I first met the actor John Savident whereas working on the Theatre Royal, Lincoln within the early Nineteen Sixties.
He had a presence and authority that belied the actual fact he was nonetheless in his mid-20s, notably as a testy, Homburg-hatted patriarch in Neil Simon’s Come Blow Your Horn.
Later I shared a flat in London with John, his spouse, Rona, and their younger son. He was then a member of Laurence Olivier’s stellar Nationwide Theatre firm on the Outdated Vic and I used to be a struggling younger critic. John urged me to sharpen my prose type and enhance my gown sense.
I by no means did the latter – and doubtless not the previous – however I used to be at all times grateful to John for his kindness, and by no means doubted that he would obtain the celebrity he hard-earned.
Michael Billington
In round 1970, once I was 12, John Savident was a Scout district commissioner at a camp that he had organised in Harlow, Essex. It was a gastromic themed occasion, and we made rooster à la king and sausages baked in banana skins. John did the judging.
Nick Fulcher
