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5

THE FINAL

COUNTDOWN

The 'Prisoner' casting offices in Sydney and Melbourne had been working overtime for the past month, after an initial two months of talent-spotting and auditions.  Now, in several workshops at the Channel O studios, the art department, wardrobe and props team were doing their share.

Art director Ian Costello utilised more than 350 reference photographs and sketches of Melbourne and Sydney prison exteriors and interiors to build a series of special sets which ranged from claustrophobic cells and corridors to the Wentworth Detention Centre laundry, the recreation room and library.  There were sets for the administration area, including reception, the governor's office, staff quarters, hospital and a truck bay.  And, of course, that passion pit of a cubby-hole into which Marilyn Mason and Eddie Cook crawled.

While the writers played close attention to official protocol requirements, prison slang, nicknames and real-life stories, the enterprising designers, props folk and set dressers went to extraordinary lengths to be totally realistic about the look and feel of the prison sets.  Lockers had prisoners' names on them, and now, the final names were being added daily as the Australia-wide casting campaign drew to an end.

Set dresser Geoff Hatton contracted a private printing firm to provide the official Wentworth Detention Centre seal, insignia and appropriate stationery, highlighted by the official jail letterhead which would pass even the closest camera scrutiny over the ensuing seven years.

The sets were ready at Channel O (later to be absorbed into the O-TEN Network of international media magnate Rupert Murdoch).  The back of the studio building served as the entrance gate and main wall of Wentworth, and the station's massive transmitting tower was camouflaged as the Jail watchtower, complete with patrol guards, dominating the Wentworth skyline day and night.

Shooting on Episode One of 'Prisoner' was scheduled to begin on Wednesday, 4 August 1978, after two days of rehearsals and blocking camera moves for location and studio sequences.  A sprinkling of extra background prisoners from the Melbourne casting offices was chosen that morning, although the uniformed extras wouldn't be needed for the initial scenes.

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In the studio the massive overhead lighting grid was getting a final check by a team of technicians.  Director of photography 'Swifty' Swift knew he would be taping the biggest show put together at Channel O. He was happy to have Burt Smith, of London Weekend TV, to help advise on lighting and camerawork.  Smith is regarded as one of U.K.'s best lighting men, well versed in capturing the images of shows like 'Prisoner'.  'Don't make the mistake of making it look too drab,' he had told Reg Watson.

By 8.10 a.m. it would have been all systems go in the studio - but 'Prisoner's' first shots were being taped fifteen miles across town without any sign of a prison uniform.  Viewers wouldn't see this footage until Episode Nine, when the dramatic and shocking truth about Lynn Warner would be vividly revealed.

'Prisoner' was finally before the cameras.  It was 397 days since lan Holmes had given Reg Watson the go-ahead.

The first scene shot for 'Prisoner' called for a palatial mansion in the exclusive suburb of Toorak, home to many of Melbourne's richest and most influential families.  Over the opening shot of the sprawling, luxury home and its landscaped gardens could be heard the frantic, pleading cries of a young woman.

Lynn Warner (with Kerry Armstrong screaming her head off for the first two hours of the Toorak shoot) was being sexually assaulted and abused by a man (well-known Melbourne actor Frank Gallacher), the screen husband of the schizophrenic socialite Marlene Beecher (actress Arianthe Galani).  It was Madame Beecher who would fabricate the bizarre tale of her infant baby's abduction and burial alive.

Director Graeme Arthur recalled everyone 'being on some sort of an edge' that first morning.  A few days later, he told a reporter, 'We'd planned, rehearsed the action and dialogue.  Everyone knew what was expected of them, and what was happening storywise - yet there was this mixture of apprehension, over-hype and aggressive energy.  Once we got the house shots and Kerry's big scenes, everything fell into place and it was like we'd been doing the show for weeks, not a few hours.'

Naive, winsome Lynn was a perfect stooge for callous, conniving Marlene Beecher.  A lonely country girl, in the big smoke for the first time without family or friends.  Then a seemingly wonderful, elegant, rich lady offered her a baby-sitting job.  It had to be a godsend.  Little did Lynn know she was being dragged down a nightmare path, leading to Wentworth Jail.

'Prisoner' had two full-time directors when it launched - Graeme Arthur and Rod Hardy.  Reg Watson wrote the first episode, and Episodes Two and Five; producer lan Bradley penned Episodes Three,  Four and Nine; while Denise Morgan and Michael Brindley wrote the remaining ten shows.  This finely tuned creative team worked around a complicated schedule orchestrated by producers Bradley and Philip East (later to move to 'Neighbours').  Arthur was shooting exteriors and interiors such as the first day at Toorak, while Hardy was in the studio preparing the next episode.  Later, additional directors would join the team.

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<Picture>Could this petite country beauty kidnap a baby and try to bury him alive? Lissome Lynn Warner (Kerry Armstrong) protested her innocence ... and she was telling the truth!
 

One-hour shows for commercial airings are forty-eight minutes long, leaving twelve minutes for commercials and network IDs to be inserted.  The first episodes of 'Prisoner' were designed to hook viewers In a matter of minutes, get solid word-of-mouth interest and, of course, impress the media.  'If the show didn't work in the first weeks it wouldn't work at all,' one nervous Grundy producer said as taping got underway.  'We don't have any real nagging doubts about "Prisoner", but with TV shows, you're playing a lottery.  Some you win, some you lose.'

At the outset, 'Prisoner' was costing $5 5,000 (£26,000) a week to produce, but when the schedule moved to two episodes a week the two hours rose beyond $80,000 (£38,000).  At the peak of its popularity in 1984 the budget was more than $120,000 (£57,000) per week.  By Australian standards that was about average for taped drama, but well below the Crawford Productions hit on Channel Nine, 'The Flying Doctors' ($140-180,000 or £67,600-86,000 per hour, but shot on the more expensive medium of film).

From day one there was a feeling of 'reality among all us girls.  It was actually happening: it wasn't hard to act, to pretend we were in jail,' Mary Ward recalled.  'It

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made for exciting scenes, especially the fights and confrontations between Franky and Bea.'

The intensity of the acting was unknown in Australian drama.  Players threw themselves into their characters.  Just how real some of the scenes became was clearly illustrated in the celebrated Franky Doyle library-wrecking sequence.  Doyle went on an out-of-control rampage.  The fury of Carol Burns up-ending and smashing furniture and books in a frenzy of demolition scared everyone on the set, including Bradley.  'Carol got so involved in the scene she had to be physically calmed down and told the sequence was over.  Some lark asked if we were going to do it again?  Before the director had a chance to answer, I said, "No way," it just couldn't have been done.  It was a scene I'll never forget.'

Burns admits she left the set 'hands trembling, head throbbing, minor muscle pain and vision blurred, and I was sweating like a pig.' Crew members were shaken, and experienced cameramen shook their heads in amazement when the set calmed down.

Burns adds: 'One of the prison extras was this poor girl learning her way around a TV set, a first-timer.  At the height of the action she took refuge by hiding under a table, crying her eyes out.  She was scared out of her wits and had to be coaxed out.  There were some days like that.  It was all or nothing with Franky in the more intense scenes.'

Val Lehman and Carol remember the bruises, the cuts to their arms and hands.  'Whenever there was a fight scene or a brawl we had stunt choreographers, of course, but did virtually all the action ourselves.  Fingers were the easiest things to hurt.  After a few weeks there weren't any more spots for me to get bruises,' says Val.  'We were so much into the roles we went at it hammer and tongs. I got quite a few hefty smacks across the face.  Sloppy, sloppy girl,' mused Val.

'Me, too,' says Carol.  'I wasn't the only wild swinger in Wentworth.  The crew were amazed at those early fights.  They couldn't figure out if we were really hammering each
 
 

PRISONER FILE

Name: Hannah Simpson Actress: Julianne Newbould

Naive Hannah Simpson is in Wentworth to serve her first sentence for armed robbery. Young and beautiful, she believes she has the right to steal from other people and soon becomes an obvious target for the Freak.  Julianne Newbould said when she signed up for 'Prisoner' , 'I'm facing with equanimity the prospect of being seduced by a lesbian prison officer.' And four years later, Julianne turns up again, this time as undercover cop, Wendy Glover, trying to get inside information. With a new hair style and different mannerisms, there was little resemblance to Hannah.

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other, or if we were pulling punches and doing a great job as stuntwomen.  The confined space was usually the main problem.'

Colette Mann and Margaret Laurence were usually spared these agonies, but they were traumatised onlookers.  'We were all into character so quick, but I remember being numb just watching Val and Carol hammer away at each other or whoever was in their way,' said Colette.  And Margaret remembers, 'For a few weeks I used to panic when the scripts arrived. I was scared silly thinking my time would come and it would be my turn to get the treatment.  Luckily it never happened.'

Sheila Florance says she doesn't remember much about the first weeks of 'Prisoner' shooting, 'save that it was exciting for an old girl like me to be in a TV series, and making friends so quickly.  They all gave me a lot of help. I do remember that everyone hit it off fabulously from the first scenes, and I just used to marvel at how strong Val and Carol could be, and me, an old, doddering thing watching them.  Of course, I'm no fool. I was learning all the time.  Remember, an ongoing TV role was fairly new to me.  Val was a great teacher, We became great buddies.  Generally, we all were good friends.  We had to be, living in each others' pockets for twelve or more hours a day.  You can't keep any secrets with a set full of unusual characters and just as unusual players.  We were all close, but Val, Colette and Fiona were special to me.  It wasn't like mother and daughters, more like a bunch of sisters. I was so happy.'

Weeks after a very poignant scene involving Carol Burns, Sheila's eyes were moist.  'Franky learns of her young brother's death, and she blames herself as she lays on her bunk clutching the little boy's jacket.  The tears, real ones, roll down her cheek.  I was in the cell next door listening to all this, and I suddenly burst into tears they weren't scripted. I couldn't control myself and, immediately they cut the cameras, Carol and I ran off the set crying our eyes out.  I'll never forget that scene.  Carol was magnificent.' Soon came the first rumours that there wouldn't be a close-down on the series.

'Someone from Grundy's said we were on a goer, that is, the show would go on for a longer period.  We had contracts for only sixteen episodes.  They had an option on our services beyond that, of course, but at the time we were not really thinking beyond the first batch,' says Sheila.

Tragedy struck the 'Prisoner' gang in the middle of Episode Thirteen.  Cast and crew arrived on set one Thursday morning in mid-August to the shattering news that popular regular director Graeme Arthur had died at his Albert Park home overnight of a massive heart-attack.  He was only 35.  The day before Graeme had seemed happy, fit and in good health.

'I was stunned.  It was the blackest day I can remember as far as "Prisoner" was concerned,' said producer Bradley.  'Graeme was like family.  He'd been with the show since its advent.  It cast a pall of gloom over the studio.  But we all knew we had a show to keep on the road.'

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The completion of Episodes Fourteen, Fifteen and Sixteen were close at hand, only weeks away.  Then there would be the Christmas and New Year holidays.  But the O-TEN management were thinking further into the future. Ian Holmes announced O-TEN wanted an additional twenty-six one-hour episodes of 'Prisoner'.  'And that's before a single episode had been shown to the public,' added Holmes.  'It's the best vote of confidence I have ever heard for an Australian drama series.'

The word was out that 'Prisoner' was a sensation, a big hit in the making.  This was no publicity hype.  Some influential media people had managed to get a peek at the first shows.  Rival network executives were having their worst fears confirmed.  Grundy's was giving O-TEN a ratings winner of new dimensions.  This show could run for years, they were told.  Wentworth would soon be the new name on everyone's lips.  The commitment to further episodes even before they'd screened an episode was seen as a seal of total approval by the network.  And eager advertising agencies with heavyweight national and overseas clients were lining up to get the best commercial spots in 'Prisoner' once the show got underway.

But there was still the general press, and with the subject matter of 'Prisoner' the media jungle was bound to harbour a few snipers.  The Australian press had long been accused of promoting the tall poppy syndrome: 'Build 'em up, then chop 'em down.' But the O-TEN and Grundy hierarchy knew sooner or later they'd have to face the media flak, and hoped there would be more praise than damnation.

D-Day neared.  The O-TEN Network publicity machine went into action with national publicity director Brian Walsh pulling out all the stops.  Walsh knew that by the time the show unveiled he had to guarantee 'Prisoner' was 'known everywhere, in every nook and cranny.  My mission is to make sure there isn't a soul in Terra australis who won't know about "Prisoner" in the coming weeks.'

Veteran TV industry chronicler Ben Mitchell (TV Soap) recalls, 'You'd have had to be blind, deaf, out of the country or on another planet not to have known about "the new, big, daring, bold series".  There were even full-page promotional advertisements in
 
 

PRISONER FILE

Name: Marie Winter Actress: Maggie Millar

A chill in her name and ice in her veins -- Marie Winter has a hideous record of crime, specialising in dope.  A brawling, cursing, spitting felon, she makes the most of Bea Smith's absence in hospital to seize the top dog throne.  She brutalises her foolhardy opponents and the inmates are soon desperate for hard but fair Bea's victorious comeback.  The prison authorities recognise Winter's mayhem and send her off to finish her sentence in maximum security at Blackmore Prison.

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the major city dailies.  It all had the magic touch of Walsh and O-TEN on the road to a ratings bonanza.'

One final acid test for acceptance of 'Prisoner's premiere episodes was Reg Watson's decision to show the reels to Sandra Willson, a key consultant to the writers, and Australia's longest-serving female prisoner.  A convicted murderess, she had spent eighteen years in jail from 1958 to 1976 before being freed after heavy campaigning across Australia by women's action groups.

'I valued Sandra's comments more than anyone else in the weeks leading up to the preview screenings,' recalls Watson.  'Sandra gave us the thumbs-up all the way.  You couldn't ask for a better review.'

There was, however, and for no obvious reason, a growing belief in the hard core group of Sydney and Melbourne TV critics that 'Prisoner' would probably be another typical package out of the Grundy sausage factory'.  But they'd have to wait for the launch to write their verdict in ink.

Grundy's O-TEN and the cast and crew were quietly confident they would come up trumps with the media.  After that, it would be up to the viewers.

The hard-working Wentworth team at the Melbourne studios of O-TFN were already on Episodes Twenty-one and Twenty-two when the previews were held, and were more concerned about remembering their lines and not bumping into the furniture than the media reactions.  But the press wanted to talk to the stars, and several were despatched to run the gauntlet.  Prisoner and jailer alike, they all waited for the presses to roll.

Bob Gordon, then editor of the TV Extra Magazine in the Australian Women's Weekly (the country's biggest-selling magazine, published by media magnate Kerry Packer, soon to be Australia's richest man, and owner, too, of the Nine Network) remembers the 'Prisoner' launch.  'I hadn't seen a foot of "Prisoner" tape, and only a few publicity shots and press-kit into sheets. I had journalists in Melbourne and Sydney covering the show's progress.  But I knew by the way O-TEN bosses were carrying on that "Prisoner" would be a winner.

'It's not a matter of having an editorial nose to predict success in soapland.  Every now and then an exceptional Australian show comes along - Jimmy Davern had done it with "A Country Practice" for the Seven Network, 'ust as he did eighteen years earlier with "Bellbird" for the ABC, which wrote the book for Aussie soaps.  TV pioneer Hector Crawford did it with his Melbourne-based cop shows "Homicide", "Division Four", "Matlock Police", and later, "The Sullivans" and "Cop Shop".  Hector had a nose for long runners.  And here was "Prisoner" coming on like a storm to belt the opposition.  A lot of us felt this was a time for Grundy's, a time for O-TEN.'

And it was.