IT was totally appropriate that Bill Hanks should have been lain to rest with a microphone in his hand. For showbiz provided the adrenaline rush that kept this extraordinary clubland entertainer performing right up to his death at the age of 72.

He was born William Hankinson from Charnwood Street, Parr, close to St Peter's churchyard where he now lies buried.

But very few knew him by anything other than his showbiz nickname. Even the inscription on the family plot reads 'Bill Hanks'.

Members of his large Parr clan -- Bill had six children and 13 grandchildren -- are currently completing their totting-up of the donations which poured in to the memory of the legendary entertainer. The cash will eventually be forwarded to one or other of the charities which Bill supported over his half-century-plus singing career.

It includes proceeds of house-full memorial concerts at Moss Bank Labour Club and Parr Conservative Club, where top acts almost formed a queue to perform voluntarily in Bill's honour. Then there are the smaller, though equally-appreciated, contributions from family, friends and admirers.

One of his four daughters, Janet Baker of Blackdown Grove, Parr, said: "The family would like to thank everybody for their sympathy and kindness to us. Dad would really have appreciated it. We'd especially like to mention his long-time singing partner Jimmy Beddow and organist Mike Callaghan. They were among his closest buddies".

As well as his girls (the other daughters are Susan, June and Joanne) there are two singing sons to keep alive the family's musical tradition. Alan also doubles as a compere, and Stephen performs under the stage name of Stephen Gillespie.

Bill also left a wife of almost half a century, Marjorie (69) who is now improving well from a setback in health, and his younger brother Joe, an accomplished drummer whose son, Gary, has followed in his musical footsteps.

Bill Hanks made his first showbiz bow on the stage of St Helens Theatre as a 14-year-old, performing alongside his jazz singer mother, Lavinia. But it was during the height of Jolson-mania, in the late 40s early-50s, that he began to make a name for himself. And he hit the local headlines after a successful appearance on the then nationally-famous Carole Levis discoveries show.

In these politically correct times it's extremely doubtful if Bill's act, emulating jazz legend Al Jolson's blacked-up performances, would have got off the ground. Later the make-up was abandoned, and Bill extended his act to singing the evergreens of Sinatra, Crosby, Como and the rest of the crooning elite, as well as performing his customary Jolson numbers which had audiences roaring for encores.

It was while appearing at the old Derbyshire Hill Labour Club, shortly after National Service in the army, that Bill was to forge an on-stage link that would last 50 years.

In the audience was Jimmy Beddow, then concert secretary, who still loves to reminisce about that special night. "I just couldn't help harmonising along with Bill while he was on the mike doing his Jolson stuff. He then invited me to join him on stage.

" We hit it off right from the start and set up our Hanks and Beddow act, winning clubland awards and performing at places all over the north and at resorts like Southport, New Brighton, and Blackpool in particular"

As recently as last summer, just months before Bill's death in hospital, the duo paid five separate visits to Blackpool, singing at various venues each afternoon and night.

"The stage held a special magic for Bill", says his deeply-saddened old chum, who, at 70, and after suffering three strokes, is still prepared to give a turn at the mike. "I feel that something special has gone out of my life".

Jimmy pours scorn on some of the modern-day entertainers, whom he describes as being karaoke acts. "In our time, you had to have genuine talent. There was a microphone on stage, and that was it!"

Since Bill's death, Jimmy, who lives at Thatto Heath, had been reluctant to visit Blackpool again. But he was recently persuaded by relatives to take a short holiday there.

It was likely to have been a working vacation. For Jimmy, about to set off when I spoke to him, had intended to perform a few songs at the resort, dedicated to the memory of his showbiz partner.

In earlier times, Bill worked for a leading dairy and was affectionately known throughout the district as the singing milkman. But that day job was merely the means to support his growing family. It was when at the mike, under the spotlights, that Bill Hanks really came alive.