Frank Evens British Bullfighter

From the battered, deep brick-red metal sheeting of the temporary plaza de toros, plonked on a piece of wasteland beside the railway station at the dog-end of Lebrijas, itself an Andalucian town of almost nil distinction, comes a roll of drums and a weedy blast on trumpet and saxophone as the town band announces the arrival into the bullring of that day's matadors, bandaleros and sword handlers as they make their triumphant march across the spotless pale golden sand. On the far right a tall slim chap with ginger-ish hair, dressed in the 'traje corto', the tight fitting black bolero suit used for minor bullfights, doffs his hat and salutes the crowd.

Even from the top ranks of the rickety benches he sticks out from the rest of the field - hardly surprising, he's Frank Evans, Britain's only bullfighter. But whether it's hick-town Andalucia or the soaring heights of Las Ventas in Madrid, Spain's most famous bullring, when that big, black temper on the hoof makes a run at you you'd better be ready to stand your ground - and Frank Evans has done it more times than any other non-Latin bullfighter in the history of the spectacle.

The number of British matadors who have stood in front of a bull can be counted on three fingers. The first was the ex-public schoolboy, Vincent Hitchcock who fought during the 1950's. During the '60's Henry Higgins had a brief moment of fame, but none have had the staying power of Salford's Frank Evans, who killed his first bull at the age of seventeen in 1966 and, except for a period in the 70's, has worn the sparkling suite of lights every year since.

The next time I see Frank is in a world far away from the heat and gore of the bullring, in his comfortable office in a leafy suburb of Manchester from where he runs his business empire of care homes for people with learning difficulties, property building and rental, a company manufacturing kitchens and bedrooms, and importing Havana cigars. In his cord trousers and open-necked polo shirt he is the epitome of the relaxed businessman. Having lost more money on failed enterprises than most people would even contemplate beginning - restaurants, a taxi firm, industrial window cleaning, funeral parlor, he even had a travel agency with George Best that folded - he's content with his lot in the business world..

Aficionados of bullfighting will tell you that only the sons of matadors or the poorest Spaniards have the courage, ambition and determination to become a great bullfighter but while Frank Evans may never rate amongst the greatest names in the world of the corrida he was as ambitious as any young Spanish boy when his father told him the tales of the bullfights he'd seen when he'd been in Gibraltar during the Second World War. Frank's Spanish education was broadened when, in his teens, a family from Granada moved into the house next door and when one of the daughters took up with a Salford lad and married him, Frank was invited to the wedding in Spain, where he finally got his chance to see real bullfight.

There were lots of English people there and we all went to the bullfight but half of them got up and walked out once the action started. I wasn't disturbed by that because I'd seen things that were more violent in the slaughterhouses in Manchester. What stood out for me was the danger and I became an aficionado right there and then."

Evans admits that if he thought about it now he'd never try to enter the enclosed culture of the corrida but things are different when you are an enthusiastic sixteen-year old.

I've always been an optimist and it had never really occurred to me that an Englishman could be a bullfighter, but equally it never occurred to me that you couldn't. It's like a young lad who wants to play for Manchester United, he doesn't want to do it for the money, he just wants to do it. It's one of the advantages of being young and enthusiastic, I suppose, you are quite oblivious to reality."

If it wasn't for the brief fame of Henry Higgins however, Frank might never have fulfilled his ambition to enter the corrida, a fact that only came out when he and his manager, George Eric, presented themselves before Carbonero, a French impresario who's agent had signed a contract for 'El Ingles' (The Englishman) to have his first bullfight.

In his rapid, light Manchester accent, Evans tells the story of his meeting with Carbonero in the Bar Atlantic, the taurino hangout on Barcelona's Las Rablas.

He came in and shook hands with everybody and said "Where's El Ingles?" and Carol (the agent) said, "This is him here." So Carbonero looks at me and he said "Have I met you before?" "Never." "Have you been to France, have you been to my house?" "No, Never." So he turned to Carol and said, "This is not the one," and we suddenly realised he was looking for Henry Higgins! He then said to me "How many fights have you had?" "None." "Well how many cows have you fought on the ranches?" "None." "How many animals have you stood in front of?" "I've not stood in front of any!" So he turned to Eric and said, listen he's not ready, there's no way you can put him in a fight. Eric took me to one side and said to me "Listen Frank, I want to ask you one question. Are you sure you want to go through with this?" I said, "As sure as I've ever fu***ing been about anything. If you get one fight and never get any more at least you're a bullfighter for the rest of your life, you've got to get your first one in." He turned to Cabonero and Carol and pulled out the contract that Carol had already signed "That's the contract gentlemen. He's fighting on that 24th. We'll see you there. Good afternoon." And that was it, and they did all sorts of things to try and get me off the bill."

The fact of every bullfighter's life is that at some time he will be gored, caught by the bull's horns. As Evans says himself, he has been "knocked about by all sorts of bulls, they've had me from my toes to the tip of my head". His worst goring wasn't even in the bullring but at the end of a day when he had been fighting cows on a farm. Bull or cow, it doesn't matter because a horn hurts wherever it hits and Evans was caught in one of the most uncomfortable places of all - a direct hit up the anus.

The cow's horn had been so thin and sharp that at first his fellow matadors didn't realise where he'd been gored and it was only after he had been carried from the bullring and been undressed that they saw where the damage had been done. After three month's rest Evans was back in the ring - although very careful about turning his back on the bull again!

No-one connected with the corrida ever refers to it as a sport. 'Sport' assumes equally matched opponents with an undetermined outcome. In bullfighting the bull almost always dies, only a handful of the bravest are allowed to live. It is inevitable that Evans comes up against those who dislike bullfighting but he is philosophical about the killing of the bull and doesn't enter into arguments with those who might be against the spectacle. "When I was young I worked in my father's butcher shop and saw many worse things happen in a slaughterhouse than I've ever seen in the bullring. People still eat the meat, they just don't want to face the fact that an animal dies to provide it."

It would be easy to think of Frank Evans as some sort of quixotic Eddie the Eagle figure, a bit of a joke as far as the Spanish go. But far from being a five-minute wonder like dear old Eddie, Frank has been plying his bullfighting craft for coming up to 40 years and is held in high regard by many in the Spanish know.

It's only the British press that make those sort of comparisons, the Spanish never do. In some ways it's a benefit being English because I occasionally get booked so that people can see how I handle myself. But on the day I get booed or cheered for how I perform, just as any Spanish matador, and that's fine by me. Okay, the crowd may throw in a few 'bloody useless Brit' sort of comments if I don't do well, but they are just as quick with the insults for the Spanish"

Despite having fought at most of Spain's major bullrings he never made the list for Las Ventas, the Holy Grail of the Matador. When asked if he's disappointed that he never made it to Madrid he grins and quotes El Gallo, an old-time torero who once said, "Bullfighting is impossible for everyone - it is also very difficult." He admits that it's impossible to get a fight at Las Ventas but, as it's also very difficult, he hasn't given up hoping and while in England still practices his sword work on a bale of hay in a specially rigged mock-up bull and exercises daily at his local gym, where the regulars are well used to see him sweeping the muleta, the heavy red cape, in wide, elegant strokes. His latest exercise regime, as much for fun as anything, is a jive class, where his years of elegant hip movements in avoiding a rampaging bull stand him in good stead with the lady rockers.

Frank Evans retired from the corrida last year, as the result of a dicky knee. When the David Beckham's of this world retire they are lauded with all kinds of honours for being such sterling examples of British sportsmanship. When the Frank Evans's go they get nothing. There are thousands of footballers, cricketers, tennis players and golfers but there's only ever been one Frank Evans, the only Englishman to take the alternativa and become a fully-fledged bullfighter. He'd laugh at the idea of 'Sir Frank' but he deserves some form of recognition for over forty years proving the Spanish wrong. You don't have to be the son of a matador or very poor to be a bullfighter. Being a bloody-minded individual from Salford certainly helps.

Frank Evans retired from bullfighting in 2006, as the result of a long-term knee complaint, unconnected to his career as a torero. He now promotes the corrida and young bullfighters in Spain.

Added 15/8/08: He´s at it again at 65!
Added 30/8/09: At 67 He´s back in the ring!
"Sixty-seven year old Frank Evans could never be accused of being coy with his words.
What, I asked, would he say to people who were opposed to his chosen profession of bullfighting? "I've heard it all my life, and they don't know what they're talking about," shot back the grandfather of five"

By Derek Workman - An English freelance journalist living in Valencia
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