Frank Seton
Actor and book collector
Published: 23 March 2007
The Independent
Francis Wilfred Poupart (Frank Seton), actor: born Walton-on-Thames, Surrey 29 March 1918; died Rosecare, Cornwall 28 February 2007.
When Arthur Lucan dropped dead in the wings of the Tivoli Theatre, Hull, on Monday 17 May 1954, Frank Seton stepped into the costume of Old Mother Riley, the music-hall, pantomime, radio and cinema character who had been created by Lucan in 1934. Roy Rolland, chief understudy for the part, was not present on the night and after only a short break Seton took to the boards. He was described in the Hull Daily Mail the next morning as "a repertory and touring actor" who "acquitted himself so well" it was "a miracle".
Seton himself said afterwards: "You can't really take over a part like Old Mother Riley. It is entirely [Lucan's] own characterisation. You just can't mimic him."
Frank Seton was born Francis Poupart in 1918, in Walton-on-Thames, south-west of London, into a family of market gardeners who became one of the biggest firms in the old Covent Garden, with impressive premises in Long Acre, turning over £80m in 1995, the company's centenary year. Attracted to acting rather than an active role in the family business, he took the stage name of Frank Seton from the book that happened to be in his hand in 1937 when he completed his Diploma at Rada.
His first professional performance was later that year in Southampton (where, coincidentally Poupart's had a branch); his last was in a touring production of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers in 1997.
Seton's career of 60 years spanned music hall, repertory, touring, pantomime, television and film. He was rarely top of the bill - Toad of Toad Hall in 1984 was one exception - but rarely out of work. Well over a hundred appearances in television through the 1950s to 1980s made him a familiar face, without becoming a familiar name. His credits are impressive for viewers of a certain age: Dixon of Dock Green, Quatermass and the Pit, Z Cars, three small parts in Doctor Who (including a Sea Devil), Compact, The Two Ronnies, Rumpole, Ghost Squad, No Hiding Place.
In between times, Frank Seton travelled extensively, "collecting" theatres as football fans sometimes "collect" grounds. A voracious reader, he also collected books - often purchased from bookshops while on provincial tours. By the late 1980s, the collecting became more focused on the women writers of the 19th century - Mrs Braddon, Mrs Oliphant, Fanny Trollope and Mrs Gore being particular favourites - all this well before the burgeoning of modern academic "Women's Studies".
Latterly, his interests shifted to obscure male writers such as the long-forgotten G.P.R. James, whose turgid historical romances following in the footsteps of Sir Walter Scott received much warmer critical reviews from Seton - no doubt heralding a revival of interest in the not too distant future. Perhaps it is wrong to say he was a "collector", for his library, from first edition to cheap reprint, contained only books to read.
He was a genuinely nice person, someone who it was always a pleasure to anticipate meeting, always a pleasure to meet - full of generous gestures, jokes and bonhomie.
While undertaking renovations to his house in London, he acted the part of a workman (not so difficult for a man who had played "walk on" parts), looking busy but not fooling a real handyman who commented to one of Seton's relations: "I don't know why you employ that bloke - he doesn't DO anything."
A recent note sent, by post of course, to Jarndyce bookshop reads:
Advance Warning. An elderly book collector who is in such a low state that he has been reduced to buying NEW books will put his nose round the door . . . in search of a tonic. Can you put a spring in the step of this old party?
Alas, no more.
Brian Lake