Road to Munchengladbach.

Road to Munchengladbach.

May 1973.

The first leg of the 1972/73 UEFA Cup Final. Liverpool had already wrapped up the League Championship, defeating arch rivals Leeds United 2-0 at Anfield. We were on our travels. The faithful Escort Van was on the road again. James 'Knocker' Knox, generally regarded as a tight arsed bastard but nonetheless a committed Reds fan, and me. Newcastle had been the first stop on Easter Saturday. A four hour drive up the A1, the Great North Road as it was still known as then. 'Digs' were sorted out courtesy of my sister in law's sister Pat and her hub Tom. Pat had returned to her home town some six years previously from Corby, met Tom a devoted Leazes End fanatic, and settled in Heaton, a rundown area of the city. The trip was incident free bar for a slight accident at a service station just outside Newcastle. Reversing out of the car park I managed to knock a motorbike over and the terrible thing about it is - we just scarpered - and left the bike on its side. Guilt bugged me for awhile but justice would be done later that summer when some bastard scratched the side of my van one night in Portsmouth. That biker had tracked me down! Liverpool lost 1-2 so the championship was put on hold at least until the Leeds game. An irony that emerged from the Newcastle episode was that Pat and Knocker had known each other back in Corby some ten years before. Knocker suffered with rhinitis, a runny nose, which made him a constant picture of misery. And an unforgettable memory for Pat! He did have a sense of humour though, occasionally letting slip an odd smile now and again.

Leeds were beaten 2-0 on Easter Monday and with adrenalin coursing through our veins we were determined to see the season out and getting to both legs of the impending UEFA Cup Final against the Germans from Munchengladbach. Knocker was up for it. The rest of the gang, Pat, Wilf, Dennis, Jeff, Big Alan and co all had commitments. They were married!

The first leg at Anfield was a wash out, literally. Half an hour into the game the heavens opened up and the pitch quickly assumed a lake. The ball wouldn't travel more than a couple of feet in the monsoon and the referee had no option but to call the game off. Pissed off, let alone for the fact that the game was immediately rescheduled for the following night and would mean us having to miss it - unless we could get away with it by staying somewhere overnight. Pat and Wilf were keen, as I was, but Knocker was adamant, he had to go to work next morning. Respectful of his conscientiousness, he was reluctant to let the Tubeworks down, we returned home back down the M6. And the following night we listened on the radio as Liverpool demolished the Germans 3-0!

Determined more than ever to get to the second leg the following week, this would after all be Liverpool's first European trophy should they hold on, plans were set afoot to organise the trek. Knocker redeemed himself and announced he was going, shame the rest couldn't make it, James was hardly a bundle of laughs but it was company for me. One thing that was deemed necessary prior to the trip was a smallpox jab with the disease sweeping the continent. They told me I should feel some effects about a week later. Which only came to mind after we had returned home. The Escort headed for Harwich where we parked up and embarked on the mid day ferry to the Hook of Holland. Eventful free, the North Sea was like a millpond. Next stop was Rotterdam for an overnight stay in any hotel we could find. Having a beer in a bar we were joined by a Scotsman sitting on his own and who had heard our dulcet tones. '”Whereabouts in Scotland you from?" he asked, to the amusement of Knocker who always laughed at such things because of my Welsh descent and obvious pride in my ancestry. I said he had a zany sense of humour. Rotterdam was dead, 'Jock' told us the place to be was Amsterdam. No doubt about that we figured. The only memorable thing about Rotterdam was having a spat with an old lady outside the toilets at Rotterdam Station. Shaking her saucer it was apparent that you had to pay for a piss on the continent. 'No way' said Knocker. I agreed. 'Fuck me you don't have to pay for a piss in Britain, bollocks to you' which enraged the old bag even further. Shouting Dutch expletives at us, we made a sharp exit, relieved to get away from her.

Finally we were on the Munchengladbach Express. Which entailed a brief stop on the border in which the German customs officials boarded the train looking for reprobates, they frightened the hell out of us, guns in holsters, blue uniforms, and abrasive manner - I half expected to be lifted there and then. Ignorant bastards.

Munchengladach was swathed in sunshine when we arrived on the Tuesday, the day before the big game. Heading up the main road opposite the station a horde of Reds fans were seen sitting around on the grass outside a big hotel. Turns out this is where the team was staying. Phil Thompson even had the grace to stick his nose out of the window and acknowledge us all. No wonder they called him Gonzo! Great lad and player all the same. It was when one of the lads asked us where me and Knocker were staying that it occurred we hadn't given it any thought! 'Fuck knows' I said, open to any suggestions. 'We'll find a hotel or something', Knocker butted in. 'We're all staying in the station, why don't you join us?' this feller asked. That immediately sounded a good idea, free for a start off, guaranteed a good laugh as well, albeit it might be a tad uncomfortable but what the hell. Knocker moaned in his inimitable way. 'Fuck off' I said, 'it'll be a crack'. And it was. There must have been around thirty scousers, full of devilment which came to the fore when a sudden swooshing noise hit our ears and we turned round to see six flags which adorned the outside of the hotel, sailing down to the ground. Two of the scallys were gathering them up as the doormen emerged from the hotel and came running out, shouting and screaming. Everybody jumped up and ran like hell back down the main road with the outraged Germans chasing us and with the sound of police sirens filling the air. Knocker was beside himself! 'Fucking hell, call this a laugh!' As it happened the flags were retrieved and thanks to our scouse friends we were all kept under surveillance from then on in. The Station Waiting Room was our hotel. A foreboding windowless place with a few tables and benches around the walls, dark and unwelcoming, it would have to do.

After being told that tickets for the game were on sale at the ground, which we immediately sorted out, the next few hours were spent idling around the bars and cafes in search of some edible grub. They just didn't know how to serve up a decent plate of sausage and chips! Horrible stuff. Squelchy and tasteless bangers. Ugh! At least the lager was strong and would prove to be a sufficient nightcap. Or so we thought.

Settled down for the night, a pack of cards appeared and a game of Brag ensued. Everyone found their own preferred spot to bed down, rucksacks as a pillow. Or a pair of boots. Me and Knocker claimed a hard wooden table each and tried to get some Z's. All was fine until the night was interrupted by two German police entering and doing a head count whilst nudging and kicking various members of the ensemble scattered around on the floor and furniture. One scouser really cracked us up. A rough and ready looking character, the guy had traveled over from Liverpool in just an army jacket and a vest. Broad shouldered and built like the proverbial brick outhouse, he wasn't taking any shit. Curled up on the stone floor, he told the krauts in no uncertain manner what his thoughts were.That made us giggle. Satisfied, the police moved off. Only to return every hour throughout the night! 'Some fucking hotel this is' our friend on the floor complained, 'you get woken up every fucking hour by these bastards!'

Needless to say, we were all knackered next morning but hey, this was the big day. The night when the Reds would finally conquer Europe!

Weather was great throughout the day, the sun shone encouragingly as the day passed relaxing and enjoying the bevy and banter. Right up until the kick off. An hour before the game, dark clouds appeared and right on cue, the heavens opened up to give us a reminder of Anfield just the week before. The Liverpool end of the ground was open air, no cover and it was all you could do but stand there and get soaked to the skin. Fuck me, all this way for this! Thunder and lightening added to the woes. This was also the first time we'd seen fences around a football ground, a magnet for scousers to tease and wind up the German police and dog handlers circling pitch side to discourage any would be intruders. Skirmishes broke out and the scene was threatening to turn ugly with the police rattling the fences with batons as some tried to climb up and over to take them on. The Alsatians were going mad; maybe it was the noise of the Liverpool fans turning up the volume for their pre match repertoire. Things quietened down when at long last, the teams emerged from the tunnel under the glare of the floodlights. Liverpool, led by Ironman, Tommy Smith, the hard as nails battle hardened veteran of Anfield. Ever since seeing the words Tommy Smith - Ironman, emblazoned on the back of a scousers denim jacket at an away match at Tottenham in 1966, Tommy had been my idol, bearing the same name was a mere coincidence! Thomas - my middle name!

The game kicked off as the rain relented, and within twenty minutes the Germans were back in the tie, two early goals making the overall score 2-3 in an avalanche of attacks, reminiscent of the Luftwaffe itself! Shankly, the Emperor, the ringmaster and great leader of Liverpool FC, strode up and down the touchline, encouraging his men to hang on in there, to stem the flow, egged on by the mass of scouse fervour behind the goal. Eventually, the Germans blew themselves out, the Reds took control. Shankly returned to his bunker, the dugout. The minutes dwindled away, the noise from the Liverpool end engulfing the stadium, Gladbach were beaten, it was they who were hanging on the ropes, a spent force. The whistle went, Liverpool had conquered Europe. Victors by 3-2 on aggregate. Hysteria and emotion took over. The players slumped to the ground. The Reds fans were not to be held back. Over the fences they climbed. The dogs and police had long gone. 'Come on' I shouted at Knocker. A shrug of his shoulders, a silly satisfied grin on his face telling me that he had no intention of attempting to climb over the eight foot high fence and it was 'I'll see you later!' Scaling the fence which was angled inwards at the top was a lot harder than I envisaged but bollocks to it. The Liverpool fans were like lemmings going over a cliff. I got to the top, my jeans got caught on a sharp piece of the fence and ripped a hole in my leg. 'Fuck it!' Momentarily stranded like a fish in a net and dangling, I looked up to see my mate Knocker, walking along the inside of the fence behind the goals, pitch side! With that stupid grin on his face. Calling me a daft twat he informed me they had opened a gate in the corner to allow the fans on to celebrate! Fucking typical!

On the pitch, the ceremony was lost in a maelstrom of ebullient and rejoicing Liverpool fans. Somewhere the players had been presented with their medals and the incongruous large trophy. But where were they? Suddenly, there was the man, Ironman! Surrounded by over joyous scousers, patting him on the back, jostling him along on what should have been a lap of honour. Many were besides themselves with joy, some were crying, after all Liverpool had been waiting for this moment for nearly a decade. And there I was, jogging along next to the skipper struggling with this huge cup. The Anfield Iron, with a grimace on his face, wonderful! Then, without warning, Tommy stopped dead in his tracks. 'Give us some room for fucks sake lads, fuck off will yer!' Stunned for a second, the fans drew back, 'alright Tommy lad', 'take it easy Iron'. I swear Tommy was looking at me when he told everybody to fuck off! I was in heaven. Thank you God I said as I looked up. Tommy's gruff and miserable demeanor was legendary, and everybody loved him for it. He took no prisoners, bowed to nobody. What a hero. And he told me personally too fuck off! Wait till I tell everybody back home! Where was Knocker. Christ knows.

We met up outside the ground as things calmed down and the players had found sanctuary in their dressing room. A great and momentous night still had a twist to it. Making our way back to the town and station, hordes of German fans were on the look out for revenge. Christ we had suffered this in just about every city in England, chased everywhere. And here in Germany it was the same. Only this time, it was important to keep your mouth shut! Hope nobody asks us which way to the city centre!

Celebrations continued into the night but at the station it was something of an anti climax. Me and Knocker were the only ones there! The scousers all had return flights that night, our trip home didn't begin until the following night's midnight ferry from Rotterdam. While we would still be trekking across the continent, the team and supporters would be back home and going crazy in Liverpool. Still, what the hell. We were there. And would never forget it.

Digging into the archive - The NME September 26th 1958.

A piece I wrote for a programme for one of Bip's gigs at the Core.

The NME September 26th 1958. 

Here's a quiz question to get you all thinking; what was the number one record on September 26th 1958? Now alright you would need to be a genius or a mastermind on pop music to answer this, but it was in fact, Stupid Cupid by Connie Francis. 

It was quite coincidental that looking through a pile of old newspapers I’ve hoarded, there is a New Musical Express issue 611 from this very day 56 years ago. Costing sixpence, the front cover displays photographs of Connie Francis, Tommy Steele, Elvis Presley, Johnny Mathis and a group photograph of the Mudlarks and the Kalin Twins backstage at the Prince of Wales Theatre, London. Connie has just reached number one in the charts with Stupid Cupid /Carolina Moon. The elevation obviously helped by my mother buying the single from Curtis Balin's Electrical shop on Studfall Avenue. (Where the new Tesco is for those trying to figure that one out). Elvis was apparently; 'On the high seas in the U.S transport ship 'General Randall' en route to Germany and on course for a career as an 'all round entertainer' in a series of films which would send his street cred plummeting. Let's be honest, they might have been not bad at the time but they haven't dated very well.

Advertised at the bottom of the page was The Cossor Automatic Record Player boasting a 4 speed change and able to load ten records for the princely sum of 21 guineas. For the less affluent, The Fidelity Record Player was 'sensational value at only 10 guineas'. Maybe it was but when you could only play one record at a time it was probably fair to say it was a pain in the backside!

This week's Top Ten had Volare by Dean Martin trailing Connie in second place. The Kalin Twins with When at number three. At 4 was Dean Martin with Return to Me. 5 was Peggy Lee and Fever. 6 saw Ricky Nelson and Poor Little Fool consolidating its place from the week before. Climbing from 11 to 7 was Bernard Bresslaw's Mad Passionate Love, no doubt helped by the actor starring in BBC television's Army Game. Bird Dog by the Everly Brothers was at 8 followed by another comedian, Charlie Drake and Splish Splash at 9. Making up the ten was Marty Wilde and Endless Sleep.

The Letters Page was always good reading and this week's issue included a disgruntled John Waterfield from Devon complaining about our own local hero Jim Dale who was compering the BBC Saturday Night 6. 5. Special Show.

'What has happened to Jim Dale? This business of forgetting artist’s names is a badly used gimmick. Or is it that Jim Dale really has a bad memory and as compere can't remember the names? The first programme in the new series left a lot to be desired. I mean, its all very well giving us new faces, but I wonder how many of these artists have had any real stage experience?'

Jack Reid of Ayrshire writes 'I read with disgust that Elvis is recording an album of hymns in memory of his mother. Why doesn't he leave hymns to people who can sing them? I have heard his Peace in the Valley EP and if ever a record showed how not to sing religious songs, then this is it.'

Of course it s all a matter of opinions and if I had been around I would have argued the case on that one. Peace in the Valley showed everyone that Elvis could turn his hand to any kind of genre, religious included. The album he was referring to was His Hand in Mine, a remarkable collection of gospel songs if ever there was one. In my opinion.

What else was happening at this time? Well it was announced that 87 Corby men were unemployed. They obviously didn't fancy shift work at the steelworks and with very little alternative decided they would have a break. Or they were just bone idle!

A Hula Hoop craze was sweeping the nation which brought an early indication as to the way this country was heading down the path to a nanny state. Following reports from Japan that that the Hoop was 'bad for your health' and a German chap keeling over mid swivel with a heart attack, authorities were moved to pass warnings about the danger, particularly to the neck. Nonetheless down every street there would be a crowd swiveling themselves away, hips swaying, head bobbing, not caring if they didn't have an aspirin in the house.

There was a shortage of 'single shillings' - believe it or not. Banks were running out of bobs. Now that wouldn't make much sense to many nowadays, but the bob was an intricate part of our lives back then. You needed one to put in the electric meter! If the bob ran out, you were up the creek unless you had one in your pocket.

On the local music scene, skiffle was still the main source of entertainment for the youth not being called up for National Service with The Hepcats and The Size Seven at the forefront providing the music of Lonnie Donegan and the Vipers for punters at the Welfare, Raven and Nellie's Bin. 

Globally, nuclear tests were being carried out throughout the year by the USSR, USA and Great Britain. America's and Britain’s on the Pacific islands of Bikini and Christmas. Which couldn't have been much joy for the locals. The tests stoked up the fires and protesters in Britain marched on to the U.S. Aldermaston Air base to vent their fears and disgust.

Richard Nixon, Vice President to Eisenhower was sorry he left home for a short tour of South America; Tricky Dicky was booed, shoved and spat on in Peru, attacked by rioters in Venezuela. One wonders what he said to old Dwight D. when he returned; 'thanks a million, next time you can bloody go!' Well maybe not but you can visualise it.

Eisenhower also claimed the first radio speech from space with his broadcast over Christmas; 'To all mankind, America's wish is for peace on Earth and Good Will to men everywhere.' What about the women then Ike? What about the poor souls on Bikini Island?

As Tommy Edwards sang on his number one record at the time' It's all In the Game.

1960 - Rock 'n' Roll Tales; the Beatles and Eddie Cochran Tours.

A revolution was stirring in Britain, a movement slowly gathering pace in the unlikely setting of Scotland that would snowball and turn the music and entertainment world on its' head. A hitherto unremarkable rock group in Liverpool set off for a short tour of the Scottish Highlands in May. The Beatles were setting their wheels in motion for world domination, even though they didn't know it. The week long tour of Scotland was arranged by their then current manager Allan Williams in co-ordination with London agent Larry Parnes.       
John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison, Stuart Sutcliffe and drummer Tommy Moore set off from Lime Street Station for Scotland to back Johnny Gentle ten days after being turned for down Billy Fury because Larry Parnes didn't want Sutcliffe in the line up. Parnes figured he was only in the group because he was a big pal of Lennon's. He couldn't play a note. BBC presenter Brian Mathew described them as 'a penniless backing band'.  The tour, a seven night hike around the outer regions, arranged by dance hall organiser and pig farmer Duncan MacKinnon, had them playing the well worn circuit of dance halls, church halls and converted cinemas. They met up with Gentle for the first time in Alloa where they had less than an hour to sort out a set for the gig at the Town Hall.                                                                                                                                                                                   Johnny; "I was used to this, I wasn't sure though, depending on the boys backing you, how or if they could fall in right away. They couldn't with my complete act so I said 'you know that one, and that one, what do you know that I might know?' We made up an act of half each other's repertoire. Elvis's I Need Your Love Tonight, Buddy Holly's It Doesn't Matter Anymore, Ricky Nelson's Poor Little Fool.  My act was only about six or seven songs. Then they played for about an hour after me, Chuck Berry's Rock And Roll Music and other big hits at the time. The crowd loved it, the girls loved it, only problem was, Duncan MacKinnon didn't like it! He saw the five lads from Liverpool in the gear that they had turned up in, playing on stage and looking like buskers."                                                                                                                                                                                                                         Brian Mathew; "MacKinnon, whose dance hall gear was usually and outsize overcoat and Wellington boots was outraged. He phoned Larry Parnes and told him the band would have to go. A compromise was reached and the band agreed to wear a sort of uniform. George had a black shirt in his bag and Parnes reluctantly agreed to buy the others a similar one, except fro Tommy Moore who he reasoned, because he was at the back playing the drums and virtually out of sight, didn't really need one. Why go to the unnecessary expense?" Next stop on the tour was Inverness where they were billed along with the Lindsay Ross and his Scottish Dance Band in a dual attraction at the Northern Meeting Ballroom. Ross entertaining the larger crowd downstairs while Gentle and the Beatles rocked away above. Fraserburgh, Keith and Nairn were also on the agenda, where their appearance was recalled by a young female fan on a BBC special in the nineties.                                                                                                                                                 "The music was exciting; they were all dressed in black which was different. Everyone else at the time seemed to be wearing a suit, a collar and tie. The ballroom wasn't very big, it was a cinema and they had taken out the first ten rows of seats. And that was the dancehall. The stage was up high and it was mobbed. We stood in front of Johnny Gentle who we thought was gorgeous. Then this lot came on. We didn't think anything of them until afterwards when they became famous. Then we said 'ach! We didn't even like them. We'd shared coke and tea and pie with them during the break.' We couldn't understand what they were saying - because they were from Liverpool. They were just sort of crazy. But nice boys. Young. Next day I was sitting on top of a sand dune with my friend when we spotted the boys on the beach. So we took a casual walk down towards them, trying to make out we were just passing by. John Lennon asked us where the nearest cafe was. We said we'd take them. It was about a quarter of a mile away which suited us! He spent his last shilling on two glasses of chilled orange, one for me." Supporting the group at the Regal Ballroom, Nairn was The Johnny Douglas Combo.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       Douglas; "They arrived in an old Austin 16. They were so poor, at the end of the night, we used to get bed and breakfast, and they all slept in the van!" Silver Beetles manager Allan Williams; "The fee for the tour was something ridiculous. £75 between the five of them. Out of that they had to pay the train fare, had to live and they had to pay for their hotel accommodation. When they came back they were absolutely broke. They did a runner in one of the hotels and I got the bill! They just couldn't afford it. Tommy Moore, who was ten years older than the rest of them, quit when they got back to Liverpool. He'd had enough of Lennon in particular. But his girlfriend told him in no uncertain terms. 'You're not playing with those bloody Beetles again. Get a job!' He ended up working at the Garston Bottle works as a fork lift driver for years."                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    Moore's career very nearly had a premature end when the band was involved in a car accident on a Scottish country road.                                                                       Johnny Gentle;” The van plunged into another car. Tommy ended up on top of Lennon who was sitting beside him, asleep. They both ended up under the dashboard, Tommy had knocked both his front teeth out and had to go to hospital. Whilst lying in the hospital bed, Lennon kept telling him, 'get up, we're on stage tonight!' He made it, and sat at the back playing the drums with his teeth missing and a handkerchief on hand to keep dabbing the blood. No wonder he quit when they got home!" Gentle and the boys went their separate ways at the end of the week, but not before Johnny had given Parnes a glowing report on the band. "I'd phoned Larry a few times and told him he'd better get up to Scotland to sign these boys up. They were getting a far better response to what I was getting. They had so much belief in themselves. I think they knew that somehow they were going places. Larry Parnes said he just didn't have the time."    
The car accident must have gave them a reality check, coming just a month after the fatal crash in Wiltshire that involved rock 'n' roll icon Eddie Cochran, who's Twenty Flight Rock had been the key in Paul McCartney passing the John Lennon Quarrymen audition. The American star had been a late addition to the Gene Vincent headlining Larry Parnes tour that began in January. Homesick and deciding to take a short break mid tour, by returning home to the States, Cochran was killed when the taxi he was travelling in to London Airport from Bristol, along with his girlfriend, songwriter Sharon Sheeley and Vincent, crashed into a tree after a tyre blew out. The first many people heard about it was on the Light Programme's Jack DeManio breakfast show. The news stunned the rock world. Brian Bennett, drummer with the Wildcats who backed Eddie and Gene on the tour, though they weren't employed for the Bristol gig recalled; "I received a phone call from Norman Riley, Eddie's European manager. I was shattered. Eddie was a fantastic guy, taught me some rock 'n' roll drums, he was more than an adept player as well as guitarist. He'd told me he was looking forward to returning to Britain later in the year and I was really excited about working with him again. It was a terrible tragedy."
One of the first on the scene of the crash was police cadet Dave Harman, who later became famous as Dave Dee with his group Dozy, Beaky, Mick and Tich. Dee; "I wasn't actually at it; we arrived after the crash had happened. We sussed that the incumbents of the car were musicians because there were guitars and gig things all over the road and in the car. We had to take everything back to the police station and I realised then that it was Eddie Cochran's Gretch guitar. I was a huge fan of both Eddie and Gene Vincent."
Cochran had been brought over on the suggestion of TV presenter Jack Good as the tour was going a bit slow. He immediately made a great impact. Vernon Girl Sheila Bruce; "I went to jelly when I saw him. He was a beautifully tanned blonde haired boy with a brown leather bomber jacket on, like the American air force, he looked fantastic. Gene Vincent was different. He frightened me; he was obviously a very sullen guy, a complex character and not one that anybody really got to know. He used to carry a gun. I was always worried about him."                                                                                                                                                                                        Hal Carter; "Gene Vincent used to carry a gun and a knife around with him, which he called Henry. He would say to people, 'Do you want to meet Henry?' and he would pull out his knife. He had a street-gang mentality and he terrorised the tour bus one night coming back from Ipswich. He ripped the bass player's suit and five of us jumped off at the lights in Romford, even though we lived in north London.
Joe Brown; "He was a bit of a loony, but I never saw him harm anybody. Great performer though. He was very funny; you never knew what he was going to do. He'd hit the chord of E, and gene would go 'Welll, and you'd see his eyes go blank! And you'd know he wasn't sure if he was going to sing Be Bop A Lula or The Road Is Rockin' - they all started the same!"                                                                                                                                                                                                                  The Wildcats, Marty's backing group, guitarist Big Jim Sullivan; "He came into the rehearsal room, opened his guitar case and got out his orange Gretch guitar and started playing some Chet Atkins stuff, then rock and roll, blues. We were all awe struck."
A press release hailed; 'An exciting teaming of two of America's leading young rock and roll stars has been achieved with the arrival in Britain of Eddie Cochran, who is scheduled to remain here for ten weeks. Cochran co stars with another U.S. Beat singer, Gene Vincent.' The tour also showcased British singer Vince Eager; "They were all one night stands, very rarely did we have a night off. We were hopping all over the place; it was one of Larry Parnes' typical tours. You could be in Plymouth one day, Glasgow the next day, then Southampton. To hell with the artists, they had to get on with it. We'd travel by coach, by train if the distance was too far. That was when we got more contact with Eddie and Gene as we'd go up to their car and get the guitars out. Eddie had a big influence on us."                                                                                                                                                   Guitarist Joe Brown; "They used to travel in the first class compartment; we were all stuffed in the back! The ticket collector would come round and sling us all back."                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  Cochran and Vincent also made two appearances on Boy Meets Girl which was hosted by Marty Wilde who was recently married and getting ready to head off to America on honeymoon.                                                                                                                                                                                                                     Big Jim Sullivan:” I told Marty that we, the Wildcats, had a chance to work with Eddie and Gene, and asked if he'd mind if we did it. We ended up playing virtually the whole of the remainder of the tour, including a slot on radio's Saturday Club." As the tour progressed, Eddie and Gene both grew more and more homesick and started hitting the bottle.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     Tour manager Hal Carter; "Gene used to drink all the time but Eddie, because he was homesick, he spent a fortune on phoning up his mum in America. He'd be on the phone for over an hour, two sometimes, on the hotel phone! And we never realised in those days that the hotel would charge you twice as much you would pay from a phone box. We had a situation at Leeds when Eddie was drunk as a Lord and we had to get him dressed, drive him to the theatre and take him into his dressing room. We gave him some black coffee, then laid him out on the floor and put a leather bag under his head for a pillow. He looked like he was dead on a slab! He was gone. We told the comedian to go on first and then we put the guitar round Eddie's neck, plugged it in to the amp, then when the mic came up through the floor on stage, we propped Eddie up against the mic for him to have something to hold on to so he wouldn't fall over!" The Leeds gig was also remembered for other reasons by Joe Brown;” Hal Carter used to organise the getaways after the gig, this night he was waiting with the car engine running, a big Humber it was, and he employed two guys to act as decoys to attract the fans in the opposite direction. For some reason the ploy failed and the fans spotted Gene and Eddie and raced after them. I climbed in the back alongside Eddie and Gene was in the front. Next thing, the fans have opened the door, screaming and yelling, Hal's revving the engine and all of a sudden, we're off. And Gene’s lost his pants! The kids had ripped them off! We were staying in a posh hotel in Leeds and we walked in with Gene in just his underpants, a leg iron and a dirty old tee-shirt!"
As the tour progressed, the Americans were getting more and more homesick, drinking more booze and Eddie in particular, confessed that he was missing his girlfriend, Sharon Sheeley, badly. It didn't help that the tour just happened to occur during the first anniversary of Cochran's old pal Buddy Holly's death, twelve months previously. Eddie even wrote a song for Buddy and his two partners in the plane crash, Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens. Titled Three Stars, it was a heart rendering tribute. Sinking more into the oblivion of Bourbon by the day, his depression still didn't lighten much when Sharon Sheeley came over from the States. Eddie decided to take a break and head home mid tour to see his family in Oklahoma at Easter. First though, was a gig tacked onto the end of the week at the Bristol Hippodrome. Actor Peter Bowles was present; "When the rock and roll stars came over here I used to go and see them whenever I could. I was appearing at the Old Vic when Eddie and Gene came over. I went to see the show which of course, turned out to be Eddie's last. When he came on, the stage was in complete darkness and the spotlight came on as the music started - but it was on his bum - he was wearing a pair of tight fitting red leather trousers, never seen before. And the spotlight was just on his bottom, gyrating. This was wicked. Sexy. The audience was screaming. The other thing I particularly remember about his performance was that at one point he said to the audience, 'I'm gonna do something I've never done before. I've never done this before and I'm gonna do it now. I'm a gonna do it for you. I'm gonna... I'm gonna...' And we all thought, my God, he's going to drop his trousers! And he said 'I'm a gonna..smile!' The audience went absolutely mad! Extraordinary!"                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   Transport to take Eddie, Gene and Sharon to the airport had been arranged for the following day but they decided to leave that night after the show. Hal Carter; "We'd been using the minicab all week and asked the driver what it'd cost to take them to Heathrow. He said he'd find out and get back to us but instead of going to his firm, he asked a friend of his to borrow him his car and came back and told us £25." The car set off with the three stars, Pat Tompkins the roadie and the driver. They reached the outskirts of Chippenham around midnight. The driver then took a wrong turning but quickly realised his mistake. Hal;” They’d tarmaced the road that day and it was all small pebble dusted. He's hit the brakes, and the back end has gone. The back end struck the kerb, the door's flown open, and Eddie's turned to protect Sharon and as he's put his arm across her he's gone forward and he's hit his head on the top of the car. Then he's caught the back of his head on the strut of the door as he's been thrown out onto the verge on the roadside." Dave Dee; "The driver and roadie were virtually unhurt but Eddie, Gene and Sharon were all lying on the grass injured. It was quite clear that Eddie was in a bad way. He and Sharon were taken away by ambulance. Eddie died next day." The news was received with great shock by friends and fans alike.

The Echoes and the Flashers 1977

Causing a riot at Corby Stardust centre was a band modelled on the Sex Pistols; the Flashers were an outfit booked by Arthur Pitcher with support from John Grimley's band The Echoes to cash in on the craze. John; "Myself, Maureen and Jimmy Gourlay, John Dolby and Tommy Chapman were asked by Arthur if we would back this spoof band for a few numbers. We agreed and several rehearsals later they said they would go for it. All was well until the night. The Evening Telegraph had given the show a lot of advertising, more of a send up really, and when we turned up on the night at the club there were about 200 punk rockers outside the building that had been turned away. Now to say they were unhappy is an understatement. The E.T. had done SUCH a good job it was backfiring in Pitchers face. He didn't know what to do, he didn't think it would go that far...but it did. The media had gone over the top with the hype and the build up, and when the band started wrecking things and winding everybody up, Arthur really was in a flap! We did the gig and it was a laugh, if not a tadge frightening at an earlier stage."
The Flashers milked the publicity for all it was worth. The 'exclusive' in the press told; ‘the band, Gary Gutrot, Sergeant Sadistic, Geriatric Punk and the weird singer Punkular are making their debut in Corby later this month, they stopped off in the town at the weekend to see Arthur Pitcher the leisure centre manager who had booked them. Arthur made it clear that any obscenities and expletives on stage would result in a possible ban from appearing at the venue in the future; "I have written to the group’s manager and warned him that I will stop their act outright if they step too far out of line, should I consider any part of their act offensive, no bad language will be acceptable. They really are pretty disgusting specimens but I've heard their music is good and that's why we've booked them."
The feature concluded by stating; 'The group were travelling to London from Manchester where a number of shows were cancelled because of their behaviour and although they have an extensive British tour lined up for early next year it is believed many towns will follow suit and ban them.'
During their performance the Flashers smashed speakers, wrecked chairs and broke glasses - terrifying many of the audience into the bargain. Arthur Pitcher, aided by a barman was forced to haul them off before their act led to a riot. Arthur was far from amused; "They were disgusting. This act was extremely violent and I warn all other clubs against booking them. Corby is just not ready for this sort of thing."
For all the mayhem it engineered, the show was later exposed as a fake. It was in fact, four Corby lads with a strong sense of humour, complete with oozing blood capsules and sick bags. Bar manager Eric McKenna was Sgt Sadistic, Club manager Robert Halfyard was Geriatric Punk, Corby Town FC goalkeeper Peter Walters was Punkular and club doorman Kevin Barby was Gary Gutrot, out to raise money for the Evening Telegraph Christmas Appeal. The audience didn't know it was a set up but dipped into their pockets when the Flashers asked them to buy safety pins.

Strictly 60s with the Rockin' Berries - Corby Sept 2013

They're In Town....The Rockin' Berries.

It's a pleasure to welcome back to Corby for the first time in a number of years, The Rockin' Berries. The last time they visited this oasis of entertainment in East Northamptonshire was way back in the 1970s when they appeared at the Stardust Centre in between a bingo session. At the time they joined an illustrious list of top artists who graced the Stardust stage, Del Shannon, PJ Proby, the Searchers amongst many others.

The origins of the Rockin' Berries go back to the late 1950’s when Brian “Chuck” Botfield and Geoff Turton met at school. Chuck later went to Moseley College of Art where he formed a skiffle group with fellow school-mate Tim Munns who played bass guitar along with guitarist Bob Bates, drummer Barry Taylor and piano player Christine Perfect who would become a well known blues singer and eventually Christine McVie of Chicken Shack and Fleetwood Mac fame. Originally called The Bobcats they changed the name to The Rockin’ Berries in homage to their idol Chuck Berry.

Throughout the years the personnel of the band has undergone numerous changes though a constant has been maintained with original members Chuck Botfield and Geoff Turton still in the line up today.
During 1959 the first incarnation of the Berries was folding and a group being put together by singer Paul Hewitt and guitarist Doug Thompson who both worked at the Austin Motors along with drummer Terry Bond and bass guitarist Mark Johnson invited Chuck to join. Chuck agreed providing that the new group would also call themselves The Rockin’ Berries. Doug Thompson made a deal with the owners of the disused Palace Theatre in Redditch that The Rockin’ Berries would play there and keep the door takings in return for cleaning the place up. The arrangement proved so successful that the Rockin’ Berries played there regularly along with many other local groups.

In November 1961 the Rockin’ Berries, now featuring two singers with Jimmy Powell alongside Paul Hewitt, were offered bookings in Germany but Hewitt didn't want to go so Clive Lea, who had won the 'Elvis of the Midlands' contest joined the group as his replacement.

On returning from Germany, the band was auditioned by TV pop music promoter Jack Goode who was scouting for the Decca Record Company. The group failed to secure a contract but Goode showed interest in signing singer Jimmy Powell. The Berries returned for another engagement in Germany and were offered an extension to stay longer but the group was divided over the prospect. The outcome was that Doug Thompson, Dennis Ryland and Jimmy Powell returned to Birmingham leaving the others to carry on in Germany. Powell took up Jack Goode’s offer of a recording contract and became the first 'Brumbeat' recording star in 1962.

Needing a replacement vocalist Chuck Botfield remembered that his former school friend Geoff Turton was playing guitar in a group in Birmingham called the Swinging Chimes. When contacted Geoff agreed to join the Berries in Germany and it was soon discovered that Geoff also possessed a unique falsetto vocal style that was used by the group to their advantage when performing songs such as Frank Ifield’s I Remember You and Sherry by the Four Seasons. The group was unusual in that it had two lead vocalists in Clive Lea and Geoff Turton.

The long hours playing in the Hamburg clubs is where the Berries honed their comedy routine which was to become their hallmark. A trick learned from a host of Liverpool groups who also had to find a way of dragging out their repertoire.

Back home in Blighty the band was contacted by Decca Records who had been sent a demonstration tape and the Rockin’ Berries were signed up and went to London to record two singles, the second, Itty Bitty Pieces got them a TV appearance on Ready Steady Go! The publicity generated increased their following and the group refined their stage shows by introducing comedy which included impersonations from Clive Lea. After a year they dissolved their deal with Decca and were signed up to the Pye subsidiary Piccadilly by talent scout John Schroeder who also became their manager. Their first release, I Didn’t Mean To Hurt You featured Geoff Turton’s distinctive falsetto vocal which became a band trademark.

Playing at London’s Marquee Club The Rockin’ Berries were seen by American record producer Kim Fowley who was sufficiently impressed to decide that they should record a song written by famous composers Goffin & King called He’s In Town. The record was released as a single in October of 1964 and went to No. 3 in the charts.

Always Something There To Remind Me (appropriately) was number one at the time and I recall going up the town with my friend Dick Dighton who was drummer with Corby band The Zeros, to buy a single with our pocket money from Record Rendezvous. A weekly treat then! As was the way, that were many great records to choose from and we were undecided on which one we going to spend our 6/4d on. The Stones' Little Red Rooster was my choice and I still smile when I think of Dick asking the shop assistant Joyce for Um 6 by Wayne Fontana and the Mindbenders. It was easier than trying to say Um Um Um Um Um Um! I think Joyce thought we were taking the pee at first! As a matter of fact, my friend at school at the time, Roy Hemmings who later became well known in Corby working for and then part owner of the town's leading hardware shop L.W. Hemmings, bought the Rockin' Berries record. I remember this because I swapped it for an Elvis record later on, my brother Robert's, who went crazy and wanted to batter me!

The 'Package' Tour was a regular gig in the 1960s and the Berries soon found themselves on the tour bus accompanied by Bill Haley and the Comets, Gene Pitney, Marianne Faithfull. Playing to packed audiences all round the country at the ABC and Granada cinemas.

The follow up to He's In Town, What In The World’s Come Over You was not quite as successful but the next single Poor Man’s Son featuring a lead vocal from Clive Lea again made the top ten in May of 1965. An album entitled In Town was released in 1964. The Rockin' Berries were signed up with the Capable Managements Agency, London who looked after the affairs of Irish hit makers Them, the Sorrows and Corby's Size Seven, who had released their own single Crying My Heart Out. Typically for the time, the Size Seven were booked for a 'photo shoot' for a pop magazine in London to boost their publicity. A task they found rather embarrassing. As guitarist Billy Geary recalled; "We were hanging from lampposts with people walking past thinking we were mental!"

As the hits became fewer, the Berries concentrated on a career in cabaret which included comedy routines featuring Clive Lea’s impersonations of Norman Wisdom and George Formby. By the time of the Rockin’ Berries last hit The Water Is Over My Head in 1966 the pop scene had changed and the era of the beat groups was over. The band was now one of the UK’s top cabaret acts and was heavily in demand for bookings all over the country. One of the more notable engagements for the group took place when they were invited to perform at 1967’s Royal Variety Performance attended by The Queen and Prince Phillip. The band also featured on Engelbert Humperdinck's winter 1967 tour and famously took over as top of the bill at the Portsmouth Guildhall when the velvet voiced one's vocal chords finally gave out. The Berries' mix of music and comedy went down well on the tour and they made new friends and secured some high prestige work.

In 1968 Geoff Turton left the band. Singer/impressionist Terry Webster joined the Rockin’ Berries in 1970 to replace Clive Lea who left to start a solo career as an impressionist and later joined local comedy group The Black Abbotts as the replacement for Russ Abbott. The remainder of The Rockin’ Berries continued to perform in cabaret as a music/comedy act although drummer Terry Bond later moved into management and was replaced by Keith Smart, previously from Roy Wood’s chart-topping group Wizzard.
Despite numerous other personnel changes which include Geoff Turton rejoining the band, The Rockin’ Berries along with another remaining original member Chuck Botfield still perform regularly across the UK and Europe as a four piece Comedy Show Band.
Completing the line up is Simon Ryland on drums who joined the band in 1998 after a five year stint with the 70's pop band Racey and Jay McGee who joined in 2000. Jay is responsible for many impressions, gags, vocals and general slapstick comedy.

The Rockin' Berries continue to be a popular attraction on the cabaret and nostalgia circuit to this day.
   

           
  It Wasn't Strictly Sixties....Of Course......

It's everyone to their own generation they say.  So as far as I'm concerned, the 1960s was undoubtedly the best time to be a teenager. Freedom to go where you want, do what you wanted, very little restraint. We weren't bogged down with Health and Safety, political correctness. We climbed trees without fear, made bogies out of old prams and raced down hills, swam in dangerous watering holes like the Clayholes, made bows and arrows, catapults. And most of us are still here! The 'baby boomers' were being liberated. National Service had been abolished for starters! Work was plentiful, cash in your pocket, fashion was exploding out of its cocoon, and we won't mention the Pill! The soundtrack to all this boomed out of the Jukebox. A wonderful innovation that filled the coffee bars and cafes with all the current top selling singles, the 45s. Magical time, a Magical Mystery Tour throughout the decade.
Rock and Roll was the catalyst for change in the music industry, as John Lennon said; 'Before Elvis there was nothing'. As we left the 1950s behind, Adam Faith was asking What Do You Want? the first number one of the decade. John Peel put it more succinctly, 'In 1960 British pop was in a critical condition. Rock and Roll had been given a suit and tie and invited on to the variety circuit.'
True, for a couple of years we had to put up with Anne Shelton and the Temperance Seven topping the charts but there was still the Everly Brothers, the Shadows and one hit wonders like John Leyton's Johnny Remember Me to thrill us. Aged 11 I can still remember sitting in the Crows Nest mesmerised by the jukebox. Eden Kane's Well I Ask You was echoing out of the machine. That's what music does to you. Well it used to! Back then we were given 2/- pocket money every week. Singles were 6/3d which meant you had to save up for a few weeks to buy a record. That two bob still had to stretch out to buy the Beano, a packet of Spangles and a gobstopper. Ask anyone of the 60s generation what was the first record they bought and they will tell you almost immediately. Mine was Why by Anthony Newley. Love struck at aged 10! Saved up for three weeks to get that! Must have been around my birthday also I reckon - a few extra shillings in my cards! Corby's record shop was originally called BBS, later Record Rendezvous, in the Market Square. A veritable wonderland with record booths along the wall to listen to a record before deciding if you wanted to buy it. Or if you couldn't make your mind up. During those pre Beatles days I had the pleasure for a quite a while, of going up the town every week with money from my mum to buy a record. Whilst dreaming of obtaining Bobby Vee's or Del Shannon's latest, I was instructed to get Ferranti and Teicher's Exodus, Shirley Bassey's latest offering. What a let down! It still gave me the chance to loiter around in Record Rendezvous though. Occasionally mum would go mad and purchase a record on a day out somewhere, to Peterborough to visit my sister Barbara, and buy an extra record, from Woolworths. Not the genuine article though, one of those cheap ones recorded by non descript artists on the Embassy label! Awful!! The odd excursion for myself during this barren time saw me include Emile Ford's Counting Teardrops to my collection before finally, with the help pf a paper round, I could buy what I wanted. I recall my mind being in turmoil over whether to get Billy J. Kramer's Do You Want To Know A Secret, or the Searchers Sweets For My Sweet. In the end I bought them both. Of course it was the arrival of the Beatles that changed everything. Attitudes, fashion, music. Opened up a whole new world. And we never looked back.
45s are like a time machine, instantly transporting you back to a moment buried in your memory. Even the record labels had their own identity, Parlophone was green, Decca was orange, blue and white, Pye was pink. Extra care was taken to look after them, careful they didn't get torn, or even worse, the record itself getting scratched. Not everyone was as mad as most of us it has to be said. My best pal John 'Wilf' Wilson irritated me relentlessly. Having lent him a Simon and Garfunkel album one time, I was enraged when I went round for him one night, and saw his dog lying all over the record in front of the fire! The cover and inner sleeve were both missing as well. I went bananas! What did Wilf say? 'You're panicking' - a flippant throwaway remark we used to often say to each other at the time!
Suffice to say the blighter never borrowed another record off me.
Music played a massive part in our lives, inspiring many of us to form our own bands, not me; I couldn't and still can't play a note on a guitar, piano, mouth organ. Not for the want of trying though. It was said in the 60s that Corby had more beat groups than any other town of equivalent size than any other in the country. The names trip off the tongue. The Hepcats, Size Seven, Midnighters, Crusaders, Strangers, Drumbeats, the Formula, Phantoms, Electrons, Invaders, Rising Sons, Friction, Pacifics. That only covers the first half of the decade.
Record collecting became irresistable, record racks essential, bands would learn their songs by stopping and starting the needle during practise sessions. Painstaking but great fun it must have been. It all bred a lifelong passion. None more so than for Bip Wetherell who began life as a vocalist with the Pacifics, later the Friction, Rhubarb Tree, Granite, Tornados, White Plains. He's still going strong, as you will see tonight, fronting the Telstars.
Everyone to their own generation I was told when complaining one night on the door at a Corby Rugby Club disco in the late 70s. Punk music had come along and smacked us all in the mouth. I thought it was garbage. It couldn't compare to our time, could it?

   

Corby Rock Legends - The Mick Ferguson Story

Mick Plugs the Gap! 1987 was the year probably best remembered for a series of disasters. The sinking of the cross-channel ferry, MS Herald of Free Enterprise, the Hungerford massacre, the Kings Cross Underground fire which killed 31 people. The Archbishop of Canterbury's envoy, Terry Waite kidnapped in Lebanon where he would remain hostage until 1991. Golliwogs banned from Enid Blyton books following complaints that golliwogs were offensive. Margaret Thatcher was re-elected in June, making her the longest continuously serving Prime Minister since Lord Liverpool in the early 19th century. On the weather front the year would end with hurricane winds battering southern England, making a mug of the BBC's weather forecaster Michael Fish's observation that there was nothing to worry about. 13 people died and dozens were injured, mostly by falling trees and buildings. Rescue workers faced an unprecedented number of call-outs as winds hit 94 mph in London and over 110 mph in the Channel Islands. Houses and apartments had their roofs blown off. On the Isle of Wight the famous Shanklin Pier, nearly a century old, was reduced to driftwood and in Jaywick, Essex, a caravan park was flattened. 'Eel have to go!' was the general consensus. Was it any wonder then that when Mick Ferguson received a phone call late one night in November, he jumped at the chance of getting away from it all, including his wife, "she hindered my career, every time I went out she did nothing but moan", to take a three week working holiday in Dubai? Mick, affectionately known as 'Plug', was one of Corby's most popular and sought after musicians, his prowess on keyboards and accordion regularly seeing him called on at short notice to 'dep' in any number of bands. The phone call came from drummer Pete Buckby of the recently defunct Canned Rock. Mick; "I was tucked up in bed when I received the call from Pete. Must have been around 1.30 in the morning! The phone was above my head and initially I was speaking through the wrong end! 'Speak up' I said, 'I can't hear you.' Then I realised it was the wrong way round. 'Listen' he said, 'I want an answer right away. No ifs or buts, it’s yes or no. I need to know one way or another right now. How do you fancy a 16 day trip to Dubai to play three gigs over New Year?' I didn't have a clue where Dubai was. Might have been next to Mablethorpe for all I knew! It turned out that Pete had been contacted by his old Canned Rock buddy Don Maxwell who had been asked if he could put a band together." How did Mick's wife receive the news? "She was lying next to me in bed when I was having this conversation. She told me that if I went through the door and off to Dubai, I needn't come back. So I went!" She did have the last word though. By the time Mick returned home, she'd cleared the house out and gone. It was a cold and miserable Gatwick Airport on December 28th when Mick, Pete, Don Maxwell and guitarist Derek Cowie headed off to the Middle East. Derek remembers an eventful flight. "We were sitting at the back of the plane having a sing song when some people ahead of us started grumbling. It wasn't as if we were having a party or something! They'd probably been reading too many stories in the papers about Led Zeppelin and rock stars getting bladdered on flights. Mick decided to go and have a word with them. When he returned he told us he'd been talking to the owner of the aircraft! 'Yeah! Right!' I said, 'what would the owner of the plane be doing sitting at the back with everybody else!' Mick said he'd asked the feller if he could go into the cockpit when we were coming into land so he could video it. Apparently he said 'no problem'. " Mick; "A guy had complained to the stewardess about the noise we were making so I went to apologise to him. I said 'look can I get you a drink?' 'A vodka and coke' he said. I told the stewardess to make it a double. When he finished that I got him another one. By the time we had finished having a chat and he'd knocked back about four or five vodkas, he thought I was great bloke! He'd forgotten that the drinks on the aircraft were free! Regarding the video, I asked the stewardess if it was possible to visit the cockpit and she arranged it. The pilot was an American, a nice guy. I told him we both had something in common and when he asked what that might be; I told him that I could fly aircraft as well. Gliders. He showed me all the controls, lights, everything. One hell of a dashboard! He told me to get my video, sit next to the window but when we began the descent, everybody had to be quiet, no talking. I put the video on my shoulder and one of my headphones over the mic to capture all the requests and orders from flight control. It was amazing. You could see the lights on the runway from about six miles. Tremendous experience which since the Twin Towers disaster on 9/11 would be impossible to do now." Derek; "We kicked the trip off with a gig on New Years Eve for all the ex pats in Jebu Ali. Followed by one night at the International Seaman's centre and then three nights later we played in the poorer quarters for people who worked in the port. Filipinos, Indians, the ethnic community. It was a real eye opener. We were the only white people there. The people were great though, really enjoyed themselves and made us feel really welcome. The Dubai trip was such a success we did it for the next three years. The flights were paid for, as was a chalet/villa for each of us. The equipment was all there for us too. We took our own guitars and Pete took his sticks and cymbals. All we had to pay for was the food and drink. And we were paid well over a grand for the pleasure! One day we were sitting in a restaurant discussing the idea of hiring a car to do some sight seeing when a feller overheard us and came over. He told us not to bother and if we were serious he'd sort one out for us and have it at our door at 7.30 the next morning. True to his word, he dropped off a brand new Range Rover! We were taken aback, 'bit heavy on the petrol' was my first thought. Chipping in about a fiver each to get petrol, we were even more amazed when a fiver filled the tank up! It was only about 33p a gallon!" Mick; "We played on a Russian hospital ship which was weird. Only one person on board could speak English. He was also the bass player with the ship's band. We used their gear and played for around three quarters of an hour. Then the Russian band did their spot and the bass player paid tribute to us by dedicating an Elton John song to us. It was Nikita. Sung in English by Russians who didn't have a clue what they were singing! That was strange. Though not half as much as that of a barmaid I had my eye on! I told Derek that before the end of the night, I'd be off with her. I bought her drinks, chatted her up and then she opened her mouth. It was full of gold teeth! We called her Klondike Kate after that." "That first trip was when we encountered our compatriots from Corby, Energy. Their drummer Chris Page asked me to do him a favour by taking £450 home to give to his wife. It was easier and cheaper than telexing it which would have cost him around £30. Good job he trusted me!" Mick Ferguson's career began somewhat fortuitously with a first gig at the George Inn, Cottingham. Two weeks prior to this Mick and his pal Angus McKay had gone to the George on their Lambretta scooters and were parked outside in the car park revving up when the Landlord Butch Lenton came out and chased them! Mick; "Next time we went down there, we left the scooters parked at the top of the road. At the time there was an upright piano in the pub and I asked Butch, who didn't realise we were the two guys he had chased, if it was alright if I had a tinker on it. 'Sure' he said and I must have impressed him as he asked me if I fancied playing regularly for him on Saturday nights. £3 a night. The George was only small pub, forty or fifty punters in there and it was jam packed. My dad James, who played the accordion, joined us and we soon built up a repertoire and crack. We'd ask what they wanted us to play, I'd find the key and that was it. They were great nights and Butch was more than happy. Two years we did this. I loved it and began to think about the possibility of playing in a band, something I really fancied but not sure on how to go about achieving it. Until I spotted an advert in the local paper's music column. A band with the unlikely name of Andreas and the Quantros were looking for an accordion player, with the aside that 'vocals would be an asset, but not essential.' I'd never actually sung before but I took the bull by the horns and phoned the Kettering number to arrange an audition. Nervous as hell, I rode over on my Lambretta with the accordion in my sidecar. I don't know what they thought when I turned up in that, probably thought I was a right geek! 'Come in' Brian Turner said, all the band were there, his brother Graham also, I was introduced and then asked if I could play a certain number, then another one. This went on for about twenty minutes, I was sweating buckets by this time, my nerves were getting the better of me, the heat in the room was getting over bearable, and then I passed out! Collapsed on the floor. Next thing I know, they're picking me up as I'm coming round, and saying, 'you've got the job!'" Rehearsals were held every Tuesday at Kettering Working Men's Club, running through numbers that were popular in the charts and because none of the other guys were keen on singing, I was thrown in at the deep end and the very first song I sang was Don McLean's Vincent. I realised straight away this is what I wanted to be." Mick made his debut as a Quantro in January 1974, at the Ex Serviceman's Club in Lloyds Road, Corby where the band was resident every Saturday and Sunday nights. Mick; "The club was packed out every weekend and after breaking my duck as a live vocalist my confidence shot through the roof. There was a novelty number by Little Jimmy Osmond called Long Haired Lover from Liverpool which I did. It was a piss take really, I'd sing the first half of the number normally then switch to a high pitched falsetto to finish it off. It brought the house down every time. Then at the end of May, a record came out by a band called The Rubettes which went all the way to number one, Sugar Baby Love. Graham Turner got hold of the sheet music; we learnt it and tried it out at the Old Legion. The song was so high I had to hit top G in falsetto to accomplish it. The reaction at the end of that first attempt was unbelievable. It was embarrassing! The whole crowd went nuts, standing on chairs, applauding, whistling, cheering. I couldn't understand what the fuss was about. Never seen anything like it. They wouldn't shut up until we did it again. Whether they thought it was a fluke I don't know! It's when I really burst on the scene!!" A nice anecdote to this is a signed photograph from the Rubettes which takes pride of place in Mick's lounge, "it says, 'I did it first! To Plug, Mick Ferguson, from the boys in the Rubettes.' The Quantros split up in 1977, "the guys just got fed up gigging and called it a day, guess they wanted to settle down to a normal life". Mick wasn't at a loose end for long, a showband featuring some of Corby's most endurable musicians, the Roy Bishop Sound, came calling. The band included two former Size Seven members Billy and Jimmy Geary; both had been around since the skiffle days of the mid fifties. The others were Paul James on organ, Roy on sax and Mark Plant on bass guitar. In 1980, at the time of the steelworks closure, Mick, then working in Glebe Coke Ovens, took up an offer from his mate Derek Cowie to join a band he was putting together for a showcase gig in the Isle of Wight. The others recruited were bass player Jack Murphy, also on the redundancy list, from E.N.Wright's, Reggy Knowles on keyboards, drummer John Donovan and guitarist Chris Beesley. The band, called Kez, received great reviews including this from The Isle of Wight News. 'Kez play chart material, waltzes, quicksteps and present a delightfully mixed bag that included Feelings, Music, Love of My Life, Cavatina (Deer Hunter Theme), Star Wars. In Mick Ferguson they possess a singer of immense talent and class. Seldom have I ever seen such emotion from a group singer as he produced from Maurice Albert's gorgeous song Feelings. The tears were streaming down his face. Pop singing at its best. (Though as Jack Murphy was later to remark - tears? that wasn't tears, it was sweat!) At present, Kez are only a semi pro outfit but in March, three of them, who are redundant steelworkers, hope to go full time. The lads revealed they'd love a summer season on the island, the only problem as far as I can see is where they would play. They seem ideal for establishments like Keats Inn but there aren't too many of them dotted around. Any of the big holiday camps would also be very suitable. Most of the band has been fully professional in the past, in different outfits, and some have worked on the continent. I certainly hope they summer on the island. If they do, I am certain they will also attract a huge local following.' A summer season was secured, but at a Pontins Holiday Camp on the south coast, which in the wake of the steel closure was welcome news. Mick; "Playing six nights a week and four dinnertimes, we were paid £460 a week, roughly £115 each and we had to pay £22 each for a chalet out of it." The job took its toll though as Mick recalled; "Reggy and Chris both decided to leave, Bob Grimley replaced Derek and then two weeks into the season, Big Jack threw in the towel! Temporarily in the lurch, I put an advertisement in the Melody Maker for a bass player and a guy from Bristol applied. As he didn't have the means of getting to Pontins I drove down there, a 450 mile round trip, to pick him up. I should have saved my time, the bloke was awful! That bad I wished a big hole would open up on stage so we could disappear! I took him back and told him, 'don't call us'. When I got back I was told a feller from Chester was on his way down to audition. Owen Ricketts was his name. And he was brilliant! Great player and a nice feller." "We had a great time socialising with the punters. Getting rat-arsed! Bob locked himself out of his chalet one night, we each had our own in a two tier block, and he made a terrible racket trying to get in. Woke everyone up, this was about half three in the morning. His chalet was on the left down this corridor and after trying to barge his way in, decided to lean back against the door behind him and push his door with his foot. Well, all hell was then let loose as he the door he was leaning on crashed open and Bob went sprawling into this chambermaid's bedroom! The girl was terrified! I also became friendly with a couple who lived in Essex and invited me over for a break whenever I had the time. Which I accepted. Funny thing was, whenever I went over there, the husband was always away! He didn't seem to mind though! At the end of the summer season we called it a day, finished on the spot. Owen went back to Chester and was never seen or heard of since. The rest of us went home to Corby to pick up from where we had left off. Redundant. I was given a couple of options on our return to Corby, one was to rejoin the Roy Bishop band and the other was an offer from a Peterborough showband. It was then my old mate Derek Cowie contacted me with a proposal - to help him form a band to be called New Horizon." But that's another story.........

The Disc May 2nd 1964

Rock 'n' Roll Archive - The Disc May 1964 1964 was the year when the term Beatlemania was coined. The Liverpool boys had their rivals though and heading the list were London's Rolling Stones. They've been called everything from great to outrageous. Now Disc tells you what the Rolling Stones are really like. The Stones were the main feature with a full page photograph on the cover and a double page feature inside. Keith; 'People think we’re wild and unruly. But it isn't true. I'm not a great raver by any means.' Mick; 'I hate petty people. I'm not over fond of being hungry either. Particularly when we're travelling and the only place to eat is a transport cafe' Bill; 'Thing I hate most about playing one-nighters is the fact that I don't get home till three or four in the morning. It's all grey dawn and cold and horrible and I'm tired. The playing is great it's the aftermath ad driving miles home.' Brian; 'A two tone Humber hawk is my favourite possession but the trouble is, I can't leave it outside the flat or theatre and in a way, it's an awful lot of trouble.' Charlie; 'I can't drive and don't particularly want to learn at the moment. I could change my mind in a couple of weeks though.' The Beatles were working on their very own TV Special with producer Jack Good. 'It has been a terrific thrill to work with them' Jack said while stating he is convinced the boys are the natural successors to the Crazy Gang. 'Take the Shakespearean sketch; the Beatles are acting a six minute sketch in full costume from A Midsummer’s Night Dream with Paul a Bottom, George as Moonshine, John as Thisbe and Ringo as the Lion. Thing is when they first saw the script they didn't like it. Thought it just wasn't funny. I had a hard job persuading them to do it. I was amazed at how quickly they picked it up and learnt their lines. At the start of the show they wear herald’s costumes to play a fanfare on the trumpets. They all had their costumes on and once they got hold of the trumpets it was riotous. All four of them started busking Cant Buy Me Love - it sounded like a street band down on the Shaftesbury Avenue!' Away from the stage Ringo was rumoured to be engaged to Dusty Springfield! This apparently was doing the rounds when Dusty arrived in the Hawaiian Islands where Dusty arrived for a few days holiday. The islands were buzzing with the news. If that left Ringo bemused, in America news was breaking that he was engaged to actress Ann-Margret! Disc wrote 'Ridiculous American publicity reaches new heights of absurdity with Hollywood claiming the song Anna on the Beatles' debut LP is dedicated to her! Top of the charts for this week were The Searchers with Don’t Throw Your Love Away. with the Bachelors on their tails at number two with I Believe. New releases included a Tommy Quickly record titled aptly, You Might As Well Forget Him. Interestingly from other music papers Disc included the top ten charts from other countries. Top in Spain was If I Had A Hammer by Trini Lopez, In Holland it was Vous Permettez Monsieur by Adamo and Norway's number one was La Meg Vaere Ung by Wenche Myhre. Gerry Marsden says he's been flying around that much, every time he sees a plane his elbow starts flapping! His brother Fred hates flying as Gerry reveals 'he just sits there very quietly when we're taking off and looks straight ahead. All the way until we land. Then he looks pleased - and surprised. The Letters page included a couple of interesting observations;' surely its time your readers realised what a 'gimmick' is? wrote R.F. Mattews, 84 Gofenton Drive, Oldbury Court, Fishponds, Bristol. ‘It seems obvious to me that a 'gimmick' is something used by artists to attract attention to their act and should be something easily removed by an artist on leaving the stage. Johnny Kidd and the Pirates with their pirate rig have a 'gimmick' but to say that the Rolling Stones' long hair is a gimmick is rubbish, since they don't remove their hair off stage!' C.Redmond, Northfield, Birmingham wrote; 'The great raving rocker Jerry Lee Lewis has shaken, bopped, and battered his way round England leaving a trail of lifeless pianos and breathless fans. Anyone who has seen his act must agree when I say it's now time for a welcome chart comeback.' Also happening this week.... This same week around the globe there was news of a £500 ransom demand for the return of the head of the Little Mermaid statue in Copenhagen made to Danish newspaper BT. The paper's response was 'we don't know if the ransom is genuine or nonsense but we have forwarded the letter to the Copenhagen Homicide Squad as you would have expected, but if you don't want to talk to the police you may call us by telephone.' The head was severed in April and the police believe the job of cutting the head off was done in stages over several days. The headless statue is now in the workshops of the Royal Danish bronze foundries where a new head is being made. The well known tourist attraction was made by sculptor Edvard Eriksen in 1912 and placed by the waterside of the Copenhagen harbour in 1913. Britain's obsession with the weather was illustrated with over 500,000 telephone calls between October and April from people wanting to know if it was going to piss down. Two men walked into the Turkish Baths in Jermyn Street, Piccadilly, London, snatched the spectacles off the desk attendant and then robbed his till of £76. On television this weekend was a 90 minute Big Beat Show on Midlands TV starring Cliff Richard and the Shadows, Dave Clark Five and many more. Sunday Night at the London Palladium boasted the Dallas Boys, Lena Horne and comedian Don Arrol. As well as the regular 15 minute Beat the Clock game which gave compere the idea for his later huge success with the Generation Game. Z Cars, The Flying Doctor and Armchair Theatre provided this weekend's drama. A brand new Volkswagen 1200, advertised 'this is the car that asks to be abused, only then you will appreciate its durability and longevity'. Yours for only £625. The Austin Mini would have set you back £493 while if a Triumph Herald 1200 was your fancy, this was on sale for £579.7s.1d. How they came to adding 7/1d is anybody's guess! After you've bought a brand new car you may have wanted to smarten yourself up with the latest 'you can't beat style' suit from Burton's Tailoring at the cost of £11.19s 6d. Greville Wynn the businessman arrested in Russia in 1963 admitted to the Gordon Hospital, Westminster suffering with 'a disturbed mental state'. He was said to be making good progress. 'What's On Around the local Clubs and Pubs.' Kettering Windmill Club has Reg on the organ. The Working Mens Club in Wellington Street had Otto on the organ with Albert the compere. Town Band advertised a Free and Easy Night with Baz, Ray & Dodie. Ye Dun Cow, Wellingborough had Sing with Madge at the piano while The Globe Inn over at Raunds had Florence on piano and Bert on drums.

1973 Marty Wilde about Alas Jon Smith

Two brothers who had paid their dues were twins Mick and Tony Haselip of Weldon. Tony had originally replaced Rhubarb Tree bound guitarist Graham Henderson in the Pacifics in 1966 before forming Magnetic Storm with his bass playing brother Mick. After a brief affair with the Lykes of Witch, they were now together and turning pro with another set of brothers, Stuart and Jimmy Irving and Kettering drummer Steve Short under the name of Alas Jon Smith, embarking on a tour of United States army bases in Germany beginning at Wildflecken in Bavaria. The base was originally a training centre for the Wehrmacht, the German Army 1937-39, and now a military training camp used by all NATO partners. One of its most famous residents was Elvis Presley back in 1958. Tony; 'Mick, Stuart and myself all completed apprenticeships with British Steel Corby before going to Germany with Alias John Smith. It was our first job as professional musicians, it said so on our passports and we were proud, but as events unfolded it turned out to be a real eye opener. It seems unbelievable now but we had to play 5 x 45 minute sets each night and we were working 6 nights a week. We were always broke, the deal was that we got paid 25% of our wages + expenses out in Germany and the 75% balance was sent back to the UK for safe keeping, we were told that this was the only way to avoid paying tax in both countries. It seemed logical at the time and we gave it no more thought. Later on, after returning to the UK we had another adventure trying to trace our money, we went to see the agent Harry Goldblatt (honest it’s true) in Bournemouth, but he had disappeared. We never did get the dosh, but that’s another story. I remember on one occasion shortly after arriving in Germany we played at a US base (pre re-unification) at Wildfleken on the border between East and West Germany. It was where the Americans had their crack ski-troops, just in case the Russians decided to attack across the mountains. It wasn’t only the war that was cold; it was the middle of winter with temperatures down to -20c. We got to the base easily enough, but that evening the snow was relentless and at about 8pm the guardroom told us that the main Autobahn was closed. The Officer in charge of entertainment kindly offered to put us up in the sergeant’s quarters, a decision which he was later going to regret. They were basic amenities a bunk and a sink but we had little choice and gratefully accepted his hospitality. That night the club was packed, a captive crowd as there was nowhere else to go, we finished as normal at about midnight and it was then that the CO suggested a game of poker, the deal being that if we lost we played a song and if he lost he bought a round of drinks, that went on until about 3am, we stopped when the drummer Steve Short fell off his drum stool, we were all totally bladdered. The kindly Officer then offered us a lift to quarters in his 2 cars, he had a 4x4 pickup and a gleaming Cadillac saloon, both cars were parked outside the club at the bottom of a small hill, we helped him to ‘gently’ clear away the snow so that he could show off the paintwork, he told us the story of how he had managed to con the Army and got them to fly them both out from his hometown in Texas, they were his pride and joy. He drove the pickup with Stuart Irving and me sitting up front and his Sergeant drove the Cadillac with Mick, Steve and Jimmy checking out the drinks cabinet in the back. The road was total whiteout and so slippy that even the 4x4 struggled to get up the hill, his first attempt failed he slithered to a stop just short of the crest, so he reversed back down the hill, couldn’t stop and wrote off both his cars in one hit. I often wondered afterwards what his insurance company would have to say about that. Whilst in Germany we were based in the Hotel De France at Wiesbaden near Frankfurt, it was a good central location and most nights we managed to get ‘home’ to the hotel, but some gigs were too far away. On one occasion we played at a base in South Germany that was very close to the Swiss border. It was too far to travel back to Wiesbaden so during the evening we arranged to stay overnight in the officers lounge, the local hotels were much too expensive but fortunately one of the troops we met had a girlfriend that worked in a local hotel and he arranged for her to get us some bogus receipts, the agent paid us extra for overnight stops, nice one. We finished the gig, packed away the gear and settled down for the night in the Officers lounge. It was a large room with about seven sofas and a dozen armchairs. I got comfortable and quickly fell asleep. The next thing - I was abruptly woken and heard shouting and screaming, Stuart was dragging me off the sofa towards the door I could hear him saying ‘come on Tony be quick’, I shoved him away, ‘what’s going on?’ I was confused, I turned and saw two US marines both drunk, they were shouting something about smelly feet, one of them kicked the plate glass door which smashed into pieces I then noticed that they had guns and were pointing them at us. We legged it. Driving became more and more difficult the longer we stayed in Germany. The old Ford transit was struggling with the extra mileage and extreme temperatures; it wasn’t long before it took four of us to drive it. One person on the steering wheel, another with a piece of string connected to the carburetor (the accelerator cable had snapped), another on the windscreen wipers (the motor had packed in) and another de-misting the windows (the heater didn’t work). Still we had all that money waiting for us back home, we could buy new gear, take a holiday, it was nice to dream.' Steve did most of the driving down, he was more knackered than the rest of us. I remember traveling down an autobahn when Steve suddenly dozed off and veered over onto the other side of road, with a big artic Italian wagon coming the other way. Steve panicked, just in time! and avoided a collision but we ended up facing the wrong way. The lorry chased after us, with a wee Italian driver going nuts. It didn't help when Stuart Irving gave him the finger! He managed to hem us in and jumped out threatening like a wild man. We were crapping ourselves but Steve started backing up and we escaped from the scene! Crazy!' Alas Jon Smith survived their many escapades in Germany and on their return auditioned successfully for legendary British Rock 'n' Roll star Marty Wilde who was set for a tour with his mate Joe Brown. John Grimley, who had joined Alias a month into the German tour when Mick and Tony Haselip returned home, recalls their first meeting with Wilde. "We were actually auditioning for a Jersey gig at a place in Derby, which we lost out on but Marty's manager Hal Carter, a well known figure who counted the Kinks amongst his clientele, just happened to be there and invited us to audition for Marty. We traveled up to Hull for this, set our gear up and Marty asked us to play a rock and roll song, a ballad and a pop song while he walked around this big hall in his sheepskin listening to us. At the end he asked us, "Have you got any stage gear?” We showed him our suits and that sealed it. “I like your sound, you'll do for me." It was the start of a terrific few years for us, leading to a three year gig for me with ex Move bass player Ace Kefford. Strangely, Marty asked which one of us was Jon Smith. "None of us" I said. "Who's Jon then?" I told him my name was John and he replied, "Do you know what my real name is?" to which I said no. It's Reg Smith, call me Reg from now on!" “Our first rehearsal was at the Corby Bowling Alley, soon to become the Stardust Centre, where we ran through Marty’s hits Sea Of Love, Bad Boy, Teenager In Love etc. with me and Stuart providing the backing vocals. That was the day when Shafts opened its doors as the Exclusive Club and we were supposed to be playing along with Boot Z. Then all of a sudden, we were told we were making our debut with Marty that same night in Bedford at the Royal County Theatre Club as a late replacement for the Peddlars who called off because their drummer had fallen off his drum stool and fractured his arm!' Nevertheless, despite the short notice, the band received an encouraging report for its debut in the showbiz page of the Bedford Chronicle? 'It was memory lane once again at the cabaret presented by the RYTC when Marty Wilde came on stage and did his thing. His backing men are the Alas Jon Smith Group and they presented a few numbers on their own before the top of the bill. This group was a little slow starting but once they got into the swing of things were really quite good and interesting to watch, particularly their lead singer, a very versatile funny young man by the name of Stewart. It has been said about Marty,, and quite truthfully too, that the basis of nearly all pop music is rock and roll and listening to the big voice of Marty you could see why. It was a pleasure to see a male entertainer who didn't have a tiny wasp waist and dainty little black patent leather dancing shoes. He was a big man, full of masculine charm and he turned on more than one female in the audience. Marty and his group had a right old go at Blue Suede Shoes and a Red Indian chant that had to be heard to be believed. The bawdy Old Bazaar In Cairo was done with much wit and laughter all around. Many old hits made the rounds, among them Teenager In Love, Rubber Ball, Donna, Singing The Blues. There was a great deal of variety and one of the best numbers was Joni Mitchell's Woodstock. Very nicely done and the Jon Smith backing group really outdid themselves with it.' John; 'Next day, without Marty, we drove up to North Shield for a gig. That was a sign of things to come. We played two gigs a night for two weeks with Marty and then two weeks gigging without him. It was a hectic schedule playing venues such as the She Club in Liverpool and the following night a Working Men’s Club in Bristol. One week we played in Barrow In Furness and the next night in Welwyn Garden City! Two years of living out of a suitcase, some of the digs weren't particularly brilliant either. If you were booked into what they called 'theatre' digs, tbat was fine, you would get a breakfast at lunchtime. Even the sleeping arrangements were iffy at times. We played in South Wales a lot, Swansea sticks in my mind for a joke we played on Jimmy Irving. The landlady showed us our room and told us there was one double bed with nylon sheets, and two single beds, one with nylon sheets and the second with cotton. Jimmy immediately spoke up and said "I can't sleep under nylon sheets, I'm allergic to them, I'll have to have the single bed with cotton sheets. He then went to the bathroom - and we all jumped into the single bed with the cotton sheets before he came back. Just then, the door opened - and who should be standing there but the landlady! "Well I never!" she exclaimed in that lovely lilting Welsh voice, "what do we have here then?" She thought we were a bunch of queers!."No, you've got the wrong idea!" I said. Jimmy came back in, wondering what the hell was going on and we explained to the landlady it was all a bit of a laugh. She saw the funny side of it thankfully. It was in Swansea me and Steve Short had an altercation. We'd finished playing this club and had a few drinks. Steve was having a go at me about something or nothing and we ended up fighting each other! Marty intervened, just as the bouncers turned up and threw us all out. "I've never been thrown out of a club in my life!" Marty shouted. "You have now" I said. Normally a gig began with Alias Jon Smith playing a couple of numbers before Marty casually strolled on, walked up to the mic, say “Good evening” and then without looking, stretch his arm out behind him, where I would then pass him his Gibson semi acoustic and we'd go straight into Elvis's Burning Love. It was corny but good crack. One night, I passed him a cheap plastic Woolworth’s guitar! He took it all in good fun though! I’m glad he did for he was a big bloke! Ricky Valance, the one hit wonder star, (Tell Laura I Love Her) overstepped the mark one time, making a sarcastic remark about him on stage. When he came off Marty pinned him up against the dressing room wall by the throat, threatening to do him over. Probably the highlight was a short Rock ‘n’ Roll tour we did with Billy Fury, Billy J. Kramer and Heinz. Both Fury and Kramer were nervous wrecks, used to drink a bottle of whisky before going on stage. Joyce and his kids Ricky and Kim would often show up at gigs, this was long before Kim became a huge star! 11 year old Ricky was signed up by Jonathan King as a hopeful answer to Donny Osmond and we played on a few sessions with him for his album. We finished playing with Marty when we eventually got tired of being ripped off by his manager Hal Carter.