Ian Dury
Page 36
Baxter remembers returning to his flat near Baker Street. ‘I was on the tube with a bag of washing, and everyone was reading the evening paper with a big picture of dad and Bill and Albert on the front, all along the train. They had no idea who I was. It was very a strange time, but all totally positive, very moving.’ The following morning the undertakers arrived at Fitzjohn’s Avenue, telling Sophy, ‘You might not want to watch this bit.’ ‘He’s mine,’ said Sophy, ‘I’ll watch if I want to!’ They put Ian in a body bag and carried him out. At that moment Sophy had the realization that Ian’s funeral was going to attract a great deal of press coverage.
She was right. Outside of royalty it was probably the most widely reported send-off London had seen in many a year. The capital had taken the little guy to its collective heart, and his death, aged fifty-seven, was mourned by family and fans, colleagues and cabinet ministers. The funeral had been planned, in part, by Ian, with Jemima and Baxter working out the fine detail. ‘We’re gonna have it proper,’ Ian had told his friend Jock Scot some weeks earlier. ‘I want the horses with the plumes and the glass-sided carriage.’ North London funeral directors Levertons had been appointed, as was Ian’s wish. They had administered Peggy’s funeral and, in 1930, that of Henry Croft, the original Pearly King of London, whose coffin had been transported through the streets in the same horse-drawn hearse.
On the morning of 5 April the funeral cortège stopped outside Ian’s and Sophy’s home before making its onward journey to Golders Green crematorium. Floral tributes adorned the carriage, including a huge wreath spelling ‘Durex’, curiously appropriate for someone who had died within twenty-four hours of Dr Alex Comfort, author of The Joy of Sex. Hampstead traffic came to a standstill, with police in attendance to maintain order. ‘It was one of the most amazing days of my life,’ remembers Baxter. ‘It was such amazingly weird fun, and we were lucky to be involved. From the moment we woke up, there were a million incidents.’
An old gangster friend of Ian’s ‘with a name like Stanley Stichett’ turned up bearing a huge smoked trout, which was consumed al fresco. Two motorcycle police arrived to accompany the funeral procession, saying that they were big fans of Ian’s, and apologized for the fact they were unable to provide police horses. ‘They stood outside the house with their huge bikes,’ remembers Baxter, ‘and there’s Derek the Draw in the middle of them with a massive spliff on. The paparazzi were on the other side of the road, and the gangster was slicing up the fish. It was as if all of Ian’s life started to appear before us. Then me and Jemima and Aunt Moll and Sophy and the kids got in the funeral car. Aunt Moll was wondering what the fuck was going on.’
The journey to Golders Green crematorium took a little longer than expected, and by the time the cortège arrived, hundreds of mourners were gathered outside the chapel. They included Mo Mowlam, Robbie Williams, Neneh Cherry and Nick Lowe. It was arranged that Blockheads Norman, Mickey, Johnny and Chaz would be pallbearers, assisted by members of Madness, whose Chris Foreman recalls, ‘They wanted some of us, and I assumed it would be Suggs and Carl, but the Blockheads are kind of small, so they chose Lee Thompson and myself, as we are of similar height. I was quite surprised to be asked, but it was an honour.’
Jock Scot remembers, ‘There were more people than could be fitted into the chapel. People who had every right to be there couldn’t get in and had to watch the service on television screens. I was standing outside talking to Suggs and asked him if he was carrying the coffin. He said, “No, I’m too tall.” A guy came out of the chapel and said, “Full up.” Suggs said, “Come with me,” and we walked in behind the coffin.’
Annette Furley, from the British Humanist Association, conducted the service, telling the congregation how Ian battled polio and fought cancer with strength and good humour. ‘What made him sad,’ said Ms Furley, ‘was knowing that he would not see Billy and Albert grow up.’ One of the most moving parts of the service was the Blockheads’ rendition of ‘You’re the Why’, a song Ian had written with Chaz and recorded during the last year of his life.
Later that day, a huge wake took place at the Forum in Kentish Town. ‘It was a sad occasion but it was spectacularly sad,’ says Jock. ‘He wanted an Irish-style wake where everyone gets together and gets pissed.’ My personal recollection of the event was that there was indeed much alcohol consumed throughout the afternoon and evening, leaving many ‘tired and emotional’. But the musical entertainment was superb, and the affection for Ian immense. The stage was adorned with Tom Sheehan’s ‘Paddy’ portrait of Ian, enlarged as a giant backdrop. The Blockheads supplied accompaniment for a succession of guest vocalists, including Baxter, who performed a poignant ‘My Old Man’. Ronnie Carroll appeared in an overcoat and sang ‘Danny Boy’ a capella, adapting the words to ‘Oh Ian Boy’. ‘Reasons to Be Cheerful’ provided a fitting finale to a long and moving day.
Baxter was adamant that his father’s ashes had to be disposed of properly and promptly. ‘We’ve got to do it now,’ he exclaimed. Everyone agreed. ‘Derek went to pick up the ashes and brought them back here,’ recalls Sophy. ‘We had a look. Bill couldn’t understand what happened to Daddy between being here, dead, and suddenly being in a box. He wanted to know what happened to the box. I had to explain about the magic fire.’
The family hired a car and driver to take them to Hammersmith, where they hooked up with the sage-like Derek the Draw outside Digby Mansions. Sophy, Jemima, Baxter, Bill, Albert and Derek walked up onto Hammersmith Bridge and ceremoniously threw one of Ian’s old callipers into the river. It was swiftly followed by one of his favourite sticks. Then, on their way to the Blue Anchor pub, where they would remember their loved one over port and lemonade, they strolled down to the riverbank. Knowing that the tide was going out, Jemima and Derek took Ian’s ashes and sprinkled them into the Thames, along with some flowers and pieces of poetry. ‘He was now free and free of disability,’ says Sophy.
Ian’s ashes floated down river, winding their way through his beloved London, where ribald tales of ‘Billericay Dickie’ and ‘Plaistow Patricia’ were born, to be carried on the outbound tide past the Medway towns where, thirty years earlier, he had cut his musical teeth with the Kilburns and then past Southend and the site of the swimming pool where, on that fateful day in August 1949, he was tragically afflicted with the poliovirus that wasted the left-hand side of his body and dominated his life, yet in some magical way inspired him to enrich the lives of us all.
Acknowledgements
Shortly after Ian’s death, I learned that his widow Sophy and daughter Jemima might be interested in collaborating with me on a book. They thought that there was an important side to Ian that had not been fully explored or written about. I shared their views, but after various discussions about the concept of an ‘authorized biography’, we did not proceed, not least because the family were not even sure if they had much material to contribute. There were even rumours that Ian had burnt much of his archive before he died. Sophy and Jemima did, however, put me in touch with other family members, crucially Ian’s Aunt Molly.
I arrived at Molly Walker’s cottage in the spring of 2001 to hear stories of Ian’s post-war childhood. Molly, then eighty-seven, was Ian’s oldest surviving relative. I had phoned her some days earlier to arrange the meeting and seek confirmation of her address. ‘It’s opposite the Black Boy pub,’ Molly advised. ‘Does your house have a name or a number?’ I enquired. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said, a little irritably, ‘it’s opposite the Black Boy pub!’ Molly greeted me with a sprightly step and I was ushered into the parlour. A framed photo of Ian, circa 1990, sat on the mantelpiece. Molly was obviously proud of her nephew and happily trawled her memory for little nuggets of information and personal reminiscences. Subsequent telephone conversations found her less lucid. Sadly, Molly died in 2004.
After visiting Molly, I met Ian’s cousin Margaret Webb (née Dury), who filled in some of the missing detail from her side of the family and reminisced about her ‘Uncl
e Billy’ (Ian’s father). This put me on course to research Ian’s genealogy at the Family Records Centre and various online resources. Margaret continued to verify genealogical detail relating to Ian’s paternal roots and to her I am indebted. Finding information about the Walkers’ Irish roots was somewhat more difficult, but I am grateful to Robert Williams at Ulster Ancestry who helped me uncover details of Ian’s mother’s family going back to the mid-nineteenth century.
I would specially like to thank Jemima, Baxter and Sophy Dury for all their help: granting me interviews; verifying family and domestic detail; letting me view photographs and documents and granting me permission to quote from Ian’s lyrics and correspondence. This would be a much lesser book without their blessing.
Acquainted with many of Ian’s former music business associates and musicians, plus one or two of his old friends, I planned a series of interviews that took rather longer to complete than originally envisaged, but the passage of time helped me to reflect on Ian’s life and go back to various participants with hopefully new insights and questions. I would like to make special mention of the following persons, who went the extra mile and provided me with truly invaluable stuff: Mick Gallagher of the Blockheads, who dug out his diaries from a twenty-three-year association with Ian and confirmed dates, times and places, plus possibly the most candid view of ‘Dury-world’; Alison Chapman Andrews (née Armstrong), who was at the Royal College of Art with Ian and supplied me with copies of mementos from that era; Barry White, for furnishing a tape of Gordon Law’s 8mm home movies and Gordon Law himself for sending me copies of mid-sixties correspondence from Ian; Kees Bakker for supplying numerous photographs; Davey Payne of the Blockheads for providing me with tour itineraries, and Paul Phear, a Dury fanatic with an almost comprehensive archive of Ian’s radio, television and press interviews. Paul let me raid his treasure trove of Dury media and I am very grateful.
Special thanks go to Roberta Bayley, who allowed me to view dozens of personal letters written to her by Ian during the mid-seventies when he was struggling for recognition. Ian once commented to Roberta about his correspondence in general, saying: ‘These manuscripts will be of value only to my dear old mum as an insight and she may publish them privately in pamphlet form and distribute them with a shawl and a cackle.’ Needless to say, the letters have contributed greatly to my research.
I am indebted to everyone who granted me interviews and provided information or clues. Only a couple of people declined to be interviewed. Some, when interviewed, ‘sat on the fence’, either out of loyalty to Ian or perhaps inhibited by his relatively recent demise. They may have been less circumspect if Ian had been alive to defend himself, but others wasted no opportunity in telling it like it was. Would these stories have been any different if Ian were still alive? Possibly, but either way, attitudes to him were wild and disparate, ranging from those who remember him as a warm and wonderful human being, to those who thought him a cantankerous old git. Hopefully, a balance has been achieved and this is a fair portrait of the man, reflected in the personalities of those who knew him well.
I therefore thank: Barry Anderson; Kees Bakker; Roberta Bayley; Jo Bexley; Sir Peter Blake; Chris Brown; Paul Bura; Joe Cang; Pat Carson (née Few); Alison Chapman-Andrews (née Armstrong); Martin Cole; Glen Colson; Jenny Cotton; Lucy Cresswell (née Walker); Clive Davies; Terry Day; Germaine Dolan; Baxter Dury; Brian Dury; Jemima Dury; Sophy Dury (née Tilson); B. P. Fallon; Chris Foreman; Jenny Forrest; Chris Gabrin; Mick Gallagher; Charlie Gillett; Nicola Gooch; Eric Goulden; Angela Hardy; Russell Hardy; Ronnie Harris; Charlie Hart; Mick Hill; Ian Horne; Derek Hussey; Chaz Jankel; Peter Jenner; Wilko Johnson; Andrew King; Gordon Law; Belinda Leith; Laurie Lewis; Chris Lucas; Keith Lucas; Tracey MacLeod; Ingrid Mansfield-Allman; Pippa Markham; Roy Marsden; Glen Matlock; Mike McEvoy; Malcolm McLaren; Rod Melvin; Gordon Nelki; Stephen Nugent; Humphrey Ocean; Graham Parker; Davey Payne; John Plumb; Warwick ‘Rocky’ Prior; Merlin Rhys-Jones; Clive Richards; Geoffrey Rigden; Tommy Roberts; Dave Robinson; Franco Rosso; Denise Roudette; Fred ‘Spider’ Rowe; Jock Scot; Ed Speight; Jamie Spencer; Neil Spencer; Max Stafford-Clark; Leslie Tipping; Paul Tonkin; Kosmo Vinyl; Molly Walker; Margaret Webb (née Dury); George Weiss; Barry White. Thanks also to Andrew Motion for his comment about Ian.
I am grateful to the following persons who provided me with information and comments: the residents of Weald Rise, then and now: Maurice Cattermole, Diane and Gwendoline Hill and Ivy and Robert Trueman; former pupils of the Royal Grammar School, High Wycombe: Nicholas Avery, Michael Claridge, Tony Hare, John Owen Smith and Graham Watson. For valued advice, input and help: Stuart Batsford; Paul Bradshaw; Paul Conroy; Dave Cronen; Nigel Cross; Chas de Whalley; John Delany; Paul du Noyer; Bill Ellis; Ian Flooks; David Gentle; Ray Gillon; Paul Gorman; Lee Harris; Mark Kidel; Lizzy Kremer; Nick Lowe; Barry Payne; Paul Pierrot; Rebecca and Mike; Karl Rehse; Jake Riviera; Alan Robinson; Keith Smith; Simon Ryan; Mat Snow; Chris Taylor; Richard Terry; Justin Tunstall; Nick Vivian; John Walsh; Carol Watt; John Whyton; Valerie Wiffen. My thanks also to Pete Frame, for reading and commenting on draft chapters and general encouragement.
I would also like to thank photographers Ed Baxter, Jill Furmanovsky, Chris Gabrin, Mick Hill, Alain Lekim, Tom Sheehan, Kate Simon and Pennie Smith, as well as the following people who were immensely helpful with my research: Angus Fulton at Warner Chappell Music; Charlie Gillett at Oval Music; Jen Willis at Andrew Heath Music; Jonathan Simon at London Publishing House; Sarah Edis at Harrow Civic Centre Library; R. W. Thomson, Local History Librarian at Harrow Civic Centre Library; David Lovett at Harrow Register Office; Ian MacGregor, Library & Archive Services Manager at The Meteorological Office, Bracknell, Berkshire; the staff of the Family Records Centre, London; the staff of the British Library, St Pancras and the Newspaper Library at Colindale; Duncan Drury, Ian Lewis and Wendy Butler in the Records Office at University College London; Maria Ohlson, Administrative Assistant at the registry of the Royal College of Art; Kathleen Dickson and Veronica Taylor at the British Film Institute; Dan Mills at ITN Source.
Last but not least: heartfelt thanks to Lesley and Rupert who allowed me to live in my study for hours on end; Julian Alexander, my literary agent at Lucas Alexander Whitley and Ingrid Connell, my commissioning editor at Sidgwick & Jackson for her inspired editing and, most importantly, believing in this story.
And, once again, thank you Ian.
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Anon. – ‘Singer Dury in divorce’. Sun, 22.10.85. Anon. – ‘Ian wrecks bash in rhythm stock row: another belting exclusive’. News of the World,19.5.91.
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