by Hector Cook
Barry spent the next 30 minutes chatting away with Ann, explaining his English background and how he and his brothers were going to make it big in the music business. They even shared a dance together before Barry went back on stage to continue performing with his younger brothers.
But that wasn’t the end of things and the pair became particularly close over the next couple of years and saw each other as often as the BGs’ schedule would allow. They were introduced to all the members of each other’s family; Barry to her parents, brother Brian and sisters Pamela and Susan – Ann to the other six members of the Gibb clan. On occasion, sleeping in Lesley’s bedroom, she was even permitted to stay overnight at the Gibb’s family home, first in Kallangur, an inland town to the north of Brisbane, and then in Nundah, situated near the city’s airport. They would keep in touch on the phone a couple of times each week and meet up on Saturdays, Barry greeting her at the train station before they would head off to the nearby Nundah picture theatre, often accompanied by the twins. Ann especially remembers one afternoon when Robin, without Maurice for once, seemed upset.
“What’s wrong?” she asked him.
“All the girls like Maurice more than me,” he confided before tears began to trickle down his cheek.
Putting her arm around the distraught youngster, she reassured him, “These girls don’t know what they’re missing out on,” as Barry grinned quietly in the background.
A typical Saturday evening would see all four boys and Ann descend into the makeshift studio in their den under the house of the Gibb’s home while Barbara prepared dinner. Barry would pull out the notebook he took everywhere, hum and sing a few lines from his latest song. Maurice and Robin would join in as Ann bounced baby Andy on her knee, keeping time with the rhythm of the tune. Later, once his younger brothers had gone off to bed, Ann and Barry would steal a kiss before Ann retired to Lesley’s room for the night.
On the Sunday Barbara and Hugh would drive Ann home and once, to Ann’s total embarrassment, Barbara casually mentioned to her husband, “You should have seen Barry and Ann on the couch kissing – just like two lovebirds!” Ann visibly shrunk in the back of the car. She’d thought that no one had seen them the previous night.
Illustrating the depth of his feelings, the normally private Barry shared many of his secret thoughts with Ann, even showing her the scars on his chest from the early incident on the Isle of Man when he had pulled the pot of scalding tea over himself. However, he had another love in his life, which was to cause the break-up of their relationship.
* * *
Boxing Day, December 26, is traditionally a day of rest when families can recover from the excesses of food and drink consumed the day before. In 1960 however, the young Gibbs were using their school holidays to expand their repertoire to include a new activity … pantomime. Jack And The Beanstalk opened at the Rialto Theatre in Sydney that afternoon and the boys were the undoubted stars of the show. For the next two weeks, the show played twice daily, at 10.15 a.m. and 2.15 p.m., to seats filled with enthusiastic children and parents. When schools reopened, they returned to their usual routine of grabbing one-off gigs wherever Hugh could book them and countless miles were clocked up during 1961 as they continued to travel the length and breadth of Queensland in their search for new and appreciative audiences.
Now living in Cribb Island, a suburb east of Brisbane and part of the current site of Brisbane International Airport, the brothers were even said to have run their own “ham” radio station. But other things were occupying their parents’ minds. Barbara and Hugh knew that a landmark in the life of their eldest son had been reached when Barry turned 15 and left Cribb Island State School. He now had to find employment but his first attempt did not fare well. “I never had much of an education and my first job was carting things about for a tailor. I got sacked from that job because I forgot to hand some money in one morning. I really forgot it, but the tailor thought I had nicked it so that was that.”
Shortly thereafter, Barry signed a “composer’s agreement,” another name for a publishing contract, with Belinda Music for a five-year period. At the time, Belinda was very active signing up home-grown talent such as Lonnie Lee and Johnny Devlin. Tony Brady, who brought Barry down to Sydney to put pen to paper, said, “[Belinda] had heard about him even then as Barry was an amazingly quick songwriter.” Barry found himself under the management of one Norman Whiteley who had left the UK on contract for Jean Aberbach of Hill & Range Songs. The choice of publisher was probably more than just a coincidence, as Norman and Hugh had known each other since the Thirties when they were both playing the Manchester band circuit, Hugh on drums and Norman on piano.
Another piece of good fortune wasn’t far away, about an hour’s drive to be precise. “We got a break when we moved to a place called Surfers’ Paradise, which is [60 miles south of] Brisbane,” Robin recalled. The Gold Coast, a 20 mile coastline filled with hotels and clubs, is the ideal place for any manager looking to find regular bookings for his clients. Enjoying bright sunshine for nine months of the year, its centre is Surfers’ Paradise; a four mile stretch between the surf beach and the Nerang River. “The three of us played Surfers’ Paradise at the Beachcomber Hotel for six weeks, six shows a night,” Robin continued.
“Surfers’ Paradise is an Australian-style Honolulu, an incredible place where it’s hot all the time,” Barry confirmed, fondly recalling happy times at their Cambridge Avenue home. The old block of flats also holds pleasant memories for the Lane family, and two of them in particular.
Diana Murphy, née Lane, was just 12 years of age when she met 11-year-old Maurice Gibb at one of those early Bee Gees performances. “They were wearing their little tartan vests and singing at the Church Of England Hall in Hamilton Avenue in the Broadbeach suburb of Surfers’ Paradise,” she recalled. “In fact, I eventually got married in that same church hall!” she exclaimed. After the Gibbs’ performance, Maurice asked her for a dance and they later went for a coffee at the Blue Danube Restaurant in Surfers’.
Diana’s sister, Pamela Buhner, née Lane, also well remembers that evening because, while Diana and Maurice were off having coffee, she was sharing a kiss with Robin under the carport! “I got the kiss off Robin which made this relationship with his family happen. They were a great family, full of tricks and jokes. They loved to play around all the time, and laugh and laugh.” Pam also remembers four-year-old Andy, whom she described as “gorgeous, just like Barry.”
Although Pam and Robin didn’t go steady, Maurice was quite taken with Diana and followed up the coffee by taking her to see Love Is A Many Splendored Thing – starring William Holden and Jennifer Jones – at the local Surfers’ picture theatre. Diana also remembers that Maurice gave her lots of little gifts including a Box Brownie camera and a guitar pick, and can also recall swimming with him in the pool of Lennon’s Broadbeach Hotel.
She also recalls that even though the Gibbs had left Brisbane, they still went back the following Easter to again take part in the EKKA Exhibition where this time Lesley participated as a go-go dancer.
Both Pam and Diana hung around with the Gibbs quite a bit during this time. On one occasion, at Maurice’s request, the Gibb family took Diana to Brisbane for a Bee Gees concert at The Festival Hall but forgot about her in the confusion after the show. Diana’s parents had to get the only taxi driver in Surfers’ at the time to go and pick her up. It cost Mrs. Lane £10 to get her daughter back, and that was not cheap in those days. Later, when the Gibbs moved away from Surfers’ Paradise, Diana spent a week visiting with the family in Sydney, but thereafter her little romance with Maurice fizzled out, and life moved on for both.
The Bee Gees were such a success that their residency period at the Beachcomber Hotel was indefinitely extended and they continued to perform in the hotel’s nightclub for 18 months. They would perform additional one-off shows at other local venues like The Garden Paradise Hotel, right in the centre of the town, which is now a Hard Rock Café.
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nbsp; Their success was due in no small part to Hugh’s knowledge of what their public desired of them. “My father knew exactly what those audiences wanted,” Maurice admitted. “If we were cute little kids, any bit of comedy would have them laughing their heads off … I was always the one who got suckered, always the straight man. Robin was the funny one, the cheeky little cute look. Barry was the older brother, looking after us. It was always visual comedy. Sort of like Abbott & Costello.”
Barry continued, “We sang all sorts of material, from ‘My Old Man’s A Dustman’ to Ray Charles’ ‘What’d I Say’. Big artists would come to top the bill but we were so young and sweet that we were doing great and killing their acts.” Although he undoubtedly relished the applause, there was also sadness in Barry’s heart.
Deep down, Ann Blackmore had always known that the day would come when Barry must leave Brisbane to pursue his dreams but he promised to write often. For over a year, his letters dropped through her mail-box every second day. “My dearest Ann … I don’t know why you should doubt my feelings. I told you how I felt about you the day I went away. I still feel that way and I always will,” he wrote. “Remember how much I love you every time some boy makes eyes at you.” He ended with, “All my love for you now. Yours forever, Barry.”
There can be no doubting the sincerity of Barry’s words. In 1990, in an interview with Australian Playboy magazine, he revealed, “I like music that moves you emotionally, music where if you’re in pain, it works for you. The first record I bought was ‘Crying’ by Roy Orbison, and that destroyed me. I bought it because I was in love at the time and that record applied to every part of me. I figured, ‘There’s a guy who’s writing for people, who’s writing for emotions.’” Given that ‘Crying’ was released towards the end of 1961, it is possible to appreciate the circumstances that led Barry to attempt to gain solace from the knowledge that someone else could also understand his pain.
It would be easy to assume that Ann was the girl in Barry’s thoughts were it not for Lesley’s own recollection of the period just seven years later. In a magazine article she stated that Barry’s first girlfriend was Theresa, a small slight girl who adored Barry and would often go to Lesley in tears to express a desire to run away from home and move in with the Gibbs. She would write Barry little love letters but, according to Lesley, these were received with indifference by Barry, who was apparently relieved when Theresa’s parents moved house, taking their besotted daughter with them.
It is difficult to know what to make of all this. The events were relatively fresh in Lesley’s memory at the time of the article, although she may have got the names confused in which case the conflict between the two stories can be explained by differing perspectives. A naturally shy Barry may also have concealed the extent of his feelings in front of his family. Alternatively, by his own admission, Barry confessed to having several girlfriends on the go at the same time during his adolescence.
“When I was about 15 or 16, I got myself engaged to about six girls at one time. My sex life was amazing for about six months until they all found out.” Asked nowadays how he achieved this feat, the former lothario flippantly replied, “I had a bike!”
Gradually, the frequency of Barry’s letters to Ann ceased as the couple lost contact but their paths would cross again a couple of years later. Then 17, Ann was working in Brisbane when she suddenly saw a familiar figure standing in the doorway of the city’s Festival Hall.
“Ann!” Barry cried with undisguised glee. They quickly hugged and Barry took her in to allow the rest of the family to share in his delight. “You’ve got to come back and see the show,” Barry insisted and gave Ann tickets. Although they met for coffee after the performance and corresponded again for a while, the group’s hectic lifestyle meant they would never be able to build on their early relationship.
Ann seems to have no regrets. “I feel privileged to have known them before they were big. They were good people then and they still are. They really do deserve their success and I have such sweet memories.”
This would not be the first time that a Gibb would discover that the price of fame can sometimes prove to be very high indeed.
*England’s national soccer stadium. they were doing little more than singing along. Later, as their involvement increased, the name was recast to mean Brothers Gibb.
*An interesting aside to this story is that photographic evidence exists of a meeting around this time between the brothers and renowned English singer/actor Tommy Steele. Rumours have long persisted that Tommy’s version of ‘Let Me Love You’ lies unreleased in the depths of Decca’s record vaults but, to date, these remain unsubstantiated.
4
TAKE HOLD OF THAT STAR
AS WITH ALL long careers, the Bee Gees’ career encompasses many highs and lows with certain years more readily identifiable than others as particularly significant. 1962 is not readily associated with their success but, in its own way, it offered the three brothers as big a launching pad as at any time in their lives.
For Barry Gibb, one particular September’s day of that year remains as clear in his mind as if it were yesterday. “We were in Surfers’ Paradise doing these shows and on the road, coming into Surfers’ Paradise to do one show, right opposite where we lived, was Australia’s biggest pop star, Col Joye and his brother Kevin Jacobsen.” This was too good a chance to miss and Barry was quick to seize the initiative.
Born Colin Frederick Jacobson on April 13, 1937, Col Joye grew up in Sydney, forming a band with his brother Kevin and some friends who played in a few small clubs. By the mid-Fifties he had his own band called The Joy Boys and, together with Sydney singer Johnny O’Keefe, they were the stars of Australia’s fledgling rock’n’roll business. Between 1959 and 1963 Col had 10 Top 10 records including four number ones and toured regularly to packed audiences.
While Col was the star of the show, his brother Kevin had the business acumen to steer the band through the pitfalls of the notoriously shaky pop business. It was while on a mini-tour of Australia, performing on Queensland’s Gold Coast in 1962, that the Jacobsen brothers first met Barry Gibb. “[Col Joye] happened to be rehearsing no more than 100 yards from our house, in a hall for his show,” Barry recalled.
“We thought, ‘This is the next step. If we can meet this guy, we can sell him a song and we’re on our way.’ We all talked about it, but nobody would go over and say ‘hello’. So I said, ‘I’m going. It’s the only chance we’ve got.’ I said to this man that I would like to meet with Col Joye. What I didn’t know was that I was speaking to Kevin Jacobsen, Col’s brother. Kevin replied, ‘Hang around for a minute; Col is on his way out.’ Col came through, and I said, ‘I’d like to sing you some of the songs we’ve written with a view to you recording them if possible.’ He said, ‘Oh sure.’ I couldn’t believe it. [When] we played for him, he wasn’t totally knocked out by the material as much as he was mesmerised by the way we were singing and harmonising at that age.”
Col’s own recollection of events is that he was assailed at a party by a very determined Hugh Gibb demanding that Joye listen to his sons. Unable to hear them properly, Col invited the boys to attend the local church hall the following day where they played the songs to him using gear set up for Col’s own show. As he remembers it, “In come these three kids with their little shirts with these little felt badges that said BG. I’ve still got the original tape where he says, ‘My name is Barry Gibb, I live at 23 Cambridge Avenue, Surfer’s Paradise. My first song is ‘Let Me Love You’ ’ … and they had these magic harmonies.”
Whichever version of events is the more accurate is irrelevant. What mattered more is that they did well, much to Barry’s surprise considering that, “We were shivering like leaves because he was such a big star!”
Col was so amazed by the distinctive vocal blend and original songs that he gave a tape of the entire proceedings to younger brother Kevin. Col still has the original tape in his possession.
Both the Jacobsens li
ked what they heard but they impressed on the Gibbs that Sydney was where the music scene was centred and that the boys would stand a far better chance of being successful if they moved south. Col even went further, suggesting that the Gibbs’ relocation to Sydney would allow him and Kevin to become their agents with a view to gaining them a recording contract. Hugh agreed with the suggestion. “Surfers’ is marvellous,” he stated, “but there you can go so far in the entertainment world and no further.”
Barry remembers that the clincher came while performing one evening. “While we were playing, a guy from Sydney came up and said we were great and that we’d make a fortune working in the Sydney clubs. So off we went.”
In 1962 making records was the ‘Golden Ring’ as far as The Bee Gees were concerned and that was all they wanted to hear. Certainly the family were now so used to moving that another upheaval was less of a problem than it might have been for others in a similar situation. So the shift 500 miles south was completed in January 1963. Their first home, named ‘Swingin’ House’, was at 23 Colin Street in Sydney’s suburb of Lakemba. Here, with the help of Lesley’s fiancé – comedian-compere Alan Curtis – they created a rehearsal room, complete with stereo tape recorder, out of an old tin shed. They also had a mock-up TV studio under the house and used their own movie camera and projector to indulge in their hobby of ‘Goon’ film-making, writing crazy scripts and acting them. The set-up was similar to the one in their Nundah home in Brisbane where they had made a Goon version of African Queen. Now, in their spare time, they were working on a short horror film.
Curtis had once shared the same bill with Lesley’s brothers and Bruce Sacre at The Hotel Grande where posters had pronounced that the BGs were “Back again – you asked for them!” Now a member of the household, he commented on the usual hive of activity by saying, “Generally most of us are practising. It’s nothing to have three radios going at once, the TV on, two guitars playing.”