Puppet Master

Gerry Anderson on a life with strings attached.

Answering the call of puppets.

A decade before he passed away, aged 83, in 2012, Cult TV producer Gerry Anderson reflected on his unique place in entertainment history. Laughing in the face of his advancing years, he was both excited for the future and happy to reflect upon the past.

“Kids like the same things that I did when I was a child,” explained the telly veteran. “Jeopardy, destruction and death. So we gave it to them, but in a responsible way.”

Behind Anderson’s enthusiasm was the reality that, for many years, he felt trapped by puppets. His eye set on live action, he believed the best way to make an impression on the money men was to make the likes of Stingray and Thunderbirds as realistic as possible.

“I thought they’d be so impressed they’d insist I move to live action,” he admitted. “But the reverse happened, and what they said was, ‘they’re great puppet films - let’s have some more.’”

Years later, when Anderson finally had the opportunity to make a few live action shows, he came to realise that flesh and blood is no less complicated a proposition than wood and string.

“It was marvellous at first. We moved to Pinewood to make U.F.O. and Space: 1999, and the sets were full-size, we could actually walk around them. It was wonderful, a miracle. I’d see an actor, and look, he’s walking, and his mouth is moving in synch with his dialogue, and when I say look at that black switch, his eyes look in the right direction. It was a dream come true. But then, I encountered actors who couldn’t get through a scene without questioning their motivation or a hundred other things, and I realised then and there I’d replaced one set of problems with another.”

Gerry and Sylvia Anderson at London’s Dorchester Hotel in 1966.

Trapped in a troubled marriage with second wife Sylvia, Anderson’s life, more than his art, provided plenty of live action drama.

“I had a horrendous divorce which virtually destroyed me. Everyone thought that Sylvia and I were a double act, but we weren’t. She started work in our company as a part-time secretary, while I was the chairman. The press created Gerry and Sylvia Anderson because they liked the idea of a husband and wife team. That, and whenever we had a press conference Sylvia was the last to arrive. She’d had her wig done by a West End hairdresser, and employed her own make up lady. She lured the press’s attention from other, more important members of the company, as she always looked so glamorous. We weren’t business partners, and our break-up had nothing to do with the studio. It just had to do with what I can only describe as the hell I had to endure in that marriage.

“I was on a slippery slope and ended up at a very low ebb. My confidence went completely. Then I met my third wife Mary,” who he was with for 37 years, until his death, “which I think proves I don’t flit from one woman to the other. At the time I was having terrible trouble getting new projects off the ground, so I went into commercials, and by contrast to those years where I’d had a rough time, suddenly it was, ‘Here’s the idea Gerry, here’s the money, and aren’t you wonderful!’ I started to climb back up again and reclaim my self-respect. I got back on my feet, with Mary’s help, and returned to the land of the living.”

Life was a lot less complicated in the Sixties, Gerry’s heyday. Back then all that was required to get a show off the ground was a cosy chat with ITC’s head honcho, cigar smoking legend Lew Grade.  

“Lew was a wonderful guy from every point of view. For twelve years he supplied all the money, we didn’t get too much interference, and everything was marvellous.

Chris Lee and Lew Grade chat on the set of Space: 1999 in Pinewood Studios: 1975.

“As each series came to an end I knew that Lew would want to know what the next series was going to be. Back when I had the idea for Thunderbirds I remember going to his office for one of our customary early morning meetings.

“‘What’s the new idea?’ he asked. I explained that it was a rescue story, but that I had no script, no drawings, no synopsis, nothing. He liked it anyway. ‘The only thing is Lew,’ I said, ‘it’s going to be very expensive and I’m not sure you’ll want to back this one.’ He leapt up from his desk, grabbed me by the scuff off the neck, dragged me to the centre of the office and said, ‘Gerry, do you see that light bulb up there?’ And I said ‘yes’. He said, ‘Gerry if you want to make a series about that light bulb I’ll back it’. That was Lew, and I loved him.”

After years of uncertainty about the quality, longevity and value of his work, the father of Supermarionation came to cherish his unique place in entertainment history.

“After a lifetime in showbusiness I can honestly say that in all that time I only had one letter of criticism. It said, ‘Mr Anderson I think your shows are a load of crap’. That was it. Very constructive. All the other letters I get are tremendously kind and helpful, though, so I must be doing something right.”

What’s your favourite Gerry Anderson show?