by Mick Bonham
Led Zeppelin started that second tour of Europe in the first week of June in Copenhagen, Denmark. The 25th and final date of the tour was at Milan’s Vigorelli Velodrome on 5 July. Sadly that would end in total disaster as heavy-handed police fired tear gas into the audience every time they stood up to cheer. Eventually the crowd fought back. The police retaliated by bombarding them with tear gas and the band had to escape down a tunnel and lock themselves in the dressing room. When they were finally allowed back out they found the stage wrecked and all the equipment destroyed. John’s drum technician Mick Hinton had stayed behind in an attempt to save some gear but ended up being taken to hospital with bad cuts to his head from a broken bottle. A very subdued Led Zeppelin flew back to England.
With hardly any respite, the group played two warm-up shows at the Casino in Montreaux, Switzerland, before undertaking a 22-date tour of North America. After the last concert in Honolulu the band holidayed in Hawaii, relaxing in the knowledge that they had just grossed over $1million. Surely they were the biggest band in the world?
From there it was on to their first ever tour of Japan, during which they played a charity concert in Hiroshima for the victims of the atomic bomb. Afterwards the Mayor of Hiroshima presented the band with a letter of appreciation and the city peace medal. I recall a highly amusing anecdote John told me from the tour. At one of the gigs, a young Japanese lad was to introduce the band but was having a bit of a problem pronouncing the band’s name. When John arrived in the dressing room the poor chap was sat in front of the mirror repeating the name over and over again.
“Red Leppelin. No. Led Reppelin. No.”
Each time he got it wrong he became more and more angry. With less than half an hour to go before showtime he finally and triumphantly got it right.
‘Another achievement John didn’t mention was their ability to re-arrange several hotel rooms using Samurai swords. That, along with other antics, saw Led Zeppelin banned from the Tokyo Hilton. For life.’
“Led Zeppelin,” he chirped, jumping for joy. And with the show finally upon them so the young man took his position to announce to the waiting crowd…
“Ladies and gentlemen, Red Repperin! Arrgghhh!”
OSAKA, JAPAN, 29 September.
During the acoustic set, the band noticed that Bonzo had disappeared. Robert decided to talk a little more in hope that John would return.
“Where’s Bonzo… Bonzoooo. Mr Bonham. Come on, shout after three – Mr Bonhammmmmmmm”. Jimmy started laughing. The audience continued shouting and applauding for John. From Robert’s tone, you could tell he was starting to get annoyed. Swearing both at the road crew and the audience, he says, “What can you say, Mr Bonham goes to the bar with the geisha girl.”
They play ‘That’s The Way’. John still hasn’t appeared. After a few more shouts from Robert and the audience, he finally turns up to applause and loud cheers. The fact is that John (together with the rest of the band) had the worst case of diarrhoea. The rest of the concert continued as scheduled, but the toilet was in charge of John, even as they headed home.
“It was a fantastic place to play,” John remembered. “Rock music only started to really happen there a few years ago, but it’s now the second biggest market in the world. The people were so friendly and we had the best rock promoter in the world there looking after us. It turned out the ‘Immigrant Song’ is one of our biggest favourites in Japan, and it’s the number we always open with. So the audiences were going potty right from the start.”
Another achievement John didn’t mention was their ability to re-arrange several hotel rooms using Samurai swords. That, along with other antics, saw Led Zeppelin banned from the Tokyo Hilton. For life.
Towards the end of the year, to coincide with the release of the fourth album, the band undertook another tour of Britain. As Messrs, Page, Plant, Jones and Bonham traversed the motorways of England, so did I. The only difference was that I was doing it in an old box van, working for a haulage company from Redditch. On 27 November I joined up with John and we headed north to Preston, where the band were appearing at the Town Hall.
I watched the show perched on the stairs leading to the stage and, as the performance reached its climax, Mick Hinton came over and said that John wanted a pint of mild and wanted me to fetch it for him. When I returned from the bar I was instructed to take it over to the side of the drum kit. I crouched down and tried to get there without being noticed, before trying to place the beer near John from behind a speaker cabinet. Like lightening John grabbed my arm, pointed to a set of congas behind his kit and shouted “Play them”. Before I could reply “How?” the opening riff for ‘Whole Lotta Love’ had kicked in. So there I was stranded and thinking how not to look like a prat, so I started to play. Though I say so myself, I thought I was doing okay. Okay until I looked up and saw a sea of faces looking back at me. At this moment my arms went into overdrive and my legs decided they weren’t with me and wanted to leave. As the number came to a close all I could think of was getting the hell off that stage, but John and Robert had other ideas, escorting me to the front of the stage to take a bow alongside Jimmy and John Paul. After beating a hasty retreat to the bar, John looked at me while I was still visibly shaken, grinned and said, “Good, ain’t it!”
Although scared shitless, that night would remain one of the great memories of my life. The down side of this event was that it was an extra date added on after the original tour dates had been confirmed, so the gig was never written about and there were no photos, and to make things worse, it was about the only gig not to be recorded on bootleg. So if there is anyone out there who was at that gig with a camera and has a photo of me stood alongside ‘our kid’ and the rest of the band, can you please send me one?
A few days later, while trying to get my old box van round the streets of Leeds with Bob Atcheson as copilot, we decided to take a small detour to see Zep play in Manchester at the Belle View. The evening was going really well until I realised the show was almost over and I remembered what had happened in Preston. This time the legs won and I was off and didn’t stop until I was firmly locked inside one of the venue’s toilet cubicles. I finally resurfaced when I heard the music finish and the crowd roar. Of course, I hadn’t anticipated the fact that as I’d be trying to make my way backstage, thousands of people would be walking in the opposite direction. By the time I arrived Mick Hinton informed me that John was already on his way back to the Elbow Room in Brum and was a little miffed that I hadn’t got up to do the number. If that wasn’t bad enough, bloody Bob had gone with him, along with the keys to my van and all my money. Luckily for me, Robert lent me £10 on the agreement that, “If you spend it, okay, but if you don’t, give it back!” Obviously spending it was foremost on my mind, so I checked into a nice hotel and the following day purchased Van Morrison’s ‘Moondance’ and ‘Tupelo Honey’. Ta Robert. Sorted!
It was a shame that the only person to suffer through this crisis would be Mathew, who had been dispatched, post haste, back to Manchester to return the keys and would have to sleep in the car and await my return the next day. Thanks mate.
In February of 1972 Led Zeppelin embarked on their one and only tour of Australia and New Zealand, playing to sell-out crowds in Perth, Adelaide, Melbourne, Auckland, Sydney and finishing in Brisbane.
“I remember a nice thing I did with Bonzo when we were coming back from Australia,” recalls John Paul Jones. “We had played Sydney and a few other places and then we had to catch a plane from Brisbane to Sydney and then fly from Sydney straight back to England. The plane was very early in the morning, we had stayed up all night. I don’t know where the others were but Bonzo and I ended up in a bar with all these Fijians. They looked like a sort of rugby team and they were all lounging about obviously waiting for the same plane. So we started chatting and drinking and it turned out they were the Fijian Police Choir, who had also just done a gig in Brisbane. After a couple more drinks, of course music came up and they started singing
for us. There’s me and Bonzo sitting there, beers all around us and there’s six or seven of them, big buggers they were, and they start the sweetest singing. All these beautiful old Fijian songs. It was lovely stuff and we all sat around having a great time. Then they told us it was our turn.
“I said ‘Hold on, he’s a drummer and I’m a bass player.’
“They said ‘Well, you must be able to sing something.’
“So Bonzo and I looked at each other and thought ‘Ah, I know’ and we went through half the 1959 Everly’s repertoire. We did ‘Love Hurts’, ‘So Sad’, ‘Dream’ and we did ‘Wake Up Little Susie’. It was hilarious serenading the Fijian Police Choir with Everly Brothers songs. It had been a great night and as we parted they gave us presents of necklaces and Koweri shells.”
It was also during this tour that John met up with Mum’s sister Aunt Dorothy, who he had not seen for nearly 15 years after she’d emigrated to New Zealand in the late 50s. They caught up with each other at the gig in Auckland and he gave her the Gold LP for ‘Led Zeppelin’, he’d received for Australian sales.
(Interview with Chris Welch at time of Zep IV release.)
Chapter 13
THE SEARCH FOR THE OLD HYDE
During the breaks of ’72 John was on the look out for a new home. Somewhere in the country, and with a fair bit of land. On several occasions Jacko and I went with him to look over some of the properties, and eventually he found what he was looking for; The Old Hyde Farm, situated in Cutnall Green, Worcestershire. Perched on top of a hill overlooking the Worcestershire countryside, John had visualised what he wanted to do with the place. The house would be virtually knocked down and then rebuilt to about twice the size, but most importantly, the farm would be developed and would become workable once more. Jacko was to oversee the project and do all the carpentry and was also to put a team together to do all the work needed to complete the building. A friend of Jacko’s, Stan Blick, was brought in to do all the brickwork with his son Pete and the first job was to repair all the farm buildings and renew the cottage, so a farm manager could move in and start to get things back in order. It would take just over two years to complete and would be the subject of more than one humorous occurrence. But it would also preside over two very sad incidents.
Also purchased at this time was The Boston Strangler, a hot rod that had once belonged to Jeff Beck. It was a Model T Ford powered by a bloody big engine, and owing to the lack of silencers sounded like a den of lions fighting over breakfast. On one of the early outings for the rod John and I took it for a spin down the Hagley Road to the Bromsgrove dual carriageway, which was a perfect test track for all new motors, and were suddenly surrounded by about 20 large blokes on even larger motorbikes. As they pulled alongside I saw John make a quick sign of the cross on his chest and shoot me a look that said ‘We’re gonna get our arses kicked here’, but at that very moment, their leader raised his fist in the air and shouted “Great motor Bonzo” and they all sped away. Thank God for recognition! Within ten minutes we were involved in another fracas, when a car full of loud lads drove past hurling abuse at us. The final straw came when one of the idiots shouted, “Who sold you that? Mickey Mouse?” John rammed the gear stick down a gear or two and banged the accelerator to the floor. With an explosion of sound the front wheels leaped off the ground and The Boston Strangler leapt into action. Ooooh shit! As we went past the offending motor like a bat out of hell, the impact caused such a panic that they ended up on the central reservation, and that’s where we left them.
Above
John Bonham escaping from the pressures of touring at the helm of The Staysea
Above
Cigarette, cigar and beer, Bonham winds down
Whether it was the childhood memories of Jacko’s boat, or the fact that The Old Hyde was only five miles from Stourport-on-Severn, in April he took delivery of The Staysea, a 34-feet sea-going cabin cruiser that was to be moored in Stourport. After a couple of days of cleaning and getting the boat spotless, John decided that a cruise down the river was in order. Large quantities of food and Newcastle Brown Ale were stowed away and John, Mathew and I set off down the river to Worcester. With memories of Jerome K Jerome’s famous tale of ‘Three Men in a Boat’ running riot in my head we approached the first lock on the river. Unfortunately for us, any further thoughts of the tales of the nineteenth century author were curtailed because the lock keeper disputed ownership of the boat and wouldn’t let us through. In the end we had to make do with a cruise up and down a three-mile stretch of the river until all the provisions had been disposed of.
That short break well and truly over, John returned to the studio in May and began an eighth American tour in June. A second tour of Japan, the Tokyo Hilton notwithstanding, followed in October, and then two quick shows in Montreaux before a triumphant Led Zeppelin returned to undertake their largest ever tour of Britain. Eighteen different venues and 120,000 tickets would sell out in one day.
Chapter 14
ZEPPELIN TAKE TRENTHAM GARDENS
“I’m still the same person. I enjoy decorating and gardening, and I’m still as hot-headed as ever. I’m a bit quick tempered. I never sit down and think about things. I couldn’t do what Jimmy does and shut myself away in the country.
I like people around me all the time. Parties, going out and general looning. I suppose I’m a bit of a noisy person. In fact I’m probably the noisiest of the four of us.”
– John Bonham
John had chosen a beautiful position for his new home, The Old Hyde Farm. Set on the brow of a hill overlooking the village, the main house and the farm buildings needed a great deal of renovation and construction work. That wasn’t a problem. John got down to designing it with a little help from Jacko (“You can’t bloody do that there, the whole lot will bloody fall down.”) and a lovely young architect called Grace Plant (“Yes John, that’s no problem, if that’s what you want we can do it.”), the plans soon came together and work was well under way. Having Grace around added a touch of glamour to the site, and, as you can imagine, none of us blokes were about to complain. Anyway, it was sort of keeping it in the family as Grace was married to one of Robert’s cousins, Malcolm, who was an insurance salesman and guess what? He supplied us with all the insurance we needed.
John wanted the farm cottage and outbuildings to be finished first, so that the farm could be up and running as soon as possible. He wanted to rear a pedigree herd of Hereford cattle, better known as ‘Herfuds’ to us country ass boys. To achieve this, he needed a farm manager, barns, stables and other assorted buildings, which is why Jacko and I were out in the bloody cold, renewing the old farm buildings. John tried to spend as many hours during the day as he could with us whilst work was in progress. Inevitably, however, the hours started to dwindle and it wasn’t long before John’s visits were only fleeting. The reason? Led Zeppelin were on their sixth UK tour.
It had started at the end of November 1972 and now, two months later in January the following year, the band was half way through.
On this particular night they were playing in Stoke-on-Trent, just north of Birmingham, at a place called Trentham Gardens. John had popped in to see if Jacko and I would be all right getting there on our own, because he’d got to go early to do the usual soundchecks. While he was with us he told us about the previous night’s gig at the Liverpool Empire. According to John, it had been great because Robert’s voice was back to full force, after losing it to flu whilst the band had played Sheffield’s City Hall on 2 January. They’d had to cancel a couple of gigs however, but now Robert was fully recovered it was business as usual.
Once travel plans for the evening had been established, John was eager to get going, so there was a quick crack of the whip and Jacko and me were back to work. Being winter it wasn’t long before the light faded and the afternoon drew to an early close and Jacko and I were off to get ready for the evening’s soiree.
As we headed north I mused on the thought of putting a heav
y rock band on stage in a venue such as Trentham Gardens. Set in 1000 acres of woodlands and beautiful gardens, originally designed by Capability Brown, Trentham Hall is the ancestral home of the Duke of Sutherland. Built in 1633, it was largely rebuilt in the eighteenth century and then later remodelled in the nineteenth. The band was to appear in the Grand Hall, which is a large ballroom with a first floor balcony, which neatly contained a bar for the band’s guests. So tonight, a Zeppelin would buzz this regal home. Would it still be standing in the morning?
Upon our arrival at the hall a hundred or so fans were already milling around. Heading for the bar we found a space, settled, and waited for Led Zeppelin to arrive on stage. The buzz of anticipation was audible by the time the hall was half full, and for any of you that were there, Jacko was the one in the suit. I can’t recall now if they started on time, though I doubt it. Eventually the house lights dimmed, John kick-started the kit into life, making it sound like a pneumatic hammer was pounding the snare. Jacko and I stood watching proudly as the boys yet again gave their all in a show that melded talent with sheer magic. Some 20 years on, whilst writing his book ‘Underground Tapes’, Luis Ray wrote of the show, “Released on two CDs, ‘Stoke Volumes 1 & 2’, this is the finest document for enjoying Bonzo’s drumming at its most careful and precise.”
As members of the family gathered to discuss what a great night it had been, somewhere in the distance an angry exchange could be heard. Although the bar hall had emptied of people, it hadn’t emptied of smoke, so it was difficult to see what was going on. We could only go by voice recognition – and yes, our ears had not let us down, it was our John, and he was going totally apeshit. Suddenly it went quiet and as the smoke cleared, we could see that John had disappeared, so assorted members of the band’s entourage set off in various directions in order to locate the missing drummer.