‘I think that if I live to be ninety, a little of the magic of Doctor Who will still cling to me!’
William Hartnell from The Making of Doctor Who
Malcolm Hulke and Terrance Dicks
WILLIAM HENRY HARTNELL was born on 8 January 1908 at 24 Regent Square, South Pancras, London. His mother, Lucy Hartnell, was a commercial clerk. To his dying day, William Hartnell never knew who his father was or where he originated from. His mother had come from Taunton, and Hartnell maintained a love of the West Country throughout his life. This may explain why he lied about his birthplace on Desert Island Discs in 1965, claiming that he came from Seaton in Devon, which of course he hadn’t.
Hartnell’s formative years were in a tough, working-class environment. His illegitimacy would have caused him some embarrassment and he would get into scrapes as a young working-class boy. If we are to believe a journal he left behind after his death (written in the early 1920s and mentioned in his own granddaughter’s biography of him), he was fostered by a family called Harris while his mother took employment as a nanny in Belgium. In Hartnell’s biography Who’s There (Virgin, 1996), written by his granddaughter Jessica Carney, it relates that he would again live with his mother in Holborn sometime later, but he continued to be a wild-card into his teens, when he had to choose a profession.
At the age of 16 (1925), Hartnell took to the boards, but not as an actor. He joined Sir Frank Benson’s Shakespearean Company as an assistant stage manager, property manager, assistant lighting director and general dogsbody. It was a two-year apprenticeship in theatre and classical acting skills, with the occasional opportunity of taking a walk-on part. It was all tough work at the end of the day, as Hartnell explained: ‘It was good training. Not only in Shakespeare, but in keeping fit. Sir Frank Benson believed in keeping actors in good health and we were organised into hockey teams and cricket sides.’ Benson was in his late sixties by then, so little chance of him exerting himself too much!
By the age of 18, Hartnell was touring the country as an actor, the bug to perform finally taking him over. He no longer wanted to hide backstage, but wanted to progress his love of comedy. For six years, he would tour in comedy and song and dance shows, understudying such respected actors as Bud Flanagan (from the infamous Crazy Gang). From this, he progressed to understudying in London’s West End, but would take the main role when the play left London and toured the provincial cities. So Hartnell built his skills slowly and became quite well known in the acting world as a player of farce. This progressed to short comedy films in the 1930s, such as one of Hartnell’s favourite roles (albeit only a 50-minute feature) as a man, Edward Whimperley, who eats an explosive, in I’m an Explosive (1933).
Comedy was a love of Hartnell’s as he confessed, ‘my real guiding light was Charlie Chaplin. He influenced me more than any other factor in taking up acting as a career.’ A lot of actors adopt an initial love of comedy before settling down to another genre, for example, horror icon (and one time Doctor Who) Peter Cushing had an early role opposite Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy in their movie A Chump at Oxford, in 1940.
Hartnell played in over 20 films before the outbreak of the Second World War, not all of them comedy, but many quite short character roles with his parts quite minor.
Hartnell’s career was stopped by the war. He was drafted into the Tank Corps but very quickly had a nervous breakdown and was invalided out after 15 months. ‘The strain was too much,’ he said. ‘I spent 12 weeks in an army hospital and came out with a terrible stutter. The colonel said, “Better get back to the theatre. You’re no bloody good here!”
‘I had to start all over again. I was still only a spit and cough in the profession and now I had a stutter which scared the life out of me.’
Hartnell worked hard to overcome his illness, which he did with gusto. In 1942, he had an uncredited role as a German soldier in the Will Hay classic The Goose Steps Out. Although his part in this film was very minor, Hartnell was working with a major comedy star of his day, which gave him much exposure. In fact, Hartnell’s cold image in the film set against Hay’s chaos is noteworthy and was a taste of what was to come. As Hartnell’s roles got larger, they also grew colder.
His first real praiseworthy appearance was in a movie called Sabotage at Sea (1942), where he played a villain under heavy make-up and moustache. Through this role, Hartnell learned that you didn’t need much make-up to be a sinister character. A normal-looking man with much facial expression could be just as cruel; so Hartnell developed and grew with each significant role he played.
In 1943, Hartnell was approached by film producer Sir Carol Reed to play an army sergeant (Ned Fletcher) in the film The Way Ahead, alongside David Niven and a young John Laurie (later Fraser in Dad’s Army). Hartnell’s role was very gritty. The film centres on a group of conscripts and how they deal with military life. It opens in 1939 with Chelsea pensioners stating that if war was declared Britain would be in trouble because ‘young men can’t fight’. As the film was made in 1943, one could label The Way Ahead a propaganda movie, with just enough flag-flying to show young conscripted men that they were doing the right thing by going to war. Eric Ambler and Peter Ustinov’s script is better than that though, with a down-and-dirty edge. Hartnell’s gung-ho sergeant counterbalanced by David Niven’s over-privileged officer commanding enhances the film further. The Way Ahead is a film that explains much about its time and is one of the highlights of Hartnell’s career.
Hartnell’s character is a stern no-nonsense regular soldier – not a conscript – who has to whip the new conscripts into shape, anticipating many of his film roles to come (including Carry On Sergeant). Hartnell really made an impression in the film, with his hard piercing stare and cast-iron personality.
His first scene is in itself a show of strength: heckled by a man at a railway station he holds back but looks dangerous. Unfortunately for the man, he becomes one of the sergeant’s conscripts, but Hartnell’s character never mentions it or shows any extra animosity towards him, which shows an impressive depth of character.
The film is very true to life in its interpretation of how the different walks of life came together in the barrack room and how they were brought together as a credible unit by their screaming sergeant, something Hartnell does an awful lot of.
The Way Ahead showcases Hartnell in his prime: a robust young actor with a resonant voice and much stage presence. He works perfectly alongside David Niven, especially when Niven questions his discipline with the men; but perhaps that discipline is as feisty as that bestowed upon him no more than 18 months previously in his own war. This strongly suggests that Hartnell was a better actor than a soldier.
The Way Ahead was a big success and Hartnell became a popular actor, albeit now typecast. But perhaps he can blame himself for that. With regard to The Way Ahead, he visited a real-life army sergeant, thus overcoming his wartime angst and showcasing his desire to always research his roles thoroughly.
Hartnell’s typecasting became more prominent in the theatre with Seagulls over Sorrento (1950), which starred John Gregson, Nigel Stock, Bernard Lee and Ronald Shiner. Hartnell was Petty Officer Herbert in this nautical farce. The play tells the story of a group of volunteers in a disused wartime naval fortress, where secret peacetime radar experiments are going on. Although a comedy, Hartnell was the straight man, the no-nonsense military officer, and people began to know what to expect from him when he came on stage or screen. Theatre World said of the production, ‘… although the play has many serious moments (for all the men have their own reasons for volunteering), it is undoubtedly for its rich comedy that it has achieved such outstanding success’.
Hartnell longed to do more comedy roles, but the typecasting had taken over completely. In 1951, he took a role as