Where There’s a Will, There’s a Way

Denis Norden

When it finally became apparent that the entertainment business was the only career for which I was suited, I went to a large cinema in Leicester Square and begged them to take me on in any capacity.

‘You want to start at the very bottom of the ladder?’ asked the manager. I nodded. He pointed to something leaning against the wall. ‘That’s the ladder.’

The new job was rather grandly titled ‘Head of Display’. All it really involved was climbing up the ladder and fixing, high on the front wall of the cinema, those large metal letters which spell out the name of the film on that week.

I can’t say it was a glamorous task. In a high wind, it was often difficult and – artistically – it was something less than fulfilling. Unlike a painter or a sculptor, I was in no position to step back and survey my finished work. This led, in the first few weeks, to certain errors of judgement, among which I can remember WEST SIDE SORTY, THE SNOUD OF MUSIC and SANE CONNERY IN GOLDFINGER.

Nevertheless, the work did make me feel that little bit nearer to the great throbbing heart of show business.

But it is only the moment of emergency which really proves our worth. My moment came when the telephone rang at three o’clock in the morning. It was the manager. ‘I have just passed the cinema on my way home,’ he said. ‘Your Y has dropped off.’

Fuddled with sleep as I was, I immediately understood why he was so concerned. The film we were showing that week was My Fair Lady. Although the movement towards free thinking was gathering strength, it was still not acceptable for a Leicester Square cinema to appear to be showing a film called My Fair Lad.

When I reached the cinema, I found the letter Y lying broken on the pavement. Obviously, it was ruined beyond repair. I hurried to the store-room where the spare letters were kept. There was no spare Y!

Perhaps I can construct one, I thought. Perhaps I could take an X and change it into Y by sawing off the – as it were – south-east leg? No luck. I did it all right, but it wouldn’t stay up on the wall. Where, in London, at four o’clock in the morning, can one lay hands on a 1.25 meter-tall letter Y?

To my good luck the cinema on the opposite side of Leicester Square was showing a film whose title contained the letter I wanted. As at that time of the morning people get up to all sorts of strange things in the West End, nobody even paused to stare when I climbed up and removed the enormous Y. The only nasty moment came when I was carrying it across Coventry Street. A policeman stopped me. ‘Excuse me, sir. What might you be doing walking along at 4.30 a.m. carrying a four-foot letter Y?’

Fortunately, I kept my presence of mind. ‘This is not a letter Y, officer,’ I said. ‘It’s a water-divining rod.*’ He even touched his helmet to me as he went on his way.

By 5.00 a.m. the fair name of My Fair Lady had been restored. True, the cinema opposite, which had been packing them in with a magnificent film starring Gregory Peck and Orson Welles, now appeared to be showing a film called MOB DICK**. But that’s show business.

I’ve had warm feelings towards the screen version of Herman Melville’s great novel ever since. Indeed, I recommend that any other Head of Display who finds himself in a similar predicament to mine should look around for a cinema showing it. You’ll find what I found: Where there’s a whale, there’s a Y.

* Water-divining rod – a branch shaped like Y, used for discovering underground water

** Mob Dick – from " Moby Dick", Melville’s novel about a great white whale

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