The Search For Bond Part 2 of an exclusive 3-part article

Sean Connery’s resignation from the Bond films came at a momentous time. The Sixties were drawing to a close and the state of world cinema was very different to that of 1962 when Dr. No burst onto the screen. Society too had vastly altered, this was the era of the counter-culture, drugs and the Civil Rights movement and the series' producers wondered how much of this social change should be reflected in the new James Bond. While we were never going to get a paisley-shirted, weed-toting Bond who says, ‘groovy Blofeld baby, groovy,’ there was potential here to reinvent the character. Instead, what everybody wanted was a Sean Connery clone.

Early in 1968 the search for the new Bond began in earnest, principally to find an unknown who would have no associations with any other role. Actor’s agencies and provincial repertory companies were trawled for suitable talent, “testing the people who had that sort of sexual quality that Sean had” according to Peter Hunt, the man charged with directing the new 007 movie.

In a press interview Harry Saltzman suggested that Roger Moore would make a great Bond. “But we couldn’t use him. He’s too well known as The Saint. So it’ll have to be an unknown, and finding good, undiscovered actors of 30 is not easy.” Not easy, indeed. To get an idea of just how wide the producers were casting their net, or perhaps an example of how desperate they were, among the people approached was a television journalist for ITN’s News at Ten called Peter Snow, later to become something of a TV legend with his ‘swing-o-meter’ in BBC General Election broadcasts. Was it Snow's trouble shooting television persona as a roving reporter, covering everything from bank raids in London to war zones in the Middle East, that prompted EON to contact him? ‘I went round to this house in the middle of Mayfair,’ Snow recalls. 'It was a fairly modest little house, and there was a small grill on the door. I knocked on the door and I saw a little slot opening and these eyes stared out at me and started looking me up and down and I saw a definite sense of the eyes dropping when they saw how tall I was, I am six foot five. So the eye let me in and said, “Do sit down, we are considering from a wide range of people who should be James Bond. But to be perfectly honest from the moment I saw how tall you were outside I realized that you were probably not going to qualify.” And I said, “Oh I’m very disappointed to hear that.” We had a very pleasant chat and then I went off and that was it.’

So it was far from being a proper audition, or even interview. ‘I wasn’t asked how well I could act. I was simply looked at by this guy. Now I am unusually tall, so that may have squashed my chances I’m afraid. I was delighted to be contacted, it seemed to be a great compliment and I would have been very sorely tempted to do it if I had been asked. But I’m very glad that I wasn’t asked because I would have missed out on a lifetime of journalism. Then I suppose I could have tried to get back into it again, or maybe there would have been other offers of film parts, but I think once you do James Bond you’re lucky not to get typecast. But my whole life would have been different. I’m sure I would have had a whale of a time, but alas it never transpired.’

Even more improbable than Peter Snow as James Bond was Lord Lucan, who was to famously disappear from his home in London in November 1974 after his children’s nanny was found murdered. He was never seen again. No actor to be sure, but the aristocrat’s background was exemplary. The 7th Earl of Lucan, he was born in 1934, educated at Eton and served in the Coldstream Guards. He was also an inveterate gambler and man about town. It’s unclear how seriously he was considered for the role of 007, but considered he was, according to a couple of contemporary newspaper articles.

It was around this time that a young actor entered the scene who would become almost THE perennial Bond candidate, linked to the role for the next 15 or so years – Michael Billington. Born in 1941 in Blackburn, Lancashire, Billington began his career in theatre in a couple of West End musicals before appearing in small roles on television, and notably in UFO (1970-1973). Billington’s involvement in Bond began when Bud Ornstein, then Head of Production at United Artists in Europe, saw him in late night theatre and asked the actor to meet with him at the UA Offices. He told Billington that he would get some photographs done and show them to Saltzman. Surprisingly, Billington wasn’t sure about having his name put forward for Bond. 'For me the power of Connery’s impact in the role was formidable. I really didn’t want to be a ‘quasi Bond.’ Even though I think I could have played the character well I feared I would always seem second best.’ Billington wasn’t stupid, though, and realised that any publicity about his name linked to the 007 role would do his career prospects no harm whatsoever.

A few weeks later Billington was called in to meet with Peter Hunt about playing Bond in On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, even though he’d already heard news from the industry grapevine that a certain George Lazenby was under contract. ‘And when I saw a photograph of Lazenby I thought he had the perfect look for the role, so subsequently I put the possibility of my playing Bond completely out of my mind.’ Bond, though, was far from finished with Billington.

Another young English actor who believes he came as close as anyone to playing 007 was Patrick Mower. Born in Oxford in 1940, Mower was RADA trained and since the mid-60s had been appearing spasmodically in TV shows like Dixon of Dock Green and The Avengers plus a decent role in the cult Hammer horror film The Devil Rides Out (1968) with Christopher Lee. In his autobiography Mower recalled that his close brush with 007 began when his agent rang to say that Harry Saltzman wanted to see him. Michael Caine had left the Harry Palmer series but Saltzman wanted to make another film out of Len Deighton’s novels, featuring an all-new spy. Mower turned up at EON’s office, whose reception room was decked out with top name actors.

Determined to play it cool when he was called, Mower walked tall into the producer’s office – there was Saltzman seated at his desk and not too far from him was Broccoli. The two men looked at Mower intently. Suddenly Saltzman blurted out, ‘what’s your body like?’ A strange question Mower thought but answered. ‘I’ve never had any complaints. Everything’s in the right place.’

A few days later Mower was called in again, the Deighton project was in limbo, said Saltzman, ‘we want to see you about something else.’ Broccoli announced that they were searching for an actor to replace Connery as Bond. ‘Who are you thinking of?’ Mower asked, in all innocence. The producers didn’t reply but just stared back at him. Eventually the penny dropped. ‘You’re thinking of me.’ They nodded. ‘But Sean is a man, I’m a boy,’ said Mower, almost apologetically. ‘You’re a man Patrick,’ Saltzman replied. ‘Believe us. We think you’ve got it.’

For the next few weeks Mower had several meetings at EON with Saltzman & Broccoli, but believes that it was his own conceit and sense of humour that robbed him of the role. He’d go around the office humming the Bond theme and announcing, ‘the name’s Mower… Patrick Mower.’ Then when his agent rang to say that they were holding a screen test for Bond at Pinewood, he asked. ‘Is it just me they’re testing?’ When it transpired that there were to be 10 actors attending, Mower was crushed, and unable to face the test stayed at home, in floods of tears. “I’d had a part of a lifetime in the palm of my hand, and I had let it slip out,” he wrote. “No! I had thrown it away.”

The producers also cast their net over America and an actor who had become a household name playing a very different kind of action hero – Batman. Adam West had scored as the caped crusader in a hugely popular TV series and, according to the actor himself, was offered the Bond role over dinner one evening by Broccoli. West thought seriously about it but in the end declined, believing the character should be played by a British actor. It's the same reason Robert Wagner gave Broccoli for declining the role when he was approached not long after.

After a few months in which, according to Hunt, close on a hundred actors were interviewed or tested, a shortlist of five possible contenders was drawn up. Three were complete unknowns: Robert Campbell, of which next to nothing is known. Hans De Vries, a bit part player who appeared in a number of action TV series like The Saint (1966), Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased) (1969), Man In A Suitcase (1968), as a control room technician in You Only Live Twice (1967), and the victim of a flaming Apache arrow in Shalako (1968). Was this when he was spotted by producers? And Anthony Rogers, another TV bit part player in shows like The Avengers.

The most well-known of the group was John Richardson, who’d attended the Thunderball premiere with then girlfriend Martine Beswick. Classically handsome Richardson was born in Worthing, Sussex in 1934 and appeared in minor roles in films such as Mario Bava’s Black Sunday (1960). In the mid-60s Richardson seemed destined for stardom when he was cast as the male lead opposite Ursula Andress in the Hammer epic She (1965) and then as a grunting caveman who falls in love with Raquel Welch in One Million Years BC (1966).

Peter Hunt later recalled testing Richardson, who at the age of 32 was the same age Connery was for Dr. No. “He was a handsome boy but didn’t have that quality.” After losing out on Bond Richardson’s career failed to maintain momentum and eventually petered out after some forgettable continental movies. Richardson retired from acting in the 1990s, going on to become a noteworthy photographer.

The fifth member of the group proved the most significant – George Lazenby. Born September 5th 1939 in Canberra, Australia, Lazenby was pretty rebellious as a youth and left home aged 15. After a short stint in the army he took up mechanics before switching from mending cars to selling them, the same job he undertook after landing in London in 1964. By his own admission, Lazenby was a slob in those early days, the antithesis of 007; he sported long hair, was overweight and wore drab clothes. Going on holiday with a girl he decided to spruce himself up and on his return was spotted by fashion photographer Chard Jenkins, who suggested the young Aussie try out for male modelling. “English male models were at the time pale and rather effeminate,” said Jenkins. “George was rugged, tanned with a face that looked lived-in and very extrovert in that masculine, Aussie way.” Within a year Lazenby had become one of the highest paid models in Europe selling petrol, cigarettes and cosmetics and even made the break into television, appearing in a series of commercials as the ‘Big Fry Man’ who arrives at various exotic locations with a large box of chocolates.

Over at EON, casting director Dyson Lovell had been given the nightmare task of finding a replacement for Connery. ‘We’d explored the Roger Moore route,’ he recalls. 'But that didn’t work out. I was very keen on Tim Dalton and met him but he said he was far too young for it. So one went through this agonising search to find a Bond and we’d had no luck at all and then, and I don’t want to be held responsible for this, an agent called me up and said, “There’s this guy that you should meet, he’s not an actor, but he looks really good, you should really meet him.” Lovell agreed to meet Lazenby at EON’s office and was immediately struck by his appearance and manner. ‘He looked very good when he arrived. I talked to him and then I phoned Harry and said, “Listen there’s this guy in my office, he looks good, he’s not an actor so I don’t know if he can act, but I don’t want to send him away without somebody seeing him because he does look the part.” So Harry met him.’ That meeting with Saltzman must have gone well because a few days later the Bond team wanted to go ahead with a fully fledged test. Lazenby was stunned. “I’d never acted before and didn’t think I stood a chance.” So naïve was the Australian about the film industry that he’d never even heard of a screen test until he was invited to attend one.

The fact that Lazenby was only a model with no previous acting experience didn’t seem to daunt the Bond producers, indeed Dyson Lovell had already put together a list of male models that should be considered. At the time most of the successful male models working in Britain were Australians and one in particular had caught his attention, Gary Myers, who would shoot to fame later in the year as the first ever ‘Milk Tray Man’ in a series of classic TV ads in which he played a 007-type adventurer bracing numerous perils to deliver a box of chocolates to an exotic woman. He would also appear later in episodes of TV’s UFO.

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