Len Fraser BEM

‘When I first saw this letter with “from the Prime Minister” on the front and “10 Downing Street” on the back, my first reaction was that it would be excellent for props. So I put it in my pocket and never opened it for a couple of hours. Then I read that I had been awarded a BEM and thought someone had been to a lot of trouble to play a practical joke.’

But it was no joke. Len Fraser, production buyer, was awarded the BEM in the New Year Honours List.

Len Fraser has always been connected with show business in some way – his father sold instruments and records in Canada, where Len was born. The family moved to Glasgow when he was seven and his first steps on the stage came some five years later with Sunday school shows. ‘Something went wrong backstage. I was sent out front to pad, so I did a shuffle-dance for some seven minutes.’ Len Fraser grins: ‘It was a hit – I did it for the rest of the week.’

After leaving school, he worked at a petrol station then became a chorus boy at the Pavilion, Glasgow. ‘We were on twice nightly, singing and dancing with rehearsals every morning. I received the princely sum of 25s. a week [£1.25 in decimal – Ed] – well up on what I’d been getting before,’ he says. In the meantime, Len Fraser had joined a concert party which put on shows for charity. They would rehearse and perform in the afternoon and occasionally there would be another performance at a dinner-dance after the show.

Then came stooging in a pantomime and working up a solo act involving patter and dancing. He toured Scotland and England and made trips to Ireland. The war took him into the RAF as a LAC [leading aircraftman] and within three weeks of joining, he had organised entertainment for the camp, including the recruitment of a five-piece line-up which played dance music and jazz – one of Len’s great loves.

In 1942 he was medically discharged from the RAF and started work in a large factory. ‘After six weeks I went to the management and nagged. Finally they told me to go ahead and organise some entertainment. Yes, I could have the canteen, which was enormous, about four times the size of the Wembley one. Massive auditions. I got a five-piece group, comedians, singers, instrumentalists and dancers, and every Friday lunch-time we put on a show.’

There was also a ‘Comforts’ Fund’ with which Len Fraser was concerned. Shows were mounted for a minimum charge or a collection and the money spent on comforts for the troops.

‘After the war, I caught the first train south I could and battled to get back into the business. I was an extra in about eight films. Then came Ralph Reader’s Gang Show for 14 months. I did everything with them. At one point I had 21 costume changes in a night. I used to start off with four layers of clothing on and just strip down.’ He was band manager with Leslie Jiver Hutchinson and His All-Coloured Orchestra, which took him to Belgium and France. ‘In England I was appalled at the amount of colour-bar I met up with,’ says Len Fraser. ‘One night I had managed to get rooms for eight of the 14 members and had to appeal on stage for beds for the other six.’

Next there was a year as entertainment manager in Exmouth. This involved, among other things, running the restaurant and organising baby and beauty shows.

‘After this I was with Linnett and Dunfee, the impressarios, for five years,’ says Len Fraser. ‘It gave me my worst moment ever. Opening night with the first eight rows of the stalls packed with all the “big-wigs” of show business. On the set as the first scene faded to black, I had to whip out and put in seven period props for seven modern ones. The idea was that the light faded up again and lo! a period set – enter the star. But the stage manager switched on the lights instead of fading them up. I dropped like the proverbial duck behind a settee amidst a roar of laughter from the audience. I was clearly visible underneath and couldn’t escape. But worse was to come. The star, who couldn’t see properly without his glasses, walked straight into me and fell into the footlights. The audience was nearly hysterical.’

After Linnett and Dunfee, Len Fraser spent a short time with H. M. Tennent and then five years with Jack Hylton’s ‘Crazy Show’ as stage manager and on props. On August 20, 1955, he finished ‘Kismet’ at the old Stoll Theatre (now demolished) in Kings way. He walked across the road and on August 22 started with Associated-Rediffusion as a setting assistant. ‘I became property master the following January,’ says Len, ‘and moved into production buying in November, 1961.

‘Yes, I still do a lot of charity work, mostly for old age pensioners, prisons and the Star and Garter Homes for the disabled.

‘I always have a ball on these occasions. Sometimes, though rarely luckily, things do go wrong, like the show we did in front of some WVS girls. Two top-line Americans were coming down and bringing a girl dancer with them. All went well, I introduced her dance of the seven veils, and to my horror she started removing them one by one until she ended up in her G-string – to the joy of the ex-servicemen and the horror of the mayor, his wife and the WVS. Still, I have been back.’

He’s been back to quite a few other places, too, time and time again.

Julia Helps

Bryn Siddall, senior production buyer, adds:

‘Possibly I have worked closer to him than anyone else in the company and, during the last 12 years, he has been more than just a colleague. Anyone who was in contact with him while he was property master will remember his almost legendary devotion, not only to his own department, but to the studio in general. Len seemed to have a finger in every pie and his apparently limitless theatrical knowledge was available to anyone who needed it. Animals, musical instruments, trick effects all benefited from his interest.

‘When, four years ago, he joined the buying department, he was able to give full rein to his imagination. There is yet to be a “prop” which he has failed to track down, and he pursues the elusive with the tenacity of a Highland terrier. It seems that at last Len has found his ideal niche and with his almost insatiable curiosity, old world courtesy and dry sense of humour, he has become a favourite of our suppliers. His friends, especially those with children, find his generosity unlimited.

‘Len never mentions his work for charity, but by picking up the odd scrap here and there one can see that he gets a terrific kick out of bringing enjoyment to others. Over the years he has provided entertainment at hospitals and prisons, and all with his boundless energy. Normally one would have to read one’s own obituary to see what people really think. To judge from the amount of mail he has received after the award, Len has proved the exception.

‘He received the news of the award in his usual calm, unflappable manner, and his only comment was that so many people deserved the honour more. Possibly us, his friends and colleagues, can assure him that we disagree.’