Tuning in…
Tuning in…
Desert Island Discs
Presented by Sue Lawley
Artist and graphic satirist, known for Punch magazine, Molesworth books and the St Trinians schoolgirls.
Eight records
Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis
London Philharmonic Orchestra, conducted by Sir Adrian Boult
It's a fantasia on a theme by Thomas Talis, and Thomas Talis as an echo of England that Vaughn Williams crystallizes into a form of nostalgia that if you're a prisoner and you want to recreate England, your childhood or the history, the actual smell of the country in which I was born, this particular record is perfection.
Choir of King's College, Cambridge, conducted by Philip Ledger
Well, the second choice, Spotless Rose, basically is the roots of my childhood, my life. I was born in Cambridge. I spent all my time fascinated by the architecture and by the history.
I bought this book [about George Grosz], and it became my Bible. I suddenly realized the actual possibilities that i graphic satire could be so explosive, so so disastrous.
Im Abendrot (from Four Last Songs)
Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, with the Philharmonia Orchestra conducted by Otto Ackermann
I think the next record in a way sums up a situation where you are lost, cut off from the world. No communication whatsoever within a thousand miles, and around you everyone you've known is dying.
Bob Thiele and George David Weiss
To me, it is one of the most marvellous. A thing I'd love to take with me onto a desert island, and I can listen to it all the time. Anytime. It's euphoric.
Johnny Mercer, with Henry Mancini and his Orchestra and Chorus
is something which is nostalgic for both Monica and myself because I worked enormously on reportage in America.
Piano Concerto No. 21 in C major, K. 467: II. Andante
Daniel Barenboim, with the English Chamber Orchestra
And so the reason we've chosen Mozart is simply because not only is it an extremely personal thing for us too, but because it's a It changed in France a little, I think, judging by the reaction of the public and the press. It changed the attitude of the French towards this particular horror [cancer].
The Champagne Song (from Die Fledermaus)Favourite
Rather sums up exactly the vision of Monica and myself in the kitchen.
The keepsakes
The book
Oxford Dictionary of National Biography
Oxford University Press
what I'd love to have is a recent publication which is the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. But the problem is it's in sixty volumes. So I thought if you could persuade Oxford to bind it into one book. It'd be rather like a concertina, but I'd like to take that as my my one book.
The luxury
Oh, champagne. No, I had thought actually I had thought that my luxury would be a mosquito net, because I know that when you're stuck on an island, you're going to be eaten alive anyway by insects. Then I thought, oh, to hell with that, let's have champagne. Because what I would do is I would drink this I would have the best possible bottle of champagne, probably crystal rotor, and then I would write a note, put it into the bottle, throw it into the sea saying, please send another one.
In conversation
Presenter asks
Do you miss the old country [Britain]?
Well, I don't miss any particular country because I think the point is if you're a freelance artist and you're commenting on the world around you, you've got to live on an island. And I had the advantage of perhaps being captured and put into prison. And one curiosity is that once you've been a prisoner, you never escape from your island prison.
Presenter asks
How much do you think that experience [as a prisoner of war] influenced or permeated your work that came after that?
Perhaps to a certain extent, but I think basically what changed was the fact that. There'd been a war. And war is nothing but killing. I mean a soldier is there to kill, that's all. I mean you're trained to kill. So the mentality really of everyone who was involved in the war was that no longer the politeness of pre war existed. Horror, misery, Blackness, the horribleness that one saw. This obviously changed the attitude towards all things, and certainly as far as humour was concerned.
The recording
Timestamps play the recording from that turn
Presenter
Hello, I'm Kirsty Young, and this is a podcast from the Desert Island Discs archive. For rights reasons we've had to shorten the music. The programme was originally broadcast in two thousand and five.
Speaker 1
Yeah.
Presenter
And the presenter?
Speaker 1
was Sue Lowley.
Presenter
Mike Castaway this week is an artist and illustrator. He describes himself as a graphic satirist. For the past thirty six years he's lived here in the French village of Torture, on the roof of the Varre in Provence, where at the age of eighty five he's still working. These days it's mainly for the newspaper Le Monde, producing effective apercius on political chicanery and corporate greed. In the nineteen fifties he was one of the most famous men in Britain, a stalwart of Punch magazine, illustrator of the glorious Molesworth books, and creator of that female hell on earth, St Trinians. But the most important event in his life happened even earlier than that. At the age of twenty two, a sapper in the Royal Engineers, he was captured by the Japanese and put to work on the Burma Railway, a working death camp full of hideous brutality and terrible disease, where ninety five per cent of the prisoners died.
Presenter
Throughout it all he drew to help himself survive. Everything goes back to being a prisoner, he says. You can't have that sort of experience without it affecting the rest of your life. He is Ronald Searle.
Presenter
So here you live, Ronald, high in the hills of Provence. You've lived here in this village for the past thirty six years. In fact, you've spent more than half your life now, I think, in France forty four years. Do you do you miss us? Do you miss the old country?
Ronald Searle
Well, I don't miss any particular country because I think the point is if you're a freelance artist and you're commenting on the world around you, you've got to live on an island. And I had the advantage of perhaps being captured and put into prison. And one curiosity is that once you've been a prisoner, you never escape from your island prison. And it gives you the point of view of looking around you and being able to comment or react to anything that's around you without having any parochial responsibility. I'm not French, I'm not Provençal, I like the people, I love the village, but I'm still a foreigner on a little island.
Presenter
But the the problem is, of course, that therefore the British you've made this comment yourself before now tend, if you're not careful, to think, you know, you're dead and gone, because they haven't sort of seen you or known you around for so long.
Ronald Searle
One marvellous thing about having left England is that in America they've never heard of Centrillions, in France they've never heard of Centrillians, in Germany never heard of Centrillions, the English have a tendency to pigeonhole you.
Ronald Searle
Ronald Searle is the person who did the Centrinus programmes. That was fifty, sixty years ago. But it's almost as if you've done nothing since nineteen fifty six.
Presenter
Yes. I think you once drew the analogy, didn't you, that you felt you were a cook who might be capable of making a classic sauce, but one day you knocked off a jam tart. And people have been asking you, or certainly the English have asked you for more jam tarts ever since. Exactly. But you are still very active, as I said just now, and you obviously.
Presenter
relish that, although you you live apart here, and I know you your telephone doesn't ring because you've cut off the bell, not because it wouldn't ring if it could. But you can't call yourself a recluse because you're not. You're actually a very gregarious person. It's a strange contradiction of a life that you lead.
Ronald Searle
Well, it's not a contradiction. I think if you're an illustrator or if you're a social commentator, you've got to have the material. You have your German newspapers, your French newspapers, your English newspapers, your English magazines. You have the lot. Because in fact, to create
Ronald Searle
I think you've got to be in isolation in a certain sense. But the thing is you cannot work in isolation without bringing in the world.
Ronald Searle
But you can actually execute in isolation.
Presenter
So this is your style of isolation. We now, as you know, are sending you to another style, an imaginary desert island. Tell me about the first record that you'd like to play there.
Ronald Searle
The first record, in fact, is to do with isolation in that sense.
Ronald Searle
It's a fantasia on a theme by Thomas Talis, and Thomas Talis.
Ronald Searle
as an echo of England that Vaughn Williams crystallizes into a form of nostalgia that if you're a prisoner and you want to recreate England, your childhood or the history, the actual smell of the country in which I was born, this particular record is perfection.
Presenter
Part of Vaughan Williams' Fantasia on a theme by Thomas Talis, played by the London Philemonic, conducted by Sir Adrian Bolton. Music, you say, Ronald Searle, that represents for you the the roots from which you'd been torn when you found yourself as a young man in his early twenties, a prisoner of war in the tropical misery of South East Asia. You did hundreds of drawings, I know, during your four years of captivity, and I want to talk to you about those. But how much do you think
Presenter
That experience influenced or permeated your work that came after that. You know, people.
Presenter
point at St Trinians, and it may be too literal an example, you know, the anarchic cruelty in them. Was that fed by that experience?
Ronald Searle
Perhaps to a certain extent, but I think basically what changed was the fact that.
Ronald Searle
There'd been a war.
Ronald Searle
And war is nothing but killing.
Ronald Searle
I mean a soldier is there to kill, that's all. I mean you're trained to kill.
Ronald Searle
So the mentality really of everyone who was involved in the war was that no longer the politeness of pre war existed. Horror, misery,
Ronald Searle
Blackness, the horribleness that one saw. This obviously changed the attitude towards all things, and certainly as far as humour was concerned.
Presenter
But do you think you would have found it as easy to do? Or I w I wonder if you'd have found your way naturally into that kind of black humour if it hadn't been for the Prisoner of War.
Ronald Searle
Not at all, absolutely impossible. You've got to have the experience to be able to express it. The fact that my work at that period, which was called Black Humour, they say that I was partly a father of the black humour. But if you have that experience, you have to have a public that could accept it. And the fact that this humour suddenly was accepted in a big way.
Ronald Searle
meant basically that
Ronald Searle
The attitude towards humour had changed.
Presenter
But it was said, wasn't it, when you were a boy, when you were drawing, that you had a proclivity for the grotesque early on.
Ronald Searle
Perhaps that's because I was left-handed.
Ronald Searle
I don't really know. No, I think I've always been curious, probably interested in the grotesque, but that may well have been the fact that Cambridge is littered with some lovely museums where there was everything from shrunken heads to
Presenter
I think
Ronald Searle
Fabulous African masks and I think there's the grotesque element was probably very apparent then. It simply was the smell of the thyme, if you like.
Presenter
Record number two.
Ronald Searle
Well, the second choice, Spotless Rose, basically is the roots of my childhood, my life. I was born in Cambridge.
Ronald Searle
I spent all my time fascinated by the architecture and by the history. I love history, I love people. And one could walk into King's College Chapel, sit there alone in this magnificent building, and hear a choir practice and be swamped by these incredible voices. And for me, this a spotless rose, which was a century earlier than the chapel itself.
Ronald Searle
Has all the
Ronald Searle
excitement and all the terrifying agony, if you like, of what it is to be alone in another century, listening to unaccompanied voices with all the benefits of the architecture that was created so many centuries before.
Presenter
Yeah.
Speaker 1
Reach my hand.
Presenter
And so
Presenter
His robot sweet rose ringing in medic for through God's grace.
Speaker 1
The light of bless and future she bears in our
Presenter
A spotless rose, arranged by Herbert Howells and performed by the choir of King's College, Cambridge, conducted by Philip Ledger. The soloist was Gareth Morrell, and the organist Francis Greer. Um I'm told, Ronald Searle, that not a lot of people know this, but you were once called the Nightingale of East Anglia. You were a boy soprano, were you?
Ronald Searle
Yes, well I've been trying to hide that ever since I was born. I d the idea of being a knighting cat of East Anglia.
Ronald Searle
There aren't many nightingales in East Anglia actually, it's mostly crows.
Presenter
But did they send you round?
Ronald Searle
Prison.
Ronald Searle
Yeah, exactly. One rehearsal, Vaughan Williams sat in and listened to it. I sang in the choir, much to my horror, because they paid you six shillings uh a year as choir boys benefits. Well, thank God, puberty struck.
Ronald Searle
And before my East Anglian wings could really take off, my voice dropped.
Presenter
Uh
Ronald Searle
And all was well.
Presenter
Presumably you were quite rich by then, and did you get to keep this money?
Ronald Searle
Six shillings. Actually, three shillings went to my family and three shillings went to me for pocket money.
Presenter
Which was quite a lot of money then. And and your background was quite humble, wasn't it? Your father.
Ronald Searle
Well, we weren't actually poor, but what we we didn't have any money.
Ronald Searle
There was a difference in those days. You see, the thing is that those particular days they were a horrible thing called the means test, and you had to ask beg for money. Well, we didn't we had lodgers instead. But uh six shillings then was quite a lot of money, you know. Absolutely.
Presenter
Absolutely. It's very, very interesting, isn't it? Because as I say, yours was obviously a natural talent. You did it every minute of the day, as I understand it. You were always r drawing. And I think at fifteen you were offered uh work from the Cambridge Daily News.
Ronald Searle
Absolutely.
Presenter
And you then went on a bit later on, or at the same time, I think, to work for Granter, the University of Cambridge newspaper, didn't you?
Ronald Searle
Yes, well that was parallel in that sense. But what was fascinating for me was that I was actually involved with a group on the granter, well because they're intellectual in the best sense.
Ronald Searle
Arthur Sledinger Junior, who was advisor to Kennedy, Eric Hobsbaum.
Ronald Searle
Charles Winter, who was editor of the evening standard.
Ronald Searle
And so on and so on. When I was with a group of people who were, shall we say, intellectually interesting.
Ronald Searle
This was the moment when when all the spies in Cambridge were meeting in all the corners under Blunt.
Presenter
Mm-hmm.
Presenter
Hmm.
Ronald Searle
Yeah.
Ronald Searle
And if you like, it was a it was a very revealing moment, which was not necessarily a good moment, but a very revealing moment historically, I think.
Presenter
But as an eighteen year old boy, you obviously didn't know all of that was going on, but you could feel it in the ether, as it were. You felt you were somewhere that was interesting, and you were very happy, weren't you? It was a fascinating time, and you were doing what you wanted to do in life, which is
Ronald Searle
Absolutely, because I think when you're that sort of age, then I was actually s I was sixteen, seventeen, you're a sponge.
Presenter
Mm.
Ronald Searle
I also had friends who worked in the Cavendish Laboratory. They just chipped the atom, and outside St. Andrew's Great Church.
Ronald Searle
with a corset chop.
Ronald Searle
And outside the corset shop would be standing an old white haired man with a battered hat.
Ronald Searle
Gazing at the corset.
Ronald Searle
Professor J J Thompson, who in fact
Ronald Searle
Split the atom.
Ronald Searle
No one knew the consequences. I mean, one was involved in that moment with such a global disaster.
Ronald Searle
which then was minor movement in Cambridge.
Ronald Searle
It brushed off.
Presenter
Record number three.
Ronald Searle
Cambridge again, one thing I used to do was to wander round the bookshops, and Heffers in Petticurie had a sixpenny box, and one day in this box I found a small book
Ronald Searle
About a a German satirical artist called George Gross.
Ronald Searle
I bought this book, and it became my Bible.
Ronald Searle
I suddenly realized the actual
Ronald Searle
possibilities that i graphic satire could be so
Ronald Searle
Explosive, so so disastrous. And I thought, my God, you know, I wanted to become a m a great man like George Gross. That little book stayed in my pocket when I went into the army. Officially we were fighting Germany, but I mean, to me, I had in my pocket I had someone who represented the best of what Germany could possibly be.
Speaker 2
An ampern, lau went on ta, Lie sein tot, man am friend, Undein men.
Speaker 1
Hmm.
Speaker 2
Fly for vumpum, hum doman sha.
Presenter
The Moritat von Machimesse, the opening to Kurtwaiel and Bertolt Brecht's Trotny Opera, sung by Harold Paulsson, and that was from the original cast recording of 1928. So, Ronald, you volunteered. You were called up, in fact, on the very first day of the war in September 1939. You were nineteen years old, a sapper, as I say, in the Royal Engineers. You spent two years being posted around the UK on training exercises, and then you were sent to the Far East, to Singapore, in 1942. Did you have any idea at all of what you were being sent to?
Ronald Searle
Well, in our case we were told we were being sent to the Far East.
Ronald Searle
To fight Japanese, and for all of us, the Japanese were.
Ronald Searle
What, Fu Manchu?
Ronald Searle
No one knew anything about them at all.
Ronald Searle
And our commanders simply said to us, No problem, you know, they're slit-eyed, they can't shoot straight, they're just a lot of, you know.
Ronald Searle
Yellow dwarfs.
Ronald Searle
That sounds really rather horrible. That was the attitude at that epoch. Anyway, we were three months at sea. We finally ended up in Singapore.
Ronald Searle
Of course the Japanese, in their own clever way, simply descended from behind us, and all we did basically for a month was to run backwards.
Presenter
How long before you were captured?
Ronald Searle
We had a month fighting in the jungle, and of course, the Japanese.
Ronald Searle
if one could say so, were brilliant at uh guerrilla warfare. Uh they sat up in the top of every palm tree. As you walked down below, they shot you. And suddenly we found ourselves
Ronald Searle
pathetic little territorials who'd never seen a Japanese before,
Ronald Searle
Taken prisoner, you were in a temperature on the equator, practically. You were in a temperature of about ninety degrees all the time.
Presenter
Did you realize immediately that this was going to be a terrible experience that wasn't going to be in line with any kind of international agreement on the holding of prisoners?
Ronald Searle
Yeah.
Ronald Searle
When you're nineteen years old and you're taken prisoner by a people you have of which you have no conception at all, of a culture which is so far from your own.
Ronald Searle
You have absolutely no idea of what your future would be. It was only gradually, as the years went by, the months went by, that you realized that you were, in fact,
Ronald Searle
Dirt.
Ronald Searle
Available to your captor to do anything he wished. You were nothing at all.
Presenter
And if you didn't do what, he wished you were shot.
Ronald Searle
Well, not necessary. What happened to us very frequently was that we were very badly beaten.
Ronald Searle
A Japanese carrying a bamboo pole.
Ronald Searle
Beating you is like being beaten with old iron bar. No, the only people who executed were people who tried to escape.
Ronald Searle
There you dug your own grave and that was it.
Presenter
Thank you, Doug.
Presenter
But against this background, right from the start you kept drawing, didn't you? In fact, you started a magazine up in the very beginning, didn't you?
Ronald Searle
Well, there are two or three of us. We started a magazine. Yes, that was one reason why I got sent up t to the Siam.
Ronald Searle
We we decided to create a magazine to keep the prisoners amused, but in fact it upset all the what you might call the extremely conservative mentalities of our own administration.
Presenter
What the commanders in the chap
Ronald Searle
Very much so, yes.
Ronald Searle
And when the time came for the Japanese to say we want groups to be sent up north.
Ronald Searle
The English chose
Presenter
The trouble makers.
Ronald Searle
Yeah, and I was on one of the parties that went up to uh the Tai Burma railway.
Presenter
Darby
Ronald Searle
and is known in a popular way as the bridge on the River Kwai. But in fact it was the Tai Burma railway on which there were bridges on the River Kwai, and I was on the River Kwai di and all the building of the bridges.
Ronald Searle
There I lost all my friends.
Presenter
Let's pause there for record number four.
Ronald Searle
I think the next record in a way sums up a situation where you are lost, cut off from the world.
Ronald Searle
No communication whatsoever within a thousand miles, and around you everyone you've known is dying.
Ronald Searle
And you're in a jungle which in itself is rather beautiful, rather like a cathedral despite all the insects, but there's a certain atmosphere which is conjured up for me by this particular song, one of the four last songs written by Strauss, sung by Schwartzkopf, which has in the end an element of hope.
Ronald Searle
You know you're going towards death.
Ronald Searle
You start to think, well, maybe this is a release.
Ronald Searle
Maybe this is beautiful, who knows?
Presenter
Elizabeth Schwarzkopf singing The End of Im Arbentrot, the last of Richard Strauss's four last songs, with the Philharmonia Orchestra conducted by Otto Ackermann.
Presenter
And she sings, as you say, Ronald Serley, Can Can This Be Death?
Presenter
From everything you've said, obviously that's how it felt. And as you say, every morning you woke up and more of your friends had died. Uh you obviously felt
Presenter
that that was what was going to happen to you.
Presenter
How what was the nadia for you? How bad did it get? How ill did you become?
Ronald Searle
Well, we were all ill. I mean, you can't be in the jungle without being ill. The problem with the jungle is it's very beautiful, but in it you've got insects, and those insects bring uh life or death. Uh we were eaten alive, if you like, uh all the time we were working.
Ronald Searle
Most of the time we were working eighteen hours out of twenty four a day, breaking rock, constructing a railway through a jungle which is supposed to be probably the most impenetrable jungle on this planet.
Ronald Searle
But the terrifying thing was that you were with your friends.
Ronald Searle
people you grew up with, or people you joined the army with, and you wake up in the morning and find that each side of you one of your friends was dead.
Ronald Searle
Inevitably you were covered in
Ronald Searle
Miserable, irritating.
Ronald Searle
Painful skin diseases, apart from the fact that you were working physically and your food was almost non-existent.
Ronald Searle
You still have to retain some sort of optimism. And curiously enough, the thing that kept me going was if I could only.
Ronald Searle
Draw.
Ronald Searle
and show people what it was like, I would have achieved some sort of object in the short life I was probably going to have. But I was convinced I was coming back with those drawings.
Presenter
Be well.
Ronald Searle
Uh
Presenter
Yeah.
Ronald Searle
Absolutely. I I I was sure that it was as when I say lack of imagination. I didn't believe it.
Presenter
But your colleagues weren't. I mean, they've one of them well, several of them have said since, but Russell Braddon in particular, who was a a a friend and fellow survivor, said that you were a very sick boy by late nineteen forty-three. You and you had, we know, malaria, regular bouts of these tropical source, berry, berry, you were down to sick stone, you couldn't walk because you'd been beaten. I think he expected to wake up and find you dead, didn't he?
Ronald Searle
Yes, but that was the norm.
Presenter
Hmm.
Ronald Searle
The horrible thing is that you've seen pictures of Belsen, you've seen pictures of what happened in Yugoslavia, Croatia, pictures long after the war, in in our own recent uh history.
Ronald Searle
What people are capable of doing and what the result can be. People can be reduced to nothing.
Ronald Searle
And still have the will to survive. And what's so fabulous is that the human body can suddenly revive.
Ronald Searle
You can go through all this and you can still come out of it, so that when you come back to England your sister says, Oh, you haven't changed much.
Presenter
What about, you know, the the the the other impression we have, most particularly from the film you mentioned, Bridge on the River Kwai, we get the impression that that the men found a kind of sense of pride in building this railway.
Ronald Searle
No, nonsense
Presenter
It's a rubbish.
Ronald Searle
Absolute rubbish. No, no, really rubbish. This is sort of uh a Frenchman's idea Frenchman's idea how the Englishman would behave. Jolly good chaps and all that, you know, ha let's build a bridge, we must do it, good chap you know.
Presenter
But is there room for fellow feeling, or is the need to survive a completely selfish business?
Ronald Searle
Fellow feeling was absolutely fabulous. One thing that one learned was that the that human beings could be so marvellous to each other.
Ronald Searle
It can be so horrible to each other.
Ronald Searle
But um under these circumstances survival really depended on the attachment you had with your fellow prisoners.
Presenter
We have a very strong picture of what it was like because.
Ronald Searle
We have a
Presenter
Three hundred. Three hundred, which is amazing really, of the thing of the pictures that you drew survived, although obviously you drew many more than that. Where did you get the paper, the pencil? How did you keep them? Surely, again, it was a a kind of punishable offence.
Ronald Searle
Well, it's punishable if every point is that everyone had a book.
Ronald Searle
And in every book there's a fly paper.
Ronald Searle
and people would tear out the fly pages of the book, and people gave me the paper, or gave me the fly paper, and I made my drawings on any any rubbish that I could find.
Presenter
And you were drawing, as you said, because it was your lifeline. It was how you knew you were still you inside this ravaged body. It was a a lifebug. But did you also have in mind that you were creating a record?
Ronald Searle
Yeah.
Presenter
of these events.
Ronald Searle
Oh, very much so. He's I wanted to create a record. I wanted
Ronald Searle
to be a camera. And that's it. I am a camera. If you like, it began my career as an artist reporter, but it wasn't directly that that
Ronald Searle
Decision. The decision basically was: I had to let people know what was happening.
Ronald Searle
I was convinced that some one had to put down on paper exactly what was happening but what was never explained to us what was never apparent was that this was the clash of two cultures.
Ronald Searle
The Japanese culture is so removed from our little territorial culture.
Ronald Searle
Under Japanese culture, Japanese military tradition, to be a prisoner was the lowest of the low. They died before they were taken prisoner.
Ronald Searle
If you accept to be taken prisoner,
Ronald Searle
Drop dead if it's what you were expected to do.
Presenter
Record number five.
Ronald Searle
Long before all that happened, when we were children in Cambridge,
Ronald Searle
One of the marvellous things that my parents did was every Saturday night, although we really had to scrape up the money, was to go to the local music hall, which was the new theatre in Cambridge.
Ronald Searle
In this particular week it was Louis Armstrong and his band.
Ronald Searle
And this particular record
Ronald Searle
To me, it is one of the most marvellous. A thing I'd love to take with me onto a desert island, and I can listen to it all the time.
Ronald Searle
Anytime.
Ronald Searle
It's euphoric.
Ronald Searle
I see trees of green.
Ronald Searle
Red Roof is changed.
Ronald Searle
I see them blue.
Ronald Searle
Five minutes.
Ronald Searle
And I think to myself.
Ronald Searle
What a wonderful world!
Presenter
Louis Armstrong and what a wonderful world. So you came back home to the UK.
Presenter
Uh Ronald Searle, you recovered really reasonably quickly, physically, anyway.
Presenter
Um and by the age of thirty you were living in London, you were married, you were the father of twins and you were keeping up a pretty hectic professional schedule, weren't you? Cartoons and drawing for punch, Sunday Express, Tribune, travel books, advertisements, memorably for Lemonheart Rum, of course. Um Walt Disney an animations, I think, as well. You were really fulfilling all of your very early professional dreams, weren't you?
Ronald Searle
Not really. I was in a state of panic.
Ronald Searle
And if you suddenly come back and find yourself married and with two children,
Ronald Searle
Your freelancing?
Ronald Searle
You belt away taking any job that's available. I mean, the thing is, you have to earn money. It was really a marathon.
Ronald Searle
to keep going, to keep keep your head above water. And there comes a breaking point, and and the breaking point came, f finally. When you come out of the sort of world that I came out of, which was a world of total unreality, into a post war Britain,
Ronald Searle
The whole thing was not only transitory, it was ephemeral.
Presenter
But you essentially you decided to turn your back on it, both professionally and personally, because in nineteen sixty one
Ronald Searle
Because in nineteen sixty
Presenter
You wrote a note, your wife and children were away from home. I think the twins were, what, fourteen by then, something like that. You wrote a note.
Ronald Searle
14, yes they were.
Presenter
And you just said I've gone.
Ronald Searle
Yes, I think it was the best decision I ever made. It took a long time for the relationship between myself and the children to sort itself out. But in fact, the decision was correct, I think. The thing is that, all right, it was brutal. But I think a decision like that has to be brutal. You are a very well-known personality at that time in England. You suddenly decide to disappear and to start from zero.
Ronald Searle
It didn't worry me because I'd been to zero
Ronald Searle
Before.
Ronald Searle
When you've been the lowest of the low, you can never go down lower.
Presenter
But you wanted to start again and you didn't care what anyone you left behind would say about you. I mean friends and colleagues obviously had of you.
Ronald Searle
No, totally eccentric.
Ronald Searle
It was really a if you like, it it was survival again, if you if you like. It was a question of survival. And I I decided that I'm I'm sorry, but I had to abandon my wife, abandon my children, abandon my house, abandon my r career, abandon my reputation, the lot, and start from zero.
Presenter
Record number six.
Ronald Searle
Well at that point we come to Marvellous Monica.
Ronald Searle
We'd met in Paris before I left England and when I came to France and I joined Monica, that was forty
Ronald Searle
42, 42, 44 years ago, I think. Yes, I think so.
Presenter
Forty-two, forty-two, forty-four.
Ronald Searle
And I think it's going to work out.
Ronald Searle
Record number six.
Ronald Searle
is something which is
Ronald Searle
nostalgic for both Monica and myself because I worked enormously on reportage in America. And we'd go there always in the winter, snow would be falling, ice all over the place. We'd land up in this beautiful wooden house of the eighteenth century house.
Ronald Searle
and put on the discs. And one of the discs I remember particularly was Moon River, sung by Johnny Mercer with Henry Mancini and his ghastly orchestra.
Presenter
Boy Began a boy
Presenter
I'm crossing you in style someday
Presenter
Oh dream.
Presenter
Make it.
Presenter
Johnny Mercer and Moon River with Henry Mancini and his orchestra and chorus, and that was recorded in nineteen sixty. You spent uh Ronald Searle in the nineteen sixties, as you say, travelling the world, you and Monica together really, doing your reportage work and so on, and you'd earlier on you'd covered the Kennedy and Nixon elections and done cartoons of them and
Presenter
who later did Eichmann's Trial in Jerusalem. A mass of serious work, and many light hearted books, too, followed, and work for the New Yorker, and those wonderful anthropomorphic snails and cats. Too much work to dis discuss or go through here, but
Presenter
Much of it in the nineteen seventies was collected together in the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris, wasn't it, for a major retrospective. Weren't you the first living foreigner to be accorded this great French honour?
Ronald Searle
Well, I must say it was an honor actually because it's rather like having three floors in the British Museum or three floors in the Victorian Abbott Museum with all its showcases, its brass showcases which date from about the eighteenth century, with all its marble staircases.
Ronald Searle
No, it was a great honour actually.
Presenter
But the point about the retrospective is a serious one, isn't it? Because it's happened here in France, it hasn't happened in Britain, despite the fact that there are those
Presenter
who know not only are you uh the major satirical draughtsman that you are, but uh they would say that you're as important in the history of the genre as Gilray and Rolandson. Do you do you feel
Presenter
in a sense passed over by your fellow countrymen.
Presenter
They're not
Ronald Searle
Not really, and one doesn't demand anything. I'm very aware of my roots. My roots are English, and certainly, as far as as far as uh humour is concerned, one can't escape from the fact that
Ronald Searle
The origins
Ronald Searle
Of the area one is working in was Hogarth, Gilray, Rawlinson, Crookshank.
Ronald Searle
A great two centuries or a century and a half of
Ronald Searle
genius creation. The thing is that I'm working in a media in which I wish to express myself to the maximum. I'm not parochial. I don't think about the recognition side at all. It's absolutely true. I'm working in isolation. If there's a reaction, it's marvellous.
Presenter
But if you suddenly hear that one of your drawings is sold for ten thousand pounds
Ronald Searle
I say, yeah, who got the money?
Ronald Searle
Why did I sold it for five guineas?
Ronald Searle
No, no, I don't think that's I don't think that's one could take that really.
Presenter
By code number seven.
Ronald Searle
Ah, yes.
Ronald Searle
It's very personal. You know, New Year's Eve in 1969, Monica was diagnosed as having a cancer that was
Ronald Searle
they said incurable, and they gave her six months to live. At that period, in the sixties and seventies, in France, cancer was really rather like having V D or AIDS. It was not spoken of openly at all.
Ronald Searle
And she was then approached by French television to say, would you mind doing a programme?
Ronald Searle
Speaking openly about cancer as a
Ronald Searle
As a problem.
Ronald Searle
And she fought this and still is still fighting it. And uh one lovely thing was that the whole background music uh to this programme was this piano concerto number twenty one of Mozart.
Ronald Searle
And so the reason we've chosen Mozart is simply because not only is it an extremely personal thing for us too, but because it's a
Ronald Searle
It changed in France a little, I think, judging by the reaction of the public and the press. It changed the attitude of the French towards this particular horror.
Presenter
Part of the second movement of Mozart's Piano Concerto No. twenty one in C major, played by Daniel Barenboim with the English Chamber Orchestra.
Presenter
So Monica has now defied the prognosis by several decades, and I think seen off a few doctors in the process. You, Ronald, are in your mid eighties and still working in the main, as I said, in the introduction for Le Monde, exposing political chicanery here from your
Presenter
Provençal Erie. And you said, you know, that um everything goes back to the memories that you can never escape being a prisoner of war sixty years ago now, of course. We're celebrating the sixtieth anniversary of V J Day soon. Do you keep in touch even now with other survivors and do you feel the need to talk to them?
Ronald Searle
Oh yes.
Ronald Searle
Oh, absolutely, yes. There aren't many of us left now, unfortunately. I think the last news I had, I think we're we're probably down to about twelve, I think, of two hundred and forty or something like that. In my own company, I think I was almost the last one. But I mean, for example, I have a great friend who is a farmer, and we speak to each other once a week and discuss cows or discuss this and that, you know. But there's a sort of
Presenter
But you don't discuss it.
Ronald Searle
Oh, never. No. If a a book comes out, uh we discuss whether the book bears any resemblance to the reality or not. But it basically we just talk w we discuss the fact that we're there.
Ronald Searle
And uh it's a consolation to know there are still one or two people with whom you've shared that sort of experience, who are still around to guard the memory in that sense.
Presenter
Because no one else could ever understand.
Ronald Searle
Well, the problem is, you see,
Ronald Searle
If all your generation, everyone you knew, died when they were nineteen and twenty.
Ronald Searle
You've got the biggest present in the world. You live from day to day thinking, My God, you know, I should have died when I was nineteen and I'm eighty five now. How many presents can one have in one's life? I mean, every day is a present. And I'm obviously making for me, I'm making the best I can of every second I have of my life.
Ronald Searle
Including hmm.
Presenter
I know where you're going.
Ronald Searle
The fact that I don't drive, someone said to me that I'd said that champagne was my engine oil.
Ronald Searle
Okay, fine. I don't drive. Let let's have it let's have Indian oil.
Ronald Searle
In the bottle, huh?
Ronald Searle
As far as I'm concerned, one of the great pleasures of living in France is that we can get our bottles of champagne straight from the supplier, and that the day is over and the glass of champagne is bubbling, and off we go into the next day. You know, there's still a pleasure to be had out out of clinking the odd glass here and there. And there's one reason why I've chosen the next record, but for me it's the champagne song from Fledermaus.
Ronald Searle
Rather sums up exactly the vision of Monica and myself in the kitchen.
Speaker 1
Shampano, Kunis Alarbaine, Sampania, Shampania!
Ronald Searle
Shusan, Shusan, Shusan.
Speaker 2
Uh
Presenter
Yeah.
Speaker 1
Do you guys
Presenter
Uh
Speaker 1
You should borrow the race
Presenter
Champagne song from Johann Strauss's Die Pfledemaus with Regina Reisnick, Erika Koert, and Waldemar Kmint, with the chorus of the Vienna State Opera and the Vienna State Orchestra conducted by Herbert von Karrion. If you could only take one of those eight records, Ronald, which one would you take?
Ronald Searle
What are those records? Why is it the last one?
Presenter
I don't know.
Ronald Searle
No problem. I mean, uh if I want to have an uplift uh stuck on an island, uh there's no doubt about it. Champagne even listening to it, I don't have to drink.
Ronald Searle
Well egg is in the air.
Presenter
And what about your book? As you know, you get the Bible in China.
Ronald Searle
Ah, yes. Well, you know, I thought about there's a lot and you know, I I I'm fascinated by history and fascinated by people. And I thought, well, what I'd love to have is a recent publication which is the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. But the problem is it's in sixty volumes. So I thought if you could persuade Oxford to bind it into one book.
Ronald Searle
It'd be rather like a concertina, but I'd like to take that as my my one book.
Presenter
And your luxury, what would that be?
Ronald Searle
Oh, champagne. No, I had thought actually I had thought that my luxury would be a mosquito net, because I know that when you're stuck on an island, you're going to be eaten alive anyway by insects. Then I thought, oh, to hell with that, let's have champagne. Because what I would do is I would drink this I would have the best possible bottle of champagne, probably crystal rotor, and then I would write a note, put it into the bottle, throw it into the sea saying, please send another one.
Presenter
Ronald South, thank you very much indeed for letting us hear your Desert Island descs.
Presenter
You've been listening to a podcast from the Desert Islandists archive. For more podcasts please visit bbc.co.uk slash radio four.
Presenter asks
Did you realize immediately that this was going to be a terrible experience that wasn't going to be in line with any kind of international agreement on the holding of prisoners?
When you're nineteen years old and you're taken prisoner by a people you have of which you have no conception at all, of a culture which is so far from your own. You have absolutely no idea of what your future would be. It was only gradually, as the years went by, the months went by, that you realized that you were, in fact, Dirt. Available to your captor to do anything he wished. You were nothing at all.
Presenter asks
Did you also have in mind that you were creating a record of these events?
Oh, very much so. He's I wanted to create a record. I wanted to be a camera. And that's it. I am a camera. If you like, it began my career as an artist reporter, but it wasn't directly that that Decision. The decision basically was: I had to let people know what was happening.
Presenter asks
You essentially decided to turn your back on [your life in London] both professionally and personally... you wrote a note and you just said 'I've gone'?
Yes, I think it was the best decision I ever made. It took a long time for the relationship between myself and the children to sort itself out. But in fact, the decision was correct, I think. The thing is that, all right, it was brutal. But I think a decision like that has to be brutal. You are a very well-known personality at that time in England. You suddenly decide to disappear and to start from zero.
Presenter asks
Do you keep in touch even now with other survivors and do you feel the need to talk to them?
Oh yes. Oh, absolutely, yes. There aren't many of us left now, unfortunately. I think the last news I had, I think we're we're probably down to about twelve, I think, of two hundred and forty or something like that... we just talk w we discuss the fact that we're there. And uh it's a consolation to know there are still one or two people with whom you've shared that sort of experience, who are still around to guard the memory in that sense.
“once you've been a prisoner, you never escape from your island prison. And it gives you the point of view of looking around you and being able to comment or react to anything that's around you without having any parochial responsibility.”
“I decided that I'm I'm sorry, but I had to abandon my wife, abandon my children, abandon my house, abandon my r career, abandon my reputation, the lot, and start from zero.”
“If all your generation, everyone you knew, died when they were nineteen and twenty. You've got the biggest present in the world. You live from day to day thinking, My God, you know, I should have died when I was nineteen and I'm eighty five now. How many presents can one have in one's life? I mean, every day is a present.”