Ian Handford: How the voice of a nation met his end

Having presented the Coronation of Elizabeth II on television, Richard’s next major commission was to front the launch of Panorama in 1955.

He was its first presenter and remained the programme’s chairman for the rest of his life. He also covered all general election nights on TV, the wedding of HRH Princess Margaret, and even the funeral of the American president, Mr John F. Kennedy. In essence, he had become the face of the nation on television.

By the early 1960s, television had become a “must-have” for most homeowners, ushering in a new generation of budding broadcasters eager to start their careers at the BBC. But it wasn’t them who threatened Richard’s career—it was cancer. Brave enough to inform the public of his life-threatening illness and his determination to fight it, Richard received an immediate response from Her Majesty the Queen, who sent him six bottles of champagne along with her very best wishes. The public saw fit to send him a staggering 7000 letters via the BBC expressing their best wishes for a good recovery.

Richard was now attending hospital daily and would always enter through the VD clinic to avoid the public entrance, where he would be instantly recognised. As he passed through the clinic, he would often announce cheerfully, “Right, you go that way—I’m going this way,” before making a quick exit. The chore was bravely undertaken yet ensured that he could continue the demands on his time for television.

Richard always took delight in owning his Rolls-Royces, and during holidays in Devon, he even purchased a second home—a cottage in Dittisham on the River Dart. He and the family were often seen motoring around the South Hams or the Westcountry more generally. He was also honoured to receive an Honorary Doctorate from the University of Sheffield—one of the few accolades he was ever granted. Given that he had become the accepted voice of the nation, this now seems extraordinary.

By late 1963, his visits to St Thomas’s Hospital in London had topped fifty, yet he had never missed a single BBC engagement. These included presenting three remembrance services, two Papal visits, numerous royal tours to Sweden and Italy, national Budgets, election nights, and of course, his ongoing work on Panorama and Twenty Questions. But now huge discomfort and weariness were affecting his life at the family home at "Danley" Lynchmere. Once it became a step too far, he bought "Boulters Island" on the Thames in 1964, and his boat from Devon and a grand piano were then moved to the island courtesy of a floating pontoon.

Sadly, in January 1965, his surgeons informed him that the cancer had returned—the very month he delivered one of his most moving broadcasts: the BBC’s coverage of Sir Winston Churchill’s funeral. Appreciating that he was on borrowed time, he made a final visit to Dittisham with his surgeon, Ian Churchill-Davidson, and still found time to attend the boat race held in Torbay before returning to Salcombe one last time.

He was now undergoing daily radiotherapy. When he learned that the BBC planned to cover the opening ceremony of the Olympics in September but had not contacted him, he phoned to say he was only attending hospital for a “grumbling hernia”—which, of course, was not true. By then, he had already received 25 heavy doses of radiotherapy to slow the growth of abdominal cancer. Having missed the Rome Olympics, he travelled to New York to record a special Panorama with the Pope and even paid a visit to the United Nations.

Just two months later, on 22 December 1965, Richard passed away, leaving behind two sons who would go on to become stars of the media world—David and Jonathan. A quarter of a century later, his lesser-known son, Nicholas, completed a sculpted memorial plaque honouring their father. It can still be viewed in Poets’ Corner at Westminster Abbey.