The Daily Telegraph - Features
The £40 million showbiz showdown you couldn’t make up
How the fight for control of an illustrious actors’ charity became a star-studded, high-drama farce for the ages.
Affectionately dubbed “the Actors’ Church”, St Paul’s Covent Garden is seen as the epitome of a theatrical sanctuary: an Inigo Jones temple from 1633 that houses the ashes of some of the greats (Ellen Terry and Edith Evans included), and a plethora of memorials to them.
Yesterday, though, it played host to an extraordinary general meeting of the Actors’ Benevolent Fund (ABF) – a long-established charity that raises and distributes money for members of the profession in financial need. And in so doing it provided a stage for the latest scene in a real-life thespian drama stuffed with acrimonious intrigue, which has seen some of Britain’s bestloved actors facing accusations of intimidation, and household names reportedly barred entrance to high-level meetings.
At the heart of the dispute is a clutch of long-standing trustees, including Penelope Keith, Siân Phillips and James Bolam, star of the 1970s sitcom Whatever
Happened to the Likely Lads?, who are bitterly aggrieved at being “ousted” from the ABF’s governing council last year – their outrage vented in words like “hijack” and “Kafka-esque”. After months of vocal discontent, the story continues to attract speculation. Last week, it was reported that this influential group of veterans had upped the ante by threatening a legal challenge against the Charity Commission, which has endorsed a new council leadership chaired by actor Esh Alladi, who also replaced Keith as president (an illustrious role taken in the past by John Gielgud and Laurence Olivier).
As a result, the commission stands accused of over-reach and mishandling the case.
For some, of course, there’s an innate entertainment value to the rift. The cluster of sitcom names – with Brian Murphy, who played George in George and Mildred, also part of the displaced group – invites levity and flip parallels. All these years later, is Keith displaying shades of busybody Margo in The Good Life?
But sources close to those who now describe themselves as the “Excluded Trustees”, say they are in deadly earnest. “This is not a Punch and Judy show,” one is recorded saying. “We’re not just going to go away.” The stakes are raised by the fact that the King is the ABF’s patron, having taken on the role in 2000 from the Queen, who had given it 47 years of service.
After one fractious meeting, Bolam himself is reported to have grimly quipped: “I have to go to the dentist. I am quite looking forward to it.” In truth, in its combination of personal upset and generational rifts, this is a saga that blends farce and tragedy.
On the one hand there are complex questions about governance – with Keith’s side claiming a lack of due process in their ousting. On the other, the trustees accused of launching the alleged “coup” express a desire for a change seen as too long in coming – wanting the fund to help far more people deemed vulnerable (in contrast to relatively small numbers hitherto), with greater public benefit, more diversity in the council itself and an end to the very long (“perpetual”, as they call it) trusteeships of Keith and others. The crisis can be traced back to a breakdown in cordial relations between Keith, who was made president in 1990, and the ABF’s former general-secretary Jonathan Ellicott, appointed in 2016. With about 750 members, the fund, established in 1882 by Henry Irving, enjoys a robust position. With net assets in 2021 of almost £40million, it spends more than
£1 million a year helping eligible candidates with bills and support – around
75 per cent of the beneficiaries are over 60. Still, in 2021, demands for more clarity on fiscal matters seem to have become too much for Ellicott who reportedly wrote to Keith, stating: “I feel that some of your actions... have been upsetting, intimidating and undermining towards me. I have experienced bullying, harassment and victimisation.”
Though
Keith and fellow trustees were cleared of bullying and the other allegations by an independent inquiry, dissension ensued about Ellicott continuing in the role. Keith – who has declined an interview request – reportedly became reluctant to chair proceedings because of the acrimony.
Matters came to a head at a council meeting in February 2022. When the 10 trustees present who held officer positions abstained from voting for their own reinstatement as a matter of course, the remaining 11 trustees voted 9-2 against that reinstatement, thus clearing the decks. Hence the accusations of a “coup”. One of the nine, the actor (and NHS A&E doctor) Esh Alladi, went on to
At the heart of the dispute are longstanding trustees aggrieved at being ‘ousted’ from the council
become president in September that year. At 39, roughly half the age of Dame Penelope, he was bracketed as part of a younger faction, usurping the “old guard”.
A spokesman for the ABF attempts to frame it in less diametric terms: “Everyone involved shared the same values, in terms of wanting to help more people. The dispute was about the best way of achieving that. As part of good governance you need to have a renewal of the board. There was a difference of opinion as to whether those ‘voted off ’ could remain as trustees. We sought legal advice, which suggested they couldn’t do so.” There’s no denial that emotions consequently ran very high. “We empathise with the sense of hurt – the feeling of being thrown out.”
The Charity Commission got involved in March 2022, after complaints and the ABF’s own submitted “serious incident report”, and Ellicott stepped down then too. In April this year, after lengthy investigations, the commission upheld the appointment of the trustees, based on the votes cast at the last AGM in December – albeit the process was affected by the postal strike – but also stipulated that a fresh election be held at the end of this year.
Until then if not after, the rancour seems destined to rumble on. Actors, seldom shy of public speaking, can’t be relied on to keep mum. Miriam Margolyes has waded into the row recently – railing: “I think it is shocking that they were treated with such contempt.”
Among the worst optics, so far as the ABF is concerned, came last May when Dame Siân Phillips, star of I, Claudius, and another actress, Rosalind Shanks, were turned away by security when they tried to attend a council meeting at the ABF HQ. It was reported that the doorman had been issued with photos of those – Keith and Bolam included – not to be admitted. In its defence, the ABF spokesman says: “Some of the former trustees continued to try to attend our confidential council meetings. A greeter was at the door and they were politely told they would not be admitted.”
If exasperation is high among the erstwhile “top-brass”, frustration has been expressed by the commission itself. In a recent statement, its CEO Helen Stephenson talked of costly distractions: “I see too many cases that revolve… around fractious arguments, often involving two or more warring parties with differing visions for the future of the charity, and often crystallising around disputes as to who the rightly appointed trustees actually are…”
How far Keith and co can go in legal terms is open to question. From their side, clearly, they view their battle as one of principle – demanding due rigour be applied to the democratic process – rather than just pique. “We seek… fairness, good-order, transparency,” they claim.
The impact thus far on the ABF doesn’t appear to be catastrophic – I’m told that donations haven’t abated despite the turmoil. But it seems the ABF’s priorities are changing. Alongside a cost of living crisis that, a spokesman says, means “a vast range of people need help with the bills, or the rent, things they suddenly can’t afford” there is also ideological modernisation – the current council has argued for greater diversity and stated that the former office holders dismissed a proposal for “unconscious bias training”. The Telegraph understands that the former office holders deny this allegation.
The tussle that has engulfed this small organisation expresses wider antagonism over such subjects, with those at the bottom of the ladder particularly vulnerable, while those with years of service behind them feel slighted and discounted. The result, notes Helen Stephenson, has been “arguments that might have been settled, had trustees shown goodwill and commitment, and a willingness to compromise their position”. But where would be the drama in that?