This Is Your Life: Richard Carr-Gomm

Richard CARR-GOMM (1922-2008)

THIS IS YOUR LIFE - Richard Carr-Gomm, charity founder and former soldier, was surprised by Eamonn Andrews in the audience at the BBC Television Theatre, having been brought there by his wife on the final night of their honeymoon.

Richard, who was born near Atherstone in Warwickshire and educated at Stowe School, served with the Royal Berkshire Regiment and the Coldstream Guards during the Second World War. Having resigned from his commission with the Guards in September 1955, he became a volunteer home-help in the London borough of Bermondsey.

Richard's concern for the number of older lonely people in the borough led him to use his Army gratuity to buy a house. Acting as a housekeeper, he provided shelter, food and companionship to those who took up his offer to share it with him. Within two years, Richard had opened five more houses and formed the Abbeyfield Society, a registered charity providing sheltered housing and care for older people.

programme details...

Edition No: 40
Subject No: 40
Broadcast live: Mon 4 Nov 1957
Broadcast time: 7.30-8.00pm
Venue: BBC Television Theatre
Series: 3
Edition: 6

on the guest list...

Maj Tom Moodie
RSM Smith
Lavinia Keppel
Godfrey Winn
Marie Monk
William Halnan
Dinah Saunders
May Hughes
Ellen Griffiths
Jenny Previté
Rev Leslie J Timmins
Susan - wife
Dorothy - mother

production team...

Researchers: Nigel Ward, George Bruce, Michael Friend, Ray Marler
Writer: Ken Smith
Director: unknown
Producer: T Leslie Jackson

names above in bold indicate subjects of This Is Your Life

related pages...

A Charitable Life

the unsung heroes

The Night of 1000 Lives

a celebration of a thousand editions

Godfrey Winn

Photographs of Richard Carr-Gomm This Is Your Life

Richard Carr-Gomm recalls his experience of This Is Your Life in his autobiography, Push on the Door...

As a result of our muddled engagement and surprise wedding, our future was completely unplanned and we had had no time to organise ourselves, let alone work out where we were going to live (and of course by our rushed and secret wedding we had deprived ourselves of wedding presents!), So back at work we spent the first few weeks in a room in one of the Society's houses in Bermondsey. From there we started house-hunting.

First, though, we had become involved in the television programme This Is Your Life. This was at the end of our honeymoon and was a well-kept secret from me. Susan had had telephone calls from William while we were in our hotel (getting her to agree to "produce" me), and it was lucky, I suppose, that we were on Dartmoor and not in Jamaica! I was too unenquiring to ask what these calls were about.

I was told though that we were to spend the last evening of the honeymoon with both our families at a party which included watching a television play as members of a live audience. A chauffeur-driven car collected us from a house in Abbeyfield Road, and we were driven very fast across London to Shepherd's Bush, where the chauffeur (I now know) pretended that the car was out of petrol. We therefore waited (obviously having got through the London evening traffic more easily than he had expected) until he came back, pretended to fill up, and drove us quickly 300 yards to the theatre.

We were shown to our seats and the audience filled in round us. The show started and, as I had never seen it before, I was not suspicious when Eamonn Andrews came on and began going round the audience introducing various honeymoon couples, who "happened" (collected, I gather, by frantic telephone calls to more obvious hotels) to be in London that night; these included us, and Susan remembered to say that her name was Carr-Gomm and not Gibbs.

I still didn't really know what it was about when he came back to me and said "Richard Carr-Gomm, this is your life", and led me to the stage. I never heard a word he said after that because it was all so bewildering. I was never aware that the television cameras were working at all for it was just great fun seeing Bermondsey helpers, "my favourite deb", our first and other residents, my squadron sergeant-major, a sympathetic neighbour from Sussex, my mother, friends and relations (but not the Kabaka, whom they had thought about asking but decided it would have cost too much to fly him over). After it, more friends and family came down from a balcony where they had been hidden so that we shouldn't see them when we entered; then we had a splendid drinks party on the BBC. It was very enjoyable. Adrienne Allen, the actress, rang and said she had seen the show and would we go to a late theatre party she was giving in Hampstead. So off we went and many well-known actors and actresses were there, and with them we continued in a high and happy state till the early morning.

It wasn't till several nights later that I woke in the middle of the night and realised that twelve million people had been watching me. It made me feel cold, shivery and rather frightened. The programme produced a great response from people all over the country, and the interest it aroused seemed to last for many years. The mail was heavy and despite the kindness of Eamonn Andrews and the BBC, both of whom helped, it took a long time to answer. I had no regular secretary, and several correspondents became impatient for replies to their offers of help and cancelled them before I could get round to replying.

There were offers of holidays in caravans for the old people, pen-friends, tickets for strip clubs, interest from official organisations and a Christmas party invitation from a Rotary Club. All the offers of full-time help, which weren't already cancelled through impatience, were withdrawn once the spontaneity of the offer had worn off.

We were sent several hundred pounds, all in small amounts, and one man left us a legacy. Someone else offered the use of a car, and a furrier gave many old fur coats. A rag-and-bone man offered a half share of his takings if he could collect on our behalf, and another man promised us a cut of his takings in slot machines on Brighton piers if he could use our name on them. One of the most unusual offers came from Spike Milligan of the Goons. He had been given a barrel of beer to help him train for a tiddly-winks match with the Duke of Edinburgh's team against a Cambridge College. Not wanting the beer he had been allowed to pass it on to our Society.

Richard Carr-Gomm recalls a similar experience of This Is Your Life in his autobiography, All Things Considered...

During our honeymoon, while we were staying at the Moretonhampstead Hotel, Susan's brother, William, had been telephoning asking her to arrange to "produce me" for the television programme This Is Your Life. I was too unenquiring to ask what these calls were about and their purpose therefore remained a well-kept secret.

Susan had told me we would spend the last evening of our honeymoon with both our families at a party in London, which would include being part of a live audience watching a television play. A chauffeur driven car collected us from Abbeyfield Road and we were driven, very fast, across London to Shepherd's Bush, where (having arrived ahead of schedule) the chauffeur pretended that the car had run out of petrol. We waited while he pretended to fill up then drove the last 300 yards to the theatre.

The show started and, as I had never seen it before, I was not suspicious when Eamonn Andrews went around the audience introducing various honeymoon couples, who "just happened" to be in London that night; these included us, and Susan remembered to say that her name was Carr-Gomm and not Gibbs.

I still didn't know what it was about when he returned to me and said, "Richard Carr-Gomm, this is your life", and led me onstage. I didn't hear a word he said after that – it was all so bewildering. I didn't think about the cameras, it was just great fun seeing our Bermondsey helpers, Lavinia Keppel (favourite "Deb"), our first and other residents, my squadron Sergeant-Major, a sympathetic neighbour from Sussex, friends, my mother and other relatives, but sadly not Freddie, the Kabaka – they'd decided it would cost too much to fly him over.

After the show more friends and family came down from the balcony, where they had been hidden, and we enjoyed a splendid drinks party courtesy of the BBC. Adrienne Allen, the actress, had seen the show and invited us to a late theatre party she was giving in Hampstead so, off we went and continued to party there in a high and happy state till the early morning.

Several nights later I awoke with the realisation that 12 million people had seen me on television; I felt shivery and rather frightened. The programme produced a great response from people all over Britain and the interest it aroused both in Abbeyfield and in me lasted for many years. The mailbag was heavy and, despite the help of Eamonn Andrews and the BBC, several correspondents impatient for replies to their offers of help cancelled them before I could get round to replying.

There were offers of caravan holidays for the elderly, pen-friends, tickets to strip clubs, interest from official organisations and a Christmas party invitation from a Rotary Club. Sadly, all offers of full-time help were withdrawn once the spontaneity had worn off but we were sent several hundred pounds, all in small amounts, and one man left us a legacy. A rag-and-bone man offered a half-share of his takings if he could collect on our behalf and someone promised a cut from his slot machines on the Brighton piers if he could use our name on them. To almost all of these we said no, but we gratefully accepted the donations.

One of the more unusual gifts came from the comedian and author Spike Milligan who offered us a barrel of beer he had been given to help him train for a tiddly-winks match between the Duke of Edinburgh's team and a Cambridge College; we accepted the offer but the beer failed to materialise.

More than 40 years later we discovered that our daughter in law Ros's father (Bob Holness) had also been a subject on This Is Your Life. When the TV company invited Bob to its party celebrating 1000 of its subjects in 2000, Ros (our son David's wife) reminded them that I, too, qualified (they had forgotten). So Susan and I went with Bob and Mary Holness and together we had a great evening surrounded by well-known faces and familiar names.

Series 3 subjects