It certainly wasn’t the job of a timid teen to make social interaction with someone as seemingly unapproachable as Mr Hawtrey.
My dad had warned me that it was best to stay well clear. He’d barely got a word out of the man. They were less than a year apart in age, yet my dad seemed decades younger. Hawtrey, to my fourteen year-old eye, had the presence and look of a man well past his lifespan.
But he was, without question, a comedy genius. His timing, movement and mere presence in a Carry On scene were enough to raise the neck hairs. He had come to acting as early in life after appearing on a series of recordings as a boy soprano.
Carry On scriptwriter Talbot 'Tolly' Rothwell never had a bad word to say about the latter day recluse. He once told me that Hawtrey had suffered the fate of many gay men of the day. He’d kept his sexuallity a secret and remained tied to his mother’s apron strings. He also had a tough time of it when she went on develop senile dementia.
His mother was known to horde toilet rolls, as Hawtrey was reported to have hoarded bed knobs for future profit. It was a difficult time to be gay and little is known of Hawtrey’s private life.
Once, Hawtrey caught me looking at him and smiled back. I remember feeling sad because his smile had been so full of gloom. It was almost as though the very soul of Hawtrey was trapped.
I liked him, there was a kinship and I could sense a softness. His movements were gentle and he was polite. But sad, very sad.
Charles Hawtrey passed away in 1988 and the age of 73. A strange, private and talented man. I remember him fondly.
Contact the author at editor@brighton.co.uk
