Thomas Albert Gillyon, known as Al, b. 1st April
1921 d. 1990
Lily took both
her boys to dance class and the teacher said to uncle Al “Right lad, lets see
what you can do” So he did and the teacher was very
impressed. Al went on to be a
professional entertainer, this back in the days when they did everything: acting;
singing; dancing; comedy. I remember
Grandma singing and clapping her hands al lot, so maybe this talent came from
her side. During WW2 Uncle Al served
with the 2nd battalion of the East Yorkshire Regiment (as his Uncle
William had done in WW1) and as such was among those who were rescued from
Dunkirk. In fact the 2nd
battalion of the East Yorkshire Regiment were almost the last to be taken off
the beaches. They were also one of the
first battalions to land on the beaches in Normandy in 1944, however I don’t
know if Al was with them because I believe that later in the war he was with
the Middle East infantry.
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Early in his entertaining career he toured the country performing in clubs etc. Dad blamed Uncle Al’s alcoholism on his job, saying that whenever his tour brought him back to Hull all the locals would be very proud to know him and rather than ask him what he wanted to drink they would buy him expensive doubles such as whisky that they really couldn’t afford and say “Here you go Al, here’s your drink”. It would have been rude to refuse the drink. I have a theory that it may be more to do with a little dutch courage or relaxant before stepping out on stage (on the rare occasions I’ve been on stage I know it’s helped my performance!) |
“Our
big kid” |
Uncle
Al on the right |
I was fascinated by my Uncle Al, I loved
dancing and spent my childhood wanting to go to dance class but was never
allowed (“no, we can’t afford it”) and here was someone who had made a living
at it. As well as having a drink
problem he was a heavy smoker and had nicotine yellow finger nails, skin and
hair. I remember him as
a DJ on radio Humberside, all the old ladies loved him! It’s understandable because he was very well
spoken and had a very husky ‘smokers’ voice, excellent for radio! Unfortunately he often used to turn up for
work and go air drunk, then he’d get sacked, the old ladies of Humberside would
protest and he’d be re-instated. I
believe the pattern repeated itself a few times. I remember sitting on the bus and hearing a couple of old dears
behind me talking about how much they enjoyed his show. Rather than turn round and tell them he was
my uncle I decided to listen in!
During the
‘70’s Uncle Al lived with grandma in Lakeside Grove along with his much younger
sister my Aunty Pat who had downs syndrome, and his daughter, Virginia. He also had an older son, Paul, by then
married with his own family who lived along way away. When we visited he was often asleep in the chair by the
fire. Unfortunately, as I understand
it, when Uncle Al got drunk his behaviour became aggressive, Aunty Pat was
quite nervous of him. Sometimes dad
would get a ‘phone call from 20 Lakeside Grove and dash over there on his own
with no explanation. After grandma died
of a heart attack in 1977 Uncle Al sold everything in the house and used all
the money to buy drink. No bills were
paid, the utilities were cut off. After
that he and dad had no contact with each other for about six or seven years
until the early to mid 1980s.
By this time he
had his alcoholism under control and was doing quite a bit of television. He was the station master on Brideshead
Revisited, he was in a play called ‘180’ about a pub lock-in and he hosted the
Book Tower on one occasion. One
particularly memorable turn was as a pig farmer in two episodes from series
three of All Creatures Great and Small.
One evening while mum and I were watching the programme, dad dashed in
from the kitchen where he was washing the pots and looked intently at the telly
with a smile on his face, then went back into the kitchen. Mum and I were a bit puzzled. When the credits started rolling he dashed
back in to look at the telly again and there was the name Al Gillyon rolling
by. He said “I thought it was my
brother, I recognised his voice”. By
then Al was living in a bungalow in Cottingham with a very nice lady
friend. This is where we visited him
and I could very proudly tell I’d started tap dancing lessons (I was 18,
working and paying for it myself). It’s
a blessing that they made friends when they did because my dad died within a
year.
During a recent
conversation with mum she was enthusing about how funny he was on stage which
was interesting but also nice because I’d never heard her say anything
complimentary about him before. I think
he’s the real reason that I wasn’t allowed to go to dance class.
Teresa Graham
2006
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