Johnny Morris and the Convertibles

by Terry Aspinall

  Chapter 3

  TOP OF THE POPS

  Unfortunately, our very first record did not reach the top of the charts, to become our first long awaited number one hit, as everyone had expected. Instead it stalled at position number nine, before dropping slowly backwards and out of the charts completely. However, it had hung around for almost seven weeks and as far as we were concerned, that was pretty good for our very first attempt. Even though it made quite a bit of money for some people, the band never received a single penny of the revenue it generated. It was all explained to us by Norm that after deducting the cost of the recording and his manipulation of the charts, he had actually lost money on the whole deal.

  However, the record release and its number nine position in the charts increased our exposure and popularity to a record buying public that was gaining strength by the day. In order for Norm to take full advantage of this, he brought in a couple of friends to assist with the management side of the band. He had been complaining for some time that, as we became household names, it was becoming too much for one man to handle.

  Unfortunately, we had to pay for their services out of our cut of the so called profits. The only problem with that statement was that the band was not making a profit. Somehow, Norm had worked it so that his 1/6th share was deducted before the band expenses were paid for, including any expenses that Norm had run up connected with the band. Then there was the roadie and now these two new guys. The remainder was then equally divided amongst the band members, leaving us with very little to live on. At that time it looked like we were going into the red with every gig that we played, and so we had to sleep in the van whenever possible. We did not let our loyal fans know, otherwise I’m sure they would have laughed at us; most were under the impression that we were all millionaires since the release of our first record. However, it did become common knowledge within the industry that we were sleeping in the van most nights, and it became known as the "Bedford Hotel".

  Once, while I was in a shop waiting to buy a newspaper that just happened to have us on the front page, I could not help listening to a conversation between the proprietor and another customer, as they both looked at the picture of the band. They were obviously talking about us, but had little idea what they were talking about. However, that fact did not stop them from constantly saying that we were all millionaires and had more money than sense, adding that this money had been thrown at us for doing absolutely nothing other than make a record. The other guy then replied that we would probably spend it all on drugs; such was the public’s perception of rock and roll bands at that time. I felt like joining in with the conversation by giving my side of the story, but I could not be bothered, and anyway I doubt very much whether they would have believed me. Once people have made up their minds, it’s hard to get them to change it. I began to wish that I had never heard their conversation in the first place. Although I must add that at times we deserved the tag they placed on us, because of the life style we choose to lead, and to not worrying if it became public.

  Somehow, we allowed our new management team to talk us into purchasing more powerful amplification, to give us a professional sound in the larger venues that we were now being asked to perform at. These bigger venues meant that more money was passing hands amongst our management and the venues, but it did not seem to be making its way into our bank accounts. However, we did like the idea of replacing our VOX AC15 amps for the new VOX AC30s, mainly because we were lacking drastically in the volume department, compared with other bands. It was something we had wanted to do for a long time, knowing full well that the Shadows had used them, and if they were good enough for the Shadows then they were good enough for the Convertibles. We also decided to purchase a new VOX AC100 PA (Public Address) amplifier that consisted of two columns cabinets with four 8-inch speakers in each column. They also had a nice chrome back support that allowed us to angle the speaker in the direction of the fans, so it threw the sound above their heads, to improve the vocals. However, we went deeper into debt as we all increased the loans that our parents had signed for us the year before.

  Once again, it was arranged for us to tour the North of England, only this time we took in many different venues, hoping to spread the word while trying to increase our popularity amongst the natives. Unfortunately, this time we picked up some more bad press that always seemed to follow rising stars popularity. Because we were now seen as successful recording stars, whenever we hit a town we were invited to the local record shops, to sign autographs while trying to bump up future record sales. I might stress that all of these visits were at our own expense; we were told by our management team that we would reap our rewards in future theatre tickets and record sales, something that we were not seeing a lot of at that time.

  Usually, the local press would be there to report on the event for the town’s people. During one such occasion, we were mobbed by almost one hundred teenage girls, all trying to grab our clothes and touch us. At one time, it became a nightmare with all of the pushing and shoving, which resulted in a couple of the shop windows being broken. As was usual, we had egged everybody on in a fun sort of way but, as we saw the situation deteriorating and getting out of hand, we tried to back out. However, we need not have worried because the local press later re-sold the story on to the national newspapers in London, and by the next morning we were on the front pages of a couple of the national tabloids.

  By now, our parents and the townspeople back home were all feeling a little dejected and left out of our success, and started knocking us saying that we were only a one hit wonder band and that we would soon be home, dragging our little tails behind us. It must have been the first time that someone explained to me the tall poppy syndrome, the chopping down of successful people who had made it to the top by their own ability, while the people doing the chopping down would have given their right arm to have been in that very same position. I often wonder how they would have felt being character assassinated by me, but I guess that’s another story.

  However, what hurt us the most was the night that Dave was driving us back from a venue to a bed and breakfast that had been arranged for us in the town of Concert. Most of us had dozed off trying to grab a little hard earned sleep after the rigours of a very long day, when we were all awakened by the van swerving around on a very wet slippery road as Dave tried to regain control of its handling. We had been driving on a narrow unlit country road, and as we came around a corner he had spotted something lying in the road. However it was too late; as he swerved to miss whatever it was, he ran over it and we all felt the bump. By the time the van had stopped, we were about forty meters up the road. Ginger jumped out and ran back as Dave tried to reverse the van so he could light up the area. Being on a blind corner, we were placed in a bad situation if another vehicle were to fly around the corner just as we had.

  Dave parked the van as near to the side of the road as possible. Ginger started shouting at us, we had just run over somebody who had been lying in the middle of the road. We all knew that you are not supposed to move anybody who has been run over, but we had to as he was lying in the middle of the road. We were all worried that we were also going to be hit by another vehicle. I told Dave to drive off and look for a phone box and to get an ambulance, as the guy did not look too good. Dave could get all the information on where we were from the phone box.

  It had all happened so quickly and none of us knew what to do or could work out exactly what had happened. In my haste I had dispatched Dave, which meant that there were now five of us, plus the guy on the ground, all on an unlit blind bend in the road, and to add to our problems it started to rain heavily. All we could cover the guy with was the clothes we were wearing, and that was just flimsy stage gear that we had not bothered to change when we had finished the show.

  By the time that Dave returned, the police and ambulance were already on the scene, which eased the situation a little as he was the only one who could explain to them what had actually happened. We
had spent a few anxious moments trying to tell the police that we knew nothing, and I’m sure that they did not believe us. Every time we mentioned Dave, I’m sure they thought we were making it all up or, if Dave did exist, he had done a runner.

  We spent the entire night in the local police station and were all questioned separately as the police tried to place together what had actually happened. For most of that time, Dave was in a state of shock and very incoherent, and I’m sure they thought he was drugged up or something. Dave’s only crime that night would have been that he was overtired, and as we were all asleep, he'd had nobody talking to him to help keep him awake; after all we had been on the go since 8 o’clock that morning. We had driven to the booking and set up the gear, and then done the usual rounds of the local record shops and newspaper interviews. By the time the incident had happened, it was two thirty in the morning. Unusually for Dave, that night he had only had a couple of small beers to drink early in the evening.

  By the time we left the police station, it was 7am and we were all in no state to talk to the newspaper journalists who greeted us as we left, and so with this in mind they gave us a grubbing in the following day’s press. Unfortunately, the guy whom Dave had run over died just as they got him into a local hospital and so we were branded as drug crazed lunatic killers. They did not seem to write anything about why he was lying in the road in the first place. Later it was learnt that he had been dead drunk and had collapsed on his way home from a long drinking binge. This would have been one of the only times when I could not subscribe to the theory that any publicity was good publicity. It got us onto the front page of the newspapers but, at the cost of somebody’s life, it was not worth the publicity.

  On a brighter note, while we were at a gig in Newcastle we suddenly found ourselves on the bill as a support act. This was new to us and at first we found it hard to swallow but, after finding out that we were to support "Don Lang and his Frantic Five", we accepted it without hesitation. Don Lang had made a big name for himself while appearing on "Six-Five Special", one of the first television shows that featured rock and roll music for the young at heart. However, the show was always in competition with "Oh Boy", which was produced by the rival ITV network, the very first commercial television station in England. The rivalry between these two shows is what helped the music industry for us all. If it had not been for their strong competitiveness towards each other, there would not have been the boom in rock n roll music that we all experienced and benefited from.

  It was not the only time that we played support to another band. On one occasion, we played alongside of a guy who called himself Jack the Ripper. His whole act consisted of very fast rock and roll music, as he strutted around the stage trying to frighten to death most that attended, because he carried on stage a small wicker basket that was supposed to house the head of his girlfriend. The head was actually just a stage prop, but it did look realistic. As he strutted around, he would keep grabbing the head by its hair and raising it high above his own, so that the audience could clearly see it, while at the same time he would be splashing real blood over everybody and everything that got in his way. Thankfully for us, being the first act on we had removed all of our gear from the stage by that time. The guy was a complete lunatic and at times looked like he was about to go over the top. Sadly, he treated his band like they were dirt, even though they were good musicians. It amazed me that they stayed with him, although one of them later told us that he was their one and only chance of making it to the top. Sadly, I can now tell him that they had attached themselves to the wrong guy, because a few weeks later he was shut down, when he was banned from most of the main venues around the country.

  I certainly benefited from being in the Hartlepool area as it gave me a chance to meet up with Susan once again, or Sexy Susan as the band had nick named her. It had been over three months since we had last seen each other. It’s so strange when I think back to our relationship and the way I treated her. I had never slept with her, and yet I would sleep with any girl that chance threw my way. But with Susan, somehow it was different. I was prepared to court her in the old-fashioned way and the question of sex was not an issue and never raised its ugly head. Although it had been three months since we last saw each other, I had not been true to her and I’m sure that she knew that. Somehow, we both accepted the situation and enjoyed each other’s company. Strange as it might seem, I was not sure if she was completely true to me, or if she had other boyfriends. One thing is for certain, she was not going with me because of who I was, as she hated the limelight and would never be seen with me when the press was around. There was a time when I thought she reminded me so much of Jennifer, my very first girlfriend, and if I think back I treated her exactly the very same way. Jennifer was the girl that I wanted more than ever to walk down the aisle with, in a lovely white flowing wedding dress with a brilliant white veil; that meant something in those days. I had always dreamt that as she approached me, while I was already at the altar, her veil was so closely woven that I could not see her face. It was only after the ceremony that she raised it and I saw her beautiful, smooth white little angel face. It’s a funny thing; the girl was always expected to be a virgin before marriage, but nothing like that was expected from the man. However, it now seems a little hypocritical when I think about it.

  However, in the past I had also experienced a couple of bad dreams based on the same theme. The twist being that, as she raised the veil, I was confronted by a horrible, which looking face smiling at me, exposing many missing and some badly blackened teeth, while the main feature on her face was a rather large wart, right on the end of her hooked nose. Many times, I awoke in a sweat from those bad dreams, which were usually drug induced.

  If Susan came to the bookings, the time we spent together was usually taken up in a pub before the gig or in a nightclub after the show. Whenever we managed to get a whole day together, we would either go to the cinema or she would show me around the sights of the town we were visiting. However, if I was recognised she would walk away, not wanting to be seen by my side. I once tackled her on that and asked what the problem was. In fact, I came right out and asked if she was married, to which she shook her head while giving me a nice smile. I’ve often wondered about her, as I never did get deep inside her head to get the answers to a few questions that still remain unanswered to this day.

  Because of the many bookings and tight schedules that we were required to stick to, Dave the roadie was promoted to tour manager, although he still had to carry out his roadie duties. However, it was only in title and unfortunately for him there was no pay rise to go along with his new position. It was a good move, as he had become very withdrawn since the accident, and this gave him more to concentrate on so that it helped to get the incident off his mind. Although, I’m sure that it would have stayed with him for the remainder of his life. Things like that you never forget, and there is always something very small that usually triggers off the incident, refreshing it over and over in your mind.

  Dave became the hero of the night when he managed to prevent the van from breaking down while he was driving us home from a booking. Our precious Bedford van, which had also been promoted in name, from the "Bedford Hotel" to the "Bedford Hilton", had been flashing a dashboard light informing us that the battery was not charging. Dave explained to me that the alternator was not charging the battery and that, if we did not do something, there was a good chance that we would not make it back to our digs, as the lights would go out. He did not want to risk switching off the engine; because of the weight of the gear, there was a good chance that we would not be able to push start it, as we were in an area where there were not many hills around to assist us.

  Dave pulled into the first lay-by that he came across, lifted the engine cover positioned between the driver and passenger front seats, and had a look around with a torch. Sure enough, Dave pointed out that one of the wires had come off the alternator and that we had to screw it on while the engine was st
ill running. I was sure that it was not going to be me, knowing my history of picking up electricity very easily. I had once touched a sparking plug as the engine was still running and the shock I received had thrown me out into the road. As most of the other guys were all asleep in the back of the van, Dave told me he would do it if I held the torch for him. I can still see him gritting his teeth as he fought the pain of the electric shock, as he wound the bare wire around the terminal and proceeded to tighten up the nut to secure it. As with most jobs that you need to do quickly it did not work out for him, and he had to have at least three goes at it before he was successful. I must admit that I admired his guts and determination in keeping hold of the bare wire and nut for the few minutes that it took him. By the time that it was all over, I could see that he was physically shaking and that he needed a few minutes before he got back behind the wheel. Instead I told him to get into the passenger side and that I would drive for a time. While all this was going on, not one of guys in the back had woken up to offer assistance. Therefore, we just left them as I continued the journey home. To me, that incident told me a lot about Dave and we had quite a good conversation as I drove through the night.

  There were always fights at the dances we attended, although at that time it rarely involved the band. I guess it’s just human nature that young people, alcohol and a good night out do not mix very well. When you take all three into consideration, and then mix in the fourth ingredient of trying to find a girlfriend for the night, something has to give. The one thing I can say is that knives were very seldom used. Most of these tribal punch ups took place outside the venues, usually at the back of the village halls, in a field where the people lucky enough to own cars were able to park. For some unknown reason, fighting teenagers love to roll over other people’s property while they are throwing punches and trying to belt some poor soul to pulp. They seem to get that little bit of extra enjoyment when damaging other people’s property at the same time. Most of the fights were usually started inside the hall, but within seconds somebody would manage to pull the culprits apart. The gentlemanly thing to do then was to offer to meet each other again outside, and this is what usually happened. However, that would usually affect the band, as we would be left on stage, still playing to an empty hall as everybody flocked outside, jeering and egging their friends on to beat seven bales of muck out of their opponent. Many times, we played to an empty hall for thirty minutes or more. We could not stop playing, as the dance organiser would threaten to cut our pay down. They still wanted us to play, hoping that we would gradually pull the audience back inside, which we inevitably did. However, there were times when we were also very inquisitive, and wished we could have been outside with everybody else; cheering on whoever we thought should become the victor.

  On one such occasion we almost had a ringside seat. What I mean by that is at least we had a sort of commentary on what was happening outside. On this particular occasion, just as Ginger had started to play one of his very long lead breaks, a voice suddenly and mysteriously came from his Vox amplifier, announcing that there was a big fight taking place at the rear of the village hall, and that he, PC39 was wanting some assistance. Apparently, what had happened was that Gingers guitar strings, being the correct length for an Ariel and combined with the frequency of his amp, were receiving the policeman’s radio signal from behind the hut as he tried to call for back up. We never heard the reply, but every time he sent a further message, we could hear his every word. In this way we could work out what was happening outside. All of this was happening while we were playing, and there was nobody in the hall to hear us. Therefore, we lowered our volume so that we could hear everything that the policeman was saying very clearly.

  There were two occasions when particularly violent, big fights broke out inside of the dance halls and worried us. The first was when three young lads arrived at a dance being held in a large room at the back of a hotel. Unfortunately, they were still in their working clothes, which were covered in mud, and wearing Wellington boots. With the very large gathering in the hall, it was inevitable that it would not be too long before some of the girls got mud on their nice new brightly coloured dresses, and this is precisely what happened. The girls complained to their boyfriends and the boyfriends complained to the three strangers. There was no going back and the three guys took immediate offence to the boy's complaint about their muddy clothes. Within seconds an almighty fight developed between the three guys and the rest of the patrons who all ganged up on them.

  We were playing at the time and I must admit that within seconds we started to get a little worried, in case the fight spilled onto the very low small stage that we were all standing on, even though the fight was taking place at the other end of the hall. The fight picked up pace so fast that within seconds it was like an all out war. I even noticed that our music suddenly picked up pace and we were racing along with the fight. It brought back memories for some people, who said it was like the old silent cinema days when the organist played along with whatever was happening on the screen, especially during a fight scene when the music raced along.

  The owner of the hotel used to hide a sawn-off shotgun fully loaded with pepper under the counter. I can remember him grabbing the gun, aiming straight at these guys, and giving them both barrels. Well it didn’t do a thing, they just seemed to shrug it off, took another deep breath and away they went again. Only this time, it looked like they had moved up a gear as their opponents were dropping like flies. If I did not know better, I’d swear that the pepper acted like a drug upon them giving them superhuman strength. In desperation, the landlord let his German Sheppard dog loose onto the crowd in an attempt to quell what was clearly becoming a nasty riot. Within minutes, I saw the dog on the end of its leash, being whirled around and around above the heads of the crowd by one of these three guys. When he finally let it go, it banged up against a wall right next to the band, and was unconscious before it fell to the floor. For some unknown reason the three guys who by this time still did not have a mark on them, made their way to the door smiling and disappeared into the night leaving behind them a trail of damage that included at least fifteen patrons needing a doctor’s attention. Not only that, the band was gasping for breath, as we had been playing the same instrumental tune for almost ten minutes at breakneck speed. It was time for an interval and we deserved it even though we had not thrown a punch. I’ve often thought about that night and I’m sure that those guys simply went to the venue for a fight. To them, it was all part of the night’s entertainment, and I’m sure that they enjoyed every minute of it.

  The second incident happened whilst we were playing at small village hall just outside of Redcar. Two brothers had hired it for the evening, to collect some money to help purchase a guide dog for a local girl who had been blinded in a road accident. The two brothers had given the event a lot of publicity over the previous weeks, trying to attract as many people to the venue as possible. That night their persistence was rewarded when a couple of hundred people turned up to hear us play. However, as a band we could feel that the atmosphere did not feel quite right. During the whole evening we were expecting something to happen.

  The stage was in a rather an unusual position, right alongside a hatch where the beer was being sold. I say unusual because we were very loud and I’m not sure how they heard the patrons when they ordered a drink. Usually at these events the bar is always positioned at the opposite end of the hall to the band.

  JB happened to be closest to the bar, as the patrons stocked themselves up with fighting fluid as he called it. Somehow, although I don’t know how, we managed to get through the whole booking without a fight. However, during each break that we took from playing, JB would tell us little things that had happened or that he had overheard while we were playing. Then, towards the end of our last bracket while we were still playing, JB edged towards me and told me to wrap it up a couple of songs early as he just knew that one hell of a fight was going to break out soon. As I wound
up the last song for the night, and wished everybody a good night, I continued to add a little humour as usual, telling them that if they were drinking and driving they should not forget their cars. I turned and saw that JB was already packing up his gear rather fast. Laughingly, I asked him what his hurry was. Without hesitation, he told me that he was packing up before the fight started.

  Before the last word had left his mouth, I heard the first punch hit somebody standing in front of the by now closed makeshift bar hatch. Within a couple of seconds it was full on. Everybody seemed to be hitting somebody, using anything that they could get their hands on, I’m sure that nobody had a clue who was hitting who with what or for what reason. It escalated into a very violent fight where nothing was spared. As a band we became worried that our precious musical equipment was going to become involved and consequently damaged and broken. By now every member of the band was hurriedly grabbing their gear and dragging it to a small room on the side of the hut that had been used as a canteen during the night’s entertainment.

  There we stacked everything inside as we tried to protect it. Most of the electrical wires had just been dragged across the floor and ended up looking like a heap of black spaghetti, with a mass of plugs sticking out of it. Members of the band who had managed to pick up girlfriends during the night even hid them in the room. Once we were happy that all the gear was safely in the room Ginger and I stood by the door with a section of a microphone stand in our hands to stop anybody entering. However, I must say that at no time did anybody pick on any member of the band, or try to enter the room.

  In the early stages of the fight, I had thought that it was the band that had sparked off the incident by picking up the local girls. We later learnt that the trouble was over the two brothers who had organised the event. Somewhere along the line while they had been organising the event they had rubbed somebody up the wrong way, and a gang had come to the event to settle an old score with them. The fight was a little lopsided from the start, as there were only two of them, with maybe a hand full of local helpers, who were all innocently involved. They were no match for the couple of dozen young thugs who turned up from another village to reap their revenge upon the brothers.

  As they were fighting, a lot of them were felled and ended up in each other’s arms, all rolling around on the floor that was by now covered with dozens of broken bottles. When they finally stood up, all were covered in blood from head to foot. It reminded me of a scene from a war film, after a bomb had been thrown at a group of soldiers. At one time, both brothers were forced into a corner and six of the aggressors all rained sturdy wooden chairs down onto them, leaving one of them awaiting an ambulance’s arrival. Although the fight did not involve the band in a physical way, financially it did. Once the fight was all over, and the severely injured organiser accompanied by his limping brother had been rushed to the hospital, we were left with nobody to pay us for the night’s work. It must have been one of the only times that we were ever paid cash at the booking. Usually, Norm made sure that he received the money up front long before we played at the venue.

  As we stacked the last piece of equipment into the back of our van, a couple of the locals who were helping with the event, but were by now nursing major bruises and cuts themselves, told us that it would probably take more money than was raised at the event to pay for all of the damage that we had just witnessed. I could not help myself; feeling grateful that we had survived damage to ourselves and our gear, I told him to tell the brothers to keep our fee and help buy the guide dog for the young girl. Although I was later to learn that Norm still wanted his cut of the fee, and so once again we were out of pocket, having played for nothing.

  I must admit that the two brothers gave a good account of themselves but they were certainly no match against such overwhelming odds; they were plainly outnumbered. We learnt later that the one who ended up in hospital received brain damage from the chairs that were rained down on him. To add to this, nobody was charged over the incident and it was left to the remaining brother, along with a few close friends, to patch up the damage in the hall.

  I was once told of a very young pop group from the Norwich area that had all of their equipment smashed up by a bunch of irate local teenagers. Apparently, one of the members of the group had taken his girlfriend along with him for the evening’s entertainment. When she was asked to dance by a local and refused his advances, the dejected lad got all his mates to climb on the stage and smashed up everything while the band were still trying to play.

  Crowds can be very unpredictable and at times you have to be very careful what you say and how you handle them. Once full of fighting fuel, they are usually wound up like watch springs and ready to let fly at whosoever gets in their way. I know that, in my early days, I would not have given a toss and would have welcomed a good fight. However, now it was slightly different; we had a lot more gear to think about. During such interesting times, I usually became the diplomat, and would try to talk my way out of a tight situation.

  One night, without realising what I had said, I annoyed a young guy in the crowd when he irritated me by constantly shouting up at me on the stage, telling me that he wanted to hear some soul music. In the end, I got fed up and called back at him that he would have to listen to "arse soul", to which he took offence. He spent the rest of the night shouting aggressive insults at me. As if that was not bad enough, occasionally he would throw pennies at the band. Now that’s a different ball game and can be quite dangerous, especially if one of them were to hit you in an eye, although most bands just accepted it as part of what you have to go through to make it to the top. It’s all part of the never-ending apprenticeship.

  JB had always wanted to purchase and train either a German Sheppard or Rottweiler dog to sit in front of his amp and speakers during each performance and guard his equipment. After what happened to the one that was set onto the muddy workers, I doubt very much that it would have been a deterrent. I used to laugh at his idea, telling him that the RSPCA would be after him if it were not fitted with a head set to protect its ears.

  When we returned from the tour, Norm greeted us with the good news that the following day we were off to tour Germany for a couple of weeks. He had done a deal with a German agent and felt that it would be good experience for us. After all, it was a chance to expose a German audience to our music, and to maybe improve on it. As far as the band was concerned, it sounded like a good move; none of us had ever been abroad before, so it would be a whole new experience for us all. Now we would be able to bill ourselves as internationally acclaimed rock and roll stars wherever we performed.

  Lucky for us, Norm had already done all the paperwork, including getting all our passports. We caught the Harwich Ferry, after many setbacks while trying to get the Bedford van and all our gear on board, and settled ourselves down in the duty free bar on the top deck of the ship. There we all discussed what awaited us on the other side of the river, as we called it. The excitement within the band was electrifying, as we all had our own views on what to expect. Unfortunately, we also participated in a long and arduous drinking session, and to our discomfort the sea that day was not very kind to us. Both Ginger and JB were violently seasick and spent half the journey to the Promised Land hanging over the side of the ship getting rid of a few pints of best duty free beer.

  Dave had not drunk quite as much as the rest of the band, but by the time we docked in Ostend, Belgium he was quite merry. Even though he had been drinking, he still had to drive the van because the rest of us were completely drunk. Mind you, he knew the rules and that was why he had been hired. I might add that at that time there was no such thing as drink driving bans and no little bags to blow in to. In those days, you had to try and walk straight along a white chalk line that the police officer drew on the road for you, or touch your nose with a certain finger of your right hand. I always wondered what would happen if you told them that you were left-handed.

  As Dave drove off the ship and through the cust
oms, we were lucky enough not to be stopped and searched, so he headed straight for the main gate to get out of the docks and on our way to Germany. Unfortunately, he missed a sign warning passengers of the change in the European road conditions. Namely, on the continent they drive on the opposite side of the road to what we were used to in England.

  Passing through the gate, he swung the van to the left, positioning himself into the lane on the left-hand side of the road, to be confronted by a thirty ton truck bearing down on us at high speed and in our lane. We must have all been looking out of the front window at the same time because we all started shouting at him that if he did not do something very quickly; our tour was going to be over before it had even started. Luckily, he swung to the right as the truck whistled past us without even dropping a gear. We felt even luckier that we had not driven into another vehicle to the right of us, as Dave had carried out this manoeuvre without even looking where he was going. Then, as he drove up behind another vehicle, we all started trying to tell him at the same time that we have to drive on the right on the continent. At a guess, I would think that he was the only person on board who did not know it. Anyway it all turned out okay, especially with us all shouting further instructions at him whenever he got it wrong. It’s a wonder that our shouting did not make it worse for him. The only time he struggled was when he went around a corner; being used to driving on the left, he would always cut the corner and hug the left-hand side of the road. I have to admit that more than once he nearly drove into another vehicle, but somehow we avoided a major catastrophe as we continued our drive east.

  As we drove through Belgium, we all took in all the new sights that awaited us along side of the road. Several hours later, we approached the German border and were in high spirits, as we would soon be arriving at our new destination. However, the customs checkpoint was soon to remove the smile from our faces, as we were treated like criminals. For some reason, pop groups were treated like riff raff or second class citizens and criminals in Germany. They took our van to one side, stripped everything out, and spread it on the ground around the van. Each item was then taken apart in minute detail in an effort to see if we were trying to smuggle anything into the country. We all felt quite humiliated, as we had been made to sit down on the grass by the van to witness the intense search while other police officers stood over us brandishing sub-machine guns. It suddenly occurred to me that they were actually looking for drugs. At the very same time, I started twitching my nose because I could smell something unusual; although I was sure I knew what it was. As I looked at Steve, I suddenly became horrified as I saw him smoking and realised that he was puffing away on some grass. I went over to him to tell him to put it out before they realised what he was smoking. With a smile on his face, he told me that the customs officer had told him to go over and make himself comfortable on the grass and that he was only carrying out his orders.

  By this time, most of the other members of the band knew what was going on and started grinning and laughing at me. I told Steve not to be so bloody stupid and put the dammed thing out, which he did. He then laughed again and told me that they had not got a clue what they were looking for, and this proved it. He added that half the coppers in England didn’t even know what it smelt like. I asked if he had any hidden in the gear and he told me that he was smoking the last bit he had; he was hoping to buy some locally when we got to where we were going. I just prayed that none of the other guys had hidden any in their gear, although I learnt later that Ginger had hidden some pills in an old bottle that used to contain headache pills known as Codeine. However, the pills he hid in the bottle for some reason had a letter C stamped on them, and when asked by the customs guy, Ginger just pointed to the word Codeine on the front of the bottle, smiled at him, and everything was okay.

  Unfortunately, while all of our gear was spread out on the grass it started to rain. Even as I complained to the police, they would not let us cover any of our gear until they were satisfied that we were clean. Then, reluctantly and begrudgingly, they told us to clean up the mess they had just made. I could not help myself and to the guy in charge I said, "Welcome to Germany, I hope you enjoy your stay in our pleasant, friendly Gestapo state". However, before I could count to three, I was whisked away by two armed guards and placed in a cell inside the customs house.

  Once the band had replaced everything in the van and completed the paperwork, which took a further couple of hours, I was released and told not to be so smart in future, as I was in Germany now, not some sort of banana republic like the UK. If I did not respect the laws of the land, I would end up in big trouble. I could not help myself as I clicked the heels of my shoes and said "yar hole". On reflection, it was a silly thing to do, as I learnt later that we could have been thrown out of the country and so we would have missed the wonderful German hospitality that awaited us. I found myself wondering if they were all like this.

  We were also in for another big surprise once we reached the town of Wiesbaden, where some accommodation had been arranged for us. There we met up with the German agent Herr Cutler, whom we called Hair Cut, who kindly informed us that this was where we would be staying and that each day we would travel to the venues, some of which were to be American airbases. I was furious and kept cursing Norm for pulling such a dirty trick on us; he knew what I thought about American airbases. However, the agent told me that Norm did not know where we would be playing; it had all been left up to him. For some reason, I had thought that we were going to be playing in the small clubs that litter the sordid areas of every big city around the world, but according to our agent each night we would be performing at a different venue and that they were scattered right around the country.

  Each day, we would leave the hotel following the agent who was to lead us to the booking. Unfortunately, he was driving a BMW sports car while we were still in our precious low powered Bedford van. Anyway, after losing us a few times he finally got the message and decided to slow down in order that we might be able to follow him. The bookings were not as bad as we had expected and we were well received at most of them. At that time and to our amazement anything English was becoming the flavour of the month and so we could do no wrong. They liked our music and we did not understand German so, no matter what they asked for, I would always say "Yar" to everything. Even if we swore at them I’m sure that most did not know what we were saying half the time. It seemed to work, as we had the crowds on their feet for most of the night.

  At times it was all very tiring and, on one particular day we had to play at three clubs. We had been booked as a cabaret act, which meant that we only played for about an hour, usually in the middle of the regular act that was playing the club on that day. This meant that we had to set up our gear at each club, and then take it down and move onto the next venue to repeat it all over again and again.

  One funny thing happened as we were setting up our gear at the very first venue, when we suddenly realised that the Germans have totally different power plugs to us and we did not have anything that we could adapt for the occasion. Therefore, we had to bodge up a lead and wire it directly in to the socket outlets while it was still live, which caused a few eyebrows to be raised at the time. I told the powers that be that it was this or nothing, as we did not have the correct plugs and without them we could not play. However, the very next day we bought some plugs locally and changed all our leads.

  On another occasion, the agent was leading us to a booking, and taking the countryside route to avoid the town traffic jams, when we became held up in a long line of traffic that had come to a standstill. Apparently the police had shut the road off, although we had no idea why. Anyway, Hair Cut got out of his car, walked over to a police officer, and after a few minutes returned to shout back to us to follow him. With that, he drove to the front of the queue and the police officer waved us both through to continue our journey. We never did know what he told the policeman but, whatever it was, it worked and we were not late for the booking. Of all the
rumours that went around concerning that one, the one I liked most was that the police officer was his brother.

  On another day, we drove all the way to Frankfurt and to a dingy-looking cellar club without enough room to swing a cat around. Then on the way home we called into an American airbase, where Elvis had been stationed while he was in the army, to play a cabaret set in the middle of an American female artists country show. I’m not sure how it went down, or how we were accepted, because within minutes of us finishing our set, we had pulled down our gear, thrown it all in the van, and were once again on our way.

  The one thing that I took away from that venue was that I got so close to seeing my very first music idol, although I’ve often wondered what I would have said to him if I’d have been given a chance to speak to him. With the type of questions that he would have been asked a thousand times over, somehow I would have had to come up with something very English and original.

  All the long distance driving that we had to undertake after each booking was costing us a fortune in petrol, and to add to our troubles we were only receiving the same money as we did in England. Not only that, we had to use our money while in Germany, and Norm would sort it all out once we returned. I think at one time Dave worked out that we covered over 4000 miles from the time we left Norm until we returned; the mind boggles as to how our faithful Bedford van stuck the trip. I don’t think anybody ever checked the oil or tyres; we just assumed that it would keep going.

  One night, as we arrived back at the hotel, I was hungry, so Ginger and I went looking for something to eat. Unfortunately, all we could find was a vending machine in the entrance to the hotel, which only sold fruit and did not have much of a selection. We settled on a small plastic tray that contained three apples, and after scraping together some change, we managed to understand the German instructions on how to retrieve our evening meal. On reflection it was a dear meal, as we worked out that the apples cost us 22 shillings and 6 pence for the three. When we worked out that the average guy working in a factory in England at that time was only earning around £10 to £12 a week, it was a dear meal and not one that we would always be able to afford.

  This must have been the first time that girls were off the band menu, as the band was not given much time to be able to pick one up. The tour had taken place at a very fast pace, as we were rushed around the country at break-neck speed. By the time we arrived back at our hotel, we were usually deadbeat and crashed out on our beds fully clothed to grab what little sleep we could. Although there were a couple of girls hanging around the hotel entrance, there was no way that any of the boys were going to pay for it. If apples cost 7 shillings and 6 pence each, the mind boggles as to what the girls would be charging.

  Towards the end of the tour, we were awakened one morning by the sound of heavy knocking on our hotel-room door. I jumped out of bed to be greeted by the police, who arrested us and took us to the local police station where we were all locked in the cells. Apparently, the agent had neglected to pay for our accommodation and had also mysteriously disappeared for the moment. Hair Cut had suddenly become a Hair Runner, I told the police, who did not take kindly to my joke.

  It was a waste of time trying to reason with them, as I did not understand German and they did not understand much English. I found myself constantly telling the members of the band, with a smile on my face, not to mention the war, as it might get worse. Ginger asked how it could get worse, as we were in jail, nobody knew what was going on, and there was no sign of anybody coming to get us out. In addition, the constant clicking of my heels every time I stopped in front of one of the officers was not helping. Anyway, halfway through the day it was all sorted out as the agent suddenly reappeared and paid a couple of the outstanding bills. However, there was no apology and it seemed to be a normal occurrence in that part of the world.

  Once the tour was over, I’m sure we were all glad to be on the way home, and excitement mounted as Dave drove the van onto the nearest Autobahn and headed towards Belgium.

  We were following an old Ford Tunis car when it suddenly rolled off the road as it went around a roundabout. We all jumped out of our vehicle and rushed down a steep embankment, to find that the car had ended up on its wheels on another road at the bottom of the bank. Its roof was half crushed in and it looked a right mess. There were only two people in the vehicle. The driver, who I think was Turkish; lucky for him he was uninjured. While in the back was his wife. She was completely covered in black clothing, with only her eyes visible through a slit in the material. One look into those eyes and you could see that she was crying, as blood was also seeping through the material that covered her face. However, we did not dare touch her as we realised that the driver must have been a Moslem. Anyway, we managed to get the car started and back on the main road for him. We found out that they were heading for the ferry, which was still several hours drive away.

  We decided to stay behind them for as long as possible, which happened to be to the customs checkpoint as we left Germany. Once again we were treated to the great German pastime, known as tourist hating and English bashing, to which once again we lost several hours of our precious time while everything was hauled out of the van and searched. Only this time, we all kept our mouths shut, not wanting to delay our departure one minute longer than necessary. This time, I knew we were not carrying drugs, as we had not been able to make contact with anybody. We had been so busy and on the road most of the time that we did not have time to search for the stuff.

  Once back on the road, Dave had to put his foot down so that we did not miss the ferry from Ostend. Would you believe me if I told you that the Turkish couple in the car made it all the way to Ostend without being stopped by anybody, and were just in front of us as we lined up to drive on board the ferry. It was also amazing that they were even allowed to board the ferry with the car being in such a state. We all felt good as the Turkish guy acknowledged us with a hand wave. We would all have liked to know how they got on upon their arrival in England, because I’m sure he would have been stopped once he got out of the ferry terminal and onto the main roads. I was also interested as to the condition of the woman in the back seat, something we never did find out about.

  When we arrived home, Norm gave us two weeks off, which was not what we all wanted. Being so heavily in debt, we needed every penny we could lay our hands on in order to pay it off.

  During a moment when Norm managed to get me on my own, he explained that the two weeks off had been arranged for a good reason. I had been invited back to the recording studios to make another record, but they did not want the band. It was only me they were interested in, and that they would be using session musicians for the recordings. That hurt; after all we had all grown up together in the music business and got on well in each other’s company. At first I told Norm that it was all off and, as far as I was concerned, they could all take a running jump. However, once I had calmed down, Norm went on to explain that it was my one big chance and that I should not let the opportunity slip between my fingers, telling me that I should take full advantage of the offer and think twice before I made my next move. He went on to tell me that once I was in, I could then try and demand changes further down the track. He told me that he would explain it to the band, if I did not want to break the bad news to them. However, I insisted that it was my job. After all, I was running the band.

  The following day Norm and I drove up to the Regal studios in London, to a meeting that had been pre-arranged with the Bosses. However, they were pretty blunt, laying the law down right from the start on how it was going to be. There was no way that they wanted to record the Convertibles, as far as they were concerned they were not very good musicians. They only wanted me and they would be using their own studio musicians on the session. However, I detected a note of weakness in the way that they presented their offer towards me. I felt that they were after me at any cost, and so there just might be a little leeway in the negotiating. With this in mind, I started to lay down
what I wanted, and made it clear in no uncertain language that I was running the band. Further, I wanted them to know that I also wanted to sing most of my own songs on the recordings, as it were these that were going down well at the gigs. If I were being forced to use session musicians on record, then I would still use my band on live bookings. It was a well-known fact that studio musicians were good in the studios but that most of them wanted to go home each night and so did not want to tour. Furthermore, most of them could not drum up an atmosphere at a live gig. I knew my band, I knew our limitations, and so I picked the material that we played well and that was appreciated by the crowds.

  At one time, they waved a contract at me, while I told them it was no good to them if I did not sign it. Unfortunately, I placed Norm on the spot, not realising that he had already signed for me. Rubbish I told them, I sign my own contracts and if my signature was not on the bottom then it was worthless. I was of an age where I did my own deals, and I warned them that if they stitched me up then I would never sing another word for them. Deep inside, I felt that I was getting close to the end of the augment, as that was not what I wanted. I was a singer and loved what I was doing. There was just no way that I could go through life not being able to sing.

  As the agreements were being made between us, the contract was sent back to the legal department to be changed. I had reluctantly agreed to the session musicians as long as the songs being recorded were mostly mine, leaving the door open for them to add some of their crappy songs to the B-sides of the records. This they agreed to, allowing them a chance to at least make a little more money from the record sales at my expense, as they would still receive 50% of the song-writing revenues that the record made. Even if the song was on the B-side, and was hardly played by the record-buying public, it did not stop them receiving their share of the money. None of this changed the agreement I had with Norm; our handshake still stood, even though at times the band had felt cheated by the way in which the spoils were being divided.

  The next day, I recorded four songs, two of which "Dog Day Afternoon" and "Missing You" were written by me. The other two "Shakin City" and "Living my Life" were written by the Regal studio song writers.

  It has to be understood that this was during a time when most studios were changing over to stereo recording. Up until then, all recordings had been a mono format, and usually recorded in one take as the whole band played together, standing around just as they would on stage. Even the Beatles recorded their first couple of albums in a mono format, taking only a couple of days on each album, which is incredible when you consider that, today some bands will spend months in a studio working on just one song.

  Because of the cost factor involved in re-recording each song several times, the studio engineers and producers allowed a lot of mistakes to stand. To the studio bosses time cost money, and that was something they did not like parting with very easily. What amazed me was that most of the people running these studios were men in their late fifties to early sixties. Here was a load of old men all trying to influence what young people wanted to hear. Not one of them realised that the young people of the day had completely different tastes in music. If it had not been for the Beatles, who managed to break away from that type of routine and produce new young people’s music, I don’t think none of us would have been around to enjoy the spoils of war. I also believe that leaving a few very minor mistakes in the recordings gave them some sort of character. It showed that the bands were human and like the public, they also made mistakes. Today, some records are too clinically clean, and the public know that they are all corrected with gizmos and electronics. When they see the band live, they are disappointed that some of them do not sound like their records.

  It also amazed me that, during my time in the studio, I was not held over a barrel, in order to force me to record one of their poorly penned songs. I like to think that finally they were taking notice of what was going on around them. At that time, the Beatles were setting the pace in England and one would have been a mug if they had not noticed what was going on in the music business. As Norm and I left the studio, we were both pleased with the results of my day’s work. To prove a point, I signed the new contract that had been thrust at me as we attempted to leave the building.

  Back home, I called a meeting of all the members of the band at Norm’s café. I felt that if I’d met them in a pub where the booze was flowing; there was a good chance that tempers were going to get a little frayed. I knew that when they learnt what deal I had sorted out, they were not going to be very happy with me. I had to hope that they did not walk out on me in a temper. After all, we had all been mates for a very long time.

  As I broke the news to them, a terrible hush settled on the room as I waited for the first sparks to fly. However, I had been wrong, they all acted as if they knew what I was going to say and that they had been expecting it. Around that time, there had been several stories in the newspapers of bands that had split up so that the lead singers could go off and pursue solo careers. You only had to look at what happened to Cliff Richards. Although in his case his band the Shadows had managed to carve out a nice little career of their own playing instrumentals. Mind you, they also had a lot of the talent.

  I did my best to sound sincere when I told them that I had not deserted them, but had taken full advantage of the best offer that I could secure, to keep the band together and on the road. After all, wasn’t that what we all wanted to be able to make live music. If we played our cards right, we could all be winners in this game. After all, the session musicians had given me a good backing sound on record. How was the public going to know that it was not the Convertibles playing on the record, when they heard us play live. Mind you, I had to remind them that they had to do a good cover job of the record, so that the public did not smell a rat. Who knows, I went on, maybe we will be able to prove ourselves to these studio morons and next time they will let you all be on record. Slowly, they all started to see reason and accept what I had told them, that there was no way that I would desert them, especially after we had come this far together.

  Most of our financial arrangements had to be changed over this deal, and if we did not sort something out it would all become a little mixed up. Because I was now involved on my own with the studios, I decided to make major changes. I explained to the band that problems would arise down the road. With Norm’s help, we drew up an agreement for the band that I would pay them a set weekly wage from the proceeds of each booking. By now, these were fairly constant and it did not matter where we played, it was always for the same fee plus expenses if bookings were out of the way. The band seemed quite happy, as I had been generous with what I offered. A further benefit for them was that they would now be paid weekly, rather than having to wait for the gig cheques to pass through the bank account. I would stand all of that, and if and when we earned more, then I would review and increase their wage accordingly. I’m sure that none of them doubted my word or thought that I would cheat them. However, if in future there were losses then I would have to stand them. That day I became an employer and wondered what the future would hold for me.

  By the time that our two-week break was over, we were all back to normal and happy to be back on the road once again. This tour was a little different from the last one, now we were to be based in the general London area for almost a month, so it would be easy for anybody to get home for a few hours if they wanted.

  It was while we were in London that my first record was released, with "Shakin City" on the A-side and my "Dog Day Afternoon" on the B-side. I was devastated that they had chosen to use their song over mine. It also made me feel cheated that they had told me lies, knowing full well what they were going to do. At the time of recording "Shakin City", I had felt that it was very weak and lacked the knockout punch that we always tried to deliver live on stage.

  One of the band members remarked that so far the word "Shakin" had been on both record releases, and suggested that maybe I should change my name t
o Shakin Morris and the Shaky Convertibles. However, there was no way that I was having a part of that one, especially as Norm had done all of the promotional work in the press and on the radio.

  During our live shows the "Convertibles" pulled out all of the stops, and we achieved a fabulous version of "Dog Day Afternoon". And why shouldn’t we? After all we had been performing the song in front of the public for almost nine months. In the studios, I had performed it as I did on stage, so that the session men picked up on this and it came out almost like the "Convertibles" version. I believe Ginger was the only one who had to change part of his lead break so that the public would never know the difference. With "Shakin City", the band had to try and copy the record note for note, and that’s easier said than done. It ended up not quite as tight a sound; that only comes with constantly playing it over and over. It was also lucky that I had witnessed how the studio musicians had obtained their sounds on record, and so I could pass that information onto the band. There are many budding musicians out there who are very frustrated that they cannot copy something they hear on record because they do not know what tricks were used in obtaining this sound in the studio.

  However, when it first appeared in the charts the song was listed as "Dog Day Afternoon". Call it what you want: fate, luck or even divine intervention. Somehow, one of the radio announcers-cum disc jockeys had placed the record on the turntable upside down and mistakenly played my song to an eagerly awaiting young audience, telling them that we were a brand-new band on the scene that were playing around the London area at the moment and were destined to go places. Within minutes, teenagers started ringing up the radio station, all asking for details of the record and where could they purchase it. From there, it snowballed as other radio announcers picked up on it, and played it on their programs. After a time, the teenagers started to flock to the shops to buy it; in doing so, they forced Regal Records to reconsider and to make "Dog Day Afternoon" the A-side track.

  Its rise up the charts was phenomenal and caught us all off guard. Within just two weeks, it was sitting just outside the tenth position and that gave us all a buzz, although I have often wondered what part Norm played in its historic rise. I guess we will never know now, but I bet I paid for it handsomely somewhere along the line. I often wonder how much it would cost to play the wrong record on the radio. After all, it was common knowledge at that time that most of the foreign stations were paid by record companies to continually plug certain records.

  Suddenly, the whole band was thrust into the limelight. We had become accustomed to the small provincial newspapers, now all of a sudden the main nationals were interviewing us. We were also being recognised while we were out in public, and wherever we went we drew a crowd. There was even talk that we might get onto the BBC's Top of the Pops’ television show that was watched by millions of young people every Thursday night, if Norm could swing it for us.

  As was usual with us, no sooner had we received some good news then there was always some bad to follow. It came in the form of a phone call from Norm informing me that my Mother had passed away. She had been very ill for quite some time but had finally succumbed to pneumonia, passing away in her sleep while on her own. Norm did the right thing for me and cancelled a week’s bookings as the band headed home. There was no way that I could have ignored what had happened. After all, Mother was the only family that I had and we had relied on each other for almost twenty years. Her passing was going to leave a big hole in my life and I wanted to see her just one more time before she was buried. I also learnt that people could be very callous at bad times like this in your life.

  My Mother had lived in a small council bungalow that was designed for older people. The very day that I buried my Mother, I got a letter from the council ordering me to move out all of her belongings and to clean it up so that somebody else could move in right away. The band helped me and we gave almost everything to the Salvation Army, so they could help the homeless. The only things that I held onto were the old family photos album of us that included my Father and a couple of her favourite brooches. I was on my own now and, not having anywhere to live; I was going to be travelling light for some time. In fact, I could go so far as to say that there was nothing keeping me in the town anymore. So maybe the time was right to move on and base myself where it was all happening around the capital, London.

  By week’s end we had returned to London and were back into the swing of things with the tour, which was good for my financial situation, as I had to pay the band even when we were not playing. We were on what was known as a pub circuit, with venues like the Brentford Red Lion and the Hammersmith Palace. They were good venues and we had a lot of fun playing at them. We were also amazed to find that "Dog Day Afternoon" had reached number 7 in the charts that week, something I had forgotten about completely while sorting out my Mothers affairs.

  Norm managed to get us a spot on Top of the Pops that same week. It was all hastily arranged and we had to slot it into all of our other commitments and engagements, which had to be honoured. For the venues, the rise of our record sales had been a blessing in disguise, because contracts had been signed when we were nobodies and so they had hired us very cheap. Suddenly here we were, all budding chart toppers who could have been earning a fortune but had to honour our contracts for peanuts. Hey but that’s life. We just had to get on with it and take what life threw at us. As a card player I’ve always said that you can only play the hand that has been dealt you.

  The day that we all arrived at the BBC television studios was an eye opener for us. It was something new and completely different from what we had imagined whenever we watched the show on TV. The first big buzz we all got was, being amongst some of the top groups and singers in the country, people we had only read about in newspapers and magazines or listened to on records. Suddenly, here we were rubbing shoulders and talking to them. The next big shock came when we set ourselves up on the stage to play, only to find out that we were to do neither. In fact we had to mime to the record. Therefore, as far as I was concerned it didn’t matter who played on the record and who mimed alongside me either way, the public would not have known. I made myself unpopular with the show’s producer at the time by remarking that if I had known how it was all done, I would have brought a couple of monkeys along with me. Unfortunately, I played right into her hands when she replied that she thought I had. Therefore, in the end it was all a bit of an anti-climax. It did not even matter if we acted badly because the producer would cut away from you and just position the camera in such a way that the public could not see your lips moving. The only thing real was the screaming fans that cheered for you as you were introduced, although they were told when to start and when to stop. They had all been pre-selected from a long queue outside the back stage door a couple of hours earlier. I’m sure they were chosen for the high notes that they obtained while screaming. However, they were faded out as the record was introduced and off you went. I have always felt sorry for the acts appearing on the show that had funny introductions to their records so that the singer missed his queue to come in. There can be nothing more embarrassing than somebody not singing while the record is playing.

  The whole incident brought back memories of old black and white films, when the singer was accompanying himself on guitar. If you look closely, some of the guitars did not even have strings on them. Later, that was to be what happened to the great Elvis Presley on a couple of occasions.

  With our growing success around the London area, Norm managed to book us into a regular bed and breakfast place. We finally had a headquarters, in the London suburb of Bermondsey just south of the Thames River. This made life a lot easier for us; it also meant that we could leave all of our clothes and personal belongings safely locked away in our rooms and not have to cart them around with us in the back of the van. I’m sure that by this time none of us knew what an ironed shirt was; that was a luxury we had not tasted for weeks. In my case, it was something that I would have to get used to
as my Mother used to do all my ironing for me. Unfortunately, in those days there were no such things as non iron shirts, although we did have the luxury of drip dry shirts if you could afford them, they were way above our clothing budget. How did the television advert of the day go, "Rael Brook shirts with the London look".

  This new set up was great as it meant that we could drive back to the digs each night and get a nice uninterrupted sleep, while at other times we could move onto the nightlife anywhere we choose in the capital. The sleeping arrangement was quite funny as we all had to double up with somebody else, so it was a good job that we all got on well with each other. I ended up with Ginger, as we were both on the same wavelength in the music stakes. He knew what I was trying to achieve, which was almost the same as him. While on stage he could anticipate exactly what I was going to do next. He knew when I was going to throw a lead break at him and would make full use of it, drawing the lime light squarely to him. However, being the good showman that he was, he never stole it from me. More to the point, he knew how to play a lick that would make me sound and look like the main attraction that I was. Of all the musicians in the band, he was the one whom I did not want to lose. He and I could go along way together and we both knew it. With all this in mind, whenever we had time in that tiny little room of ours, or we could not sleep, music was always our conversation subject. We would talk about what we wanted for the future, how we could better what we were doing. We were so close and heading in the same direction. On the social side, when one of us picked up a girl for the night, the other would usually pick up her mate. That’s assuming that her mate was a girl. We had many foursome night outs together.

  With all the good luck and friendly news that seemed to be surrounding us, it was as though we could do no wrong in the music stakes. However, I could not help thinking that in the past there were many times when we had all been brought back down to earth with a big bump, as lady luck deserted us and once again something bad suddenly reared its ugly head in front of us. So I guessed that it would only be a matter of time before something turned up.

  No sooner had these negative thoughts entered my head than the next piece of bad luck suddenly arrived in the guise of Steve Johnson, our rhythm guitarist. Now, I know that none of us were angels in the having a good time department, but Steve had gone way over the top. His main problem was that he had been moving in a different circle of friends to the rest of the band. Since our popularity had escalated, he had befriended many local musicians and had been visiting the local nightclubs around the London area when our shows were over. Therefore, it was only a matter of time before his drug habit also escalated, as he moved onto ever harder drugs to experience the bigger kicks that his friends promised.

  It all came to a head the night he failed to turn up for a booking and I had to ask the supporting act if we could borrow their rhythm player for the night. Lucky for us, he was good and we had no problems, other than missing Steve’s vocal harmonies. If that wasn’t bad enough, later that very same week he missed another couple of gigs and that really got me going. We had a flaming row and I laid the law down to him, telling him to shape up or ship out. He then caught me off guard when he apologised and told me that he would make an effort as long as we allowed for his drugs problem, which he promised he would do something about. The whole band was behind me when I told him it was no problem. If he needed help we would all go out of our way to support him. However, I think it caught us all off guard as we had expected Steve to climb on his high horse and to fight with us tooth and nail. Somehow, he had turned completely around from what we had all expected and sounded sincere in what he promised us.

  I knew that his problem was heroin and that it was not going to be easy to get him off it, but at least he had admitted that he had a problem and told us that he would make an effort. It was a start. I had been led to believe that most addicts never admit that they are hooked, usually accusing everyone else around them of having the problems. It usually just ends up in a storming row, with both parties walking away from each other and nobody seeking help. That day, Steve sounded so sincere to me. I trusted and believed his every word.

  Later that night, there was no problem when we played at the Wild Man Hotel in Guilford. Okay, Steve made a few mistakes, but we all let it go over our heads and just got on with the show. I mean, we knew that he’d made a mistake but it was not worth letting the audience know. After all, it was a good bet that they had missed it anyway. It’s something that I have always done on stage; whenever a mistake is made, I would keep looking straight ahead. If you looked at the culprit then the audience would also look at him, wondering what had happened. There was always plenty of time backstage to sort out our problems amongst ourselves. Why involve people that it does not concern?

  However, I must have been stupid if I thought that Steve would stick to his word. After all, as I have just explained, most people hooked on the hard drugs cannot help themselves. Well, that is exactly what happened to him. He drifted back into his old ways and constantly turned up late for bookings. When he did eventually arrive, he was usually accompanied by a large group of people who were total strangers to us. His playing on stage became erratic and all over the place, and left a lot to be desired. The final straw came when once again, without explanation; he failed to turn up completely for two of the gigs.

  It was a very hard decision to drop Steve from the band, but Norm assured me that it had to be done before further damage was done to our ever-increasing publicity machine, which was by now dropping into top gear. Norm even offered to be the one to break the news to him, but I explained that it was my band and so it was my job to tell him. It was made easy for me when he turned up in such a state that there was just no way that I would let him on stage in the condition that he was in. Steve became very aggressive, as would be expected of someone being shown the door to what was probably going to be a successful career. At one time, he became so violent that I had to get a couple of security guys at the venue to physically frogmarch him out of the building before somebody called the police. Unfortunately as they were manhandling him from the dressing room, the replacement guitarist we had hired for the night arrived on the scene. It did not take Steve long to realise who he was, as he was carrying a guitar.

  It was hard enough getting rid of him, but what we didn’t need right then was more bad press. Unfortunately, there were a couple of people from the local press outside the building who witnessed Steve’s eviction. Coupled with this quite a few of our fans were also queuing up to get inside, some of whom were Steve’s ardent fans.

  The next day, as I arrived at a venue, I was faced by a barrage of press and media personnel, all throwing questions at me as to the fate of Steve. As far as they were concerned, I was the big bad ugly guy who had thrown him out of the band. The whole incident was getting out of control, while all I wanted to do was to protect Steve from any further press regarding his condition. If I told the truth, then he would be persecuted further. If I told a lie by making something up, there was a good chance that it would all blow up in my face later and I’d be accused of being a liar. Some of the guys in the band told me not to worry and to treat it like we used to in the early days, when any publicity was good publicity and to hell with them. However, it was different now, as we were not running our own publicity department; for that we had Norm, and he had hired an army of so-called experts on the subject.

  Then, right in the middle of these troubles, would you believe that "Dog Day Afternoon" caught us all by surprise and reached the number-one spot in the singles charts. The band was ecstatic and we congratulated ourselves. We had made it; we were big stars now and wanted to soak up the adulation that was being showered on us by our management. However, I had my doubts as to whether we had reached the number one purely on our musical ability or by Norm’s manipulation of the chart. Whichever it was, I joined in with the band and enjoyed it for as long as I could. After all, if Norm gave it to us then there was always the chanc
e that he could take it all away if he chose.

  It was at times like this that I suddenly became aware of the power of Norm and the fact that he was not a guy to be crossed. Mind you, we had done all of our dealings so far on a friendly handshake, and so far he had delivered to the band exactly what he had promised. At that time, I could see no reason to suspect that anything would change.

  It’s a shame to admit, but Steve was easy to replace. Because of our national success, we were now household names, which meant that once it got out that we required a new rhythm guitarist we could have employed any one of a couple of million budding guitar players from all over the country. It was a time when a lot of bands were making it to the top from all over the place. Whereas in the early days the bands were made up of people from the same village or town, now when replacements were required they took the best that was available and it did not matter where they came from. Just like Cliff Richards, who had come from London while Hank Marvin and Bruce Welch, from his backing band the Shadows, had come from Newcastle.

  However, we settled on one of the guitarists who had stood in for Steve during one of the nights on which he went walkabout. Ray Taylor had been playing for "Turk Thrust and the Y-fronts", who all hailed from the Dagenham area in Essex and were a good band. What I liked about Ray was that he was a quiet sort of person who just got on with the job. He was a great player who found his way around the neck of his guitar with ease, and at times he seemed to add just that little bit more to the playing to which we had become accustomed with Steve. He had improvised very well with some of the vocal harmonies, and considering that he had only played with us twice, I was sure that he would be able to take over Steve’s roll. Ray assured us that he did not want to be considered as another Steve, that he wanted to be himself. It had to be accepted that he did things his way and was not going to be a copy of somebody who had been there before him.

  Our fans that had become used to Steve created a further problem for us. They could not understand why we had replaced him on the very week that our first song reached the number-one spot on the charts. After all, he had been with us for a couple of years and now, once we had made it, we had given him the elbow. In hindsight, it was just plain bad luck, which had once again reared its ugly head and spat at us. It was something that we would have had to sort out at one time or another. However, what do you tell the fans when they asked us at every opportunity? The other rumour that got around pointed to the fact that Steve was very good looking and usually attracted most of the girls, mentioning that I had become very jealous of him and so had got rid of him in order that there was no competition within the band when it came to picking up the girls. I did not worry too much about this rumour, as I was never wanting in that department, although it did worry Norm who felt that it could damage the band’s reputation.

  Even Ray was treated badly, just as though it was him who had pushed Steve out. Norm used to hand out small printed flyers to the fans. Giving them some sort of explanation while telling us that once we started touring nationally it would all blow over. Unfortunately, it was a slow process, until the day that the real reason became headline news in all of the national newspapers. Once the truth came out suddenly, the pressure was off us. I’ve often wondered if it was Norm who leaked it all to the press, if it was it worked, but I would not have been a part of it had I known, because it just moved the spotlight from us and placed it squarely onto Steve, wherever he had ended up. I must add that it was the last time that I ever saw Steve, which hurt me in a big way. After all, he had been one of the very first original three members of the band, and we had grown up living next door to each other.

  The roll call of honour was steadily growing. Billy the original roadie had joined the army, while Rick had been killed during that fateful drive back from the recording studios in London. This left only Colin and I from the original three line up, and Ginger and JB from the very first five-piece line up. We all started to wonder who was going to be the next victim.

  The whole affair hit me the worse, and I found myself drowning my sorrows more than usual in a bottle of Johnny Walker. Many times, I went on stage feeling well under the weather, but somehow I managed to pull it off. If it had not been for Ginger, who managed to snap me out of it, I’m sure that the band would have folded up in the long term.

  A couple of days before our one-month tour of London was due to finish, Norm informed us of the good news that he had extended our stay in London by a further two months, using the excuse that Regal records were about to release the second of my two records. They had been waiting for "Dog Day Afternoon" to start its slow slide back down the charts, not wanting to miss a single penny of its sales.

  Because of its popularity amongst the young people, we returned to Top of the Pops a couple more times, and each time the crowds outside the studios were larger than the time before. These fans had kept the song at number one for almost four weeks, something that was unheard of in those days, for a new band. However, once it started its slide from the top slot, it dropped like a brick and disappeared out of sight very fast. This left our loyal fans believing that people had gone off the band and were not wanting to buy our records anymore. Unfortunately, the truth was that the record company had been caught with their pants down, totally unprepared for the potential response from the public. Because they had not pressed enough copies, there were no copies left on the shelves.

  Regal was rushed into a position where they released the second record just to keep us in the public’s eye. It went straight to the top in one week, surprising most of the critics and pundits of the day, and started to sell thousands of copies a day. Only this time it all looked genuine, there was no way that Norm could have manipulated that amount of sales around the country, although I could not stop wondering. Lucky for Regal records and myself, they used my song "Missing You" as the A-side and placed their song "Living my Life" on the B-side.

  "Missing You" brought all of the old memories of the courtship that I had enjoyed with Jennifer flooding back to me. Every time I heard the song on the radio or sung it at a venue, it would bring a tear to my eyes. I had loved her so much, even if I had not shown my true feeling towards her and had at times treated her like dirt. I even felt bad that I had mistreated her in the way that I did. It’s very funny but until the day it was released, I had not thought much about her, but if she had been around at that moment I would have been like putty in her hands. I even tried to locate her but it was no good. Norm found out from some friends that Jennifer’s family had all moved away, but nobody seemed to know where they went; they just seemed to have vanished.

  "Missing You" sat at number one for six weeks and, in that time, it established the band as one of the most sought-after acts in the country. Top-class work all over England suddenly started flooding in. Unfortunately, we had to complete our extra two-month gigs in the London area first. This meant that the big-money rewards for the band would have to wait for a couple more weeks. Nevertheless, it did not mean that I could not cash in our popularity, as Norm booked me into several musical TV programs. I was also invited along to chat shows, which were just starting to become the in thing at that time. A couple of stars would be invited on to the show and asked embarrassing questions about themselves. Norm felt that it would be good for my image and at least I was still being exposed to the public. However, it usually ended up with a bit of a bun fight, as each of the artists competed against each other for a slice of the publicity. It turned out that on each visit I scored above my competitors as I was asked to sing, or should I say mime, to my hit single "Missing You". It was amazing what an effect it had on the record release, as sales always seemed to increase the day after each show.

  "Missing You" became a million seller. Unfortunately, I did not see too much of the money, which amazed me a little. After all, I had not only sung the song but I had also written it. Once again, Norm had to explain that the record cost around 5 shillings and 6 pence to the public. I then received o
ne and a half pennies for each sale as my share, because I was the singer. Elvis had a better deal than me, as he used to receive two and a half pennies per record, while it was common knowledge in the UK that in her early recording days Petula Clarke only received half a penny for each single record sale.

  This meant that at one and a half pennies, I received £6270 as my share. I only received 50% of the writing fee, which was 2 pence a record; because it had to be divided between the studio and myself as they had a song on the B-side. Even though the public had not wanted to hear the song and it never rated in the charts, they still got their 50% of that fee. So for writing the song I picked up a further £4167, giving me a grand total of around £10,500.

  It was also about this time that I suddenly realised that Norm’s cut of 1/6th came from the gross figure of what I earned, and so he walked away with nearly £2000 and with no expenses because I had to pay them. Then the studios deducted all the expenses incurred during the making of the record, which was known as studio time. Then there was all of the publicity generated during the record’s release, especially in the press, and all of the countless free records that were given away to the masses of organisations that were to play it on their radio programs. Not to mention all of the public appearances I had to make, all at my own expense, to promote the record all over the place. Then, because the band accompanied me on these trips, I was also paying their wages. All of these payments, including income tax on the gross figure, came out of my share. I could not believe that neither Norm or Regal studios had any expenses whatsoever to pay, and that everything they had received was sheer profit.

  In other words, I had financed the whole record deal, and for all of my troubles, instead of showing a handsome profit I was actually in debt to the tune of around £3000. The record company tried to calm me down by explaining that, as I sold more records, my share of the profits would grow. Bullshit, I told them, it was incredible that I had sold one million copies in the first place, but it was not the normal type of sales for a record. What if I had only sold half a million copies? Some top artists struggled to sell twenty thousand units. It was then suggested to me that I would make more money when I played the live shows. Because I was now a star, I could command much high fees. Yeah, and I would have to work very hard every single night to repay all of the losses I had just incurred, instead of taking it easy for a time. To me, the whole scene just seemed corrupt and I felt like walking away from it.

  Until, that is, Ginger got me to one side, and explained that, if we had one more big hit, we could name our own price wherever we went. It seemed to calm me down for a time, but I could not help feeling bad that I had been ripped off. It was a good job that my Mother was not alive; she would have had a go at them. That loan that she had signed guarantor for me had suddenly gone up from just a couple of hundred pounds to well over three thousand.

  It was no good me threatening to chuck it all in, because I knew they had my signature on a little piece of paper they called a contract and that they had me over a barrel. This would prevent me from recording for any other company, and anyway they were all hand in glove with each other. Therefore, I was stuck where I was for the moment and had to make the best of it. However, I was determined to make it as hard as possible for Regal. When we had signed the original contract, just in case they were caught with a lemon on their hands, they had been overcautious, only signing me for two years while giving them first option on a further two if I agreed, and there was just no way that I was going to resign with them. I decided to milk them for as much as I could in the publicity field, so that I could then negotiate with one of the other top companies, like EMI or Decca. It never occurred to me that most record companies paid exactly the same rates as one another.

  However, I had overlooked one clause in the contract, which stated that I had to release four records, and because I had only released two, I still had to go back to the recording studios. Only, this time, I laid the law down to everybody; if I was paying then I was to have it all done my way. I told them that I was not paying for people to just sit around in the studios on their backside doing absolutely nothing; they could attach themselves to some other unsuspecting soul. At one time I told them that, as far as I was concerned, it would be easier if I just handed over £3000 and sat back for a couple of weeks taking it easy. Anyway, I choose the engineer I wanted and he worked solely for me, and there were to be no other people in the studio that I would have to pay for. Sadly, they still won the day, because unbeknownst to me they still charged me the same rate for the studio time as they had during the earlier session.

  During the recording session, I insisted that they only use my songs, as they were what the public wanted to hear and the sales were my proof. When was the last time that they heard a radio request for one of their songs? After a heated argument, they relented on the condition that I use one of their musical directors to help me arrange the song. "How much is that going to cost me?" I sarcastically asked them.

  That was the day that I was introduced to Benjamin Roberts. It was to be the start of a long, very friendly, and successful musical friendship. "Benj", as I started calling him, was to help me enormously with my writing by teaching me the theory of music and how to let it work for me. He let me write the songs and just assisted me in the adding of the music. I must admit that I thought I knew it all, but he showed me that I was only just scratching the surface. His suggestions of changing certain chords definitely improved some songs, like "It’s Been a Long Time" and "Panhandle Blues", both of which I had written a couple of years earlier at Norms café. Even though we had been singing both songs in our repertoire ever since, Benj pointed out that a couple of the chord changes were out of order and complemented the song by making a few changes. I got so carried away, and enjoyed his company so much, that I started writing while in the studio with him. The contract held me to four more songs; I forgot all about it and went on to record six, such was the presence of Benj, and I thrived on his feedback with every line and note that I wrote.

  While "Dripping Jack" was a tongue in cheek piss take of the guy with whom we had played earlier in our careers, I had written it purely as a B-side song, along with another little number that I called "Sitting Tight". Deep in my subconscious, I must have been thinking about Susan without realising it, because I came up with what I considered to be one of the best songs I had written to date and called it "I’ll Find You". Without realising it, I was gradually changing my style. I had always insisted that I was a rocker while hating anything that resembled a ballad song. After all, I had been very critical of my heroes Elvis and Cliff when they sold out and started singing ballads. Unfortunately, here I was falling into the very same trap, and I knew that deep down it was the fairer sex that was having a bearing on the direction in which my singing was going to take me.

  While recording "I’ll Find You", Benj had talked me into using a wailing saxophone during one of the solos, and I must admit that its sound completely enhanced the whole record. It was unbelievable how something as simple as another completely new instrument could change the whole sound of a song. Up until then, the band had always been what became known as a three-guitar line up, a direct copy and reference to the highly successful Shadows that many bands used as their yard stick in those days and why not, as they had shown us all the way ahead. The only problem it gave us was how we would be able to perform "I’ll Find You" live on stage without a saxophone. Quite simple, Benj told me, just add a sax to your line up. Yeah all right for you, I told him, you don’t have to pay his wages. However, it did sound great on the record, and there was a good chance that it would enhance some of our other material. Benj was quick off the mark, telling me that he knew just the guy.

  Terrance J Spall. Benj had used Terence in the studios before, but he preferred life on the road so, as long as he was not tied up with another band, Benj was sure he could talk him into joining us. I was curious as to the J in the middle of his name. Benj laughed and told me t
hat it stood for Jesus. There was a story that went with it, that his old man had been told by his wife to register their child’s birth. Unfortunately, he had called into the registration office on his way home from the pub after he’d had a skin full of ale. When asked by the clerk for the child’s name, he had said it all a little too fast, and so the clerk had to keep asking him to repeat it. Then, as the clerk sat there awaiting a response, and asking him a further four times for the child’s middle name, Terrance’s Father became very frustrated and said "Jesus" and just shook his head. The clerk then entered Jesus as the middle name on the birth certificate and proceeded to ask what his surname was. However, a few of his closest friends just called him JC, and now you know why.

  Benj made a few calls, and sure enough, Terrance was prepared to join the band after he was assured that we were a tight little outfit. Anyway, he had heard of us because of our chart success. I arranged a meeting with the band and we had a little run through, so that he became familiar with our material. To my surprise, everybody greeted him with open arms and we became one big happy family, which I was happy to support. Right from day one he became known to us all as JC, thanks to my telling the band about his birth certificate, and fair dues to him he took it all in good fun. Overnight, we became a three guitar, one saxophone line up.

  By the time that I had finished in the studios, Norm sent us on our merry way once again to the north of England, where the locals had all been complaining that they were being starved of our music. By a pure stroke of luck and to my amazement, Hartlepool’s was chosen as our base town, and from there we would be able to travel out daily to the venues. Up until that time Norm had no idea that I had a girlfriend in the town.

  I wasted no time in contacting Susan the very day we arrived, so that we could pick up the pieces of our romance. Somehow, it never occurred to me that she might be dating anybody else. As far as I was concerned, I always thought that she would be waiting for me. Call it lady luck if you like, but my prayers were answered when she answered the call and we arranged to meet that night, as we did not have a booking.

  Susan took me to a restaurant that she used frequently and we had a quiet evening together, catching up on each other’s news and gossip. She made it plain that she had missed me, as I had missed her. I then surprised her by giving her a small silver brooch that I had bought especially for her. It must have been the first time in my life that I ever bought a girl a present, and it did the trick. For the very first time, she opened up and told me of her personal life, something she had not done in the past. She was still living with her Mother, who she helped to look after, and had never had a steady boyfriend. This I found hard to believe, as she was a very pretty girl, having all of her curves in the so-called right places. She worked as a secretary for a group of solicitors and her office was just down the road from where we were sitting. When I asked what they were known as, I could not help laughing as she told me "Barking, Larking and Farthing". When she asked why I was laughing, I had to admit that I thought she was going to say something else for the last name. I know she replied I get to hear that one every time I mention it to people. Can you imagine the sniggering I get when I have to tell people over the telephone. To her further embarrassment, a couple of people from her office appeared on the scene and made their way to our table. Unbeknown to me, when our record had reached the number one spot, she had told them that she knew me. Well, you can imagine that they did not believe her and took the fun out of her at every opportunity.

  It was easy to see that they recognised who I was, because they just pushed into the conversation. Then, to her further embarrassment, they all wanted my autograph, something I obliged to do on the condition that they would give us a little space. Unfortunately, the little gathering also caught the attention of the other patrons around us. After a quick word with the proprietor, he moved us into a secluded corner and surprised us with a bottle of wine on the house. Now there was a novelty for me, up until then I don’t think I had ever bought a bottle of wine in my life. Being the manly sort of guy, it was usually beer or spirits for me.

  Anyway, once we were settled in, I told Susan not to worry as it did not worry me, I was used to it. She confided in me that she did not like crowds of people and publicity. I laughed and told her that the next day at work, she would be the centre of a lot of attention and leg pulling. The evening was not marred and I enjoyed every minute of it. At times I found myself holding her hands as we sat opposite each other, just looking at her beautiful face. We were too far apart to kiss, as the table was quite wide. That would have to come later but, for the moment, I had become putty in her beautiful warm hands.

  As I’ve said before, I was sleeping with anyone that I could get into bed. However, there were just two girls whom I had really liked and I had not wanted to force either of them between the sheets. Jennifer had disappeared completely out of my life, and now I was completely in love with Susan and would give up everything just to be with her. It might sound a little corny and old fashioned that somebody like me could possibly change. However, I was getting older and I guess I was being made aware of the finer things in life. Our conversation became very loving and romantic, and the spell was not broken when we were asked to leave because the restaurant was shutting up shop. Susan suddenly grabbed my hand as we made our way out of the building, and told me she did not want to go home. Laughing and giggling, we started to walk slowly down the road that took us past a small hotel. We both looked at each other and, without a word being spoken; we walked hand in hand over the road and booked in for the night. That night, we both let our barriers down and for the very first time we slept together, an experience that I will always remember and cherish.