In search of the real Alistair MacLean

Scotland's celebrated thriller writer. Here is his diary of the

challenge.

LIKE so much else in a busy world, it all began with a phone call. Mr

Chapman was on the line from London -- Ian Chapman, former chairman of

Collins now establishing his own publishing business in Drury Lane.

He had already turned me into a paperback writer for Fontana; but now

he had a different proposition.

It wasn't the first time Mr Chapman had phoned the Herald. In 1954 he

asked to be put in touch with the winner of the paper's short-story

competition, a Mr Alistair S. MacLean. At that time, Chapman was a young

executive with Collins in Glasgow, so impressed that he thought this Mr

MacLean should be writing novels.

Mr MacLean did not agree but Chapman persevered. The result? A first

novel called HMS Ulysses, which soon sold a phenomenal 250,000 copies.

It was followed by The Guns of Navarone and a string of titles from

Where Eagles Dare to Ice Station Zebra, which turned him into one of the

best-selling authors the world has known. Fame and fortune, triumph and

tragedy, with Chapman his publisher throughout a remarkable career.

With the author now dead, he had a proposition: ''I want you to write

the biography of Alistair MacLean.''

''Biography of Alistair MacLean? Oh, I don't think that's for me,'' I

said, rummaging for reasons why I shouldn't do it. I never met the man,

knew little about him, and frankly doubted if my particular talents

would stretch that far.

More important than all that, my wife, Eden, was in the rigours of

bone cancer and it was difficult enough to keep my mind on the daily

task. It was flattering to be asked but I would have to turn it down.

Would I at least go home and think about it? asked Mr Chapman, giving

some hint of the calibre of people considered and pointing gently to the

international flavour it would add to my career.

I was still for turning it down that night when Eden said: ''No. Do

it. It's a wonderful opportunity.'' She had nudged me at key points

before and her instinct had always been sound.

That week I accepted the commission and faced the daunting question:

How do you start the biography of someone you never met and whose family

evidently don't want the book anyway?

I had better keep a diary of events to chart progress. So (greatly

abridged) here we go:

* 11 February 1990: I know so little about this man, except that he

was a teacher in Rutherglen and wrote all those books. Better check our

library files. The 1987 obituaries give a sketchy outline of his career.

* 8 March: Had dinner in London tonight with Ian and Marjory Chapman.

Discussed the timetable and agreed financial terms.

* 17 April: Time to get down to real business. Drove to Rutherglen

after work to see what the local paper, the Reformer, has on its files.

Just his obituary. But they know of an old pupil, Willie McIntosh, who

has a class photo from Gallowflat School, where MacLean taught.

Willie is a taxi-driver in Rutherglen. Traced him to Buchanan Drive,

where he gave an interesting account of his teacher and turned out the

class photo, including Mr MacLean. This is the first witness I've spoken

to.

Any other teachers still around? He remembered the technical man, a Mr

Seggie, great pal of Mr MacLean. In fact they used to sail a boat

together but he didn't know if Mr Seggie was still alive. And there was

a Mr Bradford. I drove past Gallowflat School.

* 27 April: Have contacted MacLean's elder brother, Ian, at

Ross-on-Wye, near Hereford. Caught early morning plane to Birmingham,

taxi to New Street Station and train to Hereford. Mr MacLean picked me

up. Back at his home, he and his wife, Bunty, talked to me for five

solid hours.

Now I'm getting family background. The father was a minister who moved

from Shettleston to Daviot, near Inverness, where the four boys grew up.

Beginning to feel much closer to my subject. Ian and Bunty very frank

about everything, including Alistair's drinking. They have given me

other likely witnesses, including brother Gillespie, who lives at Muir

of Ord.

* 28 April: Back home. Checked Glasgow phone book for a D. Seggie, the

teacher friend. Only one listed, with a Cambuslang number. That's near

Rutherglen. Could it be him? It is! Have arranged a meeting.

* 7 May: Traced another friend, Dr Alastair Cameron from Denny. Drove

out to see him. They used to go to Ibrox together. MacLean a blue-nose?

I hear of their student days at Glasgow University. During holidays they

worked at a hospital in Surrey, where Alistair met a German girl. First

hint of romance.

* 8 May: To Cambuslang to meet the famous Dougie Seggie, who turned

out to be a rugged, likeable character, a pipe-smoking salt with great

tales of their escapades on water. He also knows the role-model for the

Anthony Quinn part in The Guns of Navarone.

* 9 May: This is proving a busy week. As chairman of Radio Clyde, Ian

Chapman is in Glasgow tonight. Met him at One Devonshire Gardens, where

he handed me masses of correspondence with MacLean.

He says the first wife, Gisela, is refusing to co-operate. At some

stage, however, I must try to meet her. The second wife, Marcelle, died

prematurely but left a pretty damning manuscript, which cannot be

ignored.

Trying to pinpoint where MacLeans lived in Glasgow. No 343 King's Park

Avenue? They say this is where he wrote HMS Ulysses. No 16 Hillend Road,

Clarkston? There's a picture showing him typing The Guns of Navarone in

this house.

* 18 May: Drove to Inverness and over Kessock Bridge to Muir of Ord in

time for lunch with brother Gillespie and his wife, Margaret. Beautiful

afternoon so sat in garden and took copious notes.

Then we drove to the childhood scene of Daviot and saw their father's

kirk and manse and the parents' gravestone. Called on the two Miss

Mackintoshes at The Doune, who lived there even before the MacLeans

arrived in 1922. What's more, they have a sister, Barbara, a very

special lady in Inverness who says she will see me tomorrow.

* 19 May: Two delightful witnesses today. First, Dr Macdonald, rector

of Inverness Royal Academy when Alistair was a pupil in the early 1930s.

He's 90 but remembers him well.

Then to that very special lady, Barbara Mackintosh (Mrs Fraser), who

was actually MacLean's very first teacher at Daviot when he arrived in

1927, at the age of five. This is wonderful stuff. But it is still only

his early days.

* 8 June: Alistair MacLean's lawyer, David Bishop, will see me today.

First Shuttle to London. Mr Bishop is of New Zealand stock and full of

fascinating information. He still handles the income from on-going

copyrights. I'm getting some idea of the business deals, film

connections, marriage tangles, the world travel.

The more the story broadens out, the more I realise how much I still

don't know! In refusing to see me, one of MacLean's sons said his father

led a mundane life. Did he really know his Dad?

Lunch at Russell Hotel and on to Ian Chapman's fashionable home at

Cheam, where there was so much more to discuss.

* 12 June: Still very thin on MacLean's wartime experience. Naval

records department not much help but they tell of a club for Russian

Convoy veterans. Drove out to Drymen to meet one of them, Tom Brown, who

served on MacLean's ship. Have found another shipmate, Charlie Dunbar,

from Keith in Banffshire.

* 2 July: Still very sketchy on his film connections but that should

improve today. First Shuttle to London and on to Pinewood Studios to

meet American film producer Elliott Kastner.

Before we start, he is bawling down the phone to some poor guy in

Beverly Hills, telling him to get his ass here, there and everywhere --

and it's only 4.30am Los Angeles time. I gather the sonofabitch is as

dumb as the day Kastner first employed him 35 years ago.

Despite the inauspicious start, however, I rather warm to Kastner. He

tells it straight, no bullshit. He had good times and bad times with

Alistair MacLean but they produced four films together, starting with

Where Eagles Dare.

After that marathon, staggered along corridors of the magnificent

Pinewood mansion, each door with the name of another brave hopeful,

trying to earn a crust from films. Next call Peter Snell, the Canadian

who owns British Lion and was another key man in Alistair's flirtation

with cinema.

* 5 August: Eden battling on bravely with her illness. Took her to the

Bolshoi in Glasgow last night. Yet another Shuttle to London, train to

Hertfordshire to meet Lewis Jenkins, well-connected London wine merchant

who opened new vistas for MacLean. He even introduced him, unwittingly,

to his second wife and still regrets it.

* 22 August: Morning train to Euston. Appointment at Waldorf with

David Osborn, one of Hollywood screenwriters chased out by McCarthy

witch-hunt, who was once engaged for film of MacLean's greatest book,

HMS Ulysses. But it was never produced. Why? Better ask an Italian

aristocrat, Count Giovanni Volpi, who bought the film rights more than

20 years ago. How do you find these people?

* 1 September: Well, this is it. Having traced the mysterious Count

Volpi, leaving today for Venice. En route, however, I'm dropping in past

Geneva to see if the first Mrs MacLean is at home. A local contact tells

me she is often back in her native Germany and he doesn't rate my

chances.

I drive round Lake Geneva, up past Richard Burton's old house, to

behold the beautiful Villa Murat. By the main gate, a large dog comes

loping towards me. At the side door, an elegant lady is wondering who

the stranger can be. I recognise her from early photos; it's Gisela.

I explain myself, as she nervously asks me in, and try to reassure her

about the book, which is in the good hands of Alistair's former

publisher. Yes yes, but what questions would I be asking her?

Could I perhaps just ask the questions, many of them about everyday

routines, with the promise not to pursue them if she didn't wish it? She

agreed to this and we settled to a dialogue which actually produced more

information than I could have anticipated.

Wasn't it much better to come face to face? She agreed and said she

felt easier now. But my plane to Venice was beckoning and I would need

to order a taxi. No no, she would drive me to Geneva Airport and, yes, I

could come back to see her again.

Dashing through check-in, I caught my breath as the plane soared

towards Italy. Phew! No U-turn was ever more welcome than the changed

attitude of the first Mrs MacLean. How much clearer the story is

becoming.

Onwards to Venice, water-taxi to the Grand Canal, to be delivered to

the door of Volpi Palace. The Count received me in his study and

explained how he came to own the film rights of HMS Ulysses -- and why

he had never made it.

Now for supper at a friend's house, as his speedboat races up the

Grand Canal and drops us off at . . . call this a house? So this was how

the Merchants of Venice lived. [Maud was never like this!] After a

memorable evening, have I stirred the Count into a revived interest in

the film? Back to aul' claes and porritch in the morning, Glasgow by

teatime.

* 17 October: 7am plane to London, en route to Dubrovnik in

Yugoslavia, where Alistair spent his last eight years. Stopping off in

London, however, to meet a vital witness. Have already met one of his

secretaries, Jacky Leiper, a Glasgow girl in Geneva. Now for his

longest-serving secretary, Sabrina Carver, who lives near Harrods.

Nobody knew him better than Miss Carver. Talked for three hours before

another taxi dash to Heathrow. Plane to Rome late in getting there; had

to leave my luggage spinning on the carousel to catch only connection to

Dubrovnik. Hope they can send it on; don't even have a clean shirt.

Haven't been to this magnificent city since 1953. Wherever did the years

go?

Met by Avdo Cimic, Alistair's landlord, chauffeur, minder, and general

factotum during the final years. Booked in at Hotel Argentina. Three

days with Avdo, talking, dining, visiting his home in the rocks

overlooking the Adriatic. So this is where Alistair played out his time.

His rented rooms remain untouched -- the chair, typewriter, Times

atlas, and magnifying glass. Avdo keeps them as a shrine.

* 21 October: Back home. Eden not so well. Have cancelled all

interviewing. Wonder if I have the stomach to continue with this book.

* 4 December: Am on my own for the first time ever. Eden died last

month, in the prime of life. Must get away; so leaving this morning for

California. Plane from Glasgow to Chicago and on to Los Angeles.

Checked in for eight days at Beverly Hills Hotel. Seeing Alistair

MacLean's son, Michael (the only one of the three who has agreed to see

me); also J. Lee Thompson, who directed The Guns of Navarone, and Burt

Nodella, who collaborated with MacLean on outline ideas [the ones which

led to recent court case where HarperCollins was fined for the

projection of MacLean's name on books where his stories were written up

by others].

All very fascinating. Relaxing by poolside of Beverly Hills and

feeling that, piece by piece, the story is coming together.

* 5 January 1991: Still some outstanding interviews but have decided

to make a start on actual writing of the book today. From the mass of

typed-up notes -- at least 100,000 words -- where do you begin? Head

down. Here goes!:

''The story of Alistair MacLean had come full circle that bright and

windy day of 4 May, 1987, when a modest gathering of friends and

relatives assembled in the trim little kirk of Daviot, just south of

Inverness, in that broad and dramatic sweep of the Scottish Highlands .

. .''

* 4 April: It's finished. Sending off the manuscript to Chapmans

today. It's been my worst-ever year and I could have done with more

time. I feel there are deficiencies.

* 12 April: First plane to London to see Marjory Chapman. She agrees

there is still some work to be done on manuscript. There are flaws and

some gaps to be filled. I have used too much direct speech for a

biography; paraphrasing is the name of this game. They will give me

those extra weeks to get it as I want it.

* 11 June: Been back to see Gisela in Geneva, Sabrina in London, and

Gillespie at Muir of Ord and have added other people who knew Alistair,

like Barry Norman, film critic, Bill Knox, Glasgow thriller writer, Kurt

Unger, film director. Now much better pleased with my efforts. Hope the

Chapmans think likewise.

* 24 June: Great news! Letter from Marjory Chapman: ''Warmest

congratulations. The MacLean manuscript is transformed. It now reads as

a totally irresistible biography and portrays a complex, interesting man

quite superbly.''

Did neighbours see me punch the air with delight or hear the shriek of

relief?

''Do it,'' Eden had said. ''It's a wonderful opportunity.'' And I did

and now it was behind me. Pouring myself a glass of whisky, I raised it

to an empty chair -- and felt glad for the strength which had seen me

through.

* 'Alistair MacLean: A Life' is published by Chapmans at #18.