The most angst-ridden sub-category of the very rich – admittedly a lucky bunch to start with – must surely contain those who have inherited a British country house, along with the exhortation to keep it up. Imagine the anxiety of knowing that one is custodian of a large, crumbling pile of distinguished architecture, stuffed with meaningful antiquities and perpetually besieged by damp, dry rot and taxes. For those of us who are already reliably paralysed by small-scale admin, it would be enough to drive you to drink or worse. In contrast, the landed gentry who survive best in this modern terrain must be energetic, ruthless and ingenious; in all probability possessing similar characteristics to those which propelled their ancestors to social prominence in the first place.
This is the territory of Radio 4’s The Grand House – Boom or Blight?, narrated by the director of the V&A, Tristram Hunt, who says that ‘the purpose of a visit to a country house is under debate like never before’. Well, it is in some quarters: I imagine that a sizeable section of the visiting public is still perfectly happy with an extended gawp at a magnificent house and gardens and a slice of lemon drizzle cake in the café. But the wider ‘cultural conversation’ is certainly increasingly conscious of the often unsavoury sources of wealth which contributed to a fair proportion of such homes, in particular slavery and colonial plunder.
What has helped to preserve Britain’s great houses in the past, however, is the argument that they are irreplaceable repositories of history, architecture, art and craftsmanship. It was another V&A director, Sir Roy Strong, who in 1974 sprang to the defence of country houses after a long period of unchecked destruction. His landmark exhibition, The Destruction of the Country House, simultaneously celebrated what many have called ‘England’s greatest contribution to the visual arts’ and lamented their ongoing ruination, a loss of more than 1,600 properties between 1875 and 1975. In his diaries, Strong wrote that he often saw tears streaming down visitors’ faces ‘as they battled to come to terms with all that had gone’.
In the period of more mindful preservation which followed, many homes were acquired by the National Trust, while others are still owned by descendants of the original owners, who have turned them into businesses to offset the enormous running costs. Several of the latter describe here their schemes for attracting visitors to their estates: Eastnor Castle in Herefordshire hosts weddings and etiquette classes while Houghton Hall in Norfolk shows contemporary art. But other venues, such as those run by the National Trust or English Heritage, are increasingly inviting visitors to brood on the racial exploitation behind, say, the sugar plantations which funded some historic piles or the grim mahogany trade behind an imposing staircase. Important history, but – for tourists drawn in by a fantasy of Bridgerton or Downton Abbey – it’s going to prove a delicate dance between guilt and glamour.
How does it feel to grow up with a father who is addicted to lying? That’s the personal history explored in #1 Dad, in which the stand-up comedian Gary Vider examines his childhood with his father Manny, a compulsive con-man who ran the gamut from pranking to criminality with disturbing glee.
One of Manny’s biggest stunts – which ran for four years – was to get young Gary to pose as a child reporter for Sports Illustrated for Kids magazine, with Manny himself playing the accompanying photographer. Having obtained press passes under the more lax accreditation systems of the 1990s, Manny used them to gain entry to stellar sports games and locker rooms, where little Gary, notepad in hand, would conduct fake interviews with some of the biggest sports stars of the day: he even quizzed Nancy Kerrigan as they skated round an ice rink together. The articles were never published, of course, yet nobody ever asked why.
The pinnacle of the scam involved Michael Jordan, the legendary US basketball player, in a comeback game at Madison Square Garden. Unfortunately, for the first time ever, a genuine adult reporter and photographer from Sports Illustrated for Kids turned up as well. It didn’t phase Manny, who had always buttered up the security guards, and he and Gary were ushered into Jordan’s locker room long before the real journalists. The interview was not particularly profound. Gary asked Jordan his favourite food, and the star replied: ‘Steak.’
Gary was estranged from Manny at 15, and the podcast entails him going looking for his father 24 years later. I always feel a little uneasy when podcasts broadcast conversations that should really be private – such as Gary’s discussions with his wife and therapist over the wisdom of this course – but with an evident ear to their dramatic effect. But this is fascinating listening, not least because Manny emerges as a terrible but compelling character, flouting all known rules of fatherhood. His stinginess in handing over lunch money, for example, meant that young Gary resorted to making photocopies of dollar bills to give to the lunch lady. When Manny witnessed this he reconsidered his parental responsibilities – and devoted his energies to helping Gary produce better forgeries.
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