Perfect gent: my months with Brucie
When Barbara Nash moved in to write Forsyth’s autobiography, she ended up making an enduring friend
Breakfasts with Brucie were the most memorable. The only thing he would eat at that time of day was an apple and a few grapes (he wanted to remain trim for TV and his wife). Then, every morning without fail, he would spin around at high speed like a whirling dervish: fixing his eyes on a spot in front of him and spinning around for 15 minutes, without losing momentum or growing giddy.
He said it focused him, much like a form of meditation or mindfulness. Given he was 72 at the time, it was astonishing to watch. But then, in all the decades I have been a celebrity ghostwriter, I have never known a personality like Sir Bruce Forsyth.
For four months we lived, worked, talked and travelled together to write Brucie: The Autobiography, which was published in 2001. It came at an exceedingly low moment, during a hiatus in his career after Sunday Night at the
London Palladium, The Generation Game and Play Your Cards Right, and just before the Strictly behemoth rolled in and cemented his national treasure status.
In the years that followed we stayed in touch and he proved an enduring and unfailing friend. From the moment we met it was clear he was a perfect gentleman and, above all, a man who understood women – doubtless because he had five daughters, to whom he was incredibly close. When I was offered the job, I had preconceptions that he might be prone to tired jokes and silly stories based on his game show persona, but I quickly discovered he was highly intelligent and extremely interested in current affairs, especially showbusiness and film.
Bruce was also generous to a fault. During our time working together in Puerto Rico – he had a second home there, where we retreated with his wife, Wilnelia – he took me out for delicious prawn lunches (his favourite) every day. He would always refuse to send a chauffeur to collect me, preferring to pick me up in person in his Rolls-Royce. Even if I was delayed by almost an hour on the train to Wentworth, where his countryside home was tucked away inside the boundaries of the golf club, there he would be at the station: patiently waiting with a smile and a smart remark. He didn’t have to, but that was the sort of person he was.
From a professional point of view, he was a frustrated man during those days. There was a gaping lack of high-quality family entertainment shows on television, something which greatly occupied him. He thought TV was failing the British public on a Saturday night and he wanted to change that. But he hated the idea of doing another game show. He thought th they didn’t stretch him, which was true. Perhaps his brilliance as a host – quick on his feet, in every sense – had curtailed his development in other directions. His talent had been clear from his debut at the Windmill theatre in 1953,
‘He was an entertainer in the most expansive sense of the word’
performing impressions of Tommy Cooper. He was an entertainer in the most expansive sense of the word and his abilities were currently being wasted. Bruce could sing, dance and play the piano like Liberace – something he did frequently in private, regaling me and Wilnelia with songs such as You Were Made for Me and You Made Me Love You.
Most days, during this time of flux, he would be on the phone to David Liddiment, the then director of ITV, explaining what he thought they should be commissioning. He would hope for a phone call back requesting a meeting so they could come up with a show that would make full use of his talents. To my mind, he was a man who could have been deeply depressed had the BBC not finally seen the light and commissioned Strictly Come Dancing; just the sort of work he wanted.
We spent hours at a time talking about his life and career; he was always in good humour with an unabashed confidence and panache for storytelling. As ghostwriting jobs go, it was a pleasure to get such an insight into his life; his whirling dervish moments were something I believe only myself and his wife Wilnelia were privy to. The closeness between the two of them was astounding. He was so tender towards her. Rarely were they not holding hands, whether walking along or sitting at the table. When she walked into a room he would always admire and help advise her on what she was wearing. They married in 1983 and were clearly still besotted with one another.
He was delighted that she commanded so much attention in Puerto Rico, her home, where she’d previously been an actress, model and beauty queen. He had no qualms about walking behind her at events. In fact, I think he loved it.
The only blight to their relationship were the horrible rumours Wilnelia married Bruce because she wanted access to his finances and was a gold-digger. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Bruce found it ridiculous and Winnie found the stories hurtful.
In fact, when they married there was an American multi-millionaire, far better off than Bruce, who wanted to marry her. She never told me his name but her love for Bruce never wavered.
Bruce was wonderfully relaxed, welcoming and easy-going. A constant joy to be around. The only time I saw him upset was on one occasion regarding his toupee. We were at Wentworth reading a proof of the book when Winnie opened the French windows and a breeze came whistling through the room and lifted his toupee. He was cross for a second but I could understand it. Image was everything to him.
In 2004 he started co-presenting the BBC’s Strictly Come Dancing. As soon as he got the job he asked if I could make the first live show but sadly I was unable. Later, we would have long conversations about how exhausting he found it. Even then he found it physically tiring but it put him on a high and he loved the public. He would never let them down, even if it meant spending Sundays and Mondays in bed afterwards to recover.
Just over a year ago, before he left Strictly, we were due to meet and have dinner together. He wanted to take me out with Winnie but it didn’t happen. It was my fault – work, again – yet Bruce was characteristically understanding. Of course, there’s nothing I wish more than that I had kept that appointment.
I learned the terrible news of his passing while driving home this week. Someone close to him phoned to tell me what had happened. Needless to say, I pulled over and did what many others probably did; I wept for one of the brightest, kindest and smartest of stars this country has seen in centuries.