A living icon, talks to ALI KEFFORD about her days as a news anchorwoman, equality for women in journalism, Come Dancing and that famous routine that revealed her own talents as a dancer

WHEN Angela Rippon publicly revealed her pins for the first time, the nation's eyes popped out. In a dance routine which exploded the myth that desk-bound BBC news readers don't have legs, she deftly tippity-tapped her way across the set as a guest on the Morecombe and Wise Christmas Show.

In making the high profile appearance, she was following in the footsteps of some of the country's top stars.

But neither Glenda Jackson's Roman romp nor Diana Rigg's Nell Gwynn knocked viewers for six like Angela did.

For this was the night in December 1976 when, with the first high kick of legs encased in silken tights, her sexiness practically jumped out of the small screen.

In festive homes around the country, mouths stuffed full of gloppy Christmas pudding quite literally fell open.

Sherry was hastily swigged and the mother-in-law shushed.

With broad grins of delight on their faces, comedians Eric and Ernie relished in their dancing partner.

Angela's male colleagues from the newsroom popped up in the routine too, looking dandy in top hats and tails and tapping their canes.

Britain had its insight into the people behind soberly delivered news stories.

And Angela's flight of foot was a rare instance when a journalist herself hit the headlines.

In terms of raising viewers' eyebrows, it was the equivalent today of American First Lady Hillary Clinton bounding onto the stage to do a set with pop babe Britney Spears.

But Angela says the strong reaction surprised them.

"I did it with the full approval of the BBC. We all just thought it was an amazing accolade to be asked to be on the top BBC TV programme of the year.

"I thought 'what a compliment' and TV news thought 'what a lot of fun'. I don't think any of us thought it would have the impact it did."

Angela Rippon, now 55, had appeared as the BBC's first female news reader in 1975, sitting in a hot seat which had, until then, been the preserve of such male household names as Richard Baker and Kenneth Kendall.

This, in itself, was no mean feat in terms of ability and determination.

And, once on the screen, her perfectly appointed features oozed a calm authority, as she appeared to fix each viewer, individually, with an unwavering gaze.

Somehow she managed to combine bloody upheaval in Northern Ireland with the merest whiff of sensuality in the delivery of her bulletins.

What the British public were not to know was that, in watching the Morecombe and Wise side-step into dance, they were seeing a woman showing off a well-honed talent.

While growing up in a council house in Plymouth, Angela had been a keen dancer, though destined to grow too tall for full-time tutus.

"Having gone to ballet classes when I was very small, I also got introduced to classical music. The piano would plonk away in the corner.

"You always hoped you might have the talent to be a dancer but, in my heart of hearts, I knew I never did. Anyway, my ambitions lay elsewhere," she explains.

"I always wanted to be a photo-journalist. They're rather rarified creatures, so I'm not sure why I latched onto that.

"I spent two years training as a photographer and three as a journalist.

"Print journalism was one of the very few, if not the only profession, which had equal pay for men and women.

"We were a tiny staff of four men and three women and I was the rugby correspondent. One man only liked football, one cricket and one had no interest in sport at all. At the time I had a boyfriend who played rugby, so I covered it."

"Then I went to the BBC where, among other things, I became a documentary director quite early on, which is the ultimate photo-journalism job. So one way or another, I got to fulfil my dream.

"It was a lot easier to be a woman in journalism then than it was a little later on. At the time, there was no feeling of having a token woman or asking 'Should a woman be doing that"

Angela recalls a world of black and white TV where captions were balanced on music stands, when cans of film had to be lugged all the way back to London, and where satellite links had to be booked for an exact time far in advance.

"I think it's one of the wonderful things about being in the business as long as I have. I've worked through news, current affairs, in outside broadcasts - I've seen all these technological changes. That's the most amazing thing."

"There's never any point in getting starry. It's a wonderful job and I wouldn't change it for the world. But at the end of the day you're only a nut, bolt or a cog in a very large machine."

Today, she is proud of the fact that she is among a small group of women, including Anna Ford, Esther Rantzen and Judith Chalmers, who opened the doors to subsequent generations of women on television.

"Together we have all been good at what we have done. We've all survived to see the kind of atmosphere where young women with enormous talent have been accepted into the industry.

"That means we have seen total equality in broadcasting in two generations."

But Angela is also clearly uncomfortable with discussing the issue in depth, as she believes it "ghettoises" females.

"What shouldn't matter is your age, your sex or your looks. At the end of the day you don't fool the audience, they know the people they enjoy watching.

"The way you are on television is as much to do with your character, as it is with the face you have."

But as Angela was to find out, when the face fits and you become a celebrity, you have to have your knocks very publicly scrutinised too.

In 1983, she helped launch TV-am in a frenzy of photographers' flash bulbs, alongside fellow Famous Five presenters, Michael Parkinson, Robert Kee, David Frost and Anna Ford.

At the helm of the station was none other than Jonathan Aitken, once serious mover and shaker, now a bankrupt who's been behind bars for perverting the course of justice.

At the dawn of independent breakfast television, the champagne glasses were barely washed up before problems set in at the early morning station, with its cumbersome "sunshine" logo.

Angela and Anna were unceremoniously sacked two months later.

"I was considered to be at the top of my profession. It was an extraordinary learning curve being made to take the blame when you knew you were blameless."

For a year, the humiliation knocked the very stuffing out of Angela before a stint working in America put her confidence in her abilities back on track.

And on her return to Britain, dancing shimmied back into her life.

Angela had a stint fronting Come Dancing, the hugely popular late night show dedicated to slick moves and even slicker hair lacquer.

She presided over lythe bodies in swirly frocks and sequined trousers as they battled it out to be top of the twirlers.

But other blows were to follow, including the collapse of her marriage to Devonian Chris Dare, who she had wed at the age of 22.

For years the union endured her demanding schedule up in London but, eventually, it died.

She also lost her breakfast show job at LBC radio in 1993, after three years.

Today she presents Watchdog Healthcheck and holiday programmes for the BBC, as well as Simply Money for Sky digital.

Although she has a lot of friends in television, the majority are outside the enormous Beeb empire.

"All the knocks in life hopefully make us stronger," she explains matter of factly.

"Also I think you have to work on the old adage 'Don't explain, don't complain'. You have to get on with it. Our disasters are fairly minor compared to what happens to other people.

"Learning to have confidence in yourself and your ability, and being fortunate in having a good group of loving friends and family makes all the difference.

"You do build up a toughness on the outside which is there as a protection for yourself. You have to learn how to look after yourself - that's probably one of the most important things."

It's this sort of mentality which defined her reaction to being mugged in Notting Hill, London, in the spring.

In a violent attack by two men she was thrown to the ground and her handbag eventually torn from her shoulder. Angela put up a valiant defence, earning herself some heavy-duty damage to her neck and shoulders as a result.

She didn't make a fuss. She declined medical assistance. She was frightened - but she didn't complain.

But what lies behind this "toughness on the outside", the immaculately presented television personality, with the smart brain and the clear clipped tones

Angela's private life includes concerts, theatre, cinema, reading voraciously ("mostly novels because what I read in work is so factual") and entertaining.

"Believe me, I enjoy myself too," she strongly asserts, rebuffing the suggestion she is a workaholic.

Is she a good cook "I haven't poisoned anybody yet. When I invite people for dinner, they are quite happy to come back again. Perhaps it's the quality of the wine."

To merely tag Angela Rippon as a cool professional is to ignore the dancer inside.

There is real warmth and strength of feeling when she talks of women in journalism.

And she apologises for "gabbling" in the face of faltering shorthand.

Then, when told a senior Daily Echo manager still carries a torch for her, Angela erupts into loud gaffawes of glee, which last a full ten seconds.

Tomorrow night (Sun) Angela will be hosting a concert at the New Forest Show Ground, near Lyndhurst.

The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra will perform classical favourites from its rich repertoire, including works by Grieg, Rossini and Bizet.

Tickets are available by calling the Mayflower Theatre box office on 023 8071 1811 or 01202 456456.

Converted for the new archive on 25 January 2001. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.