PomPoms Up!

by Carol Cleveland

  So, I was Queen for a week! I won a holiday at a Butlins Hotel, £50 and a complete holiday outfit. I was driven around the borough in a 1911 Renault Landaulette, visiting shops where I was photographed with prized cats, motor scooters, umbrellas and all sorts of household gadgets. I was given a gift at each stop, the best one being a washing machine. Mummy was very happy with that!

  I’d been looking for a job, so I was pleased when I was offered work at Whiteleys afterwards. It didn’t last long however. My honesty got in the way. In the clothing department, when a customer asked me what I thought of the dress she was trying on, I’d have to say, “Well, I don’t really think it suits you madam.” The lady herself would usually appreciate my candour, but the department manager didn’t. I was moved downstairs to the make-up department, where I was spotted trying on too much of it myself. I also spent too much time flirting with the male staff. I sensed that I was on the verge of being sacked when luckily I heard from RADA that I’d been accepted. I used this as my excuse to give in my notice and left with my head held high. Now it was back to the Shakespeare and preparations for my next big adventure.

  Chapter Four

  YES DARLING… I’M AT RADA!

  Not only had I won a place at what is considered to be one of the best drama schools in the world, but I’d been awarded a grant as well, which was quite surprising considering they thought of me as American. Among RADA’s famous graduates are the likes of Sir John Gielgud, Roger Moore, Vivien Leigh, Joan Collins, Peter O’Toole, Albert Finney and Ralph Fiennes. Quite an act to follow! I felt extremely privileged to be selected and was over the moon with excitement. My mother was bursting with pride. I didn’t tell her, but part of me was wondering if I was up to it.

  The big day came and I made my way by underground to Goodge Street tube station, then a short walk to Gower Street and RADA’s rather imposing entrance. I was still looking upwards at the two big statues carved into either side of the doorway as I stepped forward, tripped on the step, and landed on my knees inside the entrance hall. Two male students stood there smiling at me. “Now, that’s what I call an entrance,” said one. I’d arrived!

  There were about twenty of us newcomers. We were shown into the auditorium where we were welcomed by the Principal, John Fernald, and introduced to our teachers and staff. After a tour of the building we went to the student cafeteria, where we had tea and a chance to get to know each other. I need not have worried, as most felt a little nervous and all were very friendly. Some had already had some professional experience, others none at all. There was one girl I was rather shocked by however. She was very loud, called everyone “Darling,” and swore constantly. This was the first time I’d ever heard a female say f**k! I so hoped that I wouldn’t pick up this nasty habit! I didn’t, but I have to admit that I do now call everybody “Darling.”

  RADA took in five or six foreign students each term. In our group was a girl from Sweden, one from Lebanon, one from Germany and two of us from America. With my Californian accent and my favourite attire choice of tight sweaters worn over a Madonna-style, cone-shaped bra, it wasn’t long before I was given the title ‘Carol Cleavage.’ It also wasn’t long before I caught the eye of some rather good-looking boys. I settled on one particularly handsome chap with a cheeky smile and thick dark hair combed into a quiff. He looked Italian but, in fact, came from Manchester. I was smitten and we quickly became ‘an item.’ Having Ian McShane as my boyfriend made my stay at RADA especially memorable and we were considered to be the ideal couple.

  I now had a best friend too… the petite, fun and rather whacky Lynda Titchmarsh, whom everyone called ‘Titmarsh’ instead. After leaving RADA she quickly changed her name to Marchal, but had to change it again later on when she married, to Lynda La Plante. It is under this name that she is now known as a highly successful novelist and writer of crime TV series. But at RADA she was a born comedienne who’d have everyone in stiches… both on stage and off. We all thought that was her destiny, but Lynda had her own agenda. She knew exactly where she was going.

  Ian’s good friend was a jolly good actor called John Hurt. I don’t think anyone at RADA doubted his future success. He seemed much more mature and experienced than other lads there. I remember a conversation I had with him one evening at a party. We were talking about homosexuality… which was not something one openly discussed in those days. Very casually, he admitted that he had once had some intimate contact with a male… not because he was ‘gay’, but just to find out what it was like. He believed that to be a good, successful actor it was important to taste as many of life’s experiences as possible. I was a rather naïve girl then and was somewhat taken aback at this revelation, but I couldn’t help admiring his dedication. Many years later, at a rather wild party, I had the opportunity to taste this other side of life for myself. I recalled John’s words and thought, “Yes Carol, you must do this in the name of your art.” Well, I tried… but it was no good. I just couldn’t stop giggling! I can only hope I’d do a better job of it on screen!

  Lynda was now sharing my bedsitting room at home, where we shared a lot of laughs together. Sometimes John and Ian would join us and I recall one evening when they were teasing Lynda mercilessly about her virginity. John was offering to assist with this life enriching experience but Lynda was having none of it and stomped out of the room. What neither of them knew was that she was not eighteen, which was the minimum required age to enter RADA, but was in fact only sixteen. She kept her secret well and even I didn’t find out until we’d graduated.

  There was an exceptional array of talent at RADA in my two years there. David Warner was one… quiet, unassuming, just got on with it. Anthony Hopkins… assured, with a powerful voice and presence. We all knew he’d make it big. I think he knew it too. Simon Ward… a good, versatile actor with a warm voice and interesting look. Brian Blessed… a huge man with a huge voice and personality to match. And many more who are still working and playing leading roles. We all got on well and would pop around the corner to the nearest pub after classes, where we were joined by some of those who had just graduated, like Albert Finney and John Thaw. And there were lots of parties, usually all-night ones where Ian and I would end up cuddled together on the floor. Some of the best parties were at my house, as Mummy loved entertaining. All my fellow students and tutors adored her and even now, should I bump into one, they’ll say, “Your mother was such great fun…. a real character.”

  Another actor who made his mark at RADA, but perhaps for the wrong reason, was Alan Lake. Alan was devilishly handsome, with curly black hair, dark eyes, a wicked smile and a gypsy in his soul. He was a fine actor but he liked his drink a bit too much. He’d get drunk at parties and become rather wild and uncontrollable. He made a play for me on several of these occasions, but I always managed to fend him off, with a little help from others.

  Not long after I’d left RADA we met up again at a pub on Hampstead Heath, where we were both ‘pulling pints’ to make a bit of extra money. It was our last evening there. We’d had a few laughs and he didn’t want to see me go. He was feeling rather low and was drowning his sorrows in beer when the landlord wasn’t looking. We were closing up for the night when he proclaimed that he’d always loved me and I should come home and stay with him. I explained that I couldn’t possibly accept his offer, as my rather jealous boyfriend would be picking me up soon. Undeterred, he said he would fight him for me, which was rather disconcerting as I’d noticed him using his Swiss Army knife earlier to open a bottle with. He was drunk and I was truly worried that he’d carry out his threat. My Italian boyfriend was a stunt man in films and a black belt in Judo. It could be a very bloody fight! I told Alan that I was going to the ladies toilet and if he’d calmed down enough when I came back, I’d go home with him this once. Instead, I grabbed my coat and made a quick dash for the back exit and around the corner to where I knew Val’s Jaguar would be parked. I didn’t tell him what was lying in wait for him inside the pub and I never saw Alan
again. Not long afterwards, he met and married Diana Dors. Theirs was a passionate but turbulent relationship with a tragic ending. A few months after Diana died of cancer, in 1984, Alan sadly shot himself at their family home.

  As for my training at RADA, on the whole I did quite well. I excelled in the things I enjoyed most, like dancing and comedy, but it was my voice that let me down for most of my first year there. It was “too high pitched, thin in tone and narrow in range” and my consonants were “careless.” I think my voice teacher got a bit frustrated with me at times. In my final term she said that I should, “Try to correct ‘one’ and ‘sh’ once and for all.” I must admit that I still have to be careful not to pronounce ‘one’ as ‘wun.’ She also tried to get me to keep my face still when exclaiming something. I couldn’t seem to shout “Stop!” without my forehead creasing up and she told me I must do something about it. At home that night, I stood in front of the mirror shouting: “Stop, stop, stop!”

  I’m surprised the neighbours didn’t call the police. Nothing changed though and the next day when I returned to class I said:

  “Miss Smith, I’ve done all I can do about it.”

  She glared at me. I’d cut my straight hair into a thick fringe that covered my forehead and I’ve had it ever since.

  I did well in stage technique, fencing, improvisation and restoration comedy. The actor Gerald Harper said I’d given “an excellent performance” in his production, but warned me not to go “over the top.” Moi?… Go over the top?! Never!

  The only class I never really got to grips with was Yat Malmgren’s movement class which was based on the Laban technique. The LMA (Laban Movement Analysis) is a very complex exploration of performing skills and movement. You either get it or you don’t! A few in our class incorporated it into their roles on stage and personally I thought their performances suffered for it. Lynda and I spent most of the class trying not to giggle. It was difficult not to at times and we were often reprimanded. We’d lie on our backs in rows on the floor, trying to be perfectly still and quiet when someone would let off a loud fart. A glance sideways would catch a room full of quivering bodies. At other times we’d have to lie with our legs straight up in the air. Yat would then walk amongst us; take hold of our feet and pull our legs out sideways into a Y shape. I couldn’t quite see how this could improve my acting, but it did come in handy when applied to one of my more pleasurable activities.

  I graduated at the end of 1962, but not before I was called in for my final chat with the Principal. He thought that I had all the assets for success, but perhaps more so on film, rather than stage. To that end, he and my new agent had got together and discussed how I might achieve this. For some reason, which I’ve never quite understood, even the actor Kenneth More, who was on my agent’s books, was involved. This was all sounding very exciting, until Mr Fernald asked me if I would consider having my nose ‘bobbed’!

  “What?”… “Why?!”

  The tip of my nose was slightly round but I hadn’t seen anything wrong with that.

  “Your face is lovely but we think, for film work, it would look better on screen if your nose were straightened. We will pay for the surgery.”

  It was flattering to think that these three people were prepared to spend money to help enhance my career, but the idea of altering my appearance was abhorrent to me at the time. My mother certainly wasn’t happy about it either. She liked my nose!

  But was it the right decision to refuse the offer? Some years later, when the second Bond film was being cast, I was called in for an interview with the producer and casting director, after they had seen a glamorous picture of me in a magazine. They said that I had all the attributes for a ‘Bond Girl’ and would love to have me in the film. There was just one thing that worried them… my nose! They thought it was fine for comedy, but not for Bond!

  “Would you consider having a ‘nose job’? We think it would be very beneficial to your career.”

  I’m sad that I never got to be a Bond Girl and I do wonder what path my straight nose would have led me on? But then I think, “Yes, but without my comedy nose I might never have been the Monty Python Girl!”

  Sadly, there was one thing I left RADA without… my boyfriend, Ian. He and I had parted company a few months earlier, not long after the premier of his first film, The Wild and the Willing. Ian had been a term above me and had been given leave, along with John Hurt, to make the film. It was so exciting at the time, for both of us. He went off to film and I continued with my studies. About two weeks later he came back for a weekend break in filming and we had what felt like a movie moment. I was in a classroom when Lynda tapped on the small glass window of the door and excitedly mouthed that Ian was downstairs. I rushed outside and lent over the third floor railing, calling out, “Ian!” He looked up at me and shouted, “Dids!” He ran up one side of the stairs while I ran down the other side and we met on the central landing, with my feet off the floor while he swung me around several times. Then we kissed, while friends smiled and whistled. He’s probably forgotten this day, but a girl never forgets her ‘movie moments’!

  We had a romantic weekend and even discussed possible marriage for the first time. Everything was rosy! But the next time I saw him, after filming had completed, something had changed in him. One of the students hosted a party held in his honour and I was there, waiting anxiously for him. He arrived late and apologised to everyone for being too tired to ‘party.’ He gave me a little kiss and went to his room. I followed and it was then that he told me our romance was over. He said that he was going to be so busy with filming now that he couldn’t even think about marriage and maybe we could just stay friends. I was devastated and utterly heart-broken. He was a film star now and I was just a drama student who had no place in his new world. I suspected that he must be having an affair with his leading lady and here I was, following in my mother’s footsteps. I was inconsolable for a while, but happily we stayed friends and still managed to make it to the film premiere together.

  My way of getting over my heart-ache was to go on a dating frenzy, and one person I went out with very briefly was Harry H. Corbett. He wasn’t the one to cheer me up, however, as he himself was rather depressed. The TV series Steptoe and Son had brought him much acclaim, but I sensed that he yearned to get back to the classics on stage.

  As for me, I just yearned to start working…. on stage, screen OR television!

  Chapter Five

  “AND INTRODUCING CAROL CLEVELAND”

  I graduated from RADA in 1962 just before Christmas. Our family Christmas celebrations were always lovely and very traditional, just like the ones we had in my youth. We’d all go shopping for the tree and decorate it on Christmas Eve with the same baubles we’ve had for years, including a very old Bakelite fairy for the top, which was my grandmother’s. My mother and I would spend hours wrapping the presents, making them look as beautiful as possible, so that if the contents weren’t expensive at least it looked so on the outside. I’d learned how to make very fancy bows at Whiteleys.

  Of course, in those days every part of the Christmas meal was cooked from scratch. Nothing came out of tins and nothing was wasted. Granny made all the ‘puddings’ and Mummy made all the sauces. While they slaved away in the kitchen, knocking back the odd drop of sherry, my job was to set the table with Granny’s fine china, her silverware and candelabra that had been carefully wrapped in aluminium foil, and the white linen tablecloth with her neatly sewn Christmas motif in each corner. After lunch we’d open our presents and turn on the television only once, to listen to the Queen’s speech. We’d then play games. There was one game that wasn’t to everyone’s liking, but we always played it to please Mummy. Back in California, she and Cleve would join two other couples in a weekly game of poker – not the serious ‘5-Card-Draw’ type, but the more sociable ‘Dealer’s Choice’ in which any number of wild cards could be used. I enjoyed it too and got quite good at it. In the evening we’d all sing Christmas Carols, ending wit
h me singing Silent Night, which always brought a tear to Mummy’s eye.

  The following week we celebrated New Year’s Eve at a local restaurant where, after a few drinks, Mummy insisted that everyone there should join in her ‘toast’ that wished her daughter a long, happy and successful career in show-business. Needless to say, my mother was always my greatest fan.

  Two weeks later, I came of age! Mummy had invited four of my girlfriends to join us for a night out at ‘The Talk of the Town’ nightclub. But first we gathered at the house, to have our first ‘grown up’ drink – a champagne cocktail. We rather liked it and were promised another one on our return home. Mummy had a new boyfriend, Jim, who was going to keep an eye on my ten-year-old brother. Jim was Irish and, like all Irishmen, liked his drink. He was given strict instructions not to touch the champagne. We all had a great, girlie evening out and came back much looking forward to ending it with our second, delicious cocktail. There was relief that the champers had not been touched. Mummy carefully saturated six sugar lumps with Angostura Bitters and placed them into our glasses. She then unscrewed the brandy bottle and went to pour a little over each lump. No wonder Jim seemed rather tipsy – he’d drunk all the brandy!