The imposing six foot actor Norman Mitchell Driver, known professionally as Norman Mitchell, was born on 27th August 1918 in Sheffield, West Yorkshire. His father was a mining engineer and his mother was a concert singer. He was educated at Carterknowle Grammar School and later Sheffield University studying medicine. Mitchell, aged eighteen, then decided to change career and walked from his university to Ealing Studios in London where he petitioned producers and directors to give him a break as an actor. After a few fruitless weeks he was met by his father and his brother Arnold who persuaded him to return to Sheffield where he eventually got his first break in theatre. He soon settled into his role as an Assistant Stage Manager at Sheffield Repertory and was taking on a few minor acting roles when the Second World War broke out. Norman enrolled in the army and saw active service as a member of the Royal Army Medical Corps working in roles such as mortician, operating room assistant and stretcher bearer.
After being demobbed from the army in 1946 Norman returned to acting as a career and also married the actress Pauline Southcombe the same year. His son Christopher[1] was born in 1947 and he too would become an actor. A second child, a daughter called Jackie Mitchell, followed. Norman and Pauline would remain married until her death in 1992. Before the end of the decade Mitchell became a member of the BBC Drama repertory company and in this capacity he would work on more than five hundred radio productions. He made countless television appearances, some sources put it at over two thousand, as well as over two hundred film appearances often in small roles.
He broke in TV in 1951 playing King Henry II in the BBC play The Trial of Andy Fothergill (10th June 1951) which was adapted from the short story by Talbot Baines Reed. This was followed a few weeks later with the role of Andy, supporting Tony Hancock, in “Fools Rush In”, a drama segment for the fortnightly magazine programme Kaleidoscope (29th June 1951). Towards the end of the year he then cropped up as a merchant in the children’s drama production The Fate of the City (4th October 1951). His film debut came with the role of Fungus in the comedy Up to His Neck (1954) and in the Jack Hawkins headlined adventure film The Seekers (1954). This was followed by the role of a market stallholder in the classic Carol Reed film A Kid for Two Farthings (1955), British B movie Police Dog (1955) - which featured an early role for Christopher Lee as a policeman – and an uncredited role as a soldier in the Tommy Trinder comedy vehicle You Lucky People (1955). He completed a successful on screen year with the role of Captain Thomas Hardy in the BBC play The Nelson Touch (21st October 1955). This was a production screened to mark the one hundred and fiftieth anniversary of the Battle of Tralfalgar. Future Beasts actor Wolfe Morris also appeared in the production.He made his first appearance in a Hammer film production with the role of Rooks in the short film Dick Turpin: Highwayman (1956). He would later appear (as a policeman) in Frankenstein and the Monster From Hell (1974) as well as “Last Video and Testament”, an episode of the TV series Hammer House of Mystery and Suspense. He also featured in two other British horror films, both which also starred Beasts actors; And Now the Screaming Starts (1973) with Patrick Magee and Legend of the Werewolf (1975) with Marjorie Yates who had appeared in “Murrain”.
Mitchell appeared in the film Three Sundays To Live (1957) for the Danziger Brothers and later he recalled an amusing incident whilst making the film. “The star was Kieron Moore. It was a serious film, and during one particularly serious scene, someone in the studio farted rather loudly during a take – so loud, in fact, I have no doubt that it could be heard on the soundtrack. So, I thought I’d mention it to the director, Ernest Morris, who responded by saying that they couldn’t do re-takes because of someone farting. They didn’t have the money, nor time. So we carried on. Meaning that somewhere in the history of British celluloid there is this film, Three Sundays To Live, with someone enjoying a good old far during a serious scene.[2]” The film also appears to be the first time that Norman was called upon to play a policeman on the screen. This was a role he would play more times than any other during his career. His Times obituary noted that “Speaking in 1994, Mitchell recalled the halcyon days of BBC bit-part casting. “I used to get phone calls from casting people like Jimmy Liggatt, saying: ‘Are you free?’,
‘What! Now?’
‘No, no, tomorrow. I’ve got a copper with a few lines. What do you feel about that?’
‘I’ll see you in the bar!’ [3]“
It was in small supporting roles in film and television comedies that he became a familiar face to the general public. He took part in four Carry On movies starting with yet another policeman role in Carry on Spying (1964) and continuing with Carry on Cleo (1964), Carry on Screaming (1966) and Carry on Emmannuelle (1978). His television comedy work included such fondly recalled programmes as Hugh and I (1966), Dad’s Army (1969), Some Mothers Do ‘Ave ‘Em (1973), George and Mildred (1976) and Are You Being Served? (1978).
Norman passed away on 19th March 2001, aged 82, in Downham Market, Norfolk, just three weeks after death of his son Christopher. There is some debate that the early death of his son contributed to his own demise as it was a heavy personal blow for the actor. His obituary in The Times newspaper noted that his countless film and TV appearances never “brought him fame, or even much in the way of recognition. For Mitchell was one of the busiest of thespian workhorses; the bit-part player.[4]”
[1] Christopher’s most notable role
was as Gunner Nigel Parkin in the sitcom It
Ain’t Half Hot Mum alongside Beasts
actor Stuart McGugan
[2] MGM British Studios: Hollywood in Borehamwood – Celebrating 100 Years
of the Film Studios of Elstree / Borehamwood, 1914 – 2014 by Derek Pykett,
Bear Manor Media, 2016
[3] Norman Mitchell obituary, The Times, 28th April 2001
[4] Norman Mitchell obituary, The Times, 28th April 2001
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