NUMBER 96

Number 96 was the legendary Australian serial set in a Sydney block of flats that combined melodramatic storylines, larger-than-life high-camp characters, large doses of comedy and - most famously - sex.

The series was set in a four storey apartment block in inner suburban Paddington. The building consisted of six flats - two on each level - that sat above a ground floor delicatessen and a chemist shop - each with their own flat. Storylines examined the lives of the various residents and the shopkeepers. The deli, along with a nearby pub and laundrette, (as well as the busy stair well) provided central locations for the various characters to mix and congregate. Early on in the series the chemist shop was converted to a wine bar which became the primary meeting place for the show’s characters and assorted visitors, and the pub was phased out of the series. Also seen on a regular basis was the Red Baron cocktail bar and restaurant where any special dates and nights out always seemed to occur.

The series had its genesis when Ian Holmes, the then program manager at Channel Ten, decided he wanted a new, Coronation Street style serial for the fledgling channel. The British soap had been successfully screened on Channel Nine during Holmes’ time there and Channel Ten, which had begun operation only six years earlier, was in a serious financial position and desperately needed a hit. Holmes specified that the new series be set in a tight-knit community of some sort. “Sexuality and other previously taboo subjects had been part of the brief,” said Holmes. “It had to have dramatic impact in breaking new ground, not in violent situations but in sexual situations which we believed were handled fairly puritanically here, as they were in America.” The Reg Grundy Organisation and independent producers Don Cash and Bill Harmon were each asked to produce a concept. Cash-Harmon employed the services of writer David Sale, who created the premise, the characters, and dreamt up the title. Holmes was suitably impressed with the Cash-Harmon treatment, and the rest is history. [1] Producer Don Cash, however, would not live long enough to fully witness the groundbreaking show’s impact, dying in 1973. Bill Harmon, the creative force in the team, would continue to produce the show alone.

THE OPENING EPISODES

The series premiered in Sydney on the evening of 13 March 1972 with a ninety-minute special comprising the first three episodes of the serial, while the first two episodes made-up a one hour episode for the Melbourne premier the following night. [2] As regular broadcasting got underway the series went to air stripped as five thirty minute episodes a week at 8.30 PM - making it the world’s first night-time soap opera to be broadcast each weeknight. The black-and-white drama was recorded on videotape, with the production rarely leaving the confines of the studio. A real Sydney apartment block, at 83 Moncur Street in Woollahra, was pictured in the opening titles and end credits sequences. In the early years of the series it was used for location shooting on only rare and isolated occasions.

Episode one opens with a brief exterior shot of the building with a removal van parked outside as the title appears, and the shrieking voice of a middle-aged woman named Dorrie Evans (Pat McDonald) is heard - something that would become mighty familiar to ongoing viewers of the show. True to form she is saying, of the new arrivals, “No Herb I said no! We’ll see them when they have had a chance to settle in!” This would not be the last time viewers would hear Dorrie nagging at Herb!

Quickly introduced are the new arrivals: young couple Helen and Mark Eastwood (played by Briony Behets and Martin Harris) who have moved into flat 4 of the building. Beautiful blond Helen is eight months pregnant and wears a maternity mini-dress. Dorrie Evans and her husband Herb (Ron Shand) quickly drop in and Dorrie launches into a stream of derisive remarks - eyeing the couple up and down in the packing-box strewn apartment she pointedly intones “well you have been busy” - as if a married couple living together was somehow sinful. Viewers quickly learn that the retired Evans couple are active members of the local Senior Citizens club, and that having lived in the house that previously occupied the site where Number 96 now stands Herb and Dorrie have simply stayed on. Herb seems kind and friendly, however the rather strident Dorrie clearly presents herself as an inquisitive and interfering gossip, and as Mark observes to Dorrie “you still regard this whole block as your own.” Herb and Dorrie quickly leave, with Dorrie excusing herself with a pointed “we will leave you to get on with it”, and indeed Mark does get on with it. He attempts to seduce Helen on the living room couch provoking her abrupt rebuttal leading to an angry and frustrated outburst from Mark. Living up to its reputation Number 96 featured a controversial sex scene – Mark running his hand up a mini-skirted Helen’s bare leg - before the first ever commercial break. In fact censors cut the attempted seduction, and in the extant copies of the episode viewed today the segment of the shot containing Mark running his hand up Helen’s leg and her rejection of him is excised, leaving a jump cut from kiss to argument.

Next to be introduced are young flatmates Bev Houghton (Abigail), a harbour cruise hostess, and Janie Somers (Robyn Gurney), a struggling actor. Bev is in hotpants and thigh-high boots, with a waistcoat over a see-through blouse. She playfully models for Janie, explaining that this is the costume for her photographic session with neighbour Bruce Taylor (Paul Weingott) who plans to sell the snaps to Mod Photography magazine. Meanwhile in the building’s ground-floor delicatessen Dorrie and Herb discuss with deli owner Aldo the new neighbours, while another customer and fellow resident Vera Collins (Elaine Lee) politely, but openly, disapproves of Dorrie’s judgemental demeanour. Dorrie is silenced as Helen enters and meets her new neighbours. When Vera leaves Dorrie pointedly says to Helen “I’d keep away from Vera Collins if I were you! She’s bad news. Very bad news!”

After the first advertisement break Alf and Lucy Sutcliffe, immigrants from Lancashire, England who live in flat 8, are introduced. Their background is delivered swiftly and immediately: a whining Alf complains about both Lucy’s spending and about Australia as a whole. He insists he wants to return to the UK, while she wants to get a job. We learn they have a married son with a young child who live interstate.

Overall the storylines move along very quickly with background information delivered at a rapid rate, although it does not seem forced or artificial, being incorporated into introduction conversations with the newly arrived Eastwood couple, or via arguments. As the story moves forward Mark comes to the deli looking for Helen, but finds Aldo’s willowy daughter Rose (Vivienne Garrett) serving behind the counter. She seems dazzled by him and impressed by his profession of schoolteacher. Their exchange reveals an instant attraction, the dialogue and action infused with sexual tension. Mark helps out by lifting a heavy crate of produce and Rose is clearly smitten.

Further background exposition is revealed when Vera reads Helen’s fortune with playing cards. Vera is perturbed when Helen’s cards repeatedly portend doom. Meanwhile Vera quietly admits to Helen that she reads fortunes for money even though it is illegal to earn a living from it, reasoning that “believe me there are worse ways!” Those ways, she explains, involve latching onto men who, after they have had their fun give you the boot, and while the show never explicitly states it, an image of prostitution is vividly evoked by this description. In flat 5 Bev is seen modelling for Bruce, and as she slips off the vest to reveal the see-through, Bruce’s “flatmate” Don Finlayson (Joe Hasham) arrives home in a smart suit and with a briefcase. Don, we learn, is a final year law student and an article clerk.

Upcoming storylines are introduced as Aldo dreams of opening a restaurant while Vera tells Lucy of the laundrette about to open up the street that will be looking for staff. Lucy is thrilled with the idea of obtaining a job there, triumphantly announcing to Vera that “I’ll be able to watch everyone washing their dirty linen, in public!” Finally Cliff Stevens (Vincent Gil), a biker friend of Rose’s, pays her a surprise visit in the deli having waited for Aldo to leave. When Cliff sexually assaults Rose in the parlour of flat 2 a heroic Mark answers her calls for help and storms in to the rescue.

Each episode’s opening titles and end credit sequences were simple yet effective. Suggestive of a peek into the lives other people, the opening titles sequence is a brief shot of the building exterior as the audio of the previous episode’s closing scene is heard. The shot zooms in on the front window of the flat in which that action occurs as the program title appears on screen, before the vision switches to show that scene. The end credits sequence involves similar close-up shots on the building exterior. In this sequence the shot pulls in for a close-up on the front of the deli and then pans from one flat to the other, with the actors credited over the shot of the flat where their character resides.

Ensuing episodes had Vera plagued by hang-up phone calls while Bev had the opposite problem and endured a series of telephone arguments with her apparently wealthy, disapproving and censorious unseen mother. Mark Eastwood caved in to his desires and soon tumbles into bed with a willing Rose Godolfus. His wife Helen walks in on them and storms out of the flat in horror, only to tumble down the stairs and lose her baby. Helen disappeared for a while and then returned suffering a mental block where she still believed herself pregnant. Vera’s phantom caller was revealed as her husband Harry (Norman Yemm) who had walked out on her a year before. He returns and rapes her, after which she unwisely attempts to revive her marriage. This is despite Harry being openly racist, clashing with new Number 96 resident, the African American Chad Farrell (Ronne Arnold), while encouraging neighbour Alf to engage in long drinking sessions much to his wife Lucy’s irritation.

Busty Bev and her propensity for wearing sexy hotpants, for going braless, and for posing for Bruce’s glamour photographs, attracts the scorn of resident gossip Dorrie, who observes that “All those perverts we keep reading about in the papers, they’d all be coming around to Number 96 peeping in the windows to see Beverly without her clothes on!” Bev presents herself as a wise and experienced girl, warning flatmate Janie, who is desperate for a role in a new play, that the intentions of producer Alex Lederer (Harry Harris) are less than honourable. While Bev’s warnings to Janie are presented in a wise and world-weary manner, she is in fact secretly a virgin nervous about sex. Unfortunately, it is Bev herself who raises Alex’s pique. In a violent and feverish scene in her bedroom he throws Bev naked onto her bed angrily screaming that she is a “marvel virgin” and a “whore” who leads men on but does not follow through. He promises that “I’m going to give you something to remember me by” and raises his hand to hit her. Apparently the censors didn’t want us to remember it, and the vision is censored. As screened today, as Alex raises his hand the shot switches to black while Bev’s screams can he heard on the soundtrack. Vision returns briefly on a shot of a crying Bev just in time for the credits to roll.

In other developments we learn that a large proportion of Bruce Taylor’s rent is being paid by his rapacious boss, magazine editor Maggie Cameron (Bettina Welch). Trapped in an unhappy marriage, Maggie keeps Bruce in flat 5 with the intention of seducing him. What she does not realise is that Bruce is gay, and has secretly brought his boyfriend Don Finlayson to live with him. Don is outraged to learn that Bruce had lied about the amazingly cheap rent: in fact Maggie herself is covering much of the cost so as to have Bruce on tap when she calls in for some intensive work “designing magazine layouts”. Likewise she is horrified to learn of Don’s existence, initially ordering Bruce to throw him out. Bruce refuses, while skilfully dodging her various attempts to seduce him. Later, when Maggie’s husband learns of her affair with Bruce, he throws her out and announces his plans to divorce her. Meanwhile Bruce has abruptly decamped for Adelaide. Maggie moves in to flat 5 - her name is on the lease after all - and while a shocked Don fears that he’ll be out on the street unable to find such affordable accommodation anywhere else, a grinning Maggie allows him to stay. Despite having earlier observed that “Maggie is a bitch of the first order” Don reluctantly agrees to the arrangement. Maggie quickly settles into her new home, and in sharply written and brilliantly acted scenes she’s jubilantly mixing strong Martinis for Don while warning that any of his young gentleman callers will be fair game if he allows them to fall into her clutches, declaring that “when it comes to well-built young men I’ve got claws like an eagle!” In an earlier clash Bruce had suggested that she should “stop acting like Joan Crawford - it doesn’t suit you!” provoking Maggie to quip that “1940s shoulder pads and slaps across the face never did suit me.” Yet such an image seems to suit her perfectly, and with the crisp acting the bitchy ripostes and witty repartee one almost expects George Sanders and Bette Davis to swan in from the next room at any minute.

When the series began the producers were unsure of how long it might continue, and original cast member Elisabeth Kirkby recalled that the original cast of regulars was initially offered contracts running just six weeks. [3] The series debut was publicised as the “night Australian TV lost its virginity” due to its nude glimpses and taboo-breaking storylines exploring such topics as rape-within-marriage, adultery and homosexuality. The show was an instant success, Channel Ten was saved, and a bunch of previously unknown stage actors and comedy and vaudeville performers were suddenly turned into superstars.

SEX AND THE SCRIPTING

Much of the early attention seemed connected to the program’s frank depictions of sexual matters. Though the show does not seem prurient or exploitative, the Broadcasting Control Board objected to some elements of the program, and they ordered that several shots be excised from the opening episodes. The show’s first episode had gone to air uncensored in Sydney, provoking complaints from Sydney viewers about the sex scenes. [4] For all subsequent broadcasts as the episodes were rolled out to other parts of Australia, including Melbourne which would begin broadcasting the series in the days following the Sydney premiere, several shots were missing from episodes. Cuts were made in scenes where Mark runs his hand up his wife’s leg, where Mark is shown sitting in bed with Rose, and where a naked Rose is shown topless in bed before pulling the sheet up to her chin. Of this censorship producer Don Cash told TV Week that the Control Board displayed “a lot of nerve.” Cash explained that “We have not been involved in cutting anything from the series. We produce the series and then it’s up to the 0-10 Network to do what it wants. We have to bow to bureaucracy and are quite philosophical about it. There are a lot of wise people protecting the morals of the people and who are we to fight them.” The same article reported that in the five or so weeks since the series began the 0-10 Network had reported being inundated with telephone calls - about a quarter of which were critical of the series. In two days, the Sydney station had received 200 calls with about a third of these critical of the series. [5]

Brian Phillis, one of the main directors on the series, later described the program’s use of sex and nudity for TV Week. “In the early days, with Abigail, we were after titillation. We were constantly pushing out all the barriers and testing the water, seeing how far we could go, how nude we could get. There was a lot of hot air from the Festival of Light people in the early days. They even stood outside Channel Ten in Sydney with placards. But it all died down. I think there’s obviously an element who can’t wait to be outraged.” But despite the complaints, the program attracted extremely high viewing figures. “For the first nine months, it rated somewhere between 35 and 40. It finished with nothing more to show. The law was you could show everything but genitals - but toward the end of the show we even showed that.” Phillis could recall only one topic that was banned outright: necrophilia. “But I think at one stage even that was hinted at.” [6]

Years later cast member Elisabeth Kirkby offered her own opinion on why the series found instant popularity, and in her opinion it wasn’t really due to the sex and nudity. “The show was held together by the fact that the six main characters were all middle-aged, and this gave it an appeal to the older audience. Also I think the older members of the audience immediately recognised somebody they knew in the older characters. They knew a pommie like Alf who couldn’t hold a job and was always whingeing and whining about how terrible Australia was and … they could recognise a Flo and Dorrie as two good friends who spent all their time arguing.” [7]

Creator David Sale wrote the show’s first dozen episodes, after which a team of writers took over. “I feel very protective about the characters and how they should be written,” Sale later told TV Week. “I still go to story conferences and shout a lot. I have often fought to preserve my idea of how a certain character should be presented.” After the program had been on air several months Sale offered his opinion on why the show had become so successful: “I think the program’s popularity lies in its realistic approach. The characters and the situations are real and people at home can identify with them.” [8]

Johnny Whyte, who had written scripts for UK programs Emergency Ward Ten and Z-Cars, and had scripted four episodes of UK soap opera Coronation Street in the early 1960s, would serve as script editor for Number 96. [9] Whyte said of the new series that “right from the start it was a gamble. The whole concept of the series was something so incredibly new that it was an enormous task. The original brief asked for two episodes a week, but early on in pre-production the network asked for the series to be stripped five nights a week, a change that required many changes to the show’s production organisation. Finding writers was probably the hardest thing. There are any number of good writers around, but finding writers who could interpret the ideas we had for Number 96 was something of a problem. I, as script editor, came up with the outlines for the various characters and situations for those first episodes and it was up to the writers to interpret them”. [10]

In 1973 writer Eleanor Witcombe described to TV Week her work as a script writer on Number 96. Witcombe was at that time one of a team of six regular writers on the series, all of whom were graduates of sketch comedy series The Mavis Bramston Show. Witcombe herself had spent three years scripting for that series, and said that this experience influenced the style of scripts for Number 96, with each of its scenes being concise, sharp, and each having a punch line. She also explained the writing procedure behind the series. The script editor and synopsis writer plan 25 episodes at a time, and the scriptwriters are assigned five episodes each, with a fortnight to complete them. Scriptwriters received $350 an episode. Witcombe described the script writing process on the show as “hard, high-pressure, round-the-clock work. You go from flat to flat (of the fictional apartment block), advancing the story for each character, ringing the other writers at midnight to check some detail of the part they are preparing. You juggle the characters so that no performer appears in more than three episodes a week. The five episodes - two-and-a-half hours of television - are shot in five working days. There are 15 scenes per episode; no scene can take longer than 20 minutes to block out, rehearse, and tape. It demands the highest standard of professionalism from the entire crew.” Witcombe defended the show’s sex scenes and nudity, telling TV Week “I don’t think sex or nudity is wrong. Are we expected to show people showering with their clothes on? It’s a fact of life that people go to bed with each other. We try not to be prurient or offensive, we’re conscious of our young audience,” she said. Of these youngsters Witcombe commented “The kids like 96 because, unlike its critics, they understand its secret - it’s a comedy.” [11]

In terms of the show’s sex and nudity, one of the problems early on was that the board had not laid down guidelines of what the series could show, while Network Ten had instructed the show’s producers to “sail as close to the wind as you can”. [12] Even a rather innocuous comedy sequence where a young hippie couple disrobe in the laundrette to wash their clothes brought a barrage of complaints. [13] This sequence, which has been repeated several times in televised retrospectives on the serial, featured actor Chard Hayward - later to return in the regular role of Dudley Butterfield - as a chilled out hippie, while model Cathy Jones played his equally languid girlfriend. In the scene Alf brings Lucy a lunch of fish and chips to the laundrette. As she tucks in Alf notices two patrons stripping off their clothes and putting them into a washing machine. Alf feigns interest in Lucy’s lengthy description of the weird and flamboyant types that frequent the laundrette while furtively enjoying the background stripping display. When the nearly-nude hippies front up to Lucy to report a faulty washer she rushes to get them covered up, while Alf doesn’t seem too concerned at all. Producer Don Cash defended the laundromat scene, telling TV Week that “It was meant to be funny. It had a purpose for being there, to make people laugh. If anyone could be upset with that then there is something wrong - and as far as I’m concerned they can go dig themselves into a big hole.” [14] Indeed the scene itself is funny with the distant disrobing while an oblivious Lucy chatters away and Alf leers. And while both hippies strip right down to bikini briefs, except for a brief distant glimpse in wide-shot, the topless woman’s nipples remain concealed; her habit of crossing her arms in front of her or standing back to camera ensures that the comic scene never gets too raunchy.

As the series progressed there would be scattered instances of censorship of a scene. “The first few episodes actually included bleeped out pieces and fade out scenes which the board imposed,” said Johnny Whyte in 1976. “For a while we had a little man from Melbourne sitting in on production to keep an eye on us. The board imposed article 101 of their regulations, which says that they can view each episode before it goes to air. It happened on two occasions that they imposed the restriction.” Once right at the beginning, and then one other time for a 1975 episode,” said Whyte. “As far as I can recall, Article 101 hadn’t been used previously and hasn’t been used since.” [15] In a separate article, TV Week reported other instances of censorship in the show’s early years. The black mass scene involving devil worshippers in late 1972 was excised. At around the same time several episodes dealing with prostitution were heavily censored by the Control Board. According to TV Week, after the black mass incident the Board reinstated the previewing of episodes before broadcast, which continued until March 1973. Then, in June 1973, the Board leapt into action again after other risqué scenes were taped. Their report of the incident stated that “In June, two segments showing practices associated with sexual aberrations were, at the board’s discretion, deleted from the program, and channel TEN was informed that the inclusion of similar material would again lead to the previewing of the program by the board.” [16]

THE FIRST YEAR PROGRESSES

Cast member Abigail was the show’s first breakout star. As the story progressed her character, the beautiful Bev, was revealed as a virgin nervous about sex. Then she fell in love with her law-student neighbour Don not realising that he was gay, and he was forced to confess all when she attempted to seduce him. Traumatised by Don’s revelation she locked herself away in her flat, finally prompting a visit from her imperious mother, Point Piper socialite Claire Houghton (Thelma Scott), previously known only via Bev’s frequent argumentative telephone conversations with her as overheard by Janie and most visitors to flat 6. Claire’s first visit to Number 96 dominated the episode. Finding Bev’s abode locked Claire called in on Dorrie and Herb, hoping to borrow the spare key. With Dorrie sorting through the donated stock for an upcoming jumble sale the flat is an embarrassing mess, and Claire is horrified when Dorrie assumes she is there to donate some old clothes. After the introductions Dorrie is thrilled to finally meet Mrs Houghton. “Oh, Mrs Houghton! You’ve come all the way down here”, gushes Dorrie. “Well it isn’t all that far down. Mind you I am speaking geographically”, Claire imperiously intones. Despite her reservations about the apartment block where Bev chooses to live, Claire seems to have no objections to the “Jewish man” she met on the way in, and when she learned Bev’s turmoil was due to falling in love with a homosexual law clerk, it was only his lowly profession that Claire was concerned with. Now had it been a gay fashion designer or interior designer that would have been a different matter, reasoned Claire, and such a union might well have made a workable marriage.

In their historic first meeting Dorrie had trilled “Oh, Mrs Houghton. It’s so nice to finally meet you!” provoking Claire’s reply of “ ‘Finally’? Let’s hope that’s the operative word!” This all went right over an impressed Dorrie’s head, and luckily for the viewers of the show it wasn’t their final meeting; Claire would continue to make sporadic appearances in each year the series ran, continuing long after Bev’s final appearance in the show. On Claire’s first meeting with Dorrie she had referred to her as the building’s concierge, which a thrilled Dorrie immediately picked-up on, even if she mispronounced it as “conserge”. Thereafter, Dorrie’s self-proclaimed status as “conserge” of Number 96 became one of the show’s most famous jokes.

Bev herself would finally lose her virginity to ladies’ man and loveable rogue Jack Sellars (Tom Oliver). Eventually their romance faltered after a furious Jack discovered Bev in bed with her adult brother Rod Houghton (John Benton) and got the wrong idea. A traumatised Bev abruptly left for a trip to the United States. Several weeks later Bev returned to Number 96 married to an American businessman. Abigail’s impact in the series was so great that folklore today suggests that she was not only the first woman to appear topless on Australian TV but that she was one of Number 96’s most uncovered stars. However at various times Abigail has played-down her reputation for getting her gear off on camera. In 1976 she insisted that the closest she ever came to a nude scene in the early sequence from the first episode where she posed for photographer neighbour Bruce Taylor in hot-pants and a see-through blouse. At other times Abigail spoke of her brief flashes of naked breast and bottom in the show, as seen when Alex threw her naked onto her bed in a violent scene depicting a sexual assault on Bev. Whatever was or wasn’t shown on Number 96, Abigail did pose nude for Australian Playboy magazine in 1980.

Also sometimes shedding her clothes was Vera Collins (Elaine Lee) who lived alone in flat 7. The warm and sophisticated Vera was devised as “everyone’s friend”. Unfortunately for her, she was also friend to a long stream of unsuitable men, enduring a series of rather unwise, and ultimately disastrous, romantic entanglements in her quest to find true love. Several attempts to rekindle her relationship with estranged husband Harry Collins failed, and Vera embarked upon various ill-fated affairs. Her unions with tough mobsters, ruthless businessmen, youthful gigolos, married men, closet homosexuals and other unworthy or untenable types always ended in heartache, and Vera would be raped twice more as the story continued.

Vera initially read tarot cards for a living, but as the story progressed would be seen working as a designer in the clothing fashion industry or even as secretary to Don. Later, in the feature film, it was explicitly stated for the only time that Vera had once worked as a prostitute. Despite her later career as a fashion designer, Vera often seemed to wear poorly constructed apparel, with all three rapes including graphic scenes of Vera’s rather flimsy clothing being torn off to reveal her voluptuous nude form.

As the series progressed the scheming Maggie Cameron moved out of flat 5 but remained a friend, a business associate, and often a rival of Vera’s. However she was openly despised by most of the building’s other residents, particularly Don, with whom she had many business and personal clashes. A ruthless businesswoman who often regretted her bitchiness and devious schemes, Maggie finally secured ownership of Number 96 and thereafter made several attempts to oust the residents, or take over the wine bar that would be established in the building. The character of Maggie was created with Bettina Welch in mind to play the part after series creator David Sale saw her in the science fiction series Phoenix 5. For her portrayal of the man-hungry schemer, Welch drew inspiration from Anne Bancroft’s portrayal of Mrs Robinson in Mike Nichols’ 1967 film The Graduate. “She underplayed the part of a nasty grabbing woman beautifully,” Welch told TV Week, “I tried to model my characterisation on her a little bit and I think I’ve been successful.” [17]

Overseeing these activities was Dorrie Evans, a screeching modern-day Mrs Malaprop who emerged as the show’s most popular character, with her portrayer Pat McDonald winning the Best Actress Logie Award in 1973, 1974 and 1976, and the 1974 Gold Logie for Australia’s most popular female television personality, for the role. [18] Constantly trying the patience of her hen-pecked but usually cheerful husband Herb, Dorrie immediately became a national joke though her disapproving ways, endless gossip, and her attempts to interfere in the lives of the various residents. Though initially an unsympathetic and rather malicious gossip who seemed to take sadistic glee in the situation of a horrified Helen catching Mark and Rose in bed together, Dorrie Evans was soon converted to a comedy character, someone we could chuckle at rather than despise.

Dorrie’s mangling of the language provided many of the laughs. Of her many signature lines, one of the most repeated was “I am quite ardimant about that!” At various points in the story she was heard to describe her “last will and testicles”, to advise apparently duped characters to “stop being so knave”, to bring an argument to impasse by conceding “we have reached stable mate”, or to butt in with “pardon me for protruding”. Of conducting an intensive search Dorrie, “or whatever it is she chooses to call herself”, declared she would leave “no stone upturned”, the genuine article was described as being “bony fido”, and while making an inventory of a stock of American Indian artefacts she would note the presence of “scrotum poles”. “It was a well-known fact” that all of this was “flying in the face of nature”, and enough to drive anybody “beresk”.

With Don Finlayson emerging as the hero of the piece all the residents of Number 96 accepted his sexuality without question. While in the opening episodes Dorrie had initially harboured “suspicions” about the relationship between “flatmates” Don and Bruce, the writers soon realised it would be much funnier if chronically confused Dorrie remained completely oblivious to the truth. Just a few weeks into the storyline with Bev discovering that Don was gay she angrily screamed down the stairwell that “Don Finlayson’s queer!” When the flat 3 door opens it seems Dorrie had heard this cry, yet in the next episode she is dithering about the racket, muttering that “it was something about Don Finlayson being queer… you know I saw him earlier and he looked perfectly alright to me!” Through the show’s entire run Dorrie never realised that Don was in fact gay, even if everyone else seemed fully aware of - and completely blasé about - the fact. Though Dorrie would remain a gossip, she became a harmless one. She frequently got her facts all wrong, and with her constant malapropisms it was difficult to take her too seriously. Certainly none of the other characters paid much attention to her antics, and ironically, Dorrie often seemed to be the last to know. Appropriately, “Why wasn’t I told?!” became perhaps Dorrie’s most famous catch phrase, and yet she seemed the only character never to realise why.

Another popular comic character was bumbling Hungarian Jew, Aldo Godolfus, who ran the ground floor delicatessen. Though somewhat a comedy character with some humorous mannerisms and his own comic mangling of the English language, the character was well played by comedy actor Johnny Lockwood, who managed to evoke both humour and pathos with the portrayal. Said his portrayer, “Aldo was originally a Greek character. But I told them, ‘I can’t do Greek’, so he became a Jewish-Hungarian.” [19] However, despite this switch, no one thought to change the character’s supposedly Greek-sounding name. The producers had initially asked Lockwood to grow a moustache for the role, but he refused so the show’s make-up artists added a big bushy fake moustache for taping. Lockwood’s wavy hair was also slicked-down for the role. Lockwood’s differing appearance away from the show allowed him some degree of anonymity in public; as he told TV Week “I realised that if I had the moustache I would be exactly like Aldo and I would be the target for people the whole time.” [20] Lockwood had nothing but good things to say about the show. “How can anyone disagree with success? This is one of the most professionally planned series ever to be made in this country. When we launched the whole of the 0-10 Network was behind it. It was sold on sex and sensationalism which made people watch it. That way it got a bigger audience than could have been expected. But of course it had to prove itself. And it did. Eventually it had to show evidence of talent by the performers and good scripts. The producers, Bill Harmon and the late Don Cash, had hand-picked everyone for the series and they were the right people for the roles. The initial ballyhoo got people watching and because the product was a good one they bought it.” [21]

Aldo faced much turmoil as daughter Rose had an affair with her married upstairs neighbour, then fell in with the wrong crowd and smoked marijuana before being raped, prompting him to wish they were back in the old country. Concerning Rose’s drug use, Johnny Whyte reports that “The [Broadcasting] Control Board was very strict with that scene and we weren’t allowed to show Rose enjoying the smoke. It had to have her being forced to smoke it and being sick.” [22] They were not the only ones concerned with Rose’s activities. Her portrayer Vivienne Garrett sometimes objected to playing in salacious scenes, especially to the implication that Rose might have actually enjoyed being raped, and after five months she broke her contract to leave the series. [23] In the story Rose was married off to nice Jewish doctor Julian Myers (Lew Luton) and left Number 96. Meanwhile Aldo concentrated on his romance with restaurant owner Roma Lubinski (Philippa Baker). Aldo and Roma eventually married to run the deli and to experience endless confusion in their attempts to incorporate English-language phrases and metaphors into their daily conversation, emerging as long running comic favourites.

Alf and Lucy Sutcliffe also emerged as key characters in the program’s on-going storylines. The bright and down-to-earth Lucy had Alf’s constant whining and his late night drinking binges to contend with, along with a long series of dramatic health concerns, though confiding in close friend Vera Collins brought her some consolation. Lucy endured a dangerous eye operation with a cliff hanger unbandaging that implied she had gone blind (it was later revealed she was only temporarily blinded by the surgery), a breast cancer scare, and a troubled unplanned pregnancy to deal with. The Friday night episode leading up to Monday’s revelation that Lucy’s tumour was benign proved to be Number 96’s highest rated episode to that time. Though known for his self centred whining and staggering home drunk, the sometimes insensitive Alf would always come through when the chips were down. Through her job working in the laundrette, one of the meeting places for the show’s characters, Lucy was always up to date with the comings and goings of Number 96 and was sometimes a recipient of gossip and rumour, even if Lucy herself never put much stock in such malicious banter.

The series presented a seamless mix of comedy and drama, yet within this scheme the Sutcliffes seemed to occupy a special place. While the comedy characters would sometimes drift into a dramatic storyline, they usually stayed in comedy mode. Likewise when characters such as Vera or Don were dragged into a comic moment they usually played it straight and sustained an air of bemused detachment. However while superficially the Sutcliffes seemed like comedy characters with their stereotypical thick Northern English accent and dialect, their banter and their minor squabbles, a large number of their storylines were serious and dramatic - for which the sometimes comic pair would seamlessly switch into straight dramatic mode and present a compelling dramatic piece.

Early in the storyline the mysterious brother and sister team of Gordon and Sonia Vansard (played by Joe James and Lynn Rainbow) arrived to set up a chemist shop in the building’s vacant ground floor shop front across from the deli, and they lived in flat 1 behind their shop. It was soon learned that Gordon was secretly a doctor who had performed abortions, he was estranged from his wife and two sons, and that Sonia was his live-in girlfriend, not his sister. Sonia was eager to marry Gordon who claimed he was reluctant to divorce his wife, the bitchy Sylvia Vansard (Shirley Cameron), due to her threat to disallow contact with his sons. Later she triumphantly arrived to visit Sonia and announce that she refused to grant Gordon a divorce (in the days before the “no fault” divorce laws), apparently out of spite for being deserted.

Amongst this turmoil Sonia had fallen in love with new neighbour, the African American teacher Chad Farrell (Ronne Arnold) who was now boarding with Mark and Helen Eastwood. In a series of thoughtfully written and acted storylines Chad experienced much racism during his time at Number 96, while remaining cheerfully accepting of it, much to Mark’s frustration. The storyline featured what is perhaps television’s first ever interracial kiss between lovers Chad and Sonia in another taboo breaking scene. Chad would soon leave Number 96 when he moved to the outback to teach Aboriginal children. Mark and Helen Eastwood also left the series after several weeks.

Despite the show’s reputation for saucy sex scenes, high camp dramatics and broad comedy, the show’s early episodes were largely played straight with their emphasis on basic drama, relationship storylines, and character studies. Though tied to its same set of interiors and with lengthy, wordy scenes, the dialogue was sharp, stories moved quickly, and the scenes were well played giving episodes the feel of a television play. Though many of the topics explored in the storylines might have been considered sensational in themselves, they were not presented in a prurient or leering manner, and the series brought such rarely discussed subjects as rape, infidelity, divorce, racism, intolerance, drug use and homosexuality into many homes for the very first time. Actor Elisabeth Kirkby observed that the travails of her character Lucy served to both entertain and to educate the show’s audience. Of Lucy’s breast cancer scare Kirkby explained that “in a subtle way we emphasised the importance of a woman going to her family doctor for a check-up if she detects and abnormalities in her breasts. Many women are scared of having cancer check-ups and I hope that seeing Lucy’s reaction gave them a little encouragement and understanding. People at home can identify with the characters in Number 96, and therefore they are more likely to learn from watching the program than from, say, watching a medical documentary on the same subject.” Kirby went on to praise other elements of the show. “When the homosexuality theme was introduced, it was done in such a way that the audience couldn’t possibly dislike the characters. It simply made some people aware that homosexuals aren’t lepers - but ordinary people. The same applies for situations such as the one where Rose became involved in drug taking. Parents must realise how easy it is for their children to get involved in drugs. Surely this must make them more conscious of the problem and more tolerant and more understanding of their kids.” However Kirkby saw the show as more than just educational. “It really is such good entertainment, something is happening every second. And the ratings prove that people watch it,” she said. [24] In a similar vein, Johnny Whyte observed that while the rape of Vera by her estranged husband Harry provoked a huge public outcry, that it “helped awaken the consciousness of people about rape within marriage.” [25]

Overall Whyte noted while the series was initially motivated to showcase previously taboo topics as part of its drive to achieve high ratings, that the explorations of these subjects “helped to bring these subjects into open discussion within the home.” [26] Notable was the show’s inclusion of a gay character, an Australian TV drama first in 1972. The character of Don was presented as a normal person in a normal job, who just happened to be gay. Whyte observed that it was Don’s overall normalcy that seemed to shock viewers the most. Said Whyte, “homosexuals had always been presented before in overseas shows as figures of fun. Now here was one being presented sensitively as a person with a normal lifestyle. Gradually as the months wore on you could sense the acceptance by the audience as they identified with Don and his problems. I like to think that Joe Hasham’s portrayal of Don Finlayson has led to a greater understanding and indeed acceptance of homosexuality in Australia.” [27] While most soap operas of the 2000s have included a gay character at some point, frequently they are a briefly glimpsed character who does a “gay” storyline and disappears. But Don was a key original character who lasted through the program’s entire run, was involved in the gamut of storylines, and had many gay relationships across the series. In many respects, as the series drifted into comedy and new characters were developed as comedy caricatures, dependable Don became the show’s sanest character, regularly stepping in to take charge of a chaotic situation and to help out the other characters.

Within months of its launch the series was a clear success. As the series progressed the emphasis on comedy would be increased and there would be less emphasis on sex, nudity, and other outwardly shocking elements. Moving to flat 5 was bubbly Norma Whittaker (Sheila Kennelly), the barmaid from the local pub, and her a lovable and accident prone amateur inventor husband Les (Gordon McDougall), who worked as an orderly at the local hospital. Norma, who called everyone “Ducky”, wore a blond wig when working behind the bar. This was a costume choice requested by her portrayer, the dark-haired Sheila Kennelly, who initially took the Number 96 role partly for the regular income. Not wanting to jeopardise a potential serious acting career, she wanted to disguise her appearance in the raunchy soap opera. Nevertheless as the role continued Norma would frequently be seen at home sans wig. Les always had a get-rich-quick scheme up his sleeve, always had a home grown solution to people’s various troubles, and was an avid proponent of various self help manuals, which included Be Your Own Acupuncturist, Be Your Own Caterer, Be Your Own Nanny, etc. Later when the chemist shop was converted to a wine bar by Jack Sellars, Norma was installed as manager and she and Les moved in to flat 1 behind the bar area. The friendly and cosy wine bar with its lively hosts would quickly emerge as the primary meeting place for the show’s characters. Norma and Dorrie sustained an on-going feud while Les’s constant failed schemes and inventions - which often involved assistance from Alf and Herb - provided many comedy moments.

STARS AND AWARDS

Next Arnold Feather (Jeff Kevin) arrived from catering school to work in the wine bar. Just 18 and an orphan, Arnold soon switched to working in the deli where he initially clashed with Aldo in his attempts to reorganise the business. He also emerged as an unlikely sex symbol in the story, warding off advances from several eager young women. A mild mannered, meek but officious gentleman fond of peppering his sentences with pet phrases “If I may be so bold” and “in point of actual fact”, Arnold emerged as somewhat a son figure both to Aldo and Roma Godolfus, with whom he worked and entered into a business venture with, and the Sutcliffes, with whom he boarded for a significant time. Jeff Kevin had in point of actual fact been initially signed to appear in just nine episodes. [28] A big success in the show, he would continue in the series right through to its final episode.

Arnold was later joined by his catering school friend, a camp movie fan named Dudley Butterfield (Chard Hayward) who took over Arnold’s position in the wine bar. Dudley was always fantasising about old classic films, likening current story situations to classic cinema moments. Of a classic film he would always enthusiastically ask “...did you see it? It was ever so good!” Dudley also frequently employed the term “bona”, meaning very good, from the old camp cant language polari, while another of his signature lines was “Don’t be cheeky, I’ll slap your wrists!” Dudley would go on to enjoy a long running live in relationship with Don.

Then the loveable Flo Patterson (Bunney Brooke), escaping a fire that destroyed her former residence at Paradise Street, arrived to live with Herb and Dorrie. The only possession she was able to save was her caged parrot, Mr Perky, and the pet was moved in to flat 3 as well. Wisecracking Flo quickly became a highly popular character in the series. She was a crusty supporter for henpecked Herb and a perfect foil for the fussing and swooning Dorrie, with whom she often playfully quarrelled. Though of the show’s cast it was the enormously popular Pat McDonald (Dorrie) who always seemed to get the Logie (winning the award for Best Actress in 1973, 1974, and again in 1976) the year she didn’t win, 1975, it was Bunney Brooke who took home the award.

More camp fun erupted with the arrival of Don’s glamorous jet setting and much widowed aunt, the Baroness Amanda von Pappenburg, a bright and bubbly comedy character portrayed by the bright and bubbly Carol Raye. Amanda boarded in flat 4 with Don and Dud and befriended most of the residents. Amanda enjoyed a close friendship with Flo while sending up the snobbish Dorrie, but her witty retorts to the bitchy Maggie Cameron were most enjoyable of all. After two substantial stints in the series in the 1973-1974 period Amanda was written out of the series and her portrayer Carol Raye became a tireless behind the scenes worker on Number 96, with the casting of main characters one of her primary roles. [29] Raye would enjoy 18 months in this later position. [30]

Despite Pat McDonald winning more awards than anyone else, there were safe guards built into the production organisation of Number 96 that were designed to prevent any one performer becoming the show’s star. All actors received equal billing, with the billing order decreed by where in the flats their character lived: actor’s names appeared on screen over each flat as the camera panned from one to the other in the end credits sequence. The standard contract for regular, on going cast members was for just three months, and all actor contracts had a ten week notice clause: if a character was not working out then the character would be dropped. In addition each actor received the same salary, and no one actor would ever appear in more than three of the five episodes broadcast over any one week. These safe guards were in place to prevent jealousies and bickering over billing and pay rates, and to discourage a star system from developing. [31] Meanwhile series regular Tom Oliver described to TV Week the fast turnaround on the show and the relative insecurity of the job. “In Number 96 you never really know when your run is likely to finish. They like to add new characters all the time, and nobody knows who will go next. When we make the show we are only two weeks ahead of the audience - and we have scripts for two weeks in advance. That only makes us one month ahead in knowledge of what’s going to happen. We get more notice than that, of course, but it’s always around the corner.” [32]

INFAMOUS STORYLINES

Late 1972 featured two infamous, head-line grabbing storylines. There was that dreaded lover of women’s underwear - dubbed the “knicker snipper” in the show’s publicity - a devious intruder who crept into the women’s unattended bedrooms snipping holes in their panties and bras. The storyline was presented as a mystery whodunit that kept the residents of Number 96 (and the viewers) guessing for weeks. In late 1972 the culprit was eventually discovered by Herb and Dorrie’s niece, the plucky Georgina Carter (Sussannah Piggot). Young Georgina had already encountered the knicker snipper during her stint staying with Herb and Dorrie in flat 3: during a provocative (and hilarious) undressing sequence the knicker snipper’s hand had emerged from under her bed to reach out and grab Georgina’s freshly discarded panties. When he came back for more she wasn’t about to lose another pair of undies. Georgina quickly calls a passing Jack Sellars in to help, and the criminal is apprehended.

The culprit turned out to be Alan Cotterell (Mark Hashfield), who had entered the storyline as Janie’s boyfriend. To keep the guessing viewers off the scent the cunning writers had earlier shown Alan organising a vigilante group to capture the knicker snipper. Janie herself left Number 96 after her portrayer Robyn Gurney decided the leave the series to avoid being typecast. [33]

Another infamous storyline from the show’s first year was the black mass sequence conducted by devil worshippers. In the story Bev’s new flatmate Karen Winters (Toni Lamond) arrives and shows an interest in the fortune telling exploits of Vera Collins. When Vera wants to give up smoking, Karen suggests that Vera visit hynotherapist Vernon Saville (Alistair Duncan) to undergo hypnotherapy to help her quit. Meanwhile Karen discovers that Bev is a virgin, and is soon suggesting hypnotism to help her cure her fear of sex. It is revealed that Vernon Saville is actually a devil worshipper who begins to control Vera through hypnosis. Karen meanwhile has procured Bev as the virgin needed for a ceremony where they plan to summon up the devil himself, and Bev too falls victim to his hypnotherapy. Vera is put into a trance to be used as the medium in the ritual, while a naked Bev will be the sacrificial virgin.

The black mass scene involved Bev laying on a velvet altar and naked under a silk sheet as a team of robed extras writhed to jungle rhythms. Poised above her was a sword wielded by De Como, the high priest of the mass played by Peter Reynolds. Looking on is Vernon Saville, while Karen flutters around in the background muttering incantations. As the mass gets underway Vera’s clothes were stripped away to reveal her naked body before she was dressed in a billowing robe for the ceremony. [34]

The sequence was shot on a Friday the 13th and Vera’s portrayer Elaine Lee admitted that “I am tremendously worried about this particular scene. As Vera Collins I play a mystic and I really identify with the character. I couldn’t play Vera if I weren’t like her. I have brought all sorts of lucky charms with me today - just to keep me calm. I don’t believe in black magic but I do definitely believe in the supernatural.” Also worried was guest artist Toni Lamond who told TV Week that “I am genuinely worried about the filming because I have strong feelings about dabbling in things we don’t understand. In one scene I had to recite the Lord’s Prayer backwards, which upset me very much.” Lamond sought counsel from a clairvoyant friend who advised that as long as Lamond was merely reciting the words but not feeling any actual malevolence things should be fine. “But I still find the whole thing very unsettling. I will be very glad when it’s all over,” Lamond said. Abigail told TV Week that “I don’t personally worry about these things as a rule although I was upset at rehearsal when Peter Reynolds was holding that dagger over me. The dagger is very heavy and sharp - and we were all laughing a bit while rehearsing. If he had dropped it I would have been in trouble.” The show’s associate producer Ted Jobbins said that the actors were not overly disturbed by the scenes. “I think most of them are amused rather than worried about the scene. As far as the cast is concerned it’s just another job. It is all being treated very light-heartedly, even if it is Friday the 13th”. [35]

This scene included Elaine Lee’s second nude appearance in the series after Vera’s rape scene in the show’s opening installment. [36] With the scene requiring her to be stripped naked, Lee explained that “I prefer it if the set is closed when I have to do a nude scene, as I get very embarrassed.” Indeed onlookers and non-essential personnel were ordered out of the studio during the taping of the nude sequences. Nevertheless in the Channel 10 boardroom a team of specially-invited members of the press enjoyed a bird’s-eye view of proceedings through the transmitting monitor. For nearly an hour Abigail, who had worn a flesh-coloured bikini for rehearsals, lay naked on the altar while the scene was being shot and re-shot. Overall Elaine Lee admitted that “I’m not really looking forward to doing the scene, but I feel it is essential to the plot of Number 96. I wouldn’t do it otherwise. [37]

Unfortunately, the Broadcasting Control Board felt that the black mass sequence - essential or not - should not be seen, and ordered it to be cut from the episode. Channel Ten hadn’t shown the footage to the Broadcasting Control Board and the first the board knew of it was when the black mass episode was broadcast in Sydney. Earlier in the year the board had exercised one of their rarely evoked powers and been previewing all episodes of Number 96 prior to broadcast. This had continued for the show’s first five or so weeks, and had long been discontinued by the time the devil worshippers showed up. But after the black mass went to air in Sydney the board leapt into action and quickly acted to ban the segment. The board evoked the regulation against televising displays connected to the occult, and the scene was cut before it went to air anywhere outside Sydney. [38]

Perhaps this censorship was for the best, because, according TV Week columnist Jerry Fetherston the sequence was ridiculous, its displays of hypnotism inane. For Fetherston such outrageous displays stray too far into the realms of fantasy for a series purportedly about everyday people, and threaten to stretch credulity to breaking point, potentially eroding the show’s popularity. [39] Johnny Whyte himself later regretted the storyline. “I was disappointed that it didn’t work,” he said, noting that audiences apparently “didn’t want to see black magic on television. It was a big turn off.” [40] However it had been series creator David Sale himself who had initially suggested the storyline in a story conference. Sale attempted to reconcile the witchcraft angle with his concept of the show as having a “realistic approach” by emphasising the moral behind the devil worshipper storyline. “When the public see the black mass ritual,” Sale told TV Week, “I hope they are horrified enough to be completely turned off ever getting involved in that sort of thing.” [41]

THEY’LL BE SUPERSTARS!

The core cast that had steadily developed over the show’s first year became cult figures, and when they travelled by train to the Logie television awards ceremony in Melbourne the fans that greeted them at Spencer Street Station seemed to rival the Melbourne crowds that had greeted The Beatles. These whistle stop train journeys became major publicity for the show for the first few years of its run. Much of the regular cast would travel together, greeting hordes of fans at every stop, even if the actors themselves never received any extra pay for this weekend work. [42] (By 1977, perhaps as a convenient way to articulate the program’s sudden fall from grace, The Sun newspaper columnist Ralph Broom noted with some regret that despite previous years seeing busloads of the cast in attendance and their presence being commercially exploited, that by 1977 just four members of the Number 96 cast were at the Logies, and that they were seated behind scaffolding and virtually out of camera range. [43])

As Number 96 rose to the top of the ratings in 1973 various behind the scenes dramas were reported in the press. Actor Pat McDonald and her former co-star Sussannah Piggot who had just finished a three month stint playing Georgina, the niece of McDonald’s character Dorrie, both incurred the wrath of the show’s producers after appearing in television advertisements where they reprised their Number 96 characters. Bill Harmon said that actors were allowed to appear in commercials “so long as they don’t appear as their 96 characters. If they appear as their 96 characters they take away some of the believability of the series and characters. In fact, what they are doing is stealing the characters and if anyone does it in future they will find themselves up against a lawsuit.” It was for much the same reason that actors could not appear in any advertisements whatsoever that were screened in breaks within Number 96. [44]

McDonald did not think the producers would object to her commercial, which was for a new brand of bread, as her costume in the commercial was not one of Dorrie’s, and she wore a different hairstyle. Harmon told TV Week that “When she found out we were concerned about the commercial she was terribly embarrassed.” Piggott, whose advertisement featured her discussing her “Auntie D” and a popular brand of vacuum cleaner, admitted that she was “heartily sorry” and said that “at the time I had finished working in Number 96 and I couldn’t see any harm in it. But later I realised that perhaps I had done wrong.” The commercials were quickly withdrawn from Sydney’s Channel Ten, where the series was produced, and assurances sought that they would be withdrawn entirely. At the Channel Ten studios an official notice quickly went up advising all actors that such portrayals were banned. [45]

There was further turmoil when actors Tom Oliver and Lynn Rainbow complained to producers about proposed use of their likenesses on the cover of a book about Number 96 without payment. [46] Meanwhile original cast member Joe James spoke out when, to his surprise, he was abruptly written out of the series at the end of the first year. James admitted to TV Week that “I was hurt and upset by the decision. I really enjoyed working on the show, in fact it was one of the most pleasant jobs I have ever had. All the people involved in Number 96 are great and it makes me sad to think I won’t be rejoining them in the new year.” No specific reason was given for the character’s demise except that the writers felt they had exhausted all the drama associated with the character. “They like to keep a constant flow of dramatic situations going with the regular cast members - and I suppose Gordon had his fair share of high drama” James said. [47] Indeed Gordon Vansard had endured a troubled relationship with Sonia before being embroiled in a murder mystery plotline after his estranged wife Sylvia was killed, and then starting an affair with Yvonne Marette (Sophie Vaillant). For his exit Gordon was killed in a horror road accident with his mistress Yvonne while Sonia promptly departed the series, though she would return to play a major role in the 1974 feature film version of the serial. With his character killed off Joe James would make no such returns to the story, but he at least could take consolation in the honour of being the one and only fellow Number 96 cast member that co-star Joe Hasham invited to his wedding during the filming break in December 1972. [48]

However the biggest turmoil surrounded the show’s earliest standout star, Abigail. In March 1973 TV Week reported that the producers planned to drop her from the series as the writers had exhausted her character’s storyline potential, a decision that provoked a storm of viewer protests. The TV Week report stated that there was more to the move that mere lack of story ideas, noting that Abigail was one of the program’s most temperamental actors. She frequently showed up late for work, and indeed had been 20 minutes late for rehearsals the day after her departure from the show was announced. The magazine reported that Abigail was emotional and moody, had had minor clashes with the other actors, members of the crew and the producers, and had had at least one shouting match with an associate producer who had tried to hurry her along for a taping.

The final straw came with the special cast train journey to Melbourne for the Logies in March 1973. Abigail asked that manager/boyfriend Mark Hashfield be allowed to accompany her on the train so he could act as her body guard, protecting her from the hordes of fans who it was expected would meet the train. With the entire regular cast aboard and the limited accommodation on the train and at the Logies, the producers decided that partners would not be allowed, and no exception was made for Abigail. Her demands over the matter angered producers to the extent that they almost revoked her invitation to the Logies altogether, but they relented and decided Abigail should travel on the train with the cast but without Hashfield. However 15 minutes before the train was due to leave Sydney the message came through that Abigail would not be aboard because her “dress was not ready”. In the event Abigail was the only regular cast member not aboard the train, and her absence greatly disappointed a segment of the huge crowds that had come out to greet the travelling actors. Some fans were reportedly chanting “We want Bev!” but with Abigail missing the fans left the station feeling disgruntled, while network executives seethed. [49]

Meanwhile rumours about the turmoil abounded. Manager Mark Hashfield refuted claims that her departure was merely a publicity stunt and that Abigail would only be taking a short break before returning to the series, telling TV Week that he had received written notification from the show’s producers that Abigail’s contract had been terminated and that she would be leaving the series on 20 April 1973. Due to the stockpile of pretaped episodes, her last episodes would go to air three weeks after that. [50]

THE NEW SEX SYMBOLS

With Abigail’s departure from the show her character Bev was written out of the storyline by leaving for an extended overseas trip. Meanwhile new character Jill Sheridan (Candy Raymond) would steam up the show in a series of risqué storylines as Bev Houghton stepped aside. In the story Jill and her older sister Helen Sheridan (Carmen Duncan) move to Number 96 from the country. Candy Raymond, a thoughtful and politically-minded graduate of the prestigious National Institute of Dramatic Arts, mixed intelligence and sex-appeal. She was described by producer Bill Harmon as “a luscious brunette who’s going to do things for a lot of people,” while in her own comments to the press she denounced her status a sex symbol. Raymond said she partly accepted the role to assist a friend who was writing a university thesis on communications media in Australia, and the particular effect Number 96 was having on Australians. Working on the show would give her an insight to the series and the media in general, from the inside. [51] Other reports presented her as an outspoken supporter of various social issues who had even organised a Number 96 cast protest against French nuclear tests. [52] Much like cast member Vivienne Garrett before her, Raymond played a sexy girl thrown into a series of storylines involving love scenes and nudity, while her apparent rejection of her sex-symbol status and comments supporting “Women’s Lib” only served to enhance her - and her character’s - image as a complex and rebellious bad girl.

With Abigail’s imminent demise Candy Raymond observed that “There might be some animosity to me by Abigail’s fans. I hope that’s not the case because I am not, in fact, replacing another actress. I am playing an entirely different character, although they are both sexy ladies. In a way, it’s good not to have to be a pioneer of that image. Abigail has done it all and she has done it well.” [53]

Then Abigail returned to the series as Bev in an episode that first went to air in Sydney on 13 June 1973. In the story Bev returned from the US with a new husband. Then on 22 June 1973, just seven episodes later, Abigail was gone and the role of Bev was taken over by new actor Victoria Raymond. For years the true reason for her final exit remained shrouded in mystery and the subject of rumour. In 2004 Andrew Mercado revealed in his book Super Aussie Soaps that Abigail had been fired from her role after a series of photographs of her in some compromising situations entered circulation. [54] The decision to recast was not made lightly - night time Australian soap opera was still in its infancy and such a ploy had not been tried before. Moreover the original actor had been the show’s most popular and famous player. Nevertheless with Bev’s popularity and storyline entanglements it was felt she couldn’t just disappear, so the producers opted to slip new actor Victoria Raymond into Bev’s boots. Bev’s new portrayer was the older sister of Candy Raymond who had proved a big success in her role as the wicked Jill Sheridan. Victoria Raymond had in fact been one of the actors who auditioned for the role of Jill a few months earlier. At that time Candy Raymond, a slinky brunette, had rather perceptively told TV Week that “Vicki is blond and blue-eyed and has a busty appearance and seemed just right for the series. But she would have been a repeat of Abigail so this time I got the part.”