by Hector Cook
“I took the rap for a kid named Graham … He ended up getting sent down later, and I would have gone the same way, I’m sure … I ended up with two years probation, and that put the fear of God into me. The policeman came to the door to tell me that I was under arrest and at the same time to basically say to my mother that there must be another country that you can take these children to,” he said jokingly.
The remark by the policeman was light-hearted enough but it presaged the next great adventure in the life of the Gibbs, the decision to emigrate to Australia. “It was mum and dad basically [who decided to emigrate],” said Barry. “Don’t forget that we were kids, and it was mum and dad that made all the decisions, and they were looking for a better way of life. You know, rather than sitting in the back streets of Manchester which was not all that pleasant at the best of times. That’s not really a put-down on Manchester because we love Manchester, but … at that period of time dad wasn’t earning an awful lot of money.”
Hugh Gibb has credited Barbara’s sister, Peggy, with the idea of emigrating to Australia, as she eventually did with her family, though it was Hugh’s family that arrived down under first. The decision was based largely on economics as supporting the growing family was proving increasingly difficult. “Life hadn’t been very good to them since the War,” said Barry. “Dad hadn’t been able to get very good work, and the New Life scheme came around where you could emigrate to Australia for about … £10 in those days.”
It was against this background that the Gibb family began making plans for emigration. For Hugh and Barbara Gibb, a fresh start in a new land seemed like the answer to all their problems. The idea of leaving behind the cold, damp English winters appealed to the whole family.
“What I remember vividly about Manchester is how cold the winters used to be and how the water was always freezing in the taps when you got up in the morning to go to school, and wearing shorts and not really wanting to because it was always freezing,” Barry said.
Hugh and Barbara applied for passage to Australia but did little to prepare for the move, “Because they say, ‘Don’t dispose of your property until you know what you’re doing,’” Hugh said. “Sometimes you have to wait two years, we got it in six weeks.”
Matters were complicated by the fact that Barbara was pregnant again. “I was having the baby and we had to wait until we got our papers to get on the ship you see,” Barbara added. In the event the new addition to the family, a boy they named Andrew Roy Gibb, arrived on March 5, 1958, at Stretford Memorial Hospital, Manchester. Andy’s middle name was given in honour of his uncle, Roy Gibb, Hugh’s youngest brother.
And so at the beginning of August 1958, the Gibb family, now numbering seven, set sail for Australia, leaving behind more than just a few memories. Before leaving, Barry told Kenny, “I’m never going to work for anyone else … I want to be my own boss … I’ll make it by myself, somewhere.”
Kenny requested, “When you do, don’t forget me,” to which Barry replied, “I’ll come back, I won’t forget.”
*It had previously been thought that the correct address was 261, but this conflicts with their school records, which were re-discovered in December, 1999.
*The passage of time has obviously distorted the brothers’ memories of the precise details, since none of the songs mentioned here were released before November, 1957. In January, 2000, in separate meetings with long time fan of the group, Graham R. Gooch, Paul Frost and Kenny Horrocks were happy to complete the missing gaps in the story, which actually began some weeks earlier.
*About 13 pence or 20 cents in today’s currency.
3
CHILDREN OF THE WORLD
FOR THE GIBB family, as with so many others on board, excitement mingled with apprehension as their ship, the Fairsea, run by the Italian shipping line Sitmar, began its voyage from Southampton to the other side of the world. Although making ends meet had been a constant struggle for Hugh and Barbara in both the Isle of Man and Manchester, there was no guarantee that the future would be brighter for them and their children in the new life that lay just four weeks ahead.
While five-month-old Andy slept blissfully unaware of his surroundings, Lesley, now 13, Barry, now 11, and eight-year-old twins Robin and Maurice could all let their imaginations run wild. Andy would be christened en-route while the journey presented a wonderful opportunity for his brothers to demonstrate their musical talents to an unsuspecting, but captive, audience.
That audience included two other budding musicians. Peter Watson would later form a group called MPD Ltd and would even record with the brothers on one occasion. Redmond ‘Red’ Symons, about the same age as the twins, would have to wait until the Seventies for his moments of fame when he would come to prominence as the guitarist in Skyhooks, Australia’s biggest and most outrageous band of the period. Thereafter, he would forge a successful career on Australian television. His memories of the journey include water pistol fights with Robin and Maurice, and an image of all three of them sitting in the prow of The Fairsea; Barry playing guitar and the twins singing with him. These private performances for Red would quickly develop into something more entertaining.
As Hugh Gibb explained, “We used to put them to bed because kids were supposed to be off the decks by 9.00 p.m. Then we would find a crowd had gathered and in the middle were our little boys in pyjamas singing away. It happened every night. We couldn’t do a thing about it.”
Perhaps these nocturnal performances, reputedly as ‘Barry & The Twins’, were a blessing in disguise. After all, there were no reports of mysterious fires or ship’s property going missing, and the sight of three bleary-eyed children across the breakfast table was of little concern to their parents, as was their relief at the absence of contact with the ship’s pursers. In any event, there were other distractions quite literally just over the horizon.
Had the Gibbs made the journey less than two years earlier, the Suez Canal crisis would have forced them to endure the alternative and more arduous route down the west coast of Africa and round the Cape of Good Hope, a passage not usually associated with calm waters. Instead their voyage through North Africa’s coastal waters led them to Egypt and a brief lay-over in Cairo where the opportunity arose to view one of the seven wonders of the world. The experience clearly made a lasting impression on Barry. “I think it was the journey as well. I mean we saw the Pyramids and all these exotic countries at such an early age. So we’ve always had a feeling that that’s had something to do with our songwriting you know. We drew on all of that experience when we got older.”
The second week of their journey was spent navigating the relatively narrow Red Sea where Arabia lay to port and East Africa to starboard. The Gulf of Aden lay ahead and thereafter the Arabian Sea which offered them safe passage to India, just one of the exotic countries Barry referred to.
The final leg of the journey was by way of the Indian Ocean. To their north lay Indonesia, a country the brothers would have particular cause to remember later in their careers.
A twelfth birthday is not necessarily a landmark occasion but for Barry Gibb it was his first day on Australian soil. The ship finally reached Perth on September 1, by which time Maurice’s health was in a very poor state. Nowadays the journey can be made by plane in less than a day, but travellers experience jet lag (Perth is eight hours ahead of British time) and a temporary difficulty in acclimatising to the increase in temperature. There were no such difficulties for those who disembarked – four weeks on the ship had enabled them to gradually adjust to both factors. The weather on that first day was more typical of what they had left behind, with rain sweeping the boat and visibility poor. The boys were still excited, although Maurice definitely recalls feeling let down as the family took their first steps on Australian soil. “All we knew of Australia was kangaroos and koala bears, and we expected to see them going down the main streets of Perth,” he mused, “and aborigines running everywhere, [but] it was a big city.” Although Maurice remembers the
ir point of disembarkation as Perth, the Fairsea continued on to Melbourne, then Sydney, where it would have made more sense for the family to get off.
By whatever means they arrived there, the Gibb family settled in Redcliffe which overlooks Moreton Bay, to the north of Brisbane on Australia’s east coast. This was in Queensland, the Australian equivalent of Florida, which was known as “The Sunshine State”. Here Hugh found work as a “bush photographer” – a job description which has been an endless source of schoolboy-type humour for the brothers ever since.
“[Dad] used to go out into the small towns and photograph people’s families,” Robin explained.
“That’s right, people who had never even seen a camera,” Barry agreed, if somewhat inaccurately, as Australia was far from an undeveloped country by then.
Maurice could even remember “the caravan where they developed their own film. They would shoot pictures of people and their families,” he continued, “where they wouldn’t go to a local chemist because they couldn’t send it off to get fully developed.”
It quickly became apparent to Hugh and Barbara that Redcliffe was an ideal place to bring up their children. They would move houses many times in a short period but, initially, they would remain in either Scarborough or Margate, the two districts that form the Redcliffe area. The Gibbs made their first home at 394 Oxley Avenue with all three boys attending Scarborough State School. While Barry was noted as ‘Barrie’, the enrolment records for February 12, 1959, do correctly note their dates of birth although a curious inaccuracy would appear on future occasions. The assisted passage scheme meant that many families were going through the same process at that time. Timothy, Pamela and Susan Wheatley had all enrolled the previous day and some or all may have made friends with the brothers.
Hugh’s photography assignments were not as frequent as he would have liked, so he took on extra work for the Scarborough local council. By this time, they also had their own transportation in the form of a station-wagon which their father had purchased from a Mr Pepper. Hugh took the twins with him when he went to buy it, but their appearance failed to impress the vendor. His daughter Karen can still recall him telling her, “They were the ugliest kids I’ve ever seen!”
Although Brisbane was Australia’s third largest city behind Sydney and Melbourne, it was somewhat in need of modernisation and was said to be five years behind the rest of the country. However, it did have certain facilities that only a large city could provide.
One benefit was the proximity of radio stations and it was only a matter of months before three young voices attributed to ‘The Gibb Brothers’ were heard harmonising on Talent Quest, an aptly named show, broadcast by 4KQ. Ever keen to develop that talent, the brothers shunned the usual activities of boys of that age, preferring instead to exercise their lungs in a more coordinated fashion. “All we wanted to do was sing,” explains Barry. “We used to organise little concert parties for our friends. Times were pretty hard for us then because our dad was travelling round the country.” Given the choice, the brothers would seek to perform for their playmates, but that choice was not always theirs to make as their school sports teacher promoted the belief that being proficient in physical pursuits would stand you in good stead in Australia’s predominantly masculine environment. For Barry, it wasn’t a particularly pleasant experience. “I used to get killed,” he said. “We ran around in bare feet and built up big calluses on our feet.”
Robin and Maurice didn’t play. “But we were always hit by the ball when Barry was kicking it around.”
Another advantage of city dwelling was the speedway, the increasingly popular sport of motorbike racing, which was held at the nearby Redcliffe Speedway Circus. Barry and his pal Ken Griggs used to go to the Speedway every Saturday night to sell Coke and Fanta. Even now, Ken can remember the fine details as if it were yesterday. “We would each grab a case, with a strap around our shoulders, and walk around selling them. Then we came up with a better idea.”
Ever the opportunist, Barry noticed that there were often lengthy gaps between the races and came up with an idea to fill them. Ken continued, “We would grab a few cases at the interval and set up a little stall under the grandstand. Barry and the twins would sing, and I would do the selling. People would stop to watch the singing and we’d get quite a crowd and sell the drinks. It went quite well, much better than walking around selling! Eventually Bill Goode noticed the singing, and they got to sing at the microphone and that’s how it all began.”
“I happened to be rushing around the pits, organising motorcycles for the first event after the interval,” is how Bill Goode himself remembers things. “I heard the kids singing, and the absolutely beautiful harmony of the voices just made me stop dead in my tracks, and I said, ‘Holy smokes, this is good!’ ”
Brisbane disc jockey Bill Gates takes up the story. “One night I was driving a race car in a charity meeting at the Redcliffe speedway, which was run by a guy called Bill Goode, who now owns the most successful speedway complex in Queensland. Bill introduced me to a youngster named Barry Gibb and his buck toothed twin brothers, who said they were singers. Bill Goode arranged for them to sing a few songs on the public address system during the intervals between races and that’s when I first heard them. Even under such primitive conditions their sound was remarkable.”
Their father Hugh also had fond, if slightly different, memories of the occasion. “They have what the Australians call duals – stadiums with a speedway track around the side – miniature Wembleys.* We found out that the boys were going over to one, and they put a microphone up for them, and they were singing for the crowd in between races … This was the beginning of how they were christened. The organiser was named Bill Goode – the first B.G. He popped his head out and at first he wondered what all the fuss was about, so he came out of his office and saw these three young kids singing. He was so knocked out that he introduced us to a Brisbane disc jockey whose name was Bill Gates – another B.G. In those days the name was just the two initials, B.G., then it was elongated to Bee Gees.”
Bill Gates continued. “The actual naming of the group took place at the Redcliffe Speedway. Barry pointed out that his initials, Bill Goode’s and mine were all B.G. so the name ‘B.G.s’ almost wrote itself.”
Explaining the original shortened form, Barry said, “Initials were ‘in’, like dj.” The naming process left out the twins initials but, at their young age,
Their unofficial mini-concerts also helped to supplement the brothers’ pocket money, Maurice remembered. “We still weren’t working professionally, being managed by our father, and they [the two Bills] got us jobs between the races at a speedway track; not during the races of course otherwise you wouldn’t have heard us. So people threw money on the track and we’d run over and grab it, once again between the races, not during them!”
“We just sang for the love of it,” Barry recalled, “but the crowd threw us coins and we usually went home with our pockets bulging with about £3 worth.”
By now the family were living at 12 Fifth Avenue in Scarborough. The house remains much as it was then and, when up for sale in 1999, even had a “Bee Gees Place” wooden sign hanging from the very same sprawling tree they used to play in.
It wasn’t long before they were on the move again though, travelling the short distance to the adjacent district of Margate. Here they resided at the Orient House Flats, on The Esplanade, just a 10 minute walk from Humpybong State School, where Lesley and her brothers again made new friends. Another student at Humpybong State School was a very young Colin Peterson who was in the same class as Barry. The paths of Colin and the Gibb brothers would cross again on further occasions.
‘Humpybong’ is the original aboriginal name for Redcliffe, home for Queensland’s first European settlers in 1824. The name certainly conjures more pleasant images than its literal translation, ‘deserted huts’, taken from the Aboriginal words ‘oompy bong’. Nowadays, Redcliffe is a thriving community with a popul
ation in excess of 60,000. The area obviously made a tremendous impression on Barry in particular as the following letter written by him on July 9, 1999 for The Redcliffe Museum reveals:
If you ask me about Redcliffe I could tell you a hundred stories about my life here in this wonderful place.
As a 12 year old emigrant, I was a stranger in a strange land, from England where we came to live without any real idea of where we were going, Mum and Dad and us five kids in search of a ‘new life’, and we found ourselves here in paradise.
It was 1958 and Johnny O’Keefe was singing ‘Shout’ on the radio and Col [Joye] was singing ‘Bye Bye Baby’ and Johnny Cash was singing ‘Teenage Queen’.
And I was there when Princess Alexandra visited Scarborough State School and we all sang ‘Life Is Great In The Sunshine State’ in our khaki shorts and bare feet, and it was a wonderful tropical existence that I re-live over and over in my heart and mind. ‘Humpybong State School’ and swimming at 7.00 a.m. every morning off the dock on Deception Bay, fishing for that tiger shark off Redcliffe Pier at night, only to be disappointed with that two foot grey nurse at 7.00 in the morning. Playing between the fishing boats when the tide was out at night. Listening to the insects while sleeping beneath white mosquito nets, eating fruit from the trees, singing and playing on the beach on those soft warm summer nights.
Thank God I will always be 12. This incredible place was ours, our world, ours to explore. Very little has been written about these times, but I was there with my brothers and our family, and this was to be our home. It is held in time deep inside my soul. It will always be 1958 for me.
The Saturday afternoon matinee at the theatre at the top of the hill was something we never missed. The 4KQ talent quest we never won, the Saturday night dance which always ended with a pie floating in peas from the pie cart across the road.