I GUESS we’re all allowed to have favourites and one of mine is Walter Love. I’ve known him since I was 17 and he never fails to engage but then he grew up in the days when Lord Reith’s declaration was still paramount – the BBC was there to inform, educate and entertain; after all, his mentors were men like Duncan Hearle and Michael Baguley.
When in 1958 he flew to London for an interview for studio manager, half a dozen of his very young friends packed a picnic and climbed to the top of Slieve Donard to wave to his aeroplane and wish him good luck. The plane didn’t go anywhere near Slieve Donard, the exertion put me in hospital the next day with an appendicitis and Walter got the job anyway.
Our lives have been intertwined every since and one of my great joys was working on his radio programme Day by Day, where Ask Anne was born and lived on through radio to television and newspapers.
I answered listeners' questions on air and one day Walter asked me what I was talking about that morning. I told him it was sensitive and affected many women; a lady in Bangor had written to say she had one breast bigger than the other and couldn’t get a suitable bra and so was very uncomfortable.
He was somewhat aghast and expressed the thought that this wasn’t suitable for his programme! My turn to be aghast. “It’s what I’m here for, Walter. This poor woman is sitting at home waiting for me to give her my suggestion.” Which is? “To get two bras, different cup sizes, cutting them in half and sewing up to match her bosoms.”
“Well,” he said, “I don’t want you to do it,” and he stomped out of the office. In the studio, during a record, he asked me again not to include the letter. I said I would; he said please don’t. I said give me one good reason. Pause. “Because I wrote the letter!” Then he threw the switch and I was 'On Air’ as he giggled away. I won’t tell you of his antics when I covered the story of the Big Wind of 1839!
Peter Cooke and Dudley Moore are his kind of comics: “Watch the sketch about the one-legged man auditioning for the part of Tarzan.” This led me to a dozen hilarious and witty sketches on You Tube. Although serious on air , he has always liked to make people laugh. “Life is too serious to be taken seriously,” is his motto.
Undoubtedly he has a wicked sense of humour, full of mischief, funny but never cruel, always well researched and positive. He reckons life is like a golf course, fairways and bunkers. “When you’re looking back, never dwell on negative points just recall happy times.”
He has many happy times to recall but sad times too. Only four years ago be lost his beloved wife of 28 years although he and Mary were friends for a lot longer.
“She died in hospital at 2.25 in the morning. Later I was driving home towards Downpatrick, a lovely June morning with the sun coming up and the sky a beautiful pale blue and I thought, never forget the past, accept that life goes on and this is a new day.”
In their home Mary is still all around. As an art teacher and a woman of taste, the colours are definite yet soft and her paintings grace the walls. “Mary always talked about giving me lessons and a couple of years ago I discovered her watercolour paints and began to experiment, I started to observe, to see light and shade and to realise a green field is not all one green. I loved it, joined an art group and although they may not please everyone, my paintings please me!” He’s a modest man, Mary would be well impressed with his work.
Walter’s other great love is music and, in particular, his Sunday evening BBC Jazz Club. “Are you jealous that I met Louis Armstrong?” I asked with a smug expression. “Of course but I’ve been in his house In New York, and his third wife Lucille took me round and it’s exactly as it was, I walked up the same steep staircase and held on to the same stair rail he held on to. But yes, I would like to have met him.”
Then I was jealous when he talked of the jazz greats he has interviewed for his programmes.
Such is the respect he commands, a member of the Irish Radio Awards Hall of Fame, an MBE in 1998 and nine years ago the BBC gave him the Ulster Hall and the Ulster Orchestra for a one night to celebrate 60 years in broadcasting. The ‘menu’ was entirely his choice, music from childhood through to jazz to the jaunty Jaromír Weinberger – Schwanda the Bagpiper: Polka and Fugue. It was a unique night and an honour unlikely to be repeated.
Despite two heart attacks and diabetes, he just gets on with it. “You have to start any day from where you are.” And these days he could be anywhere. As well as programmes at Broadcasting House, Walter is likely to pop up in Australia or Canada or a nice warm island somewhere. He can talk on any subject, be it wine, art, jazz or travel and everything in between.
His love affair with radio began when he was 11 and has included acting, news reading, announcing, he has written books, given talks all over Ireland, made documentaries and commentates on Twelfth of July marches and he still gets a thrill walking into the sound-proofed studio to chat with his radio friends.
The wit and wisdom of Walter Love is legend in Northern Ireland. The fact that he celebrated his 80th birthday this year is irrelevant. This gentle man is timeless.
