A Mug Named Frank, the first episode of series five, in some ways feels like an addendum to series four. There’s the Brighton setting, the black and white visuals (albeit only due to the colour strike) and the reassuring presence of Mrs Mortimer (Pauline Delaney). And yet …

Series four of Public Eye was very much an authored piece. Roger Marshall wrote all seven episodes, which helped to give them a serial-like feel, but for the remainder of PE’s run his input would be drastically reduced. Producer Michael Chapman penned this installment, which concerns itself with uprooting Frank from Brighton and settling him down in Windsor.

Marshall would later cast a slightly withering eye over the direction of the Windsor series, labelling it as rather cosy (this interview is a fascinating read). Although it’s worth noting that it was Marshall who created Mrs Mortimer and established a “will they, won’t they” vibe between her and Frank.

How Marshall would have developed their relationship is unknown but it seems unlikely he would have gone in the direction of Chapman’s story – which not only abruptly wrenches them apart, but also rather off-handedly negates most of Frank’s Brighton experience. And this is why I find this episode a rather curious watch – rather like The West Wing after Aaron Sorkin’s departure, A Mug Named Frank feels inauthentic (Chapman attempting, but not really succeeding, to mimic Marshall’s voice).

The main plot is quite simple. Frank befriends an old lady, Mrs. Stuart (Nora Nicholson), who he spots in the supermarket popping a tin into her shopping bag, presumably with the intention of stealing it. He manages to diffuse the situation, but this plot-thread isn’t really developed. Was it an absent-minded slip, a cry for help or a theft borne out of necessity? We never find out, so it appears to have been little more than a clumsy way of bringing Frank and her together.

She lives in a rather threadbare couple of rooms with only one object of value – a silver box – which was given to her by her son, Gerald (Barry Foster), shortly after the war. He’s a clearly something of a shifty type (I think it’s the moustache) and is keen to “borrow” the box in order to raise some money for his failing business.

Frank knows him of old – they were fellow jailbirds for a brief while – and their clash towards the end of the episode is a definite highlight. As is André Morell’s cameo as Gerald’s rich uncle, who mockingly declines to bail him out. The scene adds little to the story overall, but I’ll never turn down a few minutes of Morell.

Travelling to Windsor in search of the silver box, Frank meets Inspector Percy Firbank (Ray Smith) and Nell Holdsworth (Brenda Cavendish), two characters who will loom large in the episodes to come. Although I take Marshall’s “cosy” point, the series quickly establishes itself in Windsor – shaking off the last vestiges of the Brighton era with a crop of strong scripts from a pool of first-rate writers.

The first noticeable thing about A Fixed Address is that it’s in colour.  The original broadcast, back in 1969, was in black and white, but the programme was recorded in colour as a test for the forthcoming switchover.  It takes a little getting used to, as after six episodes of moody, black and white stories it’s something of a jolt.

The story opens with Frank and Mrs Mortimer working together on the dishes.  It’s another example of how comfortable he’s become with her – he’s now essentially one of the family.  The only guests staying are a young couple – Peter (Barrie Rutter) and Rosemary (Deborah Grant).  Peter is rather oafish and irritating whilst Rosemary is quiet and polite.  They don’t seem to be enjoying themselves especially and Frank wonders why.  This allows Mrs Mortimer to demonstrate her detective skills for once.  She tells Frank that they’re not married (she knew this when Peter didn’t know whether Rosemary liked kippers!) and this explains why they don’t quite seem at ease with each other.  She tells Frank that apart from enjoying love-making “they’ve nothing else in common.  They’re going to make themselves very miserable.”

It’s a nice moment that forges the bond between Mrs Mortimer and Frank a little tighter, although we’ll see upcoming events threaten this.  Frank’s looking to start up on his own again, as an enquiry agent, and he’s searching for offices.  When his probation officer, Jim Hull, calls round, she lets slip this information – which comes as a surprise to him.  He then offers Mrs Mortimer a word of advice (“Marker’s a very lonely man, I mean he’s a lone wolf.  Don’t make too many plans involving him.”)  Needless to say, this doesn’t go down well.

Events then take an unexpected turn when Mrs Mortimer’s estranged husband, Denis (Philip Brack) appears on the doorstep.  This provides the meat of the episode as he enjoys several spiky encounters with Frank as well as some memorable sparring matches with his wife.  He’s a charmer – but he walked out of his marriage seven years ago and it’s clear that his presence isn’t welcomed by her.  But why has he come back?

Eventually it becomes clear.  He offers her the chance to travel to Malaya with him.  It’s a three year trip and there’s plenty of benefits.  “House servants, change of air three times time a year.  Free travel, Siam, Penang, Hong Kong.”  It sounds tempting, but it’s obvious that the offer wasn’t made out of love or affection – as Denis’ company favours married employees, rather than single ones.  Mrs Mortimer has great pleasure in telling him no and her refusal means he doesn’t waste time hanging around.

Rosemary and Peter’s relationship also founders, so this isn’t the best episode for relationships.  Unless we count Frank and Mrs Mortimer?  Series four of Public Eye was essentially the story of Frank Marker’s journey back into society. At the start, he’d just come out of prison and was something of a drifter, with no home or friends.  By A Fixed Address, he has a friend (and she clearly wants to take things further) and a home, plus the chance to start his business again in Brighton.

But series five would see all of this jettisoned in favour of a move to Windsor.  This may have been down to a change in the production team.  Series four was entirely written by Roger Marshall, but he didn’t contribute a single script to the next series.  Presumably the new producer (Michael Chapman) decided that the Brighton location had run its course and decided to move Frank on again.  This is something a of shame, since there was still areas that could have been developed (for example, Mrs Mortimer’s guest house would have been a rich source of potential clients and problems for Frank).

But notwithstanding this, series four of Public Eye saw the series hit a consistently high standard – thanks to the scripting of Roger Marshall and the fine casts, headed by the incomparable Alfred Burke.

Helped by the sole writer on this series, Roger Marshall, there’s a strong sense of continuity between the stories – so that at times it feels more like a serial than a series.  This is evident in Case for the Defence, which harks back to events and characters first seen in Paid in Full.

During Paid in Full, Marker tangled with Detective Constable Broome (Leslie Lawton) who was convinced that Frank had stolen a colleague’s pay-packet.  Eventually the true culprit is caught and Broome returns here to try and make amends for the injustice Frank suffered (losing his job at the builder’s yard).

Frank’s now got another job, stacking supermarket shelves, but it’s obviously far from satisfying.  Broome tells him that there’s a position vacant at a local detective agency.  It’s a tempting possibility – although it would mean the fiercely independent Frank would have to work with others (which isn’t always his strongest point).  But the chance of returning to what he knows best is irresistible, so he accepts the offer of the agency’s owner, Joe Rylands (Stanley Meadows).

His first case involves gathering evidence for the defence concerning the forthcoming trial of Barry Osborne (Billy Harmon).  This is another link back to Paid in Full – as Marker encountered Billy during that story at the police station (Marker was in another interview room, discussing the wages theft).  It’s an undisputed fact that Billy killed a garage owner, Flockton, by stabbing him with a screwdriver.  There seems to be no reason for this, which is even more baffling when you consider that Billy comes from a wealthy family and has received every privilege.

His father, Ben Osborne (William Lucas), is keen to impress on Marker that he wants his son to get off, by whatever means possible.  It’s a powerful performance from Lucas, portraying a single-minded wealthy man (who’s made his money by being the main meat supplier for the county) used to buying whatever or whoever he wants.  This is going to place him on an inevitable collision course with Marker, who prizes the truth highly and will refuse to be cowed or intimidated by him.

Frank is able to establish that Flockton had gone to prison a decade earlier for GBH.  Osborne is delighted – it gives them a chance to craft a plea of self defence.  Together, Osborne and Frank visit Flockton’s victim, Mr Jackson (Richard Bird). but a series of strokes has rendered him virtually unintelligible.  Osborne’s pressurising of the sick old man disgusts Frank, who exits the house.

By now, Frank’s seen more than enough to be convinced that Osborne will do anything, including bribery, to ensure that he can produce witnesses to support his line of defence (that Barry was attacked by Flockton and inadvertently caused his death whilst defending himself).  Frank corners Rylands and lets him know what’s been going on.

MARKER: I think you ought to know that you could be letting yourself in for a great deal of trouble.
RYLANDS: How?
MARKER: Friend Osborne and his cheque book is going around getting at witnessess. Bribing them, getting them to perjure themselves.
RYLANDS: Strong words.
MARKER: Well you’d better hear them now than in the dock.
RYLANDS: Any proof?
MARKER: Not yet.
RYLANDS: Well I’m glad you let me in on this, Marker. Yes, they’re very pleased with you, you know. I’m delighted.
MARKER: Well I don’t want another job to fold up underneath me.
RYLANDS: You’re quite right. But you must remember Marker, when you’re paid to turn up stones, you mustn’t get too queasy at what you find underneath.
MARKER: I’m not queasy, but I just don’t want to be there when he offers the judge fifty quid and a years free meat.

In the end, Barry decides to plead guilty, despite his father’s protestations.  Exactly what happened at the garage is never established, and never will be.  It’s possible that Barry was defending himself, but equally it could just have been a motiveless murder.  Later in the story, Frank talks to a friend of Barry’s, Dorry Milner (Pauline Challoner).  She’s convinced that the blame for Barry’s current situation can be firmly laid at his father’s door.  “He screwed up Barry pretty efficiently.”

There’s no pat resolution to this story.  Marker was paid to do a job, which he did to the best of his ability.  Barry’s decision to plead guilty manages to negate most of Frank’s investigations – so what we take away from Case for the Defence is the unscrupulous nature of Ben Osbourne and his assertion that the truth can be bought.

Marker’s rarely in the position to be able to pick and choose his clients and his conflicts with them, when he comes to realise that their aims are ones he is morally unable to respect, will fuel the drama of many of the episodes to come.

When one of his colleagues, Arthur Wilson (Maurice Good), has his pay-packet stolen, Frank Marker is the obvious suspect.

The legacy of his criminal record and how it colours other people’s opinions of him is the main thrust of this episode.  Although his criminal past should have been a secret at the firm (only the owner, Kendrick, knew officially) somehow it’s public knowledge – which places him firmly in the frame.

While the police, in the form of Detective Constable Broome (Leslie Lawton), are making enquiries, Frank is totally oblivious to the oncoming storm.  He’s enjoying an afternoon off and has decided to do some shopping.  He passes by an antiques shop and is rather taken with a china figure he sees in the shop window.  It’s absolutely the last thing you would expect Marker to be interested in, and his reason for being drawn to it allow us to explore some previously unknown facets of his character.

He tells the shop’s owner (Susan Richards) that his family had something similar when he was a child.  “Must have been the only thing we had that was worth anything.”  She presumes that it must have been a happy family, since he has an attraction to this object.  Frank tells her, matter-of-factly, that no, they weren’t particularly happy and he’s not able to articulate fully the reason why this figurine appeals to him.  This is a lovely character moment for Marker and it seems to exist in the story purely for this reason – to shine a little light on this incredibly private man.

Frank has a visit from Broome who accuses him of the theft.  Marker vehemently denies it.  “And I’m favourite?  Yes, of course.  Well go on, search the place.  Take the bed apart, take the carpet up.”  The indignity of being visited by the police and having his room searched obviously affects him (he eats little at dinner time).  It’s then interesting to see how Mrs Mortimer and Enright (who, like Marker, is an ex-con lodging with Mrs Mortimer) react.

When Broome calls, Frank is out and although Mrs Mortimer agrees he can wait, it’s clear from her tone that she views the police officer with hostility.  Enright turns down Frank’s offer of a drink at the local pub, claiming he’s got some work to do, but since he’s coming towards the end of his probation no doubt he’s reluctant to get involved with anyone who’s attracted the attention of the police.

Later, Mrs Mortimer brings Frank a whisky in his room.  They then have a heart-to-heart discussion, which is a major step towards developing their friendship.  She tells him that she believes he’s innocent and goes on to explain that contrary to Frank’s surmise, she isn’t a widow – her husband is alive and (sadly for her) well.  Frank, as he so often is, is more of a listener than a talker, but it’s another well crafted character-based scene from Roger Marshall.

Next day, Frank has to face the accusing stares of his work colleagues.  He approaches Wilson and tells him that he didn’t steal his money and although Wilson says he believes him, from the tone of his voice it’s apparent there’s still considerable doubt.  Alfred Burke, once again, is on great form here, crackling with anger as he faces down Wilson.  “You lost eighteen quid, I could lose eighteen months.”

He does have some supporters though.  Kendrick’s secretary, Jenny (Tania Trude) believes him and she does assist in clearing his name.  Wearing a selection of ridiculously short skirts, Trude was a very appealing presence in both this and the previous story.  She only has a handful of television credits, of which Public Eye was her penultimate one.  Where she is or what she’s doing now is something of a mystery, but she’s one of those actresses that managed to light up the screen and therefore leaves you wondering why she didn’t have a much longer career.

Thanks in part to Jenny, the truth eventually comes out.  Wilson’s money was stolen by his friend Starkie (Brian Croucher on fine form as a loud-mouthed yob).  Starkie says he only took it as a joke, in order to teach Wilson a lesson (Starkie’s miffed that Wilson never wants to go out anymore, instead he prefers to stay at home with his family).

That should be that then, but Kendrick is forced, reluctantly, to let Marker go.  He says he doesn’t want to, but he’s been advised that Frank’s continued presence would be a “disruptive element”.  Again, Burke’s first-class here, railing against the injustice of it all.  But it’s all to no avail, and so the episode ends with Frank walking out of the yard for the last time.

Welcome to Brighton? was the first episode of Public Eye‘s fourth series, originally broadcast in 1969.  It was also the first series to be made by Thames (the previous three were ABC productions).  Sadly, only a handful of episodes from the ABC years exist (a mere five out of forty one).  Given how good these surviving episodes are, it’s a great pity that so few escaped the archive purges – but luckily all of the Thames episodes are present and correct.

The fourth series is noteworthy for several reasons – firstly it’s the shortest series of Public Eye (seven episodes) and secondly it’s the only one where all the episodes were penned by a single writer – in this case, Roger Marshall (who co-created the series with Anthony Marriott).  Having just the one writer allows for a unity of characterisation – which is particularly important, since most of this series revolves around Marker himself.

When a show has an actor as good as Alfred Burke, it’s understandable that the scripts would be tailored to his many strengths.  So series four of Public Eye is concerned with Marker’s journey back into society first and foremost, and we don’t see him back in his old job as an enquiry agent until later in the run.

At the end of the final episode of series three (Cross That Palm When We’ll Come To It) Marker was convicted of handling stolen goods (although he was innocent) and sentenced to two years imprisonment.  Welcome to Brighton? opens with him in his last few days at Ford Open Prison, prior to his release.  There’s plenty of people ready to offer advice, such as fellow con Jakeman (George Sewell) and the Governor (Martin Dempsey).  Both, in their different ways, are somewhat pessimistic about Frank’s chances.

Frank tells Jakeman that he plans to go straight, but Jakeman isn’t convinced – as he believes that the police will constantly be on his back.  “Once you’re in their little black book, you’re there forever.  They’ll be leaning on you, turning you over.”  This is something we see borne out later in the series, though Frank’s done his time and is now a free man, he still has to face the suspicion of the police and others – once a con, always a con, it seems.

The Governor is concerned that Frank is a solitary individual, with no apparent friends or family.  “Have you always been so withdrawn? Or has prison made you like that?” Frank counters that he’s still the same person he’s always been and the Governor suggests he should try changing – “bend with the wind occasionally”.  In the Governor’s opinion, without people look out for him, he’s likely to re-offend again.

Frank’s release day comes and he’s driven down to the railway station in a Black Maria.  This obviously marks him down as a released prisoner and he has to face the curious and accusing stares of his fellow passengers.  The probation service have set him up with a job in Brighton and also accommodation – at a bed-and-breakfast run by a Mrs Mortimer (Pauline Delaney).  Mrs Mortimer takes in the occassional ex-criminal (provided they’re not violent, she says she doesn’t want to wake up in heaven) as something of a civic duty and welcomes Frank into her home.  Although she only has a single scene in this story, during series four Mrs Mortimer will become the closest thing to a friend that we’ve ever seen Frank have.

After checking out his room, Frank goes for a walk around Brighton.  The most notable occurrence is a meeting with Grace (Heather Canning).  She spies him drinking a bottle of whisky by the seafront and offers him the use of her toothmug back at her flat – he readily agrees and it’s clear that there’s more than whisky on offer.  It’s uncharacteristic of Frank to pick up a total stranger, but after two years and more in prison, it’s understandable.  When he goes to the toilet, she steals some money from his wallet and Frank, when he returns, knows instantly that something’s wrong.  Alfred Burke here (as he is throughout) is excellent, as we see the repressed anger bubbling just beneath the surface.  Marker is usually a pretty laid-back character, but circumstances change that.  He nearly strikes her and has no compunction is forcibly removing the money from her clutches.  He does leave the whisky with her though, as a consolation.

If Weclome to Brighton? feels like a series of vignettes, then that’s a fair assessment.  The next concerns Jakeman’s wife, Freda (Anne Ridler).  Jakeman asked Frank to visit her and find out why she hasn’t replied to his letters or visited him recently.  This he does and he tells her that a wife who doesn’t stand by her husband in prison can’t be much good.  This is the signal for Freda to tell Frank in no uncertain terms exactly what she thinks.  “He’s safely banged away in his cell.  Every time responsibility comes up, he’s off, never fails.  Well, you’re all the same.  Half of you run back inside every time some little problem comes up you don’t want to cope with.  You’ll be back there, you see.”  There’s plenty more where that came from and Freda’s speech highlights how a prison sentence affects the people left on the outside just as much as those inside.

So Welcome to Brighton? is not only a series of vignettes, but it’s a series of  vignettes where Frank come off second best (particularly in his encounters with Grace and Freda).  It’s a sign that his new life in Brighton will be far from smooth.

Written by Anthony Skene
Directed by Jim Goddard

Chief Librarian Paul Ainsworth (Leon Sinden) hires Frank Marker to find out how a picture of his wife Marie (Sylvia Kay) ends up in the Library’s photographic competition.  It’s a tasteful nude portrait (taken from behind) which copies a famous painting – and has been dubbed the Bromsgrove Venus.

Ainsworth is much older than his wife and Frank puts his finger on the nub of the matter.  “You think you don’t deserve her, don’t you? She’s beautiful and French and clever and you’re just a ordinary middle-aged Englishman”.  His first port of call is John Ingleby (Timothy Carlton) who entered the photograph in the competition.  Frank has to work hard to discover the truth and come to a conclusion that will keep the Ainsworth’s marriage intact.

The Bromsgrove Venus is the last surviving ABC episode and the only story to exist from the third series. There’s plenty to enjoy here – such as Frank blackmailing Ingleby in his quest to find out who took the photo.  He knows Ingleby didn’t (he just saw it on display in a local photographic shop, recognised Ainsworth’s wife and pinched it) but he’s no compunction in engaging his unwilling assistance to help to solve the mystery.

The trail sends Frank to a box number at a newsagents where he meets his match.  All of his persuasive charm cuts no ice with the old lady behind the counter (Daphne Heard) who chases him out of the shop with her broom!  Marie is more successful with her (she gives her money) and she manages to get the address of the box number.

Marie then visits Frank with the address (she can’t bear to go herself) and explains that she’s been blackmailed for years – she pays five pounds a month to this box number.  It’s maybe the only weakness of the story that Marie would independently decide to engage Frank’s services (unaware that her husband already has).  The box number leads Frank to a dance studio where he professes a desire to brush up on his Tango skills!  And he’s not a bad mover.

Given how few episodes exist from the first three series, it’s difficult to gauge the overall quality of Public Eye’s early years – but based on the little we do have and the later Thames series, it does seem an awful pity that so much was wiped.

Series four will see Frank Marker relocate to Brighton following his release from prison.  But that’s another story.

Written by Roger Marshall
Directed by Kim Mills

Marker’s relocated to Birmingham – a new city and a fresh start.  The first job for Frank is to find an office – which he does at the back of a local estate agent.  It’s somewhat dingy and overlooks a timber yard, but it’s still a snip at £4.00 a week, furnished.  His first client is Mrs Jessup (Pauline Delaney) who hires him to find her missing husband.  She asks him if he’s good at finding people and Marker replies it that depends on “how well they’re hidden. How far they’ve gone. How long they’ve been gone and then on whether or not they want to be found”.  It seems a straightforward case, but as so often happens, Frank later finds out that he hasn’t been told the whole story ….

Public Eye would regularly relocate to new cities (later series found Marker in Brighton and then Windsor) and refreshing the location does help to shake the stories up.  We get to see a bit of Birmingham in this story as he walks the streets looking for Mrs Jessup’s husband.

Pauline Delaney would later return to Public Eye during the fourth series as Mrs Mortimer, the closest thing to a friend that Frank ever has.  Here, she plays a completely different character – initially she’s the concerned wife, but later we scratch a little deeper under the surface to uncover the truth.  When Frank learns that Donald Jessup left three years ago, he begins to smell a rat and when he finally tracks him down he understands just how he’s been used

Roy Dotrice is Donald Jessup, or as he’s now called, Donald Scott, and Virginia Stride is Karen Scott.  Roger Marshall plays a good wrong-footing trick as the audience is allowed to make an inference about their relationship, which turns out to be incorrect.

Along the way Frank bumps into various characters, my favourite is Angie (Diana Beevers), who’s intrigued by the notion that Frank’s a private detective, asks him to sample the punch she’s made (judging by his expression it packs quite a kick) and then invites him to stay for her party – the carrot is that afterwards she’ll look for Jessup’s forwarding address.  Marker agrees and Angie asks him to answer the door.  “Don’t forget you’re mine” she says, a sentiment that’s at the heart of the story.

Next Episode – Works with Chess, Not with Life