John Thaw

JOHN Thaw was one of the most popular actors on television: one of the rare band whose presence guaranteed a series being made. His Morse ("just Morse - no first name") in ITV’s long-running thriller made him more than a household name and a well-known face. Viewers felt they knew him personally and when cancer was diagnosed two years ago he received a huge mail from people offering support. For someone who shunned publicity, this came as something of a surprise.

Morse and Thaw, in fact, had similarities. Both loved music, the crossword puzzle, beer and women. With his consummate acting skills, Thaw made the taciturn and grumpy Morse into a national institution - indeed, he was dubbed the "thinking woman’s bit of crumpet". When the writer Colin Dexter killed Morse off two years ago, the episode was watched by 13 million viewers. Like his other television dramas - The Sweeney and Kavanagh QC - Thaw brought a subtle blend of humanity and charm to characters which made them exciting, dangerous and all too recognisable.

John Edward Thaw was born into a working-class family. His father was a lorry driver and his mother left the family home when Thaw was seven. He left school early and had casual jobs as a baker and a fruit porter. A school master had spotted Thaw’s acting talent and suggested he audition for the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art. Despite arriving (in 1957) in full Teddy Boy gear and with a pronounced northern accent, he was soon accepted and shared a flat with Tom Courtenay and Nicol Williamson. Thaw won RADA’s Vanburgh Award and first appeared as a professional in Liverpool in 1960.

He made his London debut the following year at the Royal Court and various stage and film work followed throughout the Sixties. After several television spots, including Z-cars, he was cast, in 1975, as Jack Regan in the action-packed flying squad drama The Sweeney. Thaw and his sidekick - played by Dennis Waterman - were aggressive, uncompromising and belligerent. The flared trousers, the kipper ties and the great mops of uncontrolled hair rather date the drama now. But at the time it was the epitome of action-packed cool. Cars screeched to a halt, leaving the tread on the road and the language was gutteral. All delightfully shocking! Few knew then (or later) that Thaw walked with a limp as a result of a malformed right foot. It never hindered him in the most aggressive of chases, the raunchiest of fights or getting to The Sweeney’s bar.

Thaw brought a dare-devil energy to The Sweeney. Regan was not a nice copper (certainly far removed from Dixon and PC 49), yet Thaw gave him just enough humour and charm to capture the public’s sympathy. The show ran for three years and won several BAFTA awards.

In 1986, he was offered the role of Morse. When Dexter first met him he admitted he’d never heard of Thaw, as he didn’t watch television. The two sat on a bench at Magdalen College in a scene that could have come straight from the series. They discussed Morse’s character and the plots. "He said he thought he would enjoy playing Morse," Dexter recalls, "more than he enjoyed playing most things". That showed.

Morse loved his Wagner and Mozart, he did the crossword before washing up last night’s supper and didn’t care for the world at large, let alone Oxford city centre. He drove his red Jag at a furious pace round the Thames Valley and drank (always real ale) more than was good for him. He didn’t get on with his colleagues and had few friends. Whenever Morse fell for a lady (and they were invariably stylish county types who had been to the opera the previous evening) they usually turned out to be the murderer. As the titles rolled, Morse was left listening to his Wagner in a distraught manner, agonising over what might have been.

Morse had an erratic relationship with Lewis (Thaw took pleasure in bawling out "Loonies" when things got heavy) but once when the junior was asked why he put up with his boss, Kevin Whatley replied with obvious affection: "Because he’s the best." And that summed up Thaw the actor. He didn’t seem to be acting: he portrayed the character with absolute integrity and honesty. No frills. No gimmicks. The process seemed effortless.

One of the great attractions of the series was how it teased its audience. The music was, it was alleged, a coded reference to the absence of a Christian name. Then we found out that Morse’s Christian name was Endeavour (named after Captain Cook’s ship, for some obscure reason). When, as Morse, Thaw owned up, he did so with a delightful blend of shyness and self-mockery. Dexter himself had cameo roles in each episode and the Jag’s number was 248 RPA: was that significant? The series, which ran for 13 years and 33 episodes, won many awards, as did Thaw.

Kavanagh QC (1994-99) was the socially aware barrister with the looks and charm who delighted in confusing and flattering a witness. Yet Thaw brought a tender aspect to the role. Thaw never lost Kavanagh’s humble northern origins - scrupulously keeping the accent. And the fact he had a turbulent family life gave the series an extra dimension.

Thaw was in some less than successful TV dramas. Drake’s Venture (1981), Home to Roost (1985), A Year in Provence (1993) and Goodnight Mister Tom (1999) all got poor viewing figures, but they were balanced by successes such as Plastic Man (1998) and Monsieur Renard (2000). His movie career was somewhat limited (apart from full-length Sweeneys) to cameo roles in films such as Chaplin and Cry Freedom.

Thaw had a considerable career outside the studios. He appeared with Laurence Olivier in Semi-Detached (1962), a satirical comedy set in the Midlands. He did a season with the Royal Shakespeare Company in 1983 and was at the National Theatre in David Hare’s The Absence of War (1993), playing George Jones, the leader of the Labour Party (based on Neil Kinnock). It was also adapted for television. The role was appropriate for Thaw as he remained loyal to his socialist principles all his life.

In 1970, he played the lead in John McGrath’s Random Happenings in the Hebrides at the Edinburgh Festival, a new play which the Royal Lyceum presented by its then director, Richard Eyre. Also in the cast were John Cairney and Bryden Murdoch.

Thaw once sighed in an interview: "If only there was a way of being a successful actor and not being famous." He guarded his private life jealously: he seldom gave interviews and is not listed in many reference books. In this day and age of instant fame, perhaps the public respected him for just that.

He had been married to the actress Sheila Hancock for 29 years and both had been diagnosed suffering from cancer. She withdrew from EastEnders recently to nurse her husband. They both showed courage in adversity: his grandson had a brain tumour two years ago and she lost her first husband to the disease in 1971. They enjoyed living anonymously in the West Country and tried to avoid the limelight. They shared a great love of music and books and had intended to celebrate her birthday last week by attending Don Giovanni at the Royal Opera House. Opera was another of their shared joys.

Thaw was much respected within his own profession: arguably he defined modern TV acting. He was a natural and went to the heart of a character with a (seemingly) casual ease. "John could," a colleague recalls, "expose the vulnerability of a character by the merest flicker of an eyebrow." As a man he was self-effacing, shy and often downright modest.

In 1964 he married Sally Alexander. That marriage was dissolved and in 1973 he married Sheila Hancock. She survives him, as do a daughter from each marriage and Hancock’s daughter by her first marriage whom Thaw adopted.