One star singer I represented did impress Bill [Joe Collins' son]: Dorothy Squires, an ebullient lady with an amazing flow of language. Bill enjoyed visiting Dorothy and her husband, handsome actor Roger Moore. They had a fabulous house in Kent with a swimming-pool (an unusual luxury for Britain in the fifties) and a billiards room. Roger would frequently escape the chit-chat of the assembled celebrities at Dorothy's parties to play snooker with you Bill.

A policeman's son, Roger had similar gifts to those of my daughter Joan. He could act, and was good at art too. Like Joan, he rejected a career as an artist in favour of RADA.

When Dorothy Squires first met Roger she was a big star with huge and devoted fan following. As a performer she could 'sell' a song better than anyone else, putting enormous emotion into a performance. Even the young Elvis Presley, though their styles were so different, listed Dorothy as his favourite female vocalist. She was clever too, writing many of her own numbers.

At this time Roger, eight years Dorothy's junior, was just another struggling young actor.

After the couple married - in New Jersey, USA in 1953 - Dorothy confided in me, as her agent, about her ambitions for Roger. She was sure that square jaw, the keen blue eyes, the classic male beauty, would go down well in Hollywood. She encouraged Roger to try his luck there.

After unmemorable roles in the Elizabeth Taylor-Van Johnson film "The Last Time I Saw Paris" and "Diane" with Lana Turner, and a few similar movies, Roger returned to Britain disgruntled.

His sense of humour, though, was unimpaired. "In one film they asked if I?d mind working with a vocal choach as my accent was a little too English," Roger told me. "This was odd - considering I was playing the Duke of Wellington's nephew."

Roger always sees the funny side of things. He has no inhibitations of sending himself up and will relish an anecdote in which he comes out a fall guy.

In the mid-'fifties Roger was given the title role in "Ivanhoe", a British television series based on the Walter Scott classic. During a shooting we went to a party at the Moores' place in Kent. Roger was limping. "Got kicked by a horse on a location yesterday," he explained. "The horse obviously shares my opinion of the series."

Though Roger was obviously not satisfied with the parts he was getting, he never gave the impression that he considered them unworthy of his talents.

He was never big-headed or self-obsessed. He felt that his wife Dorothy was more gifted than he was, and he appreaciated her support. He was very concerned that that I did my best to promote her career and he made that she got good terms.

When we were not discussing Dorothy?s business affairs Roger and I still found plenty to talk about. He was what used to be called a "man's man" - a sportsman, like me, and a good card-player, particularly adept at grin rummy.

And another thing we had in common: we had both suffered from bad stomachas. I told him how my ulcers had prevented me joining up in the Second World War. Roger was also careful about what he ate, claiming that his first wife Dorn, an ice-skater, cooked so badly she had ruined his digestion.

The era of lavish parties with Dorothy and Roger ended when Roger went off to Hollywood again for more films and the "Alaskans" and "Maverick" series.

Lew Grade, by this time boss of ATV Television, contacted me with another suggestion for my Adonis friend. "We're going to make a series based on the Leslie Charteris character, the Saint. We want a big name, a handsome, active chap for the title role. You know Roger Moore. Why don't you get him to come over and do it?"

Obligingly ? and hoping to be a party to pleasant business arrangement ? I wrote a personal letter to Roger in Hollywood, but to my disappointment the reply came not from Roger himself but from a show-business agent who told me politely that Roger was "too busy" to consider the project.

Later, when Roger was fixed up to play the Saint, the deal was done by someone else. I never had an opportunity to do business with Roger. However, we stayed good friends, even after he parted from Dorothy in 1961. Dorothy went out of my life too. After I had represented her for many years we had an argument and agreed to disagree.

When Roger married his present wife, Luisa, I was one of the few wedding guests. At the time I was a widower. As soon as he knew I had married Irene, he insisted we all go out to dinner.

My daughters, Joan and Jackie, who first met Roger at those parties in Kent have remained good friends with him, are very fond of his wife, Luisa, and Joan is godmother to their son Christian.

Years ago, when he was starting to get famous, Roger told me, "I wish they would stop giving me parts where I have to fire a gun. Every time I fired one in my last series I blink, and they had to edit the film, taking the blink out."

This, I hasten to add, was before Roger became the screen's 007. I assume that with all the target practice he has had as James Bond, Roger has now overcome his blinking problem.

Not so long ago I was walking down Marylebone High Street one morning when a chauffeur-driven limousine drew up beside me. "Hi Joe! How's it going?"

Roger, whom I had not seen for a while, stopped his car and sent away the driver. We sat in a little coffee bar - the Stage Door, run by my friend Lew Lee - talking over old times, then he walked back home with me and telephoned for his car to pick him up.

After he left I had to face a furious showdown with the family "treasure", Doris "Dod" Hugill, and another woman who was our housekeeper at the time.

"Why didn't you ask us to make a coffee or something for you and Mr Moore? All the time you were with him we were sitting in the kitchen waiting."

"But we didn't want anything. We'd just had a coffee before we came home," I answered innocently.

"Oh, you are silly," chided Dodo. "You should have asked us for something just to give us a chance to come into the room ad have a good look at him."

Thanks to Bartosz Kazana

 

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