"Jaunty Jalopies"

‘Jaunty Jalopies’: It was early in 1957 that I decided I would like to learn to drive, after leaving school at the age of 16 years. I had some previous experience with cars and motorcycles, when just after the Second World War, my father brought an Aerial motorcycle. He took me for rides on the pillion, although petrol was still in short supply, and on one particular day he wanted to go on a short run. He couldn’t get much fuel, so he added a couple of tins of petrol lighter fuel to the tank, and we set off. After about half a mile, we reached 25 miles per hour, when there was a loud ‘bang’, and the silencer blew off! The next journey found us replacing the Ronson Lighter Fuel, by a mixture of petrol and paraffin which made some smoke, but kept us moving. I had eight driving lessons costing £1.00p per hour, in an Austin A30, and luckily passed my test first time. We celebrated the next day, by hiring a Vauxhall ‘Wyvern’, and set off to visit the Associated Television Studios at Aston, Birmingham, which had recently opened. When we arrived we looked for parking in a side street, and who should park next to us but Jerry Allen, who was on the “Lunch Box” programme, with Noelle Gordon. Standing at the main entrance we looked in amazement as the Joe Loss Band alighted from a Sheffield United Tours bus, thinking how great this was. A week later, my works foreman offered me a job tractor driving, and at sixteen I began a new 30-year post, with the same firm. I lived through the ‘Teddy Boy’, and ‘Rock ‘n’ Roll’ era, and my dream car was a 1961 Vauxhall ‘Cresta’, with dished rear lights, and sprayed pink in colour, which friends thought was American, and looked like one Diana Dors had. I am still driving some 46 years later, but could never understand the U.K. licence regulations. Near where I live was a bus garage and I used to watch as Double-decker bus drivers took their vehicles into the garage after completing the shift. Minutes later they would emerge on a 50c.c. Moped, displaying of all things, ‘L’ Plates, because the moped at that time came under a different licence group. 21 ‘A Teenage Crush’: One of the things I was always proud of, was that I was a teenager at the start of the 'Rock 'n' Roll era, having been born too late to enjoy my second favourite time, which was 'The Roaring Twenties'. Shortly before artists like Elvis Presley, Chuck Berry, and Bill Haley, we had the teenage idols such as Fabian, Tab Hunter, Bobby Darin, and Troy Donahue, all who left their mark on the music scene. Through a combination of films, and gramophone records, there was a spell when even I, modelled myself on several of these American Idols. I was a regular visitor to Hall's, the local radio and television shop, in the Market Place in Heanor, where I used to browse through the latest singles, that were currently plying for number one spot in the 'Hit Parade', or what later became 'The Top Ten'. ‘I Was Lucky’: It was a time when youngsters like me needed a hero to look up to, someone who led a spotless life, and even in the fifties, these people were hard to find. However, it wasn't long before I found myself a young Tommy Sands, born just two years before me in Chicago. His father had been a professional pianist, and his mother a one time singer. Tommy, though still in his teens, had managed to get radio spots, and had appeared several times on television, and in American music magazines which through a friend of mine I had been able to obtain. It was from one such magazine that I wrote a letter to him via a fan club address, not realizing that I would get a personal reply, together with an autographed photograph of the young star. The time was 1952, and we exchanged letters about every two months, through a private address that he gave me. In one letter came the news that he had just signed a contract with a new company called Jamboree Productions, who had several other singers on their books, one being a country and western singer named Eddy Arnold. The Manager of the new company was a Colonel Tom Parker, a name which at the time didn’t mean very much to me, but he said he had managed to get Tommy a contract with RCA records. 22 He later cut several records for them, but they did nothing, and Tommy reverted once again to engagements at clubs, and spots on local television. We kept in touch for the next five years, with me using a false name, until about 1956, when he wrote and told me that he had auditioned, and won, a part to play a rock ‘n’ roll singer in a show. By this time, Colonel Tom Parker had taken another singer onto the books, and found he was an instant success; the singers name was Elvis Presley. Tommy’s next letter told me he had been offered, and accepted, a long time contract for Capitol Records, and that he was to cut his first record, for public release, to be called ‘Teenage Crush’, so the very next day, I rushed into Hall’s record Shop, and placed an order for an advance copy, which I got some weeks later. His letter also contained the news that he had signed a contract to star in the film ‘Sing Boy Sing’, and one morning the postman brought me a large envelope. Inside was a 10” X 8’’ black and white publicity still from the film, which he had autographed personally: “To Bernie with my Best Wishes, Tommy Sands”. I was over the moon with his kindness, and I took the picture to show my friends at the ‘Cosy’, where I was working part time. One of the usherettes, Pauline Stocks, was leaving; she was off to America to work for the next year, and how I wished I was in her position, so I could try and meet my hero Tommy. Another old school friend I knew, a six foot, ginger haired science fiction loving artist, constantly pestered me for the photograph; his name was Patrick Briggs. From that moment on I became totally smitten by the teenage ‘pop’ scene. I went to my local hairdresser, Wilf Moseley, at the top of Derby Road in Heanor, and asked him to give me a ‘Tony Curtis’ haircut, complete with D.A. (Duck’s Arse), at the back. At first he refused, asking me if my mother knew I wanted one, I replied she did. When I returned home my mother was furious, and even the neighbours began to look at me differently. I had reached my teenage adolescence, a period when I was to wear ‘Drain – pipe’ trousers, crepe soled shoes, and even carry a ‘flick knife’ because they did in films! I also brought myself a twenty packet of ‘Will’s Woodbine’ cigarettes, which took me three days to smoke, but after that I had no desire to ever smoke again. 23 'My Change of Scene’: Meanwhile over in America, the career of Tommy Sands was steaming ahead. His Capitol record deal found him making five record deals with this major company, the first to be called “Steady date With Tommy Sands”. Elvis Presley, who had earlier turned down NBCs ‘The Singing Idol’, which Tommy later accepted, was becoming a superstar, and a lucky break came for Tommy when he was picked as a subject for BBC Televisions ‘This Is Your Life’ programme. Our exchange of letters got less frequent; he was becoming far too popular to bother with the likes of me, stuck in some little known town in the United Kingdom. He was in big demand from Hollywood, and there followed a string of films with stars like Pat Boone, in ‘Mardi Gras’ (58), and ‘Love in a Goldfish Bowl’ (60), with another pop idol Fabian Forte. He made ‘Babes in Toyland’ (61) with Annette Funicello, and ‘The Longest Day’ (62), with an international star studded cast. Our correspondence ended in 1960, when it was announced he was to marry Nancy Sinatra, the daughter of famous singer Frank Sinatra, and I realized that our association had come to an end. They were married for five years, and along with father – in – law Frank, Tommy got a part in ‘None but the Brave’ (65). ‘Chance Meeting’: By now he was reaching the peak of his career, and he had his own backing group called ‘The Raiders’ (aka ‘The Sharks’), and success followed success. I continued to follow his life via the various pop magazines and papers, such as ‘New Musical Express’, which I took weekly. Late in the 1960s; Tommy Sands moved to Hawaii, where he opened a club. However, due to the ever changing pop scene, his popularity began to wane, although try as he did, his comebacks between 1974 to 1979 were not successful. In 1990 he came to entertain in Britain, and I had delusions of trying to eventually meet my ‘pop’ hero of the fifties, but by then I was in my 50th year, and temporarily unemployed as a result of the cinema business. What the hell would Tommy Sands be doing meeting some old guy like me; even if I did get to meet him! 24 ‘A Moment in Time’: I’ve purposely not mentioned Tommy’s performances in the films he made, because I don’t think it would be fair to comment on this first class entertainer about how Hollywood portrayed him; he was worthy of much better things. Like Elvis they presented him in a completely different image, with starlets with big boobs, sex appeal, and little else. Today I have his music to enjoy, and though he would possibly never remember me, we’ll both go on for as long as we’re able to share this common bond through his songs, untouched by the ‘sands’ of time……… ‘Happy Birthday Sweet Sixteen’: While gathering material for this autobiography, I came across a photograph of myself standing outside the front door of our house. It was taken almost fifty years ago, and shows me as a ‘teenager’, when black shirts and white ties were the fashion for weekends. It was also the time I decided to grow my ‘Tony Curtis’ hairstyle, sculptured by my hairdresser Wilf Mosley, of Derby Road, Heanor. We really called them ‘barbers’ – hairdressers was a bit too posh then. Life was more casual then, and neighbours were friendlier. I remember how at 6pm on Sunday evenings during Summer, the local chapel would hold an outside street service just down the road, and people would come out of their homes and join in singing hymns. Monday was traditionally wash day, and for baking the weeks bread and cakes. The milk would be delivered by horse and cart if you were in the Co – Op; and a little butchers van delivered meat to your door. At the time the photograph was taken, I was working as an apprentice electrician at Shipley ‘Coppice’ Colliery, and in the evenings, four times a week, I also worked part time at Heanor ‘Cosy’ Cinema. It was all the rage to ‘pay board’ then towards your keep. I paid £5 per week, to a wonderful mother who fed and clothed me; how she did it I’ll never know! 25 ‘One of the Warner Brothers’: Now that all the coal mines in the district have gone, I have memories of the comradeship amongst the miners; and I became very good friends with those I worked with. There was Norman Rouse, Alan Grace, Ron Benniston, and the guy seen on the photograph page, who was Brian Warner. The picture was taken on an afternoon shift, when we went onto the top of the water softener tank that stood in Coppice wood yard; here we would lye on our backs to get a sun tan, on warm evenings, just watching the sun go down. As I was under 21 years of age, I was not allowed to work the night shift, although the mine worked a three shift system for the 24 hour period. The shift pattern was 6am to 2pm, 2pm to 10pm, and 10pm to 6am. On the afternoon shift things were much slower, and we had time to do little jobs for ourselves. We would just start doing something and the telephone would ring, then it was a case of grabbing a tool bag, and down the mine to the breakdown. It was generally accepted that apprentices had the job of carrying the tool bag, but there were occasions when our mentors helped us as well. I often got teamed up with Ted Moore from Langley Mill, he was a nice quite chap who was also a staunch member of The Communist Party, but his politics didn’t make any difference to me. He had a motorcycle which he came to work on, and when things were slack, I would clean it down for him. So for a couple of hours, I was getting paid twice! The head electrician was Walter Ashmore, but we only saw him on the day shift; others working there were Cliff Lyneham, John Lovatt, Graham Henshaw, and a few others I can’t recall. The annoying part of that job was that we had nothing to do for seven hours, and then, just before finishing time, a job would come up, and we would find ourselves working overtime to get it done. While I was working at the pit, I made two good friends, Norman Rouse and Alan Grace. Alan’s father Jim Grace, was a ‘Header Man’, which meant he took the coalface forward underground; in this job they were highly paid. When average earnings were about forty pounds per week, these men would be earning over a hundred pounds per week, which was a fantastic amount then. When I left the mine Alan and Norman used to visit me at home, where we would listen to the latest in ‘pop’ music. This ended a few years later when we went onto other interests. 26 Please go to another web page.....