devoured from local library books. This careful honing of his talent culminated with the fiendishly
demanding role of Shakespeare’s Macbeth. So immersed was John in the manic Scot’s world that when a luckless boy came on late
and forgot his lines he nearly throttled him on stage, while filling in for him in perfect improvised iambic pentameter.
3 June
Arrived back from location filming to find John in kitchen looking wild-eyed and drawn. It shocked me – echoes of the drinking days – but I think it’s because he has been coping on his own. I noticed his voice is still croaky from the singing and he said it had got worse. I feel a bit uneasy and we must look into it but he said it was worth it – he had enjoyed Peter Pan so much.
For light relief John was compere for the Burnage Community Theatre that went round old people’s homes and local halls with
their shows. While his brother Ray showed his defiance to the world by becoming the youngest cricket captain in Manchester
and playing football for several teams, including the Manchester Under 15s, John sat on the edge of the playing field reading
and learning lines. It is no wonder that he only achieved one O-level as the set books held no interest for him.
John mimicked the teachers’ regional accents so accurately that they let him get away with it. Or maybe they were intimidated
by this fierce lad. He was treated respectfully in the playground. His reputation was such that he ran a protection racket
for a much-bullied lad called Bradshaw, in return for his sandwiches. He was mindful of his dad’s warning not to get caught,
so another lad was forced to nick things on his behalf from a local shop. John became fat and unkempt. The boys’ diet was
not helped by the end of sweet rationing in 1953. Despite Beattie’s watchful eye and the neighbours’ solicitude there was
no woman at home and frequently, because of his work, no father either. John was known as the boy with the grey vest and no
underpants. His great discovery, with the help of John Lee, was that he could turn his back on all this by pretending to be
someone else. In his early teens John had little time for girls, although he did languish after the beautiful Alison Lui,
whose parents ran the Chinese laundry; he did not risk seeking love after his mother left. But something in him attracted
it. He and Ray received much kindness from people – most of them with little but their compassion to give.
In the forties the grown-ups were still exhausted and dejected, despite the advent of the Welfare State, but the fifties saw
a surge of energy amongst the young. The new pop music became central to their lives. To begin with, John and his brother
and friends went to clubs in Manchester to hear Chris Barber, Jack Parnell, Ronnie Scott and the groovy Humphrey Lyttelton.
Then they became excited by skiffle and Lonnie Donegan. Along came Bill Haley, Little Richard and the British contingent of
Tommy Steele, Cliff Richard and Marty Wilde, who paved the way for the Beatles and the Stones. The age of the teenager had
arrived. Before, young people had to be seen and not heard, but suddenly they were all-important and going wild. A seminal
moment was Elvis Presley’s appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show where he swivelled his hips as if he were ‘sneering with his legs’ and the grown-ups decided he should in future be shown
only from the waist up. Young John thought him thrilling. An Elvis impersonation went into his act, slightly toned down for
the old people’s homes.
On the Belle Vue dance floor the old order fell apart. Sedate waltzes and quicksteps were replaced by jitterbug and jive.
Girls were flung about in wild abandon. The iconic 1955 portrait of Marilyn Monroe, standing on a grille with the draught
blowing her skirt up to reveal a glimpse of rather chaste knickers, was where it was at. On the tennis courts Gorgeous Gussie
Moran showed her frilly
demanding role of Shakespeare’s Macbeth. So immersed was John in the manic Scot’s world that when a luckless boy came on late
and forgot his lines he nearly throttled him on stage, while filling in for him in perfect improvised iambic pentameter.
3 June
Arrived back from location filming to find John in kitchen looking wild-eyed and drawn. It shocked me – echoes of the drinking days – but I think it’s because he has been coping on his own. I noticed his voice is still croaky from the singing and he said it had got worse. I feel a bit uneasy and we must look into it but he said it was worth it – he had enjoyed Peter Pan so much.
For light relief John was compere for the Burnage Community Theatre that went round old people’s homes and local halls with
their shows. While his brother Ray showed his defiance to the world by becoming the youngest cricket captain in Manchester
and playing football for several teams, including the Manchester Under 15s, John sat on the edge of the playing field reading
and learning lines. It is no wonder that he only achieved one O-level as the set books held no interest for him.
John mimicked the teachers’ regional accents so accurately that they let him get away with it. Or maybe they were intimidated
by this fierce lad. He was treated respectfully in the playground. His reputation was such that he ran a protection racket
for a much-bullied lad called Bradshaw, in return for his sandwiches. He was mindful of his dad’s warning not to get caught,
so another lad was forced to nick things on his behalf from a local shop. John became fat and unkempt. The boys’ diet was
not helped by the end of sweet rationing in 1953. Despite Beattie’s watchful eye and the neighbours’ solicitude there was
no woman at home and frequently, because of his work, no father either. John was known as the boy with the grey vest and no
underpants. His great discovery, with the help of John Lee, was that he could turn his back on all this by pretending to be
someone else. In his early teens John had little time for girls, although he did languish after the beautiful Alison Lui,
whose parents ran the Chinese laundry; he did not risk seeking love after his mother left. But something in him attracted
it. He and Ray received much kindness from people – most of them with little but their compassion to give.
In the forties the grown-ups were still exhausted and dejected, despite the advent of the Welfare State, but the fifties saw
a surge of energy amongst the young. The new pop music became central to their lives. To begin with, John and his brother
and friends went to clubs in Manchester to hear Chris Barber, Jack Parnell, Ronnie Scott and the groovy Humphrey Lyttelton.
Then they became excited by skiffle and Lonnie Donegan. Along came Bill Haley, Little Richard and the British contingent of
Tommy Steele, Cliff Richard and Marty Wilde, who paved the way for the Beatles and the Stones. The age of the teenager had
arrived. Before, young people had to be seen and not heard, but suddenly they were all-important and going wild. A seminal
moment was Elvis Presley’s appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show where he swivelled his hips as if he were ‘sneering with his legs’ and the grown-ups decided he should in future be shown
only from the waist up. Young John thought him thrilling. An Elvis impersonation went into his act, slightly toned down for
the old people’s homes.
On the Belle Vue dance floor the old order fell apart. Sedate waltzes and quicksteps were replaced by jitterbug and jive.
Girls were flung about in wild abandon. The iconic 1955 portrait of Marilyn Monroe, standing on a grille with the draught
blowing her skirt up to reveal a glimpse of rather chaste knickers, was where it was at. On the tennis courts Gorgeous Gussie
Moran showed her frilly
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