FURTHER to an appeal to trace former magician/ conjurer Michael Skinner from his Youth Club Showtime days. Mr Ken Clark, of north Watford, recalls.

During the war, in a successful attempt to provide the youth of England with somewhere to spend their evenings, someone came up with the idea of opening Youth Clubs in all the local schools, much to the disgust of the caretakers who considered it an unwelcome imposition.

The first to open in Watford was at the Victoria School, closely followed by Callowland, Alexandria, Kingsway, Garston and Leggatts Way schools. We attended regularly to dance to the latest jazz and big band records.

The only time a reference to drugs came up was in conversations about the session bands playing into the early morning in far off London, nothing to do with us.

The dangers of smoking were unknown to us, it was simply a social function. An occasional bad tempered fight would break out at certain venues but they were rarely a problem.

Drink was seldom, if ever, a problem. The kids were there to enjoy themselves and they did it in comparative safety, air raids permitting. Perhaps it was the threat and the fear of sudden death that kept everyone in order?

At the time we were teenagers, my stage partner Beryl Smith and I were appearing on local amateur showbills as Merry and Mac, impressionists, cross talk and knockabout dancers. Raw beginners, we appeared wherever we could get a booking, this included hospitals at Christmas and in Armed Services on site theatres. Our partnership broke up just after a young magician/conjuror had accompanied us in a show, his name was Michael Skinner.

Mike belonged to both the Watford and the London Associations of Magicians (on February 11, 1946, at the age of 16 he was filmed performing his tricks in a Pathe Pictorial film magazine shown in all the cinemas).

Mike and I teamed up and during the war years. I joined him in his conjuring act and we also did a cross talk act after the manner of Flanagan and Allen. We both taught ourselves ventriloquism and juggling with clubs and rings.

There were a never-ending series of shows presented at every available hall, the Labour Club, church halls, etc even at Masonic functions, where local talent was given the opportunity to show off or get off. After one of these we teamed up with Ron Luckett, a talented impressionist to form "Ron, Mick and Ken The Complete Cabaret". On one occasion we were booked to appear at a nightclub in an alley basement alongside the old Watford Observer offices in the High Street, opposite the St Mary's churchyard opening alongside what was the Dolcis shoe shop.

The actor/proprietor was Kim Peacock, then currently being heard in a radio series as Paul Temple. We found we were on the bill with another struggling amateur, Terry Scott (later the TV husband of June Whitfield and of Carry On film fame).

We gathered around us the pick of the local acts including the tap dancing team The Howard Sisters (Thelma later became Terry Scott's first wife, writing his scripts for him); there was Alan Clark (no relation) billed as The Singing Schoolboy at one charity do, he broke into films London Town and Lisbon Story before touring with Emile Littler's opera Song of Norway; Les and Hazel Duncombe brother and sister piano-accordionists; Megan Griffiths, a charming Welsh vocalist; Joan Snell, tap and classical dancer; Alan Adams boogie-woogie pianist supreme who died prematurely at an early age; the Two Loose Screws Slick and Ernie, a cross talk duo and many more.

And never far way was Peter Eames and his Band, with Peter ever ready to launch into his impersonation of the film actress/singer Carmen Miranda, once seen never forgotten.

Talent competitions were popular. Tommy Dando, resident organist at the Gaumot Cinema held them, and we entered and won. Invited back as Dando's guest artists he paid up the princely sum of 10/6d (just over 50p). Not to be outdone, the Regal Cinema brought in Tony Gerrard to run their competition.

I could go on, but there is a point to this letter. Mike and I performed our acts all the time we were doing our National Service, and afterwards when we continued together. But doing free shows and the occasional paid gig began to pall, and Mike decided he was ready to become a professional. He left his job with MGM in Rickmansworth (now Scotsbridge Mill), travelling and performing the length and breadth of the country, often being mistaken for Ken Dodd who he resembled in face and in his ability to keep up a steady stream of nonstop gags for hours on end.

When he left Watford, I lost touch with him for over 50 years. Then one day, more in hope than expectation, on this page I asked for anyone who knew of his current whereabouts to contact me. Time passed, and I had almost given up hope, when someone gave Mike's sister the newspaper and she rang me. Mike came down from London and there was a joyful reunion, but sadly it was short lived. Michael Skinner died just before last Christmas, so this little reminder of days gone by is also written in memory of his great talent and our long friendship which began during those far off days of war.

June 7, 2002 12:30