1996 was a landmark year for live events. Oasis at Knebworth. Gazza at Euro ‘96. Muhammad Ali lighting the Olympic flame. Gina G lighting up Eurovision with Ooh, Ah, Just a Little Bit. Iconic moments, all.
And also – less newsworthy at the time – Peter Buckley Hill, kickstarting an Edinburgh Fringe revolution that would eventually spawn thousands of shows, several rival Fringes and some serious headlines. A low-key beginning though, revolt-wise. One show, a dream and a bucket.
“I think it’s fair to say that not many people understood the basic concept [of unticketed events with a bucket collection],” admits Buckley Hill, 30 years on. “No: why should you not charge money, especially since you were paying money for accommodation? Why should you not charge money for something that was worth money…?”
That first show – Peter Buckley Hill and Some Comedians – came after the enterprising comic had endured an expensive debut in a paid-for venue, in 1994, so resolved to do things differently. He found a spare room at the Footlights and Firkin pub, got an audience, took donations, and gradually added more venues.
By 2018 PBH’s Free Fringe – as it’s widely known – was hosting 10,000 performances, launching careers, winning prizes (consecutive Edinburgh Comedy Awards for John Kearns was a game-changer, in 2013 and 2014), while weathering frequent dramas and near disasters. They come with the territory.
“It’s over 6000 [performances] at the moment, which is big enough and complex enough to organise,” he says. “Everything has gone wrong and can go wrong at some point in the history of the Free Fringe. And, presumably, that will continue.”
Fest meets Buckley Hill at an unlikely location: before a preview at a former Conservative Club, in leafy Hertfordshire. As he admits in his entertainingly self-effacing book, Freeing the Fringe, this movement is almost communism, with Buckley Hill leading the way, Lenin beard and all. He certainly has a bolshy reputation. Now chairperson, he’s still hands-on, despite semi-retiring due to nearly dying a decade ago, when his pancreas rebelled. A tough act to follow.
“He’s a bit of a genius,” admits Luke Meredith, the current CEO. A magician by trade, Meredith is also evangelical about the movement, as a model for Fringe change. “It is. It’s not just about free shows. It’s about performers working together; giving the power back, not just to the performers, but to the audience.”
And widening their horizons. By its very nature the Free Fringe needs to keep sourcing novel venues; this year Meredith mentions everything from “samurai sword workshops in a youth hostel” (Kenbu: Live Samurai Sword Experience, at the Central Youth Hostel) to conjurors in mini karaoke booths: grandly-named but small-capacity magic shows like Wish and Welcome to My Reality, at the six Supercubes on Cowgate. “Really close magic”, laughs Luke, who doubles as the magic/cabaret director.
Now, for the 30th Anniversary, they’ve a new direction: North. “We’re expanding into Leith,” he says. “Everybody has been talking about how they ought to spread around Edinburgh. We have venues, lots of interest. Let’s really push it this year.”
Their Leith pub list – The Bowlers Rest, The Carriers Quarters, Strathmore Bar, 3 Old Monks, Diggers – looks lively already, and “there’s so much else to do there: cocktail bars, cute little places, the [Royal Yacht] Britannia, for the tourist stuff.”
One key reason for Leith’s uplift was, optimistically,“the tram! It makes it so easy.” If only they’d known a Princes Street fire would see to that just days before everything kicked off.
Meredith and his top team are all doing shows too; but then giving performers more Fringe input is a long-term target. Actor/comedian Elise Harris is PBH’s director of theatre and children’s shows, and is now on the Edinburgh Fringe board. Which wasn’t her original plan, but the Free Fringe exudes an almost cult-like appeal. “I think I offered to help with chairs,” she recalls. “Then it’s growing, growing, then you’re programming.”
Improv, and conjuring, would both be useful skills here, as shows and spaces can suddenly disappear, or transform. Harris recalls one venue changing its name last year “while a performer was actually on stage,” which must have bewildered that audience afterwards. Hence their programme, the Wee Blue Book, is published last-minute; August 7th this year.
Given the myriad variables, PBH appoints Venue Captains, experienced acts who can be approached by others with queries. Steve McLean was one, first playing the Free Fringe in 2014, helping out (“mainly moving chairs”), captaining, and now running the comedy.
His new passion project is Free Fringe Firsts, a whole venue dedicated to short runs by newcomers, from the intriguing Irish comedy PORNÓ, to Scottish-Pakistani standup Imran Hafeez. It’s at Pizza Geeks, another Leith location, and McLean dreams of decentralising the Fringe generally. Expanding outwards would lead to “more evenly distributed Fringe wealth to the local businesses,” he says, and “accommodation options increasing, which should lead to the prices stabilising.”
Which sounds positive. As a performer, though, has McLean noticed a modern problem for the free model: less physical cash, for donations? Actually, lugging fewer coins is easier, “and I think it makes people more likely to donate round sums of money,” he says. “I’ve had more £20 cash donations via card than I ever had £20 notes in my bucket. Card readers are a pain in the arse though.”
The Free Fringe is still going strong, three decades on. Looking back, as dusk descends over Hertfordshire, does Buckley Hill reckon he gets enough acclaim?
“I do not give a flying…”
That’s the spirit.
PBH’s Free Fringe, multiple venues, until 31 Aug