CHAPTER 15
THE NIGHTRIDERS
February 1972 to April 1972
July 1972 to August 1972
and
KNOXVILLE COUNTY
October 1972 to June 1975
In late February 1972, I was approached to join and play bass guitar for the “Nightriders. At that time they were one of the top country music bands in East Anglia and operated from the Saxmundham Queens Head Hotel. Its owner Brian Kirk and the singer Barry Seaman also ran a music agency from the Hotel premises. Although Brian managed the band, Barry looked after its every day running. Barry came from Blyford and was a very professional guy when it came to music, using the stage name of Bob Wayne. Years later I was to learn that he had taken it from a member of the Merle Haggard band from America.
The band also included Terry Packard on steel guitar, who was born in Ipswich Suffolk. After leaving school, he had taken up an engineering apprenticeship with Ransoms and Rapier a large factory based in the town. Upon completion of his training he immigrated to Canada and found himself living in the country side, miles away from a major town. However, he over came his boredom by discovering county music. Which lead to Terry teaching himself how to play the Pedal Steel Guitar. Eight years later, he returned to Ipswich to live and to show off his newly learnt skills. In the early seventies, the pedal steel guitar was not featured in English country music bands, in fact there were not too many country bands. Therefore, it was not long before Terry established himself as one of the best in the country. He once told me that the pedal steel guitar and the violin were the two hardest instruments to learn to play, because they do not have frets. He told me that in order to play the steel as we called it, you had to learn many complicated licks. In order that he might play faster, he was constantly running up and down the strings in a special sequence. In order that he did not get bored while he practiced he would sit in front of television set. While he watched the box, he would be constantly keep running up and down the strings as he practiced each lick on the guitar, which was set up on a frame in front of him. He became so fast and confident that he did not have to look at what he was doing. It all became natural and second nature to him.
Keith Harlot was on drums and had been playing for about ten years. In that time, he had played for most of the local bands around the Ipswich area. He also had a reputation of being a good time keeper and that is what most musicians want from a drummer. You do not have to be flash on the drums, if you can hold a constant time and do not speed up or slow down. Then you would always be in work with the top bands and this is the category I place Keith in.
Barry Butcher was on lead guitar, or young Barry, as he became known. Young Barry had only just left school and had been discovered by Barry Seaman’s the singer, at a gig in Bury St Edmunds one night, where he lived. Barry Seaman’s talked young Barry’s parents into letting him join the band, even though they had to drive him to the gigs, because he was so young. It must have been hard for them driving all of those miles at least three or four times a week, because both of them worked during the day. It was at least sixty miles from Bury St Edmunds to Saxmundham. I also heard a rumour that Brian Kirk signed a piece of paper for the parents that we would look after him. He was very shy and bashful and had the makings of a very good guitarist, if the other members of the band did not lead him astray.
It was a great band and run from the agency it insured there was always plenty of work. It also meant that we were used as the support band whenever top bands visited the area. I was suddenly playing most nights of the week, which was just as well because we did need the cash, because Emily was by now expecting our second child. The down side was that I was constantly feeling tired as it clashed badly with my daytime job.
“The Nightriders” had just recorded an LP record and were having trouble trying to think of an album cover, having been titled “Take me home Country Roads”. It was decided as I was the new guy and was not featured on the record, I should at least be on the cover. Kirky persuaded a top local photographer from Leiston to do the photo shoot and hired him for the day. Came the day and we all headed out to a spot in the Tunstall Forest near RAF Bentwaters. Where I was then dressed in jeans and jean jacket and given a guitar and bedroll to hang on my shoulder. Kirkys collie dog was trained to follow closely behind me as I walked down one of the many forest tracks. This was how they wanted the shot to be taken. Unfortunately, last minute in fighting about the choice of just me on the photo nearly called the whole shoot off. It was thought by some band members that people seeing me on the cover, might think that I was the leader of the band. I had walked into a band rebellion that was lead by Barry the singer and I did not know how to handle it. However, it was decided that whenever the shots were taken, I would never be allowed to look at the camera. Most of the shots were taken from behind me as I walked away from the camera. This was all fine by me, at least I would know that I was the centre of attraction, even if the public did not. Maybe it would be something I would be able to tell my grandchildren about one day, that is if the record ever became famous. A funny footnote to all of this is that I never received a copy of the record and I am sure that I never ever saw the photos that were taken that day. In fact when you think about it, if you could not see my face, then any member of the band could have been used on the photo. It was all very confusing for me, but I liked the band and the music they made together. The reason I had been offered the job, was that the old bass player had been fed up with all of the work as it kept him away from his family. This was something I had not considered at that time.
The band started playing at the Yarmouth and Lowestoft holiday camps, almost seven nights a week. It was good and I enjoyed every minute of it. Each night we would go to a different camp, where we played to very large crowds. This meant that we were always playing to a totally new crowd so they did not get fed up with us playing the same old songs. Because we were playing on a regular basis, the music became very tight and great to listen to. However, like I said because of my daytime job, it was also very tiring.
One funny incident that happened at one of the holiday camps was when young Barry, Keith and Terry Packard had all decided to have a skylark with Big Barry as I ended up calling him. They managed to get hold of his stage clothes and in the crutch of his trousers, they smeared fibreglass itching powder. They also managed to smear some of it on to the neck of his guitar. Then a few minutes before we were all due to go on stage, big Barry jumped into his stage cloths and rushed on. I could not believe how quick this stuff began to work, because immediately he started to itch. On stage, he kept leaning over to me and telling me that he did not feel too good. At one time, his hands itched so much he could not even play his guitar, so he had to call an early break to the session. In the dressing room, or should I say kitchen, because that is where we had to change that night. He took all his clothes off and washed his private parts in the sink. He must have been in great pain, because it did not bother him knowing that there were women in the kitchen. He still did not know it was itching powder, however the other guys were just creased up with laughter. While I had to be careful, because at that time Barry was picking me up in his old Ford Anglia car, as I had no transport. You know the towels that hang on the back of doors, there like an endless loop of a towel material about three meters in length. I remember him trying to dry himself with one of these. The atmosphere became so bad that the band was scarred to tell him the truth. Unfortunately, by this time, he was getting very aggressive and threatening everybody who came to mind. Then on the way home he kept talking to me about what had happened and was constantly asking me what I thought it was. At one time, he could not understand why whatever it was had not affected me, or other members of the band. I just shut up and said nothing, hoping that at some stage he might drop the subject.
A footnote about that incident, I heard later that when he got home, he placed all his clothes in the washing machine, along with all his wife's undies. It spread and stuck to all the other clothes that included his wives undies. I think her bra caused her the worse trouble with her chest becoming very red and inflamed. In fact the whole family scratched for days until the stuff just wore away. To this day, I do not think he knew what it was and I have never been game to tell him. Let me also add that while I was a big practical joker, I never did play that sort of joke on to anybody.
The band also undertook a few tours in other areas of England at that time, one of them being in the north, around the Middlesbrough area. We based ourselves at a pub in the village of Guisbough, and from there, we travelled out daily to the gigs. This was a good tour and we all enjoyed our selves. The first night we went to the town of Concert about several miles away. Then after a long drive home we arrived at the pub well into the early hours of the morning to find the place in total darkness. However, the landlord had given us a key to let our selves in. So quietly, we crept in through the front door and made our way in total darkness to the stairs. In doing so we had to go past the Bar room doorway. Suddenly to our surprise, all the lights came on through out the entire pub. There was one hell of a party going on while they awaited our return. The lights had been switched off so we did not suspect what was awaiting us. To say that the entire village was there would be an under statement, even the village policeman was downing his glass of beer, as was everybody else. That was along night for us, as we were already tired from the gig and the long drive home. In order not to offend the locals, we drank with them until around six o’clock in the morning, when we tried to grab some sleep. The band had earlier offered to play in the bar each dinner time session, before leaving to play at the night’s gig that could be several miles away. In this way, the accommodation was to be cheaper for us.
The dinner time sessions were wild affairs and were fully attended by the whole village. We all agreed that they all must have been out of work and on the dole. However, not one of them seemed to be short of a pound or two as they spent freely behind the bar. Although I must add that over the years there has been some very big factory lay off’s in this area and the people seemed to be used to it, just taking it in their stride. During these dinner time sessions we only played full on rock and roll, as not many of locals were into country music. It was a good job that we were very versatile to be able to do so. The other big high light for them was my accent, the crowd just loved it. Even though I knew that they were making fun of me, I just made my Suffolk accent broader to amuse them even more. Suddenly, I found myself as the comedian of the band, I was allowed to crack a few jokes in-between songs and of cause, I placed a big emphasis on my accent. I could not believe that the crowd was accepting me like they were. Within just a couple of days, I had my own little spot in the act. However, it took me a further couple of days to realise that this had all happened in order that the other members of the band could have a rest and a drink. Leaving me on stage where I was still sweating and becoming very thirsty. Its funny how when you are younger you can fight tiredness off when you are enjoying your self. The drink became a problem for us all, being in an environment where it flowed freely. Because one of us had to drive the van and this usually came down to me. In addition, there was the always the risk that somebody would stuff up on stage and forget what he was playing. Overall, it went well and whatever little scrapes we got in to, some how we managed to dig ourselves out of.
On one occasion, we drove all the way to Newcastle where we performed in a working men’s club at Wallsend. I could not believe that country music would go down so well in a working class environment, as we were well received by all who attended. On the way home and while I was driving I almost nodded off behind the wheel. Somehow, I managed to swerve the van to miss what I thought was a small child laying in the road. The sudden violent action of the van awoke all the other members of the band, all wanting to know what had happened. I told them that I thought I might have hit a child in the road, so I turned around and went back. Big Barry jumped out and ran to what looked like a bundle lying in the road. He returned with a smelly sack and chucked it into the front of the van, telling me to drive on. By now, everybody was complaining about the smell, but big Barry wanted to look inside. After removing a piece of string from the neck of the bag he placed his hand inside and brought out a skinned pigs head and started teasing everybody threatening to rub it in their faces. I could not believe the smell that had by now found its way into every conceivable bit of space within the van. From what I could see, it looked rotten and green in colour. Big Barry persisted in his horseplay concentrating on young Barry and Keith. Terry was not to be messed with when he’d had a few drinks and just wanted to go to sleep. However, Barry stuck one of the heads under the small blanket that Terry was using. Suddenly all hell was let lose as Terry grabbed the head and threw it out of my window, lucky for me it was open. How it never hit me is a miracle, but I can still feel it going past my eyes and the foul smell that followed it. A few miles further up the road and big Barry dumped the sack by the kerb side.
When we arrived back at the pub, to the usual customary party, the first thing we told everybody was of the pig’s heads that we had found in the road. The local policeman told us that it probable fell off a truck that was going to the local potato crisp factory. He went on to tell us that the heads are usually boiled down and that the essence that is left is what goes into Smokey bacon crisps. I might add that to this day I have never eaten Smokey bacon crisps.
Another night we went to West Hartlepool’s and was amazed to be told that there were over 180 clubs in that area alone. If it had not been for our family ties, I am sure that the band would have relocated to live in this area. It would have meant that we could have played a different club every night and never have to play to the same audience.
We had just one day off during that tour and on that day, we all went to Redcar to spend the day on the beach. However, we all ended up digging fossils out of the cliffs. I took a very large grey stone home for Emily and embedded into it, was a perfect cast of a shell. The Shell oil company uses the same type on its logo. However, later when I left England I had to leave it behind, I’m not sure what happened to it.
On another occasion, we went to a new town called Peterlee. This was the night we thought was going to be a complete disaster. As we walked into the venue on the walls all around us were old posters of the bands that had preceded us. We were shocked when we suddenly realised that the band that had been there the night before was in fact “Slade”, one of the top rock acts in the whole country at that time.
Some agents just do not care who they place in some of the venues. Mainly because if there is trouble they’re not there to experience it and secondly they still get there commission. However, to the band this can be devastating, you are playing music to people who do not like your style. In doing so you do not play as good, where as if they like the music then for some reason you play better. On the other side of the coin, the audience have paid good money to hear what they consider good music. If they are not pleased then they also feel cheated and in some instances they will demand their money back or in the worst cases sinario become very violent. At times this can he very threatening to a band standing up on the stage with thousands of pounds worth of equipment all around them, plus a van outside. This is a side of the music industry that the agent very rarely sees, or has to contend with. He is usually miles away and only interested in making money and how he achieves this does not seem to concern him.
Fortunately, we knew of “Slades” music and once the band had set up, we practiced a couple of their numbers. Like I said earlier, Terry Packard was brilliant on pedal steel guitar. He took a plastic hair comb out of his pocket and started to experiment in using it on the strings instead of the usual stainless steel bar. To our amazement, he imitated the sound of a violin. One of “Slade’s” biggest hits at that time did in fact use a violin. I believe it was called “Cause I love Yar”, anyway with just a couple of practices we suddenly had a good version of the song off by heart.
Just like we thought as the dance floor opened up it was suddenly filled up by very young people, who in those days were known as skinheads. Can you imagine what would have happened to us if we had started singing, “Me and Bobby McGee”. I think the words start off with, “Busted Flat In Baton Rouge” and I’m sure they would have busted us flat. It was our versatility in being able to play some of the very early and easy fifties rock and roll music that got us through that night, along with “Cause I love Yar”, that we must have played at least six times that night, because the crowd just loved it.
Audiences can be very unpredictable at times and it only takes the slightest of irritations to trigger them into either loving you or hating you. If they are unhappy you can usually sense it and it pays you not to antagonise them. I always remember the story of a very young band in the Norwich area that let their girl friends accompany them to a booking. Upon one of them being asked to dance by one of the local boys, she turned him down. He then proceeded to make a scene saying that he was not good enough for her. Anyway it all ended up with the band being dragged off stage and beaten up while most of their equipment was also badly damaged. This story had always been one of the reasons why I had bought my German shepherd dog. I had intended to take it along to every booking so he could sit in front of my bass rig and protect it. However, it did not work out, as it was not practical and anyway with the volume I used to play at, I’m sure would have deafened the dog, so he would have not heard me when I commanded him to kill.
We also under took a small tour of the London pub circuit as it was called in those days. A group of publicans had joined up with each other and were using close circuit TV, so that each pub could also watch the other acts that were playing at the other pubs. I can only remember two of the pubs on that circuit, one was the Brentford Red Lion and the other one was near the Hammersmith fly over. The London crowds accepted our music although the main emphasis was on rock and roll. Two acts that were also on that circuit at the same time as ourselves, was “Shaky Stevens” and “U2”, who at that time had only just arrived over from Ireland and were a covers band.
Another tour took us to Cornwall and unfortunately that one is a bit of a blur and I cannot remember too many of the venues. What I do remember is that we based our selves in an old boathouse in St Agnes Bay and from there, we went out each day to the gigs. Unfortunately, the whole stay was marred by an incident that saw the owner of the boathouse become a murder victim. Needless to say, we got out of there as soon as possible and to this day I have no idea who did it.
From there we under took a small tour of the Birmingham area. At one venue we supported “Patsy Powell and the Honk Tonk Playboys”. The only reason I remember this booking is because of an incident that happened while Patsy was on stage with her band. Her lead guitarist was a little tipsy have taken a few drinks before he went on stage. While he was playing he was moving his body around to the beat of the music and at one stage he violently swung his head to the right, completely forgetting that he was wearing a wig. Unfortunately as his head turned around, his wig refused to move with it and stayed exactly where it was looking forward. Then to make matters worse when he moved his head back towards the audience, the wig moved with his head and ending up at right angle to the direction he was looking. I can still remember the “Nightriders” in a fit of laughter, as he continued playing for the remainder of the bracket with the wig pointing the wrong way. Come to think of it, he looked silly when he walked out on to the stage, because it even looked a different colour to his natural hair.
Brian managed to get us on to a big Country Music Festival event being held at the Wembley Stadium in London. The whole show had been organised by Mervin Con and the British Country Music Association. Who had imported a dozen top acts from the USA to get the event rolling in the main arena. We were part of a music competition that was being held between a dozen or so of the top British country bands, that was run along side of a major event in a huge marquee out side of the stadium. The winner was to be rewarded with a long tour of Britain as support band with Jerry Lee Lewis, who was to tour the county in a couple of month’s time. We managed to get into the finals very easy and were told by Kirky that we had it all sewn up. Unfortunately as we walked on to the stage to be confronted by a panel of judges that included American super stars like Anne Murray, Tom T Hall, Bobby Bare and Hank Williams jnr. With out telling us what he was doing big Barry launched himself into a small speech, about having noticed Hank Williams junior was one of the judges and that he had been a long time admirer of his father’s music. Therefore, he was going to undertake a tribute to him. As a band we all stood there with our mouths wide open, wondering what the hell was going to come next. At that time we had not got a clue what song he was going to sing. He then announced a song and counted us in and away he went. However, Barry was very lucky that we were a band that was competent enough to be able to do songs off the cuff like that. The down side is that the songs are not usually as good or as tight. The songs we had played during the elimination stages were part of our regular repertoire that we had played for many months and were as tight as a drum. It all went against us, as we all expected it would and we paid the ultimate price and lost by one point, when the final scores were counted. Off stage, big Barry copped a hell of a lot of dissension over the incident. To this day he must take all the blame for us losing that show, you just cannot patronise people like that. A short footnote is that the songs he sang were not very good anyway, I like to think that the ones we usually played would have blown all the other bands off the stage. “Frank Jennings and the Syndicate” went on to win the event that day and also the tour with Jerry Lee Lewis.
Because the “Nightriders” were also very big in our own area of Suffolk, it was only right that we were one of the bands selected to participate in a show that was put together at Gunton Hall near Lowestoft. The whole event was to be recorded live, in front of a selective audience. I guess it was a foregone conclusion that we would be added to the show. It being Brian Kirk our manager who put the whole show together. Most of the artists were solo acts, so the “Nightriders” were used as the main backing band for some of the artists. I was very pleased to be on the recordings, not only with the “Nightriders”, but also with acts like Jed Ford, Phil Brady, Little Jenny and Ray Dexter. Ray went on to be a top act in Nashville USA, with a big record hit called “Alligator Man”. However, I must add that I never received a single penny for my troubles or a copy of the recordings.
There’s a very funny story that followed Ray Dexter around and it concerned one of the top music publishers at the time a Gordon Smith. Anyway the story goes that Ray turned up at Gordon’s house one day wanting to show him a few songs he had just wrote. Upon seeing the scruffy way in which Ray was dressed Gordon, not being a person to miss out on anything invited Ray in but would not offer him a seat on his immaculately clean arm chairs. Ray gave him a cassette of his songs and Gordon stuck it in into played and listened. By the time the first song was halfway through Gordon told him to sit down and within an hour a contract had been drew up and signed.
One funny incident that happened while we playing at Gunton Hall and backing Jed Ford was that during his songs a girl walked past the front of the stage. Jed being the good comedian he was, leaned down as she went past and asked her if she was enjoying the show and of course she told him that she was. We then continued to play another song and as we finished, Jed noticed the same girl coming out of the toilets by the side of the stage. Once again as she walked past him, he leaned forward asking her if she could hear us while in the toilets. To which she told him that she could not, Jed then brought the house down by telling her that we could all hear her.
Around this time, Brian Kirk phoned me one night to ask a favour. He had booked the “Saddle Tramps” band to play at his club in Saxmundham. Unfortunately, they had turned up minus two of their members, who were supposed to be broken down just out side of London. Brian persuaded me to pop over to his club and play for them that night. It turned out to be a bit of a disaster, as the band did not seem to have their act together. I learnt later that they had just returned from Australia, where they had tried to immigrate and to make it as a band. It had been a big disaster from the start and had not worked out for them. Therefore, they had returned with their tail between their legs and tried to pick up the pieces back in England. It had also been a lie about the other two members of the band, as they did not even exist.
The “Nightriders” undertook a recording session for the BBC Radio in London, which included about seven tracks. These were then used repeatedly over a period of about six months, one track every couple of days. Would you believe the program was called Night Ride and came on after 11pm at night on BBC Radio 2. I never ever heard one of the tracks, as we were always playing at gigs and unfortunately at the time I never asked for a copy of the tracks.
On 08.07.72 while Emily and I were still living at the Whinlands, our son, Mark was born. During his birth, I was with Emily the whole time holding her hand and giving her some encouragement. Sue Brennan a close friend of Emily’s was also there. Emily had hold of my hand and at times, she almost dug her fingers through to the bone. We were both very pleased, we now had a little boy and our family was now complete. Both Emily and I liked the name Mark on its own. Like I had said previously when Sharon was born, keep it plain and simple and something that cannot be shortened at school into a silly name, yes Mark sounded good to the both of us. I was also very lucky to witness the birth as I had only just arrived home from a trip to London, where I had again been for another emigration interview attempt. However, this time it had gone well and I had high hopes that we would be accepted, so it seemed like a double celebration was in order.
As soon as Mark was born, the “Nightriders” had to leave for a trip to Germany. We were to tour around the country while backing a black female gospel singer known as La-Mel Prince, at that time she was known as the Female Charlie Pride although to day I believe she if more into Gospel music. We all packed into the bands old Ford Transit van and headed for Harwich docks and our trip across the North Sea. However, before we even got to Colchester we were almost involved in an accident and I got hurt in the back of the van. As the van lacked seating in the back, I had been sitting on an old beer crate. As the van pulled up in an emergency stop, I was thrown to the front of the van, being severely bruised. However, it was not too serious and it certainly was not going to stop us taking our trip. At the time of the tour, I was still working for Richard Garrett's and Emily had rung in telling them that I was sick. If the accident had been worse and had been on the local TV news, I dread to think what I would have had to dream up as an excuse, to tell them when I finally returned to work.
On the way to the boat, we had to divert to Bill Rogers’s house. He was the father of Clodagh Rogers the famous British female pop singer of that time. He was the agent for the tour in Germany, so we had to pick up our boat tickets from him. After knocking on his door, we went through the front doorway to be confronted by beautiful full size colour picture of Clodagh, hanging in the hall, something I will always remember.
It was my turn to drive as we came off the car ferry and I knew that they drove on the right hand side of the road. Therefore, with this in mind I stayed to the right as we went through the docks. Unfortunately, as I went through the dock gates, I had to turn left and in doing so, somehow I cut the corner and found myself on the left-hand side of the road. Mind you with four musicians all shouting in your ear, it did not take me long to realised my mistake. Unfortunately as I shot across the road in a hurry to get to the right hand side, I almost crashed into a truck. Lucky for me it all ended up fine and I set a course for the Belgium border. We drove through Belgium and Germany, but at the border, we were hauled out of the van while the machine gun brandishing border guards went through all our gear. I will give you one guess what they were looking for, but I can honestly say they would not find any in our van. We were clean but to be fair I guess they were only doing their job.
We made our base in Wiesbaden and from there, we went out each day too the different gigs that had been organised for us. We were the star act, only playing a one-hour show at each venue, but some nights we played three or four venues. It was hard work playing on stage for an hour and then repacking all our gear back into the van. We then had to drive to the next club were we had to repeat the process, sometimes going into the early hours of the morning. It was such a pace I cannot even remember where most of the venues were. A couple I do remember was, one at Elvis's Presley’s old Army Base and a couple of clubs in Frankfurt. Then there was a couple of gigs at the American Air base near Wiesbaden, these two were the most relaxed as we only did the one gig each night. One thing we did learn was that the local German bands had to play a total of five hours each night, while in England we only played for four hours. We also witnessed something quite amazing while watching these bands. While singing and copying an English song their English was exceptional, but once they came off stage, we discovered that they could not speak English. In order to play the song they had only managed to mimic it, I was later told that the Japanese did the same.
We also had an English guy to help us find our way around, especially at nights. He would always be driving ahead of us trying to find the quickest way through the traffic to the bookings. I can’t remember his name but his father was the very well liked northern comedian Charlie Williams.
The start of the tour almost started in total disaster, as we turned up at the first booking. To find that the German electricity plug outlets were not the same as we were used to in England. We had cut the timing a little tight, being due to go onstage within two hours and had no idea how we were going to adapt our leads for the equipment. However, the day was saved when an American Serviceman loaned us a special plug that was multi pinned, allowing us to adapt our English plugs to the German sockets.
Upon meeting La-Mel Prince in our hotel, we discussed the material that she wanted to sing. At first, she was very upset that the agent had not sent the “Country Fever” as her backing band. That took a couple of hours to sort out, that they had prior engagements to honour. “Country Fever” had backed her on numerous occasions in the past and so they knew her show material off by heart. La-Mel was also very attracted to Albert Lee the guitarist who at that time was playing for “Country Fever”. He later went on to play very successfully for Emmie Lou Harris. Unfortunately, for the “Nightriders” we did not know her show. Adding to the confusion, we had not even heard some of her songs before. This meant that now she had to go through all of her material and unfortunately, she had not brought any song sheets, or records to assist us. Hastily a very rushed rehearsal was organised in her room. However, this was stopped within the hour by the hotel management as the other patrons had been complaining about the noise. Therefore, we all retired into her toilet area, where we thought it would be quieter, with only one acoustic guitar. Then quietly we did our best to learn the songs that were all new to us. Now as a Bass player it is very hard to find your self all cramped up in a toilet, along with six other strange people and imagine the notes that I should be playing on my guitar. Unfortunately, there was no way to predict any problems that might arise on the booking, it all seemed a bit of a nightmare to me.
At one stage, we were locked up in the local police station for unpaid hotel bills. Only being released after the agent in England wired through some money to set us free. We had hardly any food and the cost of living was so high. At times, we relied on scrounging food left on the tables by the American servicemen at the venues. Upon returning to our hotel one night we found a food dispensing machine, at that time there were not many of them in England, so it was a novelty to us. Displayed in it was an array of different foods stuffs that included two very small green apples that caught our attention. After working out the conversion from the German Mark to the English pound, it worked out that these two apples were worth about £2.
However, we all had a good time and upon reflection, it all went well. Of cause, we made a few mistakes, but as competent musicians, we managed to cover most of these up in a professional manner. La-Mel also took the focus off the band, because part of her show was to mingle amongst the audience as she sang her songs. At times she would sit on the laps of a few lucky patrons and so with all of the cheering of the audience many of our mistakes were covered up by the noise.
While we were touring Germany the agent had another band touring the same venues as ourselves, only they were a few days ahead of us. The band was called the “Muskrats” and we had met up with them on a couple of occasions that they played at the Queens Head Hotel in Saxmundham. Naturally I had got to know the Bass player who went by the name of Twiggy, I guess a name he had received because of his 22 stone weight. However, it never interfered with his playing and I found him a first class bass player. Mind you, it was always a laugh to see him get into his Austin 1100 car. Because he had to sit with a leg either side of the gear lever, that was positioned in the middle of the car.
Anyway while they were in Germany, they were touring in an old Bedford Doormobile van, the type I had first learnt to drive way back on Snetterton racetrack in Northfolk. As they pulled up at a venue, the driver who was the drummer just slid the door back and jumped straight out. To be flattened on the road by a passing forty-ton truck that was doing about sixty miles an hour at the time. The guy was killed out right, there was not much of him left to cart away on a stretcher. The band cancelled that night’s show, but was straight on the phone to Joe Brown the cockney guitarist back in London wanting to borrow his drummer. “Joe Brown and the Bruvvers” were very famous at the time and had several top number ones hit. The new drummer arrived in Germany the next day and the tour preceded with out a hitch.
When our tour ended, we found ourselves with a long drive to the ferry that was full of incidents. The van kept breaking down and after a time, we realised that the wires were loose on the alternator. We did not want to turn the engine off, just in case we could not restart it on a flat battery. There was no way that we would be able to push it while it was full of the musical gear and plus it was in the early hours of the morning. Barry the singer tightened up the nuts on the alternator while the engine was still running. I could not believe how he handled the constant shock he received. His whole body was shaking and quivering, but he hung on and saved the day for us. I once tried that and the shock threw me across the road in front of a passing car, I’m lucky to still be around.
We were following an old Ford Tunis car that rolled off the road as it went around a roundabout. We rushed down the embankment, to find 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 bit of a mess. The driver who I believed was Turkish was uninjured, while a woman in the back, who we thought might be his wife, was completely covered in black clothing with only her eyes being visible. One look into her eyes and you could see that she was crying, while blood was also seeping through the material that covered her face. However, we dare not touch her as we realised that the driver was a Moslem. Anyhow, we managed to get the car started and back on the right road again. We found out that they were heading for the ferry same as us. Would you believe me if I told you they made it in that heap of a car and were not stopped anywhere. They drove hundreds of miles right across Germany and Belgium and somehow managed to arrive at the ferry. We followed them for some distance after the accident and then we overtook them and sped off. However, at the ferry we all had a laugh as they drove up behind us twenty minutes later. We could not believe that, the heap as we called it had finally made it. We all felt quite proud of ourselves as the driver acknowledged us by waving to us. He was probably the advance party for the many illegal’s who have since followed.
When I got back to England, I found that Kirky had been looking after Emily and the children. However, a big shock awaited me at the big money share out that I attended at the Queens Head Hotel. I found out that I owed them money, Kirky had been giving Emily more than I was earning. Upon talking to Emily, the amount she had received was far less than what I could have been earning at Richard Garrett’s. Another issue that became known, during the tour, was that the tour did not really warrant big Barry the singer going, as we were only used as a backing band to La-Mel. If the band had gone on its own, there might have been a little more money to be shared around the band. Unfortunately it was Barry Seaman’s band, so I could not see him staying behind if the situation was to arise again in the near future. The whole subject caused a lot of friction and at times a few augments developed amongst the members. Talking of Richard Garrett’s, when I finally returned to work I was in procession of a doctor’s certificate that I had managed to obtain from my local doctor. After telling him that I had been at home sick all the time and I now wanted to return to work. My employer accepted it all and I was amazed just how easy I got away with the whole episode.
The pace of life with the “Nightriders” became too much for me and I was also missing my family. It also became apparent to me that if I did not watch it, I would fall into the same trap most musicians ended in and that’s a broken marriage because they are never home. In addition, a little bit of infighting had developed between big Barry and the rest of the band. With this in mind, I called it a day and dropped out of the band in late August 1972.
In October 1972, I joined “Knoxville County” a band that was based in the Hadleigh area of Suffolk. Kevin the singer had a very bad stutter and had a problem talking, but had a great country voice. John Pipe was on lead guitar, John Roach from Ipswich was on drums and Brian Dunn on Rhythm guitar. I had wanted to return to the Rock n Roll music that I had enjoyed playing with the “Forbidden Fruit”. Unfortunately, there were not many vacancies in the area, so I was once again playing country music. The strange thing was that I was slowly starting to enjoy this style of music.
“Knoxville County” played all the usual country venues throughout our area, that I had played with the “Nightriders” and further back “Jim West and the Texans”. What did appeal to me about this band was that after a time we started including a little comedy into the act. I would dress up, get into the audience and clown around, while the band was still playing on the stage. I also had a white porcelain toilet pan on stage and would play while sitting on it. I also used pre-recorded tapes of different noises, including a loud toilet flush, all very new in those days.
My Father had been admitted into a Cambridge Hospital for a very bad operation on one of his kidneys and I was very worried for him. While at the same time I received news that we had been accepted for emigration to Australia and a job had been offered working for the Broken Hill Proprietary Company that had a factory in Wollongong NSW. Because of Dads operation I rang Australia House and explained my situation, I wanted to see my Father through this difficult time. Both Emily and I felt that if we went to Australia we would never see him again. Remember that people did not travel the world as freely and as cheaply as they do today. Australia House agreed and everything was put on hold for six months. Unfortunately, after my father had fully recovered and we re-applied for emigration, we were turned down and with no reason being given. Why we were tuned down I do not know, they claimed that they had the right to with hold the reason. However, I believe I have had the last laugh and I would like to see the guy’s face that originally turned me down, but that comes later. Anyway, with this sudden blow to us, we did not know what to do next and we spent many hours discussing our future.
Finally, Emily told me that she wanted to move anyway, or at least out of the Whinlands house that always felt so cold to live in. In Knodishall some new Council Houses had been built and apparently not many local people had wanted to move into them. Emily liked them so much that we applied to the Council and to our surprise within a couple of weeks we were offered one. We felt very pleased, as we had clawed our way further up the ladder as we called it, we were now about to move into a brand new house, to us we were about to climb on to the second rung. However, because it was such a small area and that most people have very long memories and it was not long before they started slanging us once again. I must admit that while we were in Knodishall we never made any close friends.
We moved into 9 Hillcrest in December 1972, once we were in and the locals could see what we had achieved. There was a sudden scramble by other Knodishall people for the remaining houses. We just laughed the whole thing off and made fun of the locals as they fought amongst themselves over what few houses remained. It was nice to be in a new house and we spent a lot of time getting it just the way we wanted. The first thing we noticed was how warm it was compared to the one in the Whinlands just across the road.
I finally left Richard Garrett’s for good on 18.05.73 and started work for a company called Tilbury that was into road resurfacing. At that time “Knoxville County” was only working about twice a month, so the little extra cash that I had been used to had dried up. At the interview for the job which was held in Ipswich, I was told I would be driving a roller, but after working for the company for three weeks, I was still on a shovel. I had been given a job to do and realised that most of the other guys had long since finished their tasks and had all gone over the road to the pub. I spoke to the foreman about this and was told that I could not join them and that I had to keep working until I finish my job. I then tackled the Chief Engineer on one of his daily visits and asked him why I was not driving the roller. He told me that, “You don’t expect to start at the top do you", "Is that so", I replied and walked off never to return.
As I only worked for Tilbury for three weeks, I did not get to know many of the guys I worked with, or the area’s we worked. However, I do remember one very funny incident that happened, while we were working. We were resurfacing a Calder-sac in a small housing estate some where out near Bury St Edmunds. In the same area was a very old small thatched cottage standing on its own. We watched as the owner turned up and unloaded all of his furniture into the house. Then during the afternoon, the owner brought all of his empty boxes out in to the front garden and made a big heap. To our amazement, he then set fire to the enormous heap and returned inside the house. Within minutes, a mass of sparks set fire to the thatched roof, but we only noticed after one of our guys looked up and saw it. The next minute the owner came running out screaming for help. However what could we do, there were no mobile phones in those days. As strangers to the area we had no idea where the nearest call box was, he also admitted that he was a stranger to the area as well. Anyway, somebody did ring the fire station for him, but by the time the fire engine arrived, all that was left of the cottage was a shell.
On Sunday 10.06.73 and on the advice of Kevin the Singer in Knoxville County I went over to Claydon to try to get a job with W.C. French, who was building the new Stowmarket to Ipswich by pass road. Where I confronted Peter Kendall the site foreman and was told to come back on Monday morning. That same Monday morning it had been confirmed that I could start work for a building company from Framlingham known as Baldry’s. While I was waiting for Baldry’s van to pick me up and take me to Framlingham, I found myself talking to one of the other workers who were also waiting for the van. He put me off the job, so much so I just changed my mind, went home got my car and drove to Claydon and W.C. French’s. At the site where I found myself standing amongst hundreds of other guys all expecting to get a job just like me. I was talking to an Irish guy, when I saw Peter Kendall coming out of the canteen. It did not take me long to realise that with all these people waiting to see him, I would not stand a chance. So I just walked up to Peter and told him that he had promised me a job the day before, he replied by pointing at the long line of guys and telling me that he had to sort that lot out. I then asked him to show me where he wanted me to make a start and that he could sort that lot out later. “I like your style” he said and asked me to follow him. With that, he took the Irish guy and myself and gave us a start on the site, unfortunately the rest were all turned away.
I got on very well with this Company and within a month, I had my own gang of workers. As I was relatively new to this type of work and the company, I followed everybody else’s lead, especially when it came to working as many hours as possible. During Saturdays overtime work, I noticed that the long distance travelling guys along with the foremen all went home at midday leaving us locals to fend for ourselves although we were expected to work until 4pm. As you can imagine once the site was clear of these guys all the local labour also went home. Then on the Monday morning the foreman known as Frank, would go round asking each guy in turn what time they had worked to. On One particular occasion and unbeknown to the locals, Frank had returned at 4 pm in the afternoon and found the whole site deserted. On the Monday morning he made his way around the site asking the locals what time they had finished on the Saturday. As soon as they said 4 pm, he sacked them on the spot and told them to report to the office and pick up their cards. I do not know why, I guess I am not a greedy type of person, but for some reason when Frank approached me and asked. I told him I had left off at 2.30pm, to go into Ipswich to buy some new boots. It caught him completely off guard leaving him dumb founded, as he just stood there for a few minutes wondering what to say next. Finally, he entered 2.30pm by my name and walked away. I found out later that I was the only local guy who had worked overtime that day, who had not been sacked on the following Monday morning.
Three months later I was running the side roads project for the company. Unfortunately, it was long hours with plenty of hard work, but I liked the job and anyway the money was very good. Sometimes, I would have to stay the night in the accommodation block, but the money made up for all of inconvenience. Although looking back it was another time when I missed watching my young family growing up, for some reason it’s hard to balance your need for cash to survive on and the time you spend with your families. It being even harder today when most house holds require al least two wages to support our life style. I know we don’t need all of the material things we crave, but they do help us get through life. Like I said earlier it’s called advancement, but in terms of a family life it certainly takes us backwards at times.
I got on well with my fellow workers and would never expect them to do a job I would not do myself. While Building motorways it’s always unavoidable that at some time or other you will take the top off of a sewerage manhole. These would have to be cleaned out and fixed up at the earliest possible opportunity, before it affected the local people living near by. Therefore I would always clean out the first one myself and then I could order one of my workers to do the next. This system worked well for me and most of my workers respected me for it.
Peter Kendall ruled the site with an iron fist and being a big guy one did not argue with him. If he said jump you just asked how high and completed the task. If there was any messing around or if people did not do as they were ordered, well they simply did not hang around because they were fired right there on the spot. In those days, he was God and you did not question his authority. Around him, he had amassed a small group of very close and loyal friends, who were also very big tough looking guys. Which ever job Peter was running for WC French, his close-knit group of friends would follow. Having painted Peter as a very tough unfriendly heavy guy is not quite correct, because when you got to know him, at times he would drop his guard and could be quite funny and did enjoy a good laugh. For some reason and I do not know why I was allowed into his inner sanctum of friends and over a very short time I became one of those chosen few. From that very first day, he seemed to like me, mind you I considered that I was a good worker. If I were given a job, I always completed it to the best of my ability, with not too much standing around. A far cry from when I was working for Richard Garrett repairing their factory roofs.
One morning a new group of workers arrived at the site office and were given a job. Frank the a Polish foreman who was originally my boss when I first arrived, took them up the site to unload a truckload of pipes. Where he left them, having told them he would send some help. To be fair these pipes were big and very very heavy. They would have been around a meter and a half long and at least half a meter in diameter. Upon finding the truck, they stood around awaiting some of the heavy lifting gear they had seen in the site yard, to come and help them unload. Peter Kendall used to drive the site each morning in his Landrover, checking everything out. On this particular occasion I was with him and as we were driving he would be giving me a list of work that I was to under take with my own little gang of workers during the day. Upon Peter spying the truck load of pipes and the new workers all standing around talking. He drove up to the truck in a raging temper and jumped out of the Landrover, he then climbed up onto the truck and proceeded to start throwing off some of the pipes. They must have been very heavy because it was only a couple of minutes before Peter started panting and sweating. He then looked up at the guys all standing around not lifting a finger to help him and asked if they knew who he was. To which one of them replied, “I don’t know who you are, but you’re the guy we’ve all been waiting for”. After a couple of seconds of silence, Peter jumped off the back of the truck and got into his Landrover and together we drove off. I dared not make one of my usual funny remarks, but as I looked at him, he had a broad smile on his face.
One morning he caught one of the caterpillar drivers standing on the tracks of the machine relieving him self. Peter just sacked him right there on the spot telling him that he does that in his own time and not in the company’s.
Another time Peter caught one of his workers doing something he should not. He jumped out of his Landrover and ran up to the guy, who just happened to be one of his close friends and sacked him. Now this guy was one of the elite few who was a motor scrapper driver and was one of the best. Within seconds of him being fired, he teased Peter with the starter keys and then threw them as far as he could out into a very large marsh area that ran along side the site. The argument between then soon calmed down and finally Peter gave the guy his job back. However, Peter had the last laugh, as the first job he gave the worker upon his reinstatement was to go and find the keys.
Peter used his brother as his second in command and together the pair of them purchased a farm close to the motorway. The farm became the site where everything left over was delivered, a sort of recyclable dump, unheard of in those days. Such things as spare concrete, pipes, timber or spare anything for that matter. It was one of my jobs to make sure that all this material was put to good use on the farm. I would have to guess and say that on an average day, at least fifty meters of spare concrete had to be found a new home and as there was no dump nearby, it made sense to try to use it somewhere else. The driveway up to the farm would have been at least three hundred meters from the road and we had that concreted within a month, that gives you a little idea how much material I was getting rid off.
The dumping of concrete was a subject that actually got me into Peter’s good books. A ganger man he had in charge of constructing concrete manholes had been caught dumping spare concrete in nearby roadside ditches. This was a big problem for Peter because the last thing he needed was to have the local council on his back. At that time, I was only laying the pipes but he approached me and asked if I could help him. Firstly, the manhole construction program was sadly lagging behind, he needed it speeded up, and secondly he wanted the dumping of concrete to be used on his farm. There was also a further reason and that was that the ganger man, Robin had crashed one of the works vans and in doing so he had nearly killed me. I was sitting in the front passenger seat when he swung into the site entrance and into the path of an on coming car. I can still remember seeing the horror on the two old peoples faces sitting in the car. As they, both looked like there feet were being pressed through the floorboards of their little Reliant Robin three wheeler car, in a vain effort to stop before they finally crashed in to the works van. At one time, I had been driving the van picking up the workers on my way to work, because I lived the furthest away from the site. When Robin started working for the company he convinced Peter that he lived further away from me and in doing so, Peter gave him the van. After the accident and the manhole fiasco Peter regretted being conned by Robin.
I took the job on the condition that I could choose who ever I liked to help me. The original gang had consisted of six workers and a JCB digger driver. I cut the gang down to just three using myself and the little Irish fellow Jimmy, who had started with the company the same day as my self and the JCB driver. I did a deal with the driver that upon him jumping out of his machine occasionally to help us, he would have a share of the bonus that Peter offer to pay me for every manhole we completed. The original gang had been constructing three manholes a day, we three got that number up to nine. It was hard hot work, but the pay rewards were enormous. At one time, we were earning so much money that, Peter had to come and have a word with me. At that time, the highest paid workers on the site were usually the pipe layers. It had always been that way, which is why everybody wants to work in a pipe laying gang. They are paid a bonus for every pipe laid. With in just a month we three had doubled the pipe layers wage and Peter had to ask us not to brag about it around the site, about what we were actually earning. He was worried that he would have a mass walk out of pipe layers and on that job he had something like 80 miles of pipes to lay. Along each motorway there would always be at least three runs of pipes, one each side and one in the middle. Coupled to these would be one manhole every 100 meters. Now try to guess how many manholes had to be constructed. A little footnote to this story is that at one time Peter hired in a subcontracted gang to lay a couple of hundred meters of pipe. Upon their completion, Peter went out to look at the job and saw the pipes sticking out of the ground at each end and paid the guys off. Six months later when the sub contractors had long been gone and we went to connect the pipes up, we found that the contractors had just stuck a couple of pipes in the ground at each end of the run. That day Peter was not a happy chappy as they say and we all gave him a wide berth.
A twist of fate happened to me here, when I was given the task of looking after a gang of guys erecting an Armco Culvert that is very large water pipe under the road. I drove up to meet and to introduce myself to them and blow me down the Ganger man was the Scouse sailor I had met on board the Commando Carrier HMS Bulwark outside the Barbers shop whilst on my way to Borneo for the first time almost ten years earlier.
Peter’s close-knit group of friends also played hard when they drove into Ipswich Town for a night out. All of them owned a Triumph Stag Sports car and would usually place a small dark blue streak in their hair before they went out. This was all unheard of in those days, but it was a way that they could incite the locals into picking on them. As you can guess, they were just sporting for a fight and loved every minute of it. I never did purchase a Stag Sports car, but I must admit that I toyed with the idea more than once. Before finally settling on a Triumph 2000 estate, in order that I had room to carry my musical gear and guitar to and from the bookings. As for the blue streak, I usually stayed out of that one as well. Funny when I think about it now because if I were on a stage I would not have hesitated.
Peter also arranged for some lavish parties for the workers usually in the local pubs that were usually near the site. In this way, he knew that the gangs from Ipswich would not crash it. Not that the guys would have worried, to them it would have been all part of the evenings entertainment. One Christmas I remember Peter placing £200 behind the bar to pay for the drinks and an hour later he added a further £300 to the kitty to top it up. Usually every penny would have been spent, because nobody left until it had all gone. The pubs must have also made a large profit on that job, because when ever we visited the pub they never closed until all the money had gone.
Frank my old foreman, did not have a very good sense of humour, one morning as we were in his van and following a tractor and trailer along the road. That had a few of my guys all sitting on the back with there legs hanging over the sides of the trailer. Frank remarked that I should wind down my window and call to them to get their legs up and onto the trailer. He went on to tell me that if a car were to smash into the trailer they would get hurt. I just looked at Frank and told him that then they would not have a leg to stand on. After a few seconds of silence, Frank looked at me but said nothing and the rest of the journey was undertaken in complete silence.
It was lucky for me that during this time Knoxville County was only playing a couple of bookings each month and they were usually held on a Saturday evening. Therefore, I was able to keep both jobs going at the same time with not too much trouble. Mind you, it did take a heavy toll on the family side of things. Because I would usually stay on the camp for a couple of nights a week, another couple of nights I would roll up home very late at night after Sharon and Mark had already gone to bed. While on Saturdays I would work until the middle of the afternoon, when I would have to rush home to change and pick up my music gear. Then once again I would have to rush out to the booking wherever it was, only returning home in the early hours of the morning. In hindsight, this was a bad time for me and I can now see how selfish I was. Unfortunately I missed the early years of my children’s growing up, as I had with Julie and Sue, something I now deeply regret. However, at that time I was young and it was the only way I knew how to earn a living.
While I was still driving the van, I used to pick up Kevin on my way into work. However, he started to be later and later at the pick up point. It got so I had to drive right up to his house in order to beep the horn for him. Then a couple of times I had to knock on the door to get him up and all this with a van full of other workers, all wanting to get to work. It did not seem to bother Kevin that he was late and I doubt he worried about the other workers either. The final straw came one day when I knocked him up and his wife asked if I minded waiting while he had some breakfast. From that day on, I told him if he was not at the pick up point then he would have to make his own way to work, which he did from that day. Therefore, you can imagine our friendship started to wane a little and coupled to this Brian Dunn the rhythm guitarist in the band was mounting a coupe to oust him. The band was also a little fed up with his time keeping to the gigs, but more so his time keeping in the songs.
While working at Claydon I bought a German Shepherd Dog, more as a guard dog for Emily who was spending a lot of time on her own while trying to bring up Sharon and Mark. Prince as we named him was just trouble from day one, too much of a handful for us, I bought him from a dog kennel in Claydon beside of the motorway we were building and he was sick on one of my workers just taking him home to Knodishall. We still had Buster the Chihuahua, and although he was very small they slept together in the same large basket. Buster being the older established dog was the boss, if he wanted Prince out, Prince would have to get out. However, we decided it was not fair because of the size difference, so Mum and Dad decided to take Buster off our hands and look after him so he moved to Stowmarket to live with them.
We only had Prince for a year but what a year, he had chewed all our cupboards in the kitchen, took the door off my shed and dug holes everywhere, not to mention knocking holes in the neighbours fence. One day Emily had her favourite suit hanging out to air on the revolving clothes line. When she returned home from the shops she found Prince hanging by his teeth on the suit, going around and around just like Dougal on his magic roundabout. I am afraid after that it was not too long before we got rid of him to a friend who worked for me, who lived out in the country several miles away.
Unbeknown to us somebody living at Hillcrest put in a complaint about the dog. A few weeks after the dog had gone, a policeman turned up on the doorstep wanting to know if I owned an Alsatian dog, I told him I did. He then told me that somebody had made a complaint about the dog, so I asked him to come in. I then asked who had made the complaint, but he would not tell me. Said the dog had been seen up the road on one of the farms running around with a pheasant in its jaws. With this, I lost my temper poking the policeman in the chest. I told him that the dog had not lived there for a few weeks, so somebody was making up these wild stories and were wasting his time. I never did find out who it was. Although later I was informed that I should have let it all go to court, then they would have had to give evidence in person, so I would have found out who it was. Once again so much for slanging neighbours who will try anything to get me into trouble. I some times wondered why we hung around that area catching all the flack that was aimed our way.
A little bit of fun I had with Emily happened when she told me to buy myself a new Jacket. Now I’m the first to admit that I do not buy new cloths very often and at times I wear some of the items until they actually fall off of my back. Anyway, Emily ordered me to go to Ipswich and to spend the day looking around, in order to smarten myself up by purchasing a new Jacket. Now I had been telling Emily for a few months that one day I would buy myself a leather Jacket. Therefore, that Saturday morning I found myself in Ipswich looking around the Menswear shops, looking for a Leather Jacket. It took me nearly all day to make up my mind, as there was plenty of choice. Unfortunately, I had been shaken a little when informed of the cost. The figure I had in my mind and what I wished to spend would only buy me an artificial leather one. Although the genuine leather ones cost two and three times as much. Anyway, in the end it was the fact that the artificial ones did not seem to fit my odd shaped body that made I up my mind to buy a genuine leather one. It was money that I could not really afford, but I thought it pointless to spend money on something that did not fit. I could not believe just how comfortable the genuine leather jacket felt as it dropped on to my shoulders. Talk about fitting like a glove it felt so good that I would have been a mug not to purchase it.
As I walked out of Burton tailor shop in the High Street, my wallet was £35 lighter. In fact I was so worried that I had spent that amount of money that I decided not to tell Emily the true figure, in fact I think I told her that it only cost me £20. The minute I told her she just laughed at me, as Emily is a shrewd shopper she knows roughly what things cost. Therefore, a game developed between us, with her telling me that I was lying and me telling her that it definitely cost me only £20. However, I could not help laughing and so this game has developed between us and we constantly laugh about it. To this day I have never told her the truth, so as she reads this book it should all come as a bit of a shock to her. Although deep inside I strongly believe she knows the truth, after all who can lie to a woman and get away with it.
While I lay in bed one night I was awaken by the sound of a knocking noise coming from out side and at the front of our house. As I listened, a little more I realised that it sounded like it was coming from the direction of where my car was parked in a lay-by just in the front of the house. I jumped out of bed and looked out of the front bedroom window. To be confronted by a thick foggy night, but from the hint of a street light, I thought I could see somebody with their head under the bonnet of my neighbour’s car. Not wanting to waste time dressing, I ran down stairs in my under pants and just slipped on my wellington boots and grabbed my target pistol. I then stalked my way towards the car parked by the front of the house and sure enough, there was a guy with his head under the bonnet of a car making a banging noise. I crept up behind him, stuck the pistol in the middle of his back and said, “Got yar”. The figures immediately stood up banging his head on the under side of the bonnet and turned around to see what was happening, to find himself being confronted by a half naked guy in wellington boots brandishing a pistol and pointing it in his direction. Unfortunately, as I looked up at his face I realised it was my neighbour, who not being able to turn his headlights off was trying to knock the leads off of the battery. I apologised and beat a hasty retreat back to the warmth of my bed. Only to become the brunt of many jokes around the village, about the naked highway man of Knodishall, for several weeks to come.
With the demise of Kevin in the band, Brian Dunn turned up with a new singer Dave Hanson. Dave had not sung country music before, but made the change over very easy with lots of help from the other band members. With this line up, I applied to an advert in one of the Sunday newspaper that was looking for new bands. The result was that we ended up undertaking a recording session for Radio Medway based in Maidstone Kent. This turned out to be a reasonably good recording and somewhere I still have a copy of the tape. Apparently, the songs we recorded were used for several weeks on the Radio Station. Unfortunately, we never did hear any of them being played, as its reception did not reach our area of East Anglia.
Over the years, Emily had been wondering about her Mother and what she was like, so I started to make enquires and write letters. We finally found her and arranged for her to come and stay with us for a couple of week’s holiday. We spent a lot of time talking about the past and present. Although she did scare me one day while we were talking, when she threatened me, by saying that if ever I cheated on her daughter she would never forgive me. All very bizarre really, because she had deserted her own children. Finally, when she went back to Scotland she took Sharon with her for a three-week holiday. Then Raymond another son by her second marriage brought Sharon back to Knodishall and then he stayed for a holiday with us. Raymond was a very nice young guy and seemed very different from the other children, at that time he was in the Royal Navy and was on leave. On his return to Scotland, he took Mark with him for a holiday, but I think Mark was too young to understand what was happening. Later it was Raymond who brought Mark back to Knodishall. We also had Donald down for a holiday, he was another of her children by the second marriage. I remember taking him to a dance with me one night and once the beer had kicked in all he wanted to do was to fight all of the locals.
About six months later we received a phone call very late one night from Emily's half sister Elaine, that unbeknown to us she was coming down to Knodishall from Scotland on a motor bike. She had broken down near Peterborough about 100 miles away, so I had to drive to Peterborough where I found her at a petrol station. I fixed her bike and she followed me back to Knodishall, unfortunately it rained all the way. Elaine then stayed with us for a couple of weeks. Later when she asked if she could stay for good, we really did not know what to do. It was something I agreed to, but Emily had hesitations. Anyway she stayed with us sharing a bedroom with Sharon for about nine months, in that time she started courting Neil Emerson a Knodishall boy. Later she moved out to live with him and finally they got married they now have three children.
Around that time, I heard some very sad news that Melvin Peachment an old school chum who I had known for many of years had passed away. During our school years I had gone around with Melvin his twin brother Robin and Mike an older bother. He had even followed me into the Royal Marines. Anyway, I heard that Melvin had died in a car crash near Little Blakenham Claydon when he was burnt to death. By now, he was out of the Marines and working for himself as a carpenter, at Needham Market. Apparently, he left the job with a dozen or so open, empty Evo-stick cans of glue, in the back of his estate car. It was assumed that the fumes from the empty open cans over came him and he blacked out while driving. He then crashed head on into another car and both cars caught fire. The people in the other car were saved but unfortunately, poor Melvin was burnt to death, only being identified by his Royal Marine dental charts. However, he also left a mystery because he was driving towards Claydon away from his home and nobody seems to know why.
In February 1976, the military bug once again bit me hard, after reading in the press and watching on television events unfolding in Angola. When a guerrilla group known as the FNLA, while being backed by the neighbouring country of Congo. Tried to seize control from the Cuban backed Angola Government. Somehow a group of four former British soldiers managed to gain control of a recruiting drive in the UK, signing up ex British servicemen to go to Angola and to help with the up rising. The group was led by the infamous self proclaimed Colonel Callan, who’s real name was actually Costas Georgiou, a Cypriot immigrant who had been thrown out of the British Parachute Regiment a few years earlier. Mind you, all of this information had not been available to the press and general public at the time.
The other members of his group were, Nick Hall who was also an ex Parachute Regiment member and became the go between paymaster for the group. Michael Wainhouse and Charley Christodoulou who was also an ex Parachute member and the crazy one of the bunch, who was known as shot gun Charlie. Because of his sadistic streak in killing most of his victims at close range with a sawn off shot gun. It has since been reported that while in Angola he once called over to him and a friend, a passing local black soldier and ordered him to open his mouth. Charlie who wanted to show the friend how deadly the sawn off shotgun was. Then stuck the barrel in the black guy’s mouth and pulled the trigger. I need not say much more about Charlie other than you gave him a wide berth if ever he approached you. Colonel Callan being the only true friend he ever had, allowed him to do anything he wished and he always went unpunished.
Unfortunately, for Callan and his little band of warriors, they were among the first British Mercenaries to arrive in Angola. With their absence from the UK, a certain John Banks took over the recruitment drive. Banks had just about the same background as Callan, having also been thrown out of the British Army and would undertake just about anything to make a quid. He was ruthless and very cunning and set about a large scale recruitment drive in the UK.
I wrote to him while he had a private mailing address in Northfolk and if you read the questionnaire that he sent me you will see that he wanted to know of our experience. When in actual fact it has since been learnt that he recruited just about anybody who applied. At one time, he even sent out a British Submariner to Angola, now I am quite sure that Angola never had a Navy let alone a Submarine. Therefore, he would have been out of his depth as they say. In fact, Callan later executed him, when he refused to pick up a riffle and fight. The reason Banks was sending as many people as possible to join Callan was not to hard to work out, as it was reported later that he received £350 per recruit. Most recruits were also promised at least £300 per week, a lot of money in those days especially if you could not find a job. I have since learnt that not many of the 116 people recruited, ever received a penny.
At one time when Banks flew into the Congo with his latest bunch of recruits he was one short of the quota he had promised and so being the callous sort of person that he was, he secretly left behind his close friend and bodyguard Leon Fortaine to make up the numbers. I have always been of the opinion that the British government knew what was going on and were in collaboration with him. During are conversations it became quite evident that he knew of my history in the military and the only way he could have got hold of that information was to get it from the Royal Marines.
Once the press got hold of the story and it all became public, they dropped him like a brick and made it look like they were trying to stop all the recruits going to Angola. Like I have said, a lot of the above facts and figures were not available at that time and I went along with what was being offered on face value, just like everybody else. However, I do not think that Emily was to keen and we had a few discussions as to whether I should go. In the end, I decided against it, but because of the interest, I had shown I felt close to the guys who did go. As far as I was concerned, I was a member of their little group and I followed with great interest what happened to them, because I knew that if I had gone with them, then I would have been in the same situation that they found themselves in upon their arrival in Angola. If you want to read more on the subject may I recommend that you read a book called “Fire Power”, by Chris Dempster and Dave Tomkins who were both in Angola for most of the conflict. It will give you an insight into the conditions that most of the Mercenaries were exposed to and all they were trying to do was to get rid of the Communist Cubans who had taken over the country. When you think about it wasn’t that what the British and American governments wanted, only they had decided to sit on the side lines and let the Mercenaries do it for them. Until that is they picked up a lot of bad press.
Now a lot of people reading this will obviously not see it the same way I did and will probably say that they got what the deserved. When you take into account that most of them were people who knew nothing other than military life. When you suddenly find yourself back out in what we call Civilian Street and with no job, it is very hard to adapt. Some people do and I say the best of luck to them, but there are many who cannot. The only thing they know is military life and with out it they become very depressed. Most think it is the big money that attracts these people to this style of work. However, some of the big names that have been soldiers of fortune have undertaken the job for no reward of pay, just a way of life.
Over the years and because of my small involvement I have collected many snippets of information on the subject, so I do know a little of what I am talking about. As you will read, in the eighties I actually wrote a book on the subject, I called it the “A to Z of Soldiers of Fortune”. In it I collated information on over 400 people who since the Second World War have been involved in Mercenary work through out the world and included a short break down of their fighting history. To those of you who are interested in the subject it is well worth a read.
Just for the record, in the end Callan was captured by the Cubans along with thirteen other Mercenaries. He was executed along with Daniel Gearhart an American and I feel that was a warning to America to keep its nose out of Angolan affairs. Andy McKenzie and Derek Barker known as Brummie, because he came from Birmingham. Unfortunately, for him he had only just arrived in Angola the very day he was captured. He had been sent to protect a river crossing that was under threat of being over run by the Cubans and was captured within a couple of hours of his arrival, while he was trying to swim the river to the safety of the far bank and another country.
There is also another story worth telling of Brummie and that happened during his execution. As four convicted Mercenaries were led out into the prison courtyard and lined up to be shot by firing squad, some of them refused to being hooded. As the firing squad raised their rifles and fired, at that very same moment Brummie passed out and fell to the ground along with the other three dead prisoners, with not a single bullet hole in him. A few of the local Angolan soldiers went over to the bodies and were about to take them away when Brummie came round. Unfortunately for him, as the Cuban soldiers were walking away, the officer turned around to take one final look at their handy work and saw Brummie moving. Sadly, he ran over to Brummie and shot him in the neck at point blank range. It has since been learnt that the local soldiers would have protected him if he had not moved.
One of the main reasons why Callan received the death sentence is because he ordered the execution of twelve of the newly arrived recruits who had just arrived out from the UK. Who after seeing the conditions that they were expected to fight under refused to carry out his orders. It was very callous and is hard to understand his reasoning. However, while in court he stood up in front of the judge and took full responsibility for his actions.
Nine other members of Callans team were imprisoned for periods of up to 30 years. It was felt that this was also used as a deterrent to any future Mercenaries going out to Africa. Which is a little hypocritical knowing full well that Governments are notorious at sending Mercenaries around the world to do there dirty work, they always have and I’ll bet that they all ways will in the future. In fact the Angolan Government had Cubans fighting for them, so were they not using Mercenaries to fight their battles. It seems to me that there is one law for some and not for others. The word Mercenary had even attracted a bad stigma to it, while today with the Iraq wars the Americans now call them contractors, funny old world isn’t it. One moment you condemn them for what their doing and the next they are described as a totally different person, but they are still doing the dirty work for you.
John Banks continued to con people out of their money and became involved in a few shady deals, at one time claiming that he was involved in an attempt to kill Colonel Gadaffi. In what became know as the “Hilton Assignment”. However, as far as I can research I can find no trace that he was ever linked to the operation, although the “Hilton Assignment” was genuine and is worth a read if you are into this type of material. Banks went on to spent some time in prison for other offences and the last I heard of him he had been locked up after falling foul with the British Secret Service over some thing that happened in Northern Ireland.
It was with this in mind that in early 1981 I wrote to the British Government asking what they were doing to get the nine remaining prisoners out of Angola. After all they would soon under take a deal if it was one of their spies who were locked away in Russia. How many times have you seen the newspaper headlines that a swap has taken place between the East and West. What about the Americans when they swapped Colonel Abele with the Russians after he had received well over 30 years in jail and that was after selling out his country and its peoples safety to the highest bidder.
In my letter to the Home Secretary, I asked him to do what ever he could for these people, after all they were British citizens. I went on to tell him that it was no good telling me that they were Mercenaries and should be punished. After all what were we doing with Gurkhas in our British Army, they are not British Citizens, they are fighting for a foreign country. What about the Pope he has a personal bodyguard of well over 5000 Swiss guards, once again they are Mercenaries in another country. I could go on but at the risk of boring you, I have enclosed the Ministers response. By a twist of fate within six months of me receiving the Ministers letter, I was amazed to learn that the prisoners were actually released. Now I am sure that my letter did nothing to bring about their release, but I like to think that it went a little way to gain their freedom.
While most of the people behind the scenes undertaking the recruitment and sending of these ex British soldiers to Angola, were never brought to justice and locked up. I can even tell you the name of a British secret agent who went out with one group to Angola. If I can come up with this information why is it that the powers that be can not. Therefore, you can see that the British Government did know what was going on and I think that they were also involved, even if it was by just to turn a blind eye on what was happening. After all at that time Cuba was trying to show the world that she was a dominant power and I’m sure America would have loved to have stopped them, unfortunately they became involved to late. It’s not a bad way to take over a country, let a small bunch of so-called renegades take over and once the hard dirty work has been carried out for you, you can go in on the pretences that you are helping out by giving aid to the country. Then you can reap all of the rewards, of removal of a communist state and secondly you can have the countries oil and believe me that’s what it was all about. Oh, and I forgot to tell you, that Angola is now one of the top exports of oil in the world, now where have I heard that line before.
I guess I have to be a little careful as I swore allegiance to the Queen while I was in the Royal Marines and I’m sure that I’m still covered by the Official Secrets Act some where along the line. Something I was very aware of while I wrote Volume 2, of the time I served in the Marines and of my active service roll in Borneo and so I had to be careful what I wrote, I have neglected to mention a few things that happened and changed a couple of others.
Months later I received an offer of military work in Namibia in South Africa. The job involved guarding farmers in the border area with Angola. A group of four Mercenaries would patrol the farm boundaries in heavily armed Land Rover vehicles, while also protecting the farmers and their families. The contract was for a six-month period that might be renewed if the conditions required it. However, I turned this offer down deciding to keep out of this type of work and opted to keep my feet firmly planted on British soil.