London has always been the capital of culture in Britain. But during the fifties and sixties, there was a concerted move by actors to move to the Sussex coast. It was started and largely led by
Laurence Olivier. Olivier decamped to Brighton after marrying his third wife, Joan Plowright, in 1961. The tabloids were waiting for him and he made headline news.
Olivier had hoped, far away from Fleet Street, to escape from unwelcome press attention – and that there would be little professional bitchiness from less talented rivals. But he was doomed to disappointment. He had known Brighton well
from an early age. His first theatrical appearance was at the Brighton Hippodrome in August 1925 in The Unfailing Instinct – he fell flat on his face while walking on to the stage.
Brighton had magnificent seafront architecture and good restaurants. It was also nicely placed for Olivier’s latest job as Director of the Festival Theatre in Chichester.
But the people of Brighton were not impressed. They were angered at Olivier’s purchase of two neighbouring houses sporting mathematical tiles in salubrious Royal Crescent, with commanding unbroken views of the sea and Kemp Town.
Even more galling was his successful application for grants to improve the buildings, which had suffered regular damage during storms. He was entitled to the grants but they reinforced his impression as a wealthy outsider coming down from London and sucking the place dry. He also refused to attend all but a handful of local events.
In the early 1970s, it was my misfortune to interview him about this toxic feud for the respectable Brighton and Hove Herald. The great actor was in a foul mood when I mentioned the grants. He was unpleasant, even rude, and didn’t answer questions.
By contrast, Dame Flora Robson was much loved by all who knew her in Brighton. A big name in the theatrical world, she never declined a charity call or refused to open a fête.
Suddenly there were actors everywhere. Sir John Clements even moved next door to Olivier, while Dame Anna Neagle was a couple of blocks away. Not everyone was enamoured with her husband, film director Herbert Wilcox, who exerted a baleful influence over her although she did not complain.
Why did so many showbiz types settle in Brighton? Partly because the town already had a lot of people from that profession.
Comedian Max Miller was born in Brighton and died there. His contracts for London shows said he had to be back in Brighton on the last train to get home to his formidable wife – even though he cheated on her.
Another reason was homosexuality, illegal until 1967. Brighton was a tolerant town and many gay people appreciated that. Among them was the radio and TV personality Gilbert Harding, a Brighton resident. Playwright Terence Rattigan, also gay, was a great Brighton enthusiast.
Brighton was fortunate to have the Theatre Royal, used to try out new plays before they went to the West End. Not only did Brighton see many of the best modern dramas, but also London actors were enabled to meet South Coast colleagues.
The best way to get into town was on the Brighton Belle, a handsome
electric train which started running in 1933. The departure time of
11am for the main morning service might have been made
for actors. The waiters wore smart uniforms and the extra cost of using this luxury line was well worth paying as it discouraged hoi polloi.
Gradually the Brighton theatre community declined in size and joviality. For every newcomer, such as the versatile Alan Melville, there seemed to be at least one death or departure.
Only Dora Bryan bucked the trend. She bought a seafront hotel and ran it with her husband, cricketer Bill Lawton. The indefatigable Dora remained active well into old age.
This was in sharp contrast to Olivier, who suffered from ill health in later years. It was hard to say whether he or the Brighton Belle was in the worse condition. He was also still angered by the hostile attitude of many people towards him.
The last straw was the decision to take kippers off the breakfast menu on the Belle. It was only a minor matter, but it caught the public imagination. For once, Olivier was on the same side as the protesters. After a vigorous campaign the kippers were restored, but the railway authorities still had the last laugh. They abolished the train.
Olivier abandoned Brighton and moved to the rural seclusion of Steyning, West Sussex – no nosy neighbours there.
Brighton still has plenty of big names, ranging from Fatboy Slim to Steve Coogan. But they do not have the glamour or grandeur of the golden years.
Adam Trimingham wrote for the Argus newspaper in Brighton for over 50 years.
