When I was eleven years old, we stayed in Chicago (Illinois) for three months.
One evening, our parents took us to something wonderful. It was at the Kungsholm Restaurant in the centre of Chicago. After dining at its self-service Danish ‘smörgåsbord’ (a kind of buffet), we were ushered into a small theatre. The lights went down, and the curtains of a small stage opened. Then we watched a whole opera performed by puppets operated by people out of sight below the stage. I do not recall which opera we watched, but I do remember at the end of the performance, the puppeteers raised their heads above the stage. As my eyes had become used to the short puppets during the opera, the heads of the puppeteers looked gigantic.
BETWEEN SEPTEMBER AND DECEMBER 1963, I was living with my parents in a rented flat in southern Chicago because my father had been invited to work at the University of Chicago as a visiting academic for three months. I was eleven years old. On the 23rd of November, President John F Kenedy was assassinated – an event which moved me greatly at the time. Unknown to me then, there was another event that occurred in the UK on that fateful day. It was the broadcast of the first episode of BBC’s science fiction programme, “Dr Who”, which was aimed at entertaining children. Because of the assassination and power outages in Britain, the first episode was repeated a week later immediately before the second episode.
A few days later, I received an airletter from my friend Nicholas Gilks, who lived, as we did, in north London’s Hampstead Garden Suburb. His family had a television, but ours did not. So, I used to visit his home to watch children’s television (BBC) programmes that began at around 5 pm. Nick’s letter contained exciting news about the wonderful new programme, “Dr Who”, which had just begun to be broadcast. He wrote that he could not wait for me to get back to London so that we could watch it together. On my return, I saw my first episode of “Dr Who” and was both amazed by it and afraid of it. It was in black and white. Colour television had not yet arrived in the UK.
Just in case you are unfamiliar with “Dr Who”, here are a few basics. First, Dr Who is a time traveller. The first Dr Who was played by Richard Hartnell (1908-1975). The Doctor travels through space and time in an old-fashioned police box, called the ‘Tardis’. From the outside, the Tardis looks too small to hold more than one person, but on entering it, it seems very spacious. There was plenty of room for Dr Who and his two or three assistants to move around the space-age equipment within the Tardis. As Dr Who travels forwards and backwards in time, he and his companions encounter many sinister opponents, including the Daleks. These robotic objects which spoke English with a sinister accent appeared in many episodes. They were armed with weapons that could exterminate a variety of beings – human and otherwise.
“Dr Who” was screened at about 5pm. In winter and early spring, darkness had fallen by the time the programme ended. I would walk home after seeing the show, but it was so frightening that I felt scared to walk the short distance alone. So, very kindly, Nick’s father used to accompany me most of the way. When I look back on the early “Dr Who” shows today, I cannot believe that they affected me so much. In 1963 and the few years following it, what was being produced by the BBC without the benefit of sophisticated computers and digitally produced special effects was truly remarkable. And to my then young mind, it was oddly realistic even though I knew it was only a television show.
It was with some interest that today (the 26th of August 2024) we went to the Royal Albert Hall to attend the dress rehearsal of a BBC Promenade Concert dedicated to the music that has been played in “Dr Who” during the decades since I first watched it. Our daughter was performing in it as a member of the London Philharmonic Choir, which was accompanied by various soloists, and the BBC National Orchestra of Wales. As the musicians and singers performed excellently, large screens displayed excerpts from current and recent episodes of “Dr Who”. While the external appearance of the Tardis looked the same as it did in 1963, its interior has changed dramatically. It looks far more sophisticated than it did in 1963. And the excerpts demonstrated that full use is made of up-to-date computerised cinematographic technology. Although the scenes we watched did not frighten me, I thought that they would cause the children who watch it (and enjoy it) today to have nightmares. Also, there seemed to be far more romance in the excerpts than there was back in the early 1960s. My guess is, having seen a few elderly “Dr Who” enthusiasts in the audience at the Royal Albert Hall, that many who began watching the programme as children have never stopped watching it despite the passage of time since their childhood.
Sadly, my friendship with Nick diminished significantly when I was about 14. Since then, I have never seen an episode of “Dr Who”. And more tragically, a few years ago, I learned that Nick had died. Watching the dress rehearsal today and seeing a Dalek on the stage brought back memories of sitting with Nick and his brother in front of their television in their home in Hampstead Garden Suburb.
AT THE EXPRESSIONIST exhibition, currently showing in London’s Tate Modern until the 20th of October 2024, I was suddenly reminded of something that I did in the last three months of 1963. During those months, my father was a visiting academic in the economics department of the University of Chicago. I spent that period as a pupil in the University of Chicago’s Laboratory School. It was in that time that President John F Kennedy was assassinated.
Once a week, we had a lesson during which the teacher played us a recording of classical music – some Beethoven, for example. Each of us students were given a large sheet of white paper and some coloured crayons. While the music was playing, we could draw whatever the music inspired us to do. I cannot recall what I drew, but I do remember these lessons.
Kandinsky and his siblings
Today, the 15th of July 2024, we visited the Expressionist exhibition at the Tate Modern. In one small room, there was music by Arnold Schoenberg playing in the background. There was also a photograph (taken about 1888) of the artist Wassily Kandinsky (1866-1944) playing chamber music with his two siblings. Opposite the photograph, I saw a framed painting created by Wassily Kandinsky in 1911. It is called “Impression III (Concert)”. He painted it after hearing a concert of music by Arnold Schoenberg. This painting was his response to the music.
It was seeing this painting by Kandinsky that reminded me of our music-inspired art sessions in Chicago back in 1963.
The town of Eye in Suffolk is twinned with Pouzauges in France. There is a French milestone from the region of France is in the centre of Eye.
Seeing this reminded me of the three months that I attended the University of Chicago Laboratory School in Chicago in late 1963. Every morning before classes began, we used to play a card game called “Mille Bornes” (i.e., ‘1000 milestones’). The game was vaguely educational in that it taught the players a few words of French. We were all obsessed with playing it. When I left the school to return to England, the class clubbed together and bought me a set of “Mille Borne” cards as a farewell gift. although my fellow students at the Lab School were about two years older than me, they made me feel very welcome and were extremely friendly towards me. The same was the case for my class teacher, Ms Alice Flickinger, and the sports teacher, Mr Patlak.
CHICAGO WAS MY HOME for the last few months of 1963. My father was a visiting professor at the University of Chicago during that period. While we were in Chicago, President John F Kennedy was assassinated. However, that was not the only momentous event that I recall from that time,
My best friend in London, whom I had known for about seven years, Nicholas Gilks who is no longer alive, sent me an airletter in which he wrote that he could not wait for me to come back to London, not because he was just missing me, but because he wanted me to watch the new, exciting television programme that had begun whilst I was away. The programme, which still runs today in 2022, was “Dr Who”. It was first broadcast on the 23rd of November, the day after Kennedy was shot.
Well, “Dr Who” was certainly a fine programme. I used to watch it at the Gilks’s home because we did not have television at our family home, and never ever did. To reach my friend’s home, I walked. On the way, I used an unlit pathway that runs between Hampstead Way and Temple Fortune Lane, where Nicholas lived. Frankly, the ominous Daleks that starred in the programmes every week terrified me so much so that I was afraid of walking home along that pathway in the dark. So, Dr Gilks, my friend’s father, used to accompany me to that dark passageway and waited till I reached the far end of it. For this, I was very grateful.
Today, a sunny Sunday morning, the 20th of November 2022 (almost 59 years after Kennedy’s death), we walked along the Hammersmith riverside and reached the Riverside Studios, where we stopped for a coffee in its superb new café. Standing next to the doorway and pointing its weapons at the tables in the café stands a real-life Dalek. Why is it there you might ask. The answer is that between 1964 and 1968, “Dr Who” was filmed in the Riverside Studios, which was then a BBC studio complex. Furthermore, and worryingly, it was from the water beneath the nearby Hammersmith Bridge that the Daleks commenced their attempt to invade the Earth.
Luckily, the sun was shining brightly and there were plenty of people out and about. So, there was little chance that my childhood fears about the robotic Daleks would be awakened.
yamey 