Radio presenter Lammert de Bruin has a blind fascination for the greats: ‘Hollywood is a nice view from Buitenpost’

Dress warmly, I live in a centuries-old house. Just before the interview, Lammert de Bruin (44) sends an app to warn about the cold. It is the AVROTROS presenter through and through: attentive, friendly and hospitable. With coffee he serves Soester peat, a local specialty. He quickly went to the bakery for it.

It is indeed chilly in his attractive home, an inn from 1580 directly opposite the Old Church of Soest. Candles are burning everywhere. “Eleven years ago I had a Funda addiction, then I came across this house. This part was the drive-through stable of the inn. Stadtholder Willem seems to have slept here one night when he had Soestdijk Palace built.”

De Bruin is a collector of people with a special story and beautiful things. He has been collecting them for years. In the attic is the stapler from the office of Colonel Parker, Elvis Presley’s Dutch manager. Bought it via auction site Ebay. Just like a scrapbook about Prince Bernhard with postcards signed by the prince.

He also bought the framed photo on the wall of Princess Gracia of Monaco – when she was still actress Grace Kelly – via the auction site. Her signature is on a piece of paper under the photo. “It has faded a bit, but there is something magical about the idea that she touched that piece of paper, that her DNA is on it. He is a world star who has had a tough life. Nice to have a piece of her in my home.”

Sitting still is not an option for the enthusiastic and energetic journalist. De Bruin presents with Suzanne Bosman five days a week One today on NPO radio 1. This year he created the well-listened to podcast series with fellow journalist Babs Assink The Butler Murder , Penoza in the countryside and JFK: the missing link .

“Bee One today I am busy with the daily news. That is very fleeting, what is news today will fill the litter box tomorrow. For a podcast I can completely dive into a story. Then the rest of the world can be stolen from me. Preferably a story from the past that has not yet been resolved or that contains something unfair.”

In addition to the photo of Princess Gracia, there is an etching by Carel Willink and a screen print of Elvis Presley made by Andy Warhol in your living room. You have a blind fascination for celebrities with preferably an intense life. Where does that fascination come from?

“I don’t identify with them, but perhaps the fact that I grew up in a poor environment with a mother on welfare plays a role. Then those stars are a kind of vista. I saw them on television when Ivo Niehe visited them. I thought that was fantastic, I could escape from reality for a while. Everyone likes to dream, right? Hollywood is a big dream and I fell head over heels for it. It doesn’t matter if you grow up in poverty, you can always become successful. Just look at Elvis.”

You were not yet born when Elvis died, what about him touches you?

“My mother instilled a love for Elvis in me when I was very little. When he was on the radio she turned it up a bit and asked ‘who is this Lammert?’ I knew I had to say Elvis because with other songs she never asked. I immediately loved him with that special, slightly shouty voice. When I saw the man in those suits with glitter, diamonds and gold, I was captivated. But I was also impressed by his life story. Grew up in poverty and became incredibly rich. It’s the same feeling I have with Grace Kelly. How much story do you want in a human life?”

You were not well off at home, you say. What kind of circumstances did you grow up in?

“I was born in 1979 in Buitenpost, at the time one of the poorest municipalities in the Netherlands. I grew up in a real working-class family. My mother cleaned and worked in a butcher’s shop, my father worked at a land company. He is descended from a notorious man in Friesland, Salomon Levi. A German Jew who was beheaded by the French at the end of the 18th century for leading an uprising of angry peasants. They tried to get someone out of prison with torches and pitchforks.”

“He shouted at a French gendarme that he would cut him into pieces. Then he was arrested. In my father’s side of the family we have typical Jewish humor. There is a spirit of commerce, we want to make money and spot bargains. Our past may explain who we are. Quite recalcitrant. And we don’t take the authorities very seriously or take their word for it.”

What role did your father play in your life?

“I was largely raised by my mother and my sister, who is 7 years older. Later, Freddy, my mother’s new boyfriend, joined us. My parents divorced when I was 5. I felt that it was something special at the time. I rode my tractor down the street and shouted ‘my father and mother are getting divorced’. We moved a few streets away and after that I only saw my father once every two weeks. I missed him very much. He did not have his affairs in order and was a severe alcoholic. After high school I wanted to join the police, but that was not possible because my father had a criminal record. That was a big disappointment for me.”

That must be intense if your father has a criminal record. What had he done?

“He was imprisoned a few times for fencing. With his trunk full of stolen items, he drove from pub to pub to make a quick buck. He sold things like winter coats and kitchen clocks, but also heavily illegal fireworks. If he had to go to prison he said he was going on holiday. I knew the truth from my mother and poked fun at it by sending a card and wishing him a pleasant holiday with nice weather. Then he also sent me cards back.”

You talk very light-heartedly and laughingly about your childhood, which must not have been easy.

“When I say it like this it all sounds very intense, but at that time in that environment it was not so special to have a father who sold stolen things. At the beginning of the last century, people in that part of the country still lived in sod huts. It was poverty. They were left to their own devices for a long time and had nothing to do with the government.”

“That may be why my father did not take the law so seriously. He died when I was 17. The alcohol. I don’t blame him. Addiction is a disease. It is not the person who does something bad, but the addiction. Maybe you have to experience it yourself to understand that. This makes me look at the world in less black and white terms than others. I’m less quick to judge.”

Shortly after his death you started studying journalism in Zwolle. That was the first time you dared to say that you are attracted to men.

“I knew from a young age that I liked boys, and I struggled with that. Apart from the hairdresser, I didn’t think anyone in my village was like that. Homosexuality was not discussed at school or in church. It was a different time. In those years, people immediately thought of homosexuality: oh AIDS, oh diseases, oh bad. You saw Gay Pride in Amsterdam for the first time on television. People talked about this in Buitenpost as: ‘Oh those dirty fags on the canals’.”

“I really wondered, is this how I should be gay? I was also quite lonely in my room during those years. Fortunately, I have a very good ability to put things into perspective. I’m good at laughing things off. Sometimes I laughed maybe a little too quickly and too easily. But that positive attitude to life has kept me going.”

Is that smile a mask?

“No, my face reveals what I think about something. I don’t like talking with the brakes on. Fifteen years ago I was one of the first to be very active on Twitter. I like to give my opinion, but I have become more cautious. There are mainly angry white men, but also woke activists. People from both camps swear at me, threaten me or wish me all kinds of diseases. Discussion is no longer possible, you are immediately assigned to a camp. That kills everything. It was once a fun medium that brought worlds together. Now it is polarizing. Too bad because it is important to keep talking to people who think differently than you. The world is not black and white.”