RUBBING shoulders with Diana Dors, partying at the birthplace of British rock and roll, and grappling with an over-excited kitten on Egyptian television; Seymour Borlant knows there’s no business like showbusiness.
Standing among the shelves of soft furnishings in the Darlington shop that bears his name, Seymour Borlant unfurls a yellowing Iraq Times newspaper dating from 1961.
On an inside page is a large advert for The Bengali Show which promises “beautiful girls” and the “fabulous voice star” Garry Seymour.
With a twinkle in his eye, 77-yearold Seymour points at the picture of the handsome, raven-haired Garry Seymour and smiles: “That’s me.”
Seymour’s story starts as many a good tale does; a young man bored with his lot decides to head for London to see if the streets really are paved with gold.
He packs up his things, leaves his Darlington market stall behind, and soon finds himself at the heart of swinging Soho, performing with the rising stars of the era and meeting the likes of Marty Wilde and The Bachelors.
“It was all very glamorous,” says Seymour. “I met an awful lot of the stars in the golden era of the stage and I was right there in the thick of it. We used to go to the 2i’s cafe where all the big names started. It’s known as the birthplace of rock and roll and it was the place to be in the 1950s.
“People like Tommy Steele, Adam Faith and Cliff Richard all started their careers there.”
SEYMOUR once dated Mandy Rice-Davies, who later rose to infamy through her friendship with Christine Keeler whose affair with government minister John Profumo became a national scandal.
“I only took her out for a week,”
says Seymour, “I was single in those days.”
In 1958, Seymour joined the Wee Willie Harris show, which featured a host of budding stars including Marty Wilde and Cliff Richard and he has fond memories of the characters he met.
“Wee Willie Harris was a crazy singer with mad red hair, who used to jump onstage in a leotard. We were all just young lads back then, but even then we could all see that Cliff had something special.
“We once did a show in Dublin and Billy Fury was being so ‘expressive’ with the microphone that he got taken off the stage and the rest of us had to do the whole show. His actions weren’t looked on very favourably in a catholic country.”
In 1960, Seymour was given the opportunity to perform in the Middle East and he left London to work in a casino in Egypt. It was there that he had his first taste of live television, despite the best efforts of a wayward kitten trying to ruin his big moment.
“I was on this Egyptian television show miming along to a song. I was doing two numbers and had to walk from one set to another, but as I was walking to the second stage the producer passed me this little kitten.
“There wasn’t anything I could do other than carry on miming along with this kitten wriggling in my arms – I think they thought it would be a good idea because the song lyrics were about a kitten called Misty, but it was climbing all over me and scratching me.
“It ruined my hair and then it had an accident on my shoulder – and this was all on live television. Then, all of a sudden, these young kids started appearing at the casino to see ‘Garry Seymour from the television’.”
With his new-found fame, Seymour found himself under pressure from the casino’s manager to sign a contract, but not wanting to be tied down, the young singer joined The Bengali Show and travelled across the Middle East.
He performed in venues from Damascus to Tehran and Beirut until a love rival ensured his sharp exit from Iran.
“In Tehran I had a girlfriend in the show, a Dutch girl, and one of the government ministers of the interior fancied her. They took me to the airport and kicked me out to Cyprus; they wanted me out of the way because this guy fancied my girlfriend.”
Seymour continued working with The Bengali Show for several more months until home beckoned. He returned to England in 1964 and found himself back on a market stall in Darlington, although he continued singing at clubs and theatres in his Leeds hometown, where he became good friends with Des O’Connor.
Seymour married his wife, Andrea, in 1967 and, in 1984, moved from his market stall into a shop at Darlington’s indoor market.
“I’ve had some colourful experiences and I look back on it all fondly,”
he said. “I was a young single man and I went to all these places, but I’d had enough in the end and I enjoyed being back on the market – there is an element of performance in that.
“I’m still asked to do one or two singing things which I decline, it is about time I stopped at 77 years old.
“I only sing in the shower now,”
adds Seymour, with a cheeky flash of that showbiz smile.
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