Tuning in…
Tuning in…
Desert Island Discs
Presented by Kirsty Young
A cartoonist whose sharp wit has satirised all walks of life for six decades, and who is now cartoon editor of The Spectator.
Eight records
The keepsakes
The book
George and Weedon Grossmith
It's about a family lived in Clapham or somewhere, and it's hysterical, and it hasn't aged at all.
The luxury
I'd have a painting kit, so I could learn to paint properly, and I'd have a critic fly over and then review it. It's a stunning drawing, first painting the colour in the corner and the neon sign written backwards saying bum.
In conversation
Presenter asks
Is it your aim when people look at one of your cartoons to make them laugh out loud and move on swiftly, or do you want them to smile and think?
I want to buy it. Uh I have no idea. Other than the fact that I have a morbid fear of um boring everyone witless and uh hopefully um they will get the joke.
Presenter asks
How much do you think cartoonists should be concerned about offending people's sensibilities?
Well, there's a limit what you can do. I mean now if you can't draw them. Certain things, and you can be killed by it. I mean, it adds a certain frision to your drawing. However, I'm not that sort of cartoonist. I try to keep you amused, like laughing or telling jokes in the air raid shelter.
Presenter asks
The recording
Timestamps play the recording from that turn
Michael Heath
This is the B B C.
Presenter
Hello, I'm Kirsty Young. Thank you for downloading this podcast of Desert Island Discs from BBC Radio 4. For rights reasons, the music choices are shorter than in the radio broadcast.
Presenter
For more information about the programme, please visit bbc.co.uk slash radio four.
Presenter
My castaway this week is the cartoonist Michael Heath. For sixty years his sharpened nib and equally pointed wit have satirised the bumptuous, hypocritical and contradictory behaviour of
Presenter
Well, all of us. High court judges, punk rockers, schoolchildren, politicians, young mums, shopkeepers, city gents, hipsters, all have, at one time or another, been skewered by the pithy concision of his pen. He's brought humour to the pages of virtually every British newspaper there is, and he's currently cartoon editor of The Spectator. Born in the mid-1930s, his schooling throughout the war years was virtually non-existent. By the age of twelve, he still couldn't read and write, and as a student he claims to have hated every minute of art college. But the fact remains that it was drawing that ended up connecting him to the rest of the world. He says the idea of being a cartoonist came because I could draw silly things. I couldn't read or write, but I could communicate with cartoons. So welcome, Michael Heath. You sounded there in the middle of that introduction as if you wanted to contradict me.
Michael Heath
Now, you're completely correct. The reason I did draw, I suppose, was because that I really couldn't read or write, and I could sort of scribble little drawings down. I sort of wanted to do that. My father was a cartoonist of children's comics, film fun, radio fun. They weren't humorous, cowboys and Indians, detective stories and things like that. And he hated every moment of it. He was a teacher once upon a time, but he gave it up and became an illustrator of children's comics, which paid much better than being a teacher. So I think before the war, he was earning up to £30 a week, when the average wage was about four pence. But he learnt to hate it, and they worked him into the ground. The only reason I'm bringing this up is because I was surrounded by people who my mother could draw too, illustrate little drawings for the picture goer. And the way they talked about their work and the way he hated it, and it ruined his life, he thought.
Michael Heath
The last thing I should have become was what I became, a cartoonist.
Presenter
We're living in a particularly tumultuous and fascinating time politically. I'm wondering if that makes for very rich pickings for a cartoonist.
Michael Heath
Yeah, I want to get
Michael Heath
Well it does, unless it's the one at the moment because they're going through all this nonsense of changing government and all the rest of it and then it goes on and on and on and on and they take over everything and the air goes out of everything and there's nothing else and there's no action in no other show in town other than politicians. And I'm not mad about being a political cartoonist. I do sort of everything. I satirize. I'm not sure about the word even satire, but the thing is that I draw what I see around me and I never thought of that as a particularly clever thing to do, but I thought it was a way that your drawings wouldn't date. So if you got the hair right, the clothes right and on people or whatever, then you wouldn't date.
Presenter
If I may say so, you yourself don't appear to have dated. I knew from my notes that you were born in nineteen thirty five, so you're eighty. You walked in here to day. If anybody had asked me, I would have said Topps, sixty two years old. You look very current.
Michael Heath
How can I answer that? I said, Yes, I'm wonderful. You know, I've got wonderful skin.
Presenter
I'm actually talking about what you're wearing. Oh, am I wearing? Oh, you're aware.
Michael Heath
Oh, by wearing. You're a sharp-dressed man. Well, that's a desperate attempt to seem young and tragic. Well, it's working. I haven't had a face-to-face. Not the tragic, but the younger.
Presenter
Well, it's working. I haven't had a face. Not the tragic video. No, no. So, what are we going to hear? And why have you chosen this track number one?
Michael Heath
I was working at nineteen fifty three training to be an animator in J. Arthur Rank's studios, and I wanted to be an animator, and I wanted to animate
Michael Heath
Things like Bambi, I suppose. Anyway, I was animating advertisements at 24 drawings per second of movement. Anyway, I hated it. And the man in charge of the place was an American, one-legged American gay man who chainsmoked. And he came into the studio one day and threw this record at me. It was a CEP, I think. And I took it home, put it on my dancer record player. And my hair, which I still have, as you're kind enough to say, it's not a wig, stood on end. I really was flipped, as they say. And I was, you know, boom, wow. And I thought the lonesome smoke was the greatest thing I'd ever heard in my life. And I had heard lots of music.
Speaker 4
Yeah.
Presenter
Chris Cross played by Lonius Monk on piano with Art Blakey, Milt Jackson, Al McKibben and Sahib Sheehab. Um you said, Michael Heath, that that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up on end when you heard does it still?
Michael Heath
Well, I played him pretty well every day since then. Having heard The Lonius Monk, I loved it so much that I thought I'd draw like that. And I thought that I could do that somehow, keep the drawings fresh. And remember, the track then lasted three minutes, so you were in and out of the record. Later on, it became LPs and they went on forever, and jazz became boring, and then became avant-garde jazz, which sounded like fire in a pet shop music. And I liked the wit of The Lonius Monk and the speed of which they played, and we were all
Michael Heath
Hopelessly, terrifically professional and amazingly, you could not copy him. And I thought that was something.
Presenter
Is it your aim when they look at a piece of of one of your cartoons is it your aim to make them laugh out loud and move on swiftly, or do you want them to smile and think?
Michael Heath
I want to buy it. Uh I have no idea. Other than the fact that I have a morbid fear of um boring everyone witless and uh hopefully um they will get the joke.
Presenter
Pretty recently, twenty fifteen, there was the appalling incident in the French satirical magazine Charlie Ebdo. Twelve people were killed, targeted because of the cartoons that were being drawn by the magazine depicting the Prophet Muhammad. How much do you think cartoonists should be concerned about offending people's sensibilities?
Michael Heath
Well, there's a limit what you can do. I mean now if you can't draw them.
Michael Heath
Certain things, and you can be killed by it. I mean, it adds a certain frision to your drawing. However, I'm not that sort of cartoonist. I try to keep you amused, like laughing or telling jokes in the air raid shelter.
Presenter
Are there, for example, areas that you would not stray into? You'd think I don't want to cover this or that with my drawings? Are there things you've been told not to cover because they might offend people?
Michael Heath
Don't
Michael Heath
No, there are cut inists, not necessarily guys who want to be funny, but the idea is you should upset people. The whole thing about
Michael Heath
say political cartooners is they should be so outrageous that everyone but you know questions in the house about the drawing yesterday in the Guardian or whatever. That was not my thing. I'm copped out. I wanted to be what I am. Funny is now dangerous and uh you've got to be careful what you do because there are whole groups of people who take offence all the time and look to take offence, who wish to take offence, and they take offence at whatever you do.
Presenter
So then are you careful not to do it?
Michael Heath
No, I do it. I I really do it, but they don't get it, so it doesn't matter.
Presenter
Let's have some more music. Michael Heath, tell me about your second one. What are we going to hear?
Michael Heath
He starts at the Infidels, Bad Pal, another brilliant pianist, technically terrific and amazing and mad, unfortunately, and driven that way by heroin, as most of them were at that period. I saw him once. I went to Paris and saw him. And he sat in front of the c piano and didn't move, didn't move at all, didn't play.
Presenter
Ooh.
Michael Heath
There's a bass player at a drummer and they pulled down a light over him and turned it on and off and he started playing. If you're depressed or feeling sad or whatever it is, or I put him on, but Powell has a and it killed him doing that. I mean the guys who did this sort of thing invariably blew themselves away, let alone us.
Michael Heath
These people inspired me to um carry on showing out drawing. But I'm a hack. I mean, there's no other way for it. I'm uh just a hack cartoonist who happens to uh still be alive in a world which cartooning is um in dire straits, I think.
Presenter
That was Dance of the Infidels, played by Bud Powell, accompanied there by Percy Heath and Kenny Clark. So Michael Heath, you were born in London, unlikely as it may seem in 1935. What are your earliest childhood memories?
Michael Heath
Mine's sort of blank up until uh the war starts, really. I can't remember much about it, though we did live.
Michael Heath
In Hampstead, round Museum Street, and um I was a Londoner born in the sound of both bells, what are you supposed to do?
Presenter
And your dad, as you were mentioning, your dad was an illustrator.
Michael Heath
Yeah, my father's upstairs chewing the furniture because he doesn't like drawing cowboys and Indians, even though he's brilliant at it. And my mother was a mother, a mother of 1939. My mother was a dear soul, and so was my father. But I had no relationship with my parents at all, and that was normal, I gather. I mean, my father did not hug me, we did not high five, and we did not get together and go out together and laugh like drains watching whatever football. I was sort of thrown out of the house at eight in the morning and told to come back at six, and that's the way it was.
Presenter
And can you tell me more about your mother? You say she was a typical mother of, you know, of the time.
Michael Heath
I'd played the piano at ragtime, and I thought that was lovely, and I just
Presenter
And did she draw two?
Michael Heath
I mean she did a few drawings for Picture Goer and uh stopped and never drew again except to tr card for somebody and things like that. No, she didn't do it.
Michael Heath
But the house was full of pictures and you know the prints of Van Gogh and things like that. And my father was an intellectual. Intellectuals, as we were living in Hampstead at that time, were all communists, Stalinists, and all hated Churchill, which seemed a bit odd to me, but I didn't question it. But living in Hampstead, one came across all these intellectuals, and that means tweed suits and open-toed sandals and a beard and a pipe. My father was in charge of the National Fire Service, which meant that he had to gather enough people, locals, around his neighbours, to put out incendiary bombs that were dropped.
Presenter
And you used to help him with that, didn't you?
Michael Heath
I did, yes indeed. The sentimentary bombs were often dropped too low and didn't blow up and were just lying around all over Hampstead Heath. And I was asked if I'd help out and load them up in a pub at the bottom of Downtry Hill. And they were piled up like milk bottles. And I used to go out and collect all these things and carry them like milk bottles. And I remember an old lady seeing me and fainting. I thought that was very funny. Then I got to the bottom of the road and they'd pile them up. No health and safety didn't come into it. Early war years to me, I had some friends and all the rest of it. It was unfortunately, it sounds awful, but it seemed fun.
Presenter
It's time for some more music. Tell me about your third. What are we going to hear now?
Michael Heath
Well, poor things out there, we've heard some jazz, they're probably lying down or whatever it is, and don't want to hear any more jazz ever again. So I'm playing what you might like a little better. It's the Teddy Bears Picnic. I said I didn't particularly talk to my parents and they not to me. And we didn't celebrate birthdays or Christmas or anything like that or give presents to each other. But I had a friend all the time in the background, and that was the BBC. The BBC radio was going on all the time. And Lord Wreath saw to it very brilliantly, I thought, is that he'd have a comedy programme and he'd follow it with Beethoven's Fifth or whatever, children's programmes, which I used to hear occasionally. I thought it was brilliant.
Speaker 4
If you go down in the woods today, you're sure of a big surprise. If you go down in the woods today, you'd better go in disguise. For every bear that ever there was will gather there for certain, because today's the day the teddy bears have their pee.
Presenter
That was Teddy Bear's Picnic, performed by Val Rosen with Henry Hall and his orchestra. You were laughing, was it ruefully throughout that?
Michael Heath
Yeah.
Michael Heath
Performed by
Michael Heath
Well, I was just thinking about that I suppose there were uh the children it was aimed at were of age between whatever it was, three and eight. Wouldn't be the same children as they are now.
Presenter
You said no Christmas presents, no birthday presents. I mean, your father was earning a living. Was that part of the sort of communist ethos that, you know, don't don't
Michael Heath
That
Michael Heath
I don't think he gave the same present to my mother every year, but didn't cheer her up. He gave her a little bottle of violet perfume, which she said was disgusting. And he never varied that. And what presents I was given at that time, perhaps a teddy or something like that, or an old train, they were taken away from me and given to the people next door or something who'd been bombed out. Or indeed I didn't know my birthday or at what date it was on. I once, at a school I was in for five minutes, invited a lot of kids in the school that I was in the classroom with.
Michael Heath
I said that my birthday was on such and such a date and they must turn up with presents or something. Anyway, they turned up and it wasn't my birthday and they were sent away. And
Michael Heath
Uh
Michael Heath
I hid behind the settees. I'm in
Presenter
It's tragic comic, that story. I mean, you're laughing, I want to sort of shed a tear about it.
Michael Heath
Yeah, the tears of a cloud. Yes, I can see that. Yes, it's ghastly. But of course, it may be the.
Presenter
Well, is it not a bit ghastly? It sounds a bit ghastly.
Michael Heath
Is it
Presenter
You've mentioned that your dad was an ARP warden in Hampstead. You had.
Michael Heath
Yeah.
Presenter
During the war, also been sent for a time to Devon, where your grandmother lived, because it was meant to be safer there. How did that go?
Michael Heath
How did that go? I was evacuated. I mean, not in the colourful way of standing around with a box with a gas mask in it, and I was at Waterloo Station or whatever it was. And I went to stay with my grandmother. I was um on the beach one day. It did on the beach is very difficult because they covered it on scaffolding and laid bombs all over the rather place.
Presenter
This was in Devon.
Michael Heath
Yeah, it's a place called Torcross.
Presenter
Yeah.
Michael Heath
I climbed through the scaffolding and barbed wire. It was a lovely day. And I sat there on the beach and there were a few people around me, and a couple of soldiers. And they saw the aeroplanes coming towards us. And they said, Ah, they're two of ours and I said, Wee, like that they separated and machine gunned us all and cannon fired us all and I didn't know anything other than to run, so I got up and ran and climbed through the barbed wire and the scaffolding. And all this noise around, I couldn't figure out what it was like, and it was shrapnel. And you know, they'd bombed the place, and it was considered more dangerous to be in Devon than it was to be in London, so I came back to London.
Presenter
Tell me about your next piece of music, Michael Heath. We're on your fourth of the day.
Michael Heath
Oh, Max Miller. Max Miller. I in 1947 my father, for reasons never quite understood, dragged us all out of London and took us to live in Brighton. We stayed there. Now Brighton in 1947 was pretty well exactly as it is in Graham Green, Brighton Rock, and it was absolutely the most fantastic thing.
Michael Heath
And the whole town was like a frontier town. I mean it's just outrageous full of criminals on the run from the police. Nowadays you get away from the police, you go to Rio or something. In those days they got trained Victoria and went to Brighton for fifteen shillings or something. Return. And I would take to this club and I met all these criminals and strange men and odd women.
Presenter
Let's hear it.
Speaker 4
And there was a fella running down the street in his shirt.
Speaker 4
I told him he on, a little tiny shirt running down the street. I said, where are you going? He said, home. Here. Here.
Speaker 4
Here's the song that goes with it, I never slept a wink all night.
Speaker 4
I once stayed in a swell hotel, the chambermaid was really
Presenter
That was Max Miller at the Finnsbury Park Empire in 1942. Max in an air raid, and I never slept a wink all night. Michael Heath, you were mentioning there that your father, for, as you say, unknown reasons, took the family to Brighton in 1947. So much of your work is filled with this brilliant, luxurious detail, the small bits of life. If you were to pen a little cartoon snapshot of life in Brighton at that time, in the, let's say, the early 50s, what would be in it?
Speaker 4
Nice.
Michael Heath
Uh
Michael Heath
With a mixture of people, the criminals and the things that they did to each other and
Michael Heath
I mean, I got a job in not a job, but I sort of th in the club. There was a billiard hall upstairs and they gave me
Michael Heath
shilling to go out and get them sandwiches'cause often they go into mammoth card games which would last twenty four hours and um every now and then they'd beat someone up.
Presenter
You you ended up at art school and you am I right, you did loath every minute of it.
Michael Heath
Nobody did any work. I mean, they just sat around talking about Jide or something. And I wanted to go out and I wanted to freelance and I did it there. I mean, I was freelancing there, and I sold my first drawing to Melody Maker magazine, which is my jazz thing, a jazz magazine, a very good one. And I sent them some drawings, and I sold them straight away. I was very I got two guineas.
Michael Heath
I I didn't do captions then, I just did amusing drawings or Christmas cards or something like that. Or indeed, there was a funny office in London.
Michael Heath
For Deco Records when the LP first came out, and you would sit in a room and a guy would open a hole in the wall and say, Debussy, anyone know anything about Debussy? Do a cover, ten pounds. And I said, Jazz, anyone know anything about Jazz? I'll do so. Okay, ten pounds, here he is, do it. Quite a good living, actually.
Presenter
I mean that's not that.
Michael Heath
Well, it could yes, I it was a good living, I mean, and and that's very good. And then I eventually ended up in a magaz newspaper that everyone's forgotten about, the Woman's Sunday Mirror, and I did a strip called Nelly Know All, Never Throw Anything Out, Make Do and Mend. And you know, don't throw those old socks away, dye them and then hang them up for Christmas or eat them, boiled.
Michael Heath
And I got ten pounds, ten shillings for that.
Presenter
Let's fit in some more music, Michael Heath. Tell me what we're going to hear now. This is your fifth track of the morning. Jack Buchanan.
Michael Heath
Not jazz? Honestly, I swear to God out there that you're probably leaving the room, but it's not jazz, I said you. Um Jack Buchanan, I suppose, is Britain's answer to Fridestair.
Michael Heath
And these are pre electric recordings that I've been listening to and I this one is one too. And they have to project themselves, you know, they have to sell a song and all the rest of it. It it's relentlessly
Michael Heath
Cheerful and
Michael Heath
It's about travelling, for God's sake. Well, I mean, travelling now is horrendous, but this is about travelling and travelling in nineteen thirty
Michael Heath
I was 29. It was obviously, you know, about three people going to Paris, like for three quid or something like that, and or sitting in one aeroplane and being given cocktails. And it has that.
Michael Heath
Boom, George V thing, like Cheerful Charlie Chaplin or whatever, or uh someone who wishes to
Michael Heath
entertain you or not go
Presenter
Let's hear it, shall we?
Michael Heath
Mm.
Presenter
Mm.
Speaker 4
I've been a while away from bank to Mandalay. No buses ever ran for me. And I have crossed the line and roamed the wide world over. And I have even seen down under and Andover. And I have found the milk of humankind too, way back in Buffalo and town.
Michael Heath
Right, well nobody
Speaker 4
Yeah.
Speaker 4
You take a step, I take a step.
Michael Heath
I
Speaker 4
Keep on and gone.
Presenter
Take a step. Jack Buchanan with the Shaftesbury Theatre Orchestra, directed there by Thomas Tunbridge. You were well embedded into Fleet Street Michael Heath by the 1960s, working for Punch, The Spectator, Private Eye, and so on. You were also part of a rather is Loosh a good word? That soho drinking crowd. You know, people like Geoffrey Bernard and Lucian Freud and Francis Bacon. Yes, are you still? A little bit.
Michael Heath
Yeah.
Michael Heath
Yeah.
Michael Heath
Must be a little bit of a message.
Michael Heath
Are you are you still?
Michael Heath
Well, I can't do the drinking I drank, or drank the drink I was drinking, whatever it is. As I'd been in Brighton and I met all these strange people, odd balls, as you would call them, and I'm in Soho, I came across or was introduced to Geoffrey Bernard, who's outrageous and a wonderful writer for The Spectator. And I got on extremely well with him, although he was outrageously rude, and so were all his friends. But they were all witty and amusing and clever. They all were brilliant painters, Francis Bacon, for instance, and Lucian Freud, and all these other strange people. All of them had one thing in common. On the whole, they had something that you wanted to hear or pick up from. And no one was allowed to boast, and you mustn't dog about money you'd earned, or whatever it is, or a drawing, anything like that. You just sat down and stood and.
Michael Heath
listened to what they had to say, and it was I mean, just um, boom I thought it was the most amazing thing in the world. Process Baker was the most frightening man I've ever come across. I thought it was terrific.
Presenter
Yes, you once said it was like drinking with panthers.
Michael Heath
Why yeah, I'm not sure you should say that on that, but the thing is yes
Presenter
Did did you bother to wonder where the sort of self-destructiveness and the the general destructiveness of that group of people came from? Because it sounds like a very visceral environment.
Michael Heath
Well, uh for a start the pubs closed at two and then you went up to the colony room after drinking in the French or coach and horses in Soho and then went back to the Hub
Presenter
And it was whiskey, was the drink of choice?
Michael Heath
Whiskey was the thing then, yeah. We drank well, vodka or whisky, yeah, lots of it. You start the day with Geoffrey Bernard, perhaps, in the coach and horses.
Presenter
What what sort of time?
Michael Heath
Well, eleven.
Presenter
Hmm.
Michael Heath
And Jeffrey would be coughing something dreadful'cause he's smoking fifty
Michael Heath
Senior service a day, and all the rest of it, and drinking, God knows what.
Presenter
If you were in the pub at eleven, when were you doing the cartooning? When were you doing the drawing?
Michael Heath
When I was drinking both.
Presenter
So you could you could be productive if you
Michael Heath
I could drink and uh draw on.
Presenter
That's something of a problem, isn't it, if one is still able to do one's work.
Michael Heath
So I thought it was rather good. I mean, after all, you draw fearlessly when you're drunk, or half drunk, and then it sort of gives you a sort of whiz.
Presenter
You designed the set for Keith Waterhouse's play, Jeffrey Barnard, is unwell. I mean, that was a a terrific and huge hit. And as you say, he was doing this weekly column called Low Life, the Spectator, which Jonathan Meads, the cultural commentator, once said was a suicide note in weekly instalments. Right. Yes. Does that seem about right, by your estimation?
Michael Heath
Yeah.
Michael Heath
Yeah.
Michael Heath
Correct.
Michael Heath
I was accused of not having, as Geoffrey would say, guts. You caught no guts. Guts meant drinking.
Michael Heath
Continually I'm in and not stopping.
Michael Heath
every day, all day, until he dropped or whatever. Serious drinking. I mean, I always said, you know, I made my excuses and left. I was a coward. I never went off. I went off to work. I never wanted to uh
Michael Heath
Die of it.
Presenter
Let's have some more music, Michael Heath. Tell me about what we're going to hear next. It's your sixth of the day.
Michael Heath
This is one of the many brilliant recordings that played by Bud Powell and it's all the things you are Jazz Massey Hall, Bud Powell, Max Roach and Charlie Parker. And why do you like it? Because you can't repeat it. Nobody else can do it. Nobody could do it. These men were so brilliant that they played anyone else off the stage as you couldn't play like any of them.
Presenter
All the things you are. Dizzy Gillespie, Charles Mingus, Charlie Parker, Bud Powell and Max Roach there. Michael Heath, you once did a a marvellous cartoon of a man at a bar saying to a woman he's chatting up, Do I know you from somewhere? and she says we were married for five years.
Michael Heath
Yes. Oh god, there was lots of them. Yes. Did jokes about marriage and all the rest of it. And I did this for Guardian of all things. Yes, it was the
Presenter
Yeah.
Presenter
Yes, it was the early eighties. You had that cartoon strip called Love Old. Oh God, yeah. To say it was darkly humorous doesn't really count. Well, I doubt it. Yes, it was a bit bitter and twisted, wasn't it?
Michael Heath
Oh god, yeah.
Michael Heath
Well I think it's a good idea.
Michael Heath
Would it be fair to conclude that you are not a romantic?
Michael Heath
I'm the most romantic man you ever met in your life. Is that true? I'm completely soppy. Absolutely, completely, absolutely, certifiably mentally soppy. If you show me d bambi, I'm on the floor sobbing. I I I dumbo.
Presenter
I don't know if you're toying with me now.
Michael Heath
Is this true?
Presenter
But
Michael Heath
Are you remembering that?
Presenter
And so you've been married twice?
Michael Heath
Yes, indeed. Twice. Long time. Well, yeah, but I mean, now it's heroic. I mean, a long time. I've been married in twenty four years first one, I think, in eighteen years the other one, and one in the middle I didn't marry.
Presenter
So long marriages when you said you're a romantic, you've said you're neurotic, did work t tend to always take precedence?
Michael Heath
I've got to be careful, I apris thing is that first of all, women may become attracted to you because you make them laugh and they say, Oh, I love his drawings. I do little drawings for them. And then you get married to them. Editor says, I want this drawing by five, and you've got to do it by five. And they say, I thought we were going out. I thought we were going to the theatre or cinema or whatever it is. And I say, I've got to do this drawing, get it in. Well, why don't you ring the editor up and say, You haven't got time, you're going out.
Presenter
Uh
Speaker 4
Raw.
Michael Heath
That doesn't seem the
Presenter
That doesn't seem the most unreasonable idea.
Michael Heath
Well, yeah.
Michael Heath
No, but I mean, there are three people that are married with a cartoonist. The cartoonists are not funny necessarily, you know, they're not giggling or laughing. I mean, they're
Michael Heath
the sad side of it, the depression side of it, because I don't think there's any f fun without you being depressed at the same time. You've got to know the difference between the two. I mean, depression is the adverse side of people giggling all the time.
Presenter
Of course, everybody is familiar with the idea that we have professional obligations, but for everybody, there's a choice to be made. You might say, well, actually, today is the day that I do phone the editor and say.
Michael Heath
Yeah, I I mean, you know, I I'm I was driven, darling. You know, if I was a composer or if I was Shostakovich or whatever, um I mean everyone would allow me to go up there and hammer away and uh conduct a huge orchestra and miss dates and God knows what else and like that and they would naturally assume that that came first and you were the greatest composer of all time or uh conductor.
Michael Heath
Or a great artist, for instance. Art and me, I mean, you know, I'm not an artist, I'm a cartoonist, and I'm rather angry about that, because if I played my cards right, I wouldn't have to think of these damned ideas all the time, because every day it's like going in for a competition and having a win. If I'd become a contemporary British artist, I wouldn't have had to do anything. So you took a blank canvas up and then rude word in neon written backwards. In other words, it's stunning.
Presenter
I get the feeling that Michael Heath on contemporary art might be a whole new series, but I don't think we have time for it yet.
Michael Heath
Yeah.
Michael Heath
But I don't think we have time.
Michael Heath
I admire them. You go you understand. I don't go and laugh or sneer at them. I wish I was one.
Presenter
Tell me about your next piece of music. We're on your seventh, Michael Heath.
Michael Heath
Funny face for the stare at his sister.
Michael Heath
It's rather like Jack Buchanan and we're recorded at much the same time and you had to shout into a tube to get yourself heard on an old shelleck record. And that adds to me something about it. It's like you've got no chance of retakes or anything like that. You've got to do it in three minutes and out. And Freder Stair is full of beans and excitement and I defy you not to feel happier after you've heard Funnyface.
Speaker 3
From having you around Though you're no glorious Swanson, For worlds I'd not replace That's funny, funny face
Speaker 4
Please and tell me that I'm not so pretty, dear When my looking glass and I agree In the contest at Atlantic City, dear It's a miracle I
Presenter
That was Funny Face by George and Ida Gershwin sung there by Fredna Dela Stair with Julian Jones and his orchestra.
Presenter
Michael Heath, I I I'm hesitant to call it a body of work, and yet it is. And I'm only hesitant because you yourself have said, Well, I'm just a hack cartoonist who happens to be alive, which is to rather underplay the whole thing.
Michael Heath
There's no other way in working for newspapers other than working at great speed and or also magazines. So you had to be on the ball and know what you were doing. And that's
Presenter
Do you take time to go back and look at it? Do you leave through old stuff?
Michael Heath
No, I don't, other than the fact that I do like what I did, but I didn't like doing what I did it, and I don't like what I do now when I do it. But if I look at it six months from now, or six years from now, I think, my God, I wish I could draw like that now
Presenter
No.
Michael Heath
Yeah.
Presenter
Cartooning, of course, has always relied on print as a medium. It is now a declining medium. Do you think there is a danger that as print as a medium declines, we will see the decline of of cartoonists?
Michael Heath
Cartoonists. Yeah, I mean that it is true because you can if you want to save money you can get rid of cartoonists quite easily because they never come out of their hole in the wall. They stay at home and turn it out and their wives are saying, What are you doing, you boring so and so on But the fact is that um there are no cartoons in newspapers as there once were. The only cartooning that exists healthily is political cartoonists and uh all the b broadsheets have a political cartoonist.
Presenter
You go into the office five days a week, is that right? At the spectator?
Michael Heath
Yeah, I did work at home. I wouldn't recommend it.
Presenter
Why do you go into the office now? What is it about that in is that a creative environment? Is it contact with other people that's sticking out?
Michael Heath
But I come across other people who are alive and chatty and all the rest of it, and I pick up on things very quickly. Also, it stimulates me, and going to work stimulates me. It makes me very angry being on the underground and being with rude people, but that's the name of the game. I say, Okay, I put it in a drawing, you know, I mean I get my own back.
Presenter
It sounds to me like you might actually quite like being alone on an island. Because, of course, I'm going to cast you away today. Do you quite like the idea?
Michael Heath
I quite like it, I guess, because, you know, I'm used to being on my own, and when you're divorced you're living in horrible rooms and the rest of it, and I have a friend.
Michael Heath
A dog has been with me all the time. Charlie, Charlie Parker, can I take the dog on the desert island? This we will come to in a second.
Presenter
But first, tell me about your final piece of music. What are we going to hear now? What's your eighth track?
Michael Heath
We got some more jazz here. That's Charlie Parker. That's my dog. And uh I just love this record. There are thousands of tracks that I'd love to have played and bored you rigid with, but I love this one and uh it's Lover by Charlie Parker.
Presenter
Thank you.
Presenter
That was Lover, played by Charlie Parker, composed by Richard Rogers and Lorenz Hart. It comes to the point, Michael Heath, when I give you some books, you get the Bible and the complete works of Shakespeare, and you get to take one other book along with them. What's your book going to be?
Michael Heath
Die of a nobody, it was serialized in punch, turn of the century.
Michael Heath
It's about a family lived in Clapham or somewhere, and it's hysterical, and it hasn't aged at all.
Presenter
As an
Presenter
We'll give that
Michael Heath
A tube
Presenter
Then, and a luxury too. What would your luxury be?
Michael Heath
Two
Presenter
B.
Michael Heath
I'd have a painting kit, so I could learn to paint properly, and I'd have a critic fly over and then review it. It's a stunning drawing, first painting the colour in the corner and the neon sign written backwards saying bum.
Presenter
Right.
Michael Heath
Uh and then I'd be a real artist and I'd I'd I'd I would dig my own grave and uh
Michael Heath
and nicely at sea buried at sea.
Presenter
Right.
Presenter
We'll give you that then. And which one disk of the ace would you save if you had to save one?
Presenter
Yeah.
Michael Heath
Chrisscross, the first one, the learnest monk.
Presenter
We shall give you crisscross. Michael Heath, thank you very much for letting us hear your desert island discs.
Michael Heath
Terrific. I'm now off to go and do a gag about God knows what. I haven't the foggest idea, but it's about something. Good luck with that.
Michael Heath
Toodle pip
Presenter
You've been listening to a download from the BBC. You'll find more information on the Radio 4 website: bbc.co.uk slash Radio 4.
What are your earliest childhood memories?
Mine's sort of blank up until uh the war starts, really. I can't remember much about it, though we did live. In Hampstead, round Museum Street, and um I was a Londoner born in the sound of both bells, what are you supposed to do?
Presenter asks
During the war you were also sent for a time to Devon, where your grandmother lived, because it was meant to be safer there. How did that go?
How did that go? I was evacuated. I mean, not in the colourful way of standing around with a box with a gas mask in it, and I was at Waterloo Station or whatever it was. And I went to stay with my grandmother. I was um on the beach one day. It did on the beach is very difficult because they covered it on scaffolding and laid bombs all over the rather place. … I climbed through the scaffolding and barbed wire. It was a lovely day. And I sat there on the beach and there were a few people around me, and a couple of soldiers. And they saw the aeroplanes coming towards us. And they said, Ah, they're two of ours and I said, Wee, like that they separated and machine gunned us all and cannon fired us all and I didn't know anything other than to run, so I got up and ran and climbed through the barbed wire and the scaffolding. And all this noise around, I couldn't figure out what it was like, and it was shrapnel. And you know, they'd bombed the place, and it was considered more dangerous to be in Devon than it was to be in London, so I came back to London.
Presenter asks
So much of your work is filled with this brilliant, luxurious detail, the small bits of life. If you were to pen a little cartoon snapshot of life in Brighton at that time, in the early 50s, what would be in it?
With a mixture of people, the criminals and the things that they did to each other and I mean, I got a job in not a job, but I sort of th in the club. There was a billiard hall upstairs and they gave me shilling to go out and get them sandwiches'cause often they go into mammoth card games which would last twenty four hours and um every now and then they'd beat someone up.
Presenter asks
When you said you're a romantic, you've said you're neurotic — did work tend to always take precedence?
I've got to be careful, I apris thing is that first of all, women may become attracted to you because you make them laugh and they say, Oh, I love his drawings. I do little drawings for them. And then you get married to them. Editor says, I want this drawing by five, and you've got to do it by five. And they say, I thought we were going out. I thought we were going to the theatre or cinema or whatever it is. And I say, I've got to do this drawing, get it in. Well, why don't you ring the editor up and say, You haven't got time, you're going out. … But I mean, there are three people that are married with a cartoonist. The cartoonists are not funny necessarily, you know, they're not giggling or laughing. I mean, they're the sad side of it, the depression side of it, because I don't think there's any f fun without you being depressed at the same time. You've got to know the difference between the two. I mean, depression is the adverse side of people giggling all the time.
“The last thing I should have become was what I became, a cartoonist.”
“I had no relationship with my parents at all, and that was normal, I gather. I mean, my father did not hug me, we did not high five, and we did not get together and go out together and laugh like drains watching whatever football. I was sort of thrown out of the house at eight in the morning and told to come back at six, and that's the way it was.”
“Early war years to me, I had some friends and all the rest of it. It was unfortunately, it sounds awful, but it seemed fun.”
“I'm the most romantic man you ever met in your life. … I'm completely soppy. Absolutely, completely, absolutely, certifiably mentally soppy. If you show me d bambi, I'm on the floor sobbing. I I I dumbo.”
“If I'd become a contemporary British artist, I wouldn't have had to do anything. So you took a blank canvas up and then rude word in neon written backwards. In other words, it's stunning.”