Lovechild and lessons in charity: the first biography of Sir Jimmy Savile is published
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Version 0 of 1. Jimmy Savile was a great one for cracking on with things, be they fund-raising or Fixing It, so he'd surely be pleased that his authorised biography is out within eight months of his death. It's the work of a specialist in the subject, the 'Jimmy Savile correspondent' of the Yorkshire Evening Post, Alison Bellamy, whose vast catalogue of stories about the great man were endlessly followed up by the media elsewhere. She has chosen one of his celebrated catchphrases as her title: <em>How's about that, then?</em>; and for going-on with, it's full of good things. When Savile died, Bellamy's news editor told her jokingly that she would be out of a job. The opposite is true. Fascination with the complex and impenetrable character from Consort Terrace in Woodhouse was never greater than in the succeeding weeks. Impenetrable he remains, however, with Bellamy concluding: I am not here to analyse Sir Jim, and after all, people are complicated. <br />Her friendship with him, like all the others whose details have emerged since his death, did not receive any encouragement from even the mildest tapping on what she calls his 'protective shell.' The likeliest target of further attention in the book is the chapter on Jimmy's Women, whose addition of an Avril to the widely-known Sue, Polly and others attracted the <em>Daily Mirror</em>'s enthusiasm this week. That in turn looks like leading to further titbits of information. The only comment on the article's thread so far is from the son of a Royal Marine who allegedly helped Savile to complete an endurance run after he collapsed three-quarters of the way through. Higher-profile issues remain mysterious, notably the truth or otherwise of the claims by Georgina Ray to have been fathered by Savile with a 19-year-old waitress in a camper van parked at the caff on the A5 near Cannock. Her search for 'closure' has held up probate of Savile's generous will. That side of the man emerges in detail from the book and it is something that he would have wanted covered; not out of vainglory but because of his intensely practical approach to raising money for good causes. Two striking things in Bellamy's first-hand account are Savile's indifference to children – indeed she says that "he openly disliked them"; and his lack of emotional involvement with the causes for which he did so much. In the short term, attempts to prise open his personal life will no doubt persist and attract interest. But in the longer, his character and methods may be much more interesting for those who puzzle and agonise over how to make philanthropy and charity effective and unsentimental instead of a feelgood palliative. <em><strong>How's about that, then</strong> is published by Great Northern Books. £16.99.</em> |