Alf Wight’s face, especially in the earlier years of his success, may not have been known to many but, in 1973, just as the Herriot band-wagon was gaining momentum, his fame was to receive a boost which would ensure that his name would become familiar to millions more. A film based on his books was going to be made. This would be followed by a second one, and a television series which would be shown all over the world. James Herriot, the reluctant celebrity, was soon to become a star of the screen.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
‘You know Simon Ward, the actor who played young Winston Churchill in the film we saw recently?’ my father said to me one morning in 1973.
‘Yes,’ I replied.
‘Well, he’s going from strength to strength,’ he continued. ‘He’s going to play another famous person in his next role.’
‘Who’s that?’ I asked.
‘Me!’
Within six months of his first success in America, the idea of turning the best-selling books into a film became a reality. The film, called ‘All Creatures Great and Small’, was sponsored by Reader’s Digest and was made originally for American television. It was released in this country in the spring of 1975.
The idea of seeing himself and his friends portrayed on the big screen thrilled Alf. ‘Just think of all those famous stars performing mywork!’ he said. His feelings at the time were ones of pride mixed with incredulity. Apart from Simon Ward playing himself, Anthony Hopkins, who later was to become a major international star, played Siegfried, Brian Stirner was Tristan, while the part of Helen was taken by Lisa Harrow.
During the shooting of the film in 1974, we visited the film sets on several occasions to watch the actors at work. Alf felt a twinge of disappointment when he learnt that the chosen location was the North York Moors rather than the Yorkshire Dales, but this did little to dampen his excitement as he watched, almost disbelievingly, his past come to life before his eyes. He had no desire to become involved with the production of the film. He approved the scripts but declined to act as veterinary advisor – a job taken on by a colleague from York, George Sutherland.
Alf was especially delighted with the performance of Anthony Hopkins, who brought out the warm and effervescent nature of Siegfried perfectly. He thought that Simon Ward, too, was ideally cast as the slightly bemused young vet, pitched into the company of so many singular characters. He was intrigued by Lisa Harrow as she bore a marked resemblance to Joan in her younger years.
These were heady days, but unfortunately not everyone approved of the way they were depicted. After visiting the film set near Pickering with Alf, Brian and their wives, Donald Sinclair declared he was not happy about his portrayal. Never was the unpredictability of ‘Siegfried’ more vividly illustrated than at that time.
One morning, shortly after they had been up to watch the shooting of the film, I walked into the office at 23 Kirkgate to find my father seated, ashen-faced, at his desk. It was obvious that something had upset him deeply. He turned to look at me and his voice trembled as he spoke. ‘Donald is going to sue me, Jim!’
His words rendered me speechless for several moments. ‘Sue you? Why? What have you done?’
He stared out of the window as he often did when grappling with his feelings. ‘He does not approve of the way that he has been played in the film. I knew that he didn’t like the way that he came over in the books, but I never thought that it would come to this. After all we’ve been through together!’
I felt a surge of anger and disbelief. ‘I would give my right arm to be shown to the world as Siegfried Farnon,’ I retorted. ‘He is portrayed as a generous and warm individual, an interesting and fascinating man. His unpredictability shows up, but we all know that that is exactly what he is like!’
My father said nothing, but I was fired with indignation and continued to vent my feelings. ‘You have been a great friend and support to him for years, and he threatens to sueyou? And it’s no good his saying that the way he has been described is exaggerated, just ask any of the farmers round here! You have imder portrayed him if anything. If he tries to sue you, I’ll be the first to jump on the stand and give the real facts!’ My words tumbled over each other as I let him know exactly how I felt. Like my father, I have never been outwardly aggressive, but Donald’s threat infuriated me – especially as I had rather envied his being portrayed as he had been.
My father held up his hands. ‘Just calm down, will you, Jim? I’ve been thinking about this for some time. Why do you think that Donald is such a peerless character? I’ll tell you why – it’s because he doesn’t realise he is! It’s all very well everyone else having a good laugh at his extraordinary behaviour but he genuinely doesn’t believe that he is eccentric. I think perhaps he feels I’m making fun of him and it’s understandable that he’s upset. You know what he’s like, he changes his mind with the wind direction. It may all blow over so don’t say anything to him, all right?’
I realised that my father, who knew his partner as well as anyone, was probably quite right, but I had my final say. ‘Donald should feel proud to be associated with such a memorable character as Siegfried Farnon!’
This flare-up from Donald had been brewing for some time. Three or four years previously, when he had first set eyes on If Only They Could Talk, he had remained tight-lipped. This was in striking contrast to his brother’s reaction. Brian was delighted to be known as Tristan, and discussed his new role enthusiastically with Alf whenever they met, but in all the years that I knew Donald, I never once heard him speak about the books of James Herriot.
Alf did. The only time that he ever heard his partner refer to his work was when he said to him, one day after reading the first book, ‘Alfred! This book is a test of our friendship!’
This had upset Alf, but now his greatest fear had materialised – that his writing would not only hurt someone but that he would be taken to court over it. Even worse, it was one of his oldest friends who was raising objections.
I remember him saying to me at the time, ‘I have lain awake these last two nights wishing that I had never written the bloody books!’
The threat of legal action from Donald was a risk that the film company had had to take. At the outset, he had refused to sign a licence issued by the producers, Tallent Associates of New York, allowing them to ‘make any changes in, deletions from or additions to any account of my life and to fictionalise and dramatise the account as the producer may deem necessary’.
Brian had signed his disclaimer without a murmur but Donald had felt differently. In his opinion, it would give the producers a free hand to depict him in the film as they wished, and for a man who resented his part in the James Herriot phenomenon, his reluctance to sign is hardly surprising. He had been upset when the producers risked the consequences and had gone ahead without his agreement, but when he saw the portrayal of himself on the film set, his long-felt, simmering feelings of disapproval boiled over.
Alf acted quickly. He immediately telephoned not only Brian, but their sister, Elsa, who lived in the south of England. Having explained the situation, they both offered Alf their full support, agreeing that the depiction of their brother was not exaggerated in any way. Elsa was a great fan of the Herriot books and was so indignant that Donald was objecting to the character of Siegfried that she warned her brother forcibly that there would be dire consequences should he attempt to take the matter further. Whatever she said appeared to work and filming continued.