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Psychologists claim that a large number of people are living in two separate worlds, captured in their own lies, shame and guilt that eventually power them into behavior which is way too different from their daily lifestyle. Roughly two thirds of men and half of women have an adulterous event at some point in their life, with the obvious stresses and strains associated with such duality. For the lucky few, the sheer absurdity of what they believe they are seeking will be become apparent before it’s too late. For the many, there is just a constant restlessness that will eventually affect their mental and physical well being.

Patrick Troughton, the second Doctor Who (1966-69), led a hidden double-life, having left his original family behind in the mid-‘50s to start a second with another woman – a scandalous situation at the time which, remarkably, he kept from his own mother for over two decades, right up to her death in 1979.

There would be a price to pay – there always is in life. Overwork and stress resulted in a heart condition, and the actor would be dead at the age of sixty seven. Matters had not been helped by a heavy smoking and drinking habit, excessive nicotine consumption necessitating the removal of one of his lungs. Rejecting his doctor’s advice, the actor eschewed a more healthy lifestyle and any semblance of a physical exercise regimen. Two major heart attacks would follow in 1978 and 1984, necessitating enforced layoffs from work yet the warnings went unheeded.

His formative years were marked by high adventure and considerable danger, and by the end of hostilities in 1945, he was a twice decorated war hero. Born in Middlesex, England on March 25, 1920, he would grow up in North London, attending the Mill Hill School, where his interest in theatre led to a first starring role in a production of ‘Bees on the Boat Deck’ in March of 1937. With his passion for drama fully ignited, the young Troughton then moved on to the prestigious Embassy School of Acting at Swiss Cottage in London. His time there was intense and challenging. but also rewarding, as his dramatic work was recognized via a scholarship from the Leighton Rallius Studios at the John Drew Memorial Theatre in Long Island, New York. Unfortunately, Troughton’s time in America was curtailed with the outbreak of World War II in Europe, but to his eternal credit, he remained determined to do his share, setting aside his stateside ambitions and returning to Britain. The war became very real for him after the Belgian ship he was traveling on collided with a mine and sank, and he was fortunate to escape with his life in a lifeboat.

Safely home, Troughton signed on for duty with the Royal Navy in 1940. His first assignment-serving coastal convoy duty in the North Sea-proved just as challenging as performing on stage. As a sailor he moved up through the ranks, serving as a member of Britain’s coastal forces from 1942-1945. His distinguished military service there led to his own command of a Rescue Motor Launch, in which he was surprisingly able to both command the respect and affection of his crew members. Lightening the often sombre wartime mood by sporting a tea cosy on his head and telling jokes, his outwardly affable nature made him popular with his fellow servicemen. For his service to King and Country he was decorated with two esteemed medals, the 1939-45 Star and The Atlantic Star. Cynics might argue that such awards were issued merely as an acknowledgment of wartime survival – and there is some truth in this statement – but he nonetheless had his own command for three years, and must have displayed guile and initiative in carrying out his duties.

Amidst the austerity of post war Britain, Troughton would refocus his attention to performing on stage. He was a member of several drama companies, including the Amersham Repertory Company, the Old Vic and The Pilgrim Players at the Mercury Theatre, Notting Hill. His stage work of this time provided him an income and allowed him to experiment with his style and decide on what type of actor he wanted to be. The theatre work also allowed him to serve as a versatile character actor in several productions. By happenstance, one of these productions saw him as an understudy for William Hartnell (the first television ‘Doctor Who.’)

In 1948, he debuted with a part in Laurence Olivier’s ‘Hamlet’ alongside Peter Cushing. Later that year he appeared in a TV film called R.U.R. as a robot. In 1948, he made a filmed appearance in ‘Escape’ with Rex Harrison and once again, William Hartnell (who played Inspector Harris). In 1950, Troughton turned to television, appearing in small parts in several episodes of the BBC Sunday Night Theatre and The Whole World, Treasure Island and Once In A Lifetime.

He returned to the world of Robert Louis Stevenson again in 1952 as Allen Breck in ‘Kidnapped.’ In 1953, he showcased his versatility in six episodes of ‘Robin Hood’ for the BBC, pre-dating Richard Greene’s more widely remembered interpretation for the fledgling ITV network two years later. This role led to another series, ‘Clementine,’ in 1954.

Unfortunately, as with much of Troughton’s early television work, the six 30 minute Robin Hood episodes were transmitted live, and only studio material from the second episodes exists as a 16mm telerecording.

By 1956, his resume included three episodes of ‘The Count of Monte Cristo’ and eleven episodes of ‘The Scarlet Pimpernel.’ In 1960, he starred in six episodes of ‘The Splendid Spur’ and both episodes of ‘Paul of Tarses.’ By the late 50s and early 60s, Troughton had established himself as a versatile thespian that could act for the stage, screen and television.

The archival position is more encouraging in respect of some of his early work; guest appearances in two ITV series ‘The Adventures of The Scarlet Pimpernel’ and ‘Interpol Calling’ surviving on tape.

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Troughton was very tactile, and reportedly enjoyed the company of women far more than men. His son describes this behaviour as “an addiction that would cause all sorts of personal problems throughout his life.” The word tactile can have innocuous overtones, for example, someone who is ‘touchable’ and ‘receptive to touch’ and unafraid to hold hands, or deliver a spontaneous display of affection. Having both mediterranean and english strands to my family, I have witnessed different levels of tactility throughout the years, remaining eternally amused by such differences in behaviour.

If Troughton was inclined to be ‘overly familiar’ with the opposite sex, then this was not necessarily a character trait for which he should be condemned, particularly if he was adept at assessing which female acquaintances would be responsive. If, of course, he was merely playing the ‘numbers game’ – essentially risking the alienation of certain women he barely knew, by invading their personal space in an unwelcome fashion – then his behaviour was nothing less than reprehensible.

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