Jimmy Savile, Britain's first DJ, was one of a kind. Donal O'Donoghue remembers the broadcaster who will forever be top of the pops
The first time I saw Jimmy Savile, I wondered: "Is he for real?" That was back in the early Seventies when Savile was arguably the most famous face on television and inarguably the most unique. With his trademark torpedo-sized cigar, flowing blond tresses (which rarely saw the inside of a barbershop) and brash tracksuits, Jimmy was the Emperor of DJs and King of the Offbeat. He was also the alternative Santa Claus as he hosted the Willy Wonka-like Jim’ll Fix It, a TV show in which he made some lucky child’s dream come true. Savile was not just a fixer, he was the genie from the lamp.
The last time I heard Jimmy Savile – on John Murray’s radio show this summer – I asked myself once again "Is he for real?" On that occasion the iconoclastic broadcaster was typically blasting away – an authority on all matters - and promising to come over to Ireland and sort things out. He sounded irascible, detached, engaged and mischievous all at once. But that was the way with Savile for all his six decades or so in the broadcasting limelight. He was sui generis - a Yorkshire man who cut his teeth on the dancehall circuit and never lost the common touch or his bizarre uniqueness. When they made him they broke the mould.
I knew Savile from the TV: first as the anarchic presenter of Top of the Pops (he was Britain’s first DJ) and then as the fixer. He was like a combination of Groucho Marx, Worzel Gummidge and that horseracing punter with the dramatic sideboards and wind-milling arms. His catchphrases were as cryptic as the man himself. How else can you explain: "Now then, now then, now then". Sometimes you wondered whether his tongue was constantly in his cheek and most times you didn't know what he was likely to do next - hang upside down while presenting TOTP dressed in a banana suit was one memorable moment.
Savile described himself as a "self-punter". By that he meant he never had a manager, an agent or a secretary. He was his own boss but then he had lived many lives and career before and during his time his broadcast days. Among other things he was a miner, a wrestler, a cycle racer, a dancehall manager a marathon man and a member of Mensa. He was also a titanic and tireless charity fund-raiser and canpaigner. Jimmy Savile might have like to dress like a clown but he was nobody’s fool.
Then there’s the unusual stories, the odd things. It was reported that he spent five days with his beloved mother (he called her The Duchess) when she died. The truth, he says, was simply that the ground was too icy to bury her. There were also whispers that he liked young girls. More poppycock, he would snort: just because young starlets would like to meet him on the shows the press would add two and two and get "dirty old man".
But he did spend 11 successive New Years with Margaret Thatcher at Chequers. “We used to have marvellous arguments,” he related of those times. But he was not a political animal. “Politics is, with due respect, a bit of a non-event for me,” he told the Guardian newspaper. “People who are affected by politics fly at 747 level; I fly at Concorde level. Even when I was skint I flew at Concorde level, so what happens down here don't mean shit to me."
In that same interview the indefatigable, irresistible and seemingly invincible JS spoke about growing old (he was 73 at the time). "I once said to a girl, 'I'm older than your grandfather.' And she says, 'Well I love him as well.' I say, 'Good-oh, but I'm still too old for you', and she says, 'No, you're not because you're ageless, you're you.' Now that didn't come from me, it comes from someone else. So when people say to me, 'Don't you think you're too old to do this?', I say I'm doing what I'm doing cos I'm having a good time and why don't you piss off to leave me to do it."
Not only did Jimmy Savile have a good time but he also gave countless others a good time.
He was for real and he will be missed.
Donal O'Donoghue
