Books: Beloved Guv’nor

MY YEARS WITH CHURCHILL (167 pp.)—Norman McGowan—British Book Centre—($3.95).

In one of his more lighthearted utterances, Winston Churchill said: “All babies are like me.” The resemblance is more than superficial. Amidst the blooming, buzzing confusion which is an infant’s world. Churchill remained the calm eye of the nursery hurricane, demanding a child’s secure universe of bath (always at the same temperature), undisturbed nap, and steady liquid diet.

It was young Norman McGowan’s finest hour when he was called upon in 1949 to be Churchill’s valet and provide some of these necessary things. Recollecting his three years of service with the grand old man, McGowan has written an ingratiating book, seemingly almost by inadvertence. It is the English story on the classic theme of master and man that has been exploited by everyone from Shakespeare to Wodehouse. But no Jeeves is McGowan, no Wooster Churchill.

Kind Hearts & Coronas. McGowan was three years out of wartime sea duty when he was hired by the Churchills. Neither the Royal Navy nor the intense respectability of a good working-class family in Lancashire had prepared him for the oddities of the aristocracy. “Wow! Wow!” Mrs. Churchill would call from the hall at Chartwell, the Prime Minister’s residence, as she arrived home.

“Wow! Wow!” Winston would answer. “Dear cat.” he would say to his lady. “Dear pig.” she would reply. Lest the reader get the wrong impression, Norman is careful to explain that his beloved “Guv’nor” only said that sort of thing because he was very fond of animals.

About those cigars. The book discloses to the world that Churchill smoked them only halfway: it was Norman’s duty to collect the halves and take them in a special box to Kearns, one of the Chartwell gardeners, who smoked them in his pipe. Churchill smoked only nine cigars a day, says Norman, on the defensive about his guv’nor’s habits, but he admits they were strong enough to make Prince Georg of Denmark (a nonsmoker) violently sick after three puffs. As for whisky. Churchill was always at it. But Norman explains that the mixture (with soda) was weak, and ‘e probably didn’t drink hardly enough in a day to kill three lesser men.

Children & Pets. Norman stoutly affirms that one great man was a hero to his valet, but wryly suggests that he had to be a bit of a hero himself. From bath to bedtime (often a cup of “real” turtle soup at 2 or 3 a.m. ) he had to look after the greatest package of will power and energy in the Western world. Also, he had to clean paint brushes and look after the remarkable Churchill wardrobe. In the uniform department, it was one of the most splendid seen in Europe since the fall of the Bastille. For the rest. Churchill hated to get new clothes. A comfort lover down to his underclothes (silk), he felt most comfortable in shabby suits, and his best hat was 33 years old.

Churchill got on well with children and with pets, which he treated like backward, and therefore privileged, humans. His poodle Rufus. his cat Mickey, and a black goat that took a fancy to him as he was painting in Marrakech. were his special pals. And he could not bring himself to carve a Christmas goose. “You’ll have to carve it, Clemmie; this goose was a friend of mine,” he said to Mrs. Churchill.

Addicts of Churchilliana will read this valet’s valedictory for bits of backstage gossip like this, yet the book is more than just another footnote to the Churchill legend. It stands in its own right as a comedy of character. On foreign travel Norman hardly ever went to hear the guv’nor’s speeches—he heard enough of his master’s voice as it was. Yet Churchill always gravely consulted the young man after a speech: “I thought it went rather well, didn’t you?” Invariably, Norman would answer, “Yes sir, very well indeed.” Norman knew his place,

But what a place! There were times when, for all his kind heart. Winston would be bellowing for Norman’s blood—as once when the bath was too hot. How to deal with a man who kept rumbling in the tub? “Do you want me?” Norman would ask. “I wasn’t talking to you, Norman. I was addressing the House of Commons.” Winston would answer, and carry on with his muffled oratory while twiddling the taps with his toes.

Ex-Valet McGowan today works as a barman in Liverpool. On his showing, it could be gathered that any man who says a harsh word against his guv’nor will get a very short beer.