After the Melbourne and Hobart seasons of Sleuth with Richard Todd and Gary Waldhorn I returned to the Melbourne Theatre Company to tour with a huge cast including Googie Withers, Frank Thring, Dinah Shearing, Simon Chilvers, Wendy Hughes, Irene Inescort, and Dennis Olsen in The Cherry Orchard—directed John Sumner and designed by Kristian Fredrikson; and An Ideal Husband directed by George Ogilvie and designed by Hugh Colman. Googie played Lyuba Ranevsky and Mrs. Chevely. The MTC was invited as part of the Perth Festival.
*Frederick (Freddy) Parslow—1932–2017—had started rehearsals for The Cherry Orchard playing Lopakhin. Also, he was to play Sir Robert Chiltern in An Ideal Husband. He was hospitalised with an attack of gallstones. It was his second gallstone incident. The first happened on stage during Old Times with Elspeth Ballantyne and Monica Maughan. Director Peter James had to go-on.
Frederick Parslow
Googie Withers in The Cherry Orchard
Simon Chilvers took-over from Freddy. He was superb in the Chekov. He struck exactly the right note of social aspiration and gaucheness. English by birth, it served him well as Sir Robert in the Wilde. Malcom Phillips replaced Simon as Simeonov-Pischik in The Cherry Orchard.
*On the opening night of An Ideal Husband at the Playhouse Theatre in Perth I had to go-on, with 5-minutes notice, for Rod Anderson. Given it was The Playhouse—where it all began for me—with Edgar Metcalfe, Rosemary Barr, Margaret Ford, Jennifer West, Peter Collingwood, James Beatty, Kirsty Child, Cornelia Francis, Diana Greentree, John Orcsik, Allan Lander, Anne Lucas, Nancy Nunn, and Peter Morris, it seemed an appropriate venue for a such a rare thing to transpire!
Allan Lander 1936–2013—Savannah Georgia USA aged 77.
RR with Frank Thring
Jennifer Claire
Rod Anderson failed to show. He fell asleep putting-on his socks! As I did my nightly, half-hour round of dressing rooms, Frank Thring, who called me Vera Vermicelli, said: “He’s not here—you might have to go on, Vera!” I laughed—never imagining. The MTC did not have understudies. When Lloyd Cunnington missed a performance of Brecht’s Galileo at the Russell Street theatre Diedre Rubenstein did it—without a rehearsal.
At the 10-minute call John Sumner asked: “Rock, do you know the part? If Rod doesn’t turn-up, you’ll have to go-on—the governor’s waiting in the foyer!” I said: “Of course I know it but tell His Excellency he’ll need to wait until I’m dressed.” It was January in Perth—high summer. Of the experience, I recollect longish blonde hair and being as brown as a berry; however, my biggest concern was not the part. I knew the words and moves—besides, Wendy Hughes was there to push me around the stage. It was Rod Anderson’s trousers. They were too short in the leg. I was very self-conscious. I got a huge laugh on the line: “I don’t think I should like that!” I am not sure why, but Rod never did! Jennifer Claire had one line, and I managed to cut that!
*Googie Withers died 2011 aged 94.
*Frank Thring died 1994 aged 68.
*Dinah Shearing died 2021 aged 93.
*Wendy Hughes died 2014 aged 61.
*Irene Inescort died 1992 aged 64.
*Esme Mount-Melville aka Esme Melville—died 2006 aged 88.
*Jennifer Claire died in Bali—2019. We did a number of plays. She was a free spirit—a force of life—and a good soul. She rolled her own cigarettes, and she never wore a bra or knickers!
*Also, gathered-up are Michael Duffield, Malcolm Phillips, and Ronald (Ronnie) Falk.
An Ideal Husband (l to r): Rod Anderson, Wendy Hughes, Simon Chilvers, Googie Withers, Frank Thring, Irene Inescort, Jennifer Claire, Sandra Lee Paterson, Ronald Falk and Janet Burnett. Tony Llewelyn-Jones is the footman with the tray. Top left—behind the pillar—the gloved-hand of Barrie Barkla!
Melbourne cast
Sydney cast
The Boys in the Band changed much about theatre—it encouraged serious debate about what was, and was not, acceptable; what audiences found funny. Their support was a manifestation of their willing to listen to thought-provoking conversation—however confronting.
On reflection, I had no concept of the significance of Matt Crowley’s play, The Boys in the Band. Axiomatically, I realised it was controversial—John Krummel and Charles Little ended-up in court—but I had no inkling it was changing the face of Australian theatre. I was 23. I was naïve.
The Boys in the Band, was a joint production between HMM and Aztec Services—Kenn Brodziak OBE. Directed by the late John Tasker, it opened 2 October 1968, Playbox Theatre, Phillip Street, Sydney—the old 2GB radio auditorium. The original cast was Henri Szeps, John Krummel, John Norman, Charles Little, Gerard Maguire, Kuki Kaa, Ross Osterlin, Max Albiston, and Vern Todd.
Kenn Brodziak OBE (left) and the Sydney cast of The Boys in the Band, with Henri Szeps centre
Mr. Brodziak and HMM attended the first dress rehearsal. Mr. Brodziak was appalled. At the end of the performance, he asked the actors to wait in their dressing rooms while he and HMM met with John Tasker. They went to a café. Mr Brodziak addressed Tasker in plain speak: “This is not the play I saw in New York, and unless it’s fixed it will not be opening.” John Tasker listened. He took the notes back to the actors. He redirected parts of the action and around midnight—or later—they started another dress rehearsal. It was miraculous. The show opened and was a triumph—a sell-out! It ran for seven-months then transferred to the Playbox Theatre, 55 Exhibition Street, Melbourne. Robert Essex and Ian Sprake replaced Ross Osterlin and Max Albiston.
In Melbourne the production sailed into troubled waters. While there was, undeniably, some curiosity/freak value in the production, it were as if Melbourne was on the dawning of an enlightenment—the illegality of homosexuality notwithstanding. Fascinatingly, reading The Boys in the Band, again, it is dated; a period piece. Today I doubt it would work. Watching the film version—which changed little of the dialogue from the play—it lacked a believability. Viewing it through the prism of 2025, it is best left as a 1960s trail-blazer. It paved the way. Today’s audiences would struggle to suspend their disbelief at the preposterous melodrama. The “woke” police would be apoplectic!
Vice squad detectives question John Krummel and Charles Little
Paradoxically, Victoria Police were fixated on the language—the ‘F’ and ‘C’ words! The moment in The Boys in The Band when two men kissed passionately caused some consternation—driving a few audience members to leave in a state of heightened agitation—but did not form part of the Victoria Police legal action. Charlie Little was quite brilliant as the limp-wristed Emery. His show-stopping entrance through the swinging doors wearing pink shorts with matching sweater, socks and sandshoes, came-in for special attention: “Who do you have to f*** to get a cup of coffee around here!” Tame by today’s standards—it was revolutionary in 1968-69.
Geoffrey Hutton, The Age newspaper theatre critic, reviewing The Boys in the Band, 4 June, said: “This is not a dirty play or a prurient, but it must be taken as a whole to be understood.”
First published in The Age on 21 June 1969:
Vice Squad Men Waited In Foyer As Four-Letter Words Flew: Two of ‘The Boys’ charged
Two Sydney actors have been charged with using obscene language during a Melbourne performance of the play The Boys in the Band.
Vice squad detectives served summonses last night on John Krummel, 26, and Charles Little, 28, at the Playbox Theatre in Exhibition Street.
A team of vice squad detectives sat through a performance of the play on Thursday night and then questioned Krummel and Little about some of the language they used on stage.
HMM, Garry Van Egmond, John Krummel and Kenn Brodziak leave court
The legalities went on for several months. June 19, 1969, John Krummel and Charles Little appeared in the Melbourne Magistrates’ Court, charged on the information of officers of the Vice Squad, with “using obscene language in a public place”. They were found guilty; however, the Magistrate dismissed the charges as “trifling”. The Vice Squad appealed in the Supreme Court—and won. Consequently, The Boys in the Band proved an important step in the breaking-down of Australia’s archaic censorship laws, being some of most draconian in the western world. Secretly, Australia banned thousands of books, including: Brave New World, Animal Farm, The Catcher in the Rye, Portnoy’s Complaint, James Joyce’s Dubliners and Ulysees, and to her delight—a couple of Jackie Collins’. It was the remit of the notoriously repressive Sir Arthur Rylah—Victoria’s Chief Secretary, to instigate the obscenity charges against Krummel and Little. He determined it was—having never seen The Boys in the Band, obscene. In the same manner, having never read it, Rylah banned Rudyard Kipling’s, Barrack-Room Ballads: “No, I haven’t read it,” he boasted, “but with a title like that it must be dirty!”
Rylah kept a stock of Playboy magazines in his office desk drawer. He delighted in showing them to journalist: “How would you like your teenage daughter to see that sort of thing”. When it was pointed-out he did not have a teenage daughter he retorted he could imagine! Sir Henry Bolte’s “Savanarola”, Rylah was an enigmatic character. His obsession with “smut” was unhealthy. His private life was not without public controversy.
The Boys in the Band played for a year at the Playbox Theatre without incident—excepting for the woman who wrote complaining the National Anthem—'God Save The Queen’—was not played at the start of the show! The unintended joke was not lost on HMM.
Unbeknownst, Vern Todd, who played the cowboy—Michael’s birthday present from Harold—was a wanted drug dealer. He fled the country, 1978, leaving a wife and two children. According to actor Michael Caton, a friend of Todd’s, he returned to Los Angeles and worked in a Toyota dealership under the alias of Frank Moloney. Later he owned and operated a Japanese restaurant in Laurel Canyon, LA.
*Vern Todd developed dementia. He died 2019 aged 76.
*Kuki Kaa 1938–2007 died aged 67 in New Zealand.
*John Charles Krummel OAM 1943–2023 aged 79.
Henri Szeps OAM 1943–2025 aged 81
*Robert Essex died 2024.
Revival cast
John Tasker
John Norman played Donald in the Melbourne and Sydney seasons. A fine actor, he and I acknowledged each other but never did, and for no reason, form any association. He was inscrutable. Some years following, John developed mental health problems which ultimately led to him being confined in a psychiatric institution. Purportedly, with Angel voices guiding him, John saw a workman’s circular saw on the floor of an open garage. He amputated the lower part of his right leg. Miraculously, he survived the ordeal.
Director John Tasker was riding the wave of success. HMM used him for several productions. He was in the grip-of-the-grape and proved problematic on the 1970 revival of The Boys in the Band. He missed days of rehearsal; consequently, the show was pedestrian. I was stage director. The cast was Gary Day, John Stanton, Allan Lander, Bryon Williams, Brent Vernon, Tom Stankovich, Rick Scully and Michael Springfield. John Tasker’s indifference—he was bored with the play—was potent. It was an unhappy experience.
At the Mercury Theatre, Newcastle several members of the Vice Squad came calling. They believed they had reason to be concerned about the content. They thought it would be more acceptable if the infamous line: “Who do you have to f*** to get a cup of coffee around here?” were changed to read: “Who do you have to suck et al…?” Somewhat taken aback, and I am surprised at my presence of mind—I was 23 and remembering I was in Newcastle—I explained that would be impossible without the express permission of the playwright. They nodded and departed. I never saw them again. It was a discombobulating encounter. HMM put a solicitor on stand-by. I was told to keep him informed. Nothing eventuated. I have since wondered—reflecting on the specificity of their concern—whether they were from the Vice Squad!
Patrick White's partner, Manoly Lascaris, acknowledged John Tasker as the 'virus' that re-infected White with the excitement of theatre. John ‘Tilly’ Tasker directed the premiere production of Patrick White’s Night on Bald Mountain (Adelaide 1964), with Joan Bruce and Alexander Archdale. Neil Armfield said: “The only time I had really seen Patrick and Manoly fight was when Manoly goaded Patrick about Tasker in front of me: ‘You say you hate him now, Patrick, but you were in love with him!’”
*John Tasker 1933–1988 aged 55. Cancer.
Poster for the 1969 movie-version of You Can’t See ‘Round Corners featuring Rowena Wallace and Ken Shorter; and Ken Shorter (right)
You Can’t See ‘Round Corners was a 26-episode television series, 1967, and a film, 1969. It starred Ken Shorter, Rowena Wallace, and Carmen Duncan. Based on Australian Jon Cleary’s 1947 book it was updated to the Vietnam War. It made stars of Ken and Carmen.
In 1969 Ken Shorter and Carmen Duncan appeared together at the Q Theatre in Lunchtime, by Leonard Melfi. Given the success of the film version of You Can’t See ‘Round Corners, they were an excellent coupling—and both were so attractive. A bare-torsoed Rex (Ken Shorter) seducing Avis (Carmen Duncan) the repressed housewife made for excellent box-office.
A two-hander with a simple plot: Avis, a rich and beautiful married woman lives in Greenwich Village. She is waiting for Rex, a good-looking, furniture repairman, also married, with a son. Both are unhappy and lonely. They convince themselves the memory of the afternoon is better than no memory at all.
Carmen Duncan was a client of HMM. He insisted I attend every performance.
*Ken Shorter—1945–2024. He was 79.
*Carmen Duncan—1942–2019 aged 76.
The Q was a 250-seat, lunchtime performance theatre on the ground floor of the AMP Building at Circular Quay. Under the artistic direction of Doreen Warburton it opened on 2 December 1963, with a production of Harold Pinter’s The Dumb Waiter. It played two-shows a day: one at 12-noon, another at 1pm. Admission three shillings (30-cents). By 1966 Q Theatre had mounted 17-original productions and expanded its working membership to 16 people, including two long-serving directors, Ron Ferrier and Peter Collingwood.
*Peter Collingwood—born May 1920. Died September 2016.
Peter and his wife, Margery Shaw, loomed large in my life. They were special! Peter had an encyclopaedic knowledge of the theatre.
The Q provided opportunities for younger directors including Jim Sharman, Rex Cramphorn, and Rick Billinghurst —with whom I did Danton’s Death at the Melbourne Theatre Company with Simon Chilvers, Dennis Olsen, Peter Adams, Jennifer Claire, John Derum, John Allen, Nancye Hayes, Gary Day, Barrie Barcla, Wendy Hughes, Sandra Lee Patterson, Malcolm Phillips, Michael Duffield, Irene Inescort, and Frank Thring.
I maintain I saved Tony Llewelyn-Jones’ life. Tony played a French aristocrat whom the revolutionaries hanged from a lamp-post. The technical director, Peter Roehlen, explained in detail the application of the hanging apparatus. I listened then said: “Why don’t you get one of your crew and show me. You’re not going to kill one of my actors!” He did—and they almost hanged the man. “Peter,” I said, “that could have been my actor!” I told them how to fix-it then turned and walked back to the prompt corner!
Ron Challinor
Pamela Stephenson
Assault with a Deadly Weapon by Lance Peters was a play in which Edgar was most interested. He applied for the rights for the Perth Playhouse. I ensured HMM agreed. The Australian premiere was directed by Jon Ewing. The cast was John Aitken, James Beattie, Ron Challinor, Jenny McNae, Edgar Metcalfe, and Pamela Stephenson.
Jon Ewing 1936–2014 aged 77.
Based on the 1955 Professor Orr case in Tasmania, Peters wrote the play in 1969. HMM secured the rights. Assault with a Deadly Weapon was to open in Melbourne. Legal opinion postponed it indefinitely.
HMM engaged the Australian born/London based director, Lionel Harris as director. He came to Australia in the summer of 1969 to work on the script. I was assigned to assist. Ensconced in the Sebel Town House we sorted-out, in terms specific, the boundaries of our working association! Consequently, we became life-long friends. Working on the script with Lionel was a creatively stimulating experience.
Bill Dowd
Tom Lingwood
It was serendipity which brought Lionel to Australia to work on Assault with a Deady Weapon. In the spring of 1955 Harris was signed by Garnet H. Carroll and H.M. Tennent London (Hugh “Binkie” Beaumont) to direct an Australian tour of Terence Rattigan’s plays Separate Tables and The Sleeping Prince, with Sir Ralph Richardson and his wife, Meriel Forbes, and Dame Sybil Thorndike, and her husband, Sir Lewis Casson. In the cast of The Sleeping Prince, was a young man whom Dame Sybil remembered as — “a lovely fellow, terrible actor”. It was Frederick (Freddie) J. Gibson — now the senior executive producer at Harry M. Miller Attractions.
The sets and costumes were designed by Tom Lingwood—one of the most versatile and skilled designers of his generation and the most important artistic influence in Australia's operatic life 1970–1990. He designed the opera War and Peace for the opening of the Sydney Opera House, 1973.
Lionel Harris was, I learned over the years, one of London’s most respected West End and television directors. The cannon of his work is prodigious and significant. It was he who introduced many of the British stage stars and plays to television.
Lionel Harris
18 Belsize Park, London
Lionel never married but some years before he died, he adopted a young lad who inherited the considerable estate. Patently, he was ignorant of, or disinterested in, Lionel’s theatrical and television pre-eminence. Joel Finler wrote in his online essay (recommended reading):
A Life Found in a Skip: Rediscovering Lionel Harris, TV Producer, Director and Actor
I first became aware of, and discovered Harris in 1988 when I rescued a large collection of his television scripts and other documents from a skip in Belsize Park Gardens, just around the corner from my flat and cinema archive in Belsize Square. Quickly sorting through the material, I realised these came from the flat of Lionel Harris who had lived at 18 Belsize Park. I put a note through the door regarding my find. I received a letter from the landlord who explained that Harris had died in 1985, and his adopted son, Marc, had no interest in the material. He cleared-out the flat and dumped the contents in the skip where I had found them. Recognising their potential value, I carefully packaged the papers and put them aside, intending to investigate further, and possibly write about my find at some future date. It was not until relatively recently, however, that I revived this project after arranging to donate the entire collection to the BFI National Archive (Special Collections), where they immediately recognised the unique value of the material.
Number 18 Belsize Park was a grand London house which had been sub-divided. Lionel occupied the ground floor with exclusive access to the rear garden. I visited regularly and spent many happy hours in the company of some of London’s most celebrated actors. Lionel, as they say, “knew everyone, and everyone knew Lionel.” His Sunday luncheons—he was a most generous host and kept a fine table—should have been filmed. I listened to the most extraordinary of theatrical tales. I marvelled at my good fortune. His library shelves were filled with annotated scripts from his stage and television productions. He gifted me his working script of The Corn Is Green. Someone borrowed it—I cannot remember by whom—and it has been lost.
*Lionel Harris—born Sydney, 1922. Died London, 1984.
HMM
The 1970s were exceptional. The creative energy was palpable. In retrospect—which can prove a miserable exercise—I recognise how youth is wasted on the young. I was in a position of unique advantage; however, I was so busy working and relishing every moment of the job I was blissfully ignorant. I was astonished when, years later, Collette Mann said: “We were all terrified of you!” While I am blessed with an excellent memory, I wish I had been more aware, more diligent—had taken the time to make and save notes. It was indescribably exciting.
Scanning the HMM list of productions on which I worked I doubt it would be possible today for beginner to be gifted such an opportunity. He paid us a pittance and worked us like navies. We learned the trade. I owe an unquantifiable debt of gratitude to Harry M. Miller, Freddie Gibson, Garry Van Egmond, Kenn Brodziak OBE, various British and American directors, and to several powerful London theatrical agents, including the revered, Laurence Evans—who had impeccable manners. He had been the production manager on Olivier’s film of Henry V. Together with Olivier and Ralph Richardson, Laurence Evans ran the Old Vic theatre. As an agent he represented Ingrid Bergman, Constance Cummings, Albert Finney, John Gielgud, Alec Guinness, Rex Harrison, Wendy Hiller, Celia Johnson, Vivien Leigh, John Mills, James Mason, Kenneth More, Laurence Olivier, Anthony Quayle, Ralph Richardson and Donald Sinden, and to whom he granted me privileged access on numerous occasions.
The Guardian obituary said: In 1960, Evans married for the fourth and last time, and, with the former Mary Campion, entered the happiest years of his life. They purchased Chesworth House, an impressive estate in Horsham, Sussex, once the home of Queen Catherine (Howard). Large parties and small gatherings were remarkable for their casual elegance and sparkling conversation.
They were, indeed—I was invited on a several occasions!
Laurence ‘Lol’ Ansdell Evans—1912–2002 aged 90.
Freddie Carpenter
Gordon Jackson and Rona Anderson
Sunday lunch at home in Hampstead with Gordon Jackson and wife Rona Anderson—they were the most delightful hosts—together with Kenneth Williams, Ronnie Waters(Gordon’s agent) with a voice like a fog-horn, and director Freddie Carpenter, were a rare and funny treat! Gordon’s nearest neighbours were Tom Conti and his actress/artist wife, Kara Wilson; and husband-and-wife acting team, the late Pauline Collins and John Alderton.
Garry Van Egmond was the Melbourne executive producer for Harry M Miller’s production of Michael Pertwee’s farce, Don’t Just Lie There, Say Something! starring Terry-Thomas. It was directed by Wallace Douglas, the Canadian producer, director and actor—and an acclaimed exponent of British farce. Between 1960-71 he directed 21-episodes for the BBC—Brian Rix Presents—featuring actor-manager Brian Rix and his Whitehall Farce theatre company. In the wake of Carry-On Sergeant—the first in the film series—Wallace Douglas adapted stage plays for television bringing farce to the British public. In 1966, after 16-years at the Whitehall theatre the Brian Rix/Whitehall company moved to the Garrick in Charing Cross Road for another 10-years.
Terry-Thomas
Sydney program for Don't Just Lie There, Say Something!
Don’t Just Lie There, Say Something! opened 7 September 1973, Metro, Orwell Street, Kings Cross. It transferred to the Metro Bourke Street, Melbourne.
In Melbourne, Garry invited the company to dinner at the Flower Drum—a stylish Chinese restaurant. Garry was seated next to Terry-Thomas in the private dining room. Kind and gentle Garry had impeccable manners. He never raised his voice. Rarely did he say anything unkind about anyone. One of Australia’s best-dressed—he bought most of his clothes from Jermyn Street, London, and the Via Condotti, Rome. Dutch by birth—he lived through the Nazi occupation of the Netherlands. The family almost starved to death. They survived on a diet of tulip bulbs. He, and his late wife, Rosie, were my dearest friends. For years I lived with them—on-and-off—at 38 St. George’s Road, Toorak. The cavalcade of stars who visited reads like a Who’s Who!
The cast dinner was proceeding splendidly. The maître d’ Gilbert Lau had excelled himself. Garry was satisfied the food and wine were of a standard. Apropos of nothing, Terry-Thomas turned to Garry and said: “I don’t like you!” Disquieted, Garry asked: “Really? Why not?” To Garry’s astonishment, and later amusement, he answered: “Because you’re a c***!”
Garry thought the comment too silly. Without missing a beat, he replied: “Never mind, I like you,” and went on eating his favourite lobster tails in ginger sauce. It was never mentioned between the two men. To the end of his days Garry never did understand what caused Terry-Thomas to behave so badly. It became a family joke. Rosie (his wife) and I reminded him, regularly: “Well—you know what Terry-Thomas thinks of you!”
Don’t Just Lie There, Say Something!: Alfred Marks, Deborah Grant, Joanna Lumley and Brian Rix in bed in the window of Maples Store, Tottenham Court Road, London
Terry-Thomas’s demise was sad. During the Melbourne season he felt most unwell. Garry arranged for his doctor Roy Richards to visit. Roy noticed a tremor in his left. With only weeks of the season remaining Dr. Richards correctly diagnosed the problem. He recommended Terry-Thomas visit a specialist on his return to the UK. Ultimately, he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. Such were the medical costs he ended his days in penury. A gala charity concert at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, raised 75,000-pounds. Sir Michael Caine was the chairman. Phil Collins topped the bill. The funds allowed for Terry-Thomas to vacate his charity flat and move into Busbridge Hall nursing home in Godalming, near Guildford, Surrey. Years later, I lived with Googie Withers and John McCallum in Godalming. They were doing The Circle at the Chichester Festival Theatre.
Terry-Thomas died 1990 aged 78.
Rosie Van Egmond
Stephen Flint Wood, HMM and Garry Van Egmond
My friendship with Garry Van Egmond dated from 1969. He was “boss”, and I was “Rocky”. Indeed, the friendship was such, when Rosie and I fell-out and it went on for some time, he telephoned and said: “Rocky, I’ve told Rosie, and now I am telling you—this has to stop! We are too important to each other. We’re having a barbecue for dinner and I coming to collect you.” And he did. When I walked into the kitchen Rosie said: “Hello, Rolly, darling,” and life went-on as normal. The glitch was never mentioned.
*Garry Van Egmond 26 January 1938–6 April 2024. There was a lack of specificity about Garry’s age; however, he was 86. He would have been delighted—most press coverage got it wrong!
*Rosie (Rosita Margaret) Van Egmond died August 2018.
During HMM’s incarceration I wrote him regularly. The letters were lengthy and filled with all the information and silly gossip which I know he enjoyed. He wrote me a number of times. I saved the letters.
Soon after HMM was released from custody he telephoned to say he was coming for a visit to Melbourne. He wanted to meet with me. I telephoned Irvin Rockman who owned and operated the Rockman’s Regency Hotel—and for whom I had work as a publicist when he opened the establishment. I explained: “Harry M. Miller is coming to Melbourne, and he’ll be staying at the hotel as your guest.” Without a moment of hesitation Irvin said: “Of course! Just tell him to sign for everything.”
HMM and I met for several dinners in the hotel dining room. Any thought of his incarceration was most disagreeable. I asked no questions. When he volunteered details of the experience I muttered, for the want of comment: “I can imagine.” HMM stared at me, locking-eyes in the way he did when he wanted to make contact and to be sure you were listening. He said: “No, you can’t imagine, Roland. You have no idea. Imagine the worst, then multiply it by 100!” I have forgotten most of what he said. It was too unpleasant. The balance of our relationship remained exactly — employer and employee! It’s how I liked it.
****
HAIR poster
Jim Sharman
HAIR opened in 1969. Metro Theatre, Orwell Street, King’s cross. There is a PhD thesis to be written on the trials and tribulations—the litany of daily vicissitudes—which enveloped the production. The eye of the maelstrom was hypnotic! HAIR was a musical unlike anything we had experienced. It radicalised the theatre. It set-off a nuclear-like chain reaction. It demonstrated what could be presented to an audience. Suddenly the theatre had no bounds. Under the direction of Jim Sharman HAIR proved revolutionary. In London, even the teenage Princess Anne jumped-out of her seat at the end of the performance and danced onstage with the cast! That unexpected reaction—the royal imprimatur—gave the show an international legitimacy. HAIR had arrived. Paradoxically, the show is now a period piece. Its specific zeitgeist has slipped into the ether. The world has moved-on. HAIR is happily languishing in its heyday — remembering how it changed the world. It has every reason to rest on its artistic laurels. How many musicals can claim to have stopped a War?
The creative freedom afforded the cast was alien in every known theatrical shape and form. HMM took complaints seriously. Always he tried to satisfy the wittering. The cast did not hesitate to present at the George Street office to make-known their grievances. Their degree of demand was directly proportional to the success of the show. Consequently, they wanted more money. To Reg Livermore’s disbelief the cast went on strike for one performance. Keeping the wheels of performance turning required assiduous perseverance and an Herculean effort. It did not happen by osmosis!
So much has been written about HAIR there is little philosophical commentary to add; however, I have a trove of anecdotal recollections which are not necessarily on the public record—and which may have benefited from the passage of time—fact and fiction have a habit of becoming clouded! Sadly, I was only 22. I was not fully cognisant of what I had been gifted. I do remember it was exhilarating.
It was an experience which created a lasting family of people…
Marcia Hines—Happy Birthday, Abie Baby!
Reg Livermore and Wayne Matthews
Marcia Hines has enjoyed a remarkable career! She arrived from Boston, aged 16. HMM was her legal guardian until she was 21. When stage director Sandra McKenzie confronted her about getting “chubby” and said she needed to start dieting, she burst into tears: “I’m pregnant.” Marcia is still a friend. We talk regularly and meet when possible. She invited me as her only guest when she became an Australian citizen. It was quite a moment!
The birth of Denni Hines—or was it Hali Gordon—which created a baby-boom? Suddenly everyone was having a baby, including Paula Maxwell and Wayne (Aaron) Cull; Audrey Keyes; Denni and Tony Gordon.
*Aaron Wayne Cull—1948–2025 aged 76.
At one of HMM’s early-morning, weekly production meetings the publicity director of HAIR asked a profoundly stupid question. It took HMM a nanosecond to realise she did not know about the OM (the chanting) at the beginning of the show. Even worse—it became patently obvious she had not taken time to see the show! He was most irritated and ordered her to see it—immediately, but not without making her look extremely silly!
When he announced tickets prices other theatre managements were astonished. They scoffed: “No-one will pay that much for a ticket!” How wrong they were! HAIR ran for almost two-years at the Metro, Orwell Street, Kings Cross. It sold-out for every performance. He sold standing room at the back of the stalls. The demand was even greater when its closing was announced.
Metro Theatre, Orwell Street on pay day!
HAIR Performance times:
Monday-Thursday 8.30pm. Friday and Saturday performances took their toll. Friday 5.40pm and 9pm. Saturday 2.15pm and 8.30pm. Tickets were: $2.50 $3.50. $4.50 Matinees: $2.00 $3.00 $4.00
HMM instructed me to attend three nights—two performances on Friday, and two on Saturday. I was HMM’s eyes-and-ears. Still, I remember the delight of escaping the theatre at about 11 o’clock on hot Friday and Saturday nights and walking-out into the fresh air of Orwell Street. The Cross was pulsating—Darlinghurst Road was filled with young American soldiers on R&R from the Vietnam War.
Between shows on Friday HMM provided a buffet in the theatre’s under croft for the cast and crew. The food was delicious—much of it was vegetarian.
The American imports were paid $120 a week, plus a $40-per week living-away from home allowance. The remainder of the cast were paid between $80-$100. Reg Livermore was paid $85 a week.
Reg saw his sister, Helen, in a dress rehearsal of HAIR and was keen to join the cast. Director Jim Sharman was out of the country. Stage director Sandra McKenzie arranged for him to audition for the musical director Patrick Flynn. When Jim returned, he saw the show and noticed Reg in the tribe. Soon after Reg was given one performance a week as Berger. Eventually, Jim settled on two sets of principals: Berys Marsh, Keith Glass, and Wayne Matthews; and Jennie Cullen, Reg, and John Waters. Keith left the show on the day his contracted expired. He was done with HAIR. He had a notion he was being undermined. It wasn’t so.
David Pepperell and Keith Glass outside Archie ‘n’ Jughead
Graham “Fluffy” Matters as Woof
After leaving HAIR Keith Glass and David Pepperell established Archie ‘n’ Jughead—a much-needed rock record shop. They imported from the United States stock which was not readily available in Australia. They broke the strangle-hold of the record companies.
Reg became the principal Berger. He said of the show: “Hair was an entirely liberating experience, as much for the audience as it was for the performer. Once I saw it I knew that was where I wanted to belong, that there had to a place for me on that stage; I had to get into it, some way somehow. I'd wanted to change the usual parameters of the actor's life in Australia anyway, certainly as they affected my own career, to venture beyond possibilities as they'd presently existed. It really was a case of time and tide in alignment. Over the two and a half years I was a member of the cast I was able to launch my individual stage style, to consolidate the artistic resources that were to carry me forward and put me at the forefront of Australian show biz.”
Of the famous nude scene Reg said: "I just stood next to a big black man ... nobody looked at me."
Also, Graham “Fluffy” Matters—1948–2021 aged 72—played Woof in Sydney, Berger in Melbourne.
Costume design for Nancye Hayes in Tonight at 8.30
Reg Livermore
Reg came to Melbourne when the show transferred to the Metro Bouke Street. He played it for three-months then left to join the Melbourne Theatre Company for a production of Noel Coward’s Tonight at 8.30, performing Red Peppers, Shadow Play, and Family Album. Reg co-starred with Nancye Hayes, and the cast of John Derum, Ronald Falk, Michael Duffield, Wendy Hughes —her song had to be cut she could not sing a note, Irene Inescort, Tony Llewelyn-Jones, Sandra Lee Patterson; designed by Hugh Colman. Directed by Rick Billinghurst the production was found to be wanting. It was not a happy experience for anyone.
At the end of the MTC season Reg realised he was missing HAIR. He joined the company in Wellington. He went on with no rehearsal playing Berger. On returning to Australia, he did Perth and Adelaide.
Sharon Redd, Charlene Collins and Denni
Helen Livermore, Inez Amaya and Marcia Hines
Sadly, as the end loomed the company disintegrated. The African-American imports were unhappy with the roles they were playing — indeed, they wanted to play only leads. Chuck McKinney was playing Claude. The situation became so fraught — the morale so jaded—Reg left the theatre and stayed home for a week. HMM and Garry Van Egmond convened a meeting to resolve the impasse. Harry refused to release Reg from his contract—insisting he play the opening night in Brisbane. Reg did the one performance and left. The reviews made critical mention of HMM using Reg in the advertising knowing he would not be there after the opening night.
Reg Livermore is a star—more so than many of those imports on whom I was directed to dance attendance. To be in the audience and to feel the wash of Reg Livermore’s riveting energy is the most thrilling experience. Had he achieved in England or America what he has accomplished in Australia he would be an international star of such repute. Reg says of his time in HAIR: “It taught me to be adventurous an actor.”
Wayne Matthews who played Claude was an Australian ballet school trained classical dancer. There was a moment in the show when various of the characters named their heroes. Wayne named Rudolf Nureyev. He surprised the cast when he executed a perfect double tour en l’air—a movement which involves the dancer starting from 5th position in plié, jumping straight-up into the air, at the same time making two full-turns, and landing in 5th. Not easy!
The Tribe
Berys Marsh—a finalist in the Miss Lux Beauty Contest, 1958—alternated the role of Sheila with Jennie Cullen who married John Waters—the alternate Claude. Berys and Reg Livermore were the oldest members of the cast. Reg was born 1938. Berys was, it is thought, older than Reg. She was vague about her dates!
Berys hated the nude scene. Always, she managed to stand behind a male to hide her from view. Berys left a blanket in the wings to cover her modesty as she made her way back to the dressing room. Graham Matters delighted in removing it—leaving her to scamper naked up the flight of steps and along the corridor. For the run of the show in Melbourne, Berys lived with me in Caroline Street, South Yarra. Every Sunday she prepared a delicious bread and butter pudding—and every Sunday I raved—until I found the add-milk-and-stir instant mixture packaging in the kitchen bin! She displayed no sign of remorse!
Ken Gregory—whom I worked at The Playhouse in Perth—was production stage manager for the entire run of the show.
Jimmy Mann joined the Melbourne season as a stagehand and became an assistant stage manager. He stayed with the show for the tour of New Zealand and Australia. He and Marcia Hines were partners for five-years. Jimmy was one of nature’s gentle souls. He hied from stomach cancer.
The assistant stage manager, Laurie Maund, went to live in Thailand and became a Buddhist monk. He was much revered for his good work in the villages during the AIDS epidemic. Marcia Hines twice visited him in Thailand. He left the monastery and adopted a Thai boy, Bank. Laurie died from respiratory problems. He was a given an official funeral.
Colin Setches was the resident Alpha Male of HAIR. He had a second job working as a garbo in the days when the guys ran behind the truck picking-up and emptying the bins into the back of the moving vehicle. He was earning a huge amount of money. Colin had an onstage propensity for whipping-out his appendage and twirling it like a propeller! He was most agreeable.
Director Jim Sharman went to a Saturday matinee. He was appalled. There were cast members whom he had not approved and never met. He went backstage and fired three of them. It created a seismic shock. The collective commitment to performance was sometimes lackadaisical. That night, with the prospect of dismissal hanging heavy in the air, the show was electric.
There was a bomb scare on the opening night. An anonymous caller warned of two smoke-bombs hidden in the seat padding. A squad of police arrived inspected for ten-minutes then went. It was a hoax.
Teddy Williams
Of the Americans …
It was only a matter of time before the imported Americans realised they could do exactly as they liked. There were no replacements and we had to dance to their tune. If they did not want to be on stage for a number—or even sing a solo—they stayed in their dressing room. Often, they said: “I don’t feel like it.” Marcia was the exception. At a moment’s notice she sang ‘What a Piece of Work is Man’ with Teddy Williams. It was electric!
Teddy Williams decided he wanted to be circumcised. It was not as a simple a procedure as he supposed. Such was the pain he could not walk and was out of the show for some weeks! Teddy Williams died in New York.
Sharon Redd decided her hippy character was enjoying a degree of financial success. In the colder weather she would, sometimes wear her full-length, fur coat on stage! Quite what the audience made of it is anyone’s guess.
After HAIR, Sharon was one of the Harlettes—the backing-singers for Bette Midler’s stage show.
Sharon Redd’s death, pneumonia, 1992 aged 46, was AIDS-related. While on stage she stood on broken glass and her compromised immune system could not fight the infection.
In April 1971, Sharon and Teddy Williams were asked by the Immigration Department to leave Australia. Both believed it was race-motivated. In truth, they had failed to follow Australian immigration policy.
Tomay Fields attracted some audience attention when he stood stark-naked on stage. Even in the half-light the audience could not fail to notice—and be impressed! He died in New Zealand. He fell from a cliff on the side of a mountain.
Sharon Redd
Chuck McKinney
Chuck McKinney was one of the original six imports. When HAIR closed 1973 Chuck, and his wife, Maggie, also a cast member, formed the Hot City Bump Band with four local musicians. Chuck appeared on John Farnham's 1990 album, Chain Reaction, and toured as a back-up singer in the John Farnham Band.
Chuck McKinney died 1994.
Black American, Karolynn Jean Hill—whom one never saw without a full stage make-up, including absurdly long eyelashes—top and bottom—and a white line painted down the middle of her face went home to the US at the end of her contract. Her mother—who was backstage for every performance—opened one of the first soul food restaurant in Sydney. Karolynn spent little time with the cast and showed no interest in being part of the company. She was an enigmatic girl and not especially enthusiastic about doing the show. Her attitude was odd. She missed a number of performances and regularly badgered me with ideas for advancing her profile. Her US career faltered. For a time, she worked on a make-up counter on Hollywood and Vine, LA.
Michael Angelo Gerald Springfield 111 and HMM Attractions’ publicity director Sandy Patterson were partners They had a child. Sandy and HMM parted acrimoniously. A newspaper column item revealed details of a contretemps between HMM and Michael. He suspected—not without cause since it happened privately—Sandy had leaked the details to the journalist. It reflected badly. HMM was ruthless if disloyalty were proven. Sandy was gone from the office within the hour.
Following HAIR, Michael was in the revival production of The Boys in the Band. No amount of my cajoling and creative explanation could convince him to stereotypically play the line: “Massa, I’z comin’ jus’ as fass I can!” Paradoxically, he wore his underpants on his head during one number. He argued it was an African/American practice to prevent dust in the hair while cleaning! It was hard to argue.
It would not be a harsh exaggeration to say Michael did sometimes confuse aspiration and outcome. For a time, we were neighbours in Tivoli Road, South Yarra. We met in-passing. Always there was news of a film with Sylvester Stallone, Paul Newman, or Eddie Murphy. From the days of our first encounter, it became apparent there was invariably a component of daydream in his conversations. Michael was not without talent.
*Michael Gerald Springfield-Thomas 1947–2017. He was 69.
One of the original American cast members, Charlene Collins, married Dick Diamonde bass guitarist of the Easybeat at Sydney’s Wayside Chapel. The reception was held at Caesar's Place. Before coming to Australia, Charlene Collins was in the Netherlands production of HAIR directed and choregraphed by Oliver Tobias, who played Berger. In 1976 Tobias came to Australia for the Television series, Luke’s Kingdom, directed by Peter Wier. The cast included Helen Morse, James Condon, and Gerard McGuire.
The original band was Tully +4—1969-January 1970.
Michael Carlos (keyboards), Terry Wilson (vocals, guitar, flute), Robert Taylor (drums), Ken Firth (bass).
with Mick Barnes (guitar), John Sangster (percussion), Keith Hounslow (trumpet), and Bobby Gebert (trumpet).
They were replaced.
Luke’s Walnut—1970–1971
John Bradstock (guitar), Lance Dixon (keyboards),
Laurie Pryor (drums), Russell Smith (trumpet), Reno Tehei (bass).
The HAIR posters were a four-colour print run. They cost about 10-cents each and HMM charged $2. They sold like hotcakes. The cash went straight into his pocket—as did the 15-cent booking fee from the box-office—approximately $1000-per week.
HMM
HMM with Marcia
Epilogue…
Garry called. “Rocky, Tricky (Simon Dickie) just phoned me. Harry’s dead.” We talked. It took time to make sense. We reminisced. I remembered our last conversation. I appreciated.
Harry M. Miller was an impresario. He granted me unfettered access. Even after firing me, he still employed me in Melbourne. Our association lasted exactly 50-years. I was smart enough to recognise—I listened and I learned. I reckon I had the best years of his creative life—and his years of greatest influence. I thank him every day for the opportunities he created in my life—and for my good fortune to have known him as I did. I have met and worked with many of the best. None has exactly matched the late Harry M. Miller.
It is a cruel turn-of-fate for a man with such an eye for detail and retention should have developed dementia. In the final chapter there were opportunities—Carmen Duncan suggested we visit together. I chose not. I want only to remember as he was at 647 George Street, Haymarket, Sydney—at his zenith—sparkling and charismatic. A meteorite. Irresistible. I was besotted.
Sadly, Garry Van Egmond and Harry M. Miller were irrevocably estranged over a serious financial anomaly arising from the 1992 joint production of Jesus Christ Superstar, on which I worked in Melbourne.
At the time of HMM’s memorial service Garry contemplated for some days: “I haven’t decided yet, Rocky”. I implored. Ultimately, he yielded. We travelled to Sydney and attended together with Patti Mostyn—at the Capitol Theatre—the home of the original Jesus Christ Superstar. The theatre was painted Superstar Brown—a colour created by the paint company and HMM.
Garry and I were not consulted, nor were we invited to make any contribution. It mattered. We resented, deeply, the most important creative decades in the annals of Harry M. Miller’s truly remarkable story—the 1960s and 70s—were not represented at his farewell—excepting for Marcia Hines singing, ‘I Don’t Know How to Love Him’, from Superstar. It occurred they had no understanding of who and what he represented in those days. We followed in his wake! I was an exceptionally lucky lad!
Harry Maurice Miller died 4 July 2018. He was 84.
