Here’s a piece Rab Noakes posted on FaceBook in December 2016
Here’s a Xmas Eve tale from 50 years ago.
In 1966, I was living in London and come Xmas it was time to make a trip north. I had left home in Cupar, Fife in 1963 and until the early ’70s I made an effort to join my parents and brothers at the family home for Xmas Day.
A friend had invited me to Stroud in Gloucestershire for a pre-Xmas visit so I figured I’d go there on the 23rd and make the remainder of the journey to Scotland on Xmas Eve.
The mode of transport of regular choice was hitch-hiking so I headed out to the west of London late in the afternoon. When I got to Stroud, sometime in the evening, my friend wasn’t in and his mother, who’d answered the phone, had no idea where he was. I decided to get on with the journey and headed out toward the M5. There continued what was the singularly longest journey north I ever made.
Our customary route when we hitch-hiked north was the A1. It was ideal as it was reasonably fast but had roundabouts at the major junctions. These were where you were usually dropped and good for hitching from as the traffic had slowed and could see you. There was often a convenient lay-by also. As a safety net we often timed the journey to try to keep the overnight coach behind us so we may stop it and board it if absolutely necessary. That happened only once on a trip south. The motorways, on the other hand, were all slip-roads which had meagre amounts of traffic and were frustratingly close to hundreds of vehicles speeding in the desired direction. The best points were the services. Not on this trip though. Following a series of short lifts overnight on the M5 I had made it to Knutsford on the M6 by mid-morning and the queue of hitchers snaked up and down the staircase in the northbound side. I braved the weather and eventually got a lift at the exit and staggered further north on the route with short rides. I was beginning to think Xmas Day in my hometown might not happen after all.
The, in time-honoured fashion, it all changed, for the good. At somewhere around 3:00pm in the Gretna area on the A74 a Mini stopped for me in the snow. The driver was a young man I learned was called Desmond McMichael and he was going to Edinburgh. That was excellent, it was covered and I’d get home. We’d get there about 5:30pm and I’d settle for getting down to Waverley Station for the 6:12pm to Aberdeen which would take me to Cupar. Desmond was friendly and a good companion as well as a life-saver.
We kept in touch a bit after that. One time he said he was coming to London for the rugby and would I join him for the day. The day in question was Saturday March 18th, 1967. He was, for me at the time, an unusually organised man in that he had the day fully-plotted and had tickets for everything.
My girlfriend at the time shared a flat with a few other young women in an amazing location. They all worked for the BBC and the flat was on the Corporation’s approved list. It was above the sandwich bar in Pollen Street in the heart of the West End, a stone’s throw from Oxford Circus and Carnaby Street.
Desmond picked me up there at about 11am and off we went to Twickenham for England v Scotland. That’s not much my thing but it was an interesting excursion. It was then off to a steak bar on the edge of Soho before heading for the Festival Hall for the Georgie Fame concert.
I have perceptions about that concert in hindsight but my memory of it was as something rather special. I had been to loads of pop concerts, getting to all the package tours in late ’63 to early ’65, when I lived and worked in Glasgow. We also liked a lot of bluesy, folky guitar players and had gone to countless folk clubs and Bert Jansch’s now-celebrated St Pancras Town Hall concert. I’d never seen anything like this though. Well, the first half I had but not the second half. On the brink of the onset of flower-power, Georgie Fame undertook a bold concert in London’s Festival Hall.
The first half was the Georgie Fame band featuring Eddie Thornton (trumpet), Derek Wadsworth (trombone), Johnny Marshall (baritone), Rik Brown (bass guitar), Hughie Flint (drums), Georgie Fame (vocal, organ, guitar).
The second half was Georgie Fame with the Harry South Big Band, packed with the cream of Britain’s jazz scene. Here’s the line-up:-
Greg Bowen, Derek Watkins, Ian Hamer, Les Condon, Kenny Wheeler (trumpet), Keith Christie, Johnny Marshall, Chris Smith, Gib Wallace (trombone), Alan Branscombe (alto sax), Tony Coe (alto sax, flute), Ronnie Scott, Dick Morrissey (tenor sax), Tubby Hayes (tenor sax, flute), Harry Klein (baritone), Gordon Beck (piano), Phil Bates (bass), Bill Eyden (drums), Georgie Fame (vocal, organ, guitar).
The concert was recorded and was eventually released on an album. Or, to be more accurate, half an album. The original LP had one side from studio and one side from the concert. They must have recorded the whole thing but, for whatever reason, only released a half dozen songs. The album is The two faces of Fame
Big band music was my Mum and Dad’s thing and although my Dad introduced me to interesting vocalists such as Fats Waller, Al Bowlly, Nellie Lutcher and The Deep River Boys I never really got the big band thing – until this night.
Amongst my perceptions is a sense for me it was the end of the mods.
The prevailing image of mod fashion is Parkas and scooters. That, though, was only part of the story. There were also some really cool suits, Italian shoes and the smartest haircuts this side of World War Two.
The mods’ soundtrack was a mixture of rhythm’n’blues, pop songs, jazz, Tamla Motown and more. In some respects this concerts was a final smart night out for the mods. It was symbolic of the time when the Flamingo Club was about to give way to a distinct change of circumstances as pioneered in the likes of the UFO Club and the Hyde Park free concerts.
It’s a while ago but not to be forgotten and all thanks to Xmas Eve 1966 and Desmond – wherever you are.
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