Peter Sallis looks back at Last of the Summer Wine, Wallace & Gromit and Orsen Welles

Jun 17 2009 by Haydon Wood, Liverpool Daily Post

Actor Peter Sallis’s one-man show charts a career acting with the greats of stage, screen and Plasticine, says Peter Elson

MOST character actors would give their eye-teeth for a successful series on screen that makes them a household name.

Peter Sallis can enjoy the fact that he has reached this peak twice. But not only that, at the splendid age of 88, both these series are still up and running.

Last of the Summer Wine, in which he stars as Norman Clegg, is nearing its 35th year and, after 30 series, is the world’s longest- running television comedy, with no signs of expiring yet.

The Wallace & Gromit animated films, in which Peter voices the mithering inventor Wallace, companion to the brainier mute canine Gromit, goes from strength to strength.

Both shows reinforce Britain’s national consciousness, confirming the belief that our eccentricity, whimsical humour and common-sense (with the odd lurch into irrationality) will somehow see us through.

Peter’s career, too, seems rooted in a particular kind of Englishness, whereby he has plugged away quietly and over the years triumphed through sheer dogged effort.

Now you will be able to hear him talk about his career in An Audience with Peter Sallis, at the Prescot Festival of Music and the Arts, on Tuesday evening.

He will be interviewed about his life and career, which includes more than a hundred films and television series since 1947, followed by a question and answer session.

In spite of macular degeneration (a deterioration of his eyesight which recently has limited his appearances in Summer Wine), he is enthusiastic about his one-man show.

“While I can get up in in the morning, I’ll do these things. One day, I won’t be able to. I’m quite keen on me and talking about my career and people I knew like Orson Welles,” he says.

Rescued by the war from working as a bank clerk, he became a radio instructor and got involved in amateur dramatics and play readings.

“The only other example I can think of is Michael Redgrave, who also worked in a bank and got involved in the firm’s amateur dramatics,” says Peter.

“He suddenly realised he was a far better actor than he was a cashier. But it takes a bit of courage to make the jump.

“I joined the RAF, but was not fit enough to fly and became a wireless mechanic and then taught radio procedures at RAF Cranwell.

“I was good at the theory, but could not solder for my life. I knew how the radio worked and could point at things to the class, performing in a way I suppose.

“We had a play-reading group which was great fun and chance to perform in Noel Coward’s Hay Fever at the local YWCA. Then I became pretty certain I could act. It’s an instinct or gift, you know if you can do it.

“The great film director and producer Alex Korda very magnanimously put up money for 10 scholarships at RADA for ex-service people after the war.

“I was lucky enough to get one, but my father still had to pay for my board.”

After that, his course was set and his first professional stage role was in 1946. He went on to work with acting legends such as Laurence Olivier, John Gielgud and Orson Welles. The latter became a good friend.

He also participated in another great British institution, performing in several Hammer Horror films, getting a stake through his heart for his efforts.

One of these, The Curse of the Werewolf, surprisingly signposted his part in the 2005 hit Wallace And Gromit film, Curse of the Were-Rabbit.

Contrary to the impression given by these best-known roles, Peter is not a northerner, but a Londoner.

It felt odd during my telephone conversation with him to hear his warm, fulsome tones without their northern inflection.

Our chat is enlivened with amusing interruptions from someone he refers to as “Mary, my minder”.

Among his West End appearances was with Orson Welles directing Rhinoceros, with Laurence Olivier, in 1960.

“I knew all about Welles and was a great follower. At the audition I went on stage and he was standing there.

“He was wearing his usual costume of a cape and carrying a large tumbler of amber liquid.

“He rumbled those familiar words, ‘I am Orson Welles’, and we just sort of clicked.

“I was able to do what he wanted and we became mates. We spent about five years working together, including in Paris.