No-one could do bonhomie like John Rhodes. Usually, he was dispensing it over a pint in the bar at his beloved Heywood Cricket Club with Mike Law. But, when they weren’t propping that place up, they acted as a cross-talking double act in the Curtain Theatre’s watering-hole and, occasionally, on the stage. In fact, both featured in John’s first ever production there, All In Good Time by Bill Naughton in May 1967. But, whereas Mike proved adept at serious drama, John inclined more often to the world of the dropped trousers, secreting a secretary in the wardrobe or gabbling wild excuses to save his bacon. He took part in innumerable Cooney farces and, at times, imitated them in real life. In fact, whenever you spoke to John, the conversation would morph, without a pause, from theatre gossip into an excruciating joke about a blonde, at which point he would make an exit with a huge grin on his red face. Only Tony Cragg was more relentless and had worse material. On one occasion, the Law-Rhodes double-act was enshrined onstage at the Lyceum, Oldham in Neil Simon’s “The Sunshine Boys”, both at home playing two retired vaudeville entertainers making a bumpy comeback. The frequent rancour in that play wasn’t something you’d find in their real-life bar repartee; they’d snipe at each other but only for a laugh, sprung from the affection of a decades-old friendship, cultivated (if that’s the word) on boozy, sports-based road-trips to France in their misspent younger days.
But John did make the occasional credible foray into drama; he brought considerable pathos to a Lyceum production of “Kiss Me Like You Mean It” with Sue Garlick, as a couple facing the husband’s terminal illness with fear amongst the quips and his clubbable WWII Squadron Leader in Rattigan’s “Flarepath” at Shaw playhouse had a regretful, downbeat side to his bluff good nature.
He was never happier though than in a rollicking farce; like Eric Walton, he had the necessary bluster, panic and capacity for a double-take in the frantic shenanigans of things like “Move Over, Mrs. Markham”. How much choreographed pleasure has John brought to CT audiences when his character was hilariously having the worst day of his life!
I shall always remember his superb turn in my 2008 production of Blake Morrison’s “The Cracked Pot” as the visiting magistrate enquiring into the maladministration of Skipton JP, Judge Adam. His mounting incredulity at Greg Sherrington’s old devil was a sarcastic counterpoint to all the lies and obfuscations flying around. With a script far wittier than the average Cooney, I reckon it represents the high-point of John’s later CT career.
His last outing as an actor came in the CT’s 2018 Bryony Lavery’s adaptation of “Treasure Island”, as Smollett, Captain of the Hispaniola, trying to keep a tight-ship despite being undermined by Long John Silver and the extraordinary ragbag crew; it was a surprisingly straight rendition, outside his comic norm but still was a vividly memorable part of the sprawling narrative.
In reality, John was “captain” of the CT for two long stints as an easy-going Drama Director (and as a Trustee), a sure hand on the tiller, with a great practical sense of what would be popular, entirely avoiding pretension. He gave the public what they wanted during a period which turned out to be the CT’s heyday. His DD postings were certainly earned because he did direct 10 productions over 41 years, from “A Little Love Besides” in 1979 to “The Secret Lives Of Henry & Alice” in 2020. His jokey demeanour did not preclude a great deal of rigour in the serious way he tackled the staging of comedy or drama alike.
Whichever way you cut it, John Rhodes was a key figure in what made the CT tick for well over 50 years; indeed, he was due to direct the impending production, “The Red Lion” before being felled by illness. Laughter, kindness and concern for new members of the company were essential parts of his repertoire and we’ll be struggling without his no-nonsense Heywood presence—and those jokes.
Peter Fitton: May 2025