How the Queen Mum nearly cost me my job
LUCKILY I have many photos from my long broadcasting career but the one in this column is one of my favourites – the day the Queen Mother posed with my Central TV film crew for a ‘team shot’.
With the help of Her Majesty’s Royal jump jockey Terry Biddlecombe and Private Secretary Sir Martin Gilliat, I made an ITV documentary of the Queen Mother’s love of National Hunt Racing entitled ‘Royal Champion.’
It was my idea and I was the producer with Terry as programme consultant.
The screening on the eve of the 1987 Grand National attracted more than seven million viewers.
The story behind the picture was that although there was a good budget for the project the problem would have been the huge amount of time interviewing all the trainers and jockeys involved with Her Majesty’s racehorses around the country.
So I asked the trainer Fulke Walwyn and his wife Kath, if Central TV funded it, would they be kind enough to host a cocktail party for everyone which we would film. They agreed and so did the trainers, jockeys and the Queen Mother who admired them all.
I cheekily asked Sir Martin if he thought Her Majesty would join my film crew, Terry and myself for a photo. The Queen Mother readily agreed.
There had been one major problem within Central that nearly cost me my job! The Queen Mother had only given one previous television interview and it had been made clear to me that she would never give another. I was gambling on changing that.
My supportive boss, Central’s Programme Controller Andy Allan, asked me to his office for a progress report. Knowing the score he asked: “Have you obtained an interview?” When I said “not yet”, he added: “Do not come back here until you have one.”
I offered Biddlecombe a £1,000 bonus if he was able to pull it off. Halfway through the cocktail party Terry came up to me and said: “You owe me a grand! And I am doing the
The Queen Mother had only given one previous television interview and she would never give another. I was gambling on changing that.
jolly (chat) with her!” It was only the second – and the last – interview the Queen Mother gave.
The other problem we faced was the worry that Her Majesty, despite enjoying the film, might be anxious about it before millions were to watch it on ITV.
So we hired the private BAFA cinema in London’s Piccadilly for a preview and invited the Queen Mother, 150 of her friends, my bosses and my crew. At the last moment Sir Martin rang with two requests.
By now I was learning the way he put things. He referred to the Queen Mother as ‘the Boss’ and the ‘employer.’ He was a prisoner of war in the famous Colditz Castle although he did not talk about it. When I asked him which school he had attended, he replied: “The one on the banks of the River Thames” which I assumed correctly was Eton. He referred to the Queen ‘as the eldest daughter.’
He was the Queen Mother’s Private Secretary for 37 years and did a brilliant, dedicated job.
So he rang the day before the BAFA screening with those requests.
“Gary, the eldest daughter finds herself unexpectedly free tomorrow afternoon. She has asked if she can attend?”
I was blown away. “Of course Sir Martin we will all be delighted for the Queen to join us!”
Then he reminded me that this an unofficial, private function and that they were due to attend an official event elsewhere in the evening. What catering had we agreed?
I reminded him that his party just wanted a few sandwiches and a few urns of tea! He came back. “Do you think one bottle of Bolly (Bollinger Champagne) would be a good idea, Gary?”
I got the message. “Certainly do, Sir Martin.”
“Splendid. The Boss is looking forward to it.”
Then I asked my secretary Olivia to order 120 bottles of the Champagne on sale or return.
After the event only 40 bottles remained unopened and none of the sandwiches or tea were touched! There was one more twist.
Sir Martin told me: “The Boss would like a maximum of 15 of your crew to come to Clarence House on Wednesday for tea.”
We duly did and took a DVD of the film. As we left the Queen Mother’s home afterwards the penny dropped.
What they were meaning without saying was: loved making the film, very pleased with the finished product. We liked you all but that’s it. Goodbye ....
It was done with style.
The only subject that Her Majesty would not discuss was the unexplained fall on the straight of her horse Devon Loch just short of the winning line in the 1956 Grand National with victory looking certain. But I did get an interview with the jockey Dick Francis, later the bestselling novelist.
The Queen Mother was 87 at the time; Sir Martin 74. It was certainly a highlight of my career.