Happiness? Ken brought the gift of fun to theatre
SHORT of the Beatles reforming for one night only, there could have been fewer big name attractions to reopen the newly renovated Everyman theatre than Ken Dodd.
At the end of April 2011 Cheltenham’s Victorian gem of an entertainment palace had closed curtains and shut shop to make way for major building work that involved structural reconfigurations and refurbishment of the lavish interior.
Five months later and three million pounds spent, the theatre was set to get back to business. And as the country’s most celebrated elder statesman of mirth making, Ken Dodd was just the ticket to make the announcement that the Everyman was once more open to everyone.
All 670 seats for the show were sold out in three hours with ticket prices ranging from £21 to £26. Lucky old me had one because I was on duty to write the review for the Echo and Citizen. I was secretly hoping that the show wouldn’t overrun by too much as the review had to be written and submitted immediately afterwards.
But as was widely known, Ken Dodd’s shows always overran, usually by hours. People who’d seen him perform before advised taking a flask and sandwiches. Ordering a taxi too, because by the time he walked off stage the last bus was certain to be back at the depot.
As always with the restoration of venerable buildings there had been much debate about what the work was aiming to achieve. Geoffrey Rowe, the theatre’s chief executive said at the time, trying to make the building a copy of itself when first constructed in 1891 wasn’t an option.
The original plans by renowned theatre architect Frank Matcham, who was responsible for the Everyman and numerous other theatres including the London Palladium, were lost.
And anyway, the theatre had been changed piecemeal, inside and out, since the 1930s.
Added to that, what was needed was a building to suit the demands of the 21 century, such as air conditioning.
Despite his advanced years, he was 84, Ken Dodd bounced onto the stage wearing safari suit and pith helmet, banging a big bass drum and singing energetically. Then came a tirade of gags delivered at the pace of a gattling gun.
Even if you weren’t a fan, one of Ken’s jokes was bound to tickle you before long on the law of averages.
The one that hooked me was when Ken quipped “I’ve been watching a couple in the front row here sharing a bag of humbugs and she’s just eaten a button off his cardigan”.
From that moment I was putty in the master’s hands, like all the other 669 people in the audience.
On that opening night, members of the audience found a front of house interior that had been transformed and modernised. Needless to say the work didn’t meet with applause from all, but traditionalists were appeased by the auditorium, which was as crisp and sharp as a Victorian new pin.
Looking up and around at the restored fibrous plaster work, embellishments and decoration, Ken Dodd summed the project up by quipping “It’s like being inside a Christmas cake”.
Backstage had been rebuilt, structural improvements made and a new lighting system installed along with new seating. Funding for the regeneration came from a half million pound VAT refund, the Heritage Lottery and Cheltenham Borough Council.
A local reference Ken Dodd could have made, but didn’t, was that “Love is like a violin”, one of his top 20 hits, was written by Cheltenham resident Jimmy Kennedy.
Ken Dodd played the Everyman a number of times and also appeared at the ABC Regal in Gloucester. In 1964 he starred on stage at the King’s Square cinema for six nights supported by Rosemary Squires and Joe “Mr Piano” Henderson, then returned in 1972 for three nights.
My hope that Ken wouldn’t go on for too long, of course, was in vain.
The onslaught of gags and silliness continued long into the night, after which 670 people emerged from the revamped Everyman exhausted, but tickled.
Interior photos of the Everyman’s restoration are taken from “A theatre for all seasons” by Michael Hasted, Northern Arts Publications, 2011.