MANCHESTER : THE TWISTED WHEEL - Roger Eagle - the godfather of British soul (thanx to Paul Welsby and The New Breed)

Roger later found fame running Eric's club in Liverpool in the days of the city's post-punk explosion, and later helped numerous Manchester musicians on their way (Mick Hucknall being but one). Over the years he developed a more eclectic taste in music but Roger never lost enthusiasm for his first love, Black American music from the 50s and 60s.

The New Breed carried out this interview at Roger's home in North Wales in February 1999 and because of his poor health, decided to conduct the interview in stages over a period of time. This is a complete transcript of the first interview, because sadly we didn't make a second as Roger's health progressively worsened over the months. This is Roger Eagle's last interview. At the time we never expected it to be a Tribute.



TNB : When and how did you first become interested in Soul and R&B music?

RE : Well I was originally a Rock'n'Roll kid until I heard Ray Charles. The 'In Person' and 'Live At Newport' LPs from around 1958/59 really converted me. Rock'n'Roll died in 1958. Ray Charles was the first to see the possibilities of mixing different types of musics. He mixed R&B, Rock'n'Roll and even country. There were other acts at the time that were a great influence. Fats Domino, a lot of the R&B releases on London Records. Gary US Bond's 'New Orleans'. Arthur Alexander. LaVern Baker. Chuck Willis' 'The Sultan of Stroll' that was a very, very important LP. I love Chuck Willis.

How did you pursue your interest in this (at the time) very obscure music?
There were various coffee bars in Manchester, like The Cona Coffee Bar (in Tib Lane near Albert Square) where you could take in your own records to play. You would take your own in and also listen to other people's and pick it up from there. There were a few like minded people around and you would bump into them or meet them in places like The Town Hall pub.

As for getting hold of the records, you could get hold of some but it wasn't long before I was importing records directly from the States. I must thank two guys - Roger Fairhurst and Mike Bocock who taught me how to import records from the States. I was getting hold of records from the US even before they had been released there! Tracks like 'You Don't Know Like I Know' by Sam and Dave. I was the first person to play that record in Britain. It even got to such a stage that I was involved in writing sleeve notes on a Bobby Bland LP for Duke Records in the US.

How did you first become involved with the Twisted Wheel?

Before I got the job at The Twisted Wheel, my only DJ experience was taping tracks on one of these reel-to-reel recorders and taking them along to parties to play. One day I received a parcel from the US that contained all of the Chuck Berry and Bo Diddley back catalogue LPs. I took them down to The Left Wing Coffee Bar, just to have a look at them. I was approached by the Abadi Brothers who said 'we're buying this place and turning into a night club - do you know anything about R&B?' so I said 'Yes' and they offered me the DJ job there and then.

To be honest, the Abadis didn't really have an appreciation for the type of music that was popular at the club. They just saw it as a way to get the numbers coming through the door. Only once did they insist that I played a pop record. I argued against it but to prove a point I played it and emptied the dance floor. After that they never interefered again on the music side.

I wasn't a particularly high profile DJ. I didn't have the ambition and I certainly didn't have the patter. I was happy playing the music that I loved. I would play six or seven hours solid singlehandedly - with just an hour or so's break for the band - for £3 a night. I was happy playing the music that I loved but with hindsight I would have appreciated a little more money.

Seven hours of record playing is a long time and there weren't that many Soul and R&B records available at the time so I had to mix in Rock'n'Roll tracks to fill out the time. In fact Carl Perkins was a particular favourite amongst The Wheel crowd. He even played live at the club. In the very early days, when the club first started, we relied very much on word of mouth recommendations. We had the likes of Roger and Mike and their mates from Bolton, we had people coming over from Liverpool and all over the place. I guess it was the start of the whole scene where people are willing to travel to hear the music that they want to hear.

The Wheel was a big scene in the North West, how much did you know about what was happening in other parts of the country?

The only other club anywhere that was playing anything like what I was playing at The Wheel was The Scene Club in London. I used to get on well with Guy Stevens and we used to exchange records. Like I said, I was getting hold of some records before their release even in the States, things like Stax and so on. We weren't conciously trying to create a movement or anything like that. We just liked to have a club that played the right kind of music.

Obviously the music that you played and crowds that you attracted were very much part of Mod culture. Did you class yourself as a Mod? Did that side of things appeal to you?

No, not really. You could say that I tipped my hat towards the things that were happening. But it was the music that came first and was paramount above everything else to me. Of course I dressed in the styles of the day. I was smart but I wasn't at the sharp end style-wise. My money went on vinyl and importing new records. I left the clothes obsession to the kids coming to the club.

Did you set out to make The Wheel a Mod club?

No, as I said before, it just grew and happened. You knew what was going on though. The punters were generally sharp but some were way ahead. I couldn't keep up with them ! I got respect through the records that I was playing. That to me was enough.

Although many people often forget it, The Wheel did have a bit of a reputation for the quality of live acts that played there, many of which were White kids influenced by the kind of music that you were playing.

Yes, we had the lot. I used to be friendly with Steve Winwood. He would come round to my place and listen to records when The Spencer Davis Group played the club. Georgie Fame did some good things - very King Pleasure influenced. The important thing is to take the influence and then add a twist and take it on further. It's important to remember that there is a big big difference between Club Groups and Pop Groups. Eric Clapton was a good friend at that time. I remember one Sunday morning after he had played at the club, he brought a good-looking young Mod girl round to my place and she got completely pissed off because all he wanted to do was listen to Freddy King records.

In 1965, the 'original' Twisted Wheel in Brazennose Street closed down and a 'second' Wheel opened in Whitworth Street. Legend has it that the original crowd didn't move on to the new club. Is that true?

No, that's not true. The music policy at the new club was just the same. I moved over with the club, I spent roughly two years at the first Wheel and a year at the second, roughly.



During 1966, you left The Wheel. Why?

Well, I left because they wouldn't pay me a decent wage. After three years hard graft for maybe £3 a night I asked for a fiver and they said they couldn't afford it. I was also getting bored with the music and there were a lot of pills going on. Kids were in trouble with the pills and all they wanted was that kind of fast tempo soul dance. So, I was very restricted with what I could play and I thought 'I'm not getting paid enough money to do this - I ain't going to do it no more'. So I left and immediately got paid a decent wage by Debbie Fogel at The Blue Note Club. I got a fiver a night for four nights, besides doing other things.

I was able to play the kind of music that I liked. The range of music. Whereas the pill freaks only wanted the same dance beat - which is what makes it so boring. Its okay you know there were some decent sounds but they made it so boring. You're trying to talk to kids who are off their heads all night on pills and its really hard. And the Abadis didn't want to pay me what I felt I was worth.

So you just completely disassociated from them ?

Gone. Yeah. I was a black music fanatic and I had respect for what I was dealing with - I don't think they did.

And then you started the Staxx club. Was that after the Blue Note?

Yeah, briefly. It was at the The Three Coins in Fountain Street. The music policy was similar. It was R'n'B and Soul. But you see I was trying to play funk. Early funk. In fact, 'Funky Broadway' by Dyke & The Blazers was probably the last record I played at The Wheel. It was just starting to change and they didn't want it. They didn't want it to change. It just split. I was progressing to funk, very early funk but they didn't want to go with it.

So when you started the Staxx Club, presumably you were pulling in a different audience to the one that you had had at The Wheel?

I don't know really. They were just people around town. Pill freaks that just popped in and out. You can't look at it with hindsight, at the time it wasn't 'oh we're going to start a movement!' . It was just the place to be. It was the place for The In Crowd...for a while.

And then you moved completely at a tangent to the Magic Village Club?

I just started getting into rock. It was a completely different track. Things like Captain Beefheart, John Mayall, The Nice and so on.

That's just about taken us through your 'Soul Years' but there's just one last question. It's about a story that's become almost an urban myth - and we wondered whether you could clear it up once and for all. It's about the time that The Rolling Stones came down to The Wheel after playing a gig in Manchester...

Yeah. I'll tell you exactly what happened. The Stones came down to the club and they were standing in the coffee bar having a cup of coffee. The kids were standing round them - just looking at them. Not talking to them - just looking. And I played all of the original tracks off their first album, which had just come out....'I'm A King Bee' by Slim Harpo, 'Walkin' The Dog' by Rufus Thomas, Arthur Alexander... They knew exactly what I was doing... I played them in exactly the same order as the LP. It was just me saying..there's a North/South thing. I'm a Southerner by birth - but a Northerner by emotion. I prefer the North. I'm not saying I don't like Southerners, but they tend to be so temporary down there. To me if something's solid then its worth looking after. Whereas they're into it and out of it. Which is really not the Northern style.



I actually got on OK with The Stones. Brian Jones bought a copy of R&B Scene [Roger's own magazine fom the early/mid-60's] from me when I was in London. Mick Jaggger once bummed a cig off me. That sums up The Stones for me. But joking aside, I'm one of the DJ's that publicised the music, but when when The Stones went to The States they got Howlin' Wolf onto primetime national televison. Fucking Hell. That's the thing to do. I admire them for doing that.

I'd be playing tunes in the club and those guys would be listening. You know Rod Stewart and those guys. Pete Stringfellow used to come over and write down the name of every tune that I played. I didn't really know what was going on. I wasn't sharp enough business-wise to realise what I had going. I'm not bitter about it because I am absolutely totally committed to the music. It means so much to me.

I recently met this black American guy who came over to see me. He's at University in The States and he's doing a thesis on Northern British Appreciation of Black American Music. He'd been to see everybody on the Northern Scene...all the Northern DJ's and so on they all said 'go and see Roger Eagle - he started it all'. Eventually he turned up here with a camera and I blew his head off completely. I started playing him tunes...he went away with a cassette - with what you would probably think are fairly obvious tunes on it. His mind was completely wrecked. This guy's in his 40's, maybe 50's and he's a serious man ....and he's never heard Ray Charles! I said, if you want to talk about Northern Soul there's plenty of people better placed than I am to tell you ...but if you want the history about white Northern English appreciation of Black American music you talk to me! I'll straighten it out for you. I did.

I said: this is where it started in the 50's. When it was exciting. I don't want to know about white artists ripping off black artists ...that's bollocks. Everybody covered everyone else! Nat King Cole - one of the most successful black entertainers of all time - he would cover white show tunes, pop tunes, blues tunes - across all boundaries. He didn't care. Ray Charles was one of the first black artists to see the possibilities. I said to this guy 'have you ever heard "I'm Moving On" by Ray Charles? As far as I know it's one of the first cases of a black artist covering a Country & Western song - a Hank Snow tune'. I had to put it on tape...he'd never heard it. I love the train rhythm through the track building up towards the end. As far as I'm concerned a tune this strong ought to be played. I bet you've heard it so many times without really clocking just how strong a track it is. It's a head record. Atlantic were starting to experiment with different instrumentation. Moving away from the basic drum, bass, guitar, sax and piano. They put a distorted pedal steel guitar on it. It's one of my all time favourite records.

Ray Charles is the only artist I've never managed to meet. I was at the Free Trade Hall and he walked right past me. His bodyguards - New Yorkers in pork pie hats and shades - said 'Yeah you can talk to Ray..... in London. Make an appointment son'. I said 'No I want to talk to him here.....'. It's a shame. It was about '63/'64 he had a huge, huge band.....but he'd lost it by then. You know I talk to people about Ray Charles and they immediately think 'Take These Chains From My Heart' and they say 'Ray Charles??'. He was a genius.

This interview was originally published in issue 2 of the Mod 'lifestyle' fanzine The New Breed.

click here for original source

TOTTENHAM : CLUB NOREIK mod crowd (source youtube)

MODS and ROCKERS (source youtube, NDR)

LONDON : THE SCENE CLUB and THE GOLDHAWK (source Blue Dot, friends of the Scotch of St James, thanx to Dave Edwards and Scene 64)

THE SCENE CLUB

The Scene Club in Ham Yard, Soho was thought of by many as Mod Central. It wasn't a hugely popularised place filled to bursting with people, but more of an underground club where only the top mods hung out, and the whole mod style was created. The club's decor didn't match the smart cut of their clothes, being a bizarre dingy basement catacomb where the walls were padded and the floor was littered with cushions, but it was ideal for the pilled lifestyle they led, where you were buzzing into the early hours of the morning and needed a club that stayed open as late as 5am on a Sunday. The Goldhawk may have been a club for drinkers, but the Scene was deffinately designed for pills.

"The Scene was really where it was at, but there were only about fifteen people down there every night. It was a focal point for the mod movement. I don't think anyone who was a mod outside Soho realised the fashions and dances all began there." Pete Townshend



THE GOLDHAWK

It's been said that the outside of The Goldhawk Road social club in Shepherds Bush resembled a women's institute private residence with five steps leading up to a big oak door and billboards each side of a little patch of grass at the front advertising upcoming bands like The Birds and The Who. Inside the place was quite unlike the women's institute though, a pretty rough venue where brawls happened almost nightly and the music was playing so loud that it was impossible to get the bouncer to hear you knocking on the door if you arrived a bit late... unless you happened to be Roger Daltrey who once threw a fit at being locked out on a night he was playing there and bashed the door open with his fist.

Membership was five shillings which you gave to admissions officer Kenny Spratling in return for a blue card which carried your name and membership number on the top and a long list of the rules and regulations on the inside. The card admitted you to the bar which mainly served out halves and bitters in a mod world where pills were the real scene. It was easier to go down the stairs to the small soft drinks bar which held only four or five tables.

To get to the dancefloor surronded by big sofas you had to pass through a door frame hung with Chinese plastic drapes that seperated it from the soft drinks bar. The usual ettiquette was to slip your hand between the drapes and slide onto the floor, but Mods with aspirations of being one of the Faces jammed their hands firmly in their pockets, fixed a scowl on their faces and stormed through with a mass of multicoloured drapes streaming from their shoulders. The music there, besides live bands, consisted of the likes of John Lee Hooker, and all present on the dance floor were expected to know the right dance steps that went with certain top records.

The Goldhawk was one of the best places for live bands on Friday and Saturday nights, supporting London's premiere bands, but unlike the clubs up west it slung everyone out at 11pm. That just meant that at 11 you headed for the other clubs right out round Wardour Street. But it was worth going to a club that closed so early if you got to see bands such as Screaming Lord Such and the Savages, The Undertakers, The Who, The Herd, The Birds, and Johnny Kidd and the Pirates.

On Friday nights the club was mainly filled with lads because most of the girls who frequented The Goldhawk worked on Saturdays. But Friday night was usually Who night and during the gaps between their sets lead guitarist Pete Townshend would usually be found heading straight for the dancefloor trying out the new steps as they were given birth by the local Mods and having them perfected by the time he was back on stage.

LONDON : THE FLAMINGO CLUB (source Mick Hall)

Rhythm, Blues and Anti Racism, Live at the Mingo

The Flamingo Jazz Club which operated out of a dingy basement in London's Wardor Street Soho in the late 1950s and the first half of the 1960s, has become legendary amongst cultural buffs of that city and was recently featured in the BBC2 documentary Soul Britannia, which looked at the history of Soul music in the United Kingdom. The Club is also a sweet memory of those of us who when teenagers spent our weekend's in its sweaty bowel's. Although if one reads the odd article on the Flamingo Club that appears these days, one may get the impression it was a Mod club,* which whilst half true is far from the actual story. It is true the more adventurous Mod's who inhabited London's West End back then, gradually became regulars at the club and by 1963 the music played within the Flamingo was entirely within the Mod tradition, but this is a chicken or egg conundrum as the claim could equally be made that the Flamingo was a major influence on the music that became inherent within Mod culture rather than the other way around. No, the Flamingo was much more than a club where members of the youth cult known as Mod's hanged out, it was the precursor of the ethnic melting pot London was to become and this was reflected in the sounds played within the club. Indeed ask any old Mingolian why their anti racist roots are so firm; and it is a fact few who were Mingo regulars ended up as racists, they would not reply with the names of the great men and women of the civil rights and anti racist movement, nor from having been racially abused themselves but because for a short period of time their roots lay within that grubby Wardor Street basement lovingly known to us all as, 'the Mingo'.

There were two main Soho clubs in the 1960s that could be exclusively called Mod hangouts, The Scene in Ham Yard and the Discotheque in Lower Wardor Street. In both of these clubs the sounds were American R@B with a touch of Jazz and West Indian Bluebeat. Whilst today's media may go on about how UK bands like the Who, Kinks and the Small Faces provided the soundtrack for the Mod scene, I don't recall ever hearing any of the music of these bands being played within any of the West End Mod hangouts, although Millie Small, Prince Buster, James Brown, Chuck Berry, Jimmy Smith, Bo Didley and Cannonball Adderley were regularly blasted out, bouncing off the ceiling and out into the street. However for many of us Mods, neither of these clubs were a touch on the Mingo, the Scene was elitist, look at me am I not a face, an edgy place with a certain violence lurking beneath the surface, which often erupted outside in HamYard . Whilst the Disc as it was known was more of a rough and ready joint, it had old mattresses along one wall, more welcoming that the Scene; and for me it provided a taster of what was to come, whilst the music was Black, the cliental of both the Scene and Disc were almost exclusively white.



Just up the road from the Disc was the Flamingo Jazz Club, around the door of which grouped throughout the night its then cliental having come up for a breather. Mainly newly arrived West Indian immigrants, plus a sprinkling of black GIs based at the US air bases scattered across the south of England and East Anglia, plus a lesser number of white jazz cats. Us young Mods, who thought back then that we were at the fore of the UK street fashion scene and as hip as hell with our Ben Sherman shirts, mohair suits and blue beat hats, would get a fair bit or ribbing and a little abuse when we walked past the Mingo from the black guys hanging around its stairwell. Most of us Mod's were then in our mid teens, whilst the Mingo regulars then were somewhat older, early to late twenties. We gave as good as we got although occasionally one of the black guys would chance his arm and half heartedly attempt to roll one of us, on the odd occasion when some blocked up kid new to the scene would hand his cash over whilst in a drugged daze, one of the other brothers would more often than not put a stop to it and return his cash, after deducting a shilling or two as a lesson for the youngsters gullibility.

Before I go on what you have to understand is Britain was far from the multi racial society it is today and most Mods lived in parts of London or the Home Counties which had few black faces; the more so in the New Towns and estates of the south east of England, like Welling Garden City, Hemel Hamstead, Basildon, South Ockendon-Belhus etc, which had been built to take up the housing slack brought about by the bombing of London during WW2 and the determination of the post war Labour Government to at least attempt to build homes fit for heros, and replace the wretched slums that surrounded most big cities in the UK. Thus all these Black guys on the street in Wardor St were something completely new and in truth somewhat intimidating for most of us, or would have been if we were not so young, naive and adventurous in search of a good time [stoned-out too]

Given time many of us began to wonder what it was like down in the Mingo basement; and as tales of fantastic live music down below began to seep along the street, not least that a young organist and his band named Georgie Fame and the Blue Flames were bringing the house down at weekends, the more adventurous of us decided to give it a go. Dube's [purple hearts]downed we ventured forth, through the crowd hanging at the entrance we went with trepidation, down the stairs to the door where John Gunnell, one of the two brothers who ran the Mingo took your cash, half a quid, normally paid with a ten bob note and then you were in. On entering you were hit by a wall of cheap perfume and roll on deodorant, smoke, sweat and dancing bodies, all accompanied by a throbbing R@B soundtrack. As you pushed your way to the front there were three rows of old cinema seats in front of which there was a small stage for the band to perform on, with Hammond Organ, drums and amplifiers set up. To the left on a raised platform, there was a coffee bar type area from where you could oversee the stage and the rest of the club, a foot or so below and from which you could view the band and check out the girls dancing before you [attempted to] make a move.

John Gunnell always introduced the bands, he is heard doing so on the live album Georgie Fame, Rhythm and Blues Live at the Flamingo, which captures the moment perfectly. Whilst Mr Fame was undoubtedly the star within the stable of Mingo artists,** [most of whom the Gunnell Brothers also managed] we all had our own particular favorites, and I like most Mingolians would diligently get the Melody Maker every Thursday to see who was doing the Saturday Allnighter -12 midnight to 6-am, and in case we had any energy left, the Sunday afternoon 3 to 6 pm slot. My heart used to sink if it was John Mayall, not because he had a crap band, far from it, but he was so self indulgent, a Blues purists who saw himself as a middle class intellectual in the jazz club habitue mold, back then he failed to understand to us mods, black music was not an intellectual thing, but was there to lift our spirits and move us emotionally, to take us beyond our lives as factory fodder or to lighten our days at school, where we were be educated to become the cart horses of capital and with a big stick at that.. So if Mayall was playing the Sunday slot it was a nono, as most of us would be done in from the all-nighter and suffering a vicious come down, so John singing about struggling up another bloody hill was going to do us no good at all.



With the influx of us young Mod's and our coming together with the black brothers, the Mingo had moved beyond a jazz club atmosphere and John was the wrong band for the club the Mingo had become.. The whirling thump of the Hammond organ and horns is what we wanted, with a singer who punched a whole in our souls, we wanted to be lifted not driven down into our boots. Having said this Chris Farlowe who was one of my favorites got by without a horn section, but he did have Albert Lee on guitar and Dave Greenslande on organ and for some reason, when ever other singers came down to the club it was with Chris and the Thunderbird they more often than not sat in. Remember things were different back then, whilst of course there were many late night drinking clubs in the West end, an allnighter that had live music was very rare. Only Ronnie Scott's [old club] in Gerard Street, which was directly opposite the Mingo springs to mind. There was Ken Colyer's Studio 51 which used to have an all-nighter now and again, but it was full of middle class trad-jazzers and was an acquired taste to say the least and for me the atmosphere was a kin to an average students bar of the age, although in truth back then I had never been in a collage let alone a students bar. Thus many musicians who had been gigging around London and the home counties would turn up in their early hours to sit in and blow their horns, Eric Burdon and saxophonist Dick Hecksal Smith were the two I remember most, at his best, long before he became a born again American, Burdon was a wonderful singer. I saw him and Farlowe on more than one occasion bring the house down, not least when dueting with Stormy Monday Blues, just magnificent. Rod the Mod's mentor Long John Baldry also sat in from time to time, often he was simply on the pull. As to did Jimi Hendrix, just the once mind, fresh off the plane from the US. I also remember Chris Barber the Trad jazz guy often turning up in the small hours to blow his trombone which surprisingly turned out to be a treat.

The first band I saw was Ronnie Jones and the Knight-Timers, Ronnie was one of those GI's I mentioned above accept he stepped out of the audience onto the bandstand to sing with a sweet soulful voice, Ronnie due to commitments went his own way to be replaced in the Knightimers by Herbie Goings, another American GI or so we all presumed, an R@B belter in the mould of Wilson Picket and I tell you Herb could really shake the Mingo down. Whilst he was to be followed somewhat later by yet another American 'ex serviceman,' Geno Washington who teamed up with an outfit called the Ram Jam Band, a real showman but voice wise he never came up to Herbie who had a great voice and a songbook of black music that covered the previous two decades and more, thus he often had the club in the palm of his hand.

Then their was the guy who I thought had the best name ever for a band, Zoot Money and his Big Roll Band and boy did he let the good times roll. Zoot was a bundle of energy with a smile like a cheshire cat, who owed a lot to the show band style of Fats Domino, with a touch of the rock and roll exuberance of Little Richard thrown in and he went down a storm with most Mods, especially in the suburban halls which ringed London and which most of us frequented during the week. But some how the black guys never took to him in the same way as they did Mr Fame, who for some reason they saw as one of their own as too did we Mod affectionardios who frequented the Mingo. Maybe it had something to do with having black guys like Speedy on the Congas or Eddie Thornton on the Trumpet; or that Georgies voice was just right for Bluebeat which took the guys back home. In truth I doubt the Mingo would have become the club it was if Georgie had not graced its stage, he like all great musician had pure style. Whilst on that small stage, Georgie, the Blue Flames and the crowd became as one. If you have only seen Georgie on TV shows like Top of The Pops, it is easy to understand why you might not feel he is anything special, but catch him in a small room, with the right band and the man is pure class; and still is at times to this day. But there is another reason why people like me owe him a debt, he was a working class lad from Wigan, coming from much the same background as most of us mods. Thus his love for blues, pop, soul, jazz, indeed most musical forms, encouraged those of us who admired his music to follow in his foot steps with our very own Sound Venture and in the process many of us acquired wide musical taste.

It was this unity that I aforementioned which instilled in all who went down the Mingo a rejection of the infantile and nonsensical nature of racism, for we had been part of a celebration as a black and white crowd which rejoiced in black music played by white and black musicians, and we were never going to become pawns in any racist politicians hands for we had been as one. What we learnt down in that dark basement room was not to fear difference but to embrace and rejoice in them, test them and if its fine, go with the flow. We learnt to look outside our own sphere of influences, whether in music or life in general; and not to always simply go with the majority.

Of course it is impossible to write about the Mingo without mentioning what fueled it, for back then as today no all-nighter could survive without its punters being on just a little more than thresh air and the odd can of larger, no matter how good the sounds. Amphetamines, Dubes, purple hearts, blues whatever one wished to call the speed of the day was the power source, at least for us Mod's, that and the music. In the early days they came from being 'liberated' by people who worked for French Kline and Smith the major pharmaceutical manufacturer, having been passed down the line until small time pushers did the deal on the street. Different pushers had their shop fronts south off Shaftsbury Avenue, much as I presume they have about the West-end today, one in the doorway of Revels shoe shop in Wardor St, another on the corner at the T junction where Gerald St met Wardor St, etc etc. The Dubes were as easy to get up West back then as Coke is today, it was only when demand outreached supply that bent doctors, breaking into chemist ships and counterfeiting french blues came into play and by then the Mingo had died a death as many of its best musician's and punters went in search of flower power or a more steady source of income.

* 1960's fashion trend, popular amongst working class youngsters.

**although after his first hit record I don't think he played the mingo anymore, certainly not after late 1964-65, no matter as the rest of the bands who gigged there where equally good.

click here for original source

HARD MODS (source John Waters, thanx to The New Breed and Modculture)

Most people's views of 60s mods are of effeminate West End dandies. Original 60s mod John Waters gives us the lowdown on a less familiar side of the Mod coin.

With regard to the Mod scene back in the sixties, to my way of thinking there were two distinct types of Mod within the London area. The first was the familiar scooter boys which has become the generally accepted face of sixties Modernism. However, there was another type of Mod back in those days.

These were the members of the many Mod 'firms'. These were members of street gangs each with their own manor e.g. The Highbury mob, the Archway, Somers Town, Elephant and Castle, Mile End etc. These gangs consisted of anything of between 50 to a couple of hundred in strength at any one time.

Turfs were strictly patrolled and borders laid down. Gang members intruding on other's turf risked a severe beating if caught. Gang members were meticulous in their dress, the order of the day being the mohair suit, velvet collar overcoats and as often as not a 'blue beat' hat. Each manor had its own caff's, snooker halls and sometimes dance hall or club.

I lived in Upper Holloway and therefore was a member of the Archway mob. One of the smaller gangs numbering around eighty to a hundred. We congregated in two or three local cafes and pubs and our main enemy was the Highbury and Mars (Finsbury Park) gangs.

There were many and sometimes violent skirmishes but the odd thing was that on occasions the mobs would align with each other to take on other gangs. I remember one instance that sprang to mind when both gangs combined to 'visit' the rocker enclave at Alexandra Palace.

Members of these gangs would not be seen dead on a scooter there preferred mode of transport being a car. Like most other Mods at the time we were fans of Motown, Soul and the Who, Faces etc. We frequented the pubs of the East End and clubs of the West End. Although we visited many clubs such as the Flamingo, Scene, Whisky and Marquee we tended to stick to one particular club. In our case it was the Discoteque and regarded this as 'home' turf. Again on the annual visits to the coast we would often meet up with other firms and head off, in our case, to Brighton.

My own particular memories of that era are mainly concerning music as an ardent follower of Soul music. Solomon Burke at the Flamingo; robes, crown and all being joined on stage by Dusty Springfield belting out 'Everybody Needs Somebody'. The Who at St.Josephs Church Hall, Archway just after they hit the charts with 'I Can't Explain' and having a few 'sherberts' in The Cat next door with Moon. Friday and Saturday nights up West. First a few pints down the East End at The Green Man or Blind Beggar then off to the Coffee An in a cellar down the bottom of Wardour St. Then up to The Discoteque to dance the night away to some of the greatest music ever to make it on to vinyl. Early next morning meeting up at the all night cafe 'El Passant' on the Strand (what a great juke box). Heady days ! People often find it hard to understand the reverence that the sixties are held in by many. In these days of clubs on every corner, high tech, computer aided music etc everything is pretty much en-passe. The thing about the sixties was that everything was so new. The clothes, music, clubs etc and for the first time we had some money in our pockets to indulge.

I do not live in the past by any means and there is much to be said for the present day but it will never match the absolute excitement of the sixties.

LONDON : FLAMINGO CLUB and SOHO (source John Firth)

The Flamingo club was one of the clubs in the centre of the imported soul revolution, But it was not the only club. There were several, and each club had it's own unique style - The DJ's played music that was never played anywhere else. There was a record shop in Lisle Street in Soho where you could order imports of the stax/atlantic labels, but you had to pay double to get them. I think that some of the other clubs deserved a mention - i.e the Scene was one of the coolest clubs for mods, at that time, and Le discoteque in Wardour Street was the pioneering ''disco'' and the organisers of ''Ready Steady Go'' used to send their people there to pick the dancers that appeared on the show - because they were so stylish, and knew the latest dance crazes. They changed almost every week. It was great to be part of that phenominal era.

MOD memories (source Kristan Deconinck, UK)

There is a lot of myth surrounding the legendary rivalry between mods and rockers - much of perpetuated by the tabloids of the day.

A couple of groups mock-charging along an esplanade, with only the occasional physical injury was, and still is, far less dangerous than any hooliganism you see today.

I recall walking along a riverbank one day and coming across a huge muddy puddle. I couldn't escape because the river was on one side and a high hedge on the other.

Two rockers were on the other side of the puddle and when one of them started wading through the mud towards me, I inevitably throught he was going to beat me up.

Instead, he simply lifted me up and carried me across the mud so I wouldn't get my smart "mod" clothes dirty.

Another myth regards the music. REAL mods weren't into the Who - who looked like mods but played beat music. No, REAL mods were into the original R&B standards which had been copied copiously by all British groups.

A real mod, as opposed to a poseur, would never have been seen carrying an ordinary beat record (although we did allow ourselves to enjoy groups such as the Yardbirds, who had a certain cred-value at the time).

NOTTINGHAM and Midlands (source Steve, Vaughan , James McCarthy, BBC)

I was around mid to late 60s and have many memories of Dungeon, Boat Clubs (Brit in particular),Beachcomber, going to all nighters - Mojo in Sheffield and Twisted Wheel in Manchester, Nightowl in Leicester. I think I remember Randy but these guys are on Vespas and there was also a crowd that had Lambrettas. Names I recall - Fat Pat, Click, Radio, Ben, Andy, Mad Colin (ex-rocker),Gray Whalley, Blonde John, Dave Madgwick, Dave Mace and others. I remember going to fight rockers in Skeggy and Yarmouth. There was even more vicious warfare between Mods from other cities I remember a right rumble through the centre of nottingham when mods from Peterborough came en-masse - a 50 seater coach I guess. I still listen to the soul sounds we listened and danced to back then. Keep me posted if any developments on this topic e.g. reunions or whatever.
(Steve)
I wonder if anyone remembers 'The Belvedere' This was a late night coffee bar just round the corner from the Beachcomber.You assended a creaky flight of stairs into a dimly lit room, bought coffee made with evaporated milk and played the table football machine. Another endearing memory I have is that of an enterprising guy doing a roaring trade selling dresses to girls comming and going from the Beachcomber from the back of a gown van parked up on the wasteground opposite
(Vaughan)

Nottingham had a great mod scene in the sixties. Who remembers soul all dayers at the Dungeon, Geno at the Boat and Jimmy Cliff at the Union?
(James McCarthy)

LONDON : THE SCENE CLUB and SOHO ( by Geoff Green, thanx to Alice Fowkes and Chris H)

The Scene club was in Ham Yard, off Great Windmill Street, in Soho, central London.
It had previously been a jazz club, but by 1963 it had become a club for mods, mainly playing records, but also featuring live groups.

I believe it was, in part at least, owned by Ronan O'Rahilly, who started Radio Caroline. Guy Stevens of Sue Records was the first DJ (I think).

I first went in 1963 with a group of my friends. I was a mod (of sorts, I was an apprentice and didn't have a lot of money), but the main reason we went was that the advert in the Record Mirror spoke of records played by artistes including Chuck Berry, Bo Diddley, Jimmy Reed, Howling Wolf, Jerry Lee Lewis and others.

I can't remember if they used the term "Maximum R&B" first, or if this was originated by the Who later.
At this time the Merseybeat boom was getting under way, beat groups were beginning to feature cover versions of rhythm and blues songs, and we wanted to hear the originals.

Chuck Berry's records had been issued in this country, but when Chess moved from London to the Pye group, his singles had been deleted. So when there was terrific interest in his material nothing was available.

I remember my first visit, the music seemed incredible.

All the great rhythm and blues records, plus good rock'n'roll stuff, plus the current Phil Spector hits like Da Doo Ron Ron and Zippadee Doo Dah (hope that is spelt right). I had never been to a club before, only to local dance halls, like the Tottenham Royal, where there was not the same atmosphere. And there were all these guys wearing the clothes I wanted and was having difficulty affording.

You went down a staircase, paid your money, had your hand stamped (just like the Dome) and went into a rectangular room. As I recall the DJ was in a little box to the right of the entrance, but it was flush to the wall. In the right hand corner opposite the DJ was a bar, that only sold soft drinks (I remember cola that was made from powder and water, really horrible).

A bit further to the left of the entrance was a passage to the cloakroom. Along the far wall to the left were booths, I think the first few times I went there you couldn't see what was going on, but later they were opened up, I think this happened after a raid for drugs. And I think on the right hand wall between the bar and DJ booth were benches.

The rest was a dance floor (I seem to remember a pillar or two, but again I could be wrong). People stood around or danced. A lot of the time it was a case of being seen at the right place.

I went a few more times, but became a regular in 1964. This was in the later part of the summer, I'd met a girl, and we were always going out to places to hear music and dance. So we went to the Scene, and the music was less rhythm and bluesy, more what we'd call soul, but it was still called rhythm and blues by us.

Also popular that summer were old rock'n'roll records by people like Bill Haley, Carl Perkins, etc. Remember this was the time of the mods and rockers riots, grossly exaggerated by the papers. But those records had the right beat for the dances of the time, the Block, and later the Bang, Also that time I remember the Miracles I Like It Like That, and the Supremes When The Lovelight Shines In His Eyes. I remember I wore an off white jacket with patch pockets (very fashionable then) and thought I was really cool. I also had a sort of crewcut, it was the summer of the American look, levis with little turnips and desert boots.

Shortly after that I joined (instead of using vouchers from the Record Mirror), as did my mates and girlfriend. It was a guinea (£1 5p). That seemed a lot of money in those pre inflation days to an apprentice. Monday nights were free to members, and Tuesday (the best weekday night) was one shilling (5p). The all nighter on Saturday was 5 shillings (25p), but I couldn't go to them with my girlfriend, her parents would have gone mad.We regularly went Tuesdays, and often Mondays.

When the Who started appearing at the Marquee in Wardour Street we would often go to the Scene in the break between their appearances, for about 3/4 of an hour.
The music by then was what I would describe as classic soul, Motown, Chess, Major Lance, Impressions, Gene Chandler, plus tracks like Boom Boom and Dimples by John Lee Hooker, and Jimmy Reed classics. Also Ska (or Bluebeat as it was known) was played, but not great amounts, records like Madness by Prince Buster and Carolina by the Folks Brothers. Also Jamaica Ska, I can't remember who sang it but it was a minor hit in the USA on the Atlantic label. Incidentally when I danced with my girlfriend we often jived, this was quite common then.

I remember that Night Train by James Brown was a regular play (it had just been issued on the Sue label), and people formed a chain and weaved in and out of the dancers. It was led by an attractive blonde who looked like Dusty Springfield, one of my mates fancied her. Organ instrumenta ls were highly popular, people like Jimmy Smith and Jimmy McGriff. Quite a lot of jazzy sounding stuff was played as well plus almost anything issued by the British Sue label. I wish there were playlists available.

One Tuesday night an American TV were filming, I'd love to see that now.
In February 1965 my girlfriend packed me in for one of my mates, this broke up our crowd. A couple of the others had girlfriends and were drifting away anyway. At that point I was pretty down and started to go to all nighters there with one of my mates.
I would meet him at about a quarter to midnight in Piccadilly Circus underground station, outside the gents toilets believe it or not, I must have been extremely naïve in those days about that sort of thing. We'd then go straight to the Scene, pay our money and go in to hear the music. It was exciting and the music was brilliant. It was the time
all the classics were coming out, Respect (Otis), In The Midnight Hour, Nothing Can Stop Me, I Can't Help Myself, etc. I am sure you could name those records. Now to a certain extent they seem a bit hackneyed, we have all heard them so much.
But they were new then and so so exciting. Just like if you hear a Northern or R&B track you have never heard before. I'd hear one of my faves and be out on the floor straight away.

As well as soul and R&B tracks, some pop stuff was played. GTO by Ronnie & The Daytonas (a sort of surfing sound, but I think actually made in somewhere like South Carolina); Yeh Yeh, Georgie Fame; Jewel Atkins' Birds & The Bees; Righteous Bros Hung On You (a great track IMHO, better than Loving Feeling); the Vogues You're The One, quite a good pop record, but written by Petula Clark, the DJ (by now an attractive blonde lady) must have liked it; and just before the end Lightning Strikes (Lou Christie) and Barbara Ann (Beach Boys).
Also she like to play Tallahassee Lassie (Freddie Cannon); Summertime Blues (Eddie Cochran) and Lewis Boogie (Jerry Lee Lewis).
At the same time bluesy stuff was still played; as was an EP made by the Animals for Decca (presumably a demo tape) featuring Boom Boom and Dimples (I am certain not the versions they did for Parlophone). There was a version of Mohair Sam but it was not Charlie Rich, it had different more amusing lyrics; and also a different version of Leaving Here, not Eddie Holland or the Birds. Somethings just stick in your mind.

During the all nighters we would go out for a walk to get some air and go to the milk machine in Berwick Street. I remember we were once accosted by a lady of the night who offered her services for 30 shillings (£1 50p). Needless to say we turned her kind offer down, music was more important, plus I think she made us a bit nervous.
Many of the records played were imports, so we heard many good records long before they were issued in the UK. I started going out with a girl (who eventually became my wife) in January 1966 and I took her there a few times, but there was another drugs raid, it re-opened but it wasn't the same. We stopped going in about March or April
1966. It later became the King Creole club but I know nothing of that.
It had a major effect on my musical taste, and I still look for some tracks I remember and have never found. When you're young you are inclined to take everything for granted, and that's how we were. It was good and I am glad I went there, I wouldn't be the person I am today if I hadn't gone there."

London : Beardy Pegley

I got it from a book called "Buttons - The Leader Of The British Hells Angels", an autobiography written in the early 70s by a legendary rocker....It was later confirmed to me by a mod called Les Hall from Stepney Green, who I interviewed for a book. It goes like this...

In early 1963, Buttons was the leader of a gang of east end Teddy Boys. They were based around Dalston and haunted both the Locarno and the three late night cafe's nearby. They were hard and sharp dressed. Drapes, Beetle Crushers, Bootlace Ties and the duck's arse/tony curtis hair cuts were the order of the day. The Teds were getting a bit pissed off with the plethora of young mods on their territory, so Buttons sanctioned a few beatings. Les told me that the word soon spread through the East End that mods were getting a regular hiding in Dalston. Sooner or later the Pegley brothers, the generally accepted faces of the Stepney Green mod crew heard about it. Although Dalston was well out of their patch, the elder, Beardy, decided to do womething about it. On the night concerned he asked for volunteers. Twenty or so Stepney and Canning Town mods met up and made the journey across London to seek revenge...

The last part of the story comes from Buttons himself. Les was there but he didnt see the final confrontation.

"It was a normal wednesday, the Teddy Boy crew were all out and hanging around the haunt in Dalston. The mod fights had reached their peak. A few mod youngsters had been cornered earlier in the evening and my boys were on a high. At about 10 o'clock a couple of cars and a dozen scooters pulled into the car park. It was obvious that they wanted trouble, they were mob handed and looked like they were tooled up. I thought I could deal with the situation. I walked out in front of my boys. They were ready, but I thought we would see what they wanted before the situation blew up. Their leader came round the corner. He was about 6 foot, dressed in a leather coat. Sharp, but I knew I could take him. He looked like a queer... As I walked towards him he stood foursquare, hands out, shouting at me to come on. I started to run, pulling my tool from my jacket, momentum giving me the edge. When I was about 20 yards from him he simply flicked back his leather trenchcoat and pulled out a hidden sawn-off shotgun. He laughed, pointed it at my legs and pulled the trigger..."

(source Eddie Piller)

London : Bo Diddley at The Flamingo (source Styxbroox)

ME, BO A DUCHESS AND THE FLAMINGO
It is summer 1963.

I was up early, it was a beautiful day, but I was as mad as hell. I'd had an argument with my girlfriend the night before; I was seventeen and just didn't understand women. She was sixteen and quite obviously didn't understand men. Well young men anyway. I knew what I had to do. Go and buy some records. I threw on my American Levi's which had a button fly and were faded and beginning to go at the knees. I had a thick leather belt with a huge buckle. Was I at the cutting edge of sartorial grungeness! No. I threw on a red t-shirt and a red and blue cardigan that my mother had knitted me - which was now misshapen - to top off this ensemble. Oh although it was summer I was wearing a pair of large winter woolly socks that my Grandmother had knitted me.
I grabbed a quick breakfast of eggs on toast, kissed my mum goodbye and said that I'd see her later. "Ha! I'll believe that when I see it, she said. Once when I was 12 I stayed at an American families house, on the Airbase next to where we lived, for the whole weekend, from Friday afternoon to Monday midday without informing her. (We had no telephone.) The look of thunder on her face when I turned up is scarred across my cerebral cortex for ever. If I'd have been her I'd have thrashed me. She once told me many years later "You don't know how many nights I lay awake worrying about you.
So I walked to the crossroads in our village where I could 'hitch a ride'. I soon picked up a lift by a young G.I. in an old black Buick and we got to the town where there was a small record store. All of us kids who spent most of our spare time on the 'base' used Americanisms. We said store instead of shop, we grew up on Hershey and Snickers bars and I am amused when people complain about the change of name that Marathon bars underwent over here. I also called records 'reckerds.' So I went into the store where I was probably their best customer, and wondered what the latest soul reckerds were. Well they had very little in at all, so I decided to hitch a ride into Oxford the nearest city with a well
stocked soul section.
So I took up my position outside the town and soon got a ride from an English guy with a Volkswagen Traveller. We chuntered towards Oxford and chatted and I just explained what I was trying to do. He said that if you want that kind of music Soho in London is where you need to be, and they'll do loads of American imports. "Really? Was my response, "Do you know the shops? "I can drop you right out side one. Now the conjunction of the words Soho and American imports proved irresistible. Soho ' I'd heard the name many times and always associated it with sleaze and girls of the night ' no problem there - and American soul imports; fuck! have I struck gold!
It took hours to get there as we had to use the old A40 route with its legion of lorries chugging along belching out toxic fumes. We eventually got to White City and made our way past Shepherds Bush, Notting Hill Gate, Marble Arch, down Oxford St and right into Regents St. and then left into Piccadilly and into Coventry St.. Now, as I recite those names that are now so familiar to me, the excitement in my gut was unbearable at seeing these places for the first time. The largest place I'd ever been to was Oxford which I now
know to be small ' but this was out of this world! The buzz - the lights, the shops, the people, there was just 'zip' everywhere.
I'd come home.
I jumped out of the van and thanked him, he pointed to a street and said you'll find loads of record shops up there. As he pulled away what cloth remained of my right hand pocket in my grungy Levi's gave way, some change clattered onto the pavement and some into my thick winter socks. I'd not been here two minutes and I'd made a tit of myself. I picked up the change stuck it in the other pocket and began to look around. Woah! The lights the sheer energy of the place, I knew this is where I belonged. I said to myself 'this is where I want to be.'
I walked up to the street he'd pointed at, it was called Wardour St.. Oh if only my mates could see me now, I wondered what Sue my girlfriend was doing. I looked across and saw Lisle St., which looked promising. I crossed over but something caught my eye from where I'd just come from, The Whiskey A Go Go. Wow I'd heard of this place, (I hadn't I'd heard of the New York one) but then something caught my eye just beneath it: Bo Diddley tonight. I almost had a seizure right there and then. One of the all time greats and one of my favourites was going to be there ' tonight ' at The Flamingo. 7.30pm to 11.30pm 10 shillings but - and I couldn't get my head around the concept, 12 midnight to 6am £1. An all night session! Now I'd only ever seen a few bands at the local Women's Institute hall, and they were shite, I couldn't blag my way into pubs that had pop bands in because the landlords knew me, and that I was under age. But a fucking all-night session with an icon of Rhythm 'n' Blues, in just a few hours????
My legs turned to jelly ' holy fuck ' how much have I got? I had about 12 shillings. Shit! I can make the early session with some change for drinks, I was by now starving and thirsty. It would mean walking or hitching to White City roundabout, where I can pick up the A40 and all those trucks going west. Hitch hiking in the center of town I imagined would be difficult, but a 5mile walk to White City was not a problem. Then I suddenly remembered, the change that had fallen into my sock. I spotted a secluded little street across the road called Rupert Court, just the place for checking what loose change one had in one's sock.
I crossed over, leant against the wall, took my shoe and sock off and turned it inside out, and the change clinked onto the pavement. As I was counting, a window opened above me and a woman's voice said "Got enough to come up 'ere love? I looked up to see a woman of about 25 not bad looking, "Um ' I ' uh ' um ' Bo ' um ' Diddley round the corner was all I could stammer. She shut the window. I counted.
Fuck; still only about 13 shillings, it was 6pm and I was hungry. I decided to go and get something to drink and I didn't know if I could afford anything to eat. I saw a café in Lisle St. and ordered a coke and sat pondering. If I buy something to eat that's cheap, that leaves me with no money for drinks at The Flamingo. But I'm bloody starving; but come what may I was going to go and see Bo Diddley.
I pondered on when suddenly a guy came into the café in the uniform of a kitchen porter, white hat, white coat and those strange blue and white-checkered trousers. He announced "Anyone want to earn a few bob this evening doing a bit of washing up at a Wimpey bar just around the corner? He was continuing with something about a free meal, but I think I had him by the throat at this stage yelling "Me me me! And - I would have killed anyone who had tried to take this from me. For a brief moment I believed fervently that there was a higher being.
We walked the few minutes to the Wimpey bar and he explained that their regular kitchen porter had phoned in sick and it was their busiest evening. He said I would finish at 11.30, there were some Cokes down there and he'd bring me a meal at about 9pm. So I got togged up; and I must say that I looked damned dapper in my blue and white-checkered trousers. And there never has been a more happy washer-upper in the history of washing-upping. I duly did all the washing up with brio ' well I think it was Fairy Liquid ' but you catch my drift. I had my burger and chips and drank about 10 Cokes; it was a very hot evening in a very hot kitchen.
I duly got off at 11.30, got paid, got changed, walked down to The Flamingo and asked the gum-chewing doorman what time we could go in. He just pointed to the sign that said 12midnight. He chewed his gum without missing a beat. So I pottered up and down Wardour Street, I noticed another club, The Marquee with some bloke called Joe Cocker playing that evening. I found myself in Frith Street and I heard some funky jazz being played via a speaker outside a club. Wow! Ronnie Scott's Jazz Club it said. Playing music in the street. This was definitely bohemian and it was me! I never want to leave here. I was already formulating a plan. I didn't know it would take another 5 years.
I went back to The Flamingo at 12 on the dot, paid my £1 and went down the narrow stairs that were lit with red lights. I emerged into the main part of the club which in truth was quite small, dark, and also mainly red lit. There was a smallish stage with a line of about 10 seats 8 deep, jammed in front of it. The atmosphere just dripped off the walls. The music was impossibly funky and loud; I seem to remember Roy Head's 'Treat Her Right' playing. The club was made up of about 60% black and 40% white men and women. I noticed a programme of forthcoming artists. Ben E King, Inez and Charlie Foxx, Little Stevie Wonder, Doris Troy et al. What. Have. I. Walked. Into?
And in the middle of this funky musical nirvana, that old Broadway song came to me 'If my friends could see me now. I went and queued for a Coke ' they didn't sell alcohol ' and I was stunned by the price; 2/6d! They're 'avin' a larf I thought, it's about 9d in the pub. Welcome to London Steve. I found myself a little berth on a ledge near the stage as by this time all the seats had been taken. I wondered what time Bo was on ' you see ' we were on first name terms already. There was a band setting up, the name on the bass drum skin said The Gass. I didn't understand the concept of support bands. Damn, I'm going to have to sit through these first of all.
But when they started up ' bang! These guys were shit ' hot. They did all the Tamla and Stax stuff but with a back-beat that melted my gums. The drummer was just the most stupendous player I'd ever heard. That's what I want to do ' my life was being shaped for me. I had no decision in this; this was going to be my life. By this time with my mum's hand knitted cardy and my winter socks, I was completely soaked with sweat and I didn't care. All I could think of was ' if only they could see me now.
The Gass finished their set and moved their equipment to one side, now we were going to get down to the real nitty gritty. About half an hour later the roadies started bring in another kit of drums and new amps. People began moving forward in anticipation, it must have been over a 100 degrees in there. The musicians began to come on stage to cheers and began tuning, the drummer just checking that things were in place. My stomach felt as if I was about to go into the dentist for root canal surgery without anaesthetic.
The M.C. came up to the microphone and the cheers got louder. The place was about to erupt. "Laydeez an' Gennelmen, we have a real treat in store for you tonight!
We began to go wild, screaming. "No Laydeez an' Gennelmen we have a real surprise for you ' she rarely gigs with him in the States let alone coming to Europe to tour. Some of you may have never heard of her, but I guarantee you've heard her if you've listened to Bo Diddley! Roars and screams from the crowd, but who was he talking about? "Laydeez an' Gennelmen I give you rhythm and blues royalty ' Bo Diddley's cousin The Duchess! We all screamed but I'd never heard of her, but as she walked on-stage the crowd went berserk. Here was a statuesque beautiful black babe, with a black silk top, (and she was stacked) she had a pair of leopard skin pants that looked as if they had been painted on.
She was carrying the very recognizable oblong guitar that Bo Diddley was famous for. She was also carrying an incredibly long guitar lead, the significance of which was to be made all too apparent later in the gig. She plugged in and began to tune up with the place in complete bedlam. She eventually turned and just stood looking at the mini-riot she had engendered and just stared haughtily as if to say 'Yeh, you wish, in your dreams.' How the M.C. was going to keep us all quiet enough to announce the star I didn't know, and I guess neither did he. So he didn't try ' he just screamed into the microphone "Laydeez an' Gennelmen ' Bo Diddley! Complete and utter fucking pandemonium ensued as he walked on with that hat that's almost like a stove-pipe hat; but isn't. He too was carrying an oblong guitar, which he plugged into an amp and began tuning up.
He too eventually turned around and stared at the audience from behind his sunglasses for a few minutes. I didn't see any sign or count, they just hit it. Baddle lee bam bam, bam bam! Written down it looks stupid, but experienced it was life-changing. If there was bedlam before this was a step up from it. We were all dancing like maniacs but I kept an eye on The Duchess and she was certainly Bo's equal on guitar, the rhythmic interplay between them was breathtaking. They were like a couple of oil-covered snakes wrestling musically. 'Bo Diddley's a Gunslinger' melded into 'Hey Bo Diddley' and 'You can't Judge a Book, By Lookin' at The Cover.'
I by this time had jumped into a now empty seat about 5 rows back, not that I was sitting. Then ' during a long rhythmic break where Bo and The Duchess just funked it up ' The Duchess began to move to the steps at the edge of the stage. She began to walk down them; ah the reason for the long lead. She continued playing as she negotiated the bodies littering the aisle as she walked past the rows of seats, I imagined she was going to go out onto the dance floor which was a seething mass of bodies. But she stopped at my row and began to move up past the guys gyrating in their seats; and yes you can gyrate in your seat.
I realized what was going to happen, or rather I didn't. 'I'm just a hick from the sticks.' She looked at me ' still funkin' away ' and there was mischief in her eyes and liquid in my jeans. She turned her back as if to shimmy by ' but just sat down on my lap. And gyrated, and played. The crowd were going wild, I didn't know whether to laugh, cry, scream, wet myself or put my arms around her waist and hold on. So I did them all. She eventually got up and moved back towards the stage, she turned and looked at me with a wicked little grin that said she'd just fucked with a white kid's mind with a funny cardigan on; he'll never be the same - and he never has been. Black guys were slapping me on the back and joshing me, just saying 'Yeh man!' I had been initiated, in what I wasn't quite sure but I liked it.
The gig carried on in a blur after that but suffice to say I had a beatific grin on my face for the whole of it. They finally left the stage, more records were played and I danced my winter woolly socks off. The Gass came on ' were brilliant ' and were gone again. Then there were records played until 6am and I danced like a man possessed. There was trouble when a fight broke out with a tank-like man, and there was even the cartoon breaking of a chair over his head, and he kept on fighting for about 10 seconds then suddenly went down. He was carried out and we just carried on dancing. In all the subsequent years I frequented The Flamingo I never saw any more trouble.
At 6am I stood blinking and dripping in the morning sunlight wondering did all that just happen? I made my way up to Oxford St and caught a bus up to White City. I hitched a ride with a truck that was going to Cheltenham, which would drop me off at Burford where I knew my girlfriend would be working. Her father owned 2 garages opposite one another on the A40. I began telling the truck driver about the night's events but after about half an hour I fell into a deep sleep.
He woke me just after Witney, I must have been asleep for hours. We pulled into Burford and then pulled into the garage. I thanked the driver and jumped down. I walked into the garage and saw Sue my girlfriend. She was looking slightly cross; I said, "You'll never guess where I've been.

Mod and Rocker (Mike Snow)

I was both a Rocker and a Mod, and was down Brighton during the running battles along the front and on the beaches.

I was 15 in 1965 so I was in that generation that was neither full-on Rocker nor fashionable Mod, the rivalry between the two on the streets late at night or at the weekends was constant.

Rockers loved their motorbikes, leather clad girls, rock 'n' roll music, and, despite their caveman antics, were traditionalists. I was a rocker for two years, hanging out with the local gang, couldn't afford the leather jacket so I wore a blazer, jeans, T-shirt, and desert boots to the clubhouse.

In spite of their image, Rockers were normally quiet, always on the lookout for cheap bike parts, and then used to mount up and go on a "burn up". Many were killed on "burn ups" or horribly injured in all the hell-bent need for speed and adrenaline. But that was their way.

I think there was a motorcycle show down in Brighton either 1965 or '66 when a friend and myself were jumped by a gang of Mods who chased us further along the front to Hove. They lost interest. We waited a couple of hours before going back for our motorbike and the trip home

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A month or two later I dropped out of the Rockers as the Mods had the better looking girls. I brought my Ben Sherman shirt, Farrah hipsters, a pair of shoes, and smothered myself in Brut Perfume For MEN! Having had the hairdresser re-shape and degrease my hair, I was ready.

Yessir! Saturday night was dancing night!

Those were the great days of Tamla Motown, ska, and dances like the locomotion, funky chicken, and the wa-tu-say. What was .. Steady Go!" that week was in a 1000 suburban disco's and club's the following night.

Like many others I spend some of the weekend wasted on amphetamines and booze.

By 17 I had left the scene behind for good as I was becoming more politically active and socially aware; I moved on to other things

source : BBC and Screen archive South East