Remembering Patrick Dromgoole (1930-2026), RICHARD PHILLIPS-JONES reflects on the work of HTV’s powerhouse producer of creepy children’s television and much more
It’s the late 70’s/early 80’s. You get home from school, get the uniform off as quickly as is humanly possible and veg out in front of the TV, decompressing, looking for something to take you out of the drudge of the day.
If you were particularly fortunate, and the aerial-shaped, white-on-blue HTV logo appeared on the screen, accompanied by its dreamily weird ident, chances are you were in for a good half-hour of strangeness, and it was likely that Patrick Dromgoole’s name would be on the credits.
Dromgoole’s early career took him through directing and producing roles at the BBC and ITV, including the anthology series Suspense. He also helmed two episodes of ABC/Thames anthology Mystery And Imagination, including a fairly radical interpretation of Dracula with Denholm Elliot in 1968, signposting where his career was headed.
As the 70’s dawned, Dromgoole joined the West Of England/Wales ITV station, HTV, for what would be a fortuitous creative union as its Programme Director. HTV had astutely figured that the larger ITV companies had the primetime slots mostly sewn-up, so they focused on daytime, especially children’s programming.
As producer (and still occasional director), Dromgoole oversaw a production slate of shows which mined the mystical flavour of the company’s west country patch, and Arthur Of The Britons (1972-73) acted as something of a mission statement. Accompanied by a galloping theme tune from Elmer Bernstein, no less, Arthur was depicted here as a Celtic leader, forging an alliance against Saxon invaders, in the form of the dashing Oliver Tobias.
Those steps into ancient ways and traditions would be mined further in the series which followed under Dromgoole’s watch, and where the locations were almost a lead character in themselves, be it Avebury as a site for brainwashing the villagers (Children Of The Stones, 1977), Cheddar Gorge for a duel of sorcery (Into The Labyrinth, 1981-82) or Glastonbury and Stonehenge for a time traveller trying to get home (Sky, 1975). All drew on the region’s landscape and myths, whilst King Of The Castle (1978) took those folk-horror stylings into an urban Bristol tower block.
And yes, I believe the term “folk-horror” is apposite – if I describe the afore-mentioned Children Of The Stones as a Wicker Man for younger viewers, that is not to damn it with faint praise by any means. For a generation enthralled by compendiums of ghost stories and Alan Frank’s genre histories, HTV’s output from the period was like a tentative dipping-of-toes into darker waters before we were old enough to take the full plunge.
Even a mystery series like Follow Me (1977) or a period adaptation such as Kidnapped (1978) carried that underlying aura of otherworldliness that was an essential ingredient of the HTV style.
Dromgoole had a knack for engaging talent that clicked with the material (director Peter Graham Scott was a frequent collaborator, as were writers Bob Baker and Dave Martin), but it was also notable that HTV’s young leads, often complete unknowns, had a natural, unselfconscious quality, with none of the plummy, stage‑school mannerisms you’d see elsewhere. They felt like real kids rather than polished performers, making them easier for viewers to identify with — another important part of the appeal.
Into the 80’s, Dromgoole oversaw an ambitious adaptation of Jamaica Inn (1983, with a truly chilling performance from Patrick MacGoohan) and the lavish Robin Of Sherwood (1984-86), which blended the Robin Hood legend with ancient folklore and eerie touches. Tremendously popular, it was brutally cut off in its prime when co-producer Goldcrest collapsed, it proved too expensive for HTV to continue alone, and a loyal fanbase went into collective mourning.
It is surely no exaggeration to suggest that a number of fledgling filmmakers were taking mental notes from all of the shows mentioned above, and that’s without mentioning 1974’s The Canterville Ghost, with David Niven, The Georgian House (1976) or The Clifton House Mystery (1978).
There was a foray into cinema with the rather good psychological thriller, Deadly Strangers (1974), a late return to directing for Succubus in 1987, and a later co-production attempt with Universal for She Wolf Of London (1990-91), which promised much but sadly failed to meet expectations, HTV withdrawing their involvement after a few episodes.
Dromgoole’s final production credit was in 1996, by which time he had become HTV’s chairman. His efforts had long helped this relative minnow of the ITV network punch well above its weight, but the broadcasting landscape was changing rapidly as he bowed out and HTV would eventually lose its identity, swallowed up by ITV plc.
Given his television pedigree, it seems somehow fitting that he retired to the 16th century Penkill Castle in Ayrshire, which would have made an ideal location for one of his shows. However, Dromgoole made an unlikely emergence from retirement, demonstrating his culinary skills as a contestant on Channel 4’s Come Dine With Me in 2011 – For those of us who knew his name and his work, it was a brilliantly surreal coda.
Of course, there was much more to his CV than the weird and wonderful works celebrated here but, in this particular parish, those are the things for which we celebrate the career of Patrick Dromgoole. Rest in peace, thank you for the huge part you played in the childhoods of myriad horror fans, and for the fond, if occasionally unnerving, memories.
Patrick Dromgoole, 30 August 1930 – 07 September 2026
