I realised that my father, who knew his partner as well as anyone, was probably quite right, but I had my final say. ‘Donald should feel proud to be associated with such a memorable character as Siegfried Farnon!’
This flare-up from Donald had been brewing for some time. Three or four years previously, when he had first set eyes on If Only They Could Talk, he had remained tight-lipped. This was in striking contrast to his brother’s reaction. Brian was delighted to be known as Tristan, and discussed his new role enthusiastically with Alf whenever they met, but in all the years that I knew Donald, I never once heard him speak about the books of James Herriot.
Alf did. The only time that he ever heard his partner refer to his work was when he said to him, one day after reading the first book, ‘Alfred! This book is a test of our friendship!’
This had upset Alf, but now his greatest fear had materialised – that his writing would not only hurt someone but that he would be taken to court over it. Even worse, it was one of his oldest friends who was raising objections.
I remember him saying to me at the time, ‘I have lain awake these last two nights wishing that I had never written the bloody books!’
The threat of legal action from Donald was a risk that the film company had had to take. At the outset, he had refused to sign a licence issued by the producers, Tallent Associates of New York, allowing them to ‘make any changes in, deletions from or additions to any account of my life and to fictionalise and dramatise the account as the producer may deem necessary’.
Brian had signed his disclaimer without a murmur but Donald had felt differently. In his opinion, it would give the producers a free hand to depict him in the film as they wished, and for a man who resented his part in the James Herriot phenomenon, his reluctance to sign is hardly surprising. He had been upset when the producers risked the consequences and had gone ahead without his agreement, but when he saw the portrayal of himself on the film set, his long-felt, simmering feelings of disapproval boiled over.
Alf acted quickly. He immediately telephoned not only Brian, but their sister, Elsa, who lived in the south of England. Having explained the situation, they both offered Alf their full support, agreeing that the depiction of their brother was not exaggerated in any way. Elsa was a great fan of the Herriot books and was so indignant that Donald was objecting to the character of Siegfried that she warned her brother forcibly that there would be dire consequences should he attempt to take the matter further. Whatever she said appeared to work and filming continued.
Donald exploded again the following year, when he read some of the reviews of the film which described Anthony Hopkins’ performance as the ‘eccentric bachelor’ and the ‘excitable Siegfried’, but never again was the threat of litigation to cloud the relationship between the two men.
In Donald’s defence, I firmly believe that he would never have actually sued my father. He was always a man whose next move was impossible to predict and, despite this confrontation over his portrayal as Siegfried, he always had a deep respect for his partner.
In all the time that I knew Donald, I never really understood how he felt about the publicity surrounding the ‘Herriot explosion’. Shortly after his threat of legal action, he and Audrey were present at the end-of-film parties that everyone enjoyed with the actors and producers, and they seemed to be thoroughly at ease.
In the following years, when thousands of tourists invaded the surgery, Donald would frequently take it upon himself to give them a guided tour of the premises and the old garden. Was this the same man who had confronted his partner about the books and films which he said he disapproved of so strongly? The inimitable Siegfried Farnon was every bit as unpredictable in real life as James Herriot had shown him to be.
After this episode, Alf trod very warily when writing about Siegfried, toning down his character considerably in future books. I thought this was a great shame and I told my father so at the time. I had always reckoned Siegfried to be the pivotal character in the books, one whom the many Herriot fans had grown to love. Tom McCormack, of St Martin’s Press in New York, agreed. He wrote to Alf in 1974:
‘I think you can honestly tell your partner that the million American readers who have come to know him through All Creaturesare immensely fond of him. Next to James and Helen, he is easily the favourite character in the book. Surprisingly, his combustibility is a much more attractive thing than any blandness and sobriety that might replace it … I’d urge strongly that the American edition be allowed to retain the lively and explosive Siegfried we’ve all grown so fond of.’
Throughout their years together, Alf was always the driving force in the practice to whom Donald often turned for advice, even on personal matters. There was no real need for him to bow to Donald’s wishes in any way but, at the back of his mind, he felt a stab of guilt. I remember his saying to me at the time, ‘We all have a laugh at old Donald and his ways but perhaps it’s a bit different for him, being on the receiving end of it all?’
Alfred Wight had upset one of his oldest friends and he was going to see that it did not happen again. From then on, the character of Siegfried was considerably played down in the books.
One thing that softened the blow a little for Donald was that he, Brian and I received a small percentage of the money from the film royalties. This was a legal measure to avoid tax, my father arguing that we had contributed towards providing the material on which the original stories were based. The taxman did not allow any substantial amounts to filter down to us but, nevertheless, it was a welcome addition to the yearly budget. Alf felt that any amount, no matter how small, was better in the pockets of his friends than adding to the already considerable sum that was fattening the purse of the Inland Revenue.
This injection of cash was repeated with the next film, and we received regular little cheques right through the television series into the 1980s. As a newly-married man, I was highly appreciative of this extra money, and Brian, too, was delighted to receive these welcome boosts to his economy, as a letter written to Alf in May 1980 reveals. The style shows that he had changed little from those fantasising days of his youth:
Salutations Schistosoma,
I have just received a simple printed letter from David Higham and his limited Associates, enclosing another simple cheque for £597.38.
A blessing on you, kind and noble sir – this means that I and my kin can revel in the hot groceries once more and I can indulge my craving for Tetley’s Bitter Ale to my belly’s content.
We must meet again soon, to taste the dishes of Cathay, so nobly served in Wetherby Market Place.
Yours as ever,
Wolf J. Flywheel
*
The first film received good notices and a second one was planned. This one, called ‘It Shouldn’t Happen to a Vet’, was shot in 1975 and had its Gala Première in London’s Shaftesbury Avenue on 8 April 1976.
Reader’s Digest again sponsored the film and the producer, as for the previous one, was David Susskind. This time, to Alf’s delight, the film was shot in the Yorkshire Dales around his most favourite areas of Wensleydale and Swaledale. Apart from Lisa Harrow who played Helen once again, there were different actors playing the main characters. John Alderton – already popular with the British public for his many appearances in ‘Upstairs Downstairs’ – took the part of James Herriot. Colin Blakely played Siegfried but, in this film, there was no Tristan character.