendezvous in Hawaii (A.P. Sharpe’s Honolulu Hawaiians) 12:30 p.m. Concert Hour: BBC Welsh Orchestra 1:15 Souvenirs of Music (Augmented BBC Revue Orchestra) 2:00 Woman’s Hour 3:00 Music for the Housewife 3:30 Music While You Work (Harry Leader and his Band) 4:00 Mrs. Dale’s Diary 4:15 Music at Teatime: the Pavilion Players 4:45 At Your Request: Sandy Macpherson at the BBC theatre organ 5:15 On the Sweeter Side: (The Harold Smart Quintet) 5:45 Anglo-American Band Exchange 6:15 Music While You work 6:45 Dick Barton-Special Agent 7:00 News and Radio Newsreel 7:25 Sport 7:30 Round the Halls (Stars of Manxland) 8:00 Joy Nichols, Dick Bentley and Jimmy Edwards in Take it From Here 8:30 Curtain Up! ‘The Roof’ by John Galsworthy 10:00 News 10:15 Topic For Tonight 10:20 Take Your Partners (The Sidney Thompson Olde Tyme Dance Orchestra) 11:00 A Book at Bedtime: ‘The Adventures of Tom Sawyer’ by Mark Twain 11:15 Dream Prelude: The Raeburn Orchestra 11:56 News Summary Midnight Close Down

Source: Compiled from RT 1356, 11 October 1949, 25 and 27

Opera! Table 5.3 gives a typical day’s programming on the Light Programme at this time. The inclusion of more earnest material was not lost on Dennis Morris, the Midland Regional Director and later Head of the Light Programme. In 1954, he acknowledged the wider reasons for the fall in audience numbers – expanding leisure time as well as other opportunities for 1945–1955: A GOLDEN AGE FOR RADIO COMEDY 219 entertainment outside the home. He suggested that the problem might be partially of the BBC’s own making and hinted indirectly that Haley’s cherished Cultural Pyramid lay at the root of the problem:

the Home and Light Programme have, in fact, each become more high brow more quickly than have those to whom the programmes have been addressed…if you look back on Light and Home Service broadcasting immediately after the war you will find that the general pattern is slightly more serious – particularly in the Light Programme – whilst, very often, the contents make greater demands on the listener’s capacity, particularly in music and feature programmes. I do not say this is bad, but I do believe that this is true.107

He revisited his argument ten months later, suggesting that the Corporation had spent too much time considering how radio would compete with television and highlighting the threat from Radio Luxembourg. Morris considered the Light Programme to be ‘10, 15 or 20 per cent more serious … than it was eight years ago’. If the Home Service had also become more serious then:

it would account for the other enemy – Luxembourg – coming in and taking a very large percentage of people who are unwilling to make the intellectual effort that a slightly more difficult programme demands of them.108

The Light Programme remained more popular than the Home Service, but BBC output was regarded by many listeners as being in general too serious. Kenneth Bird, the Midland Region Information Officer who gave external talks about the BBC, reported that at four recent events there were complaints about the over-intellectual content of the Home Service. Third Programme listeners could resort to lighter fare but the ordinary listener who didn’t want to hear a particular variety programme only had recourse to symphony concerts, recitals or intellectual discussions. One strand of opinion was that the BBC had lost touch with its audience with its provision of ‘culture in large lumps’. What was needed was ‘good light music “snappily presented” and dance bands’, otherwise the only alternative for the dissatisfied listener was Radio Luxembourg. Luxembourg’s content in the early 1950s was considerably lighter than that of the Light Programme and included quiz and talent shows and record programmes. In 1951, a BBC report into Radio Luxembourg’s programmes by Charles 220 M. DIBBS

Brewer, former Assistant Director of Variety, judged the station’s overall standard as low. While Luxembourg’s Sunday evening programmes were stronger than their weekday offerings, they were not up to their pre-war level and reception could be variable. However, there were some programmes which Brewer regarded as providing serious competition. These were Portrait of a Star (a short variety programme), Hollywood Calling (brief interviews with film stars),Dan Dare, a science fiction programme which was considered to be the most intelligent offering on the station and those featuring Gracie Fields and Vera Lynn. Brewer dismissed Radio Luxembourg as appealing only to the lesser-educated, a younger audience whose needs were not being met by the BBC and ‘lonely, simple folk’ whose emotional requirements were met by religious programmes and ‘old time melodies’. The report concluded that the BBC had nothing to fear if Luxembourg’s current standards were maintained but if more good light music rather than the usual diet of dance band tunes was offered together with, ‘more obvious thought, new ideas and humour’ then Luxembourg might pose a threat.109 The Chief Assistant (Light Programme) J.A. Camacho took a more realistic view:

it is not enough to say that Luxembourg listeners are a moronic fringe of low tastes, standards and intellect; even if it were true … it does not absolve the Corporation from the responsibility from providing a satisfactory sound service for what is clearly a substantial proportion of the population.110

Luxembourg had the distinct advantage of not being limited to the number of records it could play, as record companies could buy time on the station to advertise their latest releases. With radio audiences beginning to decline, as Table 5.4 shows, those for Luxembourg were holding

Table 5.4 Average listening audience in Britain Feb. 1952–Feb. 1954

Feb. 1952 Nov. 1952 Feb. 1953 Nov. 1953 Feb. 1954

Radio Luxembourg 3.5 4.8 3.3 4.8 4.8 BBC Home Service 8.3 6.9 6.4 5.3 5.0 BBC Light Programme 13.2 13.6 13.4 12.2 13.2 BBC Third Programme 0.2 0.2 0.1 0.1 0.1 BBC Totals 22.7 20.7 19.9 17.6 18.3

Note: Figures shown are as a percentage of the adult population in Britain Source: BBC WAC R5/87/1, LR54/555 Listening to Radio Luxembourg, 1 April 1954 1945–1955: A GOLDEN AGE FOR RADIO COMEDY 221 up well. The Audience Research Department argued that there was no evidence to support the notion that the BBC audience was being eroded by the growth of Luxembourg. What was more likely was that the commercial station was attracting an audience for which the BBC was not catering and had already lost.111 In 1954 Pat Hillyard, who had succeeded Michael Standing as Head of Variety, attributed BBC radio’s declining audiences principally to television and to a lesser extent Radio Luxembourg, with its ability to tap into and appeal to a younger audience through its informal presentation style. His theory was that the loss of a potential audience was due in part to national servicemen becoming Luxembourg listeners when serving abroad, a habit which stayed with them when they reverted to civilian life once again.112 From the mid-1950s, Luxembourg claimed that not only was it winning the battle for the Sunday audience but that its weekday audience was larger than that of the Home Service.

Variety Holds Its Own The arrival of commercial television on 22 September 1955 provided additional competition to both radio and BBC television: competition which would increase as coverage by the independent sector expanded across the country. The public now had a choice of viewing as increasing numbers began to look to television as their prime source of evening domestic entertainment. However, ITV’s opening night was blighted by 9.4 million listeners tuning in to The Archers to hear of the dramatic death of Grace Archer in a stable fire. What the incident demonstrated was that, despite the increasing popularity of television, radio remained capable of drawing large audiences for popular programmes. Scriptwriters were also being seduced by television’s potential and glamour. As early as 1951 Eric Barker, an established and successful writer for radio predicted:

The comedy radio show is a dying art … I am afraid I cannot see the radio script writer ever again enjoying the same scope as he does today. Even now we write with one eye on television, which promises the same insatiable appetite as its sire; for we thrive on this appetite…. Here then is my recipe for a long radio run – write what you want to write … and go on doing it until it ceases to be a pleasure, then stop. And all of this … must be considered in the light of the growing interest in television, and the difficulty in rousing the last vestige of enthusiasm that remains for radio.113 222 M. DIBBS

However, key members of BBC management concerned with radio light entertainment remained positive. Pat Hillyard, was convinced that radio had a bright future which would be predicated on developing programmes to stimulate the listeners’ imagination. He wrote with optimism:

It is more than possible that a new era is beginning in which writers, producers and artists, concerned with broadcasting for the ear alone, will feel a fresh sense of excitement and urgency.114

H. Rooney Pelletier, Controller of the Light Programme, was under no illusion about the enormity of radio’s task in co-existing with television and commercial radio. He welcomed the arrival of television and was confident that the audience would accommodate both media into their daily lives.115 Variety remained hopeful for the future: it was consistently reported at producers’ meetings that its programmes were moving against the trend of declining radio audiences and Appreciation Indices were holding up well. It was important for Variety to cease making programmes which were better on television and to concentrate on those it did best, such as situation comedies and thrillers. Programme makers needed to stay one step ahead of the audience by introducing new programmes which challenged the imagination; by developing the successful ones without waiting for the original ideas to become stale and by discontinuing those which no longer resonated with audiences. Some programmes such as Hancock’s Half Hour and The Billy Cotton Band Show successfully transferred to television while others like Educating Archie failed to make the transition. Ironically, the development of the sit-com on radio prefigured what was to become one of television’s most successful formats but despite creating many successful light entertainment programmes entirely suited to radio, the Variety Department recognised now, as it had done in the 1930s: ‘The best we can hope is that in the wide range of our output many people will find much pleasure and everybody some’.116

Conclusion The years 1945–1955 marked an important period in the development of post-war radio entertainment. In 1945 there were two domestic radio networks with television yet to resume. Variety’s pre-war problems of jazz, crooning and Sunday broadcasting, which had troubled senior 1945–1955: A GOLDEN AGE FOR RADIO COMEDY 223 management, had largely disappeared or had been quietly resolved. Ten years later the BBC was responsible for three domestic radio networks and a television channel in competition with its independent rival. Radio had already passed its peak in terms of programme popularity and audience loyalty. There was a return to the notion of ‘improvement’ of the audience, this time based on a system of three culturally graduated radio networks which, by offering the audience a choice of listening, was hoped would gently nudge them towards more ‘beneficial’ listening. This was accompanied by a renewal of the BBC’s anti-American stance in popular music and light entertainment together with a determination to maintain standards of propriety in programmes. The significant achievement of the Department at this time was the development of the radio comedy series, in particular the situation comedy. This resulted in a wide range of highly successful and memorable comedy programmes and the period proved to be the golden age for radio comedy. While the Light Programme became more serious in terms of programme content, Radio Luxembourg re- emerged as a competitor. Increasing leisure pursuits outside the home and television began to contribute to the decline of the radio audience, but for the Variety Department it remained a time of quantitative and qualitative success. Despite the impending decline of sound broadcasting as television began to permanently enter the consciousness of the domestic audience, Variety fared better than other programme-making departments because of its ability to produce popular programmes, many of which carried loyal if dwindling audiences. This pattern was to continue over the next decade.

Notes 1. BBC WAC R34/578/1, G51/46 – The Home Programme Policy of the BBC, 4 July 1946. 2. BBC WAC R34/454/2, n.d. but c. late 1948, early 1949. 3. BBC WAC R34/420, Post-War Programme Set-up, 21 December 1944, revised 23 April 1945. 4. Maurice Gorham, Sound and Fury: Twenty-One Years in the BBC, London, 1948, 161 and 163. 5. BBC WAC R34/421/1, Home Programme Policy, 15 March, 1948. 6. Sir William Haley, The Lewis Fry Memorial Lectures, University of Bristol, 1948. Quoted in Anthony Smith, British Broadcasting, Newton Abbott, 1974, 83–84. 7. BBC WAC R34/420, G.51/46: The Home Policy of the BBC, 4 July 1946. 224 M. DIBBS

8. John Snagge and Michael Barsley, Those Vintage Years of Radio, London, 1972, 57. 9. D.G. Bridson, Prospero and Ariel, the Rise and Fall of Radio: A Personal Recollection, London, 1971, 178–79. 10. Rayner Heppenstall, Portrait of the Artist as a Professional Man, London, 1969, 37. 11. BBC WAC R34/421/1, LR/51/1803, Review of Third Quarter, 1951, 20 November 1951. 12. BBC WAC R13/311/7, The Variety Department, December 1945. 13. The Original Godfathers, BBC Radio 4, 27 March 2007. 14. BBC WAC R34/612, Policy Notes for Programme Staff, 1949. 15. BBC WAC R34/882/6, Report to the Board on Religious Broadcasting, October 1951, 3–4. 16. Billy Cotton, I Did It My Way, London, 1970, 140–42. 17. BBC Year Book 1946, London, 1945, 62–63. 18. BBC WAC R13/311/7, The Variety Department, December 1945. 19. Ibid. 20. Ibid. 21. Michael Standing, ‘Problems of Variety on the Air’, The BBC Quarterly, 3:3 (October 1948), 160. 22. Author’s interview with Donald MacLean, 14 October 2008. 23. Author’s interviews with Brian Willey (8 October 2008), Peter Pilbeam (17 January 2009) and Geoff Lawrence (16 January 2009). 24. Author’s interview with Pat Lawrence, 16 January 2009. 25. BBC WAC R13/108/2, Report on Variety Department 1949 (covering letter) n.d., c. November, 1949. 26. Ibid. Note of a meeting between DG, DHB, DA, C Ent, HV on Thursday January 12 1950, on the Variety Department, 13 January 1950. 27. Author’s interview with John Fawcett Wilson, 13 December 2008. 28. BBC WAC R34/422/3, Evidence Submitted to Working Party on Future of Sound Broadcasting, 4 January 1957. 29. BBC WAC R34/917, Variety Output, 25 March, 1952. These figures are based on sample weeks and exclude programmes for the General Overseas Service. 30. Jack Payne, Signature Tune, London, 1947, 80. 31. BBC WAC R13/372, Policy Censorship: Code, 7 September 1945. 32. BBC WAC R34/292/3, Bawdy, 2 January 1948. 33. Ibid. Lapses in Taste in Programmes, 19 February 1952. 34. BBC WAC R19/1378/6, Minutes of Producers’ Meeting, 1 February 1952. 35. Charles Chilton, Auntie’s Charlie, Coventry, 2011, 193. 36. BBC WAC R19/1007, Ray’s A Laugh, 30 January 1950. 1945–1955: A GOLDEN AGE FOR RADIO COMEDY 225

37. Frank Muir, A Kentish Lad: The Autobiography of Frank Muir, London, 1997, 147–48. 38. Author’s interview with Peter Pilbeam, 17 January 2009. 39. Author’s interview with Bob Colston, 8 October 2008. 40. Author’s interview with Charles Chilton, 17 February 2009. 41. Author’s interview with John Fawcett Wilson, 13 December 2008. 42. BBC WAC R34/420, Americanisation, 26 January 1945. 43. Elkan and Dorotheen Allan, Good Listening: A Survey of Listening, London, 1951, 168. 44. BBC Variety Programmes Policy Guide for Writers and Producers (1948) [The Green Book], 7. 45. Variety producer Charles Chilton was responsible for a number of programmes on American history including Days of ’49 (1949), celebrating the centenary of the Californian gold rush and Riders of the Range (1949–53), a highly successful programme which dealt with aspects of history of the American West in song and story. Its accuracy was such that Chilton was invited to become an honorary Deputy Marshal of Tombstone, Arizona. 46. Radio Times 1453, 14 September 1951, 3. Radio Times is hereafter abbreviated to RT. 47. RT 1541, 22 May 1953, 5. 48. Peter Brough, Educating Archie, London, 1955, 41 and 63. 49. BBC WAC R34/454/3, Americanisation of Programmes, 5 July, 1954. 50. Ibid. 51. Ibid. British Programmes, 30 July, 1954. 52. Ibid. 53. BBC WAC R34/454/2, Chalmers to DG, n.d., c. late 1948. 54. Despite this trend, in April 1946 for example, Music Hall could still attract 33 per cent of the adult listening population and Variety Bandbox 23 per cent. 55. BBC WAC 421/1 New Talent and Ideas, 9 November 1948. 56. RT 1288, 18 June 1948, 2. 57. RT 1322, 11 February 1949, 5; RT 1347, 5 August 1949, 3. 58. RT 1284, 21 May 1948, 3. 59. BBC WAC R13/108/1, Script Section (Variety) Progress Report, 21 October 1948. 60. Correspondence between Bob Colston and the author 28 October 2008. 61. Ibid. Cutting from interview with local press (unidentified and undated). 62. BBC WAC R13/108/3, Encouragement of New Writers, 29 February 1952. 63. BBC WAC R34/421/1, New Talent and Ideas, 9 November 1948. 226 M. DIBBS

64. An earlier, if not the earliest, example of a Variety programme being taken by the Third Programme occurred in October 1947 when the Department’s comic opera Jolly Roger was broadcast. 65. RT 1322, 11 February 1949, 3. 66. RT 1327, 18 March 1949, 3. 67. BBC WAC R19/1007, Evening Standard, 14 April 1950. 68. Quoted in David Nathan, The Laughtermakers: A Quest for Comedy, London, 1971, 29. 69. The Appreciation Index (AI) was the BBC’s qualitative measure of audience satisfaction scored on a five-point scale and measured out of 100. The Appreciation Index later became known as the Reaction Index (RI). 70. Brough, Archie, 106–8 and 132. 71. BBC WAC R19/1678/1, Audience Reaction: Hancock’s Half Hour, 3 January 1956. 72. Quoted in John Fisher, Tony Hancock: The Definitive Biography, London, 2008, 163 and 263–64. 73. Chilton, Auntie’s Charlie, 201. 74. Author’s interview with Charles Chilton, 17 February 2009. This was not a wholly unusual occurrence in the Variety Department. Pat Lawrence, a production secretary at the time, recalls that it was not uncommon for studio audiences to be being kept waiting while backstage, scripts were still being completed. 75. Wilfred Pickles, Between You and Me, London, 1949, 174–83. 76. Ibid., 184. 77. RT 1464, 30 November 1951, 9. 78. John Courtenay Trewin, OBE, (1908–90), theatre critic for The Observer for over 60 years as well as drama columnist for a number of magazines including The Listener and Punch. 79. BBC WAC R19/1382/2, BBC Variety Department Listener’s Report, May 1952, 30 June 1952. 80. BBC WAC R13/108/1, Asst. to DV, Dance Music Section n.d. 81. Ibid. Dance Music Section, 26 February 1948; Reorganisation, 18 May 1948. During 1946–47, Sir Valentine Holmes, KC was retained by the BBC to conduct an internal investigation into allegations of bribery within the Corporation. The Dance Music Organiser, Mrs D.H. Neilson was the focus of this enquiry in which it was alleged that, in addition to other gifts from a large number of band leaders, she had accepted two blue fox furs from bandleader Harry Roy. Holmes subsequently found that there was no hard evidence to substantiate these claims and that while Mrs Neilson’s conduct was open to severe criticism, she had been candid and truthful and he did not believe that the presents had influenced her in carrying out her duties. There is a somewhat sensationalised 1945–1955: A GOLDEN AGE FOR RADIO COMEDY 227

account of this affair in Wing Commander Geoffrey Cooper MP, Caesar’s Mistress: The BBC on Trial, London, 1948. 82. Barry Took, A Point of View, London, 1990, 85. See also British Pathé News Report (1947) A Tale of the BBC on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EE7H1tBZSM0 [accessed 15 May 2018]. 83. RT 1324, 25 February 1949, 4. 84. RT 1327, 18 March 1949, 3. 85. BBC WAC R19/585/1, Kings of Jazz, 21 September 1948. See Chap. 3 for Perowne’s pre-war role in promoting jazz at the BBC. 86. RT 1300, 10 September 1948, 5. 87. Quoted in Jim Godbolt, A History of Jazz in Britain 1950–70, London, 1989, 45. 88. BBC WAC R34/585/2, 3rd Quarter 1953: Jazz Programmes, 28 April, 1953. 89. BBC WAC R13/108/3, Programme Requirements, 1 September 1953. 90. BBC WAC R19/1824/1, Note by Controller, Entertainment (Sound) on: The Dance Music Policy Committee, 15 March 1956. 91. BBC WAC R19/941/9, Answer Me, 25 September 1953. 92. Ibid. ‘Popular Lyrics’ with a Religious Reference, 22 October 1953; ibid. 26 October 1953; ibid. 11 November 1953. 93. BBC WAC R19/947/7, Banning of Records, 26 August 1948. 94. BBC WAC R19/941/8, Standing to Hodges, 17 March 1950. 95. BBC WAC R19/941/9, Murrill to Ricketts, 7 January 1952. 96. BBC WAC R19/1824/1, Instone to Heath, 7 September 1955. 97. BBC WAC R19/1824/4, Walt Disney’s “Sleeping Beauty”, 27 July 1959. 98. BBC WAC R19/1824/1, Dance Music Policy, 29 December 1955. 99. Some of these banned songs may be heard on This Record is Not to be Broadcast: 75 Songs Banned by the BBC 1931–1957, released on Fantastic Voyage FVTD 018 and This Record is Not to be Broadcast: 50 More Records Banned by the BBC vol. 2, Fantastic Voyage FVDD 038. 100. Grace Wyndham Goldie, Facing the Nation: Television and Politics 1936– 1976, London, 1977, 18–19. 101. Peter Black, The Biggest Aspidistra in the World, London, 1974, 154. 102. Author’s interview with Brian Willey, 14 October 2008. 103. BBC Handbook 1955, London 1954, 168 and BBC Handbook 1957, London, 1956, 209. 104. BBC Handbook 1957, 248 and 198. 105. BBC Handbook 1956, London, 1955, 209. 106. BBC WAC R34/422/1, Development of Sound and Television, 29 September, 1952. 107. Ibid. Listening Trends, 18 May 1954. 108. BBC WAC R34/422/2, Brow Level, 22 February 1955. 228 M. DIBBS

109. BBC WAC R5/87/1, Listening Report: Radio Luxembourg, 1951. 110. BBC WAC R34/422/2, Broadcasting in A New Era, 24 October 1955. 111. BBC WAC R5/87/1, LR54/555 Listening to Radio Luxembourg, 1 April 1954. 112. BBC WAC R19/1378/8, Minutes of Producers’ Meeting, 15 June 1954. 113. Eric Barker, ‘Humour on the Air’, The BBC Quarterly, 6:3 (Autumn 1951), 147 and 151. 114. RT 1555, 28 August 1953, 6. 115. BBC WAC R19/1948/2, Minutes of Producers’ Meeting, 27 September 1955; RT 1644, 30 September 1955, 1. 116. RT 1507, 26 September, 1952, 11. CHAPTER 6

1956–1967: Sound into Vision; Popular into Pop

The Shock of the New In 1956, with radio in serious competition with television for the domestic audience, listening was still portrayed by Radio Times as a family-centred activity. In April, the magazine publicised a change to the Sunday schedule and illustrated it by a drawing depicting a family relaxing and listening to the radio in much the same way as it had been portrayed in pre-war years. Family Listening on Sunday promised a play, light music for easy listening and variety—all fare which appeared to have remained the same for many years.1 Many of Variety’s programmes remained entertaining and of high quality, but radio audiences were being steadily drained away by television. This was less so on Sunday afternoons or during the day, but more often during the evenings when, until recently, the majority of the domestic audience would have settled down to an evening’s listening. The impact of television affected all programme supply departments, not least Variety. It seemed that just as radio had got into its post-war stride, the rug was pulled from under its feet. As Frank Muir noted,

I think a tiny tragedy of the twentieth century…was that just when radio had matured, found its own techniques and knew what it could do better than film or the theatre, it was suddenly overwhelmed by television.2

Television now began to receive investment for technical development and programming in order to meet the challenge of the commercial sector, while radio had to make do with a smaller proportion of the financial resources available. Expenditure gradually moved in favour of television, and what had been a roughly 80:20 split in financial resources in favour of radio in 1950–51 became 70:30 in favour of television by the financial year 1967–68. This reallocation of resources would inevitably filter down to radio output departments which would need to make savings. Variety was no exception, and its producers were continually reminded, through their regular departmental meetings, of the need to make economies without sacrificing the quality of programmes. With the memory of war beginning to fade, the nation increasingly looked for improved standards of living to replace shortages and austerity. Radio now appeared a little jaded and old-fashioned alongside its younger relative television, a symbol of progress. In a climate of rising incomes and full employment, the television aerial was an indication of affluence to neighbours, friends and relatives. The extent to which television began to replace radio as the prime mode of domestic entertainment was reflected in the licencing figures. The number of radio-only licences issued fell by nearly half between 1956 and 1960 from 8.46 million to 4.49 million and continued to decline as sales of the combined radio and television licence rose correspondingly from 5.74 million to 10.47 million, increasing annually thereafter. The full extent of the decline could be seen by 1967 when only 2.48 million radio licences were issued against 14.27 million combined licences.3 Other disparate signs of radio’s falling status were the decline of the radio critic, the growing pre-eminence of television coverage in Radio Times and the increasing difficulty in obtaining publicity for radio programmes in the press.4 For Variety the problem was how to respond to the popularity of television entertainment using a medium which was diminishing in importance and lacked the modernity of its rival. By the mid-1950s, the name ‘Variety Department’ sounded distinctly anachronistic and did not reflect the true nature and broadness of its output, a point made by Pat Hillyard in 1953.5 Variety as a form of public entertainment had long since been in a steep decline, and in 1957 the Department’s title was dropped and it was renamed Light Entertainment (Sound). With the publication that year of the report The Future of Sound Broadcasting, setting out a strategy for radio in the television age, the rebranding was designed to project a more modern outlook for the lighter side of BBC radio output. The Department continued to operate from its 1956–1967: SOUND INTO VISION; POPULAR INTO POP 231

Aeolian Hall headquarters in New Bond Street, London, where some 20 of the Department’s 60 plus weekly programmes for the Light, Home and Overseas services were recorded or broadcast live. The remainder came from four other studios around London. The 3,500 annual productions comprised a diverse range of new and familiar programmes. Many were described as being ‘pure radio’, that is, having the ability to create imagi- native pictures in the audience’s head. In addition, there were situation comedies, act shows, light drama series, quizzes and a wide range of music-based programmes. Over the period, as Table 6.1 shows, the Department’s staff numbers gradually contracted to take into account the changing patterns of listening and the concomitant organisational change. This was particularly apparent in 1963 when Variety’s music section was lost in its entirety to the newly formed Popular Music Department.

The Future of Sound Broadcasting In 1955, Lindsay Wellington, the Director of Sound Broadcasting, questioned whether the Corporation’s traditional concepts of public service broadcasting were still valid and whether its ethos should be redefined in terms more appropriate to the changes occurring in society.6 Sir Ian Jacob, who had succeeded Sir William Haley as Director-General in 1952, dif- fered from his predecessor in rejecting the BBC’s traditional paternalistic role and suggested that while public service broadcasting should aim to provide the best available in every field, this did not mean that the BBC should determine what was best for the audience. There needed to be a balance in which light entertainment and triviality could exist comfortably alongside more serious and informative programmes but not necessarily on the same network. In October 1956, an internal working party was established to examine the future of sound broadcasting.7 Membership comprised Richard Marriott, Chief Assistant to the Director of Sound Broadcasting; Frank Gillard, Controller of the BBC’s West Region; Michael Standing, Controller of Entertainment (Sound); and Richmond Postgate, Assistant Controller, Home Service (Secretary). The subsequent report appeared in early 1957. For listening, as will be seen in Table 6.2, the trend was decid- edly downwards, being less than half it had been across all BBC networks from a peak in 1948. However, the decline in the radio audience between 1948 and 1956 was not wholly caused by television as a 20 per cent loss had occurred 232 M. DIBBS 2 * 1967 20 * – 3 * 1966 23 * – 3 50 1965 21 26 – 3 50 1964 16 (17) 32 – 3 50 1963 15 (16) 31 ¶ 3 97 1962 28 (34) 47 13 3 97 1961 29 (35) 46 13 includes accompanists, dance band, orchestra and music library staff c 3 98 1960 27 (31) 44 20 3 98 1959 26 (32) 45 18 3 99 1958 26 (31) 47 18 includes admin, secretarial and clerical staff; 3 95 1957 24 (28) 46 18 b 3 99 1956 25 (30) 48 18 Variety Department staff numbers 1956–67 Variety

a,§ b Includes Script Section; c a Producers Management Support Music Totals Music staff transferred to new Popular Music Department from July 1963 Figures in brackets indicate total number of producers available, including those on short-term contracts Table 6.1 Table Source: Compiled from BBC Staff Lists 1956–67 Notes: § ¶ *Secretarial staff and most admin staff no longer included in staff lists; totals are therefore incomplete for these years 1956–1967: SOUND INTO VISION; POPULAR INTO POP 233

Table 6.2 Comparison of BBC radio audience numbers, 1948 and 1956

1948 1956

No. of adults % of adult pop. Ratio No. of adults % of adult pop. Ratio

Home 3.6 m. 10.2 38 1.6 m. 4.2 35 Light 6.0 m. 16.5 61 2.85 m. 7.6 64 Third 0.1 m. 0.3 1 0.05 m. 0.1 1 Totals 9.7 m. 27.0 4.5 m. 11.9

Source: BBC WAC R34/422/3, Evidence submitted to Working Party on Future of Sound Broadcasting [by BBC Listener Research Department], 4 January 1957 before it could have had any effect. While television may have accounted for half the decline, the remainder was probably due to the public’s adoption of other leisure pursuits and to a lesser extent by the popularity of Radio Luxembourg. By 1956 Luxembourg’s average evening audience was 1.1 million compared to the BBC’s 3.7 million. If Luxembourg’s reception had been consistently better, the threat to BBC audiences might have been more significant. With a downwards trend in evening listening, Audience Research commented:

even if TV had never been invented and even if Luxembourg had not broadcast any programmes to this country, the volume of listening would almost certainly have fallen considerably since 1948. Indeed there can be little doubt that of recent years listening has been losing its appeal as a leisure occupation for the evening amongst people who cannot view television.8

The importance of sound broadcasting was expected to diminish over the next five to seven years, and the estimated audience decline would be from 17.9 million to 6.8 million adults. However, with 18 million still solely dependent on radio, the medium remained a considerable force in broadcasting, but with the expected growth of television, radio would soon be the junior partner in the relationship. Audiences were expected to remain identical in social composition, and there was no reason to expect that there would be more resistance to television from the better-educated section of the population. The Report highlighted two areas in which change was essential if the audience were to be retained. Firstly, the immediate post-war sense of educational and cultural mission, which reduced entertainment and increased the content of more ‘worthy’ programmes, was misplaced and 234 M. DIBBS would need to be reappraised. The policy was out of step with the mood of the country well after the war and appeared to encourage ‘a kind of dumb resentment’, or at best, a disappointed resignation which smoothed the way for commercial broadcasting, and the Report gently said so:

It seemed to us that this sense of educational mission was a personal inter- pretation by Sir William Haley and derived…from his own conviction of what society needed at the time.

The Report argued that the BBC had completely misread the situation in over-providing for the educated minority at the expense of those looking for lightness in listening. Such a policy was not necessarily a require- ment of public service broadcasting but derived from a sense of paternalism. The loss of the BBC’s monopoly had weakened its capacity to pursue its cultural improvement of the population, and this pointed to a need for a fundamental policy shift. Haley’s successor, Sir Ian Jacob, acknowledged the reasons why the radio audience had declined and was in no doubt about the effects of one of them:

We feel sure that one of the causes is that the effort to improve public tastes has been made in such a way that the public have been given indigestion and have turned away. We feel that the policy under which the losses have been sustained should now be modified.9

If evidence was needed that Haley’s Pyramid of Culture was now dead, the Report now provided it:

Now…the wide range of entertainment attractions available in every home has made it impossible to manipulate any single programme service in the interests of learning or culture, any justification for including serious material in the Light in any quantity has evaporated. Nowadays people come to serious programmes only if they are motivated to do so. They cannot be trapped by cunning or subtle planning devices.10

Secondly, the last elements of internal competition would have to be removed as it encouraged rivalry for airtime between the individual programme supply departments. This resulted in too much similarity between the Home Service and the Light Programme, both of whose content had steadily become too serious since the war—a fact which had been noted earlier by Denis Morris, Director of the BBC’s Midland Region. This was 1956–1967: SOUND INTO VISION; POPULAR INTO POP 235 concerning, particularly as the Light Programme had been planned as the network which would retain the audience for light entertainment and popular music when Radio Luxembourg resumed. The Home Service and Light Programme needed to create an individual sense of network identity with minimal overlap in content. This would be achieved through planning both networks together rather than as separate entities, in order to ensure the audience was provided with a choice. There was a large measure of agreement among senior management within the BBC regarding present policy being contrary to contemporary thinking and, as Michael Tracey observed:

At a stroke, the authors of the Report, and all those senior managers who were endorsing the conclusion, were casting aside the whole philosophical structure on which the previous thirty years of the BBC’s history had rested. Their reasoning was simple: there was no alternative but to recognize the rise of a new medium, television, a new institution, commercial television, and a new social order, post-war Britain.11

There would be a more listener-centred approach to programme planning which, while maintaining standards, would reflect more evenly the whole range of topics people found appealing. Entertainment would not be minimised or regarded as a gradual step towards more culturally beneficial objectives. The BBC would become less didactic and, while programmes would continue to offer education and information, this would be overt rather than covert. The Working Party’s recommendations were not universally welcomed, particularly the proposed cut in the Third Programme which sparked a national campaign of opposition. In his personal recollection of working at the BBC, D.G. Bridson commented that the changes subsequently made were done so without consulting the heads of the programme- making departments—a decision which caused a great deal of resentment among the staff.12 The report was acted upon, and from 29 September 1957, a new pattern of radio broadcasting was introduced which aimed to provide a more relevant service to those who relied solely on radio or used it as complementary to the television service. The Light Programme would focus on light entertainment for an audience who devoted less time to radio listening and wanted ‘distraction and relaxation rather than information and education’. Typical programmes would be short, light and easy to follow. Its content would draw heavily on the Variety Department’s 236 M. DIBBS output, with a large music-based component comprising mainly ‘pop’ and the lighter end of light music. It would include daily serials such as The Archers and Mrs Dale’s Diary, and other radio drama would be present in the form of comedy thrillers, crime series and science fiction, each lasting no more than 30 minutes. Short talks not exceeding five minutes would be broadcast, and there would be no features or documentaries. The Light Programme would compete more directly with Luxembourg by concentrating on entertainment for an audience who were seeking recreation rather than edification. The Home Service would serve the ‘broad middle section of the community’ and include serious music and drama, talks and features and be the main information, news and current affairs network. It would include fewer but more sophisticated Variety programmes and would be a more popular network than the existing Home Service. Many of the Light’s former programmes would continue, such as the serious drama series Curtain Up and current affairs discussion programme Any Questions? Radio Times assured listeners that, while there was a need for change, their favourite programmes would not necessarily disappear; instead they would be transferred to a new and more appropriate home. It was stressed that there were not three separate networks to serve different groups of listeners, rather that the BBC served the whole community through three separate radio networks. The effect of these alterations in percentage terms on the popular entertainment content of the Light Programme and Home Service between 1956 and 1967 is shown in Tables 6.3 and 6.4: As the changes took place, the Light Programme increased its output in light and popular music, while the Home Service was transformed into a principally spoken-word and information network. The extent to which this happened may be seen by comparing a typical day’s schedule for the Light Programme in 1949 (see Table 5.3, Chap. 5) with that for 1960 shown in Table 6.5, three years after the changes began. On the Light Programme in 1949, music occupied, in round figures, 60 per cent of a 15-hour broadcasting day and spoken-word output, 40 per cent. By 1960, music accounted for approximately 70 per cent and spoken word for 30 per cent of a 17.5-hour day. Thereafter, the programme structure of the broadcasting day on the Light remained largely unchanged—apart from an earlier start and later finish—until September 1967. There was also a reduction in serious music, drama and talks content on the Light, making it intellectually more undemanding. The resulting changes within the Home Service were largely the opposite of those of the Light Programme 1956–1967: SOUND INTO VISION; POPULAR INTO POP 237

Table 6.3 Light Programme: annual programme content in percentages, 1956–67