Tag: ITN

Meet Major Gagarin

As a reciprocal gesture the Russians agreed to relay the Trooping the Colour, and Yuri Fokin came to London to speak the Russian commentary, following on headphones what Richard Dimbleby was saying. Dimbleby always briefed the European commentators carefully before any major event, and greatly eased their tasks for them. A month later Major Gagarin unexpectedly came to Britain to appear at the Soviet Exhibition at Earl’s Court.

On Tuesday 11 July 1961, Dimbleby was at London Airport to describe his arrival. Gagarin was met by the Soviet Ambassador, the Deputy Chief of the Air Staff, and a civil servant, the secretary to the Minister of Science, Lord Hailsham. Dimbleby was also the commentator later that day at a televised press conference from the Earl’s Court Exhibition, a curious affair at which much of the questioning was puerile, and some speakers from Eastern Europe insisted on reading out poems to the cosmonaut. Belitzky was again doing the translating, and Dimbleby complained on the air that he thought the arrangements at London Airport for greeting the first man to travel in space had been inadequate. A member of the Government and not a civil servant should have been there.

Dimbleby stands over Yuri Fokin who is wearing headphones and speaking into a lip mic
Yuri Fokin describing the Trooping the Colour

The Queen in uniform on horseback

There was in fact a lively debate in Britain on the degree of welcome which should be extended to Gagarin, for this was a period of some political tension in Anglo-Soviet affairs. It was soon resolved by the Queen inviting Gagarin to one of her informal luncheon parties on the Friday of that week.

Meanwhile some newspapers charged that the BBC was departing from its charter by taking sides in a current controversy, and I told our press office to point out that Richard was expressing his own view, which he was perfectly entitled to do. The BBC as such was not, as alleged, taking an editorial line. The ‘Daily Herald’ and some others made out that the BBC was annoyed with Dimbleby and was publicly repudiating him. This in turn made the new Director-General, Hugh Carleton Greene, angry, and he took the trouble to telephone Dimbleby to assure him personally that the papers had got it all wrong. Dimbleby, who had at that time not met the new Director-General, much appreciated the telephone call.

Meanwhile we were trying to arrange a proper television interview at which Gagarin could be questioned. Paul Fox was handling the negotiations with Rogov of the Soviet Embassy. After several conversations on Thursday 13 July, the Russians agreed, provided that Yuri Fokin could be part of the panel, and that the general areas of questioning, though not specific questions, should be submitted in writing as soon as possible. This was accepted and we prepared announcements to say that a special programme ‘Meet Major Gagarin’ would be recorded at the Soviet Exhibition the next day and transmitted later that evening in place of a Burns and Allen programme. Richard Dimbleby would be the chairman, Tom Margerison, Science Editor of the ‘Sunday Times’ would be on the panel with Yuri Fokin, and Boris Belitzky would be the interpreter.

Meanwhile the British Government had changed its official attitude towards Gagarin. On that Thursday I went to a hastily arranged reception for him at the Hyde Park Hotel. The Prime Minister, Mr Macmillan, the Foreign Secretary, Lord Home, and the Minister of Science, Lord Hailsham, were all there.

Later that evening Lord Hailsham came to Lime Grove to appear on Gallery. While we were talking with him and Lady Hailsham after the programme Paul Fox phoned. He said that, despite the earlier agreement, Rogov had just been instructed to insist that unless every single question to be put to Gagarin was submitted in writing by 9.30 the next morning the programme was off. I told Fox that in that case the programme would have to be off. Distinguished broadcasters like Margerison and Dimbleby could never agree to submit all their questions in advance. Nor could the BBC. But I also told him to warn the Soviet Embassy that we would have to announce why the broadcast was cancelled. I also asked Fox to go round to the Soviet Embassy the next morning to try to get them to return to the earlier agreement.

Fox telephoned the next morning to say all was well. The Embassy had withdrawn its demand for written questions in advance. Gagarin with Belitzky as interpreter went to lunch at Buckingham Palace, and came straight on to the room in the Earl’s Court Exhibition where we had set up our cameras.

Gagarin entered accompanied by the Soviet Ambassador, who was in a bad temper, and General Kaminin, the Russian in charge of space experiments. There was also a large collection of very tough-looking security men. Dimbleby greeted them all courteously.

The discussion went very well. Gagarin had great charm and answered easily. At the end, just as Dimbleby had been given a ‘Three minutes more’ sign by the floor manager, Fokin stepped in with a very long and heavily polemical statement only just in the form of a question. Gagarin gave an equally long political reply. Dimbleby wasn’t going to end on that note, so he quickly asked Gagarin what presents he was proposing to take back to Moscow. There was a hurried consultation with Belitzky, who replied, ‘Major Gagarin is going to take back toys for his children, souvenirs of London, and something for his wife which he will not disclose, in order that it may remain a secret.’ It was in fact a fur coat. After the interview the Ambassador, General Kaminin and the strong arm men had a long huddle with Gagarin before he was filmed for an ITN interview. Rogov said to Fox, ‘Ah well, we all have to compromise!’ Fox replied sharply, ‘What do you mean! We didn’t.’

With the Pope in New York

To Richard’s deep disappointment his doctors told him he was too ill to fly to Japan in August with other members of the team for Panorama’s 430th edition. Most of the programme came from Nagasaki, just twenty years after the atomic bomb explosion which had ended World War II. Richard had to stay in the studio. He announced the date of Panorama’s return after the summer break under its new editor Jeremy Isaacs and added, as some thought modestly, ‘I hope to be in attendance’. He was expressing a real and far from certain hope. Meanwhile it had been announced that Pope Paul VI would visit the United Nations on Monday 4 October 1965. The first visit of a Pope to American shores was a great television occasion, both for Eurovision and for Panorama that Monday evening. Richard Dimbleby undertook what turned out to be his last journey abroad, and his last great broadcasting event. Again Richard Francis was the Panorama producer with him:

Richard arrived in the BBC New York office late on Friday 1 October. Although it was after 11 p.m. on his time-scale he immediately set about the task of gathering information. Which were the best books on this and that, who was the best man to talk to about the Catholic hierarchy in the States, how accurately was the Pope’s schedule known?

Next day, the Saturday, he attended the briefings held by the UN television unit and CBS. They, with Italian Television, were co-ordinating the programme for all the European networks. Eurovision of course took a common picture sent over the Early Bird satellite. On this occasion the rival American networks also took a common picture. They forsook competition in favour of pooling their resources to get the best coverage of the event. Significantly, at these briefings, the American producers could never quite place Richard among the other commentators. One felt perhaps they would have been happier if he had chaired the meeting. Their solution was to refer all conclusions to him before finalising, ‘How d’you reckon that’s gonna make out, Dick?’

Richard had not been feeling well since his arrival. ‘Something I’ve eaten’ he dismissed it, although he was running a high temperature. Nevertheless, on the Saturday evening he went to two parties. The first was with Peter Woods, former BBC colleague and now ITN’s correspondent in New York. He was doing Independent Television’s commentary on the Monday. Then on to Eddi Ploman, who was running the United Nations coverage. By now he could not eat a thing, but he was still very much the life and centre of the party.

At 10 o’clock on Sunday morning a large black open car drew up outside the Algonquin Hotel in West 44th Street. It was a sunny, though fresh, autumn morning, but Richard insisted that the hood remain down for the drive round the Pope’s route. He wanted to see as much detail as possible.

Ed Stutley, the 20-stone coloured driver, made his living by driving and showing people round Manhattan. Up the long Third Avenue into Harlem he was pointing out the very blocks occupied by Italians, Puerto Ricans, Spanish and Negroes in the polyglot community. Richard made careful notes. But later on, coming back through Central Park, Richard took up the story. ‘That’s the open-air restaurant where… ‘on the next corner is Carnegie Hall…’, ‘there’s Tiffany’s, where His Holiness is not expected for breakfast…’. It was an entertainment in itself.

Caption card reading "EBU/UER NEW YORK EUROVISION VIA EARLY BIRD SATELLITE"The pope's motorcadeThe popeThe popeRay Scherer, captioned "DIRECT FROM NEW YORK"

The Pope in New York

The great day was not without incident. After the 25-mile drive to St Patrick’s Cathedral in Fifth Avenue, the Pope retired to Cardinal Spellman’s residence to rest before meeting President Johnson. Meanwhile BBC-1 slipped in the transmission of Blue Peter. On returning to New York viewers were just in time to see the Pope emerge from the residence. The timing was perfect, it seemed as if he had been cued.

Now Richard began the build-up to the historic moment. ‘This will be the first time a Pope has met a President in the United States…’ ‘All over Europe and particularly in Italy millions of people are watching and waiting for this, one of the highlights of the day….’ The Pope entered the lift at the Waldorf Astoria; on the top floor President Johnson was known to be waiting. Imagine the let-down when there appeared on the screen not the President but an American television commentator. Quickly Richard explained, ‘that is of course our NBC colleague, Ray Scherer…’. Thinking it was a temporary switching error, he flannelled. Not at all. Unknown to us, there had been a last-minute change of plan. The President would see the Pope in private first, the cameras would be let in later. It took some time to establish even that. The Eurovision control room was bedlam. Limply the several European commentators had to round off their commentaries and return viewers to their studios. One of the Italian producers turned to us, ‘Richard was able to make it sound like nothing happened, yes?’

The pope in a grand buildingU Thant, captioned "via EARLY BIRD SATELLITE"The pope, captioned "LIVE FROM NEW YORK"The popeMrs Kennedy and others listen

The Pope at the United Nations

Half an hour before he was due to introduce Panorama from the UN, Richard was already cooped up in the interpreter’s box he was using for his commentary. Scarcely larger than a telephone kiosk, it overlooked not the General Assembly but the Trusteeship Council Chamber. So for the Pope’s Address he would have to rely on his monitor. He was checking over his homework when the British party, Lord Caradon, Lord Chalfont and the Foreign Secretary, Michael Stewart, passed by. Lord Caradon stopped, ‘Richard, how nice to see you. What are you doing here? Wouldn’t you rather come and work in our room nearby?’ Richard declined, he wouldn’t leave his post at that stage.

By the time the Pope had finished speaking, and we were off the air, it was late evening in London. But to us it was still only afternoon. Richard felt flat. ‘What about a really good dinner tonight, Sardi’s or somewhere?’ we suggested. No, he couldn’t face it, he was still off his food. ‘What I’d really like to do,’ he confessed, ‘is to see Hello Dolly. It’s the one show I’ve missed.’

Although it had been running on Broadway for nearly two years, ‘Dolly’ was still sold out for months ahead. At two hours’ notice it looked impossible. Sue Goldman of the BBC New York office rang the theatre. ‘Any chance of two really good seats for tonight?’ ‘For tonight! You’re kidding…. Anyway, who are they for?’ ‘Richard Dimbleby.’ ‘Mr Dimbleby? Well now, Mr Dimbleby we can accommodate.’ For a couple of hours he really enjoyed himself.