Ian Watt - Sunday Times - The Writing of "John Laurie, Frazer & I"

PRIVATE FRAZER GOES PUBLIC
by Ian Watt

A very private man

Our heroes shape us don’t they? We become more like those we revere and, as children, we probably gave them pride of place on our bedroom walls.

My early adult life was influenced by Pacino, De Niro and Nicholson. I also confess to having been drawn to the more tragic heroes, the flawed geniuses. How often we discover that these talented stars are also riddled with frailties or personal troubles that remove them from our mundane experiences of life.

It was in this frame of mind that I began researching the life of John Laurie. He is perhaps best known for his part in Dad’s Army, in which he was cast as the irascible, miserly undertaker Private Frazer. I knew little about his career but was aware he had been around for a long time. I was also prompted by comedian Charlie Chuck, another of my heroes, who suggested I write and star in a one-man play about Laurie. Something about me reminded Chuck of the veteran actor.

So that’s how it started. I began my research on the internet and it was all there: his childhood, his undistinguished naval career, even his romantic interlude with a globetrotting lass called Jessie. There was just one problem — it was all about Frazer. There was no autobiography, no biography of Laurie, just a few pages of facts on the Dumfries and Galloway Tourist Board website, and his obituary from The Times.

So I visited Dumfries, his home town, to see the small terraced house where he had lived and dig around in the town library. To be honest, I was hoping to find a colourful past, the occasional scandal, a drink habit — something a bit tasty. All I uncovered were a few articles from early in his acting career; not much to shout about. I was toiling.

Blessing in disguise

Help, though, was to come from an unexpected source — the church. The priest at The Priory church in South Queensferry let me use his church for rehearsals and, when he found out what the production was, told me he knew Laurie’s daughter. You could have knocked me over with a prayer book.

At first the daughter was suspicious of my interest. She had a deep affection for her father so I guess it is natural she would be a bit wary of how I would portray him. She described him as a man of wit and intellect with a real love of life. Not a bit like Frazer. He was also a private man with a mischievous sense of humour.

She came through with an outline of Laurie’s life, his childhood, war service and theatrical highlights. She also gave me an Edinburgh contact — someone who had worked with her father.

She turned out to be Laurie’s pianist, who played while he gave his many poetry recitals. She was even more suspicious of me. It was becoming obvious that while there were no skeletons to be found in the cupboards, this man had a spark that induced loyalty and affection.

Over tea, she recounted how he brought out the best performances from others. During their recitals he had encouraged her to throw the music away, to let it take over and have a life of its own. She treasured the memories.

Different kind of hero

Helpfully, a few Dad’s Army books were published at the end of 2001. They provided further details and anecdotes. One related in Graham McCann’s book Dad’s Army recounts his lines. He was pretty old then, although he was a year younger than Godfrey, played by Arnold Ridley. On occasion he would charge towards the audience, arms outstretched in contrite apology, declaring: “I’m such a silly old sod now!”

Laurie was nothing like my initial idea of a hero. But as I learned more about him, his happy and stable family life, his open-minded respect of people and his truly great talent, I realised it was my concept of what a hero was that needed changing.

There is much to admire in this man’s life. He could have been as bitter and cynical as Frazer, but decided instead to always look forward and appreciate how fortunate he had been. I would have loved to have met him, stayed in his company for a while. I hope I can do justice to his memory in this year’s Fringe.

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