by Mick Bonham
On 14 March, John had to go to London for three days of meetings with the rest of Led Zeppelin. To my delight he asked if I would like to accompany him as well. Well, do bears shit in the woods? Now I thought the trip down in the Porsche was good enough, but when we arrived at the Swan Song offices in London, a chauffeur driven Rolls Royce limo had been laid on to take us wherever we wanted to go. We were running late so it was straight out of one car and into the other and off we went to the first meeting, in a large, tastefully designed office overlooking the Thames. Around a highly polished wooden table sat lawyers, accountants and all the members of Led Zeppelin, discussing financial packages. I thought they were talking telephone numbers so just sat there looking stupid and thinking that there should have been a sign over the door saying ‘Be Bop spoken here’. Once the meeting was over it was back to Swan Song for beers and a bite to eat.
“I’m going tae the chippy, d’yee want anything?” – it was not so much a question, more an order in a raucous Scottish accent. I could only stammer “Yes please.” This was my first introduction to Maggie Bell, a great lady who would become a great friend. That evening, while all the members of the band converged on Richard Cole’s flat, I stayed with Maggie and the two girls who worked in the office, Unity and Cynthia. We met up with all the others at a nightclub called J. Arthurs, where we drank and danced until the early hours. John had left a couple of hours earlier, so it was Maggie who managed to get me back to the Kensington Garden Hotel at about 4.00am. By about 5.00am I had finally managed to find my room and was rewarded for my efforts with a bottle of champagne on ice.
John would be at meetings all the following day and I would be surplus to requirements, which allowed me to make a gradual return to the life of the living. Some fresh air was needed so I took a steady walk to the office in the hope of a quiet afternoon. Upon my arrival Unity introduced me to John Bindon, whose job it was to make sure nothing untoward happened to John or any other member of the band; the Minder. As he told me about his job with John and some of the incidents he’d been involved with, I felt a definite feeling that he was a man that could do his job and do it well. So it came as no surprise that when he rang the local pub and ordered beers for us, the barman delivered them to us in the office. Late in the afternoon I was collected by John’s personal assistant Rex King and taken to meet John at the Water Rat pub further down Kings Road. The evening was spent chatting and I got talking to a guy who went by the name of Tom The Fib, who told me all about his escapades with the Emperor of Mexico’s son. He was bloody good too. Shit, he had me believing him.
When the pub closed John was going to a club with a few others, but not wanting another night like the previous one, I declined the invite and went back to the office for a nightcap. Still, just like the previous night I was deposited at the hotel just as most people were starting to make their way to work. Our last day in town was spent travelling from one meeting to another, until at 8.00pm we eventually set off for home, taking Robert and Maureen with us.
One thing that had been decided during the London trip was that the band would get together to rehearse for a new album and, on 2 May, the band members convened at Clearwell Castle, set in the Forest Of Dean near the Welsh border for a musical get-together. On 3 October, John would once again meet up with John Paul Jones, this time at Abbey Road studios, to record two tracks with Paul McCartney and Wings. The two tracks were ‘Glad to See You Here’ and ‘The Rockestra Theme’ for the forthcoming album ‘Back to the Egg’. Other artists at the session included Pete Townsend, Hank Marvin and Dave Gilmour. As soon as the session finished, it was back to rehearsals with Led Zeppelin before they would fly off to Stockholm to record their ninth album at ABBA’s Polar Studios.
During a break in rehearsals, John had gone to see Reg and Chrissie Jones’ new band Grit, which also featured Ace Kefford on bass, play at Shenstone College. Also in the audience was John’s old mate Johnny Hill and it wasn’t long before the two John’s were onstage backing the Jones’ boys. Way of Life played once more.
Chapter 23
SCRAMBLE ON
With all the breaks in John’s music career, he would spend a great deal of his time working with Jason and the Kawasaki Schoolboy Team at many of the meetings, arranged by the West Mercia Schoolboy Scrambling Club. He also helped sponsor some of the meetings, to help raise money for many different causes. His biggest was at Hawkstone Park, a hard and testing championship course near Whitchurch, Shropshire. As with all the other projects like the band and the farm, it was my job to record the events on film. During the races a major problem had happened to Jason’s bike and the part that was needed was at Alec Wright’s house in London. Mathew and I would have to take it in turns driving to London and back, a 350-mile round trip, with strict instructions from John not to stop for any reason. We kept the accelerator to the floor all the way there, which put us well ahead of schedule, so I managed to talk Mathew into stopping for a bite to eat, on the understanding that no one told John. Arriving back at the track John remarked on what great time we’d made. I was so chuffed I piped up, “Yeah, and we even stopped for some grub.”
Whack!!
This surprised me because John hadn’t moved. It had been Mathew who was stood behind me. It was a fair whack too, right across the head. If that wasn’t bad enough we were told that ten minutes after we’d set off for London they’d discovered the part was not needed. As for stopping, the following day Mathew and I were given the job of emptying the toilets. Lovely. Now let me get my hands on the prat who said, ‘Where there’s muck there’s money.’ Still, the meeting was a success and we’d be back in a couple of months.
On November 3rd we returned to Hawkstone Park and this time John would come up with one of his best ideas to date. To get some really good photos he decided that I should lie under the Girling Leap and film the bikes flying through the air above me. To all you non Motor X types, the Girling Leap is a jump with a drop of about five feet, and all these young lads come tear-arsing round the corner then gun over the jump, careering through the air for God knows how far. Well, John thought it was a good idea, so I did it, lying on my back with camera pointing skywards waiting for John to give the signal that a bike was approaching. By the time that signal came I didn’t know whether it was my heart or my arse that was giving me palpitations, but by the time I’d opened my eyes and clicked the shutter twice the bike had gone. Still, it didn’t stop two members of St. John Ambulance rushing over because they thought a bike had knocked down some poor old bastard.
The day ended with everyone going to a nearby hotel for a meal and a shufty at the disco upstairs. During the evening’s entertainment it was announced that there would be a drinking race. With words of encouragement from John along the lines of, “Go on our kid you’ll piss it” off I went. Strong in arm, thick in head, onto the stage with four other unsuspecting idiots. What they hadn’t told us was that what we actually had to drink was half a pint of cold baked beans, but the prize was a large bottle of champagne. Anyway, I did it, I won it and we drank the champers. I fell over and didn’t come round until about 2.00am. As my aching eyes scanned a room I had never seen before I began to panic. What I didn’t know was that John had booked me a room at the hotel and then, like everyone else, had gone home. Panic turned to fear as I remembered that Lin was expecting me home yesterday and I couldn’t even get out of the hotel because it was all locked up. After making enough noise to wake the dead, an irate proprietor appeared in his pyjamas and kicked my arse out the door. Thank you. As well as helping to sponsor the team, John was also involved with launching the Superkids’ charity, which would raise money for disabled children during scramble meetings and other functions. At one of these events he would raffle his chopper bike he’d used in ‘The Song Remains the Same’ to raise even more cash. And yet with all this going on, John never lost his enthusiasm for playing drums, with anybody and anywhere. During that year he’d played with Zep at Clearwell Castle, Paul McCartney a
t the Abbey Road studios and even Way of Life at Shenstone College. And on 24 November he got up and played with a local band, for the second time, at the Annual Presentation Dinner for the Scramble Club.
“The band had appeared at Stourport Civic Hall for a Scramble Presentation Night with Dave Thorpe, a top scrambler at the time, presenting the awards,” recalls Dennis Williams, the manager of the band in question. “During the evening it was made known to me that John Bonham and his family were in the building. When the lads were told they all crapped themselves with nerves, but then excelled themselves, knowing that such a superstar was in the audience.”
“I approached John during the break and asked if he would like a session with the lads, who were known as the GB Band (John Allen, Steve Wills, Malcolm Evans and Steve Lees). I must confess that after hearing and reading all the bad press about him I thought he would tell me to get lost. The response was the complete opposite. His face lit up and he eagerly accepted the invitation. Turning to the drummer he told him to tighten the clamps on his kit as tight as he could. At this Steve Lees looked worried, thinking his recently paid for kit was going to be wrecked. John assured him that if he damaged anything he would get him a new kit. Soon there was a buzz around the place and then a roar of approval when John took to the stage. He played a couple of numbers with Steve Lees desperately trying to keep his kit clamped together and then he brought Jason on stage for a knock. Watching him play at such a young age you sensed that he would be in the same mould as his father. He excelled and the crowd responded with a standing ovation for both the Bonhams.
“Looking back on that night, could John be that bad guy the press loved to smear, or a very talented family man who took great pleasure in giving his friends a treat and liked to show off the talents of his son Jason? I know that John Bonham was the latter man. After the gig his friends outnumbered the hangers on, but he still took time to chat with the lads, encouraging them and answering all their cheeky questions.
“That night was a great experience for the lads, who were still in their early twenties, and who would have thought it would happen again a mere 12 months later. When I heard there would be another presentation the following year I pulled out all the stops to get the gig on the off-chance John might be in attendance once again. As the date drew nearer, the feedback about a possible appearance from John was good so this time we went with cameras. The venue was Mount Olympus, Stourport, and sure enough, John was there and this time he approached us asking if he could repeat last year’s session. Who could refuse? It was a repeat in every way, with the crowd going wild, Jason taking the stage and drummer Steve still panicking about his drums. It was a dream come true not once but twice. Sadly it didn’t happen a third time, but John was a local lad who’d made the big time but never forgot his family or his mates.”
LULU INTERVIEW 1999
Q: How did you rate John as a drummer?
L: John was the most awesome drummer, a genius; I don’t think I’ve seen a drummer to compare with John.
Q: Did you meet up very often?
L: When in London recording, he would visit our house along with Robert Plant, Keith Moon and Ringo Starr. Brother Billy and Maurice would be there and we would party into the night. I would hang out as long as possible, trying to be one of the boys. It was great fun whenever we met.
Q: I understand you had some great holidays with Pat and John, was he a fun person to be with?
L: People said things about John, which I could not believe; I never saw it in all the time I knew him. We went on holiday to the South of France with Pat and John and had a fantastic holiday. When we stayed with them they were the perfect hosts even giving up their bedroom so we would be more comfortable. While we were there we met their son Jason who at six was an incredible talent playing drums like a guy many years older.
Q: How would you like people to remember John?
L: John and I had a lot in common, it was not about being a star, or about doing it to become rich and famous, it was doing it because it’s in every fibre of your body, and that’s why I think it’s kind of sweet that I am able to say I knew him. John was very generous, and incredibly passionate, which allowed him to play the way he did.
Chapter 24
A QUIET GAME OF CHEQUERS
1979 began at a nice relaxed pace; working on farms, going to scrambles and drinking at the Chequers pub. Located a mile down the road from Old Hyde in the village of Cutnall Green, The Chequers was another of those olde worlde pubs we favoured, with stoned floors and a landlord to match. Kenny Powell, a notorious character, became good friends with John, owing to the fact that, when it came to looning around, he was up there with the best of them. So if anything untoward was going on, Kenny was probably involved, as we were to find out on more than one occasion.
On 4 January, John had received tickets for the State Express Snooker Tournament, being held at the Albany Hotel in Birmingham, and thought it would be a nice treat for Jacko, who was a big snooker fan. Kenny joined us for this sporting night out and, on completion of the match, we were all invited into the player’s lounge for a drink and a chat. John hit it off with Alex Higgins from the outset and they both became very merry, drinking Planters Punch, whilst Jacko was introduced to six times World Champion Ray Reardon and was happily having his photo taken with him. Towards the end of the session we all posed for a picture with Arthur Askey, a legend of British comedy and Leslie Crowther, the TV personality who sadly passed away several years ago.
The evening had been a great success until a very stern looking official entered the room and demanded to know “Who does he belong to?” pointing back into the snooker room. We ventured into the auditorium only to find he was referring to Kenny, who had drunk up, curled up and gone to sleep on the tournament match table.
Later that same month, after working on a very cold morning at Wood Farm, John and I decided to call in at Chequers to get warm and grab a bit to eat. Discussing the weather with Ken, I told them my solution to keeping warm; wearing long-John style underwear, I realised that I should have kept that to myself after becoming the butt end of all John and Ken’s jokes, as well as any other punter within earshot. So much interest had been shown in my underwear that Ken said he would bet me ten quid that I didn’t have the bottle to dance around the pub in the said underwear, a bet that doubled when John put a tenner in too. Working on the theory that nothing from nothing leaves twenty quid, the kecks were off, the music was on and I was dancing around the tables. All was fine until pay-up time; John gave me his but Kenny had disappeared. Then John disappeared but soon returned carrying a large sledgehammer. After a couple of gentle taps on the bar John shouted, “Bring the money Ken or the bar gets it.” The money appeared, but not Ken. It transpired that while these shenanigans were going on, the landlord had spotted his wife returning from shopping, and being a born again coward had disappeared upstairs and gotten into bed. When questioned by his wife he claimed not to know anything about what was happening downstairs. Just another lunchtime at the Chequers.
During the time John would be hitching up the trailer and taking Jason to the scrambles, Jacko would be doing the same, but his trailer was a horsebox and his passengers were our sister Debbie and her trusty old steed Mustang. On the weekends that she spent with Jacko they would tour the gymkhanas and horse shows. With Debbie’s knowledge of horses, and after the Old Sam debacle, John had asked her to come with us to have a look at a horse he wanted to buy. The horsebox was hitched up and we all set off to Whitchurch to check out this horse. After an inspection, Debbie advised John that it was a perfect beast so we brought it back home. During the drive back John suddenly turned on the radio as the intro to a song called ‘Roxanne’ by The Police came on. During the breaks in our vocal accompaniment John raved about the band and the great technique of the drummer, saying he reckoned they would be the band to knock Zep off the top spot. As we carried on our singsong, Debbie was still unaware that the horse behind us was hers, but as
John told her the news, she looked up tearfully and said, “I’m going to call him Achillies.” It was a great day that ended in total joy for our sister.
Although John loved this period of his life, he was a drummer through to the bone, so when he heard that Zep was booked to do a major gig at Knebworth, his face beamed. As the date of 4 August drew near though, doubts began to creep into his mind. After two years away from playing live, could Led Zeppelin still pull the big crowd?
Above
The lucky ones, Knebworth 1979, the last UK concert for Led Zeppelin
Above
The lucky ones, Knebworth 1979, the last UK concert for Led Zeppelin
Chapter 25
THE SUN SHINES AGAIN
On 28 May John left the country life and returned to work, rehearsing with Led Zeppelin. The new album, ‘In Through the Out Door’ would be released to coincide with the Knebworth shows and the fact that the American public had just voted them top band in no less than eight categories in Circus magazine, helped to allay John’s fears.
For me, the biggest gig of 1979 was at Bromsgrove Hospital, where on 1 July Lin would squeeze the shit out of my hand for a second time as she gave life to our son, James Colin Bonham. The name had been chosen so there would be another JB and his middle name, after his godfather Colin Andrews. We hadn’t considered that his initials would be JCB, also a large mechanical excavator, so he began life being known as ‘little digger’ by the nurses.
After a couple of weeks’ break looking after my family, I returned to work, just in time to take John and Robert to Birmingham Airport. Nervously they boarded a private jet and took off for their first performance in two years, at the Falkoner Theater in Copenhagen. It had been ten years since they’d last played there.