Chapter 2
THE APPRENTICESHIP
With the purchase of our two second-hand Red Burns electric guitars, we were surprised to find that our playing became much easier and more fun. The distance between the strings and the neck was reduced down to just a few millimetres, unlike our old guitars where the gap was measured in inches. This meant that not so much effort and pressure was required to hold down a chord. The benefit was that the chord sounded nice and sweet while the strings did not cut into our fingers. Coupled with this, Ginger had received a letter from his pen friend in America, informing him that his American guitar idol, James Burton, was stringing his guitar in a completely different way to most guitarists of the day. This was why it had been almost impossible for us to emulate the sound he was creating on record. He was using a banjo 1st as his 1st guitar string, and the guitar 1st string as his second and so on, finally throwing away the guitar 6th string as it was not required. It was also rumoured that sometimes he even used a banjo G-string in the 3rd guitar position. This enabled him to hold the chord down more easily and to be able to bend the strings with ease, sometimes pushing them halfway across the neck of the guitar, something we had all been struggling with in England for many years. At times, our strings had felt like number eight fencing wire, but we had persevered, not knowing anything different. However, armed with this information we were now being encouraged to purchase thinner strings, something that had never been contemplated before. Up until then the music shops of the day only offered a packet of a pre-selected strings. There were no singles strings leaving you with only 2 choices, take it or leave it. However, the music scene in England was slowly opening up and gradually items started arriving from America and Europe to fill the shelves of our local shops giving us a much wider choice.
The Vox AC15 amplifiers that we acquired with our Burns guitars were great and we felt as big and as good as Cliff Richard's backing band he Shadows, the group we were trying to emulate. We even perfected the Shadows special stage walk, as it became known, while playing covers of their songs. However, as with most bands, we all wanted to constantly keep turning up our amps, and so it was not long before we discovered that our newly acquired 15 watts was not quite loud enough for us.
The main reason we had purchased both the guitars and amplifiers was so that we could look and sound just like the Shadows on stage. Unfortunately, within a couple of weeks of us buying them, the Shadows suddenly appeared on a new ATV television show called "Oh Boy", playing American Fender guitars. We were all dumbfounded and had no idea why they had switched over. Somebody within the band made the wise crack that it was probably their old guitars that we had bought and so, with that in mind, that was what we told most of our fans that enquired where we had bought them.
It was also noticeable that on the very same Television show they were not using the Vox AC15 amps that everybody had gotten used to seeing them perform with. What they had on stage stacked up behind them looked larger in overall size, although they were still manufactured by Vox. In fact, they were using Vox AC30 amps with two 12-inch speakers, and we were devastated. It had come as a big shock to find out that they had changed over to Fender guitars, but it was an even bigger shock to discover that they were now using bigger and better amps. We all felt devastated and cheated, because we had spent all our money to achieve something that had just been snatched away from us. Now there was just no way that we could look and sound like The Shadows on stage and we had empty pockets to prove it.
Electrification also brought further problems for the band, in the form of where to plug our amplifiers in while on stage. Most of the village halls only had one electric plug and that was usually located in the furthest position possible away from the stage. Coupled with this, we had no electricians in the band, so it was usually a case of suck it and see. If we blew the fuse, we would have to work out how to replace it. We soon became experts in replacing the fuses with nails, pieces of fence wire and silver paper obtained from our cigarette packets. At first, we used to run very long electric leads across the dance floors to the only plug, which was usually positioned by the main entrance door. However, we were constantly being unplugged as the dancers got their feet all tangled up in the wire as it snaked its way towards the stage.
Above the stages was usually positioned one bare 40-watt bulb, 'Stage Lighting' I believe it was called in those days. Anyway, it was a power supply and nearer the stage and so we started plugging our amps into this socket. However, this meant that the stage was now in darkness and so we could not see what we were playing. Came the day when Billy turned up with a crude metal frame and attached a 100-watt bulb to its top. This was positioned near the door pointing towards the stage, thus inventing a stage spotlight. As it stood near the power point by the door, there was no need to run a long extension lead across the dance floor. With the bulb being several feet away from the stage, not much light arrived upon the band for us to see what we were doing. However, it did give the stage a dark seductive atmosphere that helped us portray a secretive image to the public. This was further heightened the day that Billy hung a piece of red coloured paper in front of the bulb. He had found it in a tin of sweets that he had pinched from his grandmother. Now we had a dark red, secretive look on the stage, and we were all pleased with the result, even though it sometimes affected our playing.
Billy also came up with a novel idea of making a strobe light to use on stage. Not only had he never seen one in action, he also had no idea how they worked. However, I agreed that if it turned out okay, then we would let him use it on stage. He got hold of a very small motor that he stole from his grandmother's radiogram, which he claimed she never listened to anyway and so she would not miss it. He screwed it to the top of a block of wood measuring about 9 inches square. To the front shaft of the motor he attached a rather large round cardboard disc that must had been about 14 inches in diameter. In this he cut out a single hole, using a drinking-glass neck as a template, while behind the motor he positioned a solitary 100watt bulb. When the device was plugged into the mains, the disc started rotating, and every time the hole came past the bulb, it allowed a brief glimpse of light to show out of the front of the cardboard disc. I think the only modification that he made was to add a further hole to the cardboard disc exactly 180 degrees from the first one; in this way the light looked like it was going on and off faster, as he could not alter the speed of the motor. If he could, I doubt very much that 45 rpm would have been fast enough, and so he was stuck with 78rpm. Anyway, I gave Billy the go ahead and told him that he could use the strobe at the very next booking as long as he did not overplay the idea. In other words, he was not to use it on every single song that we played.
Came the big day and the band launched into the last bracket of the night, something Billy had been waiting for. In those days, the last bracket was the highlight of the night, and so he had wanted to enhance the performance by leaving the crowd dumbstruck. Something he did nicely, because he waited until Ginger broke into a particular fast and fancy lead break on his guitar. The end result was that Ginger had to stop playing, as he could not see what he was doing. For a greater effect, Billy had killed the one and only 60-watt bulb, which was lighting up the stage from the back of the hall, thus leaving only the strobe light for Ginger to see what he was doing. If you can imagine, a strobe is really a light going on and off. During the times when it was off, there was no light on the stage whatsoever, and Billy's light was not flashing in microseconds as they do today. Later, Ginger told us that it looked like his hand was jerking up and down the fret board and he had not a clue where he was. Lucky for the rest of the band, it had no effect on us, as we did not look too closely at where our hands needed to be on the instruments. Anyway, it all turned out reasonable well; Billy continued to use the strobe on stage and promised that he would never use it again while Ginger was playing a solo. The whole exercise turned out to be a good idea as no other bands in our area had anything like it, so it gave us an edg
e on them.
Once while in a dressing room, or I should say an old cloakroom at the back of the hall, we were all treated to a laugh when one of the girls who had forced her way in acknowledged that we were a high-tech band. How's that for a band playing under a 100watt red sweet paper covered bulb and a further 100watt bulb that goes on and off every second. The mind boggled with what we might come up with next to improve our performance.
While we played in these old halls, we were constantly being irritated by very loud humming noises that seemed to come from our amps. At times, it was deafening, while sometimes it would die down when we moved our fingers across the strings. It was usually me that was always picking up shocks from my guitar, and over a short period of time I developed a small burn mark on my right wrist, where it lay on the bridge of my guitar. It worried me to such an extent that I went to the doctors, not knowing what was happening. Lucky for me, the doctor knew a little about electricity and informed me that a lot of these old village halls were not earthed correctly, and that the old wiring had deteriorated to such a state that maybe it had become unattached from the earth rod, which should be in the ground where the power entered the hall. On the question of only myself picking up the shocks, he told me that I was more susceptible to the electricity than the other members of the band and picked it up more easily. He suggested that we take an electrician along to the gigs with us and to check each hall out. However, that was out of the question, as we did not earn enough money to pay the roadie, let alone an electrician. What I did do was to have a word with an electrician at work and he gave me a couple of tips.
At each booking, I would be the first to pick up my guitar and to see if I could affect the hum coming from the amp as I touched the strings. I would then lay my wrist on the bridge, and if I thought I was receiving a shock, we would try and earth the hut before we played. One trick was to bare one end of a long single piece of wire and to wind it around the cold-water tap in the kitchen area. We would then pass the other end of the wire out of the window, twist it around a metal meat skewer, and drive it in the ground. You don't know what a meat skewer is? Well, it's something that butchers used to stick into a piece of rolled up meat to keep it together while on display in their shop window. I believe that today they use wooden ones, or sometimes use string.
This would usually cure most of the problems for us. In hindsight, it's amazing that we never burnt any of these old village halls to the ground; with all of the fiddling we got up to. Mind you, the wiring was usually one hell of a mess before we arrived on the premises.
I can still hear Cliff Richard singing 'Move It', a record I played whenever I visited the Panhandle café, something I did on a regular basis.
The Panhandle was positioned right in the middle of the high street, standing opposite the town's one and only cinema. It was a favourite hangout location for most of the young people who lived in the area. The Panhandle was where we perfected our teenage skills, which were to help us rebel against the authorities of the day, with the use of hindsight, unfortunately it included our parents.
Its walls held many good memories for me but, sadly, they are also interlaced with a few bad ones that life always manages to throw at us from time to time. This seems to be one of our biggest tests in life, and it is how we react to them that determine which path our lives will follow. It was within this closely confined environment which only catered for the young, that we learnt all the secrets of Sex, Drugs and Rock n Roll.
Norman Stevens, a local businessman had bought the premises, wanting to attract and cash in on the young people and their newly found spending power. He had realised long before anybody else that they were going to be a force to be reckoned with in the very near future. Furthermore, he realised that they were going to have the potential to become the big spenders of the future, something that had not been possible up until that point in the world's development.
He converted the building from an old garage, and set it up with all of the then modern ideas that could be found in coffee bars throughout London. Its walls were padded so that the noise would not irritate the local residents living near or passing by, and painted it in the brightest of colours. One of the rooms in the cellar below the café bar became known as the Padded Cell and Norm, as he became known to most of his patrons, installed the very first jukebox that the town had ever seen. It was a Wurlitzer, and once again the idea had come from America. To our amazement, it held 100 records and cost sixpence a record or three plays for a shilling. We were just blown away; up until then we had only seen jukeboxes in the American films at the local Cinema. However, even at sixpence, it was still way beyond some of the young people's spending power. Whenever somebody tried to select a record, a small group of people would gather around them assisting them in their record choice.
This was also a period in time when the records became smaller. Having been known up until that point as 78's, they had now been reduced in size down to what became known as a 45. I dread to think how big a jukebox would be if it held 100 of the 78's, but I wouldn't mind betting that somewhere in America they had actually built one. It was an instrument that the band used constantly, in order to learn the latest songs that were being released, but not with our money I might add.
The café also introduced another first to the town, in the form of Coca-a-Cola, something else that had only been seen in the cinemas. Unfortunately, we could only taste its very sweet contents occasionally, as its price of one shilling prohibited us from drinking it on a regular basis.
Most of the young people who were working at that time had to give their parents a large proportion of their earnings to keep them, what was known as board and lodgings or keep for short, leaving them with only a few shillings a week, left over to spend.
It was always a struggle to make ends meet, especially if you wanted to keep up with the latest fashions of the day. Clothing was very costly, as I had found out when I bought my very first Teddy Boy suit and had to part with what I thought was the grossly overinflated price of £12 in order to stand out and looked good to the other young people of the town.
You might think that we were following the Americans in everything we did; after all, in those days we were known as the fifty-first state, what with jukeboxes, Coca-a-Cola, American music and leather jackets, all copied from the movies.
However, the Teddy Boy dress craze was something that was completely British, recycled back from the Edwardian days in the early part of the century. During those times it had been the favourite choice of the then King Edward and hence the name, Teddy being the nick name for Edward in those days.
The Padded Cell was also where the 'Convertibles' somehow managed to perform, despite its very close confines. At times there would be almost 100 people packed in, with some even sitting on the front of the very small wooden stage, to hear the music that we pumped out whenever we got the chance. Norman would charge the young people 6 pence each to come in and listen to us. We were given the entire door take, while he relied solely upon the drinks and food they bought upstairs to make his money.
The Padded Cell was where Maureen taught me how to jive to the Rock n Roll music of the day, something that became very useful for me whenever I wanted to use the Elvis wiggle while singing his songs on stage.
This was also the location where I penned my very first hit song, "Dog Day Afternoon," which went on to become a million seller for me, although it was not recorded or released for a couple of years. However, during all that time we had played it on a regular basis while on stage, and so it became second nature, every time we played it, it just got better.
The buying public knows me as Johnny Morris, although my real name is actually Jamie Spencer, and I think it went like this,
Came home from work the other day
Earned no money so received no pay
Working all the day and always to a plan
Who wants to be a working-class man?
It's been a dog day afternoon
> It's been a dog day afternoon
I should have stayed in bed
It's been a dog day afternoon
Sometimes I wish that I were dead
Came home from work the other day
The neighbour and my wife had run away
The house was burnt and they had taken my car
They even smashed the neck off my old guitar
It's been a dog day afternoon
It's been a dog day afternoon
I should have stayed in bed
It's been a dog day afternoon
Sometimes I wish that I were dead
Came home from work the other day
Stopped for a beer, and some pool to play
It ended in a fight, over an argument
With me spending the night in an oxygen tent
It's been a dog day afternoon
It's been a dog day afternoon
I should have stayed in bed
It's been a dog day afternoon
Sometimes I wish that I were dead
Anyway, you all know the rest, no need for me to repeat myself.
Unfortunately, the cafe was also where we first started to experiment with drugs, and it all came about from the very fast pace of life that the band was trying to live up to. We were all still working during the daytime, while at nights we were practising, writing songs or playing gigs. Most of us were falling asleep on our feet. Until, that is, one of the young girls that frequented the Panhandle offered us a couple of tablets, after hearing us discussing the fact that we were too tired to go back on stage and play another bracket. She removed a small handkerchief from her handbag and slowly unrolled it, revealing a dozen or so white tablets. She then told us that her brother, a truck driver, used them to stay awake at work, and he called them speed. Well, it sounded as if our prayers were being answered. After all, that was all we wanted; to be able to stay awake for a little longer. Somehow, we never thought we were taking a drug; it was just a tablet to keep us awake for an extra couple of hours.
That night we all took a couple and were amazed at how good they made us feel. In fact we all agreed that we could have played all night on them. Lucky for us, we had taken the entire girl's supply, and so we were not going to be able to take anymore. However, it had turned out to be a fun experience that we all wanted to repeat the next time we played. Lucky for us, it was not to be, as the girl who had supplied us did not turn up at the next booking.
The drinking of Coca-a-Cola to wash down headache pills became a ritual that was based upon a rumour that the combination would give you a big kick, just like some of the pills that were being offered around at that time for large sums of money. I'm not sure if it worked or not, although a lot of people swore by the concoction. I took them myself but, at times I wondered if in fact I was imagining that I was on a high. I really don't know and nobody at that time seemed to know the answer either, but a hell of a lot of Coca-a-Cola and pills were consumed on dance nights. A few years later, we all learnt that Coca-a-Cola actually had cocaine as one of its secret ingredients, so maybe the kids of the day were onto something after all.
Skiffle music had passed us bye, and most of the bands in the country returned to their roots playing Rock n Roll music. The songs were also changing, as English singers and bands started writing and recording their own material. It was amazing just how many of them were finding success and having hit records.
Along with the other members of the 'Convertibles', I went to see Cliff Richard when he appeared at a nearby town of Ipswich, and his show blew us all away. As far as we were concerned, he was fair game to copy. To me, "Move it" was still the best song that he had released to date, although later as he became involved in films I thought his material became very weak and lovy dovy as I called it. He seemed to release a string of ballad type songs, as did Elvis when he went into the army. I have never been a lover of ballads. I am a rocker through and through and so I gradually weaned myself from the two biggest influences in my musical career so far.
At the Cliff Richard show, a young girl who was sitting in front of us and knew who we were became friendly and started talking. During the interval, as we were waiting for the main act to come on stage, she passed around some pink tablets and we were swept up in the heat of the moment. We had all thought that we were going to experience the same sort of thrill that we had gone through back at the Panhandle months earlier. However, we were sadly mistaken, because by the time we were about to head back home all of us became violently ill. However, none of us blamed the tablets at the time, thinking that we had all drunk to much beer, and so the incident did not put us off taking pills whenever they were offered. It got to the point where we were buying them from anybody who had them for sale. This was to cause a problem for us, although at the time we did not know it. Somehow, we trusted the people around us and, if they told us they were good stuff, we believed them. However, there are some unscrupulous people out there who would sell you their grandmother's heart pills if they thought they could get away with it. Therefore, with this in mind, it was a safe bet that a lot of the stuff that we and other young people of the day bought turned out to be bad for us, not just making us ill but, in some cases I would bet that they even killed a few people. As far as we were concerned speed was okay; it just kept us awake. The same with amphetamines, they were not a classic drug just something to make you feel good and speed you up, and on stage sometimes we need that.
It slowly became apparent that we needed a set of wheels to accept many more offers of band work that were being offered to us from venues outside our town. Furthermore, it was backbreaking work, pushing all of the gear around town on the old wooden builder's barrows that we had borrowed from JB's Father. At one time, we had almost destroyed some of the gear when one of the barrow's three feet high wooden steel-rimmed wheels fell off in the high street. On that occasion, we had to physically carry each item of our gear the remainder of the journey. JB managed to talk a bus conductor into allowing him to place his bass-speaker cabinet and amp on the entrance platform of a passing double-decker bus. However, he still had to carry it on his back the remaining quarter mile to the church hall where we were playing that night. Back at the crash site, a speeding car had tried to negotiate the corner where the cart had been abandoned with what I always laughed about and described as a flat tyre. Unfortunately, the driver had misjudged his speed and ended up driving right over the wheel that had fallen off, smashing a couple of its wooden spokes. Sadly for us, all of the cash we received from the gig that night had to be used to get the wheel and cart repaired before JB's Father found out. There was also a funny sequel to this story, when we later found out that all we needed to do was to lift the cart up and to push the wheel back on, and then to find a nail or something similar to poke through the axle shaft to hold the wheel on. It would have saved us a lot of long, torturous, backbreaking work lugging the gear around that day, and we might have made some money from the evening's labour.
Lucky for us, JB was working at one of the local garages as an apprentice mechanic and so, with his knowledge and some money that we all managed to club together; we went to inspect a van that had been advertised in the local Mercury weekly newspaper. It turned out to be a Bedford Doormobile with sliding doors for the driver and passenger. JB gave it the once over, pointing out to us lesser mortals, who had no idea what he was talking about, a few jobs that would need doing to make it roadworthy. Basically, he gave it the thumbs up and so we started the long arduous task of trying to screw the seller down to the lowest amount that he would take for it. To aid us in this task, JB kept pointing out lots of other potential problems that he had invented. He did such a good job of it that at one time I was not sure if we should buy it. From the way he was talking, we were about to purchase an assortment of problems that would cost a fortune to put right. In the end, I left it to JB and trusted him and his judgement, and he came through with the goods, sealing the deal for £35. We were also lucky that being ab
le to drive was a requirement for his daytime job.
The first thing we did was to paint the name the 'Convertibles' along both sides of the van in bright red lettering. After all, we wanted everybody who saw the van to know who was riding inside. It felt like heaven, as we could put our feet up and ride in style to the bookings. At times, we all imagined ourselves as Royalty. Whenever we arrived or departed a venue, there was always an army of would be helpers, all clambering to carry our gear. So they could later brag to their friends that they were roadies, and had helped the fabulous 'Convertibles'. At times Billy our roadie became a little worried in case they stole his job away from him.
With our wheels all in place, we set about trying to conquer the bright lights of the neighbouring large town of Ipswich. In doing so, we picked up a completely new group of fans and friends, especially the female variety.
Sadly, I let my guard down and succumbed along with the other members of the band, and started dating the girls we picked up at each booking. I say sadly because I had thought a lot of Jennifer. I had always thought that we could have had a long term relationship. After all, she was the type of girl that I had always wanted to marry. I do not know why I let it happen, because I loved Jennifer so much. It wasn't that the other girls were better looking, because in many cases they weren't. Later, I remarked to Ginger more than once that I never did meet a better looking girl. As an excuse, I can only say that I was swept along like many others in the youth revolution that was taking place. The seeds had been sown for the swinging sixties to follow. In hindsight, I now admire those who did not succumb, as they became the true people who stood out in a crowd as being different. Unfortunately, I just went along for the ride, like many others. Maybe it was just a case of the grass always looks greener in the next field, I really don't know.
I was told later that the break up affected Jennifer so much that she almost became a recluse, not going out or mixing with other young people, and so I guess she took it quite hard. Especially as I never officially told her that I did not want to see her again. Although, if I'd have been given the chance, I guess in my drunken drugged up state I would have strung her along, just like all the other girls I was now playing around with. We just stopped seeing each other, while friends later told her what I had been up to and it almost brought her to a breakdown. Moreover, I was not in any condition to alter my decision.
As if to make amends to her, I wrote my second hit song especially for her, calling it "Missing you," although I was later informed that she only ever listened to it once, telling her friends that she never wanted to hear it again.
Missing me, Missing you, and all the things we used to do.
Of the nights we spent, in each other's arms.
Of the love we found, from all our charms.
Of kissing and cuddling, and the promises we made
Of our whirlwind romance, that would never fade
Missing me, Missing you, and of all the love I had for you
For that one crazy moment that I had no feeling
I made a mistake and for that I'm reeling
If you could forget and heal the pain
Maybe you could love me once again
Missing me, missing you, for treating you this way
As I hope and pray that one-day you will
Understand what I did, and bear no ill
I hope and pray that somehow, someway
True love will find us together one day
Well, you all know the rest. It's also a valued point that, by singing this ballad I had fallen into the very same trap that both Cliff and Elvis had experienced and not remained a true rocker, but that was to come much later.
The band went from strength to strength and I could not believe the sounds we were achieving. It was very professional and tight, to such a point that I decided to give up playing the guitar altogether and to become what is known in the trade as a front man. Now I could strut about on the larger stages that we were performing on, while swinging my legs around at every opportunity, and bending down to touch the girls who usually pushed up to the front of the stage. We had raised the bar a couple of notches and word soon spread around that we were a great live band to watch, although one of the main reasons was that I was becoming unpredictable and would do anything that came into my head, without first considering the consequences. However, the band was good about it and got to know exactly what I would do just before I did it, and in this way they could play to it and even emphasise the point and at times exaggerate a little to the crowd. It became a saying amongst us that any publicity is good publicity. It did not matter how bad the deeds were that we got up to, it placed the 'Convertibles' into the forefront of the young people's minds.
However, our womanising also had its drawbacks, as most of the girls who wanted to be picked up by the band had normal everyday boyfriends. Once the band had completed its performance and moved on, more than likely never to return to that area again, these girls would have to return to their normal boyfriends. With this in mind, we had many incidents that arose from enraged boyfriends all wanting to take it out on us. In the early days, we were okay while we were still on the stage. However, once we came down onto the dance floor, we were fair game for them to try to beat us up in front of their girlfriends, in doing so they would look the savour of the day. Later, as they became more irate, a couple of them got on the stage and in our trying to throw them off most of the gear became vulnerable. Lucky for us, nothing ever got broken and Billy became a type of bouncer for us. I think every one of us had been on the wrong end of the local marauding males at one time or another. At times, some even came in from other villages just to have a go at us. Sadly, the reputation that I had gained at school had not reached these out of the way places, as far as we were concerned we were out in the sticks.
We further inflamed the situation by allowing the girls to come into our so called dressing rooms before the show and during the breaks that we took. It certainly was not a place for the squeamish, and on the odd occasion that the boyfriend's gate crashed the room, all hell was let loose. However, we loved it and milked it for all it was worth. As long as we came out on top, we did not mind a good fight, although we often wondered how the girls faired the next day with their so called regular boyfriends. I am afraid we were all guilty of situations that developed, and when I say all that included the girls.
Once again, it was Billy who caught one of the worse beatings we became involved in, when JB found him beat up outside the dance hall after an argument with one of the local boys over Billy making eyes at his girlfriend. Sadly, we never learnt from this and persisted in playing around in search of what we described as a good night out.
Because of this incident, JB talked us into using two of his cousins, who were very big muscular looking guys, as bouncers, and so they accompanied us around for a couple of months. There was no way that we could afford to pay them on a regular basis. However, we did promise to pay them a bonus if and when they stopped a fight in the dance halls. It did not take us long to discover that they were stopping at least three or four fights per night, and to prove it, it was costing us a fortune. At times, they were taking home more money that we were. Until, that is, after watching them for a whole evening I realised that they were provoking the fights in the first place, and loving every minute of the experience. Needless to say, we soon knocked that idea on the head and sacked them, and the fights suddenly dropped off dramatically.
Out of the blue, we were offered a booking at the local American airbase, and grabbed at it with both hands. We all hoped that this would lead to bigger and better things for us, as there were several airbases within our area, and it was a completely untapped market. However, the booking did not go down to well with the audience, because we had to play in the airman's club that consisted of mostly coloured service personnel, and they were not interested in our brand of English rock and roll music. All they wanted to hear was their favourite tunes from back home in the States
, most of which we had never heard of, and so we could not please them. Instead, we played all of the American hit songs that we did know, hoping that it would satisfy them. Unfortunately, we were sadly wrong and the night turned into an utter disaster for us. Then, once the alcohol kicked in, some of them wanted to get up on the stage and use our instruments, something we were not about to let them do. At one time, it looked like it was going to get out of hand and become ugly, until a guy who looked like he was in charge ordered them off the stage and told the audience to give us a break, that we had been hired to entertain the airmen and to show them what the music scene was like here in England, and that if they wanted to hear their favourite hit songs from America, they should go back to their barracks and listen to their record collections. We were glad to get out of that booking in one piece and most of us vowed that we would not bother to return in the near future.
At a booking in Ipswich, I picked up a young girl called Anne, who just happened to work at the local Churchman's cigarette factory. She started to turn up regularly at the bookings, with an old sweet paper bag full of tobacco that she had smuggled out of the factory for me stuffed inside her knickers. At that time, I was rolling my own cigarettes and so it was always gratefully received, although at times I wondered how long it had been concealed in its rather private place. The in joke around the band at the time was that I was smoking Camel brand of cigarettes and that it was made up from camel droppings.
Colin's brother, who was still playing in a jazz band, introduced him to smoking what became known as pot, and so it was not long before Colin then introduced the band to this little green weed. As we were all rolling our cigarettes at that time, it was easy to add it into our usual tinned tobacco, or in my case what I called my loose assorted knickers brand. At times, it took over our evening's playing as we were constantly under its influence and addiction, and it was an addiction, as we constantly wanted to smoke it. It also became an essential ingredient in my song writing and I was amazed at its powers of inspiration, although at the time the people around me probably thought it was a load of old rubbish. Dare I carry on mentioning that when we were not smoking we were popping pills, and coupled with drinking our bodies were experiencing a cocktail of drugs that would have normally dropped a horse.
Norman at the Panhandle was the first to realise the musical potential of the band and called me to one side for a chat. To my surprise, he offered to become our manager, telling me that he would do all of the organisation and arrangements for the band, so that we could concentrate solely on our performance. Sounded great to me, until I asked him, but what is it going to cost us. Norman laughed and told me nothing; as he could easily extort more money from each gig to pay for his cut, and in doing so we would all more than likely receive a little more. I can remember laughing at him and saying that he was a shrewd businessman. He then flattered me by telling me that if I agreed he would make me a star, and I needed no further encouragement. We did a deal right there and then, and I agreed that he would get an equal cut, from now on we would split the deal six ways. After all, as far as I was concerned he was going to earn his share, setting up the venues and doing all of the organising that I hated. That day we signed nothing, both agreeing on a handshake, and as far as we were concerned it was going to be binding for life.
As a band, we had to sit down and try to map out a future, and so I arranged a night at the Panhandle along with Norman. I then told the other members what had been agreed between Norman and me, and it was gratifying to see that they all took to the idea, and that I did not have to use a hard sell on them. Mind you, you did not have to be a brain surgeon to work out that Norman was going to be good for the band. However, there were a few things that we had to sort out, one of which was our daytime jobs. It had become evident to us all that eventually this subject would come up, because we were now playing at least three nights a week and it was becoming harder to work both. My foreman at the local iron foundry had threatened me about my late morning starts.
The big sticking point was JB who was tied up in an apprenticeship; his Father had always insisted that he got a trade behind him, as this Rock n Roll craze was not going to last. He kept saying that JB needed something to drop back on to when he was married and settled down. There was just no way that he could make a living out of playing a stupid guitar.
Our long term future plans were nearly destroyed the night Steve approached and told me that he had put one of his girl friend's in the club. She was pregnant and, as was the custom, he had to marry her so that the child had a legal Father. It was something that was forced upon the young people in those days by their patents, even if they were not in love with each other. It all sounded a little hypocritical really, especially when you consider how many of those parents had just been through the Second World War, spreading their seeds of fertilisation around like confetti. Many a serviceman had returned home to find that his family had increased in size while he was away, all the while keeping from his wife how many girls he had put in the family way while he worked his way across Europe.
A hastily arranged shotgun marriage was organised by the two families so that the community did not know what had happened, as this would have brought bad publicity to all who were involved. This was a laugh, because you did not have to be a brain surgeon to be able to count the months, to discover that this pregnancy had somehow only lasted about six of them. What stood out to the band members was that Steve was not in love with the girl, he did not even like her, and that deep inside he did not want to go through with it. However, the pressure from his family won over the day and it all went through, even to the point where the bride wore white along with a white veil.
The 'Convertibles' played at the wedding reception, ensuring that everybody at least had a good time even though we could feel the friction between both families as each blamed the other for the situation that their children now found themselves in. We all saw the bride and groom off at the local railway station as they departed for their honeymoon by the sea, with a stay at Great Yarmouth.
However, they were both home by the Wednesday evening, the marriage was completely over and there was to be no reconciliation. The band took the juice out of Steve; all reckoned that it must be the shortest wedding on record. Both families were furious and blamed each other for the breakdown, at times it got very heated, to such a point that Steve had to move out of his parent's house. We all helped him find some digs just up the road from the Panhandle in Temple Road, where he moved in with a little old lady who turned out to treat him like her son. At times, he reckoned that it was better than living at home, as he was only paying the same board and lodgings money as he had done to his own family.
While the band was having its flings with the young girls of the area, Billy the roadie had not been wasting time. Until that is, the day he was caught with a young girl in a derelict house by one of the local police officers. As if that was not bad enough, it turned out that the girl was only fifteen. Admittedly, she was only a couple of weeks short of her sixteenth birthday, but that fact did not stop the officer from filing charges against Billy. The whole incident just about drove him crazy, especially when we kept telling him that he would be locked up for what he had done and that the warders would more than likely throw away the keys. Then there were the prisoners who would take a liking to any new young looking inmate.
Looking back, I guess it was a crazy thing to say, because I believe that at one time he nearly committed suicide over the whole affair. Then a friend told him that if he joined the British Army there was a good chance that the judge would let him off. After all, it would save the country a fortune if he were in the Army for six years instead of prison. That is exactly what he did, and lucky for him the police dropped the charges and so he was able to keep a clean slate as they say. The only thing we did not like about the whole affair was that it left us without a roadie.
Somehow, Norman managed to talk us into playing at an English airbase even after
we had told him of the problems that we had encountered at the American one. He just insisted that this time it would be different, as they would be an English audience and so we could stick to our normal show. To our surprise, he was right and we had a good time. The organisers had bussed in a couple of coach loads of local girls from the surrounding villages, and to cap it off, the beer was half the price to what we had been used to. That night we played some great music, most of us found new girlfriends, and we all got drunk for half the price. As if that was wasn't good enough, most of the airmen attending insisted on buying us beer whenever our glasses were empty.
Came the day when Norman announced to the band that he had just negotiated a big deal for the 'Convertibles' to spend a summer season at Butlins Holiday Camp near Skegness in Lincolnshire. None of us could believe the good news, it was great and not only that, it was from May right through to the end of September. Just imagine playing every single night for that amount of time, how tight the band would be by the time we returned. There would be no more lugging of gear around each night, because at Butlins we could leave it all set up and just climb on to the stage whenever we had to play. However, once the excitement started to die down, members started asking questions that involved them. JB had the worst fears, as he started to wonder what his Father was going to say about his job. Being away for five months meant that we would all have to give up our daytime jobs.
While JB sat in the corner contemplating his future, the rest of us were all firing further questions at Norman. What had been agreed was that in the afternoons and evenings we would be playing in a large ballroom. However, during the mornings, we would all become what are known, as Redcoats and we would have to help entertain the holidaymakers in whatever type of pastime we were allocated. It did not take Steve long to mention that half the camp would be made up of females, and that each week as one lot left the camp another fresh lot arrived. He went on to tell us that it meant that each week we could have a different girlfriend, and we would be paid to look after them and their needs. Jeremy added that Steve would need the money, if he were going to pay for the dozens of children that he might sire. He continued to tell him that he should keep it in his trousers, as it was starting to rule his life; otherwise it was going to be a costly holiday for the band. I could not help throwing in my two pennies worth by adding that he would get the band a bad name, to which we all laughed. Jeremy then added that we already had one.
There was a funny outcome to Steve's five day shotgun marriage, it turned out that the girl lost the baby and so they went through the whole wedding ritual and all of its problems and arguments all for nothing. In addition he had also gone through the break-up with his family for nothing.
JB caught us all off guard as he announced that he would have to drop out of the band. His Father had laid down the law and there was no way that he could defy him, he would have to finish his apprenticeship. He was sorry it had turned out this was, but it was for the better. He then wished us every success and told us that he would keep in touch. We all felt sorry for him, especially as he had been there right from the beginning, and now that we were about to move up a notch, there was a possibility that we might get to the top. The good times lay just a little further ahead, something he was going to miss out on after going through all of the bad times. Nevertheless he had made his decision and it was not to be for him, but he looked a broken man.
We picked up another bass player from an Ipswich area band known as 'Stew and the Strawberry's'. It did not take Richard Wilson, who we called Rick, many practice sessions to learn our material, and surprisingly he added to the sound because he sung very close harmonies along with me.
We arrived at Butlins Holiday Camp to the sounds of the Beatles singing "Love Me Do", which was blaring out from loudspeakers strategically placed all around the camp; it was a big hit at the time. The Beatles certainly changed the music scene, as we knew it, not only in England but also around the world. What they achieved helped us all, as English became the flavour of the year. It seemed that the whole world wanted to cash in on what became known as the Liverpool sound, and later as the British sound. Bands that had been struggling suddenly found themselves with recording contracts and national tours. The Beatles also helped change the way in which songs were written, produced, recorded and marketed. Up until then, only a few people manipulated what the public was going to hear, and they had dominated the song writing world since time began. New songwriters could not get a foot in the door, as these music moguls and their closed shop publishing companies controlled everything. If you did not go along with what they wanted, your songs were simply rejected, even if they were good. However, they usually managed to purchase the songs from the writers for small amounts of money before they kicked them out of their offices. These were then published in the company's name as being their songs, with no further royalties being paid to the original writer.
Up until the arrival of the Beatles, these companies had always been reluctant to publish other artist's material, unless some of their lesser quality songs were placed on the B-side of each record. In this way, when the money from the sales was divided up, the B-side received 50% of the profits, even though their song was not popular and had not attracted the record sale in the first place. If bands did not go along with this scam, their contracts were torn up. These publishing companies could not lose, as the whole exercise was a nice little earner for them. The Beatles wrestled all this away from these powerful moguls, but not without a long drawn out fight, to this day, the Beatles do not own the songs that they wrote, as others are becoming very rich on the proceeds.
Butlins was just as we had imagined it would be. It became one long five-month holiday. We all lived together in what looked like a very small one roomed bungalow that consisted of a room full of beds. For a wash or shower, we walked to the end of a long row of these bungalows to the washhouse. For meals, we ate in a very large dining hall that housed hundreds of people. There were so many people on the camp at one time that the meals were divided into two sittings. The camp also boasted half a dozen pubs, one of which had a total bar space of nearly a quarter of a mile, while hanging from the ceiling were hundreds and hundreds of model aircraft. Six ballrooms catered for every style of dance that you could imagine. There were four large outdoor swimming pools and two indoor heated ones, football fields, tennis courts, putting greens, indoor table tennis rooms and many small cafes that all had a jukebox for entertainment. For the 'Convertibles', this was a musical heaven. There was no need to practice, as we played every afternoon and evening. If we wanted to learn a new song, we would just go ahead make it up during one of the shows.
The owners had planned the place down to the last detail, even dividing the holidaymakers up, so that there were fifty percent each of boys and girls. The living quarters were all lined up in rows, with the ones housing the females overlooking the ones that housed the males. What with the girls and the beer, we were all in a musical heaven, and we were being paid to enjoy ourselves. Although I must add that we were not receiving the large amounts of money that we had all imagined would come our way. However, we all agreed that it was worth it, knowing that by the end of September we were going to be red hot as a band.
Before May was out, we were oblivious to the outside world, having dropped into the camp routine, which saw us under the influence of alcohol and pep pills for most of the time. Because we were the band, the girls seemed to flock around us at every opportunity. We had the pick of the bunch as they say, and there was no chance that we would annoy their boyfriends, as most of them were single or had left them behind. This was what attracted the young to Butlins holiday camps in those days. The boys went to pick up the girls, while the girls went to be picked up by the boys. However, the big bonus for us was that each week, as the holiday camp had a turnaround of holidaymakers, it presented the band with a completely new line up of girls for the next week. With our contract lasting for twenty weeks, this gave us one hell of a ch
oice.
In July, Norman turned up at the camp with a large smile on his face, as he proceeded to give us the good news that he had managed to get us a recording deal. After persuading the camp to give us one day off, by telling them that we would be recording stars and so it would be good for their publicity. We all headed to the Regal recording studios in Regents Street London.
As it turned out it was not quite what we had expected, as it was only an audition, a trial to see if we were good enough to record at a later date. We were only allowed to record four tracks of other people's material and were given only four hours' recording time. We were not allowed to record any of my original songs, some of which I had written months earlier in the Panhandle.
We chose what we thought might grab the technician's attention and got stuck in. As the Beatles were in almost every position in the hit parade at that time, we choose a couple of their songs, "Please Please Me" and "Love Me Do", with myself playing the harmonica that Colin had lent and taught me how to play back at the holiday camp. I believe the other two numbers were "Shaking All Over" by Johnny Kidd and the Pirates, one of our favourites at that time, and the Elvis classic "All Shook Up". There was no denying that Elvis was still very much revered in the charts, even though the music styles were changing
We left the studios feeling a little dejected, knowing that we could have played better if given a second chance. However, in those days there were not many second chances. We had all set up in one big room, with just a couple of small screens around the drummer. Each song was taken in just one take and so any mistakes were left in, and unfortunately there were many because of our nervousness. Norman calmed us all down by telling us that it was just a test and that if we passed we would be back to do it properly the next time. However, I was not sure that we would be back, especially after I saw Norman and a couple of the boffins arguing with each other in the control room. When I asked him what was wrong he just brushed it off, telling me that it was just business. The other members of the band did not help the situation as they were constantly joking and messing around. At one time, a secretary had brought us some coffee and a plate of sausage rolls into the room. It all ended up as a bit of a bun fight with the sausage rolls being thrown at each other, leaving one hell of a mess in the studio. Once the recording was over, Norman saw us off on the return trip to the camp as we were supposed to be playing that night in the main ballroom.
As we drove out of London, we were all in pretty good spirits and larking about. That was one thing about this band, we all got on and enjoyed each other's company, and fun was always the order of the day. We knew we had done badly in the studios but, as far as we were concerned, we just picked ourselves up and got on with life. We needed nobody to tell us how to live our lives and so we lived it to the full, and we had worked all that out for ourselves.
Halfway to Skegness we were all hungry and dry and so we persuaded Rick, who was driving, to find a café and pull over so we could stretch our legs. At the time, we were passing through a small very old English town with very narrow streets, where the footpaths were also quite narrow. Rick spotted a cafe and asked everybody if it would do as he pulled into the kerb to park. He then slid the door back and jumped out, straight into the path of a thirty-ton truck that was overtaking our parked vehicle at great speed. It was all over in a split second and left him impaled onto the front of the truck twenty metres further up the road where it had finally come to a halt. It happened so fast and there was nothing that we could do to help him. He must have been dead within seconds as he hit the vehicle with such force. We were all still sitting inside the van, dumbstruck at what had just happened.
We had to remain in the town with the police for the remainder of the day as they worked out the sequence of events. I could not get in touch with Norman as he was driving back to the Panhandle, so I just left a message with his secretary about what had happened. When we did get on our way back to the camp I drove. However, there was none of the usual fun in the air. We were all in a state of shock, wondering what the hell we would do next. We did not arrive back at the camp until after midnight and so we all went straight to bed. It was left to me to go and see the camp manager the following morning, to sort out what we could do. As far as he was concerned, it was business as usual, he put us in touch with a local group and we borrowed their bass player for a couple of nights until we worked out what we would do next. Lucky for us he was good, but somehow the songs did not sound quite as good as when Rick played, and I missed the harmonies that he sang along with me.
Sadly, none of us went to Rick's funeral, held by his family back in Ipswich, although we sent a very large wreath and all signed a card that went with it. Later, I wrote to his family, explaining how sorry we all were, and that we had all got on so well together. They never answered the letter and I just let it go, not wanting to prolong their agony.
Norman came to the rescue, when he rang and informed the band that JB was on his way to rejoin the band. Norman had approached him to see if he could help out. Lucky for us, since he had left he had not slept at nights, as he imagined that he had let his one and only chance of fame and fortune slip from his grasp. He had also spent countless hours arguing with his Father over the decision that he should finish his apprenticeship. It had come to a point where they were not even talking to each other, and JB had left home feeling bitter and disappointed that his five minutes of fame had been taken from him. When Norman explained what had happened to Rick, it only took him a couple of seconds to agree to rejoin the band. He later delighted in handing in his notice at the local garage where he was working. He had wanted to tell them to stuff the job but, at the last minute, he decided against it just in case he needed a job later in life, still thinking of his Father he thought better of burning his bridges behind him.
The band greeted JB with great excitement, as we knew that he would fit in without too much trouble, as he knew our repertoire. We had added a couple of new songs but it would not take him long to work it all out, although I did ask him to start singing a few harmonies behind me, as Rick had done. It did not take him long to drop back into the groove along with the rest of the band and to treat it all as a nice long holiday.
During the nights, the camp security staff, known as Blue Coats, patrolled the endless rows of sleeping accommodation units. Their main task was to make sure that the campers stayed in their own beds. However, they were easily persuaded to turn a blind eye, especially if money was involved. As we were working on the camp, we were allowed to do more or less as we liked, as long as we were discreet while we did it. When we all finished work we would have a few drinks, while introducing our new girl friends for the evening, working out who was sleeping with who, and where. Sometimes it became a little complicated, when our chosen girlfriend had roommates who did not agree with what was going on. On the other hand, even our own sleeping quarters were full of courting couples. During these occasions Colin and I, along with our girlfriends used to take a blanket and pillow and sleep in the heated swimming pool building where we had the place to our selves.
The 'Convertibles' were the main attraction on the camp and we played in the two biggest ballrooms. Even so, the camp's entertainment was boosted two nights of the week, when outside bands were brought in as extra treats for the campers. This was good for us, as it gave us a chance to see other bands at work, so that we could compare each other and in some instances maybe copy material. However, it had its down points because, as we could copy their songs, so they could copy ours.
The one good thing that came out of it was that we saw what was going on in the outside world, and we saw some good bands during those months. One that stands out was "Marty Wilde and the Wildcats," they had a great show, as did "Rory Storm and the Hurricanes" from the Beatles' hometown of Liverpool. Their show impressed us so much that the other members of our band wanted to copy it. I had to explain that if we did, then it would take away our originality. Up until then, our show had developed fro
m what we wanted to play; we had copied very little from other bands, other than the actual songs. I had to explain to them that you did not get far in this world being an exact copy of something else. If we were going to the top, it would only happen if we came up with something original, which was why we always did our own versions of the songs that we copied, we did not take a song apart in order that we might be able to play it note for note as the original record sounded. However, in the beginning this had all come about because we were simply not talented enough to be able do that. We had just played it as we thought it sounded on the record, and that included many wrong chords. Anyway, we liked it that way and so did our audience and that was what mattered. Later, whenever we were interviewed we would tell the journalists that it had all been planned that way, and that we thought the song need the new chords to make it sound better. I could not believe that they swallowed the story and that it was printed. Furthermore, it was never challenged by the so called music critics of the day. This proves my point that, if you say it with conviction most people will believe anything.
Our time at the holiday camp was musically good for the band as we became very tight and at ease with an audience. If our earlier times at the Panhandle had been our apprenticeship, then Skegness was where we perfected our playing by stamping our own little bit of authority on to the act. Playing to different audiences from around the county had proved that nationally we were appealing. We also learnt how to handle and manipulate a crowd, and no matter what problem or disaster happened to us on stage, we always had an answer and managed to squirm out of it.
We also used it as a time to let our hair down and to unwind. The holiday atmosphere was kind to us and we took full advantage of it at every opportunity. One night, after we had finished playing and we were a little the worse for wear because of the drinks, Ginger and I gave the campers something to remember us by when we went to the larger of the outside swimming pools and gave everybody a diving display. Mind you, we were fully clothed at the time. The campsite rules forbade swimming after dark. By the time we had climbed to the top diving board six times, we must have had a crowd of nearly 3000 people all standing around clapping and cheering us. I remarked to Ginger that it was possibly the biggest crowd that we had ever performed in front of to date. Then, just before the last dive we saw the camp Blue Coats running to the side of the pool to arrest us. Therefore, we hatched a little plan between us, where we would both dive side by side, landing together by the side of the pool but curling up in a ball just before we hit the water so that we made one hell of a splash, completely drenching the Blue Coats. The crowd then moved forward, pushing them into the pool, and pulled Ginger and I out, so that we could beat a hasty retreat into the crowd and escape being told off and possibly being sacked by the management.
Unfortunately, there was one big downside to our musical success, because of the 'I don't care, try anything attitude', the band was having problems with our drug taking, which up until now had only involved pills and grass. Towards the end of our stay at Skegness, Colin became the first real victim of our chosen way of life. He had been experimenting and became the first in the band to become addicted to the stuff. He had kept it from most people but we could read the signs and we knew it would get worse rather than better. The only way he would have kicked the habit was to completely drop out of the way of life that we were living, as it constantly attracted the bad side of a world in which we were moving around in. In order that we might keep running at the pace of life that we had chosen, we needed that little extra something that seemed to perk us up for the task. The taking of drugs just seemed to pick you up, so that you became the hyperactive type of person that was needed to live the professional musician's way of life. The funny thing was that, as long as he was high, it did not affect his playing ability; in fact most of us thought that he played better. However, it was a different story if he was on a downer and looking for his next shot. This was no problem as there were a handful of local guys who used to climb the camp security fence each night to sell whatever we wanted.
Most of the campers, who were taking the stuff, would bring it with them as they were only at the camp for one week. It seemed to be carried around quite openly, as most of the police did not know what it looked like or in the case of grass what it smelt like.
If you befriended these people, usually they were very willing to share a little with you so that when they went home they could tell all their friends that they had shared the stuff with a pop star. It was everybody's delight to be able to tell their friend that they knew a rock star, and even more that they shared a little grass with them. As with all addicts, it is hard to tell them that they have a problem; to them they are quite sane. It's all the other people in the world around them who have the problem and all they want to be able to do is live their lives as they want to, even if it is a road to self-destruction. We knew Colin had a problem, and that there was a chance that we might end up the same way. Nevertheless, there was no way that we were going to give up our way of life, which included pill popping and smoking grass.
By the time we all arrived safely back home, we had already become legends and heroes to the town's young people. We were now famous professional musicians who had taken the world by storm. As many of them had idolised other rock stars of the day, now they looked upon us in the same light, even though we had not had a hit record, and after all, we had only been playing at a small seaside resort town. However, to these people we were stars and anyway we were the first band from this area that had ever played professionally. To the band, the whole thing was totally out of all proportion, although we did enjoy and soak up the publicity.
When we visited Norman at the Panhandle, the first thing we all wanted to know was how the recording session went and when were we to be signed up. His reply disappointed us; as he went on to tell us that he was still waiting to hear back from the record bosses. However, he had some other good news for us and proceeded to tell us that we were signed up to undertake a national tour in a week's time, after we had some time off. He had bribed somebody in the Butlins organisation to give him information regarding where most of the holidaymakers came from. It turned out that apart from London, or the Smoke as we called it, a large proportion of them came from the northern working class areas. Norman had then sat down with another promoter and worked out a tour that took in a few of the larger towns in the North as well as London, so that we could cash in on our popularity at Skegness. After all, the campers would have remembered the band name, and might like to take their friends along to show them what they missed by not holidaying with them. It all sounded great to us, at least this time we would be able to see other parts of the country.
The tour was to take in over forty venues, with us playing at least six nights a week, and so Norman had lined up a full-time roadie for us. Dave Allen came well recommended, having moved to the town with his parents from London where he had worked with a couple of other bands in the past. He was a good guitarist in his own right, and so he would be a good person to have around, to set up the guitars as well as the gear.
Dave was also a little bit of an inventor, usually coming up with ideas that enhanced our act. Within just a couple of days of joining us, he approached me with an idea to flood the stage with what looked like smoke. Until then, these sorts of effects had only been seen on the television. Without asking him for too many details, I told him to give it a try and we would pay for it, as long as it did not cost too much money. Within just a few days, he amazed us all with a brief demonstration out the back of the Panhandle Café. Unfortunately, we were not as impressed the first time that he used his little idea on stage.
It consisted of a frying pan sitting on top of a very small army style tin stove and was heated by a fuel block, the type used while the soldiers were on exercise or active service. It was safe, but at times it looked a little dodgy. Anyway, at the given time in the show when he wanted to make smoke, Dave would flick a small amount of coo
king fat from a small plastic container that he had made up into the middle of the by now red hot frying pan. Then, as he stood behind the pan and the big cloud of grey smoke start to build up around him, Dave fanned the smoke with a piece of cardboard in the direction of the band playing on stage. It was a great effect, although after just a few minutes of it we were all starting to cough and splutter until the smoke thinned out, only to be greeted by another fresh cloud of smoke that suddenly appeared from the side of the stage. It did not take long before the whole dance hall was filled with the horrible smell of burning oil. Added to that, it usually hung to our clothing and during the intervals we had to all go outside in the fresh air to try and get the horrible smell off us.
One of our fans made the remark that at times we all smelt like burnt hot dogs. Even the fans copped a lot of flak from their parents, when they returned home smelling like a Barbeque, not to mention the couple of times that the dance organisers called out the local fire brigades, and were told off for wasting their time. Mind you, the fire officers were not impressed when they discovered the source of the smoke. However, we continued to let Dave use his little invention but only on the bigger venues, while telling him to go sparingly on the oil and the number of times that he used the damn thing during the night's show.
However, before we set off on our first tour of the country, Norm asked us to play one gig at the local American airbase where we had first experienced an American audience. Before we could tell him that there was no way we were going back to be humiliated by that lot, he butted in to tell us that this time it was at the Rod and Gun Club, and so we would be playing to a completely different audience. He went on to tell us that we would be doing him a favour, as he'd promised a friend who ran the club that we would play for them.
Reluctantly, we agreed and started the night expecting trouble just like we had experienced in the Airmen's club. However, this time the venue was a lot more subdued and we were allowed to play our usual show unhindered, although I might add that we had to drop our volume levels down by several notches. The only thing that worried us was that every time somebody came up and asked for a request it was always for a country and western number, and we knew none. It seemed that every person attending that night just wanted to hear a Jim Reeves song, and I did not have a clue who the heck Jim Reeves was. However, we were all introduced to him during our breaks from the stage, when the jukebox in the corner sang out an endless stream of his songs. Furthermore, every other one just happened to be "Put Your Sweet Lips a Little Closer to the Phone". By the time we played our last bracket of the night, I think we all knew every single word to the song. To the point that, when we reluctantly let one of the American guys get on stage to sing it, we let him start singing on his own, and then gradually one by one we all managed to get in and play something quietly behind him. It turned out to be quite a nice rendition and at the end, as the audience kept applauding, the guy sang another couple of verses. We did not mind as it was almost the end of the evening and at least we had ended on a high note.
However, Norman kept one more little secret from us right up until a couple of days just before we departed on our tour. We had all gathered in the Panhandle to make the last minute adjustments to our departure date and to work out a route across the country, when he called us all together and gave us the good news that the following day our first record was to be released. Regal records had decided to release all four tracks on what was known then as an EP (Extended Player) 45 records. I could not believe the excitement in the room, as everybody tried to talk at the same time, all asking every conceivable question on what would happen next. Then, to add a little icing to the cake, Norman produced a small cardboard box containing copies of the disc, and we were all given three copies each. We were all on top of the moon, believing that we had made it in the record business. However, we still had to sell a million copies before we would be known as stars outside our hometown.
Later that day we all went to our local record shop to sign copies of our brand new record as they were sold to what we thought was an eagerly awaiting public. However, that turned out to be a bit of a disaster for us, because word had not spread of its release and there had been no publicity by the shop owner. Therefore, reluctantly we signed a couple of dozen, so the shop owner Mr Higgs could sell them later. Boy that was a sock in the eye for us all and brought us down to earth with a bang. I can still remember saying at the time that one minute you're up and the next minute you're down.
The next day we drove halfway across the country to Birmingham to play the first gig of the tour. We all had great expectations about what to expect, and so we were all bitterly disappointed with the first booking when we were greeted by the sight of a very small church hall that looked like it could house only 100 people. Still, it was a booking and we were being paid relatively good money at £2-10 shillings each a night.
However, the gig turned out to be a good one, as we played to a full house and that is always good. The timber walls and the density of the crowd absorbed our sound, with the result that our music sounded great. Not only that, as we stood up on the stage above everybody we could watch the seething mass gyrate to the sound of our music, which seemed to go down well. There was not enough room for them to jive or to swing around dancing, and so most of them just watched our act while they clung onto their partner; I wonder why.
Just as Norman had predicted, there were a couple in the audience who had seen us at Butlins earlier in the year. I wasted no time in telling them of our record release, at every opportunity I would have thought that by the end of the night they might have been fed up with me talking about it. What the band liked most that night was the introduction at the beginning, when the MC announced us as coming direct from a tour of the Butlins Holiday Camps and as having a hit record, which were all lies but then isn't the whole industry just one big lie? If you want to make it big, you have to milk it for everything you can get. If you have to tell a few little white lies on the way, well so be it, as long as they're not great big whopping black ones. Nevertheless, as I have said before, with the change in attitudes of the young people around the world, any publicity was turning out to be good publicity. It gets you in front of the public via the newspapers, and then they want to see you in the flesh just so they can tell their friends that they have seen you. It was fast becoming a strange sort of industry, but I for one was lapping it all up and wanting more. I have always laughed at the press, who constantly make up stories to sell to papers by chopping down somebody they dislike. When, in actual fact, by placing the person they are assassinating on the front page, they are giving them plenty of free publicity that the person can milk for his own benefit, even if it's only to say to a sympathetic public that they are being crucified. At least they will become household names and remembered, and that's what most of us are trying to achieve.
In order to satisfy the public's appetite to be shocked, we would dream up more and more stupid pranks and outrageous things to do, to shock our audience. The day I stripped off my shirt while on stage was a good example. Up until then, it was just not done, and so I was splashed across the front of the local newspaper. However, it was too late for the young of that town to come and see us, as we had already moved on to the next town.
We visited most of the larger towns and cities in the northern part of England and Yorkshire. However, we only played in small venues and not the larger theatres that we had all expected. Once we got over the initial disappointment, we let our hair down and got on with it, enjoying our success even if it was to a smaller audience. At least we were filling the venues. There was nothing worse than playing in a big theatre to a handful of people. After a time, it all started to blend in and at times we had no idea where we were or where we were going to next. It was only incidents that seemed to jog my memory. I'm still totally lost as to where and when they took place.
One day while we were on the road between venues, we stopped at a roadside transport café for some
food. In those days, transport cafes were the only means of refreshment while on the road, and if the car park was not full of trucks, then it meant that the food was rubbish and you did not stop. Not like today, when you are given a dainty little cup or a plastic container holding your tea, which has a silly looking teabag, containing only tea dust, draped over its side. In those days, you received a large mug full to the brim of beautiful tasting tea that had been brewed for a couple of minutes. We would couple this with a plate of bacon and eggs all smothered in a thick layer of grease, so that it slid down into your stomach all nice and smooth. The grease was then soaked up by two thick slices of toast that were in turn washed down by the mug of tea. Those places were an eater's paradise and we enjoyed its delights as a ritual every morning.
Unfortunately, the accommodation for us was appalling and at times non existent, and so we learnt to grab whatever sleep we could, and from wherever possible, even if it included the all night cafes or the back of our van. This was a way of us saving a little money, because we were expected to pay for our own nightly lodgings and food out of the £2-10s that we were earning from each show. A couple of times we talked the organisers of the venues into letting us sleep in the dressing room, so we could get an early start in the morning, driving to the next venue miles away. Alternatively, if that was not possible, we would sleep in the van parked out the back of the hall. I might add that it is not very comfortable during the cold winter months, with Dave adding a further discomfort to us all, as he was constantly passing wind all night and he always smelt foul. Therefore, we would be kept awake by his antics, followed by the succession of remarks that we all made about his well being.
If the accommodation was bad it was nothing compared with what we were expected to use as dressing rooms. Our favourite saying at the time, that we would all repeat as we walked into the next shocking dressing room, was 'Well lads, we have finally made it to the big time'. A couple of times we were expected to change in the toilets, and once out the back of the hall while it was snowing. I have often wondered what Elvis would have told the promoters if he had been with us.
The transport cafes were also where we met up other bands that were travelling the length and breadth of the country just like ourselves. Some of the bands would tell us of other well known transport cafes where bands stopped regularly and met up with each other.
One band we met up with on a couple of occasions was 'Sniff and the Snuffles', and we did not like them. They were big headed and let it be known to everybody that they were good. However, you did not have to be a rocket scientist to work out that they did not even have a record contract, and so JB let them have it with both barrels. Unfortunately, it all got very heated and out of hand and a couple of blows were exchanged, one of which caught JB on the jaw and knocked him over. Although it was all over within seconds, to JB's disgust they continued belittling him. In the end, I grabbed JB's arm and pulled him away, telling him we were about to leave.
As we walked out of the café Jeremy spotted a table near the door where six very well built army guys were enjoying a hot mug of tea. JB walked up to the servicemen and politely informed them that, while he did not wish to offend them, he felt it only right that they should know that the, group of young people sitting at the table over by the counter was telling everybody that you guys were a bunch of queers. He then left before the servicemen had time to respond to his accusation. As he walked through the door, he turned to see all six servicemen heading in the direction of the 'Sniff and the Snuffles' table. Outside, he told Dave to drive on, as he did not want to witness a murder or to get involved. I could not help laughing and telling everybody that once the servicemen started punching them on the nose, they would all have the sniffles.
They were the only group that we did not like, and from then on we gave them a wide berth. Most of the groups were good company and we all swapped ideas and stories of the venues where we played. I guess, in a way, this was just a continuation of the long drawn out apprenticeship that we were all serving.
The young of the day always moaned about serving a long five year apprenticeship in their chosen profession, when in actual fact most bands would spend twice that time trying to learn the ropes, while most would never get any further in the music industry, falling by the wayside and into obscurity, ending up as builder's labourers on the local housing projects, with only stories to tell their mates. At least they'd had a go, and there was always that slight chance that they might just have made it. Our parents used to tell us that we stood more chance winning the football pools and that had odds of 5 million to one, or so they told us.
It was also surprising that quite a few of the people attending the bookings had in actual fact seen us at Butlins, which amazed us all. After all we had all thought that Norman was dreaming when he came up with the idea. England is a big place and who was going to remember us. However, we were finally reaping the rewards of Norman's business brain while at the same time he was earning his cut of the proceeds.
At one venue, we were sitting in the dressing room, if you could call it a dressing room, a small room at the back of the stage. Most of us had a girl with us, while I had one sitting in my lap, when in walked two girls, one of whom I recognised right away, although it was not her large Bristol's that caught my eye but her face. Bristol's being the slang word for breasts, from an old sailors saying of 'Ship shape and Bristol fashion'. She had been one of the nicest girls I had been with, but had not slept with while at Butlins. How could I ever forget 'What's her name', I found myself saying jokingly, while at the same time I was clicking my fingers as if trying to remember it. We all laughed as I jumped up, brushing the girl aside from my lap, and gave her a nice big hug and kiss. The other girl had spent a night with JB and so she received the same greeting from him. After reminding me that her name was Susan, we got into a conversation as she told me what she had been up to. She also told me that she had read about us in the local newspapers and that she had never stopped thinking of me, this made me feel good, but before I could say any more we were all ordered back on stage by the MC for the night.
After the show I met up with Susan and we spent some time with each other, although we did not sleep together. There was something about her that I liked very much. I had met her on the very last night of her stay at Butlins and so we had no time to take the relationship any further. Now that I had found her once again, I wanted to be able to see more of her, but the tour was going to get in the way.
Susan was sending out the same signals to me and so we arranged that she would travel to a couple of the venues that were not too far away, so she could see me when we were in town. This was fine by me, as it would give us time to see if we could make a go of a relationship. Our tour had not been arranged so that we worked our way around the country in a nice neat pattern; instead, we criss crossed the country all over the place so that we could fit in with the venues when they had a free night. This meant that we would be in Hartlepool's on three more occasions, and then I would be able to spend some prime time with Susan. If we were lucky, we might be able to be on our own for a few hours. As I kissed her good night, I had that little twinge of something in my stomach that told me I liked her very much, and for once sex was not my priority with this girl.
As the tour progressed so did the sale of our record, surprising all of us. On one occasion when Norman turned up, he brought us confirmation that the sales figures for the month had topped ten thousand. According to him it was unheard of. He also confided in me that he was trying to manipulate the British pop charts, by fiddling the sales figures. This made me a little suspicious of his claims of ten thousand, although he crossed his heart and told me that they were genuine.
Norm, as I had started calling him, had found out where all the shops that the chart people used for their sales figures count were based. He intended buying large amounts of records from these vendors and in doing this he hoped he would be able to get the 'Convertibles' in the charts. I told h
im that he was playing with our futures and asked what would happen if he were caught. He just laughed and told me to leave it all up to him. He was going to get different people to buy half a dozen records at a time for him. He would then use these records to further promote us by giving some of them away at venues where our sales were not doing so well.
To our amazement, we were awoken one morning by Dave waving a newspaper and shouting that we had finally made it, that we were in the charts. As we all tried grabbing a corner of the newspaper, he turned to the relevant page and pointed to the number seventeen spot in the chart and there we were, 'Johnny Morris and the Convertibles', we had arrived. As far as we were concerned from now on there would be no stopping us, it was number 1 here we come.