In November 2005, Take That: For The Record was shown on ITV, to a UK audience of six million. It was a pretty good documentary about the boys, their time in the group, and what they'd been doing since the split in 1996. When the papers mentioned it, all they could write about was whether it would reunite the whole group - would Robbie turn up? Would he and Gary forgive and forget? Blah blah blah. They all but ignored the instance where one of the lads had confessed to feeling suicidal.
When the group split up, the Samaritans had to set up a special helpline for distressed fans. It was all about the fans - how would they cope? Many of them were girls in their early teens, and this was the first heartbreak they'd have to endure - poor them - but did anyone stop to wonder how Howard Donald was coping? Of course they didn't - he had fame and money, and no one with fame and money ever feels like their world is crashing in around them.
In the documentary, Howard says, "I already knew that the group was gonna finish, and um, I decided to walk out of the hotel and go to the Thames... I've never told anybody about this, I was seriously thinking of jumping in the Thames, thinking I wanted to kill myself. But I'm just too much of a shitbag to do it."
It's hardly surprising when you think about it. When he auditioned for Take That, Howard was re-spraying cars for a living. Dancing was his talent, and he landed on his feet when manager Nigel Martin-Smith took a liking to him and put him in the band. Suddenly, he was working with a group of best mates, travelling the world, earning more than he could ever have dreamed of, and there were adoring women everywhere he went. Then one day, before he'd grown tired of it, someone suggested it should all end. Everyone agreed but Howard, and he was powerless to change their minds.
It's the nature of celebrity, I suppose: some celebs are confident and comfortable with whatever ability they have and, rightly or wrongly, they feel like being famous is somehow their calling. Others, like Howard, can't believe their luck and spend every day worrying that the rug will be pulled from under their feet, they'll suddenly be a pathetic boyband has-been and nobody will love them any more.
The Smash Hits Take That tribute edition (out now in all good newsagents) illustrates this perfectly. It reprints some of the old interviews from the group's heyday, and the signs were all there.
Smash Hits: Is today a rehearsal for tomorrow?
Howard: [Emphatically] No it's not... I don't really know what I'm going to be next, to be honest. I've had such a good life - it might be my turn for something horrible after this.
Smash Hits: Is it really you that you see reflected in the mirror?
Howard: Yeah. But you can look at yourself and think, "Why me? Why am I this big in this group?" I can't believe it sometimes that the "me" in the mirror is Take That's Howard.
[Smash Hits being Smash Hits, of course, then moves on to a question about sausage rolls].
Smash Hits: Do you ever stop and wonder at how famous you are?
Howard: Oh yeah, all the time.
Smash Hits: Are you in love?
Howard: No, I'm in love with Take That and what I'm doing... I love the other members of the band. If one of them got hurt tomorrow I love them enough to cry.
Smash Hits: Does the thought of not being in Take That frighten you?
Howard: Yeah, it really does. If it all stopped tomorrow it would just hit me so hard. I wouldn't be able to take it.
And if he was saying this kind of stuff to journalists, heaven knows what he was saying to his closest friends. But would anyone have taken him seriously? Money and fame are no guarantee of mental health but that's how people seem to feel about celebrities, as if their piles of cash can somehow make everything okay - "what's he got to worry about? Bloody whingeing celebrities". And if everything's not okay, at least they can buy themselves another car or house, or enough booze and drugs to make it seem okay temporarily.
It's always worth discussing whether we should show understanding or even sympathy towards paedophiles and murderers, and many people do. But it's very rare that sympathy is shown towards rich people. I hope that the wilderness years between Take That's split and their come-back gave Howard some perspective, I hope he's okay now and he won't feel the same way when they inevitably stop making albums again. But if he does, I hope he knows that the Samaritans will listen to him as well as his fans.
When the group split up, the Samaritans had to set up a special helpline for distressed fans. It was all about the fans - how would they cope? Many of them were girls in their early teens, and this was the first heartbreak they'd have to endure - poor them - but did anyone stop to wonder how Howard Donald was coping? Of course they didn't - he had fame and money, and no one with fame and money ever feels like their world is crashing in around them.
In the documentary, Howard says, "I already knew that the group was gonna finish, and um, I decided to walk out of the hotel and go to the Thames... I've never told anybody about this, I was seriously thinking of jumping in the Thames, thinking I wanted to kill myself. But I'm just too much of a shitbag to do it."
It's hardly surprising when you think about it. When he auditioned for Take That, Howard was re-spraying cars for a living. Dancing was his talent, and he landed on his feet when manager Nigel Martin-Smith took a liking to him and put him in the band. Suddenly, he was working with a group of best mates, travelling the world, earning more than he could ever have dreamed of, and there were adoring women everywhere he went. Then one day, before he'd grown tired of it, someone suggested it should all end. Everyone agreed but Howard, and he was powerless to change their minds.
It's the nature of celebrity, I suppose: some celebs are confident and comfortable with whatever ability they have and, rightly or wrongly, they feel like being famous is somehow their calling. Others, like Howard, can't believe their luck and spend every day worrying that the rug will be pulled from under their feet, they'll suddenly be a pathetic boyband has-been and nobody will love them any more.
The Smash Hits Take That tribute edition (out now in all good newsagents) illustrates this perfectly. It reprints some of the old interviews from the group's heyday, and the signs were all there.
Smash Hits: Is today a rehearsal for tomorrow?
Howard: [Emphatically] No it's not... I don't really know what I'm going to be next, to be honest. I've had such a good life - it might be my turn for something horrible after this.
Smash Hits: Is it really you that you see reflected in the mirror?
Howard: Yeah. But you can look at yourself and think, "Why me? Why am I this big in this group?" I can't believe it sometimes that the "me" in the mirror is Take That's Howard.
[Smash Hits being Smash Hits, of course, then moves on to a question about sausage rolls].
Smash Hits: Do you ever stop and wonder at how famous you are?
Howard: Oh yeah, all the time.
Smash Hits: Are you in love?
Howard: No, I'm in love with Take That and what I'm doing... I love the other members of the band. If one of them got hurt tomorrow I love them enough to cry.
Smash Hits: Does the thought of not being in Take That frighten you?
Howard: Yeah, it really does. If it all stopped tomorrow it would just hit me so hard. I wouldn't be able to take it.
And if he was saying this kind of stuff to journalists, heaven knows what he was saying to his closest friends. But would anyone have taken him seriously? Money and fame are no guarantee of mental health but that's how people seem to feel about celebrities, as if their piles of cash can somehow make everything okay - "what's he got to worry about? Bloody whingeing celebrities". And if everything's not okay, at least they can buy themselves another car or house, or enough booze and drugs to make it seem okay temporarily.
It's always worth discussing whether we should show understanding or even sympathy towards paedophiles and murderers, and many people do. But it's very rare that sympathy is shown towards rich people. I hope that the wilderness years between Take That's split and their come-back gave Howard some perspective, I hope he's okay now and he won't feel the same way when they inevitably stop making albums again. But if he does, I hope he knows that the Samaritans will listen to him as well as his fans.
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