michael_gothard_archive | Entries tagged with jazz

A fan of Michael's, Belsizepark, had sent a card to M.T. at Shirlock Road to request a meet-up. As there was no response, she decided to leave a message at the house. It was 1st or 2nd July 1999, the weekend after what would have been Michael's 60th birthday.

“The door was open, and I saw a woman … a 'Phoebe Cates' type. When I entered the house I asked her if she was M.T., and then introduced myself.
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Angharad 24 was lucky enough to hear from Xavier, a friend of Michael’s, who got to know him pretty well during the late eighties.

Xavier and the others in his group – all now professional musicians – were about 20 years younger than Michael. Michael was very happy to find a younger generation so interested in jazz and blues, and they became friends. He seemed to enjoy the company of younger people, and they enjoyed his.

Michael was a really very nice bloke, who was generous and open most of the time. He was not at all egotistical; rather Xavier thought him self-effacing, and burdened by self-doubt, which probably had a detrimental effect on his career.

When they first met, Xavier had never heard of him, and was only told that he had been in films such as “For Your Eyes Only” and “The Devils” by the others. Michael never spoke much about his films, and didn’t name-drop, though he had acted with some of the best-known actors of the century. He did express frustration at being offered ‘hit-man’ roles, and hoped he would be given a chance to get out of them, but said, ‘nobody wanted me.’

Xavier felt sure that playing a part well meant more to Michael than money or fame.

He loved music and just wanted to learn more. He played saxophone and drums well, but even in music, Mike would have moments where he would say “Oh, I’m no good at this.” Xavier thought he was self-taught, because he would ask for help with reading difficult music.

The whole group loved “Some Like it Hot”, and Michael thought that Marilyn Monroe was a great actress.

He had around three different girlfriends in the years 1989 – 92. He said he wouldn’t have minded marriage but did not want children. Unfortunately, most of the girls he’d been with had wanted them. He liked children, but had no ‘paternal feelings.’

Once, a young female punk walked into the bar where they were meeting, and drank out of a bottle. Michael asked why women thought they had to dress up and behave like men to get liberated, and said these young women didn’t know they were born! His grandmother and mother had lived very hard lives, but they came through it and bettered themselves while retaining their femininity. “My mother always made sure that she dressed nicely and kept her appearance and femininity throughout” (or words to that effect). Nevertheless, Xavier thought Michael was definitely in favour of equality.

Michael had a fierce hatred of Thatcher. He was a champion of the working classes, and Xavier thinks he would have voted Labour.

Xavier and the others knew of Michael’s depression. He told them he could go for weeks on end just not wanting to join the rest of the world, and that at one time he’d had to drop out of a project in the early stages, because he just couldn’t force himself to go to the studio. He also said that making and listening to music soothed him.

Xavier was out of the country and hadn’t seen Michael for about a year when he heard of his death. The whole group were very upset.

Former girlfriend N.B. mentioned that during the time she was with him, 1984 - 87, Michael had jammed with fellow musicians, including Clive Bell.

In answer to my questions about these times, Clive had this to say:

"For about a year or so, Mike, myself, and a few others, used to meet for jam sessions, where we attempted to play jazz; it was very amateurish. We never played outside the
house.

Mike used to play the sax, and sometimes the flute, while I played the piano.

Later, Mike found other more experienced or professional musicians, and for a while even studied jazz with the bass player Peter Ind. But after our first brief moments we never played music together again, although we were friends, and remained so until his death."

N.B., a former girlfriend of Michael’s, was kind enough to talk to me, and answer some questions. Here is what she told me:

"I was amazed at hearing about your project. I am sure Michael would have been even more surprised to find people still honouring his work as an actor some twenty years later. He wouldn't feel he was worth the trouble."

Getting to know Michael

"I got to know Michael on a crisp spring Sunday morning in 1984 in the “Brasserie Dome”¹ in Hampstead. He sat there having his cappuccino and reading the Sunday paper. I was having breakfast with a friend of mine. I was living in London as an au-pair, and so was my friend; we cherished our fee day away from the family where we lived and worked.

My friend knew Michael, because he had taken her out for dinner some weeks previously and she said hello to him across the tables. She pointed out who he was and I immediately recognised him thanks to his glasses. They were the ones he wore in the Bond film “For Your Eyes Only.”
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Michael in Paris, circa 1960. My friend and landlord of my first solo flat. I miss him dearly and think of him and his "Shakespearean" way every single day. Oh, how fondly I cherish the memories of our roof top cups of Earl Grey, and puffs of hash.
A magnificent man.

I first got in touch with Sean McCormick after seeing this photo, and the dedication below it, on a general memorial website. Sean very kindly shared some memories with me.

Michael Gothard was a family friend, whom Sean first met in London in June 1981, just after ‘For Your Eyes Only’ (in which Michael appeared as assassin Emile Locque) came out. They continued to meet and socialise until Sean moved back to New Mexico, late 1982, and Sean also rented a room from Michael in 1984/5, when he returned to London to work.

Sean's account: 1981-2

… my dad and I earned our living on the streets with our Punch & Judy show, and it had taken us to London where my dad landed a job working for Jim Henson on ‘The Dark Crystal.’¹ My mom was hired as a buyer and I started my apprenticeship.

Dan² once again got the bug to get out of the States, and he wanted to learn stain glass, so he decided to make his way to London.

Before his arrival he gave us the name and phone number of an old friend of his from the Paris days; he was an actor, and maybe we could get together and network a little.
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Memories kindly contributed by Michael Gothard's adopted sister, Wendy.

Music was a huge and vital part of Michael’s life – both listening and playing, though as far as we know, he never performed live in public. He is seen playing a flute in “La Vallée”, but mainly he jammed with friends.

Listening

Michael liked classical music and some rock, but his first love was jazz. He loved big band music, and we often went to live performances at the Royal Albert Hall, Michael, my father and me. Particular favourites were Glen Miller, (American Patrol, In the Mood, Little Brown Jug), Benny Goodman (the eight-minute version of "Sing Sing Sing" was one of his favourites, as well as "Hey Pachuko"), and The Syd Lawrence Orchestra.

My father and Michael also loved nightclub jazz and improvised jazz, and one of their favourite haunts was Ronnie Scott’s. They often went up to London.

Count Basie, Duke Ellington, Dizzy Gillespie would all be playing at our home, often seriously loud.

They also loved Astrid Gilberto’s stuff. Michael loved the saxophone bit in the middle of "Girl from Ipanema." I can just see Michael and my father playing along to this: piano, bongos.

Michael also liked “Take Five” by Dave Brubeck, and jazz such as Miles Davis and John Coltrane was often playing wherever Michael was.

A friend of Michael’s told him about this great jazz backing band, “The Blockheads”, and he took me to see Ian Dury & The Blockheads at the Hammersmith Odeon, 1978 or 1979. Michael agreed that they were amazing musicians.

Both Michael and my father liked Dudley Moore's music. He was a great pianist.

Some other vocalists and tracks he liked were Aretha Franklin (“I Say a Little Prayer”), Nina Simone, ("My Baby Just Cares For Me", and “Feelin’ Good”) Jose Feliciano (“Light My Fire”) and Marilyn Monroe (“Some Like it Hot”), and Joan Armitrading.

He loved most of Pink Floyd. "Dark Side of the Moon" – he would sometimes sit outside listening to it and enjoying a drink and a smoke.

I love Genesis. Michael viewed them with contempt, but he took me to see them at the Lyceum in the 1970s, and Wembley in 1985; I suspect he tossed a coin with my father, and lost.

He was determined to hate it, but Genesis developed a quite jazzy sound, especially in live instrumentals, and Michael really liked the live versions of “Los Endos”, the drum duets, “Mama" and "Abacab": he called it "modern improvised jazz".

Michael also took me to a 1977 Yes concert; I suspect that was another occasion when he lost a coin toss with my father. He put “Yawn” in the programme.

Both he and my father went to see The Who with me.

He didn’t generally like pop music, but he liked Elton John's very early albums: “Madman Across The Water" and "Tumbleweed Connection."

He loved Kate Bush’s work: he felt “Wuthering Heights” was so different, and ahead of its time.

He liked Supertramp’s "Even in the Quietest Moments" and “Give a Little Bit”, and “borrowed” my “Breakfast in America” LP and took it to his room in the family home. Woe betide me if I "borrowed" any of his music without asking, but he used to help himself to mine – despite moaning about what I listened to most of the time!

He loved Classical music as well. Some I remember listening to with him are Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D minor, Saint Saens’ Symphony No 3 in C Minor, Hayden’s Zadok the Priest, Vivaldi’s Coronation Anthem, and Widor’s Toccata (allegro).

My father was ahead of his time with technology, and introduced Michael to Bang and Olufsen's amazing sound systems; together they chose a fabulous one, which had speakers in virtually every downstairs room.

Although music was very important to him, Michael could find it distracting - especially MY music - if he was trying to concentrate. There were times when he would come flying upstairs and tell me to "turn it down, or put your headphones on!" I couldn't really complain, as Michael bought me a beautiful set of Bang & Olufsen headphones.

Playing

Michael would sometimes play duets with me on the piano, to encourage me to practice. He was a good percussionist. My father had a great set of bongos, which Michael always grabbed when parties were in full swing! I think he may have played the clarinet too, and he played the saxophone later on. I remember him playing “Take Five” on the saxophone. He would get frustrated, and say he was no good, when he clearly was. I thought he was very good at all the instruments he played.

My paternal grandparents had a big old semi-detached house with huge rooms, and loads of space. Michael called them Auntie E. and Uncle G. They thought the world of Michael, and loved seeing him. They were very into music and had an old fashioned pianola which I loved. My grandmother could only play one song, and would proudly sing along to it.

Michael was very fond of Auntie E., and I remember him joining in with music sessions at their home.

My father had a group "The Rockbottomers", which – despite the name – were reportedly not bad. My father played the washboard and brushes, and later the drums; grandpa played the double bass, and someone called "Uncle Dook" the guitar: skiffle, probably. Michael totally fitted in, playing the piano. He wasn't bad with the washboard and brushes either! He sang with my father too; I don't think he could have made a career out if it, but he could hold a tune!

Auntie E. loved "Lullaby of Broadway.” We had one party where, after a few drinks, my father, Michael and other friends sang and danced along to it, which she loved. They were all really good fun, and the parties I remember were wonderful: always full of music and laughter.

A lady who knew Michael in the early 1960s found out about the tree planted at Woodchester in his memory, and got in touch through Woodchester's Forester. She has given me these memories of their time together, to share.

To Michael Alan Gothard, from Jazz, 1960 – 61

I first met our Michael when I was 16, coming up to 17. It was snowing, and we met in Ken Colyer’s Jazz Club in London. I didn’t wear shoes in those days, and he was also bohemian and quite serious, intelligent and kind, with longish, very blond hair; a person I would think of always as a gentle gentleman.

I was working as a children’s nanny to three youngsters, and lived with the family on the edge of Hampstead Heath. I remember Michael occasionally coming on walks with me and the children to the lake on the Heath.

Other times, on evenings off, I’d go to his café in Kentish Town, NW5. They were a mixed bunch there, mainly teenagers, who, in retrospect, were perhaps a bit deprived. Michael made soup and sandwiches, tea and coffee for them, if my memory serves me right.

Sometimes he seemed very tense.

Wherever we went, he always took me home to where I worked, and we’d sit outside the door and talk for ages.

He came to my mother’s sister, Auntie Kathie, for Christmas. The two sisters, Auntie, in Bournemouth, and Mum, in Surrey, used to do alternate Christmases. Michael was an only child, and to be confronted by five teenagers, a five year-old (who still remembers that Christmas, and Michael) and five adults, must have been daunting for him!

On the train going back to London on either Boxing Day or the day after, he asked me to marry him – I said yes! He said we would have five children, and the first would be a boy, and we’d call him Simon. Back in London, he bought me a beautiful Indian silver bracelet.

bracelet 1

Our relationship foundered, and I went to work as a nanny in Paris, then went hitch-hiking over Europe. Since then, I’ve discovered that before we met, Michael lived in Paris and back-packed through Europe.

Our Michael was a lovely, kind and intelligent gentle man, and I shall never forget him, and the love we shared.

Michael left Haverstock Comprehensive School in Summer 1957.

He seems not to have done National Service, though this wasn't phased out until around 1960.

I asked Sean McCormick, whose uncle, Dan Bush, knew Michael in the 1960s: "Do you happen to know why Michael didn't do National Service? Was he considered unfit, or did he go to the Continent to avoid it?"

Sean replied: “Europe, I believe.”

Some of what Sean has told me was learned from Michael himself, and some of it came via Dan Bush.

Michael's childhood friend Baz remembers Michael having very poor eyesight, and says: "The call-up in those days required draftees to have – if not 20-20 vision – good eyesight, that may have to be aided by glasses under certain circumstances, reading and sighting firearms. It is my firm belief Michael did not go to Paris to dodge the draft. I suggest he failed the medical through poor eyesight."

Perhaps draft-dodging just sounded cooler than failing a medical!

From 'X'-Films Interview: 1973 “I was living in Paris for about a year, just bumming around if you like, just drifting about …”

From TV Times: 8 February 1973:

"I left school when I was 17 or 18 with little idea of what I wanted to do. I think this would be true of most people if left to their own devices. Most of us are channeled into various functions, for better or for worse.

This is how things are constructed, but you always get the odd one who slips through, who doesn't fit too well. I mean, people either find something they like doing or they end up gangsters or just plain bums. It comes down to that, doesn't it?"

This seems a strange way for Michael to speak of himself, considering his glittering school career as described by school-friend H. He was a Prefect, then Head Boy, good at sports and academically gifted. Something seems to have happened between 1957 and 1960, to change him from the confident, out-going young man H. knew, to the "man of few words" Harold Chapman remembers from the Paris days.

He tramped around Europe. "I drifted from country to country, washing a lot of dishes, but I ended up spending a lot of time in Paris where everybody goes to find their way.

When I was there, the beat thing was quite new. I lived in an hotel in the Latin Quarter¹ which was full of the beat celebrities of the day: Ginsberg, Burroughs. They were held in considerable awe, but I don't think I ever said more than 'bonjour' to them."

From: Petticoat interview 6 October 1973

Before [he became an actor] he did a variety of odd jobs, working in restaurants, as a house cleaner, building site labourer – even as a model in Paris. He spent a year in Paris, living in the student section, near Boulevard St. Michel.

“Paris has a wonderful communal feeling to it,” he says, “it’s a great place for meeting people, or for just sitting around talking.”

He didn’t feel he was much of a success as a model. “I was as stiff as a board and I couldn’t overcome my sense of the ridiculous. I was a clothes hanger, an object, not a person.”

It is not clear, from the way this article is written, whether the various jobs he tried were on the Continent or in London, either before after he got back home.

Susie Morgan was contacted someone who met Michael:

"One woman, I think from one of the Slavic countries, had known him from before he got into acting, when he was travelling around France ... What I remember was she said he was a very deep thinker, very thoughtful but even then a little troubled."

From Michael's friend from the 1980s, Sean McCormick:

"In 1959 (just out of high school) my dad and his best friend (since they were 12 years old) Dan, hitch-hiked across Europe together, starting in Norway, working on a family farm and eventually ending up in Spain.

There, they decided to part ways ... Dan landed finally in Paris, circa 1960/61 where he shared a flat with another Yank, and a very intense Englishman named Michael Gothard.

Together they scrounged for food, bummed around, and got hooked on jazz and heroin.

After a year or so, Dan went back to the States.

Michael stayed, and I believe the third guy was killed in a drug deal in New York City.

Well, Michael and Dan remained friends and continued to correspond."

Michael Gothard in Paris, circa 1960

Photo courtesy Sean McCormick.

Research by Belsizepark:

"... When I researched published material of the Beat Generation I came across the photographer Harold Chapman who lived at [The Beat Hotel] from 1957 – 1963 when it closed ... He could remember [Michael Gothard] and shared the information that Michael had a café in London."

Harold Chapman's memories of the times he met Michael in Paris and London can be found here here.

On seeing these photos from The Beat Hotel, taken by Harold Chapman, Sean's Uncle Dan (Dan Bush) replied, "Yep, I knew most of these cats..."

An extract from a press book for "Up the Junction" paints a somewhat different picture of Michael's time in Paris:

"After leaving school, Michael went to Paris and studied French culture at the Sorbonne. ... on holiday from University studies in Paris, [he] was persuaded by a friend to take part in a home movie he was producing with a cheap ciné camera. Michael was so good that he took over the lead in the mini-film and so impressed his friend that the latter asked him why he didn’t take acting up professionally. Michael decided to throw up his studies and do just that. He enrolled at the Actors’ Workshop in London – and has never looked back…"

It has been suggested that Michael may have listened in to the courses at the Sorbonne as an "auditeur libre" (non-registered student). He wouldn't have got the degree - just listened to the teaching.

However, it is also possible that the people who wrote the press book felt that "studying at the Sorbonne" was a more acceptable way of describing Michael's activities in Paris than washing dishes, working on building sites, or listening to jazz.

Michael was in London on 21 October 1961, when he was present at his mother's re-marriage. At that time, according to childhood friend Baz, he was working for the Kensington Post as a trainee reporter. Harold Chapman thinks Michael continued to travel between London and Paris, though it is not known for how long; possibly until he began working on 'Herostratus' in 1964, or even longer.

It is not known where he was living when in London. Dan Bush said that when Michael was studying theatre but had not yet landed a film, he was "living in an obscure garret/loft somewhere in the city.”

¹ The legendary "Beat Hotel"

I was lucky enough to be contacted by a friend of Michael’s from his teenage years, H. He very kindly provided the valuable new information and photos below.

‘I came across your website yesterday after seeing a rerun of 'For Your Eyes Only' and was very touched that you planted a tree in his memory.

Michael and I went to the same school, Haverstock Comprehensive in Chalk Farm in North West London, and were in the same class probably from 1953/4 till 1957.

I usually called him Mike or Mick. Michael was a close friend of mine, and was a frequent visitor to our home. My parents always treated him as a member of our family.’

Home

‘He lived with his mother in Gloucester Avenue just off Primrose Hill and I went to his place on a number of occasions.

Both Michael and his mother were very well spoken and she appeared to be well educated.

I always understood that Michael's father died at Dunkirk. Michael was born in June 1939, the Second World War started in September 1939 and the Battle of and Evacuation of Dunkirk took place in May/June 1940.’

When told that Michael’s mother was actually divorced, H. said:

‘At that time, divorce tended to be frowned upon. It is possible this may have been a white lie told by his mother to explain that his father was not present.

As far as I am aware, I never met Jack Walker [Michael's 'Uncle Jack', who was on the electoral roll for the address, 1952 - 8] and I cannot remember either Michael or his mother ever mentioning him to me.’¹

Character

‘Michael always chose his words carefully but he did not appear to be at all shy and was very self assured.

He was always outgoing, and as far as I was concerned I never saw him in a depressed state of mind.’

School

‘I think Haverstock was one of the first Comprehensive Schools in the country, so we were quite lucky in the education we received. All the teachers appeared to be doing their best to give us a good education. I remember our Geography teacher who became our 6th form teacher had to upgrade his qualifications to continue to teach us. He eventually became the Headmaster of another school.

The teachers were very broad minded from a political point of view – so if and when we talked politics it covered the whole gamut.

From memory the uniforms were dark blue with grey trousers and the tie was yellow and red stripes.

The school had a house system. I think our house name was Camden.

Michael was a good student and always did well in exams. His good looks always attracted the girls. As far as I was aware, he did not have any particular girlfriends but he was always very popular with the girls, very self assured and confident. He may have had girl friends, but never mentioned them.

He got on well with all his teachers, his peers and other pupils.

During the time I knew him, he did not have any problems with authority.

Michael did not smoke whilst at school. I can't remember ever seeing him smoking cigarettes or anything else. He was too keen on sports and his fitness and health. There were other students who smoked cigarettes round the back of the school toilets.

Michael was an excellent athlete: good in most sports but he excelled in the 100, 200 and 400 yards races.

Sports Day - Parliament Hill Fields

Michael and senior girl at sports day on Parliament Hill Fields at the bottom of Hampstead Heath probably 1954/55.

In our last two years at school in Sixth Form, we both studied Advanced History and Geography. Because the 6th form subject classes were so small each student was virtually given personal tuition.

We were both prefects; I believe the prefects were selected by a committee of teachers together with the Headmaster.

Michael and the prefects appointed in 1955/56.

Michael was the Head Boy in his final year at school.

During our 6th and 7th years, Michael and I, together with others, went on three geographical/geological trips together – to Dale Fort in Pembrokeshire, to the Yorkshire Dales to study the limestone areas and to Scotland on a trip from Inverness to the Isle of Skye.

Michael never mentioned his Welsh grandparents, which is strange because, as I mentioned above, we traveled by train to Dale Fort in Pembrokeshire and St David’s together. Maybe he was able to compartmentalise these things.

Michael with other students at Dale Fort.

Near Aviemore Youth Hostel

Michael near Dale Fort.

Dale Fort 2

Michael and other students from the group who went to Dale Fort.

Near Aviemore Youth Hostel 2

Near the Aviemore Youth Hostel in Scotland, 1956: Michael and another student who was also in our class, and would have been 17 or 18 at the time.

I'm not certain whether Michael did his A-levels or not – probably we should assume he did take his A levels but left shortly thereafter. I do know that he did not stay to the end of the school year.

I'm not certain why he did not go on to do further education.’

Music

‘I had always been interested in music and, in particular, Jazz and took up the drums in my early teens. Michael also started to play the clarinet. Soon we had a group rehearsing at our place just off Primrose Hill.

We often listened to jazz records, traditional, mainstream and modern. On my eighteenth birthday I remember Michael giving me an LP 'Tribute to Benny Goodman' with Jess Stacy and the Famous Sidemen – I still have the LP.

I remember one time, Michael, I and another friend went to see Ken Colyer (a leading traditional jazz trumpeter in the 1950s and 60s) and his band somewhere I believe in Camden Town. I believe the gig was either at a Trade Union Club or a Communist Club.’

Dancing

‘Both my parents and Michael's mother were very keen on us learning ballroom dancing and I remember Michael, myself and another friend enrolling to learn to dance at a studio in Baker Street. We managed to learn how to get round a dance floor without any major problems, but I only ever saw him dancing either at school dances or at parties.

As far as I can remember, the only jazz club we went to together was the Ken Colyer gig and we certainly didn't dance there.’

Leaving home/school

‘I was not aware that Michael had left his home after leaving school. One reason for him travelling to Europe may have been that Conscription to the Army was still in place for all males aged 18 years and over and was so until 1960.’²

I asked: ‘Was Michael already forming leftist political opinions at this age?’

H. replied: ‘At the time we really did not get into politics. I suppose one should remember that we were in the middle of the Cold War and the Suez Crisis had just taken place in 1956 and so the population, and young people in particular, were worried about what was happening around them so travelling might not have been so bad an idea.

Prior to 1956 no American Jazz musicians were allowed to play in the U.K. In addition there were quite a few American jazz musicians living in France and other parts of Europe in order to get away from the racial intolerance in the USA and these reasons together with the urge to travel and see a bit of the world may have contributed to his going overseas.

The school actively encouraged students in linguistic studies, and this also may have influenced him in his decision to travel to France. A couple of years prior, [to leaving school] we went on a school trip to Europe.

After leaving school, I became an articled clerk to a firm of Chartered Accountants in the City and continued studying for the next five years. I lost touch with Michael and other members of our group during that time.

In some ways it didn't surprise me that Michael became an actor - when I found out I was really quite proud that I had once known and been a close friend of his.

I heard of Michael's untimely death a number of years ago which came as a huge shock.

Michael with two other students (also in our class) punting on the River Cam. I can't remember what we were doing in Cambridge - obviously a class excursion.’

¹ Baz, another schoolfriend of Michael's, who knew him from a few years earlier than H, remembers knowing that Michael's parents were separated, and that Jack Walker was a part of Michael's life.

² Baz believes Michael failed the medical on the grounds of his poor eyesight.

The creators of this Archive are very grateful to H. for sharing these memories and photographs.