Big Red Book
Celebrating television's This Is Your Life
Derek JAMESON (1929-2012)
THIS IS YOUR LIFE - Derek Jameson, journalist and broadcaster, was surprised by Eamonn Andrews - disguised as a newspaper vendor - on Fleet Street in London after his taxi 'broke down' on his way to dinner at the El Vino wine bar.
Derek, who was born to an unmarried mother in London's East End, grew up in a boarding house in Clapton before being evacuated to Bishop's Stortford during the Second World War. He began his career in Fleet Street as a 14-year-old messenger boy at Reuters before becoming a trainee reporter in 1946. After his national service, Derek returned to Reuters as a sub-editor, then became editor of London American magazine before joining the Daily Express in 1961.
His other roles in Fleet Street included assistant editor of the Daily Mirror from 1965, then the paper's northern editor from 1972, editor of the Daily Express from 1977, editor-in-chief of the newly launched Daily Star in 1979, and editor of News of the World in 1981. After leaving Fleet Street in 1984, he moved into broadcasting, with a regular spot on ITV's TV-AM, presenting the BBC programme Do They Mean Us? and joining BBC Radio 2 the following year.
"Good lord! I don't believe it! Well, Eamonn - you got me banged to rights!"
programme details...
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Screenshots of Derek Jameson This Is Your Life
On 11 February 1986, Derek Jameson, the former Fleet Street editor, was about to embark on presenting Radio Two's morning show. His regular spot on TV-AM, with Anne Diamond and Nick Owen, had established a firm following, though Gloria Hunniford offered the view that it was only because the gravel-voiced Cockney had been having elocution lessons from Henry Cooper.
Born in London's East End, son of an unmarried mother who scraped a living working in a laundry, Derek had started work as a fourteen-year-old messenger boy at Reuter's. He had gone on to hold the editorship of no fewer than four national newspapers, so where better to surprise him than in Fleet Street.
As he walked down the famous street in the gloom of that winter evening he spotted a newspaper billboard for the Evening Standard. 'Big Surprise For Fleet Street's Derek Jameson!' it declaimed. The surprise was that Eamonn was the newsvendor.
Also surprised was a genuine passer-by who offered a pound coin and found a newspaper thrust at her with the words, 'Forget the money!' Derek had that very moment strolled into view.
At our television theatre, just around the corner in Kingsway, waited some of Fleet Street's finest: Sir Larry Lamb, Philippa Kennedy, Charles Wintour, Marjorie Proops and the former Page Three Girl Samantha Fox.
From his new career in radio were Mike Read, Ray Moore, Ken Bruce, David Hamilton, Jimmy Young and Gloria Hunniford.
From New York there was a rare sighting, and greeting, from the boss of the multi-million Penthouse empire Bob Guccione, Derek's cartoonist in 1960 when Derek edited the London American, and whose offer of a partnership he had turned down. A bare cheek.
We had one more Life to film in London before setting off for Los Angeles and it was to be a lad himself, Derek Jameson. We decided on a tricky but effective way to surprise him by getting one of his friends to meet him for a late lunch on the day and then take a taxi back to the office through Fleet Street. The taxi was in our pay and was briefed to break down at a certain point of the street. In the meantime Eamonn was dressed as a news vendor on the corner, selling the late edition of the Evening Standard. By his side was the headline board which shouted in large black print: 'BIG SURPRISE FOR DEREK JAMESON'. Eamonn was also holding a phoney edition of the Evening Standard which said, 'Derek Jameson, This Is Your Life'. Eamonn, of course, was hidden in a high collared raincoat topped with heavy cap and glasses.
All was going well. Eamonn was in place and I was holding the book out of sight behind him. Yes! There was the taxi and it had stopped; an irate Jameson got out and was heading our way just as a very sweet lady came over and asked Eamonn for an Evening Standard, not an unreasonable request, really. Eamonn didn't have a real paper but I did. I offered it to her and she accepted it, giving me a pound. I didn't have any change so I said it would be all right if she just took the paper with my complements. Derek was almost at our corner.
'No,' she said, and insisted on paying, but then she asked for change.
'Not to worry, madam, please have this copy with our compliments,' I said.
'No, I couldn't take it without paying for it,' she said firmly.
There were only seconds to go now and I had to do the drastic thing. I pushed a paper into her hands and said, 'There you are, madam, now shove off!'
She marched away furious but left Eamonn free to throw the surprise at Derek.
If that lady should by any chance read this, please accept my sincere apologies for being so rude.
Michael Aspel is another actor, a product of the stage with nicely cultivated vowel sounds just like they teach in drama lessons. He is nothing like a former pipelayer from Battersea, though that is his background. Whenever we meet he is at pains to let me know that his working-class credentials are as good as mine. 'Only yours got lost somewhere along the way!' I tell him with a grin.
I smiled to myself when it was revealed that he was approached by John Howard-Davies, the light-entertainment boss of Thames TV in the car park at a Twickenham rugby match to take over the late Eamonn Andrews' job on This Is Your Life.
It is a job I desperately wanted. I was a boy from the slums, like Eamonn, and am most definitely a man of the people. I knew there were supporters of mine in the Life team, that I was on the shortlist and had the advantage of being a Thames star. My series Headliners had filled the spot left vacant by Eamonn's death.
No chance. I told everybody. Michael Aspel will get it. I speak with the wrong accent and you are not likely to bump into me in the car park at Twickenham. Apparently they drink champers and eat canapés there while waiting for the match to start. Michael knew what he was doing when he learned to speak proper. What makes him special is that he appears so relaxed, when, by his own admission, he worries about everything to the point of paranoia.
The fact is that those who run television are not comfortable with people like me who sound as if they should be driving a lorry. The programme makers prefer neutral or 'posh' voices, totally ignoring the fact that most of the audience speak the language of the streets.
Series 26 subjects
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