Mr Lonely. Eric Morecambe
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MR LONELY
ERIC MORECAMBE
MR LONELY
‘Sid Lewis came into this world exactly the same way as any other child. He weighed eight and a half pounds and had a shock of black hair … His childhood was normal—lumps, bumps and mumps. His schooling was average—sums, bums and chums. He left school when he was fourteen and went to work behind the counter of a tobacconist’s shop earning fifteen shillings a week and all he could inhale …’
So begins the Sid Lewis story, a tribute to that great and incomparable comedian who achieved stardom as Mr Lonely …
This book is dedicated to my first grandchild, Amelia Faye Jarvis.
CONTENTS
Dedication
Copyright
About the Publisher
Dear Reader,
This is not a biography of Sid Lewis written by someone who never really knew him. These are some wonderful stories and memories of a much loved man, who, when he appeared on our screens, most of the country would watch. I remember one Christmas show he did when thirty-five million people watched, and the repeat was seen three weeks later (by public demand) by no less than twenty-eight million. Put these two figures together and that show alone was seen by sixty-three million people. To me it proves how much we all loved him and always will. I well remember Sid once saying to me, ‘Eric, old palamino. What do they [the public] see in me?’ He gave me his Glenn Ford type grin and his eyes filled up as I told him, ‘Sid, I don’t know but be thankful they do.’ I was with him on many of the occasions mentioned in this book. Obviously there are a few, when, in all honesty, I could not and should not have been there, but these were retold to me by Sid himself or, in some cases, by the male or female involved. I have not put myself in Sid’s story. The story is about Sid, not me. My pleasure and happiness come from writing about him. I am offering you a few snatches from his life, nothing more; some funny, some sad. After reading this book I hope you will remain a fan of Sid’s and a friend of mine. All the photographs are from my own private collection and have never been shown publicly before. Here, I would like to say a special thank you to Miss Victoria Fournier for long nights we had to spend together in her flat trying to get it right. Also to my darling wife, Joan, for her understanding. As Bela Lugosi said in the film Dracula (1931), ‘Listen to them, children of the night. What music they make.’
Harpenden, England 1981
Sid Lewis came into this world exactly the same way as any other child. He weighed eight and a half pounds and had a shock of black hair. The trouble was, as he used to say, ‘It wasn’t on my head, it was all under my left arm.’ His childhood was normal—lumps, bumps and mumps. His schooling was average—sums, bums and chums. He left school when he was fourteen and went to work behind the counter of a tobacconist’s shop, earning fifteen shillings a week and all he could inhale. Twice a week he went to dancing class in the evenings. He was, apart from another fourteen-year-old boy called Ashley (that was his first name), who became quite well known as a ballet dancer, the only other boy, with twenty-two girls between thirteen and eighteen years of age. He learned more about girls in four weeks, or eight lessons, than was good for a young lad of fourteen. The thirteen- to sixteen-year-old girls wanted to practise with him, while the sixteen- to eighteen-year-olds wanted to practise on him. His mother did say to his father, ‘He must be working hard at that dancing class, he comes home exhausted.’ At eighteen he went into the army and worked his way through the ranks from private to captain of the ATS. Private Betty Grassford and Captain Maureen Collins. He always wanted to make major but she wouldn’t let him. He remained a corporal. He came out of the army at twenty-two, took a month off, then got a job for a while as a postman, and slowly, through singing, doing a few jokes and reading the wanted ads in The Stage, came into show business via pubs, clubs and church halls, working to OAPs, talent competitions and one summer as a Red Coat at Butlin’s Holiday Camp in Clacton.
He was now hooked. Performing was the only thing he wanted to do, and a comedian he wanted to be. For a few years, including the early part of his marriage, Sid found it difficult to make ends meet. It’s sad to say that his wife Carrie was no real help to him. She never thought him really funny and on the rare occasions she saw him work he always seemed to ‘die the death’. She loved him, though, and when things were tough she worked as a waitress or in some kind of job that would bring some money in. The first year of their marriage she earned more than he did, but she didn’t understand his wanting to be in show business. She never complained, yet she never understood. Carrie just wanted him to be the type of husband that brought in enough money to live on, to pay the rent, and to go to Yarmouth for a few days every year, the same as her father had done. Sid used to say, ‘We only had one child because she found out what caused it.’
I don’t think there was very much passion between Carrie and Sid. Just a gentle love that never gave out any real heat. What Sid wanted to do all through his married life was ‘To become a star’. He wanted to be a star for Carrie but she couldn’t understand that. What she wanted was for him to be average. He couldn’t understand that. They both became reconciled to each other and over the years their