By now it should go without saying that an energetic disposition is an absolute "must" for anyone involved in the hectic round of one-nighters and parties that constitute the mainstream of pop. Nineteen year old Peter Noone, he of the cheekiest, toothiest grin in popdom, is no exception.
     Getting Herman to sit still for more than five secods is like trying to hit a passing ford Mustang with a pea-shooter! When the Hermits returned home earlier this year on completing their sixth American tour, their leader was forced to spend hours in his Shepperton home doing absolutely nothing apart from industriously reading the complete works of Charles Dickens for the third time. Not that this was any kind of chore for Herman whose main pastime apart from party-going is burying his little nose in a good book, but when filming of Mrs. Brown, You've Got A Lovely Daughter began in mid-May, a certain Mr. Noone was down at the nearby studios almost before the technicians arrived there.
     One afternoon during a break in filming, I managed to maneuver our likely lad toward a darkened corner of Saul Swimmer's colorful set. He led off by explaining that "all this hanging around gets me down," but in spite of the inevitable breaks between takes, the singer is temporarily enjoying the mere fact of getting up and going to work everyday. "It's almost like going to the office," he quipped. "I'm doing the 9 till 5 bit!"
     Herman claims that although his main interest today still stems from touring - "I like being in a different city every night and meeting different people every night" - filming is an almost equally enjoyable way of earning a living. "It's just another medium of entertainment, but the best part of it is that for once I know exactly what I'm going to do for just one day in advance."
     "Peter! Where's Peter?" Voices echoed around the set in search of the star. Herman hastily stubbed out his cigarette and squeezed my arm. "Back in a sec," he told me and I took advantage of this brief respite to find out about the film from MGM's affable publicist, Julian Senior.
     Mrs. Brown, which is enthusiastically directed by the young American Saul Swimmer and filmed in Paravision and Technicolor, tells of the hilarious adventures of a nineteen year old advertising junior (guess who?) who leaves his dreary Manchester home in England's industrial Midlands and travels south to "swinging London" in search of the inevitable fame, fortune and romance (as the publicity blurb has it). Somewhere along the way he persuades his four friends - Keith, Barry, Karl, and Derek - to join him, and after an initial bout with proverty during which they work as barrow-boys for a certain green grocer named Brown, they score temporary success as (yes you've guessed it) a pop group.
     "Really, making this film is so different from anything else I've done that it's a pleasure," declared Herman enthusiastically on his return. "It's great because we can choose what we want to say at times, wear our own clothes, and so on. It's much more fun when you have the special privilege of being able to change lines in the script as you go along, but Saul is great to work with."
     According to herman who, because of his earlier acting experience is sweeping through his part with considerable aplomb, the rest of the Hermits have tackled their jobs successfully by merely acting as their natural selves. He compared their attitude to the role of the Beatles in Help! and Hard Day's Night. "The Beatles acted like clowns in their films! both were fantastic movies but I don't imagine that they themselves are especially pleased with them. After all, they weren't being the Beatles as I know them."
     Herman considers that he has personally fared better by being allowed to be "himself" while dealing with Mrs. Brown and her lovely daughter.
     He shifted uneasily from foot to foot during the between take breaks, smoking nervously and watching out for the very second when he'd be needed back on the set. "I hate it when they have to call out for me!" he confided.
     I wondered how his thoughts were occupied during those moments when everyone smokes busily in full view of the "No Smoking" signs, the extras sit nonchalantly in canvas-backed chairs reserved for stars and director, and the famous sip revolting-looking dark brown tea from the most inelegant of china mugs. "I watch people," was the reply. I'm always looking to see what's going on here and there; I take in everyone else's job and try to see what they contribute to the whole production. Even so, I joke a lot and talk about football with all the technicians and so on, but whenever I do have the chance to work with someone like Sir Michael Redgrave, who is really so serious about his acting, I learn a lot from watching."
     Although he has taken part in one other feature film, Hold On, and a twosome of guest spots, Herman declares that whenever he does watch himself onscreen he is more concerned with looking to see whether he has any spots showing than noticing if his presentation was good!
     An intelligent enough lad, he nevertheless gives no impression of especially serious or profound thought. When I suggested this I met with an immediate retraction: "Everybody thinks seriously," he stated flatly, "It's just that there are different categories of seriousness. Everybody's got problems, even if it's only which way should I turn at the traffic lights!"
     We wandered outside for a while to escape from the oppressive heat transmitted by the host of 1000 kilowatt lamps. Herman told me that apart from the million-selling title number there will be seven songs woven into Mrs. Brown. These will include three written by Geoff Stephens of winchester Cathedral fame and another three by Graham Gouldman who was responsible for several of the Yardbird's hits. I asked Herman if he had any aspirations toward songwriting and was met with a definite shake of the head. "Never written anything of my own that was good enough," he explained. "The trouble is that I'm both an introvert and an extrovert and somehow that doesn't leave me time to think about writing music. But probably I'm not really interested enough."
     "How can you be both types of person at once?" I wondered. "You can be both at the same time depending on how you wake up! No one in show business is completely extrovert but no one is a complete introvert either. If you were, you'd be a recluse, wouldn't you? I think that most people in the world are basic extroverts: most people love to tell jokes, go to parties and so on."
     Although Herman's Hermits sell more records in America than they do in their own country, the diminutive youngster is much better known in England. "Even old people come up and say hello to me in the street," he said. "Old people's anyone over forty-five, anyone older than me dad!" But America he enjoys mainly because of the chance to meet so many new people. He compared his inability to explain an exact reason for liking the country to not being able to say why you like a certain person. "You can say that so-and-so's nice but it doesn't really mean anything. On the other hand, if he kicked your teeth in or something, you've got a pretty good reason for saying why you don't like him!" he laughed.
     A fairly exhausting day at the studios was coming to a close when this reporter foolishly attempted to tackle Herman on some slightly more profound subjects. Starting off on a conventional footing, I asked about religion. "I don't talk about that," was his immediate reply. "It's very personal and I think that is one of the few things that is my own business. Not meaning to be rude," he reassured me politely. "Of course, I love talking about it with three or four close friends, but I don't want just anyone to pick up a magazine and be able to read the way I feel about such a private subject. And, what's more, I'd hate to put myself in a position like John Lennon did without being able to follow it up."
     We wandered back onto the set just as the huge battery of spotlights were dimmed for the night. "That's all for today, fellers," said Saul Swimmer, "Thanks a lot and thank you, Peter." Herman turned to me with a rather weary smile. "Thank you for coming," he said, holding out his hand. "It was a nice talking to you."
     "My pleasure entirely...."