Star turn’s such a northern light

Reporter: Martyn Torr
Date published: 10 December 2013


Part two of our ‘Martyn Meets’ chat with doyen of Oldham theatre Kenneth Alan Taylor


AND so it came to pass that Kenneth Alan Taylor fetched up in Oldham - far, far away from his Cockney homeland in the East End of London.

But this legend of the boards, a man who pretty much single-handedly rescued the Coliseum from oblivion in the early 1980s (my description, Kenneth’s too modest) was not enamoured of his first taste of what was to become his new home town.

It was 1959 when he boarded the train at Kings Cross and headed north.

“I vividly remember asking the man in the Manchester ticket office for a ticket to Oldham and was astonished when he asked if I wanted Werneth, Central or Mumps.”

Cockney Kenneth had no idea what the man was talking about. Three stations? In a town the size of Oldham?

The ticket clerk advised Mumps for the Coliseum.. When Kenneth arrived it was dark and pouring with rain.

“There were gas lights and cobbled streets. I thought ‘Oh my God, where have I come to?’” he says.

“I phoned my mum back in East Ham and told her there were people in clogs and shawls.”

Things have changed a little since then and Kenneth, now 76 and living in majestic splendour at the Manor House in Springhead with his actress wife Judith Barker, can look back with a nostalgic fondness he didn’t have then.

“I recall getting the bus to my lodgings in Villa Road and saw women covered in snow - except it wasn’t snowing. It was only later I learned they were covered in cotton from the mills.

:It was a complete culture shock.”

Yet here he remains, a determined lover of Oldham. And why wouldn’t he? For Oldham — from theatregoers to pantomime devotees — loves him right back.

The pantomime he introduced to the Coliseum remains the template for today’s production which, like his own show at the Nottingham Playhouse, is the company’s financial life blood.

We have much to thank him for, and he in turn has much to thank Oldham for. It was here he met his wife Judith; their children and grandchildren are firmly part of the Oldham and wider theatre fabric.

He met Judith on that first visit in 1959; she was a young lass engaged in the acquisitive art of props.

“There was a real community feel to Oldham, the people were a joy,” he says. “We would ask the theatregoers for props and they would bring stuff from home.”

After that first visit he worked around the country and was finishing a season in the Isle of Wight when he landed the lead role in a production of “Billy Liar” at the Coliseum. The mother of Carl Paulsen - the Coliseum’s artistic director at the time - died and Kenneth was asked to step in.

He bought a copy of the script, read the part on the train north and went straight on stage that night. Judith was playing the part of Rita, one of three ladies in the plot, and Kenneth has a vivid memory of the rehearsals.

“There was a point when Rita had to lean forward and kiss Billy — and that’s exactly what Judith did.

“She kissed me! That didn’t happen in rehearsals, not at all, and I thought ‘this is bit of all right’.”

And so a relationship developed that has stood the test of time — though it was some years later that they actually married, living in a cottage adjacent to the Coliseum.

Granada Television was just starting up and there was work in Quay Street, but the thespian twosome were encouraged to go to London for the good of their burgeoning careers. Fame and fortune in London didn;t happen so the pair returned and have been here ever since

On the return, Paulsen gave Kenneth the chance to direct “The Flowering Cherry” and Kenneth’s career direction was set; his career as actor and director blossomed.

Sadly the Coliseum didn’t. Poor management of what was then a theatre club led to closure, and Kenneth continued in work wherever he could while back in Oldham, the Coliseum gathered dust and decay.

A new board was formed under the leadership of former Oldham Council chief executive Colin Smith and Kenneth landed the job he deserved as artistic director - no one knew the Oldham audience better.

“I was thrilled,” he said.

Chris Moxon was appointed as administrator to work alongside Kenneth and after a slow start - Chris took one look at the damp, dingy auditorium place and said no - Kenneth persuaded him to stay

Volunteers were recruited to make the theatre usable and the place was so cold the actors implored the audience to bring blankets.

“One chap shouted at me during a performance that I should hire a fire-eater in the next production so they could all keep warm!”

He and Moxon had 18 months to make their plans work. But the first two productions looked like that might not happen. They were disastrous.

“They bombed,” confessed Kenneth.

But their next production was something very special: the first stage production of “Kes”. It opened to a paltry 37 people, but sparked rave reviews and was soon sold out.

“I was preparing for the next production when Chris insisted I join him outside. I went reluctantly... to find queues all down Fairbottom Street! It was a wonderful sight.”

The Coliseum was back on its feet. Five years later Kenneth left to take over the larger Nottingham Playhouse and stayed there seven years - introducing Nottingham to his superlative pantos in the process, something they are still enjoying - before returning for a second stint at his beloved Coliseum.

He isn’t retired now, not a bit of it. He’s hardly a workaholic but he loves theatre and has written, produced and directed the Nottingham panto for the past 30 years. When the curtain falls on this year’s “Jack and the Beanstalk” Kenneth will hang up his false bosom for the last time.

Yes, he is retiring from acting. Again. For he has retired before and, who knows, may well do so again though I get the impression this time he really means it.

He will continue working — “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if it didn’t” — and has already penned “Sleeping Beauty” for next year, though insists he won’t be in it. We’ll see.

“No-one believes me when I say I’m quitting,” he readily admits and it’s hardly any wonder. The theatre is in his blood, part of his DNA.

And Oldham is, too. The gas lamps and cobbles have gone but Kenneth remains, an institution in his own right. Long may he reign.