Lionel Bart

Today's subject was once richer than - and hang out with - the Beatles and the Stones. Then he was bankrupt. He wrote the most famous British musical and a number of monster hit songs, yet he's barely remembered today. Ladies and gentlemen, I'm happy to present Lionel Bart!

Lionel Bart was born Lionel Begleiter in 1930 to Jewish refugees in London’s East End, the youngest of seven siblings. The family were poor, but not destitute and music filled Lionel’s early life.

His mother Yetta sang him lullabies. He loved the Yiddish theatre, East End music halls, barrel organs and Salvation Army bands on the streets. Jewish Folk songs, Jazz, Blues and Irish reels all served as musical inspiration.

A physically unprepossessing child, short and skinny with sticking out ears and a beaky nose, Lionel compensated by entertaining his fellow urchins with his quick wit, making up rude lyrics to well-known songs.

‘Every audience for one of my shows represents, to me, an extension of that gang of kids in the East End,’ he once said.

When Lionel was six, his headmistress told his parents that their son was an ‘artistic genius’. He did not immediately fulfil her prediction: his screeching attempts to learn the violin were decidedly unsuccessful.

Then, at 16, he won a scholarship to the prestigious St Martin’s School of Art in the West End of London and became part of the hip Soho crowd.

In 1948, aged 18, he was called up for National Service with the RAF. On an outing from his airbase, he went to see David Lean’s film of Charles Dickens’ novel Oliver Twist. Turning to a friend, he said: ‘One day I’m going to write a musical based on that story and it will be better than any American musical.’

Back in London in 1950, he changed his surname to Bart — snappier, easier to spell on credits and less foreign-sounding — and found work at an East End theatre as a producer.

He also began writing songs,  earning 25 guineas for the first one published, Oh For A Cup Of Tea, which he blew on a celebratory party. For Lionel, success and excess went hand in hand.

At a Soho party he met the then 20-year-old, Tommy Hicks, whom he recommended to manager and music publisher Larry Parnes. Parnes signed him and renamed him Tommy Steele, thus creating Britain’s first Rock’N’Roll star. Bart wrote Rock With The Cavemen for Steele, which became his first hit, peaking at #13, in 1956.

The next Bart-Steele collaboration, Butterfingers (1957), peaked at #8.

A few months later, Handful Of Songs peaked at #5.

Their final successful collaboration, Little White Bull (1959), reached #6 on the UK charts.

In 1958, Lionel discovered Harry Webb, a Bambi-faced teenager, who was renamed Cliff Richard, in the 2Is, a Soho club.

He recruited Cliff and his band, The Drifters (later The Shadows), to sing three of the songs he had written for a forthcoming film. One of them was Living Doll. Lionel wrote it in ten minutes and it became the most popular song that he ever wrote. It has topped the UK charts twice; in its original version in 1959 (Cliff's first #1 single) and a new version recorded in 1986 in aid of Comic Relief. It was also Cliff's first hit in the US, peaking at #30. The 1959 version sold a total of 1.86 million copies, while the 1986 version sold a total of 1.50 million copies. Not bad at all.

In 1960, Bart gave Anthony Newley his song Do You Mind? and Newley took it all the way to the top of the UK charts.

In the US, Andy Williams had a #70 hit with the song:

In 1961 Jack Jones covered Bart's Big Time:

Also in 1961, another Pop idol in the UK at the time, Adam Faith, had a #12 UK hit with Easy Going Me.

In 1962, Russ Conway had a #33 hit with Always You And Me.

Lionel Bart also had the distinction of writing the first James Bond song ever: From Russia With Love, sung by Matt Monro, made #20 in the UK and established one of the most cherished institutions, which is still very active today: the Bond song.

During this period, Lionel Bart won nine Ivor Novello Awards. Three in 1957, a further four in 1958, and two in 1960. Not bad for someone who had never learned to read or write music — he sang into a tape recorder for someone else to transcribe — and had no formal musical training. 

Despite his chart success, he yearned to have his songs performed in the theatre. His first professional musical was 1959's Lock Up Your Daughters, based on the 18th-century play Rape Upon Rape, by Henry Fielding.

His break came, however, at the Stratford Theatre in East London, writing songs for a play called Fings Ain’t What They Used T’Be. It was a Cockney comedy. Lionel turned it into a musical. It opened in Stratford in February 1959 and was an immediate hit, transferring after a year to the West End. Princess Margaret and the Queen both saw it, despite its risque scenes and dialogue.

The Lord Chamberlain, who was in charge of censorship, wrote a letter demanding: ‘The builder’s labourer is not to carry the plank of wood in the erotic place and at the erotic angle that he does, and the Lord Chamberlain wishes to be informed of the manner in which the plank is in future to be carried.’ It was ignored.

In 1959, Lionel began work on the songs and story for what would become his masterpiece, Oliver!. But to his dismay, no theatre would touch it because, with its tale of orphans and poverty, it was considered too ‘downbeat’.

Eventually, one producer agreed to stage it on a shoestring budget. Despite promising preview performances, on its first night in the West End Lionel sat rigid with fear in the audience. Petrified that it would be a flop, he bolted out of the theatre. After pacing the streets for more than an hour, he made his way back. As he approached the theatre, he heard a rumbling noise. Fearing that the audience was rioting in disgust, he turned to run. But the producer grabbed him and dragged him on to the stage. The audience were on their feet, clapping deafeningly. There had been 23 curtain calls. The reviews were ecstatic. The show ran for six years, then a record for a British musical.

Among the actors that appeared as The Artful Dodger were future rock stars Steve Marriott (later the lead singer of The Small Faces and Humble Pie), Davy Jones (pre-Monkees) and Phil Collins (of Genesis fame).

Overnight, Lionel became phenomenally wealthy. At one point, his song-writing earned him as  much in a minute as most people earned in a week. He spent his new riches freely, drenching himself in his favourite Guerlain perfume, wearing sharply tailored suits and patent leather boots with Cuban heels. He had his beaky, broken nose fixed.

He collected cars: a Mercedes-Benz convertible with a built-in telephone (this was in the Sixties!), Riley Pathfinder, Bentley Continental and, most exclusive of all, Facel Vega, the fastest, and coolest, four-seater sports coupe in the world.

Lionel mixed with old showbiz: Judy Garland and Noel Coward became good friends. And new: The Beatles, the Stones, Michael Caine and Terence Stamp.

For years, his social escort was popular singer Alma Cogan, to which he proposed (socially convenient) marriage. She declined.

Here's Cogan's 1955 #1 hit Dreamboat:

Oliver! transferred to Broadway in 1963 to tremendous acclaim. In 1968 Oliver! was made into a film starring Ron Moody, Oliver Reed and Shani Wallis which won six Oscars, including best film. Being one of my favorite musicals of all-time, we'll certainly get to hear a lot of songs from it. First, here's Food, Glorious Food:

Then came the title track:

Where Is Love? was covered by dozens of artists. Here's Johnny Mathis in 1964:

... And here's the film version, featuring an absolutely adorable Mark Lester:

One of the films highlights, thanks to Oscar-nominated Jack Wild, was Consider Yourself:

You've Got to Pick a Pocket or Two showcased the talents of Oscar-nominated Ron Moody:

It's a Fine Life was Shani Wallis' turn to shine:

I'd Do Anything is a great ensemble effort:

Be Back Soon is another Ron Moody/Fagin great number:

My favorite one, as a song as well as as a visual feast, is Who Will Buy:

As Long as He Needs Me was another great moment for Shani Wallis/Nancy:

This song was also covered by dozens of artists, most notably by Dame Shirley Bassey, who had a huge hit with it on the UK Charts. It peaked at #2 and it stayed there for 5 weeks, remaing on the charts for 30 weeks.

Here's Ron Moody again in his finest moment, with Reviewing the Situation:

Finally, another one of my favorites, which owns the paradox of being a very merry song but with a tragic subtext: Oom-pah-pah!

Bart's parties were legendary. Princess Margaret, the Rolling Stones and Muhammad Ali were all regulars at his London home — or what was known as the ‘Fun Palace’. So were Noel Coward, ballet dancer Rudolf Nureyev and The Beatles.

Footballer Bobby Moore and his wife were invited there hours after England’s 1966 World Cup win at Wembley. They arrived to find Joan Collins, Tom Jones, Jack Charlton and a group of hippies.

Sometimes the host would join his guests, up to 600 of them, as they danced, drank and ingested other substances in the vast stateroom. At other times, he preferred to lie in his sound-proofed bedroom behind the minstrels’ gallery, watching the party below.

His generosity knew no bounds, his extravagance no limits. Lionel Bart, the son of an East End tailor, had made millions from song-writing and he knew how to spend them. His Chelsea mansion had 27 opulently decorated rooms. Suits of armour lined the staircase, chandeliers shimmered above and an incongruous cast iron stork perched on the rooftop. Gadgets such as remote-controlled curtains, concealed TVs and sound systems littered the house. There were mirrors everywhere — John Lennon liked getting stoned in one of the mirrored lavatories — and a secret passage through the back of a wardrobe to a sauna.

On a table by the front door was a glass bowl stuffed with cash, to which his guests could help themselves. A second bowl, it was said, contained cocaine, to which they were equally welcome.

He once woke up at 3am to find a couple of rival roisterers, actor Oliver Reed and The Who drummer Keith Moon, unconscious at the end of his bed.

Then things started to go wrong. Brian Epstein (the Beatles' manager) in particular had started to indulge in orgies with underage teenage boys, and when the father of one 15-year-old complained to the police, Bart's activities came under the spotlight, too, together with those of Beatles' solicitor David Jacobs.

Even Sir Laurence Olivier was accused of taking part in the orgies. During the summer of 1967, they were all worried men. Then Epstein killed himself, souring the party scene for ever.

Insiders from that period recall that none of Bart's brief romances made the composer happy. One young lover remembers him as one of the unhappiest men he ever knew:

'He was so full of self-doubt, he could never get to grips with his homosexuality  -  although he pretended otherwise, he really hated it. And he thought he was ugly.'

The truth is that he had never felt at ease with himself  -  but, paradoxically, many believed that was what gave his songs such poignancy. He had a long-term boyfriend,  then a series of casual lovers, but  he did not publicly come out until 1971, four years after homosexuality was legalized.

In 1962, he wrote another musical, Blitz!, based on his wartime childhood in the East End. It had an  18-month run, but neither Blitz! nor his next musical, Maggie May, came close to the success of Oliver!

Undeterred, in 1965 he began writing another musical, Twang!! Based loosely on the story of Robin Hood, it lacked any coherent storyline or dialogue, possibly because — according to the director — Lionel was high on the hallucinogenic drug LSD. By the time the curtain went down on the first night of Twang!!, most of the audience had left. The critics savaged it.

As the investors pulled out, Lionel wrote cheque after cheque from his personal account to keep it going. It was no good. Twang!! closed within a few weeks of opening. It was an utter flop. Within six years, Lionel had gone from box office gold to poison. No producer would touch him.

After the success of the film Oliver!, he was invited to Hollywood to write movies, but in the Los Angeles environment his inspiration deserted him. He resorted to making ridiculous demands, such as having a giant teddy bear travel in the front seat of his chauffeur-driven car.

He returned home several months later, to find that a close companion and house guest, 21-year-old Anthony Haydon, had made off with a van-load of expensive possessions including clocks, paintings, antiques and film projectors. Lionel was devastated by the betrayal: he had trusted, even loved, Haydon. The goods were recovered, but the Fun Palace was tainted. Lionel sold it, moving to a small mews house in South Kensington.

He wrote another musical, La Strada — based on the Italian film of the same name that was written and directed by Federico Fellini — which opened on Broadway in December 1969 and closed after one night. If the Sixties had been Lionel’s decade of success, the Seventies were one long downward spiral.

In January 1970, he was arrested for drunk-driving, but was acquitted. That autumn brought the death of his mother, to whom he was devoted, and a heartbroken Lionel began drinking more heavily.

His financial naivety and extravagance were catching up with him. He told a reporter he owed ‘half a million’. To clear his debts, Lionel made  his worst financial decision ever. In April 1970, he sold the rights  to his published music for the next six years, and the stage and film rights to Oliver! to a production company. He got just £300,000 for them. (A few years later they were worth £2 million.) Then he filed for bankruptcy to pay off his debts. Haunted by failure, Lionel was downing up to three bottles of vodka a day. Together with Keith Moon, The Who’s notoriously self-destructive drummer, he ingested every illegal substance invented. In February 1971, he was arrested for possessing cannabis, but the charges were dropped.

Through it all, Lionel kept writing, but success continued to elude him. Then, in 1977, the producer Cameron Mackintosh put Oliver! back on the West End stage. It was, once more, a massive hit and was revived again in 1983. Though Mackintosh paid him as an adviser, it was not enough to save Lionel, financially or emotionally. Having sold most of his possessions, he moved to a modest flat in Acton, West London, descending further into alcoholism.

He developed diabetes and cirrhosis of the liver and his once skinny frame became spherical. ‘Do you know why I never committed suicide?’ he once asked. ‘Because I would simply hate to be found in any condition other than utter splendour.’

In 1994, Cameron Mackintosh produced another revival of Oliver!, directed by the young director Sam Mendes, which proved its enduring appeal. It made around £10 million in advance ticket sales — and Mackintosh generously gave Lionel a share of the royalties.

In 1999, however, the years of abuse finally caught up with Lionel’s body. He died of liver cancer, leaving £1 million to his friends and charities, a fraction of the millions he had been worth at his peak. But with Lionel, it was never about the money — much as he loved spending it.

‘It’s the kicks that matter, nothing else. I just want to write musicals. I want to stand up and shout to the biggest audience I can get.’

Not bad for a skinny little boy from the East End who couldn’t even read music.