Outside the studios hundreds of teenage fans waited to mob Cliff. This was only a ten minute programme, but they had come from far and wide, travelling countless miles, just for the chance of seeing their idol in action for a few minutes.

Some of those crowding outside did not even catch a glimpse of him. But still they were happy to be there; content just to be near where Cliff was.

Since then Cliff Richard has reached an even higher peak of success. And apart from being one of the few pop stars to have stayed high in the popularity stakes, he has even knocked on the door of the exclusive Presley hall of fame to challenge the almost legendary Elvis for the No. 1 position.

Pop singers come and go, their career governed by the restless tastes of the teenage record buyers. Some of them are one record wonders who cut a hit disc, climb high into the Top Ten and then slide off into obscurity. Others find themselves stars overnight. But unless they can continue to provide the type of music the teenage audience want, their popularity — like the moonlight kisses of the famous Nat King Cole song — “cools in the warmth of the sun”. Some are stars at 15 and has-beens at the ripe old age of 20.

But for all these, the vagaries of “pop” music life, there are those with obvious talent — an ability certain to keep them in favour with their capricious audience. Such artistes are Brenda Lee, Helen Shapiro, Bobby Vee and Bobby Rydell, not to mention those old timers Connie Francis, Pat Boone, Tommy Steele and Frankie Vaughan.

All of these favourites have featured in ATV shows during the past year.

Cliff Richard, for instance, has appeared frequently in Startime and Sunday Night at the London Palladium programmes. That Cliff is one of Britain’s hottest show business properties is undisputed. There was a time when this swarthy dark eyed twenty-two-year-old meant nothing. But by the time he was 19 Cliff had made the top. Today he can smile at the cynics who thought him to be just another guitar-strumming teenager when he made his early television appearances in the Oh Boy show.

But the teenagers had faith in him. Cliff justified that faith. Today he is mobbed wherever he goes. ‘You miss being able to walk about unmolested,’ he says. ‘It would be nice to be able to wander about. But I like what I am doing, and that is enough to make up for it.’

In addition to the year’s stage and television successes, 1962 saw Cliff’s film The Young Ones, on release. It was a tremendous box-office success. And while the teenage fans naturally flocked to see him, so did the mums and dads, and there were many who came away from the cinema with the feeling that the Cliff of 1962 appeals to a far wider audience.

Like Cliff Richard, Tommy Steele, although he still has his youthful following, now appeals more to the family-type audience. Tommy was one of the pioneers of the business of disproving the cynics in their belief that his talent consisted only of an ability to strum a guitar and wiggle his hips.

Tommy gave a polished performance in Sunday Night at the London Palladium in January and offered a feast of entertainment later in the year when he appeared in his own show. When he made this appearance in Sunday Night at the London Palladium few people knew that he almost did not go on. When he arrived by cab for the afternoon rehearsal he discovered that he had left his music in the back of the taxi. A frantic search was begun and the police called in to help. Fortunately, the cabbie found the music, took it to a police station, and it was delivered to the Palladium by a constable.

‘Was I glad to see that policeman,’ said Tommy. ‘I wonder if that taxi driver knows that he probably saved the show that night.’ Tommy showed his appreciation by sending a reward to the police station for the driver.

Billy Fury, too, appeared in several ATV shows, including All That Jazz. Many people mistake Billy’s natural shyness for coldness. On a first meeting he is apt to appear quiet and serious. But once the ice is broken Billy quickly shows himself to be a warm, humorous person. His great love is fast cars — an interest he shares with many young pop singers, including Elvis Presley.

Of all the teenage stars to hit the headlines during the past year perhaps pert little Helen Shapiro has made the greatest impact. The latter half of 1961 found Helen an established star. And 1962 consolidated that success. Successive hit records brought fame to a poised 16-year-old girl who, when her first record was climbing high in the Top Ten, was still at a London school. Since then she has headlined Sunday Night at the London Palladium, appeared in Startime and starred in a two weeks’ season at the London Palladium Theatre.

In addition to these British successes, 1962 has witnessed another pop invasion from across the Atlantic. Brenda Lee, Neil Sedaka, Bobby Vee, Bobby Rydell, Jimmy Dean, Connie Francis and Pat Boone all came to Britain to star in Sunday Night at the London Palladium.

Pat Boone, now a firm favourite with British disc fans, came to make a film at Shepperton Studios and stayed for six months. Connie Francis, of course, has been a frequent visitor to these shores for a number of years and, as one Press man jokingly put it: ‘Connie comes here so often that the airlines are giving her a season ticket!’

Four years ago a petite 15-year-old American girl set foot in Britain for the first time. Her name? Brenda Lee. She appeared in a television show and immediately set people talking. In April of this year she returned again, this time as a fully fledged star, to top the Sunday Night at the London Palladium bill. During these four years Brenda had set the American pop world alight with her powerful voice and extraordinary personality.

Her youthful zest earned her the title ‘Miss Dynamite’ and, backed by several hit records and her successful Palladium appearance, Brenda set out to conquer Britain with a hectic tour of one night stands. Unanimously, British pop artistes acclaimed her. ‘Brenda is great,’ said Cliff Richard. While Helen Shapiro, who can probably claim to be Britain’s counterpart of this dynamic American teenager, said: ‘I think Brenda Lee is the greatest female rock singer.’ Adam Faith used Norman Vaughan’s expression to describe her. ‘I think Brenda is swinging,’ he said.

Apart from teenage entertainers, television during 1962 has seen appearances from many established star singers, from both sides of the Atlantic — artistes like Eartha Kitt, Matt Monro, Shirley Bassey, Frankie Vaughan and Lonnie Donegan. Donegan, for example, starred in another successful series of Putting on the Donegan shows for ATV and proved himself to be a dab hand at comedy in addition to being one of our most popular recording stars.

Matt Monro, the former busman, found a ready market for his talents in American night-spots. It is not easy for a British artiste to win acclaim in the United States but Matt was able to do this quite emphatically.

Before leaving the pop scene, mention must be made of a young man who, through those fine recordings Moon River and Jeannie, found a place in the top echelon — Danny Williams. Danny, the quiet spoken South African-born singer, has a style reminiscent of the velvety tones of Johnny Mathis. Danny appeared in All That Jazz for ATV.

It would not be right to talk about Cliff Richard without mentioning the fabulous Shadows — Brian Locking, Bruce Welch, Hank B. Marvin and Brian Bennet, who took over as the group’s drummer from Tony Meehan in the latter part of last year. Although they still back Cliff Richard, they are now stars in their own right, and in the past year there has been a friendly battle between the Shadows and Cliff for the top chart positions.

It has been a good year in the ‘pop’ music world.

The post The Pop Invasion appeared first on THIS IS MY 1960s from Transdiffusion.

But a swashbuckler has to indulge in violence. And for 6 ft. 2 ins. London-born Roger Moore violence is something he abhors.

So when he decided to make a third bid at achieving an international television reputation what probably attracted him most to the title role in The Saint series was that here was a part in which he had to use quick wits in place of guns; stealth and shrewdness instead of fisticuffs. For Leslie Charteris’s famous character is a past-master at getting himself into dangerous situations with the greatest of ease — and getting out of them, thanks to cool thinking and cunning — even audacious talking. Playing such a character is heaven-sent for Roger Moore.

When it was announced in May of this year that he had been cast for the part he said simply. ‘This modern Robin Hood appeals to me.’

On previous occasions this son of an ex-London policeman, who first tried to earn his living as a commercial artist, had commented in this way on his roles as a TV hero. Of Ivanhoe, in which he played the title-hero, he said: ‘I felt like a complete Charlie riding around in all that armour and that plumed helmet. In fact, I felt like a mediaeval fireman.’ And when he had allowed a few centuries in time to slip by and he was seen next in programmes set in the American West of the last century he had this to say about his reactions to being Beau in the lighthearted Maverick series: ‘I can’t stand the noise of guns going off. I hate wearing cowboy boots, and my gun bruised my side.”

Third time is different. For someone who likes well-cut suits, ties that are at the height of fashion, and comfortable — mostly suede — bootees, the wardrobe chosen for The Saint is right up Roger Moore’s street. He’s honest about this: he likes good, expensive clothes.

But it hasn’t always been that easy for him to command a wardrobe which measures up to his fastidious taste…

Ten years ago he could see that cartoon drawing wasn’t going to be his line — nor was it going to bring in the kind of money that he wanted to earn. So he set down his pencil and brushes and attended classes at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art in London. From this training he went on to small parts in London stage productions, augmenting this sporadic work by doing some modelling. The money was good
— but not enough. He turned his eyes West — towards America, and Hollywood.

Within months his £20 a week British pay packet had risen to £120. In the film capital he was to make his name in such pictures as The Miracle, The Sins of Rachel Cade and Gold of The Seven Saints.

He was also to earn the reputation of being one of the film capital’s best-dressed men. And Hollywood publicity writers were toying with such phrases as ‘the successor to Errol Flynn’. Roger secretly liked the tag; still does. But if he was being likened to Flynn, so he must allow himself to be considered for the hell-raising type of role which made the boisterous fighting Flynn famous.

But Roger Moore just doesn’t have the luck of the Irish to protect him when he is around a fight — even one staged in a film studio, or on location in front of a camera.

Bad luck seemed to dog him every time he walked into a film studio, where the word ‘action’ has more than one significance. In Ivanhoe his luck was right out.

In one episode of this series, when he clashed with a knight, an over-enthusiastic serf slashed his hand with a sword. When Roger broke off the fight to examine his wounds the knight crowned him with a battle-axe. Roger landed among the horse’s hooves. He was carried off the set unconscious. In a jousting scene he cracked three ribs because ‘someone was careless with a lance’. He was also kicked by a horse.

In Maverick he had a round of knocks, bruises, cuts and sores — the result of over-enthusiastic and or under-rehearsed fights in bar-room scenes, open-prairie chases, rooftop pursuits.

Little wonder that the smooth and sophisticated roles which he had played with some of screenland’s most famous first ladies — Liz Taylor, Lana Turner, Hazel Court among them — is more to his liking.

In The Saint this favourite Moore formula is basically available. The dialogue is crisp and intelligent. There are more than sufficient attractive young actresses—with good acting qualities as well as good looks—to offset his fetching mid-Atlantic accent and essentially English type features. And the whole character of ‘The Saint’ relies on speed of mind and tongue rather than endless brawls and feats of great physical courage.

The post The Saint appeared first on THIS IS MY 1960s from Transdiffusion.