Frankie Howerd was a popular post war stand-up comedian, who survived many changes in the humor tastes of the British nation to remain a television favorite until his death in 1992. From an early age, he decided he wanted to be an actor, despite bouts of nervousness and a recurring stammer, but after suffering rejection from the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts, he decided instead to become a stand-up comic. However, this route seemed equally closed to him as he failed numerous auditions. During World War II he joined the army but failed to impress as an entertainer and was turned down by the military entertainment organization, ENSA (Entertainments National Service Association-but better known by the troops as Every Night Something Awful). This rejection, however, did not deter Howerd, who still performed for his comrades in arms, learning to control his stammer and develop a line of patter. Following the war, Howerd's rise was dramatic. He toured the provinces in a stage show, For the Fun of It, in 1946, and although placed at the bottom of the bill, he hit upon the clever ruse of changing his name from Howard to Howerd. This meant that his name was more noticeable simply because people assumed it was a misprint. And if the name was spelt incorrectly as the more normal Howard (an easy mistake), the comedian could complain and get some appeasement, perhaps larger lettering on the next poster or a longer spot, or even extra money.

     In 1947 Howerd presented his comedy act in the radio series Variety Bandbox and soon became a hit with the listening public. His comic persona was becoming defined. Influenced by the comedians of his time, especially his great idol Sid Field (one of Britain's greatest comic talents from the 1930s to his death in 1950), Howerd had, by the end of the 1940s, developed a strong style of his own. His tactic was to deliver jokes and appear in sketches almost reluctantly, as if forced there by circumstance. It was as if he had something better to do, and if the audience did not respond to the lines in the right way, then he did not care. Indeed, his offhand statement to such indifference, "Oh please yourself," became one of his great catchphrases, getting a huge laugh as the audience identified with the character.

     Success on radio increased Howerd's standing in the stage world, but many of the venues were shutting their doors as the era of music hall was drawing to an end. Sadly, as his stock rose, the circuit itself was closing down. Many of his comic contemporaries were crowding the radio waves, and some (such as Charlie Chester and Terry-Thomas) had even landed their own shows on the increasingly popular medium of television. In 1952 Howerd got his first television series, The Howerd Crowd, an hour-long entertainment with scripts by Eric Sykes. Howerd had a good face for television, long and lugubrious, and the small screen enabled him to use his exaggerated facial expressions to good effect. He appeared a few more times in that period, but he was about to enter one of the quiet phases of his career.

     Howerd made his feature film debut in 1954, a major role in The Runaway Bus, and he had a small but memorable part in The Ladykillers the following year; it was such film roles and occasional radio appearances that kept him occupied throughout the rest of the 1950s. His television career throughout this period was in the doldrums and, with each year bringing in less work than the year before, he seemed to be on a familiar path that led to obscurity. Then, in 1962, Howerd 's career was suddenly and dramatically resurrected when he did a stand-up routine for Peter Cook's Establishment Club, an American-style comedy cabaret club specializing in satire. With a script by Johnny Speight, Howerd was a big hit. It seemed his style of innuendo and ad-libbed asides had a place in the new world of anti-establishment comedy. The following year, How­ erd consolidated his revitalized reputation with an appearance on the BBC's controversial and groundbreaking satire series That Was the Week That Was. In the space of a year, he was reestablished as a major comedy star and became a familiar face on television as a guest star or leading artist in variety shows. He headlined his own show again, Frankie Howerd (1964-66), this time with scripts from Galton and Simpson, mixing an introductory stand-up routine with a long-form sketch that continued the same theme. Later, the series The Frankie Howerd Show (1969) was made by ATV for the ITV network, and Howerd also appeared in one-off entertainments such as The How­ erd Hour (1968) made by ABC for the ITV network.

     In 1970 Howerd had his biggest TV success with Up Pompeii! (BBC 1970), a period-piece sitcom set in ancient Pompeii and inspired by the American stage musical A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, in which Howerd had appeared (as Prologus and Pseudolus) in its British stage production. In 1969 a pilot episode of Up Pompeii! raised enough interest for the series to continue the following year. Howerd played the slave Lurcio, who commented on and got involved in the various comings and goings in his master's household. His master was Ludricrus Sextus, and most of the main characters in the plots had punnish names, such as Ammonia, Erotica, Nausius, and Prodigus. The shows (scripted by Talbot Rothwell, one of the writers of the bawdy Carry On ... film series) were peppered with innuendo and smutty references and also allowed Howerd free rein to talk directly to camera and deliver his typically weary asides about how awful the show was. This method of combining a pseudo-stand-up routine with plot-coupled with Howerd's conspiratorial relationship with the viewing audience, which allowed him to step in and out of character-gave the series a unique, almost theatrical feel that lingered long in the public psyche despite the fact that only 13 episodes were made (14 including the pilot). Such was its popularity that an Easter special, Further Up Pompeii!, aired on the BBC in 1975 and a revival, also called Further Up Pompeii!, was made by the commercial London Weekend Television in 1991. It also spawned a feature film version in 1971 (followed by two others on similar themes, a medieval romp, Up the Chastity Belt, in 1971, and a World War I version, Up the Front, in 1973). On TV the format was reworked as Frankie Howerd in Whoops Baghdad (BBC, 1973), which ran for six episodes and featured Howerd as Ali Oopla, bondservant to the Wazir of Baghdad.

     Howerd actually improved with age. His face, lined and wrinkled with doleful bags under his eyes, became even more expressive, allowing him to suggest any number of things with a raise of the eyebrow, his impossibly deep frown, or his wide-eyed aghast look. The face was perfectly fitted to his camp delivery, and his confidential asides and world-weary looks were given added authenticity. In 1975 Howerd appeared in an abortive pilot A Touch of the Casanovas for Thames TV, and he made the series The Howerd Confessions for the same company the following year. But British tastes were changing. The anarchic comedy wave that emerged in the wake of the punk rock phenomenon began to be taken seriously by television companies in the early 1980s, and there was a backlash against Howerd's sexual-innuendo style of humor in favor of full-frontal comedy attacks on taboo subjects. After his Yorkshire TV series Frankie Howerd Strikes Again (1981), Howerd once again found it harder to come by work. His 1982 sitcom Then Churchill Said to Me was made but shelved by the BBC; in 1985 he was chosen as front-man in an ill-fated and ill-timed attempt to make The Gong Show (Gambit productions for C4), a British version of the successful U.S. show.

     However, some of the younger audiences began to rediscover and reassess the old comedians, and Howerd once again found himself back in favor-achieving success appearing before rapturous college students comparable to that which he had earlier enjoyed at the Establishment Club. Indeed, evidence of How­ erd's regained popularity can be found from his appearance in 1987 on LWT's live new-wave comedy showcase Saturday Live; it meant that the producers considered Howerd "hip" enough for their audience. Although this appearance did not have the sort of impact his previous comeback (on TW3) had had, it nonetheless heralded another revival, and he again was a regular face on TV as he appeared in the young peo­ ple's sitcom All Change (Yorkshire TV, 1989). A series of his concerts were filmed for television, the most revealing of which was Live Frankie Howerd on Campus (LWT, 1990). Howerd, back in demand, was as busy as ever.

     Two revealing TV documentaries contain much of the essence of Howerd's style and craft: 1990's Ooh Er, Missus-The Frankie Howerd Story from Arena (the BBC's art documentary series) and Thames Tele­ vision's Heroes of Comedy-Frankie Howerd (1995).