I'm Free!

1

Born to Perform

Some people, they say, are born to perform.

They have an innate desire to entertain others, stand in the spotlight and milk the applause for all it is worth. It's in their blood and seems to be pre-programmed into their DNA and, no matter what, they will make their dreams become reality by hook or by crook.

Their path to fame and (sometimes) fortune might be full of challenges, obstacles and hurdles, but they find a way, eventually, using a mixture of talent, the odd break here and there, a few white lies and, most of all, because they are driven to find that stage to perform on and that spotlight to stand in.

All of the above is true of Frederick John Inman, who was born on 28 June 1935, at 18 Garden Street, Preston, in Lancashire. It was a modest terraced family home, just a stone's throw away from the nearby Avenham Park and the River Ribble.

He was Frederick Inman and Mary Rawcliffe's first child - they would have another son, Geoffrey, a few years later - and he was born into a household of moderate income and occasional domestic abuse. In later years, John would say that his father was 'a drinking man who used to knock my mother about' - though understandably, he would never say much more than that.

His parents were both hairdressers - Frederick was a master hairdresser, no less. John's first few years in Preston were sometimes upsetting as his father took his own frustrations out every now and then on Mary, leaving their son to escape into his own world, one filled with sparkles and wonder.

The first inklings that the Inmans' first-born might have stars in his eyes came when he began to hold mini concerts in the back garden for friends and family, which would always be a mixture of song and dance. The applause at the end was all he needed to fuel his passion and by the age of 5, he had a number of characters that he had developed, including his showstopper, 'Bill'.

'He was always singing and dancing and inventing characters,' recalled his mother in 1976. 'One character was called Bill and he'd use his grandfather's walking cane, go behind the curtain and the door and make his entrance. He'd say, "Bill's here!" and then start to dance.'

John began his education at Cambridge House School, and it wasn't long before he'd found a new audience to entertain, inventing sketches with his friends as the Second World War progressed. Preston would escape largely unscathed from the Luftwaffe air raids, though the German bombers would pass high over the town on their way to military targets in Barrow-in-Furness some 70 miles north.

John and pal Peter Diamond would perform shows in Peter's garage at 214 Brockholes View, creating their own theatre among the various bric-a-brac that was stored there, including their own production of Cinderella. Years later, John would regale the story and add, 'And no - I wasn't Cinderella!'

Their first 'professional' show was at the New Victoria pub on Church Street in town, and it was perhaps here more than anywhere before that convinced John that his future lay in showbusiness.

He idolised movie star, dancer and entertainer Betty Grable and he had an innate talent to design and create glitzy dresses and costumes for his own performances, often inspired by Grable's Hollywood glamour. His mother encouraged his artistic leanings, even paying for him to take elocution lessons at a local church to give him a chance of perhaps winning less colloquial roles in the future - something few northern actors and entertainers ever quite seemed to shake off in their bid for national acclaim.

Like any family in Britain at the time, the Inmans suffered during the war with restrictions on movement and rationing causing them to reassess their lives and ambitions to give their sons the upbringing they wanted. So when the conflict ended in September 1945, Frederick and Mary decided they wanted something different. Their marriage had not been without its problems, but Mary was committed to her husband in spite of the beatings she would occasionally suffer.

The country was slowly recovering from almost seven years of conflict and continued shelling from the Nazis and there was a collective hunger and thirst to move forward and enjoy life again. Fortunately, the Inmans didn't have to look too far to find everything they wanted and more, and for 13-year-old John Inman, it was manna from heaven.

The family moved 17 miles west to Blackpool - a place they'd always loved and frequently visited - and bought a boarding house at 55 Banks Street in the seaside town. Conveniently located just a few hundred yards from Blackpool Talbot Road Railway Station, the Irish Sea was visible at the west end of Banks Street and with the promenade, beaches that stretched for miles and trams making for a bustling, vibrant spectacle.

But what thrilled and delighted the impressionable John more than anything was the fact that Blackpool was the entertainment capital of Britain, with its many theatres and concert halls attracting all the top acts of the era. And he would see them all, saving his pocket money to go and watch some of the biggest acts in vaudeville, soaking it all up with vociferous enthusiasm, none more so than his comedy idol Frank Randle, who was a huge star in the north of England and the man who, more than any other, inspired the teenager to follow his showbusiness dreams.

During an interview for US TV, John would later recall those heady days on the Fylde coast:

All the stars came to Blackpool and Frank Randle was the biggest draw of them all. People would queue for hours to see him. I'd go and see him for one and six in the stalls and he'd come on stage with his boots on the wrong feet and hold the audience in the palm of his hand for as long as he liked - and he succeeded by just being himself.

I saw things like Happidrome with Harry Korris, Cecil Frederick and Robbie Vincent and had been an avid listener to the show on the radio. They were a great trio and very popular who played to packed halls. They were also great favourites of mine.

A few years later there was a show on the North Pier called Lawrence Rides on With the Show featuring Albert Modley, and I went to see him do his act and he was another of my idols.

These were magical, intoxicating days for John.

Now attending Claremont School in Blackpool, he became involved in the theatrical productions and enjoyed creating props, sound effects and other aspects of backstage management. Commenting that one particular sound effect of a character falling in a river sounded more like a 'sugar lump dropping in a tea cup', John and friend Tommy DeVere found an old bathtub, filled it to the brim and then dropped a hefty boulder in as they recorded the splash, which also drenched the pair in the process.

'Now that's a body falling in water,' commented John, before turning to his pal and claiming, 'but you've ruined my make-up!'

His penchant for performing and his understanding of theatre meant that when any auditions were advertised - and he scoured for them in the local papers continually - he was well placed to go along and try his luck.

John Inman was no ordinary 13-year-old, and his effeminate voice, openly camp behaviour and light on his feet gait could easily have led to him being bullied by his contemporaries, but his ability to make others laugh was also his best protection and he was a well-liked schoolmate.

He had not been resident in Blackpool for more than a few months when he won a part in a play called Frieda at the South Pier Pavilion, playing the lead's son and immediately catching the eye with a mature and comedic performance beyond his years. The Jack Rose Repertory Company paid him the not insubstantial sum of £5 per week - the equivalent of £227 in 2024 - to appear in the play and the management were suitably impressed enough to give him part-time work as a general dogsbody, making tea, cleaning up, helping with props and sets after the run in the show ended, and he loved every minute of what was, in effect, his apprenticeship in showbusiness.

John would fill in roles here and there and be continually in and around the various productions, plays and shows, meeting actors, bringing them cups of tea and chatting to them about their craft and learning all the time. He could also watch their performances for free when he wasn't involved and was also now earning enough to pay admission for whatever entertainer he fancied seeing.

Blackpool was a thriving, energetic place to live with hundreds of thousands of tourists packing out the town's theatres, concert halls, hotels, boarding houses and bed and breakfasts during the spring and summer months, with the famous Blackpool Illuminations extending the holiday season well into the autumn.

At Claremont School, aged 14, he took on his first starring role in the production of Aladdin, playing the classic pantomime villain Widow Twankey in a costume designed by his own fair hands. His comical performance stole the show and he helped create a 'boy mangle' that he would turn and 'flatten' out schoolmates as they were sandwiched between two rollers, to the delight of the gathered parents, teachers and fellow pupils. It was his first public display as a pantomime dame and the reaction he received would lead to a love affair with panto that would last all his...