The day LGBT protestors disrupted Six O’Clock News
Monday, May 23, 1988, had been a day much like any other for the team at the BBC’s Six O’Clock News – until the opening titles started running and the theme music began playing, that is. As the UK’s most-watched news programme, at the time, began broadcasting live to the nation, two of four female protestors burst into the studio. One chained herself to the remotely-operated camera, the other to the desk where presenter Sue Lawley was introducing the news.
As Lawley continued to read the headlines, out of vision her co-presenter Nicholas Witchell sat on one of the women and put his hand over her mouth to muffle her protests. Senior television news executives rushed in with a hacksaw to remove the women’s handcuffs.
As all that was going on, Sue Lawley was left to apologise to viewers, saying: “I do apologise if you’re hearing quite a lot of noise in the studio at the moment, I’m afraid that we have rather been invaded by some people who we hope to be removing very shortly.
“In the meantime, if you can possibly ignore the background noise, we’ll bring you the news as best we can.”
The women were taken to Shepherd’s Bush police station but were later released without being charged. They said they were protesting against Section 28 of the Local Government Act, a clause which was to come into effect at midnight, which banned local councils from promoting homosexuality and schools from the teaching of the acceptability of homosexuality.
At the previous year’s Conservative Party Conference, Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher had said: “Children who need to be taught to respect traditional moral values are being taught that they have an inalienable right to be gay.”
Booan Temple, one of the female activists who attempted to disrupt the news programme, said: “Through all of the campaigning, prior to the enactment (of Section 28), we couldn’t get the media to understand what the impact was going to be on our community. So, really, the only thing left was to actually be the news by being on the news.”
Later that evening, a rather shame-faced Tony Hall, editor of BBC News and Current Affairs was interviewed on the corporation’s Nine O’Clock News. He said: “What happened was intolerable and there’ll be a proper inquiry and we’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again on any of our news programmes.
“I do say that I think Sue Lawley and Nicholas Witchell behaved admirably in the circumstances, and I’m very glad that we continued with the broadcast and made sure that all our news went out.”
The fact that the four activists were able enter Television Centre and roam around its corridors unchallenged was a huge source of embarrassment to the BBC. Protestor Booan Temple said: “We met at Television Centre and managed to get through security – the whole thing was timing, really.”
However Sue Lawley, who’d described the studio invasion as “a very alarming experience” felt there was more to it than just being in the right place at the right time. She said: “I suspect it was an inside job. After all, we were a long way down a labyrinth of corridors, so I think someone had given them a little help.”
When asked how she’d managed to maintain her professional composure and continue to broadcast, Sue Lawley said: “It’s quite interesting how quickly fear turns to anger. I suddenly thought: “How dare anyone try to come between the nation and its news?” And I just kept going.”
Nevertheless, Lawley left the Six O’Clock News later that year and gave up newsreading.
Astoundingly, security at the BBC had been seriously breached only nineteen months earlier when, on Sunday, February 15, 1987, newsreader Jan Leeming was violently attacked after disturbing three intruders in an office.
“I’d read the early evening news, had something to eat, and was in the office answering correspondence from viewers,” said Leeming. “It was nearing time to go down for the next bulletin, the last of the evening, so I’d packed my briefcase to take it with me to the studio so I could go straight home afterwards.
“As I opened the connecting door, the light fell on three figures. I felt a tug on my shoulder strap and something was sprayed in my face. I must have opened my mouth to scream because the substance went over my tongue.”
Jan Leeming was taken to the nearby Hammersmith hospital for treatment and was allowed to go home in the early hours of the following morning.
“There was a lot of discussion about security at the BBC,” said Jan. “Actually, in my opinion, it was a joke. At the front of Television Centre it was like Fort Knox, but at the back of the building it was a leaky sieve.
“All my assailants had to do was shin over the iron railings and get in through the scene dock or the outside broadcast bay, where the cars were constantly coming and going. In fact, when they were caught it was discovered they’d regularly got into the building, usually at weekends when fewer people were around, and freely roamed – taking anything portable and saleable from open offices.”
According to Leeming, the BBC accused her of “profiting out of the experience.” She said: “The inference was that I was paid for my story. I wasn’t!”
When Leeming returned to work, a fortnight after the attack, she was so apprehensive that her partner at the time, Eric Steenson, accompanied her.
“Lightening was hardly likely to strike twice in the same place,” she said. “But it did give me a secure feeling knowing he was there.”
In the aftermath of the attack, Leeming received more than 2,000 letters of sympathy and get-well-soon wishes from viewers and numerous bouquets of flowers, too.
“When I signed off (at the end of the bulletin), I added a simple “thank you” to all the kind people who’d wished me well. I got reprimanded for it.”