,
14 tweets,
3 min read
Read on Twitter
I had no plans to release this material any time soon, but in light of the Carl Beech disaster, I thought this might add a little counterbalance to the prevailing narrative.
A POSTCARD FROM LONDON: I was told to smile for the camera, but this was the best I could manage. Tacky little paste-ups like this were considered to be the height of sophisticated marketing back in the day (I’ve had the image cleaned up and enhanced). 
Sometimes photos (with bio details on the back) of the latest Playland recruits, considered to have high-earnings potential for the Firm, were circulated to the more discerning up-market clients. In effect, a boy could be ordered from a catalogue.
I’ve just recently found out that some photos were sent to “movie casting directors” in Amsterdam. To those in the know, the advertising message was simple. Everything you could see in the photo was for sale.
Speaking of movies, film buffs will note the poster for The Liquidator beneath the Coca Cola sign. This was a 1965 film starring Rod Taylor and Jill St. John (of Diamonds are Forever fame) It was directed by Jack Cardiff, also one of the greatest cinematographers of all time.
Working in the West End, I was always surrounded by thrilling, glamourous and often sexy film posters. I made a point of memorising the names of film composers whose names featured. It has become my specialist knowledge quiz subject.
One day it dawned on me that I too, worked in the “entertainment” industry.
Other contact details for boys would be given out by way of business cards, often with little notes or literary gems like this:
This particular business card was found in a book that belonged to Sir Michael Havers. The book had been a gift from his old friend, the journalist Chapman Pincher. I always did find old books fascinating. Amazing what turns up.
A one-time client of mine (who now merits a footnote in The Abuse of Power) was best-selling author Robin Maugham, member of the House of Lords and nephew of W. Somerset Maugham.
Robin cried poverty the night we met, but he promised to give me a signed copy of one of his books. It arrived in Derry five years later!
Six months after that, Robin died in a Brighton hospital. His body went missing for over two days, making a final cause of death diagnosis impossible. You could not make this stuff up!
This extract comes from what Chapman Pincher called “a fat folder marked Havers.” The document dates from the summer of 1975 when the Guildford Four and Playland trials were running concurrently in the Old Bailey. The author and recipient had been deleted.
Draw your own conclusions from the material above, but hey, after the Carl Beech trial, who cares anymore?
