Sir Bruce Forsyth was a ‘horrible, miserable, bossy child’ who was destined for stardom but says death of his brother during WWII haunted his career

FROM the age of eight, when he first saw Fred Astaire dance with Ginger Rogers, Bruce Forsyth knew he was destined for a career in showbusiness.

That trip to his local Regal cinema in Edmonton, North London, to watch his hero in Top Hat changed his life.

Bruce was so captivated by Astaire that he converted his parents’ front room into a makeshift dance studio, where he would spend hours trying to imitate his best-known moves on the red lino.

From that moment his parents knew that their son would never be happy unless he was allowed to try his luck on the stage.

And Bruce, affectionately called Bru or Boo Boo by his parents, was a lad used to getting what he wanted.

Born Bruce Forsyth-Johnson on February 22, 1928, the future Mr Showbiz was the youngest child of dad John, a garage owner, and mum Florence, following sister Maisie and brother John.

Bruce was always a handful, saying: “I was a nightmare to control. A horrible, miserable, bossy child who always wanted my own way.”

With his new obsession for tap dancing, that meant Florence making him costumes — complete with sequins — for competitions.

He was a slip of a boy and received a fair amount of stick from other boys, who branded him a “sissy”.

No coward though, Bruce took on his tormentors and boasted of giving one particularly obnoxious lad a “right pasting” after he underestimated young Boo Boo’s prowess with his fists.

In 1939, aged 11, Bruce made his first TV appearance, just weeks before the start of World War Two.

Come And Be Televised was an early version of The X Factor, with grown-ups and youngsters performing for host Jasmine Bligh.

Bruce breezed through his audition with a polished song-and-dance routine.

An impressed Jasmine asked Bruce to name his hero and his main ambition in life. Quick as a flash, he smiled and replied: “I want to be a famous dancer like Fred Astaire and buy my mother a fur coat.”

Bruce left the studio walking on air.

He was not even in his teens, yet had already had a taste of fame.

But there was no way this determined young showman was going to settle for that — he wanted to become one of the biggest stars in Britain.

Bruce left school at 14 with no qualifications but, with Winston Churchill keen to keep up morale amid Nazi bombing raids, all the theatres across the country were open to entertain the masses every night.

A shortage of acts gave Bruce, in the guise of his new act called Boy Bruce: The Mighty Atom, a chance to shine.

His first night was at the Theatre Royal in Bilston, near Wolverhampton.

It involved dressing up as a hotel bell boy, opening a series of suitcases, playing an accordion and ukulele, and finishing off with a tap dance.

Bruce described his performance as “truly dreadful”.

It was so bad that even his own relatives avoided him backstage afterwards. The Mighty Atom had bombed.

Such a disastrous baptism of fire has killed many fledgling showbiz careers — but Bruce was made of sterner stuff.

For the next few years he continued to learn the ropes, travelling around the country appearing in dingy theatres.

However, tragedy struck in May 1943 when Bruce’s brother, John, an RAF pilot, died when his bomber collided with another during a rescue mission in Scotland.

Bruce soldiered on and by the time the war ended, he had formed a double act with Les Roy, a drummer and dancer.

They celebrated VE Day on May 8, 1945, performing at the Whitehall Theatre, just down the road from Downing Street.

Bruce, then 17, clambered on to the theatre roof to watch the crowds below, only to find dancing girls were already up there, sunbathing topless.

They used halfpennies and, in some cases, larger half-crowns, to cover their nipples.

Frisky Bruce didn’t know which way to look.

He had been a boy living and working in an adult’s world, a pretty risqué environment for a lad brought up by two God-fearing Salvation Army members for whom any discussion of the birds and the bees was taboo.

Bruce recalled: “Sex was never, ever discussed in our house. I don’t even think my parents knew that homosexuality existed.”

He was surrounded by gorgeous female dancers who would not think twice about picking up men for sex at the digs shared with their teenage co-star.

Bruce longed for a slice of the action but was way too young to ever get an invite to the party.

As he complained later: “My chief problem was I was the youngest in the troupe. Love and sex were all around but not for me, it seemed. And I hadn’t got a clue how to change things.

"All the girls simply saw me as a kid, the baby of the show. They’d give me chocolate but nothing else.”

Bruce did finally shed his L plates, aged 19, while appearing in a show in Carlisle. It had not been a success and half the cast was laid off half way into its four-month run.

Those axed included Bruce and a pretty young dancer called Doris. Bruce had longed to ask her out but was too shy.

But with both of them out of a job and about to go their separate ways, Bruce knew this was his last chance.

After their final show together, they went out for a few drinks. Bruce drove her home in his Austin Ten and they became very amorous in the car.

He later recalled: “I agree cars are not the best places for making love but that’s where it happened.

"Despite the uncomfortable, cramped circumstances, I christened my car and we did each other a bit of good.”

By now Bruce was no longer the Mighty Atom, having outgrown his first stage name.

With his birth name too much of a mouthful, Bruce initially liked the idea of being known as Jack Johnson.

But with that already taken by a boxer who went on to become world heavyweight champion, he eventually settled on Bruce Forsyth.

Haunted for 70 years by tragedy of lost brother

THE pain of losing his big brother never left Brucie.

RAF pilot John was killed during a training exercise off the Scottish coast, two years before the end of World War Two.

As recently as 2011, Sir Bruce said: “My brother was only 20 when he died. I’ve lived 63 years more than he ever had a chance to. It doesn’t seem right. Why didn’t he have a longer life? Or at least a share of my years?

“We could have split that time up between us. Perhaps he might have become a Sir before me, who knows?”

Five years separated the brothers and they were very close. Bruce adored John, describing him later as a “really loveable lad”.

John was thrilled to be playing a crucial role in the war effort and loved every minute of his time in the RAF.

Everything changed in May 1943.

Why didn't he have a longer life? We could have split time between us

Bruce, then only 15, returned home after performing as the Mighty Atom. From the moment he opened the front door he could tell something was wrong.

A senior RAF officer was standing in front of them. He had some devastating news.

John’s Wellington bomber had crashed on a night-time training exercise in Scotland a few days earlier and, along with 11 others, he had been posted as missing.

Details of what happened that night only came to light a few years ago, when Bruce received a letter from Margaret Morrell, who had been researching many of the fatal crashes that happened in that part of Scotland during the war.

Margaret sent Bruce documents showing that after one Wellington had misjudged its height and crashed into the sea, John’s plane was one of two bombers that went out looking for survivors.

With their lights on, flying just above the water, they collided.

Although seven men survived, it was one of the worst domestic flying disasters to hit the RAF during the war. The news shocked Bruce to the core.

He was desperately proud of the fact that his brother had died serving his country. But he knew, too, that John would far rather die from enemy fire.

Bruce was spooked by something that happened to him the same day John died.

He had hurt himself during a game of rounders and, feeling sick, went to lie down.

He fell asleep and dreamt he was in an aeroplane, flying low over the sea, feeling the need to jump out of the plane.

It was at this point that he woke as he tried to leap out of his bed.

At the time, Bruce dismissed it as a strange dream.

A few days later, when told of his brother’s accident, he could see it as nothing other than a premonition.

• WORDS extracted from Brucie: A Celebration of Sir Bruce Forsyth 1928-2017 by Jules Stenson to be published by John Blake on August 29 at £7.99. Adaptation
  by Doug Wight