Remembering
Leslie “James MacGregor'” Lowes
August 30th 1947 –
September 1st 2023
Memories from the Lowes family (in italics) with Nic Wistreich plus Arin Crumley, Cath Le Couteur, Ben Blaine, Chris Jones, Liz Hobbs, Tom Fogg, Kenneth D Barker & Tom Swanston.
It’s impossible to forget Les’s voice. The crisp yet calm confidence from a career in BBC Radio, but anchored in County Durham bedrock. He remains the only writer I’ve known who would pitch to me the story he wanted to do, and these calls were my favourite. Not only because it made me, many years his junior, feel more important than I was (not least as I almost never had a budget), but because it was where his passion for what he did spilled through.
“I’m trying to interview Arin and Susan” he’d say. I have no idea who he’s talking about. “They’re shaking things up with their video podcast, it’s got 60,000 subscribers” introducing me to the creators of Four Eyed Monsters – makers of the first feature film to be shown on YouTube when it’s 10 minute limit was dropped for a few select accounts, during that brief period post YouTube, pre-Netflix streaming.
“So sad to hear about that news. He was always trying to get to the bottom of how filmmaking could be within reach to everyone.”
Arin Crumley, Four Eyed Monsters, Moop
Or “I’ve been chatting to a fellow who has got India’s only ever short film Oscar nomination.” Or Hugh Hancock, the guy who conceived and founder of Machinima, which defined YouTube video game content. Or some new low-budget technique for his chapter. Or the updates on the long running Scottish film studio saga.
Les was writing about YouTube on Netribution before the Guardian or Screen International – or almost any of us – had noticed it, a few months after launch. Years later I was sat next to Arin in an event about open sourcing the technology of web subtitles in NYC at the top of an Open Society building and his phone rang and the annoyed moderator Allan Gunn would tell the person to his left – me – to answer it. It’s Susan Buice and I’m a bit starstruck to somehow be mediating between these early YouTube meets indie film / mumble core clebs. But that started with Les.
Les had three passions that I encountered:
- discovering talent and stories no-one else had spotted;
- filmmakers who found a way with next to no budget;
- and widening awareness of filmmaking beyond the traditional centres of London and Los Angeles.
Widening awareness happened on Northern Exposure on Netribution 1 and Shooting People’s UK Film Council funded Wideshot project; micro-budget achievements was there in his Microbudget chapter in the last Film Finance Handbook, but across many of the people he was drawn to interviewing.
“James was a fantastic advocate for all things independent film. He was funny, caring, and passionate, as well as a brilliant journalist. Many Shooter filmmakers got their first exposure and the chance to talk about their work thanks to James. He made a huge impact on the industry, especially for the strange, the unconventional, and the voices that often go unheard.”
Cath Le Couteur, Co-founder, Shooting People
Most people I’ve contacted know him as James. Perhaps they’ve even read the satire biography his son Andy Lowes (under the pen-name Cousins) wrote of him talking about his work making propaganda films for Churchill and against Thatcher. As I’ve reached out to people he wrote about explaining Leslie died, I often had to reveal to them James MacGregor never existed. People reference his biography like it’s true; MacGregor has a Facebook account so to the datasets of Meta he’s a person too. But who was this tireless champion of indie filmmakers and filmmaking: on Netribution, Shooting People, MovieScope, the Film Finance Handbook?
Leslie was born in Blackhill, Consett, County Durham on August 30th, 1947 to William Leslie and Edna. William was a lathe operator at the Consett Iron Company, Edna left school young to help look after her 15 older siblings.
A mischievous lad, and child soprano, at the local grammar school Les met a young Alun Armstrong and they became great pals sharing an interest in Drama. The first year after meeting in the school drama society production of Hamlet; Alun played the lead, and Les, despite being the younger, played Claudius (pictured below).
“At 17, he took the lead role in a production of King Lear. This enabled him to get into the National Youth Theatre, and would travel to London a year later to take part in their 1965 production of Anthony and Cleopatra. It was quite a year for talent entering the National Youth Theatre, and Les worked alongside some other unknowns such as Simon Ward, Barrie Rutter, Kenneth Cranham and Timothy Dalton. Cleopatra was played by a 19-year old Helen Mirren, while Leslie has the arguably far more important role of ‘Spear Carrier no. 3’.”
“I met Leslie 20 years ago through Shooting People. We were both loud and opinionated voices and I think initially we argued, if only because initially I argued with _everyone._ Some took this to heart and seem to have considered me unpardonable ever since but Les’ heart was too big for that.
Ben Blaine
“I ended up running Shooting People’s Mobile Cinema, where I’d programme a selection of short films made by members of the community and then, with my brother Chris and our friend Adam we’d tour them round the country in a beat-up VW van. It produced many wonderful stories but none quite as marvellous as when Leslie hosted us in his home in the Shetland Isles.”
“After the screening he took us for a barbecue on the beach. It was June so there was barely any dark at 10pm and Shetland being treeless, he kept a stack of Aberdeen telephone directories in the back of his car in order to light the fire. Seals bobbed in the water whilst we huddled on the sands, random names turning to cinders, dancing in the uplift from the fire whilst Leslie recounted the local folk tale of the Selkie woman. For me Leslie embodied what UK film culture could be – deeply local, a light that could draw a community together, a light by which we could see each other better.
“I always meant to go back to Shetland but never did and was truly saddened to hear that Les had died. He had the warmth of a fire at the end of the world and will be deeply missed.”
In 1965 he did teach training at Newton Park (now part of Bath Spa University) and afterwards took a probationary post at Wickham Primary School. That summer, he was back home in the steelworks as a plate layer, when he met Audrey “who Les charmed with his stunning attire of leather jacket, white jeans and tan coloured desert boots. They were married a year later in Durham, spent their honeymoon in York, and moved to Audrey’s childhood home for the next two years before moving to Southampton to work as a Youth Leader.”
Their first child Andrew was born in 1975, in November 1976 they welcomed their second son, Robert. In 1979 Les got the job as Community Worker on the Westside of Shetland and made the move the following year after Emma was born. He helped launch the local Brae community magazine: ‘Nort Aboot’ and took a part time job at Radio Shetland before going full time in 1981.
“Les found himself the only man working at Radio Shetland and became known as “Radio Shetland Man”. Wherever he went in the isles, he was recognised for his voice and everyone knew him” He was involved in creating one of the station’s flagship programmes, along with Rhoda Bulter and Mary Blance, ‘In Aboot Da Night’ is still going strong, forty years on.
“I had the pleasure of working with James some years ago at movieScope Magazine. Not only was he a great writer and a consummate professional, but he was a wonderful colleague. He was genuinely interested in my life and very supportive of my career, always ready with words of wisdom and encouragement. James’ passion for independent film was the stuff of legend… The industry has lost a talented writer and a true gent.”
Liz Hobbs, movieScope Magazine
Over time he was seconded to Glasgow and Edinburgh for BBC Radio Scotland, where he was a producer for their flagship Good Morning Scotland. This led to four years in Saudi Arabia on Radio Riyadh, leaving the family in Shetland. “With various restrictions on what sort of music was suitable, Les and one of his colleagues broadcast contry and western music with ‘Country Jamboree’. This involved some pretty dodgy country accents, achieved by putting a biro lid between their teeth as the spoke.”
“Alongside his country jamboree slot, Les did voice-overs for Toyota and was a youth world cup sports commentator. He also interviewed Buzz Aldrin and various Russian cosmonauts when producing a space programme. However, because he worked for the ministry of information in Saudi, there was always a little man in a parked car outside his apartment reporting to the government on his work.”
“Thanks James for being so accommodating.”
Kenneth Barker, WOTR, director Kingdom
We sadly could never pay him a penny in Netibution 1 or 2, only for the Funding Book. But one evening, on visiting London with his family, Tom took him out to dinner at Marco Piere White’s Quo Vadis restaurant – having pooled our pennies by way of thanks. Spending money we didn’t really have at Quo Vadis is a theme, Tom mentions it in his interview with himself and remembers the night here…
“I remember the only occasion I spent time with him. We went for dinner at Quo Vadis, on Dean Street in Soho. He was warm hearted, merry, ever so polite and he presented as a humble, decent man who’d seen a lot of life. The dinner was fantastic, as I imagine it would be today. I had a relationship of sorts with the place, with a maitre d’ especially, so no surprise I chose it as a venue. He was impressed and ate heartily. He had lamb. I remember this because we’d spoken about herds local to him who grazed wild and enjoyed fattening on kelp by the shore. It lent the meat a particular flavour.”
Tom Fogg
I remember Les always supporting us, with encouragement and a generosity of spirit made possible by hard work and humility. I remember too that night, the love he had for his son, his pride in him evident. I think he saw something in us, perhaps bravery, perhaps an authenticity, that we were less able to recognise in ourselves. How would we know? He seemed to love what he did for us too, and just for the sake of it.
I’m humbled to be writing of this man, knowing of his passing. I’m pleased to also. I’m still to reach the age he was when we met. I’m a father now and there burns a desire to provide and to be a model for my son.
A good, hard working and enthusiastic man who loved his family. I’d take that, if another was writing of me.
Despite his warmth, Les had an honest and direct way, in a manner that seems steeped in the North East. I remember a call with him when I was trying to get Netribution 2 off the ground and at a real low. I was camped out in a basement flat in the south side of Glasgow, a city where I knew almost no-one. I’d left London in a storm, fallen out with a dear friend, my huge ambitions of a year before – where Time Out had announced much to my surprise that Netribution was returning – had collapsed into a pile of credit card bills; and I had no work and some proper depression.
On the call Les mentioned having read my ‘purple prose’ with interest and I didn’t admit not knowing what he was talking about. Google answered, after we hung up – “overly ornate prose text that may disrupt a narrative flow by drawing undesirable attention to its own extravagant style of writing”. It was a dig, but said with a warmth, and I couldn’t dispute his criticism. He pushed me to try harder in an oddly direct but indirect way.
“When I was starting my distribution company, Wysiwyg Films, back in 2005, he was very supportive and kindly published two articles that we wrote about producing and distributing independent movies. He was a beacon of light in the world of independent film.”
Tom Swanston, WYSIWYG films
I regret I never made it to Shetland. I don’t have a memory of Les like Ben’s, I wish I did – as probably do many reading this. But it was a privilege to have shared that part of his life where he championed indie filmmakers, and jump-started a career and project or two.
A glass raised to a great man and his alter-ego – to Les and James, yours aye, Nic.
“So many people talk the talk, but only a few walk it too. James was such a person. One of the loudest voices of support for filmmakers at a pivotal time in our cultural evolution. Insightfull, caring and audacious. We are all the worse off for his light not shining”
Chris Jones, co-author Guerilla FIlmmakers Handbook, head London Screenwriters Festival, Splinter Unit Director, Mission Impossible 7 & 8
