Chapter 1 – Schooldays

I was born December 15th 1944 (the same day as Glenn Miller died when his plane went down) to my parents Robert and Margaret (Madge) Batten. My older sister Jean was born in 1940 and we lived in sunny Leith, Edinburgh. In 1947 the family moved to my grandfather’s house in Loganlea Loan in the Craigentinny district of Edinburgh. My grandfather was ill and we moved into his house which was a council tenancy. My first recollections of our new home was a six in the block tenement with lots of people in each house and apart from the odd one or two, they were all very sociable and neighbourly. The only downside was there were no young boys around – plenty of girls. My sister Jean came into her own here as she was the leader of the gang of girls and the only boy (me). We had a gang hut, an old chicken hut belonging to one of the girls’ grandfathers and it was just magical. I was the “lookout” for the gang and they made me a cape to wear and a mask too, and when they were having a meeting, I would stand guard outside – awesome! Jean was a great organiser and we would have picnics, parties and even shows in the back garden with singing, dancing and comedy. We would charge the people in the street sixpence to get in and the shows were always packed. The only thing this place did not have was a boy ages with me to play with. Even the girls in the gang were older than me. However for two years 5 Loganlea Loan was as close to paradise as you could get. I started primary school when I was five years old. St. Ninian’s R.C. School in the Lochend area of Edinburgh. I had been looking forward to it for weeks and now I was here sitting in the class with another 45 kids every one of them crying their eyes out. It was horrific. I couldn’t cry because I was in shock. I was sure someone had died but all the kids (except me) had the fear factor. It didn’t help when Miss McGuinness came into the room and shouted “stop crying and shut up” which only made all the kids turn from crying to screaming and this was only the first day! It took a while but eventually everything settled down to a normal school routine if there was indeed a normal routine in that era. The only time everyone in my class was happy was at Christmas time and the school Christmas party. This was a truly happy time. A couple of weeks before the party we would decorate our classrooms with home-made decorations, and the drill hall would be covered in balloons and candles, with a great Christmas tree in the corner. We practised all the Scottish dances in the lead-up to the party and dance, with the eight some reel, the dashing white sergeant, the gay Gordon’s, St. Bernard’s waltz etc etc. Everyone was told to bring in something for the party, i.e. cakes, sweets, scones, sandwiches, tea, sugar, anything and everything, and it was all shared, which was great as there were some kids who came from really poor families who had hardly any food to eat at any time. So it really was a great Christmas for them. Anyway all the parties were held in our own classrooms so we really had a sense of belonging at that time of the year. The only thing I did not like was the tea that was served up. It was made in a big urn and I think it must have been made the day before, because it was stewed stupid. It gave me the boak and it was the same at every Christmas party all the time I was at primary school. Not long after my sixth birthday I came home from school one day to find my parents in sombre mood and I could sense something was wrong. My sister beckoned me into the bedroom and told me we were going to have to move house. My granddad had died a few months previously and in those days you could not take over your parents’ house as you were known as an unlawful tenant. So we were having to move and pretty soon too. Two weeks later we had a new place, about a mile from Loganlea Loan. 3 Loganlea Gardens was just around the corner from my school and I was over the moon. We were set to move in on a Thursday and as my parents were going to be out getting materials for the house they had given me a key for the new place. They said they would be back about an hour after me and the furniture would already be there anyway. My sister was going to the swimming baths with the school so she would be the last person to come home. I came out of school that day full of optimism, nervousness, fear, excitement, etc., etc. I went through the whole bit. I walked up the six steps at the stair head of the tenement and into the corridor on the bottom flat. At the end of the corridor there were recesses left and right to the first two flats in the tenement. There was a staircase of 16 steps leading up to the next two middle flats and to the right of the staircase six steps down to a door leading to the back green, a communal grassy area where tenants could hang their washing. Also there was a garden area for each of the six tenants in the block. Our house was a middle flat so I walked up the first set of stairs. At the top of the stairs there was a large sash and case window. A right turning took you to a small landing then another six steps to a bigger landing and about four feet to my door on the left. I nervously pulled the key from my pocket and turned it in the door. It was a big door but it opened easily and I stepped into the hall. This hall was about 24 feet long with bedrooms left and right halfway in. Just before the living room door at the end of the hall there was a left turning which took you into the bathroom and just before it on the right, was a coal cellar. With all this taken in, I opened the living room door and went in. As I turned to my right I was stunned to see two women sitting in the chairs. One was a heavy-set woman with a reddish face, white hair and she was quite a domineering type. The other was a bit older with a vacant look and staring eyes. I stood rooted to the spot. I thought I must be in the wrong house. Just then the older woman started screaming and shouting to “get oot ma bloody hoose” and ranting and raving. I tried to run but my legs wouldn’t move and just when I thought I was going to pass out the other woman said in a calm but deliberate voice “It’s alright Robert. Your mum will be here shortly. Don’t worry”. This seemed to reassure me somewhat and just as my legs were getting the feeling back in them the door opened and two big policemen came in. It all erupted again only this time there was no messing about, and the vacant woman was lifted bodily and taken away in the police van. The other woman explained to me that the vacant one was the ex-tenant of our flat and had been in a mental hospital. She had escaped and having still being in possession of the key for the flat she had come home. Lucky for me the younger woman, Emily, was already there to meet me in case my mother didn’t make it in time. Anyway Emily made me a cup of tea with a doughnut and she was my friend for life. I will never forget that day for as long as I live. Emily turned out to be our next-door neighbour and was to be a great friend to the family for many years to come. This was my introduction to my new home and as I lay in bed that night I wondered what was in store for me in the future.

Chapter 2 – The Gang.

Whilst attending St. Ninian’s I had made a friend. His name was Tony McEwan and he stayed just round the corner from me in Loaning Road. Tony was a year older than me and was to have a big influence on my early teenage years. The first weekend in Loganlea Gardens was a rude awakening to life in general. A knock came to my door on Saturday morning and when my mother answered the door I heard Tony’s voice, “Is Boab comin’ oot?” (he always called me Boab). “That’s Tony for ye Robert” and I was off like a shot. Tony said he was going to take me to see the gang and we walked up to the top of the road. The street on the right-hand side going down the road was Loaning Road where Tony lived, and where Craigentinny Castle was situated. A real Castle run by the Council. Social series, social clubs, Community Hall, a lot of different amenities for the community split into two sections, the castle and grounds and another section stretching up to the Munrospun Knitwear Factory which contained 12 old concrete air-raid shelters which were a haven for the kids to play in. “Climb over the wa’ Boab” Tony said and I tried to comply. I struggled to climb the wall as I had never done anything like this before, so it wasn’t long before my hands and legs were skint and bleeding. As my feet touched the ground on the other side I was confronted by about 30 kids all looking at me as if I had come from another world and I soon found out that I had! As Tony introduced me to all the gang boys and girls a blonde-headed boy came forward. He was stocky, dirty, a couple of years older than me and looked like he needed a shave. He had a permanent smirk on his face and was menacing. “Dae ye want tae join the gang Batten?” he said. I nodded and he said “right, ye have tae pass three tests”. I said “ok”. Tony told me that now I had agreed I would have to go through with the tests or no one would speak to me again. I wasn’t feeling confident. The first test Frank the gang leader said was to climb back up the wall and jump off the top of it to the ground below. I did this, and as well as getting more bloodied knees and hands, when I hit the ground this time my knees came up to my face and knocked two teeth out. The next test was for me to be thrown into a giant nettle bush (about six feet high). I didn’t know how I did it but I threw myself into the middle of it and I could not get back out again. The gang had to use big pieces of wood and trample the nettles to get me out. I felt like I wasn’t going to live much longer after that but Frankie boy said I had to complete the last test. There was a tree at the start of the shelter complex close to the castle which had no branches on it. It went straight up for about fifty feet or more. It had a series of knots going right up the tree and I was supposed to climb to the top. First of all I hated heights. I just about had a nose bleed when I climbed the wall. By this time my whole body was throbbing with the effects of the nettles but I did not, for some reason, feel afraid. Also, after the nettles test I think I had won a few friends in the gang. So I started to climb the tree. The first half seemed OK but then I started to sweat and my hands and feet started to slip. I made it to the top but it looked like it had been pouring rain right down the tree and it was all sweat! All the gang except Frank were cheering, and at that moment I felt like I had climbed Mount Everest! Tony shouted “that was great Boab; ye can come doon now”. I had never thought of that. How do I come down? At that moment I suddenly became petrified and I could not move. Tony shouted again and I somehow spluttered “I can’t move”. I then heard a voice saying “are ye aw’ right Boab?” I turned my head and I saw Tony’s mother at her top-flat window only 30 feet away and I shouted to her that I could not move. She said she was going to phone the fire brigade. They arrived about ten minutes later. By that time there was a crowd of about 100 people, reporters, photographers etc., etc. I thought my Dad was going to have a heart attack. He said I was grounded and I wasn’t to have anything to do with the local kids. How was I going to do that? It was impossible to avoid them. A couple of weeks after my introduction ceremony into the gang, I was returning from Mass with my sister (most Catholics went to Mass in these days) when I met Tony. “Are ye comin’ over tae the shelters Boab?” he said. “What’s happening?” I said. “It’s the Sunday fights” he replied. I was a bit bemused but I agreed so off we went. As we dropped down from the wall I could see 30 or more people standing in a circle between the shelters. There were eight or nine girls there also, but they were not taking part as this was strictly for the boys. I could hear one of the older boys, Gordon Foggo, who was about 11 years old shouting out numbers. “One and nine. seven and eighteen, ten and fourteen” and so on and so forth until all the pairs were selected. There were three even older guys there. Tom, John and Frankie Bell who were all teenagers sitting on the top of a shelter who were going to be the judges. Tony and I were quickly indoctrinated into the event. “Batten number 12, Loans (this was Tony’s nickname because he lived in Loaning Road) number 20”. Everyone went quiet when all the numbers were put in an old hat by Gordon Foggo and shuffled about. “First pair” he shouted “number 12 Batten and number 16 Scott”. Brian Scott lived in the same tenement as me and had three brothers and three sisters. He was also about a year older than me. I really didn’t know what was going to happen but when Foggo shouted “Go”, all hell broke loose. Scotty rained that many blows on me that I thought everyone was hitting me. It really only lasted about 15 seconds and I finished up on the ground semi-conscious, covered in blood with everybody cheering and holding Scotty’s hand in the air. Lying there I was thinking that I had gone from living in paradise to suffering in hell. Tony took me to his house and washed most of the blood away, and I said to him that I had better tell my parents that I had received my bruises playing football or I would be grounded again. I duly did this and although my mother protested, my dad said it was part and parcel of playing football as he had played for the Army at international level and knew what to expect. “He has to toughen up sometime Madge” my father said. In the middle of all the carnage there were some good times too. In Craigentinny Castle there was a boys club and a men’s club. Two log cabins about 70 feet long and twelve feet wide. The men’s club had a snooker table, darts, dominoes, cards, bowls and social nights were the order of the day. It was a real hub of the community. The boys’ club had table tennis, darts, football, rounders and basketball. This was also a big success. Football was the big thing and we played all the time but I was hopeless. I was always the last to be picked when they were selecting a team. I was hopeless at all the things the other gang members were good at and I had no confidence in myself whatsoever. The boys club consisted of two clubs – the juniors and the seniors. My club, the juniors, was held on Monday and Wednesday and the seniors Tuesday and Thursday and rarely did the two factions meet. One Monday night while I was trying to play table tennis, two seniors came into the club to see our club leader Mr. Hobbs, a tall mild-mannered man who never lost his temper, but who everyone respected. I was playing Dougie Johnstone, a black lad who was great at all sports and played for Scotland at schoolboy level. He went on to play professional football for St. Mirren and had the respect of everyone. The two seniors were Maurice McLaren and Jimmy Barry who had a big crush on my sister Jean. “Don’t rush yer shots Rab” Jimmy Barry said as I hit another ball into the net. “Wait until the ball reaches its highest bounce before ye hit it. It’s all about timing, ok?” The next few shots I had I couldn’t miss and to my great delight I beat Dougie 2:1 in the match. I was on a different plain. Jimmy told me to come to the seniors club 30 minutes before it started and he would give me some coaching – and I did. I became quite proficient at table tennis and I could now beat Jimmy and Maurice who were the champions of the seniors. Jimmy said timing was everything. “Even at football, Pele plays like he was keeping the beat playing drums. Try and remember that”. One evening at the club Mr. Hobbs gathered us all together and said he had bad news. “Due to a fight which turned into a riot, the seniors have all been expelled”. I was flabbergasted. I couldn’t believe it. We were only two weeks into the new club year, and no seniors. “What’s going to happen to their place in the table tennis league sir?” I asked. “That’s the thing” said Mr. Hobbs. “I want a team from the juniors to play in their place”. “How are you going to pick the team sir?” I asked. “We’ll have a competition and the whole club will take part, with the winner being the captain and the runner-up vice-captain with the other two finalists making up the four man team. It will run for eight weeks”. I was ecstatic and the excitement spread to everyone in the area, event he adults were talking about it. I went into Charlie Kemp’s grocery store for my mother’s messages and he asked me how the competition was going, and how I was doing in it. “We’re down to the last four Mr. Kemp” I said “and I’m still there”. It had all come down to a Wednesday night. The four guys in the semi-final were Dougie Johnstone v. James (Fleenie) Primrose and John Kerr v. Rab Batten. This was going to be the team for the season. Just the captain and the vice-captain to be named. Fleenie was an erratic player but dangerous, and Dougie was classy and fast. It was the best of three and Dougie won 2-1. John Kerr was the younger brother of George Kerr the Great Edinburgh judo man and was a great defensive player but did not have a lot of attacking qualities. However, it was a close game which I won 2-1. The final was quite overwhelming. The club was packed but you could hear a pin drop and hardly anyone moved during the whole contest. Dougie went into a 1-0 lead and was 17-12 in the lead in the second match when Jimmy Barry’s voice echoed through my head “timing, keep the beat”. I was like a whirlwind. I breezed through the game and won the next to win the match, the captaincy and in the next two years the four of us never lost a match. We won the Edinburgh Boys Club Seniors League two years running. I also applied the timing and beat rule to football and became good at this game as well as winning the cup and the ESPL league for my school, St. Ninians. The one thing I still was not good at was standing up for myself. I was still getting mugged every Sunday at “the fights” but I could take the punishment alright and the gang leader Frankie could dish it out. This guy loved to hurt things, people, property, animals. He would tell us we were going out on a raid. We would be stealing, breaking into places, smashing windows. One night we were out, eight of us. Frankie had caught two cats and tied their tails together and started to let off fireworks at the back of them. The poor animals just about ripped each other apart. Frankie was beside himself with laughter. I think secretly everyone was sick to their stomachs but no one said anything. The next thing he decided to do was get a rope and any empty milk bottle which he filled with water. At the bottom flat tenement the handrail from the metal bannister that went up the side of the stairs was about four feet away from the door of the first flat. It had a round flat piece at the bottom and Frankie boy placed the milk bottle on it and started to tie the rope around the neck of the bottle. I asked him what he was going to do and he said he would tie the other end of the rope to the door handle and knock at the door. When the door was opened the bottle with the water would smash into the person and he started to laugh hysterically. Just thinking about it I knew it was an old person who lived in the flat and I told him I was having nothing to do with it. He completed lost the place screaming at me what he was going to do to me with his eyes blazing. To my surprise and relief he never touched me but said I was banned from being in the gang and never to come near the gang hut again. I turned and walked away and to my surprise Richard Foggo the younger brother of Gordon came with me. “Don’t worry Batten, we’ll start our own gang” he said. I was elated! The next Sunday fights started as usual with everyone in attendance. I was up third fighting Daniel Clayden, one of the real tough characters in the street. He lived with his grandmother in the next stair to me. He was a real loner, always in trouble. In later life I think Daniel became a professional with a good career. My turn was here, and we squared up to each other. In the weeks leading up to this fight I had tried a few different things to try to alter the outcome but with no joy. This time I thought I would put my head down and run at him like a bull. Gordon Foggo shouted “go” and I rushed in with my head down. Daniel slipped his two knees over my head and proceeded to rain down blows on my back. I was stranded but at least I wasn’t getting my face punched. This battery seemed to go on for ages then I heard a familiar voice saying “what the hell’s going on here?” It was my dad. Everything came to a stop although my head was still between Daniel’s knees. “It’s the fights” said Gordon Foggo. “Aye, it’s the fights” said John Bell. “And what are you supposed tae be monkey face?” asked my dad. “me and ma brothers are the judges” said the Bell brother “and you’ve got a face like an arse”. Well the next seven or eight minutes were complete mayhem and panic. First my dad knocked the three Bell brothers off the top of the shelter. Then Gordon Foggo and his brother Robert and Ian Scott took a couple of whacks. Daniel Clayden tried to run away with my head still between his knees. It was like Jesus in the Temple whipping the money-lender except Dad was using his fists. I think he must have hit everyone that day. I had never seen my father like that. I was terrified but proud. My dad then grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and took me home. When we got back to the house he said to my mother he was going to teach me to box and defend myself as he had been a booth boxer in his time. My mother said she did not want him to teach me the fisticuffs and there was no need for me to learn when we lived in Loganlea Loan as it was a peaceful place and there was a distinct lack of young men in that area anyway. Anyway, my mother didn’t have much say in the matter and the situation had now changed. For the next two weeks for an hour before I went to bed my dad instructed me. “Keep your hands up in front of you. Your left hand should be like a rapier. Stick it straight out in front of you. Don’t pull it back first. Shoot straight from the elbow. He also showed me how to parry punches, turn defence in attack and how to do infighting if need be. And like the table tennis, I was a good learner. It was now nearly three weeks since I started my instruction. It was Friday and Richard Foggo, myself and a couple of others had made our own shelter gang hut and more or less started our own gang. All the shelters were built the same and made of concrete. There were four concrete steps down to a corridor to the left. About ten feet along there was an opening to the right leading to a large concrete room 12 feet by 40 feet. Perfect for a gang hut. We were all busy in the shelter tidying up, making seats, putting candles on the wall when Frankie and eight of his gang burst in on us. “Right Batten. We’re taking all the stuff that’s in here” he said. “No” I said and the place fell silent. Frankie the psycho charged towards me in a blind rage. When he got about a foot in front of me I could hear my father’s voice saying “straight out in front of you” and I shot my left hand right into Frankie’s face and his nose burst open. He looked at me in disbelief and as he felt the blood running down his face he started to cry uncontrollably and run out of the room. He never was seen in a gang again. In fact he became a real loner and wasn’t seen very often in the Craigentinny area after that. It was the Sunday fights again and it had been three weeks since I had been there. The Bell boys hadn’t come back but most of the regulars were there including Gordon Foggo who said “I hope yer auld man’s no comin’ the day”. I just shook my head and went into the draw. I was drawn first against Brian Scott who lived in the top flat of my stair and had battered me two or three times before. He came running right up to me and I gave him the left jab in the face. He ran away. Next was Bobby Primrose. He lived in the bottom flat of my stair and was an easy going guy but had bludgeoned me once before so the left hand did its job again. The fight had to be stopped as Bobby had a big heart and wouldn’t give up. It was the same story in each fight and eventually I was in the final match. I couldn’t believe it when I found out my opponent was Tony McEwan. I had rarely seen Tony in the fights as I was always beaten early on and always went home dejected. I never ever asked who was the winner as I wasn’t really interested. It turned out Tony was a regular winner and he had been No.1 for the last three weeks. “Well done Boab” Tony said. “You really fought well today but if its alright with you I don’t think we should fight as we are best mates, ok?” I was delighted as I was sick of it by this time and I think Tony would have beaten me. He was a very strong guy. Anyway, we remained friends for the rest of our lives and had some great times together. There were also girl members in the gang and every one of them seemed to be allocated to the boys, except one. Her name was Annette Cooper. Annette was different from the rest of the girls. She was well brought up, intelligent, feminine with a great pony tail and, like me, not rated by any of the gang boys or girls although she took part in a lot of the activities. The whole gang treated her like she was a snob but it never bothered her. One Sunday everyone was in the playground of the other school in the area, Craigentinny Primary, playing rounders, a game like baseball only we used tennis bats and balls and it was great. Everyone enjoyed it and there was little or no animosity in the game. Annette was on my team and it was her turn to bat. I was directly behind her and as the ball came to her she drew back the bat to hit the ball and her back swing hit me full on the nose and I fell to the ground semi-conscious. As I came to, I could hear everyone roaring with laughter, no sympathy there I thought, except for one. When I opened my eyes Annette was holding my head in her hands saying “I’m so sorry Robert, I didn’t mean it”. She was beside herself. The first thing that came into my head was, she was the first person in the gang (except tony) to call me by my Christian name. Everyone else, including the girls, called me Batten. The second thing I noticed was her face – it was lovely – and she had beautiful eyes too. I was in love! I was still a bit shaky so Annette took me by the hand to a chorus of “Annette loves Batten, Annette loves Batten”. I think deep down they were all a bit jealous but I was beaming because Annette was now my girlfriend and the gang had made it official. Tony said to me the following day that I had made an arse of myself in front of everyone but I think he was secretly jealous himself. He just about blew his top when I told him that I was taking Annette to the pictures on Saturday afternoon. The word soon got around about our arrangement for the pictures and it was a big talking point amongst the group. Saturday afternoon came and I met Annette at the top of our street. She looked great with her blonde ponytail and little bomber jacket with tight trousers and furry boots and I was more in love. “Where would you like to go?” I asked, trying to sound all grown up. “I’d quite like to see A Summer Place at the Eastway. I said OK and we got on our way. The Eastway Picture House was at the top of Easter Road near the famous Hibernian Football Club stadium and it was always packed on a Saturday afternoon with kids from all the neighbourhoods. Everything was going through my mind like “should I hold her hand, will I kiss her, will we sit in the back row?” As we turned the corner to go to the bus stop we were amazed to see about 20 gang members facing us and chanting “Batten loves Annette, Annette loves Batten”. Tony was there too and I asked him what was going on. He said that they were all coming to the pictures with us and they were going to watch our every move. Bloody hell, my high spirits dropped to an all-time low. This was going to be a disaster. By the time we reached the pictures, a queue had formed outside and it had started to rain. Could it get any worse I thought to myself. The gang had all managed to get in before us and by the time we got in they had occupied all the back row seats. In fact, Annette and I got the last two seats and they were in the front row. The chants kept going until the movie started and then everything was fine although every now and then a bit of popcorn or a lolly stick would hit me on the head. The film was a love story and when it came to the part when the guy kisses the girl the whole gang shouted “kiss her Batten”. I had never kissed a girl before and I froze. Annette said “Robert”, and when I looked at her she kissed me full on the lips and I think everyone in the theatre cheered. In fact the gang went on with the cheering a bit too long and they were all ejected. We were the talk of the street for weeks after that and I gained a lot of respect from everyone. In fact, I think the boy members of the bang saw the girls in a different light after that episode and there were a few romances going on between them. These were good days and everything was going my way. Everyone was growing up and my relationship with Annette was getting better. We were becoming more serious now although nothing serious was happening but I think if I had wanted to, she wouldn’t have stopped me. We were both 14 now and we had a little routine at night before we went to sleep in our respective houses. Annette stayed on the other side of the street from me. In fact our bedrooms faced each other. We would always look through the window and wave to each other and we had done this for about a year. One Saturday night I looked through the window but there was no sign of Annette. For the next two hours I kept looking out for her but still no Annette. Just as I was about to go to sleep I heard footsteps in the deserted street. I looked out of the window and shock, horror, there was Annette walking hand in hand with a guy and they disappeared into her stair. Never had I felt so many different emotions at the same time. I lay in my bed for about 15 minutes and then I thought “fuck this”. I quickly put on my clothes. Five minutes later I am at the stair head and I have only one emotion left now in my mind – anger. I shouted “Annette, are you in there?” but there was no answer. This time I shouted at the top of my voice “if you don’t come out, I’m coming in”. This time Annette came out and told me it was her cousin she was with. “Liar” I shouted just as the guy appeared. He looked about 17 and started to tell me to calm down. He kept calling me “pal” and eventually rage got the better of me and I gave him a straight left hook to the chin and he went down like a sack of potatoes. By this time all the neighbours were out as well as Annette’s mother who told me I should be ashamed of myself for my outburst. I told her Annette should be ashamed of herself for two-timing me with an older guy. I had never felt like this before and by the time I had returned to my house it was worse. At 14 I thought my whole world had come to an end. When I woke up next morning I still felt bad and then I thought to myself the gang will have a field day with this. I thought they’d be gleefully taunting me with cruel comments etc. but to my amazement they all supported me and shunned Annette. In fact two weeks later it was her birthday and she invited every one of the gang except me to her party but not one of them accepted and it gave me the lift I needed. I never spoke to Annette for four years until the night before Tony and I were going to London to work and her father invited us up to her house for a farewell drink and we buried the hatchet. When I came back from London Annette and I became friends and we used to bounce our problems off each other,. She had a high profile job and married an older man. They had a son together who was the image of Annette. She died comparatively young of leukaemia. I was at the funeral as were a lot of the old gang members. It was a sad occasion and all the memories came flooding back that day. R.I.P. Annette.

Chapter 3 – The Working Life.

I left school when I was 15 years old and started to work in Munrospun Hosiery Factory, a stone’s throw from my house. My sister was already working there and in fact, at that time, you could not get a job in there unless you had a relative already working in the place. Tony McEwan and I were firmly mates. He worked in the local brewery. The pop scene was underway in the UK with guys like Tommy Steele and Lonnie Donegan the top guys. The American scene was buoyant with the likes of Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis, Gene Vincent, Eddie Cochran and of course Bill Haley and the Comets were the big act on the planet. The local dance halls still had the big bands playing but instead of doing a quickstep the teenagers were jiving and all the buys were wearing “drape suits”. They called themselves “teddy boys”. The first time Rock Around the Clock came to the local cinema (the Regent) Tony and I queued for four hours to get in to see it. My sister and her pal May Bell were in front of and when we finally got in, Jean and May got up to jive when the opening credits came up on the screen and the title song started to play. They were immediately ejected by the ushers and didn’t see any of the film but they didn’t care as it made the Evening News the next day and they were celebrities (for two days)! After that it was a real time for revolution and rebellion and the kids had money to spend as there was practically no unemployment in 1959. Anyway, I started in the Munrospun factory with high hopes. I had a drape suit on, my hair was styled in a Tony Curtis with a D.A. (duck’s arse) at the back and a pair of blue suede shoes on my feet. I was ready. I was being taken on as a trainee cotton frame worker and when I entered the cotton frame department I couldn’t believe the size and length of these machines. They must have been 35 feet long and very noisy. It was also very hot (80 degrees) but I couldn’t take my eyes off the operators. They were poetry in motion. The never stopped moving. Everything was done at speed and there was a reason for this. They were all on peacework. This meant that the more you produced, the more you were paid. I want this I thought to myself as I entered the foreman’s office. The foreman was Harry Turner, a tall man with black hair and a little grey growing in. He was a firm’s man and had worked in the place since he left school at 14. He could be a bit ignorant at times but but I liked him and I think he liked me. He was a fair man. “What dae ye think aboot this place then Robert?” he said in his rough voice. “Looks great Harry” I said. “I can’t wait to get my hands dirty on the machines”. “Well, ye’ll no be getting’ oan the frames for aboot a year and a half, as ye’ll be a message laddie until then. It’s £3.3/9 a week and ye work a week’s notice”. Devastation sunk in. I couldn’t believe it. I was going to have to wait a year and a half just to start learning to be like these supermen who were operating these machines. “Go along wi’ Stuart and Davie. They’ll show ye the ropes” Harry said as he began to deal with the mountain of paper that was on his desk. “And it’s Mr. Turner tae you”. Stuart Gordon like me had ginger hair and a thing for everything American. When everyone was wearing drape suits he was wearing American jackets with the baggy trousers and skating jerkins and all American shirts and shoes. He was flashy and self-opinionated and I was quite impressed. Davy Morrison was tall and athletic. I came across him at the football pitch (although we were at different schools he was captain of the team, captain of the basketball team, sports champion and head prefect of his school) and in fact, a good all-rounder. I liked Davy but he was a bit of a square. Davy said the job was to keep the men happy, go for extra wool, run down old garments for re-use, get mechanics for the machines, go for fags, etc at the shops – all the menial tasks. But every Friday you had to help clean the machines with them which took about four hours, in between steam pipes and oil, with giant cockroaches jumping about all over the place and they had to be spanking clean. Stuart said the best job was in the winding room rewinding old garments down and I soon found out why. As we entered this large room there was eight young girls aged from 15-17 rewinding garments. Stuart just looked at me and winked. There was a huge canteen inside the factory and we had our breaks there at 10am and 3pm. The first time I had a break there, I counted 100 women and twelve men. I think the workforce consisted of 300 women and 24 men. I sat at the top of the table and just listened to the guys talking. It was quite interesting. When the 15 minutes was nearly up everyone at the table started piling their plates up or putting their cups one inside the other. The next thing I knew was they were being passed to me. “The new guy always takes the dishes back to the counter” said Davy Morrison. “Well, not me” I said thinking of course “I’ve got a drape suit on and blue suede shoes and I don’t do taking cups and saucers back”. So I walked out and left them. I was back in the department collecting empty wool cones when Harry shouted “Robert, go and see Sam McHendry right away”. I made my way to Sam’s machine. Sam was a skinny slightly reddish in the face man, starting to lose his hair early. He lived next door to me and in fact his mother was Emily, she who had saved me from the vacant looking one when I first moved into my house. “Come here a minute Robert” said Sam and he sounded a bit serious. “If you want to keep your job here” he said looking straight into my face, “you’ll do well to remember that the message boy does everything here including taking the dishes back at the break. Every message boy in the past has done it and you’ll do it or ye can walk oot the door now”. I said “ok” and walked away with my tail between my legs. I realised after that day that it was Sam who ruled the department and not Harry Turner. Sam was also the District Secretary of the Hosiery Workers’ Union. It was the end of my first two weeks in my job at Munrospun and it was pay-day. I got my envelope at 5pm on Friday afternoon (working days were 8am to 6pm in those days) and I was told I could go home which was the custom when you received your first pay packet. I felt great. I would give my mother my whole pay packet and get ten shillings back. This would easily last me the whole week. When I walked out the factory door I met Boab Primrose from the old gang who lived in the bottom flat in my stair. “How’s it gaun?” Boab said in a deep voice. “Great Boab” I said. “What are ye up to?” “I’m gaun tae the bookie’s tae pit a bet on fur ma faither”. Dae ye want to chum me?” As I had plenty time to spare I said that I would go and off we went. The bookie’s shop was going like a fair and Boab stood in the queue with his dad’s bet. He motioned to come over and said “There’s only two horses in next race Rab” he said with a serious look on his face “and Lester Piggott’s on the favourite.” As I had not a clue about horse racing Boab explained that the favourite in this case hadn’t lost a race. Six straight wins and had the champion jockey on its back and its odds were even money. It couldn’t lose. Boab said if I get £3 on it to win I would get £6 back. I was hooked. It was a hurdles race and at the off my horse raced into a 10 length lead. By the fourth hurdle it was 30 lengths in front. I was in heaven. It came to the fifth and as it jumped one of its front legs hit the hurdle catapulting Lester Piggott out of the saddle on to its neck and down to the ground. I thought the wrath of God had descended on me. I was in a state of shock. My dad was going to murder me, my mother would never speak to me again, Boab Primrose would tell all the guys in the street and I would be a laughing stock. As I walked up the street in a daze I met two of the girls who worked beside me, June and Roberta. June asked me what was wrong and I told them I had lost my wages. By this time I was shaking and definitely not in a great frame of mind. They took me back into the factory canteen and got me a cup of tea and a cake before disappearing out the door. They came back about 20 minutes later and handed me a handkerchief. The girls had taken up a collection for me around the department. There was £5.10s in it. I was speechless. I had told them I had lost the money and they thought I had lost it in the street. I couldn’t tell them they had got it all wrong. I realised then that Munrospun was a real caring, family workplace. I was growing up fast, not just in height (6 feet tall). I had drunk my first pint and I was going to the Palais de Dance at the weekend. Everyone went to the Palais. My sister was a regular and a great jiver and she had been teaching me for months. She loaned me her red jacket with Johnnie Rae written on the back and Tony’s sister gave him her jerkin. When we arrived at the Palais there was a huge queue rlght along the road and the excitement was immense. We walked down the stairs and I said to Tony “what a size of a dance floor”. Tony said “this isnae the dance floor Boab. This is the foyer”. It was an amazing place. In the dance hall there was a huge balcony all the way around the room and tables and chairs fitted in very tastefully. There was a huge revolving bandstand at the back of the room with a 20-piece band playing and a four piece combo on the other side of the revolving stage. Just as we entered the dance hall the four piece combo were starting to play. They were great for jivers. I could see my sister with all the girls from the factory and when she saw me she came quickly over and said “Gimme a jive Robert”. I was nervous but when the band started playing Tutti Frutti I was on my way. We really got into it and before long everyone made a circle around us and started to clap to the beat. I started to make things up that we hadn’t practised and when I missed Jean’s hand after a double turn she lost the place. “Ya stupid bloody idiot” she screamed. “Can ye not keep time?” I froze to the spot and everybody in the place seemed to be staring at me and laughing as Jean kept on with the tirade. I fled the hall into the toilets and locked myself in. About fifteen minutes later I heard Tony’s voice. “Are ye in here Boab?” I opened the door and told him how embarrassed I felt and he said he thought I did great in the hall and Jean was looking to dance with me again. I returned to the dancefloor and Jean apologised for her outburst and we resumed the jive and this time it was perfect. I made a lot of friends that night and most of them were girls. I was a regular at the Palais. It was a place you could go to on your own and you always met someone you knew there. It played a big part later on in my life. Cliff Richard and the Shadows were the big group in the UK at this period in time and as I walked into the factory on Monday morning I heard Davy Morrison singing Move It as he was sweeping the floor. I told him I thought he had a good voice and maybe he should get himself a guitar. He said he already had one and if I wanted to come up to his house he would let me hear some more songs. The following Friday night I went to Davy’s house and to my surprise he had a beautiful acoustic guitar with a pick-up and a small amplifier. I was inpressed. He could also play it well and his singing was great but he looked square. I didn’t care. “I’ve got a banjo here Rab if you want to have a go”. I was excited until he brought out the banjo and it only had one string on it. Anyway I started to plonk the banjo along with Davy. There was not much of a tune out of it but I seemed to keep the timing or beat with it and we started to enjoy ourselves. One day at work Davy was telling Stuart in the corner of the department and he called me over to them. “Stuart has a solid electric guitar and wants to join our band” he said. “Can he play it?” I asked. “Yeah” said Davy “and he can sing too”. “Good” I said. “let’s have a practice on Friday”. The Friday practice was eagerly awaited and it was brilliant. Stuart brought another dimension to the group. He was a different kind of singer to Davy and his solid guitar made the sound a bit heavier. I was still playing the one-stringed banjo and I was more or less slapping the banjo like I was playing a drum. Stuart said to me “you’re good at keeping the beat Rab. Why don’t you hit the banjo skin with drumsticks?” “Where will I get drumsticks?” I asked. “I’ve got a pair in my guitar case” said Stuart. Well, there was no stopping me and the band now. All we need is a name. The very next day my mother was reading a book called “The Midnight Revellers” and suddenly we had our name. We had been rehearsing for about two months and I came up with the idea of doing a bus run to Galashiels and we could maybe get 35-40 people to go. We could hire a hall in a hotel for a dance and we could play. The buys both agreed it was a good idea so we put up a notice in the canteen and we got over 100 names. It was unbelievable! I phoned up a bus company in Loanhead and they said they could give us 2x45 seaters. I phoned a hotel in Galashiels and the Manager said we could have the function suite which held up to 100 people. It was the talk of the factory. It ended up that we could have had 200 people there but we settled for 90. In the meantime I had a visit from my cousin Toto McNaughton a great Edinburgh drummer who said I could borrow his drums for the Galashiels gig as he was playing in the Palais that week and he would be using the resident drummer’s kit. I couldn’t sleep at night with the excitement of it all. The day finally arrived for the Galashiels gig. Two big luxury coaches arrived outside the factory at 3 o’clock for the off. There were 15 guys and 75 girls all dressed up and ready for a good time. We arrived at the hotel in good spirits and when we saw the function room it was the icing on the cake! It was a lovely room beautifully set out with a cocktail bar at one end and a small stage at the other. We told the bus party to have a drink at the bar and we would set up our equipment and try out a number. It took me a while to set up the drum kit as I had never set one up before never mind play a set of drums. Remembering we had no microphones, I had not played drums before and this was our first public performance and it was quite daunting to say the least. Then calamity – as Davy was tuning his guitar the bridge broke which rendered it useless. We all stared at each other in disbelief. I made a suggestion that Davy should play Stuart’s guitar but Stuart wasn’t having it and an argument ensued with the three of us falling out and packing up the equipment. I went to a nearby pub with a guy called Joe Kane and his brother, a tough guy who liked a drink and a fight. A couple of hours later we were drunk as skunks and challenging everyone. We were ejected ignominiously from the bar and made our way back to the hotel. There had been some sort of ruckus at the hotel and all the Munrospun crowd were getting back on the buses. “Yer drums are oan the bus Rab” said Davy. “Everybody’s calling it a day”. I agreed with Davy and got on the bus. Joe Kane was getting on the bus when one of the locals grabbed the back of his coat. He fell backwards and the doors of the bus closed and it began to move off. I glanced out the window of the bus only to see Joe and Davy in the middle of about 10 guys all punching and picking them. I screamed at the driver to stop and with three or four of the guys on the bus we managed to get Joe and Davy back on. Everyone was singing on the way home and they all thought it was a brilliant day out except me. Due to the drink and feeling miserable I fell asleep. I was awakened by the sound of empty bottles rolling up and down the aisle. It was early morning and was still dark. I staggered up to the driver and asked him where we were. “Loanhead” he said. Just about back at the depot. Loanhead is miles away I thought and the drums are still on the bus. “Ye’ll have tae take me back to Edinburgh” I said to the driver. “Nae danger – I’m off tae ma bed” he said. Well that was it. I had had a disappointing time in Galashiels, the band event didn’t happen, I fell out with Stuart, I was involved in two fights apart from the fact I had got drunk, been violently sick and my friend Davy whom I had saved from a beating had left me on the bus! I told the driver he had three choices. He could fight with me right now but as he was a wee fat slob and the way I was feeling, I didn’t think that was an option. He could get out of the bus and I would drive it or he could run me back to Edinburgh. “Aw’right, I’ll take ye back to the toon but just the West End mind” he said making it sound like it was Outer Mongolia! The driver never even said “Cheerio” (I wonder why!) when he left me at the bottom of Lothian Road at the junction with Princes Street. It was about 4 o’clock in the morning and I had piled the drums and myself into a phone box to stave off the weather as it was now snowing. My house in Loganlea Gardens was the only house in the street that had a telephone at that time. My dad said he wished he had never had it installed as everyone in the street used it at one time or another. I couldn’t feel my hands or feet now because of the cold so I decided to phone my house. My old man answered and for the next couple of minutes the air was blue. When he calmed down I explained the situation and he said he would come and pick me up in his wee car (that he had bought the week before for £25). I felt rescued. I went to work on Monday morning thinking everyone would view me as a failure but to my surprise everyone thought that it had been a great day out and the band wasn’t even mentioned. I didn’t know whether to be happy or disappointed. Even Stuart had forgotten our tiff and said he was looking forward to our next practice. After the Galashiels episode I had made up my mind about something. I needed to get a set of drums of my own so I spoke to my Mother. She told me to let her speak to my Dad but she wasn’t hopeful. That evening my Dad told me he would help me to get a set of drums. He would put down a deposit on them but I would have to pay the hire purchase myself and I agreed. I was beside myself with excitement. We went to Gordon Simpsons music store in Stafford Street on the next Saturday and it was like being in heaven. Drums, guitars, mikes, fiddles, pianos, you name it, he had it. Gordon Simpson was a likeable man, heavy-set with black hair and a red face. He couldn’t have been more helpful. He said he had a half-set of drums, white in colour. They were Olympic make consisting of bass drum, snare drum, tenor, tom-tom, cymbal and hi-hat. “How much?” my Dad asked. “Thirty pounds and ten shillings” Gordon replied. “Two pounds down and two and six a week” he added. My Dad nodded and the drums were mine. That same night that I took my drums home I had a visit from my cousin Toto McNaughton. He told me that he was supposed to be playing with a band called the Dominoes on the Monday night but as he had been offered a prestigious job with the combo in the Palais he asked if I could play with the Dominoes who incidentally were the only rock n’ roll band in Edinburgh at that time. Toto didn’t have to ask me twice and I said yes! Toto McNaughton was a jazz drummer so it was easy for him to convert to rock n’ roll. He was already a legend in Edinburgh and although he did a lot of deputising with different bands he wasn’t a permanent fixture with any one band but he was soon to form the Dean Hamilton Combo which eventually became The Boston Dexters who were one of the best four piece bands in Scotland and legends in Edinburgh. The gig I was doing was in Perth town Hall so we had to get a ferry over to North Queensferry as there was no Forth Road Bridge at that then. I was to meet the band at the Shakespeare bar in Lothian Road at 4.30pm on Monday afternoon so I phoned in sick to my work and had the day off. Toto said I would be using his drums and they would already be in the van. I arrived at the bar on time and feeling really nervous as these guys were all great musicians and I was being thrown in at the deep end. “Are you the drummer chap?” Johnny Horn the sax player asked me. “Aye, that’s me” I replied and they never spoke another word to me on the journey to Perth. I don’t even remember them speaking to each other. They were quite a weird lot. We duly arrived at Perth Town Hall and carried the equipment in. It was a huge place with a large stage, lighting, band room, etc, etc. There were already about 200 people inside and that was an hour before we started. In the band room the sax player gave me a tartan jacket which belonged to Toto. I was 6 ft tall and Toto was 5ft 5. The sleeves were tight and half way up my arms and the jacket looked like a bolero jacket and was tight into my waist. It took me a long time to set the drum kit up as it was a full kit and I had only set up a half kit before. The band were good and I knew most of the numbers – Lucille, Great Balls of Fire, Move It, Blue Suede Shoes, Johnny B Goode, etc etc. We played all evening and there must have been 1500 kids in when we finished and the only time any of the band spoke to me was to tell me what number we were doing next. I should have been on a high but I wasn’t. there was no fun in these guys. In fact they were all morons. When we were all packed up and on our way home the sax player said “drummer boy, here’s yer wages” and handed me a pound. They never said another word to me, not even “cheerio” when they dropped me off at the bus stop in Lothian Road. Toto phoned me the next night to ask me how I got on. I told him I thought I did OK and never made a mistake in any of the numbers. He asked me how much I was paid for the gig and I told him “£1”. He was furious. He said I should have got £1.50! in the next seven or eight years I came across all of these guys when I played in other venues and everyone who played with them agreed with me that they were all odd characters. Meanwhile there was great excitement in the factory as the Munrospun Ball was nearly upon us. The Munrospun Ball was a yearly event and it was held in the Assembly Rooms in George Street, Edinburgh. It was for all the workers and their friends to let their hair down after a long year working and this was my first. Davy Morrison and I were going together and we decided to go for a drink. He was a bit older than me and was well built for his age. I was skinny but tall but with my drape suit on, I looked the part. We drew a blank with the first three bars we went into and we were promptly ejected from them. The fourth bar we entered was packed and Davy said he would get the drinks, and it worked. Three pints later we were both legless! Davy was worse than me, I have to say. By the time we arrived at the Ball we could hardly talk but we managed to get inside. Davy disappeared and I decided to get another drink. There was a makeshift bar consisting of five or six tables with a worktop-like surface on top but it was just thrown together. When I went to the bar I was seeing three barmen but there was in fact only one! The bar top was littered with glasses, some empty, some half-full, there were bottles, half-eaten bags of crisps, water jugs, etc., etc. The barman had lost control and so had I. I reached over to grab one of the bottles which still had beer in it and I tripped and fell across the bar knocking most of its contents within a six feet radius to the floor. Everyone came running across to the bar, and they were all laughing at me lying in amongst the bottles and glasses. Two of the older men picked me up and started to frogmarch me to the door and then I realised I had lost Davy Morrison. The two older men were determined to eject me but I had it in my mind that somehow Davy was in trouble. The next fifteen minutes was crazy although I didn’t remember a lot about it. I managed to break free from the two men and seemingly by all accounts everyone who came in contact with me received a blow. I wakened up about an hour and a half later in the Gents and I heard a moan from the next door cubicle. I stood on the toilet seat and looked over the top and lo and behold, there was Davy sitting with his head in his hands. He had been in the toilet since we arrived. I told him to open the door and we washed our hands and faces which made us feel a bit better. Davy asked me where the blood on my suit had come from and I said I didn’t know. Everything was a blank to me as it was for Davy. This was our first Munrospun Ball and we had been looking forward to it for weeks and here we were, not remembering a thing about it! I attended seven Munrospun Balls in my time at the factory and they were all brilliant but I do have to say that someone always made a fool of themselves. I am glad to say I only did it once and I paid the price for it! The Monday after the Ball I went to work as usual. I got a blank stare from everyone I said good morning to. When I reached my machine I looked at my bar filler who worked alongside me and she had a long face too. Agnes Shanks was an older woman who came from the Border town of Hawick and had been with Munrospun for a long time. She was guiding me through every aspect of the job. “Ye made a right arse of yerself at the dance Robert. What were ye thinking aboot?” I was shocked. “I can’t remember a thing Agnes. What did I do?” “Have a look at Davy Scott and Joe Thomson” she said angrily. I looked up the passageway at the two men and they were both sporting black eyes. “Now look at Eddie Eddington” she said without looking at me. He also had a black eye and a cut lip. “And that’s not all” Agnes said indignantly. “Roberta Bryant has a black eye as well”. My jaw fell a mile to the floor. Roberta was one of the pin up girls in the department. She was one of the girls who was instrumental in getting my wages back for me when I lost them in the bookies shop. It was my first wage and I stupidly put it into the bookies. I asked Agnes what I should do as everyone was giving me a body swerve. “You’ll have to apologise to everyone” was her advice. I wondered how I was going to do that as every time I approached somebody they just ignored me. We had a fifteen minute break at 10am in the morning and we had a large cafeteria in the factory. There was about 100 women and 20 men there at one time. When everyone was settled I took the plunge. I stood up quickly and said “could I have your attention please? “ you could have heard a pin drop at that moment. Although I was on my feet I did not know what to say until Agnes shouted, “go on Rab son. Tell them”. I said “my pal Davy Morrison and I started out for the Ball on Saturday night with great excitement. Neither of us had tasted alcohol before that night. We had three pints each and cannot remember anything after that. I would like to apologise to Davy, Joe and Eddy for my actions. And Roberta, I feel totally ashamed about injuring you after what you did for me. Anyone else I bad-mouthed or was disrespectful to I would like to apologise to also. I hope everyone can forgive me.” There was a short silence then Agnes started to clap and everyone joined in. All the guys patted me on the back and I felt great. I was flavour of the month for two or three days and I vowed never to let myself down like that again. I continued practising with Stuart and Davy but my heart wasn’t really in it. I had had a taste of the big time with the Dominoes and the other two didn’t seem to have their hearts in it. One night Davy and I were out on a date with two girls and Davy’s date said they were on the Committee of a Youth Club called “The Cephas” in Stafford Street right across from Gordon Simpson’s music shop and they had groups playing there. They said they would get us an audition. All of a sudden the boys were interested again and we went for the audition on a Saturday afternoon. There were six or seven people working in the club plus the Committee members so we had a small audience. Stuart kicked off with “Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin On” and we were halfway through the number when the Chairman of the Committee put his hand up and stopped us. “The music sounds good boys” he said, “but you can’t hear your voices at all because you don’t have a PA system”. Bang! – we were back to earth. We never thought we would need a PA system because we were already practising without one. We never of course realised it would be different playing in a hall! I was dejected. The boys didn’t seem to mind that much and just as we were leaving the Club a guy came up to me and gave me a phone number saying “I’ve got a good band together and we need a drummer. I think you would fit the bill”. I told Davy about it and he said to go for it. Two weeks’ later I’m playing with the Penny Farthing. It was great. Everyone seemed as intense as me and the band was the centre of our world. We played monthly at youth clubs in and around Edinburgh and I couldn’t have been happier. But I didn’t reckon on one thing – the advent of girls. The bass player and leader of the band was first. He said his girlfriend didn’t like him playing in the band and therefore he was leaving. The singer was next as he announced that his girlfriend was pregnant and he was having to get married and was going to get a good job (the permissive society hadn’t really begun yet). The band lasted for seven months and now it was finished I was on a downer. Shortly after that Davy Morrison announced he was getting married and asked me to be his best man. The first thing I thought of was why would he want to get married instead of playing in a band?!

Chapter 4 – The Checkers.

Three months went by and I was inactive band-wise. I was chumming around with Tony again, dancing, drinking and girls but I still couldn’t forget the band scene. My cousin Toto was playing with a cracking outfit called The Edinburgh Crusaders led by keyboard player Tam Paton who would later become manager of the Bay City Rollers. He invited me to a club he was playing at called The Gamp Club. It was one of the first beat clubs in Edinburgh, dark like a cave and packed to the gunwhales. Halfway through the evening Toto called me over and asked me to sit in with the band and I was excited again. I had never played with such a band and they were all complimenting me when I came off stage unlike my experience with the Dominoes. I had the fever again but I didn’t know how I was going to get back in the scene. A couple of weeks’ later Tony and I were standing on the corner of the street. It was a Saturday night and as usual we were having a couple of cans of beer before we went home. Dougie Johnstone was passing and came over to speak to us. “There’s a great group playing at the Castle Youth Club on Sunday night” he said. “You should come along”. We said we’d think about it but I knew Tony wouldn’t go as he had become a bit of an introvert and wasn’t comfortable with a crowd of people and I didn’t really fancy watching a band and having people telling me how good they were if I wasn’t playing. On the Sunday night a weird thing happened. I was sitting watching TV and I started to daydream about the Youth Club and the band that was playing. I started to fantasise that the band had arrived and their drummer was ill, so they called for me. At that moment a knock came to the door and it was Dougie Johnstone. Unbelievably he said that the band in the Club had arrived with no drummer and Dougie had suggested asking me to play with them. I thought – “This is a sign”. This is exactly how it happened. When I arrived at the Club it was packed. It was a large hall inside Craigentinny Castle with a makeshift stage at one end. Three were only three guys in the band, a lead guitar, rhythm guitar and a singer. Pete, Hoss and Tam (The Checkers) but they were superb and I fitted in perfectly. After the gig the crowd were all chanting for more and Dougie asked us to play every week. This was a real happy time in my performing life and we were kings of the youth club scene. Sometimes we were playing for free but it didn’t matter to me as long as I was playing. One of the highlights in the Castle club was when my Mother and Father dropped in one night on their way to the social club and my Mother couldn’t understand why the girls were all screaming when we were playing the songs. A few months later I was setting up my drums in the Castle club when Hoss who was the band leader informed me that Pete the lead guitarist had quit the band and was emigrating but we would just play on without him. The gig was never the same and everyone knew it especially the crowd. At the end of the night it was the end of the band. I couldn’t explain the feeling I had; anger, betrayal, sorrow, the end of the world. The next couple of months were a blur. I had started going out with Tony again mostly drinking and going to other towns at the weekends. It was a miserable time. One day just before my 18th birthday, Tony came up with the idea of moving to England. “We could get a job in the Luton car factory” he said. He had talked me into doing a lot of daft things in my young life and I always looked up to him so I agreed. When I told my parents my Mother was hysterical but my Dad was quite calm about it and said to my Mother, “he’ll last aboot five days”. We duly handed in our respective notices at work and went out with all the boys for a night the week before we were leaving for Luton. It was a good night although two of our mates, Ronnie and Wullie were really in a sad mood as they were truly our best mates. The Palais was packed that night and it looked as if the whole of Edinburgh was in the building. Shorty Rodgers the singer with the Nat Allen Orchestra announced that Tony and I were going to England and everyone wished us well. Two guys came up to us and said they were going down to London at the same time and would we like a lift? We could share the petrol with them. We were only too glad to say yes and the following Saturday we were off. Aitchy and Billy were two or three years older than us and were going to London to work as joiners. They were both jack the lad types and good fun. We had a great laugh going down south but when we saw the sign at the border saying “haste ye back” we all fell silent until Aitchy shouted “England here we come!” and the sadness was over. It was around 4 o’clock in the morning when we arrived in London and there wasn’t many people walking around the streets obviously. Aitchy stopped a West Indian guy walking past us and asked him if there was any place open where we could get something to eat. He said there was a club in Soho and it was open until 8am. He jumped in the car and directed us to the club. It was a West Indian place, dark and dingy with strange music and we could get food. It was a real friendly place but we were the only white people there although we never felt threatened. We had a good time and didn’t leave the club until it closed at 8am. We asked Aitchy to drop us off at the bus station and we would catch a bus to Luton. We said our goodbyes at the station and we never ever saw Aitchy or Billy again although a few years later they returned to Edinburgh and owned a huge joinery business. They also had a couple of hotels in the Newington area of Edinburgh. Anyway, we arrived in Luton at 1pm and started to look round the area for digs. An Irish couple showed us a large room with an en suite and cooking facilities. It was ideal and it was cheaper if we rented weekly. We decided to go out for a meal and a drink and take a look at the town. We found this pub called The Black Bull which served food and it was really busy. After the meal we had a drink with a crowd of Irishmen who told us there was plenty work to be had in the town and gave us the name of the foreman on a building site. So we decided to pay a visit there on Monday morning. We made ourselves a light breakfast in the morning and dressed smartly to go and see Mr. O’Mally, the foreman on the site. After some searching we found the place and spoke to O’Mally the foreman. He explained that they were building a church and we could start as labourers and the wages were great. We asked when we could start and he said “now”. Considering we were dressed in smart clothes and winkle picker shoes it was a no-go. The foreman said we either start today or not at all. We had a quick discussion about this and decided it was too good a job to pass up so we said ok. The job that day consisted of Tony filling a barrow with concrete and me wheeling it 30 yards along planks of wood and dumping the contents in a large hole. By the end of the day we could hardly move our arms and legs and our clothes and shoes were completely destroyed. We decided to go back to the pub for something to eat and then we had a drink, a good drink! I can’t remember how we got home that night but we didn’t wake up next morning until 10 o’clock and we couldn’t move our bodies from our beds. We were young and strong but we had never done such heavy manual work before and we were now suffering for it. We eventually got out of bed as 12 noon and still struggled to move. Tony said we should chuck the job and go back into London as there was plenty work there that wasn’t so hard. I went along with the idea and we got a day’s wages from O’Mally and left for London the next day. When we arrived in London we decided to book into a hotel and get settled before looking for work. If the truth be told we were still leg weary and sore from the exertions of the building site so we spent most of the afternoon in our beds. We only got up because we were starving so we went to the local pub, had a meal, then proceeded to get drunk. We were in our beds by 10.30 that night. It was much the same the next day only we had a later night at the bar. After breakfast the next morning I said to Tony we were going to have to start looking for a job. He said he wasn’t keen on the idea anymore and thought we should go home. This fiasco was all his idea in the first place and now he wasn’t keen?! In the coming years when I wasn’t playing in a band I bought into five or six of Tony’s brilliant ideas including joining the Territorial Army and emigrating to Australia but they never materialised. I loved Tony but he always needed someone to fire the snowballs that he was making. We got a bus back to Edinburgh the next day and my Dad’s prediction was correct – 5 days. I rang my house from the phone box at the corner of the street and my Mother answered the phone. I said “hello Ma, it’s me, Robert”. She got a bit emotional and asked me where I was. I said I was phoning from Jersey and that made her worse. I told her I was only kidding and I would be in the house in five minutes with the morning papers. She couldn’t speak. She was crying when I walked through the door and I vowed I would never leave her again. And I didn’t.

Chapter 5 – Beebop and the Checkers.

I met Tony that night in our local, The Bunch of Roses and our friends Wullie Rose and Ronnie Klein were there and glad to see us. After we had a few drinks Wullie told me he was rehearsing with a band and did I fancy coming to hear them. I said that would be great and the next night he took me to a log cabin Restalrig Road where the local scouts used to have their meetings but they let Wullie’s band rehearse there once a week. I was pleasantly surprised at Wullie’s singing. He had a huge powerful voice although the band was quite average except for the rhythm guitarist who was great – and they had no drummer. It wasn’t long before I was directing traffic in the band. I got rid of the bass guitarist and brought in Ally Devlin on lead, and Kenny Robertson on bass guitar. Wullie was one of the best rock n’ roll singers I had ever heard. And the guys in the band called him Bee-bop so I named the band Bebop and the Checkers. Our first gig was a wedding in Craigentinny Castle and we only had about 12 numbers. We just kept repeating them and everyone loved us. The downside was a big fight at the end of the night and the place was wrecked. We did a lot of gigs after that; Bilston Casino, Wallyford Miners, Rosewell Miners, Portobello Town Hall, Ross Bandstand to name just a few. We started to rehearse in the mens club at Craigentinny Castle and one night a guy came in who worked beside Wullie in the brewery and said he was starting a new club for the young people in Prestonpans in East Lothian at the town hall every Saturday and he wanted us to play. We were delighted and said yes. The following Saturday night saw us on our way to Prestonpans and we really didn’t know how we were going to be received. When we arrived there were 200-300 in the hall. It was crazy. All the girls were sitting on one side of the hall and all the boys were sitting on the other side. I had put squares of black sticky vinyl on my white Olympic drum kit and had a chequered look. Printed on the front of the bass drum was Bebop and the Checkers. I gave Bebop a loan of my leather bomber jacket and with his new Sure microphone in one hand he was ready to rock. We started the intro to Little Richard’s Lucille and by the time Bebop came in with the first line of the song the crowd were on their feet. They went crazy and this spurred Bebop into a real performance. Swinging the Mike around his head, standing on top of the bass cabinet, doing the splits and throwing himself into the crowd the whole place loved him and they went wild with excitement. I was in seventh heaven. I thought this was what I wanted to do forever. Bebop was exhausted. I never ever played with a singer like Bebop again who put absolutely everything into his singing. That night we went to a late night restaurant and we felt like kings. The next week we played at the town hall there were at least 400 people there. They had to turn people away and it was the same scenario again. As soon as Bebop started to sing they got up and danced. About six weeks’ later we were on a break in the town hall when one of the locals brought a paper in. A headline on one of the pages read “Bebop voted most popular guy in Prestonpans”. There had been a competition to see who was the most popular male in Prestonpans and Bebop received the most votes. I didn’t know if this was a good or bad thing but I noticed in the weeks that followed he started to drink quite heavily. He started missing rehearsals and turning up late for gigs. It was really frustrating but I tried to keep a lid on it for the sake of the band. One week he turned up late at the town hall and his behaviour was erratic and embarrassing. He was forgetting his words and when he bounced the Sure mike off of the floor of the stage, I took it from him. “Stick yer jerkin up yer arse, Batten” he said, ripping it off his back and throwing it at me. He then kicked the band room door open and went inside. Believe it or not the crowd thought it was all part of the act and went wild. Fortunately this was the last number of the evening and we all retired to the band room. “You’re out of order big yin” Wullie said to me. “Naw, you’re fuckin’ out of order. Now get lost and don’t come back”. Bebop grabbed his coat and crashed out the door. There was silence for a good few minutes then Bruce Anderson the rhythm guitarist who became my best friend said, “what are we going to do for next week?”. We had umpteen discussions about it going home in the van and decided Kenny Robertson could sing some of the songs and a guy called Jimmy Syme would sing the rest and we rehearsed all week in the Castle club. Saturday night was quickly upon us and as usual the town hall was packed. We kicked off with Chuck Berry’s Sweet Little 16 and we were halfway through the number with not one person on the floor. It was the same all the way through the first half – not a single person on the dance floor. They just sat in silence. We had just finished the last number of the first half when the crowd started to chant “we want Bebop, we want Bebop” and kept on chanting. We decided to retire for the break to the pub across the road, and sink a few pints. “I’m not going back in there” said big Ally the lead guitarist. “Me neither” said Kenny Robertson. Just then Bruce rushed in and said that Bebop was in the hall and the crowd were going bananas. We returned to the hall and by this time the crowd were on their feet chanting “we want Bebop”. We started playing the intro to Lucille and I said into the microphone “will Bebop Rose come up on stage please”. Bebop jumped up on stage, we shook hands, the crown went mental and everyone was in a state of euphoria. I had two or three moments like this in my playing career but I think this was the best. While we were sitting in the band room three guys came in and told us they were on the Committee of the club in the town hall. They said everyone in the town loved the band and had written to STV for us to audition for an appearance on a show called “One Night Stand”. The show was on every week with four Scottish bands on the programme. They had received word that we were earmarked for an audition for the very last show and wanted to know if we would do it. We just about bit their hands off accepting the offer. There was to be four bands auditioning for the show and only one band would go through as there were already three bands going through. The audition was a fortnight away and we decided to rehearse two songs, Lucille and a Beatles song called Mr. Moonlight before we left for the audition in Glasgow. We had to do the audition at 4pm in Glasgow so we decided to have a rehearsal in the Castle club at 11am that day giving us plenty time to get through to Glasgow. It was 1.30pm and there was no show from Bebop so I had to make a decision. I said to Jimmy Syme that he would have to sing in Wullie’s place. He was halfway through the second number when Wullie appeared and he had a good drink in him. “Sorry Rab. I forgot all about it” he said. I forgot all about it. That summed it up for me and I told everyone to pack the equipment and head for Glasgow. We found the STV studios with 15 minutes to spare and got as much coffee into Bebop as was possible as we were the first band up. Mr. Blake was the musical director for STV. He sat at a big desk in the middle of the studio with two secretaries at another desk with typewriters. Mr. Blake was writing when we started the intro to Lucille. When Bebop blasted out the opening line to the song, Blake’s pen and paper was catapulted into the air. I thought the typewriters were going to slide off the desk. It was that powerful. We certainly got Blake’s attention for the two numbers. “What do you think Rab?” Wullie said. “I think it’s in the bag Wullie” I replied. The next band up was Lulu and the Luvvers would you believe and they were outstanding. A band called Tony and the Apaches were next and East West was last. They were all outstanding. I thought Lulu and the Luvvers seemed to be our closest rivals but lo and behold Tony and the Apaches got the last spot. We hardly spoke on our way back to Edinburgh. Everyone was on a downer. When we arrived back in Craigentinny I told them I thought we played brilliantly at the audition and we should have been proud that we had held our own with three such great bands considering what had went on before we left Edinburgh. I said to Bebop that he was going to have to choose between the drink and the band. He flew off the handle, telling me to stick the band up my arse, and left. Everyone was now in the depths of despair but they all agreed it had to be said. Bruce said “where do we go from here Rab?”. I said we would get another singer. Paul Cassidy’s father owned the restaurant in Portobello Outdoor Swimming Pool and was also an astute businessman. Kenny Robertson said Paul was a friend of his and not a bad singer. I told Kenny to bring him along to the next practice and we would give him a try. The music had started to change round about this time and R n’ B was taking over. The Rolling Stones had a lot to do with this as they were playing Chuck Berry, Howlin’ Wolf, John Lee Hooker, Muddy Waters, Bo Diddley, Solomon Burke to name but a few who were the flavour of the day. There was only one band in Edinburgh playing this stuff and they were called The Embers. They were becoming very popular in the town. When Paul Cassidy came for an audition with us he could sing all the rock n’ roll stuff but he excelled at the R n’ B. We gave Paul the job and renamed the band “The Checkers R n’ B”.

Chapter 6 – The Checkers R n’ B.

We had to wait another two months before we could play in Prestonpans again as the youth club had to vacate the town hall and were building a new club elsewhere in the town. And we were going to play there. We were still in the Castle club and it took a couple of weeks before the crowd warmed to Paul and the new music but they did. Through his contacts we played in a lot of different venues including Universities, art centres, colleges, ice rinks and another residency on a Saturday night at the PYC (Portobello Youth Club). This was a Liverpool-type cavern-like club packed to the gunwales with the sweat running down the walls. It was fantastic. We made enough money to buy a Bedford van and some great shirts which were red and white striped and really set the band off. The guys also had the best equipment of the day. Kenny had a Selmer Goliath Bass Combo and a Fender Percussion Bass. Ally had a Burns Vistasonic lead guitar and a Selmer Combo and Bruce had the same. There were no recording studios in Scotland of note at that time although we didn’t think about that. We just wanted to play live. One day Paul said he had a gig for us in The Top Storey Club and we would be playing with The Embers. Also, he had heard that it would be the last night they were playing together as they were splitting. I was sorry to hear this. They were a great band and they had ruled the Edinburgh scene for a while. The Top Storey Club was situated in Leith Street where the St. James Centre is now. It was an old snooker club and the stage was made out of 12 snooker tables with huge panels of wood on top of them. It was run by the Patterson brothers and they always had big time groups appearing with the Embers; Billy J. Kramer, Alexis Korner, the Merseybeats, The Big Three, Sounds Incorporated, Chris Farlowe, etc etc but none of them got the reception from the fans like the Embers did. When we arrived outside the club there was a queue right down Leith Street and the club had been open for 30 minutes. We could barely get in ourselves. We had to wait for one of the Patterson brothers to come to the entrance door. He told me the club was already full and the Embers were on stage so we were to use their equipment when they took a break. We didn’t like this idea but we could either agree to it or we weren’t getting to play. We noticed there was a good contingent from the PYC there and we saw a lot of people we knew so we had good support. When The Embers announced they were having a break they received a fantastic ovation and a lot of girls were reduced to tears. We started our set with a Solomon Burke song “Can I Get a Witness” and the crowd reacted immediately. By the third number “Off the Hook” everyone was on board. It was our best performance since Paul joined us and it was no time before we were playing our last number “Long Tall Shorty” by the Kinks. Halfway through the number the Embers started coming back to the stage. Their lead guitarist plugged his guitar in beside Ally and started playing along with him. The bass player did the same and I thought they were giving us professional courtesy. Then I noticed the other guitarist and drummer standing in the wings and they didn’t look very happy. The drummer picked up a pair of beaters and started to smash the cymbals as hard as he could. If we hadn’t been near the end of the number this would have really disrupted the band. On the last chord of the song I kicked the cymbals right off the stage and into the crowd then got up and started to walk away. The next thing I knew I was being manhandled by the bouncers and into the office. The Patterson brothers were furious and told me my band would never play there again. I told him he could stuff his club and walked out of the office. When I walked back into the hall there was a big crowd of guys standing around. They all started clapping. I asked what it was all about. It turned out the Embers had a huge following, mostly girls, and a lot of boys were jealous of them so they loved my antics on stage. The Embers never played together again. Our band was flying now and we were playing away from Edinburgh quite a lot. I was a fully-fledged cottons frame operator now so I was doing well on all fronts. Gigs in Fife, Falkirk, Galashiels and even Glasgow were enhancing our reputation then a bombshell – Paul Cassidy was packing in the band. His dad wanted him to concentrate on the business and he didn’t argue with his dad. I liked Paul. Kenny the bass player and him were good friends and we were both sorry to see him go. The band was in disarray. We decided to cancel all gigs for a fortnight. Boab Primrose and Brian Scott, two of the old gang, asked Bruce and I if we fancied going to Newcastle for the weekend. There were some great bands down there and the beer was good. We agreed and left on the Friday evening in the train. When we arrived in Newcastle we promptly got a B & B sorted out, got our best togs on and went out. Newcastle was brilliant. Great bars and clubs and in fact we saw The Animals in one of the clubs. This was the place. The girls were great as well and we had a ball. The Saturday night was even better and the Sunday was a close third. As we made our way back to the B & B we noticed a couple of girls coming down the road struggling with suitcases. Bruce and I were first off the mark and asked if they would like us to carry their cases for them and they said yes. They were a couple of beauties. They had great figures. One was blonde and the other a brunette. When we got to the station we went for coffee and started to chat. The girls were from London and like us were only in Newcastle for the weekend. I winked at Bruce and said to him as I was going into the gents, “do you fancy going to London?” when I returned the three of them were laughing and joking and to my astonishment, Bruce pulled out two train tickets to London. “Where did you get them?” I asked. “That was the last of my money and I only got them one way”, Bruce said. Jack and the Beanstalk came to mind right away. “C’mon Boab, it’ll be a laugh” Bruce said with a huge laugh on his face. Bruce Anderson was the best friend I ever had. As the train pulled out of the station Julie the blonde said “where are you going to stay boys?”. I said we weren’t sure and she said we could stay with them for a few days. They were both 23 years old and we were both 19. I had had a couple of girlfriends when I was 16 but no sex and the last couple of years I was concentrating on the band one hundred per cent. When we arrived in London we took a taxi to Shepherd’s Bush Road and they paid. We had no money at all. We arrived at a main door flat which looked kind of posh. When we went inside it was indeed posh with a beautifully finished lounge with a cocktail bar and a huge kitchen. Two massive bedrooms and a marble bathroom. Julie explained that they worked in a nightclub in Mayfair and had to go to work that night and just to help ourselves to food and drink of which there was plenty. As we were sitting drinking bottles of beer, I said to Bruce that this was the first time in six hours that I hadn’t thought about the band. After drinking a lot of beer we retired to our beds which were two double beds and we were soon fast asleep. We got up at 10.30am and had a big hangover especially Bruce who really didn’t drink that much. At about midday the girls returned and they were really tired. I asked them if they wanted a cup of tea but they only wanted to sleep. Julie handed me a £10 note and said there was a restaurant around the corner where we could get some lunch so we did just that. We had soup, T-bone steaks with all the trimmings, trifle, coffee and a couple of beers and we still had change out of the £10. We got back to the flat and the girls were still in bed. We sat listening to the radio and sinking a few more beers. At 6 o’clock the girls surfaced. They looked terrible and without the make-up they didn’t look anything like the beauties we had met in Newcastle. Janie said they were having to go to work shortly and if we wanted to come along to the nightclub that evening we could. It was called “The Negresse” and it was in Mayfair. I said we only had jeans and donkey jackets with us but she said it would be OK. They told us to come about 9 o’clock and before they left the flat she put another £10 in my hand. When we got to Mayfair that night it seemed to be a bit upmarket and when we found The Negresse we knew it was classy indeed. The front of the place was full of neon lights and there was a commissionaire on the door with the braided uniform. As we got to within a couple of feet from the door the Commissionaire said “are you members?” and I said “no”. He said we couldn’t get in then. I mentioned Janie and Julie to him and he told us to wait. Five minutes later Janie came out and took us into the club. It was an unreal place as the clientele were all older well-to-do men and the waitresses were all young girls with postage stamp sized aprons and long black tights. We sat at a table in the corner and a waitress asked us what we would like to drink. I said we would have two bottles of export. He came with the drinks and the check. It was £10 for two exports – my wages in Munrospun were not even a tenner at that time! As we sat and supped our beer we noticed that the scantily-clad waitresses were not averse to taking a pat on the bum, a feel at the crotch or a slobbery kiss from the old geezers. Bruce said he wondered what other services they performed for their customers. Julie came over with another couple of drinks and told us to forget about the bill which was a relief I can tell you! We had another three or four beers and as it was late we said we were going back to the flat. They said they would be back about 11am next morning and gave us another £10. On the walk back to the flat we started to talk about our situation and I said to Bruce that I didn’t feel comfortable with it as we didn’t know what kind of guys these girls had been with. We were also very naive about the facts of life as we were both still virgins. “I don’t know about you but I’m not losing my cherry to a prostitute” Bruce said. I agreed with him and first thing in the morning we got our things together. Just before we left a knock came to the door and when I opened it I was confronted by a big black man who started to rant and rave in my face. Bruce came to the door and between us we tried to calm him down. I asked him who he was and he told us he was Janie’s boyfriend. We left immediately leaving the guy in the flat and took a taxi to the bus station. I think the taxi driver took us on a tour of London as it took ages to get there and it was expensive. We still had the £10 at the start of the night and the £10 they gave us at the end of the night and after paying the taxi and buying two tickets for the bus to Edinburgh we decided to have a slap up meal and a few more drinks. We got on the bus and quickly fell asleep. It was a long uncomfortable journey in these days and we didn’t sleep for long. We went through a lot of different towns and stopped a few times but we stayed on the bus as it was early morning and we had arrived in Newcastle. It seemed a long time since we had left it. By this time we were starving and the bus had stopped at an all-night café. We all went in. The food smelled great but we only had enough for two slices of toast. The café was busy but I noticed an old guy sitting in the corner and there were two seats opposite him. I nudged Bruce and we both claimed the seats before anyone else could. The old guy was sitting with a big bowl of tomato soup in front of him and it was piping hot so much so that the steam from it was rising right into his face. His head was slightly bowed and he was fast asleep. I winked at Bruce who was now licking his lips and started to pull the bowl over to our side of the table. It had only moved about half an inch when a big stream of water and snot came out of his nose and landed in the soup. The next couple of minutes was like a keystone cops film. Both myself and Bruce jumped up in horror and bumped into two customers at the back of us, who in turn spilled their cups of tea on the people who were sitting at the other side of the table with them. A fight erupted in which several people were involved and the old guy got such a fright that he jumped up and his tomato soup finished up all over me! Bruce shook his head and said “that’s what you get for stealing”. We walked it home from the bus station that day. I had further to go than Bruce as he stayed in South Sloan Street with his mother and father who were lovely people. When I got home my dad answered the door and he didn’t ask me any questions but told me not to talk so loud as my mother was sleeping on the pull-down sofa in the living room and hadn’t been feeling well. About a year ago my mother, who now had a job in Munrospun was climbing a ladder and a mole she had on her leg had caught on a splinter in one of the rungs. It wouldn’t stop bleeding and eventually she went to the doctor. The doctor referred her to the hospital and they admitted her, and cut out the mole. They then grafted a piece of skin from her bottom onto it. Everything seemed fine until the day after my father and mother celebrated their Silver Wedding Anniversary (25 years) and she went back for a check up to the hospital. They told her it was a melanoma, a rattlesnake type of cancer which tended to jump all over the place and it had raced up her leg. The only chance she would have would be to have the leg amputated. This was a real bad time for the whole family. Everytime we looked at each other we broke down in floods of tears and no one knew what to do. We were in a complete state of depression. My mother was a wonderful person; she had a caring feeling for everyone she came in contact with and everyone loved her and sought her advice on various matters. My dad was a tough, bright man from the docklands of Leith with a brave heart and a smart brain. How the two of them got together I’ll never know. But it worked. 25 years together vouched for that. My mother said she had decided to have the operation She was quickly taken into Leith hospital and the leg was amputated right up to her groin and she never complained once. It was a long convalescence but at the end of it she had an artificial leg and normal service resumed – or so we thought. My dad said that mother had been a bit tired for the last two days and he thought if better to keep her in the living room for a few days,. He also told me Harry Turner had been to the house twice and I had better go over and see him. I went over right away and he read the riot act to me but said I still had my job. I was relieved. On the band scene Ally had given up playing as there was too much hassle in it and had met a girl and was getting engaged. Kenny was in the huff and not interested. I felt that my world had come to an end. When Paul first started with the band we used to practise in the restaurant his father owned and one day five guys that Paul knew walked into the place while we were practising. Paul said they were wondering if they could practise a couple of numbers using our equipment as they were doing a gig that evening. We said that would be ok and the next five minutes were an eye-opener to me. They played a blues number called “Smoke Stack Lightnin’”, an easy four chord song but it was the way they played. Charlie or Chic as he was called, was away out on a place by himself but the whole band was intense and the singer, Tam, was the best I had ever heard. I think my band was completely stunned by the sound and attitude of this band and I knew I would never forget this moment. I asked Charlie what was the band name and he said they were called “The Memphis Soul Band”. I slotted back into my working life in Munrospun and things were good. Bruce and I were going at the weekend mostly to the Palais and we were keeping late hours. I came home at 2 o’ clock one morning rather the worse for drink and my father met me in the kitchen. He asked me what time was this to come home and in such a state and to make less noise as he didn’t want me to wake my mother as she was in her bed all the time these days. My dad broke down and said my mother was not going to get better as the cancer had moved right through her body. We were both crying now. Dad said all we could do was to keep her as comfortable as possible and be constantly by her side. I was always a religious guy so I went to the church and spoke to the priest who was very comforting and I started to attend the mass again. This definitely helped me and I found my faith again. When my mother was dying she was never alone for a moment. My father, sister, uncles, aunts, neighbours, priests, doctors were always around. Everyone who knew her loved her. She was a lovely caring person who was a magnet for lost causes and everyone laid their problems on her. She was also very beautiful with red hair and was the spitting image of a famous comedienne of the day, Lucille Ball. One Friday night when my dad, my uncle Jackie, my aunt Susie, Emily McHendry and myself were in the house the doctor arrived. His name was Dr. Alexander, a serious looking man but a great GP,. He had a bible in his hand and quoted from it and I immediately warmed to him. He examined my mother and gave her an injection. I asked him what it was for. He said it was a morphine injection and it was for her pain. He then told me he didn’t think my mother would last the night. I thought to myself my mother has been suffering for six months and this is the first time she has had a morphine injection. She was an incredible person. I sat with my mother until 2am when my aunt Susie told me to go to bed. I had been sleeping for about half an hour when my aunt wakened me and told me my mother had died. I went through to the living room and said a prayer over her and tried to console my father. He never got over I losing my mother. It was the saddest of times for the family but it was a relief at the end as everyone had been walking about in a mist for the last six months. It was a huge funeral as everyone in the area was there at Mount Vernon Cemetery on the 1st of October 1964. Nothing was every the same in our family again as my mother was the anchor that kept us all together.

Chapter 7 – The Memphis Soul Band.

About a fortnight after my mother’s funeral I was sitting watching TV on a Monday night when a knock came to the door. When I opened the door there was a small guy wearing an Italian suit standing there and I thought I knew him but was not too sure. “Hi Bob” he said. (He always called me Bob). “Remember me? I play with the Memphis Soul Band”. It all came back to me in a moment. “Good to see you again, Charlie”, I said, puzzled. “Come in and have a cup of tea”. He sat down and explained that they had lost their drummer who had a drink problem and they wanted me to be their new drummer. My head was in the clouds and my blood pressure must have been through the roof but I kept my cool and asked “do you want me to have a rehearsal with you?”. He said it would be a good idea but they didn’t have anywhere to rehearse. I said I could get the men’s club in the Castle and it was arranged for the next night. I was at the club an hour before the rest of the band to set up my drums and have a wee practice myself which I never did. The band finally arrived and we started to rehearse. Most numbers they played were Georgie Fame songs and many Etta James, etc., etc., and I thought to myself that it was more blues and jazz than soul. So I voiced my opinion. I said if we were going to be a soul band we would have to do real soul numbers and be a bit more commercial as well. They argued about it for a while then asked me to suggest a few songs. I said we could have a rehearsal on Saturday afternoon at 2pm and they all agreed. There was a new café/record store in Lothian Road so I decided to pay it a visit on the Saturday morning before the rehearsal. On arrival at the shop I was greeted with a “good morning, can I help you?” from the guy behind the record counter. “Do you have any soul records?” I asked. “You’ve come to the right place” the guy replied. He had the Four Tops, the Isley Brothers, the Temptations, James Brown – you name it, he had it. “Here’s two that have just come in – In the Midnight Hour by Wilson Pickett and Down in the Valley by Solomon Burke. I listened to the first 16 bars of The Midnight Hour and I was sold. I bought six records that day and took them back to the men’s club and let the band listen to them. They were blown away too and Tam the singer was the man to sing soul. The atmosphere was electric at the end of the rehearsal and Charlie asked me what I thought. I said it was terrific but one thing was missing. He asked what it was and I said “we need a rhythm guitarist” thinking about my mate Bruce. “I’ve never played with a rhythm guitarist” Charlie said agreed to give him a try. I said we could practise every night until Sunday and we could play at the youth club on Sunday night as they didn’t have a band yet. We rehearsed on the next night after the first practice and Bruce was there. Bruce Anderson was a charismatic character, tall with jet black hair and Hank Marvin glasses. He was a good rhythm guitarist and could do harmonies as well. He quickly gave the band depth and they all accepted him readily. We rehearsed all week and had 12 soul numbers to play along with the other songs we had. Sunday night came and I told the guys to come about an hour early to set up the gear. The equipment was still quite basic then. The two guitarists had 30 watt combos and the bass player had a 50 watt amp. The PA was a hundred watt selmer amp and two Marshall PA speakers , two 12 inch speakers in each cabinet. No monitors at that time. When we arrived at the Castle Club there was about 100 people there already. We were amazed but word had got round that there was going to be a band on that night and Bruce Anderson and Bob Batten were going to be in it. We kicked off the night with an Etta James number – I Just Wanna Make Love to You and there was some applause but no dancing. We followed up with two Georgie Fame numbers – In the Meantime and Pink Champagne, with the same result. Then we hit them with In the Midnight Hour and the place erupted. We carried on with Knock on Wood, Shakin’ Fingerpop and Down in the Valley and they couldn’t get enough of it. By the end of the night they were shouting for more and although we had done it three times already we played The Midnight Hour again. “We’re a soul band now” I said to Bruce. As we were the first soul band in town we were getting a lot of bookings, youth clubs, beat clubs, marquee parties, etc. We received a blow when Stuart Whitehead announced that he was quitting playing to go into his father’s business. Stuart was a good bass player and the girls loved him. “What about Kenny Robertson?” I said to Charlie. “We can give him a try” Charlie said. “We’ll just have to throw him in at the deep end” he added. Kenny Robertson was a great bass player who could play anything and was the best musician I ever played with but he was very moody and had quite a dark side to him. He had a great musical career and played with some great bands after “The Memphis Soul”. He played a white fender precision bass and had a 100 watt Goliath bass cabinet. We definitely moved onto a different level when Kenny joined the band. In all the time I played with Charlie I couldn’t remember him complimenting a musician but he loved Kenny. A few weeks after Kenny had joined we acquired a manager. In fact two managers. Victor and Gavin were two musicians who wanted to go into management and they wanted us. Charlie said we were already getting plenty of gigs but they were ambitious and they said we would get more money with them. None of the band except Charlie thought about money. We would have played for nothing gladly but Charlie always saw the main chance. “OK “ he said, “we’ll give it a shot”. Our new managers were true to their word with some great gigs including Galashiels, Haggerston Castle, Ayton, Berwick-on-Tweed, Glasgow and a mini tour which took us up the North of Scotland and made us feel like superstars. We also had a gig at Perth Town Hall opening for The Who. I remember Perth Town Hall from my first paying job with The Dominoes but this time it was unbelievable. We arrived an hour and a half before the start time and there were hundreds already outside the building. We struggled to get in the door and had to get some doormen to get us in past the crowd. Once inside the Hall the manager of the place showed us the stage which was littered with huge speakers, amps, guitars, mikes and of course drums. It was a massive stage and ran the whole breadth of the Hall. It was also about ten feet high off the floor. Unbelievably we were destined to play on a small stage below the main one and it was about two feet high. It also had a barrier in front of it and it went right up to the stage behind. This meant that when we finished our set we couldn’t go back to the band room until the Who were finished, We started with The Midnight Hour and that got the crowd going so everyone was right in the mood. The manager then said The Who were going to be late and we would have to keep playing until they arrived. We played for nearly 3 hours that night without a break and it was a testament to the band that nobody complained when we had to keep repeating numbers. The Who finally arrived and as I said we had to remain where we were until they finished as the crowd were at least a thousand strong and completely surrounded the barrier. The Who had only one hit at that time and were kind of boring. They were playing Beach Boys stuff, Eddie Cochran, etc., etc. their party piece was at the end of the hour set they played. They would smash up their equipment and the drummer would kick his drums off the stage. Now I had recently bought a new kit of Ludwig drums, the only one in Edinburgh at the time and I realised too late what Keith Moon was about to do. It was the last action of their performance and his cheap premier drums came crashing down on my new Ludwigs. I charged the stage only to be dragged back by Charlie and Bruce and two bouncers and the crowd were going crazy. I think they thought it was all part of the act. I examined my drums and there wasn’t a mark on them. Couldn’t say the same about Keith Moon’s kit – it was in bits! The Ludwigs were definitely a different class of drum. Charlie said they were all going into the Who’s band room to take pictures and get their autographs but I said I was going to the café and I would see them later. About five minutes later the boys were all back. Charlie said that they had gone to the band room door and the Who’s manager wouldn’t let them in because he said they were too tired. “Too fucking tired?” I said. “They played for an hour and we played for three!” I exclaimed. Well, stuff The Who! We played with a lot of big named bands – the Merseybeats, the Swinging Blue Jeans, Bill J. Kramer, Chris Farlowe and the Thunderbirds, Georgie Fame to name but a few and they were all generous with their time, autographs, photographs, etc but I’m afraid The Who were bottom of the list in the social department. We had to wait another hour before the crowd was cleared from the Hall. They didn’t get anything from The Who either. We packed our gear. The van was choc-a-bloc with equipment, group and girls and we were having a great time on our way out of town. About a mile outside the town we came across about 10 or 12 guys dressed in leather bomber jackets with their thumbs out looking for a lift. Charlie stopped the van about 50 feet past them and they all started walking swiftly towards us. I told Charlie there wasn’t any more room in the ban and he just smiled. When the leather gang was about 6 feet away from the van Charlie took off giving them the middle finger. Everyone in the van was falling about and we could hardly speak for laughing. One of the girls nearly passed out. About 15 minutes later on a country road Charlie stopped the van and turned off the ignition. He said the van was overheating and he got out to investigate. Apparently the fan belt had broken and that was the problem. “We’ll all just have to sleep in the van tonight and I’ll walk into town in the morning to get one” Charlie said. It was quite warm with all the bodies and equipment in the van and we settled down for the night. We had been talking for about 20 minutes when I suddenly had a thought. “What happens if the leather gang is still on this road?” Well, the next few minutes were panic-ridden. “They’ll steal the gear. They’ll smash the van up. They’ll batter us – were just some of the statements that were being bandied about. Just then Charlie who was always laid back asked one of the girls to take her tights off. I was a bit shocked as the promiscuous society was not quite upon us at that time. Charlie explained that if we tied the tights around the fan it would act like the fan belt but he couldn’t guarantee it. I’ll give the wee man his due, he worked like a beaver to get the tights onto the fan to work . He said it would be another couple of minutes until it was finished. Bruce said “well, ye better make it a minute as the leather gang are coming down the road!” They were only yards away when Charlie got the engine running and we took off like the train in Von Ryan’s Express. We all gave them the middle finger as we drove on. Our managers then got us a booking in a new club in Edinburgh called McGoo’s in the High Street and it was on the Club’s opening night. There were four bands on that night – The T Set, the Beachcombers, us and the headlining band was The Beatstalkers from Glasgow. The club had been an old picture house, The Palace, and the dance floor was on two levels, We were the second band on that night and we went down really well. The place was jumping. At the end of the night the manager, Buddy Miller, called us into the office. He said he thought we were the best band that night and he would give us a regular monthly spot on one condition and that was that we got ourselves some decent stage clothes. He said the jeans and T shirts era was over and we had to get something that was going to look great. The following week we took a trip to Glasgow and we got some fashionable clothes. We all had flamboyant shirts and kipper ties that were fabulous, wine-coloured bell bottom trousers, black boots and black pirate type belts with huge buckles. We all got hair cuts like the college boy look and we were all set. The end of the week saw us playing at Ayton, a small town near Berwick-on-Tweed and we took a young band with us called The Accused to play at the interval. They were local lads they loved our music. We arrived about an hour before start time and as usual there were lots of people there already. By the time we were ready to play the place was heaving. All of a sudden Bruce and I got the jitters about appearing in our new stage wear but Kenny Robertson grabbed his guitar and walked onto the stage bold as brass. The crowd went mental, cheering and clapping, whistling and we forgot the nerves and went on stage. We started the first number and you couldn’t hear the music for the sound coming from the crowd. It went on until the end of the first half. The Accused went on (it was their first gig in front of an audience) and the crowd gave them a good reception too. The second half was an exciting as the first and we had to come back on and do another number as the crowd was creating havoc for us to return. At the end of the night we were singing autographs, getting photographs taken and generally acting like superstars. It was a great feeling. Anytime we played out in the countryside we got a great reception like this. The young members of the Accused were thrilled and we noticed their singer Jimmy Scott had really improved with his vocals and would be one to watch in the future. The next job Gavin and Victor lined up for us was a weekend tour of the north of Scotland. Elgin, Forres and Wick were our three destinations. They only problem was that we were all working so we would have to take the Friday and Monday off our work. Tam was the only one against it but after some persuasion from Charlie he agreed. This was probably the best time of my life; I was 20 and it was summer, I was in a great band and I thought they were all my friends too and we were going on tour like professionals – happy days! I think the venue in Elgin must have been a town hall or a meat market as it was huge. We had a B & B just round the corner from the gig so that was great. The woman who ran the B & B told us there was a lot of unemployment in the area and the only joy the kids had was once a month when there was a band playing in the town hall. While we were relaxing at the B & Bo the woman said there was a phone call for us. Charlie took it and when he came back he said that Gavin wanted us to buy some mascara and eye liner and some rouge for our faces as there were lights in the hall and it would bring up our faces better. We all had a good laugh at this but we bought the stuff anyway. We had set up our equipment in the afternoon and it was just as well as the place was packed and we were lucky to make it to the dressing room. It was a big room with five or six mirrors in it so we all had a stab at putting on the make up. Kenny Robertson was finished first. Charlie said he thought he looked like Charlie Chaplin and we were all helpless. When I told them my mascara was running, that was it. Tam had a dose of the hiccups. Bruce’s glasses were all steamed up and he was crying. Charlie was laughing that much he started to be sick. In the midst of all this bedlam one of the doormen popped his head round the door and said “you’re on in five minutes” and we all started again. When we finally walked onto the stage there was about 700 people there and the welcome was tremendous. I thought it couldn’t get any better than this. When the gig was finished there was about 40 girls waiting backstage. We were signing autographs, getting photos taken etc etc and then we returned to the dressing room. There were five gorgeous girls in the room and they all grabbed one of us. They were asking us to walk them home so we agreed. I think we all were still naïve about girls, except Charlie, who was married. In fact his wife was due to have a baby any day and he was never off the phone to her. We were all 100% into the band at that time and although we went out with girls there was nothing sexual happening with any of us except Chas. I was more of a romantic myself and that night walking this lovely girl home made me feel even more romantic. We got to her house and she pulled me into the shadows and we started kissing. We talked and kissed for about half an hour and I said I had better be getting back as I did not have a key. “Are ye no gonnae shag me?” she asked. I was gobsmacked. I had never heard a girl talk like that before. The romance of the night was completely gone. “Not tonight darlin’” I said as I started to walk down the road somewhat disappointed. When I got back to the B & B I had to throw a pebble at the window in order to get one of the boys to open the door. Tam, Bruce and Charlie were already there and they all had the same story to tell. In fact Bruce had had to run away from the girl he was with as she became quite violent when he refused her offer. I said we were going to have to be careful as far as the girls were concerned. A half an hour later another pebble hit the window. This time it was Kenny. We had never seen Kenny ever with a girl. He didn’t go out with them. He didn’t kiss them. He didn’t even talk to them. He was more into the music than I was. He shouted up to us to let him in and said that he had scored. Well, we were all dumb-struck. Nobody spoke until Kenny came through the door. Charlie said, “so you scored Kenny eh?”. “Aye” he said. “Her faither’s a baker and I’ve got pies, apple tarts, doughnuts, scones, cheese and crisps”. Well we thought that the make-up was a classic but this surpassed all of that. The woman who owned the B & B had to tell us to keep quiet as the laughter could be heard for miles. The next day we went round to the hall to pick up our gear and there was about a dozen girls waiting outside. We all just walked past them and into the hall. Five minutes later Bruce asked where Kenny was and we all went outside to try and find him. It was unbelievable. The girls were all lining up to kiss him and he was having a wonderful time. We had to pull him away as we were on a tight schedule. Elgin was certainly an eye opener for us. We moved on to Forres next. It was a nice town and we were in a hotel this time. The venue was another large hotel and the hall held about two hundred people. Again we went down well and again the girls were forward and racy. This time we all went back to our hotel and had a drink as Charlie had just found out he had become a father. We certainly wet the baby’s head that night! We left early in the morning for Wick and it was quite a long journey and most of us were still suffering from the effects of the alcohol. We arrived in Wick about 2 o’clock and found our digs. It was another nice hotel and we were definitely enjoying our Highland tour. We had some lunch and made our way to the venue were playing at that night. It was a massive hall in the middle of town. After we had set up our gear the stage lights were turned on and they were magnificent. Tam said “it’s the Charlie Chaplin make up again boys”. There were lots of different rooms in this place and one of them contained a large book with the names of bands who had played there. The Searchers, Gene Vincent, The Animals, Dave Dee, Sounds Incorporated, Tom Jones, The Shadows, Sandie Shaw, Brian Poole and the Tremeloes, The Drifters, The Dave Clark Five, etc., etc and now the Memphis Soul Band was there too. When we came out of the dressing room that night we could actually feel the atmosphere in the place. There were curtains drawn in front of the stage and it was completely in darkness except for a couple of small lights at the back of my drums, just enough for the guys to see their way to their instruments. A bouncer told us that once we had hit the first note in our opening number the curtains would open and the lights would come on automatically. We started with Eddie Floyd’s Knock on Wood and when the lights came on it was sensational and so were the crowd. There were 1200 people there that night and they were a brilliant crowd, Tam McMillan was absolutely outstanding that night. He was definitely the best band singer I had ever heard in Scotland and it’s a crying shame that he opted out of the scene earlier than he should have. The night just flew in and we were back on stage doing encores etc etc just like a professional band. A crowd of people came back to our hotel but none of them got in as the hotel had a strict security system and were used to having big named bands staying there. Anyway the five of us had another good night of drinking and laughing and we all slept well. The next morning we went back to the hall for our equipment (there were no roadies in these days) and were surprised to see 50 or 60 people there to see us off. It was a nice gesture. They were giving us addresses and phone numbers and they were all asking the same question – when would we be back? We told them very soon. In fact we never did return to the Highlands. On the way home I was sitting in the front of the van with Charlie and the rest of the guys were sleeping in the back. I said to Charlie I thought we needed a bigger PA as the one we had was struggling a bit in the bigger venues. He agreed with me but said he didn’t think Tam would go along with it but that we could discuss it during the coming week. He also told me that we had a gig that night in Edinburgh at Wilkie House Students’ Club and we would probably have to go straight there as it was going to take a while to get home. I said I didn’t have a problem with that as I lived for playing but when we told the rest of them Tam wasn’t happy. He said he needed his rest as he was working on the Tuesday morning. I said we were all working on the Tuesday morning and I started at 6am plus Wilkie House was a great venue and if we went down well the whole of the student venue scene could open up for us. It was a no brainer. Anyway Tam agreed to do it. It wasn’t an easy gig. The students were still used to R & B, Rock n Roll etc and it took a while to appreciate the soul music. We were asked to play some R & B and it was no problem, High Heeled Sneakers, Can I Get a Witness, Down the Road Apiece, Little Red Rooster, they loved it and when we stepped up to the soul stuff, SOS, Mustang Sally, Land of 1000 Dances, My girl, they were all hooked. Later the manager of the place said he would phone our managers and give us some dates. We also got dates for the Students’ Union etc etc. It was indeed a fruitful four days. I went to work on the Tuesday morning and Harry Turner tore into me. He knew I had been away up north with the band because everyone knew about it. He told me I was going to have to make up my mind what I wanted to do – play in the band or have a job. At that moment I was on the verge of telling him to stuff it but I had a lot of respect for the man, so I ate humble pie. The band had gone from strength to strength and we started to introduce a few numbers from the hit parade. Now we had the best of both worlds and we started to broaden our horizons. Repeated gigs at Haggerston Castle, McGoos, La Bamba Club and the Casablanca enhanced our reputation. Our managers then got us our first gig in a club called The Place in Victoria Street. It was owned by Brian and Paul Waldman, two brothers who were making a name for themselves on the Edinburgh club scene. They were also the managers of my cousin Toto’s band The Boston Dexters. The Dexters were quite big time as the band had made a couple of records and were the No.1 band in Edinburgh at that time. They had started to move into the more lucrative scene in Glasgow and apart from the Casablanca Club and the Place; they did not play in Edinburgh a lot. They were a fantastic band. Toto McNaughton, Tam White, Johnny Turnbull and Alan Coventry were a sensational highly talented band and were all dressed like gangsters with pin stripped suits, gangster hats, shoulder holsters, spats, the whole bit. Tam White would come on stage to the microphone with a starting pistol and it was like an explosion when he fired it. He would then say “nobody leaves until we’ve finished” in a deep gruff voice. It was fantastic. The Place was an underground series of cellars on two levels and was much like the cavern in Liverpool. It was always packed and there was always two bands on, one downstairs and one upstairs. Usually the better band played downstairs and it was normally a Glasgow outfit who fitted this bill. The night we played it was the upstairs venue for us as it was our first time there. Downstairs were a band called the Dream Police from Glasgow and the singer was a guy called Hamish Stuart who later made a name for himself with the Average White Band and also with Paul McCartney. As they started their set we were setting up our gear upstairs. I was talking to a bouncer and he said that normally after the main band finished their set most of the crowd would go into the coffee bar area and it wouldn’t be that busy where we were playing. This was a bit of a downer for me but Charlie who was always laid back said for us to play in our usual way and it would be ok. We opened our set with Shakin’ fingerpop by Junior Walker and the All-stairs and by the end of the number the top room of the Place was mobbed. By the time we played the last number Show Me by Joe Text the crowd wanted more. Our encore number was SOS by Edwin Starr and everyone was talking about The Memphis Soul Band. About half an hour later I was in the Gents and I heard my cousin Toto talking to another guy. Toto asked what the band were like that night in the Place. They guy said that they were both great especially the band upstairs. They were brilliant he said. “Better than the Dexters?” Toto asked. “Aye”, said the guy, “they were”. I was filled with pride and I couldn’t wait to tell the rest of my band about it. We played a lot in the Place after that, and indeed it led us into the Glasgow scene like the Dexters. About three weeks from my 21st birthday one of my workmates in Munrospun asked me if I would play at a rugby dance in the Palais de Dance no less. Davy Scott was a fat plausible type of guy who always had a smirk on his face and I didn’t really like him that much. He said he was on the Committee of the Portobello Rugby Club and they were having a dance in the Palais and although the Palais had an orchestra they wanted a group on the other side of the revolving stage and that would be us. Davy was a devious kind of a guy and the money he said they were paying was peanuts. I didn’t care though as this was the place I had always wanted to play and as it turned out it was my actual 21st birthday that night into the bargain. It didn’t take much to convince the boys as we all thought the same about the Palais. It was a Wednesday night the dance was being held. Everybody in the area knew about us playing in the Palais and they were all clamouring for tickets. They were like gold teeth and were only available through the Rugby Club but a lot of our fans had managed to get them. We arrived two hours before the dance was due to start and I had never seen the Palais without any people inside. It was gigantic and even the round revolving stage was huge. At the back of the stage there was a smaller stage about five feet high for the drums. It felt about 50 feet high to me. We had a run-through to check the sound and everything was echoing. The sound was bouncing all over the place. The manager of the Palais explained that when the place was crowded the dancers would absorb the sound and it would be ok. He also told us the stage had to be revolved by hand and it tended to jerk a bit when it started going round. I don’t know how many people were there that night but Davy Scott said they had sold about 600 tickets. There were a lot of our fans there and I was getting a lot of presents from them. I remember a neat travelling clock I received from Brenda and Hilda who were at all our gigs. The downside was not one of the lads said “happy birthday” to me and that hurt a bit. We were now waiting backstage on the revolving stage and we were all nervous. The guy who was going to revolve the stage said when we heard the orchestra playing Green Onions by Booker T and the MGs we would have to start playing the same number and he would revolve the stage so it would be a continuation of the same song to end their set. It worked a treat and a couple of numbers later we were playing in the Palais. When we finished Green Onions Tam said good evening to the audience and told them it was great to be there and we would be playing a mixture of music that night but a lot of soul and if there were any requests we would take them etc etc but no mention of my 21st birthday. He did mention a girl’s 18th birthday. I was peeved. However we played for a couple of hours and it just breezed past. It was fantastic. I thought I had died and gone to heaven! The orchestra in the Palais then was Tam Paton Orchestra who used to have the Edinburgh Crusaders and went on to become the manager of the Bay City Rollers. The nucleus of the orchestra was made up of members of the Crusaders. The whole orchestra was 16 strong. We were playing a number by Gene Pitney called Princess in Rags and the whole orchestra came out to hear it. At the end of the song they all applauded and so did the crowd. We were now on a real high and we finished with a Percy Sledge number, When a Man Loves a Woman. I’ll never forget my 21st birthday in the Palais even if the rest of the band did forget it! When we finished our last number the bounder told us to play out with Green Onions and he started to wind the lever that controlled the revolving stage. As we started the number the stage was rolling then abruptly stopped for a couple of seconds. When it started up again Kenny Robertson was thrown forward and off the stage onto the floor. He really did get a fright and when he got up with his bass guitar still around his neck it was to see a 16 piece orchestra on the stage! He saw the funny side of it after he dusted himself down and it was always a talking point when we reminisced about the occasion! 1966 rolled in and we were bigger than ever. The soul music was a bit less fashionable so we were adding top twenty stuff from the Rolling Stones, Mamas and Papas, Chris Farlowe, Johnny Johnston etc etc. Tam, Bruce and I were on holiday for a week and Tam suggested we drive down to London and see if we could get a record deal with EMI. It was a long trek in the old battered out J2 van with big white letters on the side, The Memphis Soul Band and it took us the best part of two days to get there. We parked not far from Trafalgar Square and Tam and Bruce went to find a hotel for the night. About three hours later they returned and said they couldn’t find one. I hit the roof. Three fucking hours they had been away and couldn’t find a hotel. I said I would be back soon, took off and found a hotel about five minutes away from the van. I had booked a room for the three of us. We parked the van and changed our clothes and went out. We found Carnaby Street which was the centre of the universe at the time and bought some clothes. I bought a pink and while striped Italian style jacket with a Beatle-type collar, a black shirt and black trousers. Bruce bought the same only his jacket was blue and white striped. Tam didn’t buy anything. I couldn’t believe it – we were in the world famous Carnaby Street and he didn’t buy anything. Tam was a strange guy. We then had something to eat and went back to the hotel. We decided to go out on the town that night so I said I was going to have 40 winks as tiredness had got the better of me. Bruce wakened me up and I was surprised to see they were already dressed and ready to go. “We’ll see you at the Bull and Bush down the street” Bruce said. “Come when you’re ready”. I thought it was odd that Bruce hadn’t wakened me up before then as we were best mates. I got freshened up, put on my new clothes and went off to find the pub. It was actually a good bit down the road but I found it and went inside. The place was empty. There wasn’t even a barman there. I was feeling a bit nervous when someone gave me a wolf whistle. I spun around but no one was there and I felt stupid. The wolf whistle sounded out twice more and there was still no one there. The last time it rang out just as I was going to turn around and the barman had come into the bar. “Are you trying to make an arse of me?” I said angrily. He started to laugh and pointed up to the corner of the room and there was a Mina bird in a cage! The barman said he could mimic anything and anyone and that’s where the wolf whistle had come from. We fell about laughing and we had a great time talking to Freddie the Mina. I had him saying “och aye the noo and The Memphis Soul rules”. It was hilarious. I said to Jack the barman that I was supposed to meet the boys here but no show. He said that they were probably in the bar as this was the lounge and it wasn’t really open until 9pm. I went through to the bar and Bruce and Tam were there and they were talking to three guys and I recognised two of them. They introduced themselves as the Merseybeats and one of the guys was Johnny Gustavson who played with the Big Three. They asked us why we came to London and we said we were looking for a record deal. They said they had already made two records and had to play in small bars in London to make ends meet and they were going back to Liverpool. They said we should go home too as the chance of getting a record deal was nil especially if we didn’t write our own songs. We left for home the next morning. We were still doing plenty of gigs and one we had been looking forward to was a fortnight in the Casablanca Club during the Edinburgh Festival. It was 14 nights playing to a capacity house every night and it was great. The Casablanca was more like a small nightclub kind of an upmarket Place and the band sound was excellent. On the Sunday of the first week Tam contracted a horrendous cold and his throat was completely wrecked. Kenny suggested we get Jimmy Scott to fill in for a week. He didn’t have the quality but he had the range and knew all of Tam’s songs. We did the gig and by the end of the week Tam’s throat was better and he returned to the band. We got a job one Sunday. It was at the Cephas Club in Stafford Street. I remembered it from the audition I had done with Stuart and Davy with the Midnight Revellers. That felt like 100 years ago. The resident band in this club was one of the older Edinburgh bands who were still doing rock n roll stuff, Fayne and the Cruisers. They were on holiday and we got the job for a week while they were away. We were still doing soul but we were also doing a lot of chart numbers and we went down really well. At the end of the evening the club Committee came through to speak to us and said they wanted us as the resident band. We accepted of course! We were sitting in the coffee bar later and I suggested we get a new PA system as the one we had was inadequate. Charlie said we could take something out of the wages from each job and it would be easy to pay up on hire purchase. Charlie and I went to the local music dealer, Pete Seaton. Pete was a fantastic guy and we bought a new Marshall 100 amp system and we were flying again. I hadn’t seen Bruce during that week and on the Saturday morning I went over to the men’s club in the Castle to have a game of snooker. Jimmy Scott and his band, the Accused, were there. We had been playing for about 30 minutes when the door opened and Bruce and Tam came in. “Hello boys”, Jimmy said. “What are you up to?” “We’re going up to Princes Street Gardens to eye up the talent” Tam said. “Is Boab going with you?” Jimmy asked. “If he wants to” said Tam. Bruce said nothing. “Dinnae bother” I said and the two of them walked away. I felt sick to my stomach, betrayed, stabbed in the back, outraged, all the emotions were going on inside me. How could Bruce act like this with me when we had been inseparable for three and a half years as the best of mates. I got him the job in the band and I couldn’t believe it. And to choose Tam as a friend over me didn’t make sense either. He was a weird guy. Anyway we played Saturday and Sunday at the Cephas with the new PA and it sounded cool. The next week we played Friday at the Gonk Club at Tollcross, Saturday at McGoos, and Sunday at the Cephas Club. I went to the Gents after the last number and Tam and Bruce had left the club and Kenny and Charlie were getting their wages from Gavin and Victor our managers. When I got mine they were somewhat short. I asked Gavin how the wages were short. He told me Tam didn’t want to pay anything towards the new PA system so the rest of us had to have more money taken from our wages as a result. Well, I hit the roof. “He’s the fuckin’ singer and he doesn’t want to pay anything towards the PA? Well that’s rich”. Kenny tried to smooth it over by saying it wouldn’t be that much more out of our wages. I said he was taking the piss and I wasn’t having it. Just to rub salt into the wound Gavin said that Tam was working next Friday and Saturday night with his job as a carpet-fitter so they were having to cancel the gigs on these two nights. I was out of control by this time. If Tam had still been in the club at that time I think he would have been leaving in an ambulance. I asked Charlie what he thought and he said he wasn’t having it either. Charlie was running a small business at this time but he never once put it before the band. He was a 100% band member just like Kenny and myself and Bruce. I had my doubts about Tam. The next Sunday at the Cephas club Charlie picked Kenny and I up at the Cephas. When we arrived they were already there and we started to unload the van. There was a queue of about 100 people outside the club all anticipating a good night. When it came to the turn of my drums coming out of the van I said “stop; leave them in the van”. Gavin asked me what was wrong and I said I wasn’t moving my gear until I found out what Tam was doing about the PA. Tam came up to me and asked me what was wrong. “It’s about you not paying anything towards the PA” I said. Tam didn’t say anything but started to rain punches into my face. I think he hit me four or five times before I gave him a left jab to the nose and knocked him on his back. I was raging by now and was just about to put the boot in when Gavin jumped in between us and said “you’re on in five minutes Boab”. It did the trick. I calmed down immediately and we took the rest of the gear inside and set it up. Our faces were covered in blood. Tam’s nose was burst and I had a fat lip and a couple of bruises. I used to sing a number with the band called Short Fat Fanny and the first 16 bars had to be whistled. This was impossible as it was coming out all over the place and everyone was listening. So I stopped and said to the crowd that they were getting everything tonight – a great fight, a great band and a great laugh and they all started clapping. After that night Tam paid his share of the equipment and although we were never pals again I think he had a bit more respect for me. But after that night Tam got weirder and weirder as time went on. There was a hot place at the West End of Edinburgh called Walkers and our managers said this was going to be the in place. They had organised an audition for us on a Wednesday night. Just two songs and the owners would pick the songs from our repertoire. We turned up on the Wednesday and of the two owners Paddy Riley and Peter Williamson, only Paddy was there with Joy the manageress. They chose two songs My Girl and Papa’s Got a Brand new Bag. After we had finished Paddy said he thought we would make a good resident band and would give us a gig a week on Friday to see if the crowd would like us. Walkers was a great venue. It was in Shandwick Place and it was beautiful. When you walked into the room there was a large bar on the left-hand side with a large standing area for about 50 people. You walked down five steps to a large room with larger booth type seats down each side and two sets down the middle. The dance floor was not huge but adequate and the stage was on two levels with the guitarists and singer on one and the drums on the top one. I was really looking forward to this gig as it was an elite crowd who went there. The drink was expensive so the riff raff didn’t frequent it. The Friday morning of the gig I had a visit from Charlie saying that Tam couldn’t play the gig at Walkers as he was working overtime that night. I was completely depressed. Charlie suggested we do the gig without him but I knew anything else but our very best wouldn’t cut it so I said no. Gavin and Victor said they were packing in as the guys who ran Walkers were gangsters and they walked away. I said to Charlie maybe we should phone the place and tell them but he said it wasn’t a good idea so we didn’t do anything. We just never turned up. I thought one of these days this is going to come back and haunt us. We carried on with gigs and it didn’t help knowing that Tam wasn’t 100% on board. One of the biggest disappointments I had with the Memphis Soul was a talent contest we entered; and the prize was a recording contract. It was in a gambling club called The Dunedin in Stockbridge. The night of the competition we were playing in McGoos so we asked Buddy Miller if we could go on first as the competition was starting at 10pm and he was agreeable. When we arrived at the Dunedin I noticed a guy with a white suit on coming up the street. It was Tam White the singer with my cousin’s band The Boston Dexters. “How’s it gaun big Rab?” he said. “What’s happenin’?” I told him about the competition and he said he was one of the judges. I was over the moon. There was an array of talent on show, a poet, an opera singer, two girls, a folk singer, an accordionist, a young band the oldest of which was 15 and us. There were four judges – two men and two women. We were last on, and the only competition was the young lads and they sounded like they were playing their number for the first time. The prize was a recording contract with Polydor not a big label at that time but this was a big chance for us. We had to do two numbers. Tam wanted to sing My Girl and 24 Hours to Tulsa and he was brilliant. We got a tremendous ovation at the end of our songs and I looked across at Tam White. He just winked. We were all in a stage of euphoria when the judges announced their decision. The young whippersnappers beat is by one point and we all came crashing back down to earth. Tam White came over to console us. He said he had given us ten out of ten but the other three thought the young band were best and the way the voting went it was one point that one it. I learned a lesson that night. I would never enter a talent competition again. The feeling you have is you lose is indescribable. We were still doing plenty of gigs although I felt the soul scene was wavering a bit and we were now playing quite a lot of different stuff as well as the soul. The Small Faces, Spencer Davis, Manfred Mann, Cliff Bennett, the Mamas and Papas, etc etc. We even did a couple of Beatles numbers. There were beat clubs opening up all over the place. The Gonk Club at Tollcross, the Hyve, The Oasis, the Greenhill, etc etc so there was always work. One Saturday afternoon at rehearsal in the Castle club Charlie announced that he had joined the Territorial Army and would have to go to camp for two weeks. I was on another downer. We had all been getting on great in the last few weeks although my close friendship with Bruce was over and he had started playing the sax as well as the guitar and we all had a boost from this. I said we would have to cancel all the gigs for two weeks but Kenny said he knew a guitarist who would sit in for Charlie. His name was Johnny Sutherland and he came from Thurso so we had a rehearsal with him and to be honest he was a great guitarist but more of a heavy rock band type of player – definitely not for us. The band had to play a lot louder and all you could really hear was his guitar. The guy later went to America and became quite popular over there at the advent of the heavy stuff. Anyway the guy played in the gigs that Charlie missed and on the last night he played before Charlie returned, the band said that they all wanted him to stay and Charlie would have to go. I was outraged. Charlie was the founder of the Memphis Soul Band. He wasn’t a brilliant guitarist but he made the band tick, was always sincere in any criticism he had about anything or anyone to do with the band and was always an inspiration to me. I gave them an ultimatum. “If Charlie goes, then I go. It’s up to you Kenny” I said. “But we want him out” said Kenny. “You little shit” I said. “I got you and Bruce the jobs in the first place”. Bruce couldn’t look me in the face. “Don’t think you’ll be rehearsing in this club any more” I said. “That’s something else I got you and you can take your gear out now”. Fifteen minutes later they were gone. It was the saddest day I had felt since my mother had died. I’ve never seen Tam McMillan again and that was 48 years ago. A few years later I went to Bruce’s dad’s funeral and as I came out of the Crematorium Bruce was shaking hands with everyone and when he saw me he grabbed my hands and kissed them. I was overcome. All the bad feeling I had for him went right out of the window and when I left the place I felt elated. I never saw Bruce again.

Chapter 8 – Killing Time.

I started to knock about with Tony again and it was a good time. He came up with another idea. He brought in a travel brochure which read “Freddy Laker Cheap Holidays to Spain”. “It’s only £25 for a fortnight Boab” he said. “We could do that nae bother”. I was excited. We had never been in a plane before never mind abroad. “We could drive down to the airport in my car” I said. I had passed my driving test a couple of weeks earlier and bought a Morris Minor 1000 car for £25 believe it or not. We went to the travel agent the next day and booked it. The guy in the office said we could only take £25 spending money s there was a restriction on currency. I asked him if that would be enough and he said we would never spend it all! We were flying from Gatwick so we got a route map from the AA and we were set. On the day we were leaving you would have thought we were going to the other end of the world. Most of the street came out to see us off. My dad gave us blankets, pillows, torches, etc etc and said “Now, are ye sure ye’ve got everything?” I said “we’re fine dad. Stop nagging”. I told him we were going up to the dry cleaners at Leith Street to collect a couple of pairs of trousers then we were heading south. Going up the street in the car I felt a great sense of freedom and all thoughts of the band scene were gone from me. We arrived at the dry cleaners and collected our trousers and as we came out I met Bruce’s mother who started to blether to me saying Bruce and his girlfriend were in Italy on holiday and she thought wedding bells might be on the cards. We talked for about 15 minutes and were just about to leave when my Dad appeared. “Are ye sure ye’ve got everything?” he asked. “Yes, Dad” I said angrily. “Well, here are your plane tickets that you left on the table”. The blood drained from my face and Tony was speechless. If we hadn’t stopped to Bruce’s mother we would have left without our plane tickets. My Dad was always looking out for me. We took the A1 down to Newcastle and just on the outskirts of the town we stopped at a hotel for a drink. While standing at the bar I heard music coming from upstairs and asked the barman what was going on. He said there was a disco upstairs and was on every Saturday night. We could go up if we wanted. We went up and through the door to the disco and to our surprise there were about 40 girls in the room and about six guys. We thought we had died and gone to heaven! Tony was always shy when in the company of girls but as soon as we sat down a girl came over and asked him for a dance, and what’s more, he got up! Another girl got me up and after that half the girls in the place danced with us. Two cracking looking girls came over and bought us a drink and we stayed with them the rest of the evening. There was nothing sexual on our minds in these days as Tony was too shy with women and I was too interested in playing in the band. In fact, most of the relationships we had with girls were just heavy petting sessions. When the disco was over we said we would take the girls home. They said they lived a couple of miles away in the country but we said we didn’t mind. A short while later we were driving along a country road with fields on either side when Linda (my date) said to stop the car. I noticed two horses in the field as I pulled up and Linda said that the horses belonged to them and could we ride a horse? Quick as a flash Tony’s Walter Mitty self took over and said I used to have a horse and Linda said I could ride the horse bare back. I thought it would be easy just sitting on the animal but Tony slapped its rump and it took off like a bat out of hell. I was hanging on for dear life when the horse took a sharp turn to the right and I fell face first into a heap of horses dung. The other three were falling about helpless but I was flaming and smelling pretty awful too. When we got to Linda’s house she sneaked me into the bathroom. I had a wash and changed my clothes. I certainly had a new outlook on life after that! We said goodbye and exchanged addresses and we were on our way again. A few miles outside the other side of Newcastle we stopped in a lay-by and settled down for the night. “It’s been a great first day Tony” I said. “It looks like the start of an exciting holiday”. The next morning it was beautiful. The sun was shining and the sky was clear. It was a long way to Gatwick but we had plenty time so we didn’t rush. There were not many motorways at that time so we took some country roads. I had brought learner plates with me so Tony did some of the driving. I had never seen Tony so happy and we had a great time all the way down to Gatwick Airport. I had a voucher to park my car in the airport so it was fairly easy to find. A guy took the car away and gave us another voucher to pick it up when we returned. We checked our cases in and went up on the roof to watch the planes arriving and taking off. We had never seen jet planes before up closer and the noise was deafening. The pair of us were terrified about getting on the plane so Tony suggested a few drinks before we boarded. The last thing I remember was the stewardess clicking on my seatbelt and the flight was painless. Three hours later I had a head like humpty dumpty and it was absolutely roasting at the airport. Fortunately there was no hassle and we picked up our bags ok and boarded the Laker bus to Lloret de Mar. We still didn’t feel all that great when the bus dropped us off halfway up a hill at a pretty dismal looking hotel called The La Palmera. We went in to the reception desk and it looked like there were only three of us in the hotel. The guy on reception said we were on the third floor and he gave us the key. We found the room quite small with two single beds and a bathroom. We dropped our cases and threw ourselves onto the beds and fell asleep. We woke in the morning to the sound of a lot of people outside. I pulled up the wooden blind and lo and behold a new world appeared before us. Swimming pool, palm trees, a couple of bars and plenty of young people, especially girls. Two girls shouted up to us to come down for a drink so off we went. Everyone was friendly. There was every nationality you could think of there – Scottish, English, Irish, French, Swedish, German, etc etc. Five minutes after sitting down with the two girls another three found us. In fact, we were the centre of attention. We were having a great time until one of the girls said “let’s go in the pool” and we all did except Tony. He made his way back to our room. I went upstairs after him and asked what was wrong. “C’mon Boab, you know I cannae swim” he said. I said that was ok and persuaded him to come downstairs to the bar for a drink. The bar was really basic and we were struggling to get some service when a guy from Manchester asked us what we wanted. He got served immediately. “You have to bribe the waiters” he said. “Pick one and give him 100 pesetas and you’ll never have to queue again” he added. We put in 50 pesetas each and I grabbed a waiter and with a little sign language got him to understand the plan. The waiter took the 100 pesetas with thanks and went out of the bar into the garden and we never saw him again for the remainder of the holiday! We didn’t even see the guy from Manchester again! That was our first mistake but not our last. The first night out in Lloret de Mar we both had on white suits. Italian bum freezers as they were called. The first place we hit was a bodega and the sign outside said “drink as much as you can all night for 60 pesetas”. “That’ll do for us” Tony said. I couldn’t have agreed more. We entered the bodega and it was a cellar type of place. There were about 50 high barrels in the place with taps on them. There was no vodka, beer or whisky – just wine. I said, “when in Spain…..” and we started filling our glasses. We lasted for about half an hour and we had to get out for air as we were absolutely plastered. We stumbled along the road and we came to an ordinary bar. Tony said “c’mon Boab, let’s have a real drink” and I think I nodded my head – or at least I think it was my head! We got two bottles of the local beer, San Miguel and two vodka and cokes. It was even cheaper than the bodega place. We were sitting on tall stools at the bar and had just finished our vodkas. I reached out to pick up my bottle of beer when my stool started to give way. I tried to grab the bar but I only managed to knock all the drink (which was plenty) halfway along the bar over Tony and another two guys. I then passed out! When I awoke the next morning the room smelled like a brewery. Our suits were all stained with alcohol, I couldn’t find one of my shoes and Tony had been sick. Tony was a muscular bloke. He had blond hair, a great tan and a hairy chest. The problem that morning was the hairy chest. He had fallen asleep lying on his back and had been sick all over his hairy chest. I didn’t know what to do and when someone knocked at the door I panicked. I touched Tony on the shoulder and shouted “Tony, there’s someone at the door”. Tony immediately turned sideways and the contents of his chest finished up on the tile floor. There was another knock at the door so I answered it and it was the maid to make the beds and tidy the room. I told her to come back later and wakened Tony again. He didn’t believe it was him who was sick all over the floor and blamed me saying I had caused havoc the night before. Anyway we both agreed not to go to a bodega again. We didn’t realise the heat that came from the sun in Spain. We really didn’t have the right kind of clothes and it took us three or four days to get into the way of things in Spain. I thought it was wonderful, beautiful weather, beautiful girls, very romantic atmosphere, a very cheap place at that time. I started to get an interest in girls, romantically I have to say, not sexually. I was sitting by the swimming pool with a girl from London when all the young people started running towards the pool bar. We both went in to see what was happening and it was top of the pops on the television and the number one record was playing – A Whiter Shade of Pale by Procol Harum and I got kind of emotional thinking about the band scene. I retreated to a corner of the bar and proceeded to get drunk. It was still in my blood. By the end of the first week Tony had been going to the beach all day by himself and having a drink until 9pm then going to his bed. It was boring. On the Sunday night of the first week there was a pool party at the hotel and I said to Tony that we should go but he just said “naw” and lay down on his bed. At about 10pm the noise, music, lights and laughter coming from the poolside was too much for me and I ventured down. I sat beside a couple of lads from Newcastle and we had a few drinks. At about 11pm three good looking girls walked into the dance, made their way to the bar and sat on three stools. The girls were all blonde and had “class” written all over them. There was a steady stream of guys asking them to dance but the girls refused them all. Even the two guys I was sitting with got a knock back. The music was great and I had a yearning to dance so I made my way over to them at the bar. They were all stunners but I picked who I thought was the best looking of the three. “Would you like to dance?” I asked the middle girl. She looked at the other two and they both nodded. We made our way onto the dance floor just as the guy was playing Little Richard’s Tutti Frutti. I asked her if she could jive and she said she could. Well, for the next three minutes we gave it hell and when we finished everyone at the pool started to applaud. We had to sit down after that and have a drink and I asked her why they had not been getting up to dance when the guys were asking. She told me they were all engaged and had vowed not to get involved with any guys when they were on holiday. She said the other two had given her the thumbs up when I asked her to dance. I enjoyed the evening very much that I asked her out the next night and she said yes. The next morning I was awakened by Tony getting ready to hit the beach. As he was making for the door I told him I wouldn’t see him at dinner that night as I was taking Paula out. He just grunted something and went on his merry way. I took Paula to a nightclub that night and it was a disaster. We were sitting at a table with an older couple from Glasgow and the wife wouldn’t stop talking and the husband wouldn’t stop drinking. Near the end of the evening Paula said that she couldn’t understand one word the woman said and quite honestly, neither could I. It broke the ice a bit and we both couldn’t stop laughing. It was even more hilarious when a hypnotist had six people on the stage and said “when I click my fingers you will fall fast asleep” and the Glaswegian husband fell off his chair out for the count. We had to leave at that point as we were in danger of doing ourselves an injury. It was that funny. When we got back to the hotel I ordered a couple of drinks and we sat on the patio. Guantanamera was playing and it was a lovely warm night. She was kissing me and I thought it had to be the most romantic place in the world! Paula told me they had one more day before they had to go back home but she never once mentioned her fiancé. She also said she would have to go out with her mates on the last night but would say goodbye to me before they left. I settled for a good romance in those days and this had been a good one. I went back to my room and as usual Tony was fast asleep. I got into bed and went out like a light myself. The next morning Tony was up first and I suggested we do something together that day. “Well come down to the beach” he said. I wasn’t really one for lying in the sun as I had red hair and a light complexion and I burned really easily. We arrived at the beach and the heat was unbearable, so much so that you couldn’t walk on the pebbles or sand as your feet were getting burnt. I had a captain’s hat on, sunglasses, a towel from the top of my nose to my chest, a long sleeved shirt on, another towel from the bottom of my shirt to my ankles and my sand shoes on. I lay there motionless and quickly fell asleep. I awoke about two hours later and I thought I had died and gone to hell. My head was sore and I felt sick. Every bone in my body was aching and the sun had gotten to my ankles – aye – the only bits that weren’t covered! There were two puce coloured circles round my ankles and they were causing me agony. I had to go to the doctor and Tony thought this was hilarious. I stayed in my room most of the afternoon plastering cream on my ankles and I was feeling pretty miserable when Tony came back from dinner. “I thought I would have heard from Paula” I said to Tony. “You’ll no hear from her again” he answered with a snigger. Just then the phone rang and Tony answered it. “It’s for you” he said. I took the phone and it was Paula. “I thought you were going out with the girls tonight?” I asked her. “No, I wanted to see you. Will you come up to my room for a drink?” she said. “That will be great. I’ll see you in about 20 minutes” I said. I told Tony what was happening and he just grunted something so I went on my way. When I got to Paula’s room she had a drink all ready for me and she had some music playing and it was quite romantic. We started to pet and kiss and it wasn’t long before I realised she wanted to take it further. Maybe I felt guilty about her being engaged, I don’t know, but it felt a bit sleazy or maybe I was a bit scared. Anyway, it didn’t feel right and I stopped it. She was ok with that and we spent about an hour talking and saying our goodbyes. I was nearly 22 by this time and maybe I should have been sowing my wild oats by this time but the permissive society was still in its infancy and playing in the band had been my focus since I was 16. But it was food for thought. When I got back to the room Tony was lying on his bed smoking. “how did you get on?” he asked. “She was a nymph” I said. “She couldnae get enough of me”. “Aye right” Tony said. He was older than me and I don’t think he had ever taken a girl out. “Please yersel” I said and got into my bed. Tony continued with his daily routine – going to the beach as soon as he got up in the morning and staying in the room after dinner. I did my own thing and went to the dancing, had myself one or two dates and just made the best of it. It finally came to the last day of the holiday and after breakfast I decided to go to the beach with Tony as I had no money left. We lay on air beds for about three hours and I became very thirsty. You couldn’t just go into the bar and ask for a drink of water as they would charge you for it. Finally I said to Tony “have you got any money left?” he said he did but it was a Scottish fiver and he didn’t think the Cambio would take it. I said I would try and get it changed and he handed it over. Tony was right about the Scottish fiver. I have must tried about a dozen places and got a knock back. The last place I tried there were four Scottish guys behind me and one of them was listening to my plight and said “I’ll give you 800 pesetas for your fiver”. The rate was 1,000 pesetas for a fiver at the time but I took the deal anyway as my tongue was hanging out to dry. Tony wasn’t too happy about the deal but he was thirsty too so he bought bottles of water and packets of crisps for the two of us. I swear I wouldn’t have lasted another half an hour if I hadn’t had that drink. I returned to the hotel and promptly went to my bed. The sun had made me feel pretty weak and I think perhaps I also had a bit of sunstroke. It was about 8pm when Tony woke me up. He had already been for his dinner in the hotel and pointed out to me that as we were leaving for the airport at 6am in the morning it might be a good idea for me to go down for dinner as there would be no breakfast next day. This I did but could only really keep down a bowl of soup and a cup of coffee. The next morning I still didn’t feel right but we got on the bus to the airport. By the time the plane landed at Gatwick I was feeling better and we collected the car from the parking area. Off we went on the long journey home. We got halfway home when the car started to slow down and there was a knocking sound coming from the engine. We pulled into a garage off the main road and the mechanic said it was the big ends of the engine, not a huge job on my kind of car but we couldn’t afford the repair. The guy said he could sell us a tin of special oil which would allow us to get home but we couldn’t go any faster than 25 miles an hour and it would cost us £1. I didn’t have any British money left but Tony said he had £1.5/-. He was a bit reluctant to give the guy the £1 until I said I would give it to him when we got home. He gave the guy the £1. It was a long, slow, silent journey home and Tony never spoke to me unless I started the conversation so I gave up and we travelled in silence. We reached Berwick on Tweed and it was dark by this time and I was starving. We were passing a fish and chip shop and I said “how about buying a couple of bags of chips for us Tony?”. He said “Och, it’s no that long since ye had something to eat”. I thought to myself that it was at least over 24 hours since I had anything and that was only a bowl of soup and a cup of coffee. Fuck this. I slammed on the breaks and the car shuddered to a halt. “Here’s the deal Tony” I said. “You buy the fucking chips or you walk home. Ok? “And ye’ll get the money back when we get home. Make your mind up now”. Tony didn’t say anything but got out of the car and went to the chip shop. He came back with the chips and I swear they were the best chips I had ever tasted in my life! Tony never said another word on the way home and the day after I borrowed £1.5/- from my Dad and went round to Tony’s. I knocked at the door and when he answered I handed the money over and turned and walked away. I said to myself that that was it finished with him. No more friendship. No more holidays. Tony was a hard guy to be a friend to. He was always a shy guy especially with women. I was his best friend for life but he was never truly my best friend. He will be in this story from time to time and I will try to tell it like it was. I loved Tony McEwan like a brother.

Chapter 9 – Sidney Boucher.

A couple of days after I returned home I received a letter from Linda whom I had met on our way down to Gatwick. I had sent her a postcard from Spain and put my address on it. I told her we would come down the next again week and we would meet them in the disco just outside Newcastle. I had sold my car as it was on its last legs so I asked this guy who lived down the street from me if he fancied going with me and he could perhaps get his dad’s car. Sidney Boucher was about five years younger than me and his dad was a good friend of my dad. He was a fun loving lad and we got on well together. His father had a Triumph Vetesse car quite a sporty wee job and could hit the ninety mile an hour mark at a push. I had told Sid about the disco and the girls and when we left that night he was all excited. He couldn’t believe it when we entered the disco and saw the lack of guys. “This is magic big Rab” he said and he was soon being swamped by girls. Linda and her pal Carol soon arrived and Sid and Carol got on like a house on fire. It was a brilliant night and at about a 12.30am Linda said that we could both stay at her parents’ house that night which meant we wouldn’t have the long journey home. Linda’s folks were really nice people and made us tea and biscuits then went to their bed. Later on we all started petting and kissing and I put the light out. About 20 minutes later there was a sound coming from Sid’s side of the room. I said to Linda we had better put the light on as Sid was a bit young for Carol and he might be a bit embarrassed. I switched on the light only to find Sid with his trousers at his feet and Carol’s clothes in a state of disarray. It was pandemonium. The two of them didn’t know what to do. Sid was running back and forth trying to get his trousers up and Carol’s face was beetroot coloured. We all started laughing and couldn’t stop. It was lucky for us that they both had their clothes back on as Carol’s mother appeared complaining about the noise we were making and we were promptly shunted off to bed. Even when we were in our own 2 and 2 separate rooms, we were still in stitches! We went down to Newcastle every week for the next month and it was great. There was no sex involved but now we were thinking about it! Sid worked in Munrospun beside me and one day he came up with an idea. “My dad’s got a caravan” he said. “Why don’t we take the girls down to Blackpool for the weekend?”. I thought this was a great idea. I phoned and asked Linda and she said yes. We were planning it for a fortnight’s time. We missed going to Newcastle the week before the planned Blackpool weekend and the week leading up to it was exciting to say the least. We were buying provisions for the caravan and we had enough food to last us a month! It was a two berth caravan and the Triumph Vitesse had a towball on it and could pull it easy. So we were all set. On the Thursday morning I received a letter from Linda saying that they wouldn’t be coming to Blackpool after all. She said they enjoyed the relationship they had with us but they were afraid to take it a step further as it had been going too fast and they weren’t ready for that yet. She also said they had decided not to see us again so this was goodbye. It was a real disappointment. I wasn’t worried about the sex but I liked Linda and we always had a good time when we met up. But I think she was probably right because we were “thinking about it” and it had started to dominate everything. Sidney was suicidal when I told him. “What are we going to do with all the food” he asked, with an imaginary gun at his head. “We’ll still go” I said “but just on our own. “Ya beauty Rab” Sid said. “Yer right pal, there’s plenty fish in the sea”. We left Edinburgh on the Friday at 6pm. It was flower power time so we had flowers and bells all over us. We decided we would stop at the disco in Newcastle on the way down to Blackpool and have a couple of drinks. When we got there the place was packed as usual and everybody was coming over to speak to us, asking us where we were going etc. I spoke to one of Linda’s mates and she said that Linda and Carol were not coming back to the disco again so we had another couple of drinks. We started to dance with a few girls and all of a sudden the gloom had risen from us. We decided to give a couple of girls a lift home who lived on the other side of Newcastle as it was on our way down south. We had a great laugh with them and Sid decided that we would stop in a layby. We had a cup of tea and we did a bit of kissing and cuddling. It was obvious the girls were up for a bit more than that, and at that time I thought it was tasteless and I think Sid was a wee bit apprehensive as he was still quite young. Anyway, we dropped the girls off at their house, found another layby and settled down for the night. We slept until 9am the next morning, had breakfast then got on the road for Blackpool. About two miles along the road we picked up two girl hitchhikers and it turned out they were going to Blackpool too. We had great fun with them on the road. There was no hanky-panky, nothing, just four people on the same wavelength having a great time. When we dropped them off in Blackpool on our way to the caravan site Sid said we should have asked them to stay with us and I agreed, but it was by this time too late. Our first night in Blackpool I wore a track suit top, blue jeans and sneakers, flowers in my hair and bells round my neck and Sid wore the same. We went into this massive pub. It was like being in the Palais. Everyone was having a great time and after a few drinks so were we. I noticed there was a gogo dancer in a cage about 20 feet above the dance floor and every 20 minutes or so the dancer was replaced by another. The next time the cage came down and one girl got out just as another one got in, I got in with her and everybody cheered and clapped. Sid shouted “that’s my big mate up there” but the bouncers were not happy and started to bring the cage down. The dancer gave me a kiss before I got out and that brought more cheers from the crowd. The boos and catcalls came as we were being thrown out of the premises. Sid and I had a lot of great times away from the band scene but the weekend in Blackpool must rank along with the best. On the way back we picked up another two girl hitchhikers who were going to Newcastle and they were also great fun. We were coming along a country road when we came to a small bridge. There must have been 150 sheep on both sides of the bridge and no shepherd in sight. The sheep were not about to move and Sid was starting to get worried. I put my hand in my pocket and pulled out a penny banger, lit it and threw it into the middle of the bridge. The next five minutes were unbelievable. Sheep were flying past the window, on the bonnet of the car, crashing into the caravan! Sid was in a state of sheer panic and with sheep scattered all over the place we fled the scene. Everyone then saw the funny side of it and after that when anyone mentioned “sheep” we were all of us in a state of collapse. We dropped the girls in Newcastle and made our way back to Edinburgh to round off an excellent weekend. The next weekend we decided to go to Bonnyrigg Regal. This was a picture house just outside Edinburgh which doubled up as a cinema and a dance hall. They also had hit recording artists there every week and this particular week they had the Foundations booked who were at No.1 with Baby Now That I’ve Found You. When we arrived one of the local bands was on stage and there were about 100 girls at the front of the stage screaming for the singer who had long curly black hair and a real rugged look. It took me by surprise that they were getting such a reception. When they finished their set all the girls were shouting for more and although I didn’t think they were that good musically, the singer’s looks took the biscuit. There was still around 50 girls hanging round this other guy when the Foundations started and I think they were a bit perturbed when they were not getting the audience’s full attention. I asked one of the girls what the singer’s name was and she said “Rab Hughes, he’s gorgeous eh?!” I thought I would remember this guy. A couple of weeks later we decided to go to the disco in Newcastle again so Sid borrowed his dad’s car. We decided to take a bottle of vodka and a bottle of whisky with us as it was inevitable we would get a couple of birds. When we walked into the disco all the girls knew us and it was easy to pair off with a couple of them. When the disco finished we decided to go for a drive in the country with the two girls and stopped off for a wee drink. We were flying along this country lane about 70 miles an hour. We were in the front and the girls were in the back and I was just about to tell Sid to slow down when all of a sudden we came to a main road without any warning. We were going so fast that we couldn’t stop and we went right across the road and through a fence into a marshy field. Nobody said anything for about five minutes and it was completely pitch black outside. Sid got out to inspect the car, looked at the front of it and started to cry. I calmed him down, made sure that everyone was ok and told the girls to go home. I threw the drink away and had a look at the car myself. The whole front was bashed in and it was a miracle no one was hurt. We knocked on the door of a house up on the main road and the man called the police who didn’t take long to appear on the scene. We didn’t realise how lucky we were as the policeman told us there had already been four deaths at that same spot. He said if we had not crashed through the gate of the fence we would have been dead as the fence itself was made of solid logs. We went back to the police station and the officers let us make a phone call to our dads. When I told my dad what had happened the first thing he said was “as long as you are both ok, that’s all that matters”. Sidney phoned his dad and told him we had had an accident and the first thing he said was “is the car ok?” Sid said it looked as if it would be a write-off and his father hung up the phone. We stayed at the police station that night and got a bus back to Edinburgh in the morning. There was more bad news for Sid. The insurance company that Sid was with had gone bankrupt within the last couple of days and therefore the car was not covered. It was a nightmare. I didn’t see much of Sid after that and never went back to the Newcastle disco but it was a good time in my life. Sidney Boucher was a friend who never let me down, was fun to be with and he arrived when there was a big void in my life. I loved Sid.

Chapter 10 – Viva Espagna.

There had been a lot of changes in life at the factory. There was new machines, new wage structures and new employers. They had finished with the idea of having to be related to someone who worked there in order to get a job in the place. The frame operators were changing too We had Irish, English and Welsh people working there and I became friendly with a local lad called Roy McLean who could be quite surly at times but he called a spade a spade and I liked him. We were talking at the break one day and he was talking about holidays in Spain. He had been there at the same time as Tony and I but in a different resort and he liked it. I said that I did too apart from the carry on with Tony. One night after work Roy and I were having a drink in my local pub The Bunch of Roses when Tony came in. he came over and bought us a drink and Roy starting talking about Spain. To my surprise Tony started to agree with Roy and said it was a really good place and how he had enjoyed his time in Lloret de Mar. You could have knocked me down with a feather. One drink led to another and the next thing we knew, we were all going to Spain for our holidays. Roy organised everything and we were going to Malgrat de Mar, one of the lesser known resorts on the Costa Brava, for two weeks. We were flying from London again, and we were going to stay with Roy’s sister for one night as we were leaving early next morning. The day after I had agreed to the holiday I was already having doubts. Tony was shy with the girls and Roy wasn’t really a woman’s man either so I feared the worst. The time came for our holiday and we took the train to London. Norma, Roy’s sister lived in Balham in a flat so there wasn’t a lot of room. After dropping our cases off we took a trip to Soho and it was an eye-opener. We decided to go to a strip joint for a laugh. “How much is it?” I asked the guy at the door. “Two bob” was his reply. We agreed and paid our money and went through the door. There was a small flight of stairs to go down and we came to a small landing. There was a buy at a desk who said it would cost us another two shillings to go downstairs, so we paid. This happened another three times and the last time we were asked for money Roy said “fuck that, we want our money back”. The guy at the last desk knew we meant business and said we could go in without paying him but by this time we had already paid eight shillings anyway! It was a dingy room and it was packed but there was an eerie silence about the whole place. The music started and the first girl came out. She couldn’t dance to save herself although in retrospect, I suppose the clientele who frequented these places weren’t looking for Ginger Rogers and I don’t think anyone would be complaining as she was starkers. I’ll be honest. I don’t think any of the three of us had seen a girl completely naked before. There was a steady stream of girls coming onto the stage and we had been there for a couple of shows when I found myself falling asleep. I had to drag Roy and Tony out of the place and they weren’t too happy but by that time they certainly knew what the female form looked like naked. When we got back to Norma’s flat she made us something to eat and we had a few drinks. Norma’s pal was there too so it was a wee bit of a party with the five of us. We suddenly ran out of booze so Tony and I went down to the local pub for a carry out. When we got there it was having with people and we couldn’t get near the bar. Everytime we tried to get the barman’s attention he just completely ignored us so I shouted “for fuck sake, is anybody going to serve me?” The whole place fell silent and Tony whispered to me “Boab, we’re the only two white people in the bar”. “What can I get you?” the barman asked. “A dozen cans of beer and a bottle of vodka” I replied. “Where do you come from?” he asked. “Scotland” I replied and the next thing I knew people wanted to buy us drinks. Most of the people in the pub were Jamaicans and were really friendly. They all said they loved Scottish people and we had to drag ourselves away. Back at the flat we partied till early morning and when I woke in the morning the flat smelled like a brewery. After a few aspirins and askit powders we left for the airport and were soon on our way to Spain. Roy was coming back from the toilet on the plane when he stopped to speak to three girls who were sitting behind us. When he sat down they sent us up a drink and I asked Roy if he knew them. He said he had been speaking to them in the departure lounge and they were Londoners. It turned out they were going to the same hotel as us and I thought then that things were finally looking up! When we reached our destination Malgrat de Mar, our hotel The Papi seemed to be the only one there and it looked like everyone on the plane was staying there! It was a nice clean hotel and the staff were great. It was about a mile from the town but that was nothing to us as we were young and fit. It was about 8 o’clock when we arrived and they were having a dance on the patio so we just dropped our cases and sat down and ordered drinks. We were only there five minutes when a waiter came across and told Tony that one of the girls would like to dance with him. We looked over to see her and she was blonde and beautiful. I told Tony to get over there but he panicked and said no. Tony looked the part. He was blonde, muscular and had a great tan but suffered from a huge inferiority complex. I looked over at the girl and noticed that she was with a friend who looked like a cross between a horse and a giraffe. I said to Tony that we should get them up to dance as this was a first for Tony – a girl fancying him! We had two dances with them and they invited us to sit at their table. They told us they were going to a dance hall in Lloret de Mar and would we like to go with them and also, they had a car! I talked Tony into going as I thought it would be good for him although not for me as I was going to be stuck with Trigger the Giraffe! We waved goodbye to poor Roy leaving him on his own without any money as it turned out he had not changed any of his money and it was too late to do it in the hotel. Tony and I and the two girls jumped into the car and took off for Lloret. It was a longer journey than I thought and on the way we were stopped by the police who were armed. They searched us and told us to move on. I think that took the wind out of Tony’s sails as he never uttered a word for the rest of the journey. When we got to the dance hall in Lloret it was a bit of a dive with some funny looking dagos lurking around. The girls said they were just going to the ladies and would be back shortly. As soon as they were out of sight Tony said he wanted to go back to Malgrat. I said we had just arrived but on second thoughts I agreed with him. We were lucky to get the last train and it would get us back at 12.30am. When we arrived at the hotel the place was in darkness so we went straight to our room. Roy was sound asleep so we just crawled into our beds and did the same. The next morning the hotel was a hive of activity. We went down to the dining hall for breakfast and everyone was there. We had just sat down when Roy got up and went over to talk to the three London girls who had been sitting behind us on the plane. I thought that I had made a mistake about Roy being surly and unsociable and when he came back and said we had a date with the three of them that night I thought was going to be ok after all. Tony took a bit of convincing about the date but when we said we were going to a nightclub he agreed. We had a couple of drinks in the hotel first and then made our way to the nightclub. I was in front with Moira a good looking blonde from Earls court and when we got near the door of the nightclub I said we would each pay our partners into the club. “Naw, naw” said Roy in a loud voice. “We’re all on holiday here. They pay themselves in”. Well, it was embarrassing to say the least. “Well, I’m paying my girl in ya miserable git” I said in a loud voice. Roy certainly knew how to talk to women but he didn’t know how to treat them. Anyway we had a great night and when we got back to the hotel I suggested going to the bar for a drink before we retired to our rooms. As we were entering the bar Moira, my date said “let’s go up to your room Robert”. I said ok and I thought to myself, I’m 22 now so maybe this is it. We both took our clothes off and got into bed and we started to kiss each other. I could feel Moira shaking and I asked her why. “Well, I’m a virgin and you’re not” she cried out loud. Just as I was trying to console her the door opened and Tony and Roy came in. “Awe naw” said Roy. “This is no happenin’ here”. I told him not to be stupid and to turn out the light as Moira was freaking out. He said if we didn’t get up he was going for the manager then Tony and him walked out. Moira and I got dressed and sat on the end of the bed and talked. Tony rushed up and said Roy was on his way up with the manager so we’d better get out quick. Moira said there was a door on the landing next to the lifts which led to the balcony where her room was and we could go there. We had just left when the lift doors opened and Roy was there with the manager. I was flaming. I couldn’t believe he had done that. I was going to have to have a talk with him in the morning. I said to Moira that I would rather we went down to the bar for a drink. She turned out to be a really nice girl. She said she was under pressure to lose her virginity by the other two girls but was really scared and was sorry about what had happened. I told her the truth that I was a virgin also and I didn’t think anyone should be pressured into doing that. We had a really great night after that and in fact we were an item for the fortnight. We did a lot of kissing and petting at the pool and everyone thought we were going at it like rabbits but we never did and I believe that if we had done the deed, the relationship wouldn’t have been the same. We had a gang now. There were the three London girls, three girls from Glasgow and two Liverpool guys. It was a great team and we were the kings and queens of the Papi hotel. One morning I was playing table tennis with Tony and we were going hard at it. Tony was a good defensive player and I was the Edinburgh boys club individual champion so we were putting on a show. One of the popular young waiters named Tino was passing the table and took notice. He was the Don Juan of the hotel, absolutely loved himself and the girls did too. “I play you the best of three for 500 hundred pesetas Senor” he said. Now five hundred pesetas was a lot of money to these guys as they didn’t get paid much. I said no as I didn’t want to take money from him. “You are too afraid to play Tino?” he asked, strutting around like a peacock. “I have been the champion of this hotel for five years” he boasted. All the girls started chanting “Tino, Tino, Tino”. Tony said “stick it right up this guy Boab. He’s taking the piss”. I agreed to play him and the match was set for 12 noon the following day. The whole place was talking about the match and a guy from Manchester was running a book. Tino was even money and I was 3 to one. There was some serious money being wagered by the holidaymakers. On the day of the match I had my t shirt, jeans and flip flops on. Tino had a yellow t shirt with Tino the Champ in big red letters on the back, tight shorts like cycling shorts, head band, wrist bands, ray ban type sunglasses and sports shoes. He also had a state of the art sponge table tennis bat. There wasn’t even rubber on my bat. Just the bare board. The only supporters I had was the gang. Tony said he felt tired and went up to his bed. I decided not to show off and played a ping pong type of game for the first rubber. It was the wrong tactic and I lost the first game 21:19. The second game I got into my stride with my forehand and won 21:12. The deciding game I did show off, all my skills came back and I destroyed him. 21:6 with my backhand. Well Tino should have got an Oscar for acting, between the tears and the girls mopping his brow and his imaginary broken leg. Then he came over to present me with his champion’s t-shirt which I declined as I was 6ft 2in and he was about 5ft 6in if that. He took me aside and said “Roberto, how about I give you a bottle of champagne instead of the cash”. I knew he couldn’t afford to lose that kind of money so I said ok and he was visually relieved. Bear in mind that a bottle of champagne cost about 35 pesetas in Spain. After that, any time I ordered a drink from the bar and Tino served me he never charged for it. Another time in the hotel one of the Liverpool lads told me they were having a challenge football match, England v. Spain. Holidaymakers v. Spanish waiters and the English team were short of two men. The Liverpool lad John said he would play so I said I would too. The match was scheduled for 5pm in the afternoon when the sun was still very hot. We were all at the beach playing football from 12-4pm and when we were walking back to the hotel Tony was giving me all the doom and gloom. He said I shouldn’t play as I had been in the sun too long already and I would be dehydrated. I could have a stroke or even a heart attack, etc., etc. When we got back to the hotel we went round to have a look at the pitch. It was behind the hotel. It was a dirt pitch, quite hard and there were about a hundred spectators there. The Spanish team were all bare footed and the English team were mainly made up from Geordies and all had boots on except John and me. An old fat Spanish man was the referee. There was no score at the end of the first half and it was hilarious. Waiters were serving our team with Bacardi and cokes, brandy, whisky, vodka, beer – you name it, they were drinking it. I think most of the team were half pissed before they went back on. The second half was only ten minutes old before the Spanish guys went ahead. A horrendous late tackle by one of the Geordies gave the home team a penalty. It was going from bad to worse as my team were becoming more brutal and we had a man sent off. Then minutes to go and I got myself up field as our keeper took a goal kick. It was a lovely kick and it went over the centre half’s head the advancing keeper came out I lobbed it over his head and into the net. The holidaymakers went crazy. Two or three of them ran onto the centre of the pitch and dropped their trousers. What’s all that about I was thinking? It must be some sort of English custom. Roy shouted to me that there were three minutes to go and everybody was trying hard now. A minute later we got a throw in about five yards from the by-line. I moved into the penalty area and the big Spanish centre half went with me. The ball came in and we both went for it. Our heads and bodies clashed and crashed to the ground. When I was getting up I was surrounded by the team and supporters “great goal” they were all saying. The ball had come off my head and finished up in the net and I knew nothing about it! It should have been the end of the match there but the Spanish ref played another ten minutes extra and the English team were not happy about it. Everyone was patting me on the back when I came off and Roy was shaking my hand. “Where’s Tony?” I asked. “He went up to his room before the kick-off” said Roy. That was just typical of Tony. I noticed when I came off the field that day that the Spanish team’s feet were all cut and bleeding. They really took a battering but were all magnanimous in defeat. That night in the hotel everyone was celebrating. I didn’t have to buy a drink all night. One of the Geordies came over to me and shook my hand and gave me a five hundred peseta note. I asked him what that was for. He said he thought I knew we were playing the waiters for five hundred pesetas and we were going to give them a return match. I told him to count me out as I knew the Spanish guys couldn’t afford it and it was a liberty that they were playing in their bare feet and the English team had boots on. He wasn’t happy with me but the following week the two teams played again and the Spanish won 5:0. I think justice was served. It was a holiday I’d never forget for one reason or another and forty years later Roy and I returned to Malgrat for a holiday and the Hotel Papi is still there. We had a drink in the hotel one day and they still have the old tennis tables lying in a corner like a monument so we took a photograph of it and the hotel and reminisced about that great year.

Chapter 11 – Re-forming.

A week after I came back from Spain I was watching television when a knock came to the door. When I opened it I was surprised to see Charlie Low. I hadn’t seen him since the split with the Memphis Soul Band a year and a half ago. I told him to come in and have a cup of tea and we started to chat about the good times with the band. He asked me if I would like to start another band up with him and soon the old feeling was coming back. He told me the old band had split up and reckoned we could get Kenny Robertson to play with us, and maybe Tam McMillan. I was excited but I had no drums, unless I could get a cheap kit . Charlie said Kenny was playing with the Moonrakers and they were playing at the Cavendish on Saturday night so we should go and talk to him. The Moonrakers were a teenybopper band who were extremely popular and that evening there were about 300 of their fans in the Cavendish so the place was noisy. They sounded good and that was due to Kenny Robertson on the bass guitar who was a tremendous musician. When the band had finished Kenny came over to talk to us and asked what we thought of the band. Charlie said they were rubbish but he thought Kenny was great he told him. He then said we were putting the band together again and did he want to join us. “I’m in” said Kenny “when do we start?” Charlie told him it would be in a couple of weeks’ time and we were going to try and get Tam back as well. I had two weeks to get another drum kit so I started to look around the music shops. I couldn’t afford to buy a kit in the usual places, i.e. Gordon Simpsons, Pete Seatons, Mev Taylor, etc., etc., so I kept looking. I was walking down Cockburn Street in Edinburgh one morning and I passed a second-hand shop. Displayed in the window was a Trixan drum kit. I had neither seen nor heard of a Trixan kit. It had a three inch snare drum and the bass drum was low and long. It had one tom-tom, one tenor tom-tom, a high hat and one cheap cymbal and was a red sparkle colour. It cost £50. I knew the guy in the shop and went in to talk to him about it. I said I had thirty pounds and I could pay him £2 a week until I paid it off. He said OK and I was on cloud nine! Charlie got in touch with me and said he had a place for us to rehearse and he had been in touch with Tam McMillan who had agreed to come along on Saturday morning as well. Charlie said that our former bass guitarist Stuart Whitehead’s father was doing up a property in Niddrie Street at the top of the Canongate and it was going to be a beat club, so we could rehearse in it whenever we liked. The club was like a high cellar. In fact it wasn’t unlike the Place in Victoria Street where we had made such an impact a couple of years previously. It seemed like a hundred years ago to me. The rehearsal came to an abrupt halt when Tam announced that he wanted to do a cabaret style act, singing Engelbert Humperdink, Bobby Darin and Tom Jones’ style of songs. Charlie said we should discuss it and I said to Charlie “fuck him. He got you and me thrown out of the band we made and loved and now he’s got delusions of grandeur. Let’s send him on his way”. Kenny agreed to Tam got the bullet. That was great satisfaction for me. “What do we do now?” asked Kenny. Charlie said we would advertise in the Edinburgh Evening News for a singer and have the auditions here in the club. We had over two hundred applicants for the job and we auditioned for a week or more without agreeing on a singer. “Why don’t you and Kenny do the singing between you?” I said. “You’re both as good if not better than what we had auditioned”. They said they’d give it a try and the first song they sang was one by the Showstoppers called Ain’t Nothing But a Houseparty. We had only played one verse when all the workmen in the club came in to listen to us and when we finished they were clapping and cheering which gave Charlie and Kenny a lot of confidence in doing the vocals. Kenny sang the next one. I’ve Gotta Get a Message to You by the Bee Gees and got the same reaction. All the workmen were asking me to do a song so I did a Rock n’ Roll medley consisting of Johnny B Goode, Tutti Frutti, What’d I Say and High School Confidential. I think it was the longest break these workmen had ever taken. “You’re right” Boab. “We don’t need a singer”. A couple of weeks later we had about 30 songs in our repertoire and apart from a few oldies I sang, they were all chart numbers. Charlie said he had found us a job in a big upstairs lounge in Portobello and the Manager of the place said that if we went down well we could get a resident job. I was just delighted to be playing again. Charlie said we should get some band clothes so we bought white silk shirts with musketeer style sleeves with ruffles down the front and black bell-bottom trousers and black shoes. Charlie had an old Hillman Imp car and he got a trailer for the back of it to carry the band gear. Things were looking up. We arrived at the Portobello gig about an hour before we were due to start playing and the place was getting busy. I reckoned the lounge could hold about 75 people and by the time we started it was full. The evening just flashed past and at the end of the night the Manager asked us to play every Saturday. We were a really tight three piece and still calling ourselves The Memphis Soul Band. Two weeks later the Manager of the lounge started charging admission and no one complained. We got a lot of attention from the girls but the music was our drug. One night after we finished playing Kenny brought three girls to the stage and introduced us. He said that his parents were on holiday for a week and we could go back to his house for a party with the girls. What a laugh. Charlie was in the Hillman Imp with the girls and Kenny and I were sitting on top of the gear in the trailer. When we got to Kenny’s house Charlie got out his guitar and we had a couple of beers and we were all singing. Kenny disappeared into the bedroom with one of the girls and Charlie and I looked at each other and smiled. Half-an-hour later we decided for a laugh to burst into the room and surprise them. When we crashed into the room Kenny and the girl were sitting on his bed playing cards! That’s how we all were at that moment in time.

Chapter 12 – The Warren Davis Band.

We went from strength to strength playing in a lot of different types of venue, lounges, social clubs, etc etc until one day Charlie said that we had a booking in a club in Princes Street called The International Club. The International was situated above Watches of Switzerland at 127 Princes Street and the gig was on Friday night at 10pm. I thought this was a strange time to start at but apparently they had two stages in the club and a band started at 8pm on one stage and the other band started at 10pm on the other stage. Charlie said he along with Kenny would set up the gear earlier in the day and I could meet them there. I made my way along Princes Street and when I came to Watches of Switzerland I noticed the entrance to The International Club. There was a steep staircase which led up to the foyer area where there was a large coffee bar and the entrance to the Dance Hall. There was another door which took you to another level and there was another dance hall there. When I arrived the coffee bar and the foyer was jam-packed with people as the first band had just finished. I walked into the main hall and it was an amazing place. There was a huge stage on the right-hand side stretching the full width of the hall. On the hand-hand side there was a balcony the full width of the hall and below that, another smaller stage. When I saw Charlie he said the band that had been on were powerful with lots of equipment, white suits and plenty of fans. I asked what they were called and he said The Bay City Rollers. As soon as we started playing the crowd came in from the coffee bar and foyer and started to dance and they never stopped dancing until we finished at 12pm. We seemed to be playing the right stuff now and the punters knew what they wanted. While we were taking our equipment down the owner of the club, Jimmy Roccio, called us into his office. “I want you guys to play resident here on Friday nights” Jimmy said. “You play the right music and they all like you. The hours are going to change. I’m opening the club later so you will be playing 12pm to 2am. We immediately said yes and it was a residency that was to last for nearly four years. We secured a residency at the Imperial Hotel in Leith Street on a Friday night as well and as the hours there were 8pm to 10.30pm we were able to do a double booking. After a couple of months we were really proficient at the dance numbers. We had better equipment, we had a van, a driver and roadies. In fact, life couldn’t be better. One Friday night as I was getting ready for the gig a knock came to my door and when I opened it there was a guy standing there wearing a long sheepskin coat and a pair of striped flared trousers. He looked a bit scruffy with long afro-type multi-coloured hair and he just said “Hi Boab”. “I don’t think I know you” I said. “It’s me” the guy said, “Jimmy Scott”. “For fuck sake Jimmy, I didnae recognise ye. Where the hell have ye been?” Jimmy had been the singer with the band The Accused who used to follow The Memphis Soul Band all over the place and learn our numbers. He stepped in for Tam McMillan a couple of times although he didn’t have the quality in his voice that Tam had but he had a good range. He told me that he had been singing in Switzerland for a year and had actually been touring and singing with The Pretty Things for a couple of months. I told him I was on my way to do a couple of gigs and he said he could come to the Nash (International Club) later on to see us. Halfway through our first set Jimmy turned up, still looking like he could do with a good wash and he listened to us until we had our break. “What do you think of the band then Jimmy?” I asked him. “Great” he replied. “Any chance of me singing a couple of numbers?”. “No problem” I said. “Just let us warm them up a wee bit for the second half”. Thinking we were still a soul band he sung Solomon Burke’s Down in the Valley and Eddie Floyd’s Knock on Wood and it was terrific. The crowd wanted more so he sung Amen by Jimmy James and the Vagabonds then everyone wanted to know who he was. When he came off the stage he had two or three offers to sing with bands but he said no. Kenny said to me “we’ve got to get him Boab” and I agreed. Charlie, however, was another kettle of fish. He argued that we were doing ok by ourselves and it would only be another mouth to feed so less money for the rest of us. Charlie always thought of the money but Kenny and I were adamant and it was a 2-1 vote so Jimmy Scott was officially our singer. This really boosted the band as we now had a strong lead singer and two great voices to do the harmonies. I felt we were back on track again. Apart from Jimmy being a great vocalist, he was also good at getting us gigs but the first time he tried, he got a knock-back. “We’ll have to change the name of the band” he said seriously. “I was up in Walkers (Shandwick Place) last night and one of the owners said a flat no when I asked him for a job there”. He said apparently the band had failed to turn up for a gig there one night and he had blacklisted the Memphis Soul Band name so we’ll have to change it. I had to agree with Jimmy plus we didn’t really play an awful lot of soul numbers now so it could be time for a change. Jimmy said he had been touring with a Welsh band in Switzerland called The Warren Davis Monday Band so why don’t we call ourselves The Warren Davis Band? The next four months was brilliant as we were playing all the Edinburgh clubs, The Place, the Casablanca, The Oasis, McGoos, The Caves, The Gonk, etc etc plus a lot of college gigs which had opened up and we still had our two resident jobs. Life was sweet again. The Imperial Hotel was a different kind of gig for us. The hotel had two bars and a cocktail bar, a dance floor upstairs. It was mostly servicemen who frequented the place but more soldiers than sailors. We had been playing there for about a month when four guys came in one night and I recognised two of them. Crawford Hunter was one of my protégées. I gave him some of his first drum lessons and he eventually became one of the best drummers in Edinburgh. The other one I seemed to know. He had long black curly hair and rugged looks then I remembered I had seen him a while back at the Bonnyrigg Regal when I went to see the foundations. It was Rab Hughes. While we were having our break Jimmy explained that the four guys were in fact his old band and they were always trying to get him to go back to them but he said there was no danger of that happening. The crowd at the Imperial were great. They loved us and everyone was always trying to buy us drinks but at that time I was the only one who took a drink and that was one pint only. The following night we had a gig at the Top Storey in Leith Street. It was a really cold night in the club and I think the heating had broken down so we just kept on our fur type coats while we were playing and it seemed to start a bit of a style format. I didn’t think any of the Patterson brothers recognised me as they never said anything about the last time I played on that stage when the Embers played their last gig. We played there six or seven times and each time the brothers would shut off the heating and we would wear or furry coats and most of the audience would be wearing furries as well. One night we were playing at The Imperial and it was a real busy night. A girl came up to Jimmy and asked him to sing Please Stay. It wasn’t a number we usually played but it was an easy chord so Charlie started it up and Jimmy started to sing. Halfway through the song he jumps off the stage and starts to dance with the girl who had requested the song. When he finished everyone started clapping and Jimmy kissed the girl and got back on the stage. At the end of the night I went up to the bar for a pint and while I was having a sip I noticed a lot of people running into the corridor. I walked out with my drink in my hand only to see a guy pinning Jimmy up against the wall and he was pummelling his face with his fist. I dropped my pint on the floor, grabbed the guy’s hair with my right hand and gave him a hook with my left. He dropped to the ground but Jimmy was transfixed and didn’t even move. The next thing I knew there was about five other blokes throwing punches at me from different directions. Just then three soldiers intervened and the fight got stopped. Jimmy’s mouth and nose were bleeding, my ear was bleeding, my knuckles were bleeding. I had a pair of blue mohair trousers on and one of the legs was ripped halfway up and there was a hole in the knee of the other led. We went to the men’s room to clean up as Charlie and Kenny were putting the gear in the trailer. When they came back they said there was a crowd of guys (20 or 30) waiting for Jimmy and I downstairs. Charlie said they had been talking to a couple of policemen and told them about the crowd waiting for us but they said they could do nothing until the mob starting something. I don’t think they had heard of crime prevention in those days! There were about 25 young, fit soldiers waiting to stand up for us but eventually a police van showed up and the crowd was dispersed. What a state I was in. I had no change of trousers and I had to borrow a t-shirt to play at the Nash and both Jimmy and myself were absolutely knackered at the end of the gig. I took the Monday off work to go to the doctors as I had a bad headache and thought it might have occurred because of the fight. The doctor said it was sinus trouble and gave me something to sniff. He told me to stay off work for a couple of days. After my appointment at the docs I took a trip up to Newington to Pete Seaton’s music store and browsed the drum room. Pete Seaton was a lovely guy. He knew everything about music and instruments. Nothing was too hard for him and his store was the first place any musician in Edinburgh would go, and by this time there were a lot of music stores in Edinburgh. Pete also had his own orchestra and they were very popular. His son also had a band. As I walked around looking at the drum kits, I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw a Ludwig drum kit the image of the one I had owned in the original Memphis Soul Band. “How much is the Ludwig kit Pete?” I asked. “£350 and that’s just for the drums. The cymbals and hi-hats are £100 so that would be £450 in total”. Pete said he would give me £50 for my Trixam kit and that could be the deposit. I could pay the rest up but would have to get my dad to act as guarantor on the deal. It took me a long time to pluck up the courage to ask him but he said yes. To be honest I think when my mother died my dad didn’t care about anything. He took to drinking and the pub was his refuge but at half the man he was, he was still twice the man most would ever be. He could be funny, serious, intelligent and caring, quick tempered and not a man to be argued with. The next day we were in Pete’s store. Dad and Pete got on like a house on fire and in between laughs, jokes, reminiscences we did the deal for the drums. “Here’s a spare pair of drum sticks” said Pete, “and a pair of beaters” he added, “and an extra drum key”. “How about a Jew’s harp?” my dad asked. “Certainly Robert” and produced a Jew’s harp and put it in my case. My dad couldn’t get over this and talked about this incident for years to come. That was Pete Seaton. He always had everything you wanted and I dealt with him and indeed so did my band for many years. The guys were all excited to see my new drums. When we got into the hall there had been a fight and there were tables and chairs all over the dance floor and the doorman was picking them up. I said to Charlie that I wasn’t happy with the situation here and I was going to speak to the Manager about it. The Manager was a tall guy with a spotty face. He also had bad breath and body odour. I asked him what kind of security he could give the band while we were in the hotel and he more or less said none so I said this would be the last time we would be playing for him. Bad breath said we could finish now if we wanted and if we hadn’t moved our gear in five minutes he would have it thrown down stairs. I told him that if anyone other than me touched the drums there would be a bigger riot in the place, bigger than last week’s. As I was taking the last of my drums downstairs about 20 soldiers who were fans of the band came upstairs and asked me what was happening. I told them about the Manager’s attitude and they were furious. When we were leaving the hotel there was a lot of noise coming from the dance hall, chairs crashing, glasses smashing – it sounded like the Alamo. I think our soldier pals were taking their revenge. A few weeks later Charlie said we had a Monday night gig at the Pilton Youth Club. He knew the guy who ran it and said it was busy and the wages were good. Most bands did the high school circuit like, Lasswade, Dalkeith, Bonnyrigg, Haddington, etc etc and they were all good, busy gigs and some of the youth clubs as well like The Cephas, The Greenhill, The Greenlight and the wages were good. We arrived at the PYC early to set up the gear and there were a lot of kids outside willing to help carry the equipment into the club. The guy who ran the club said “don’t let any of them help you with the gear or you’ll never see it again”. I wondered what kind of place this was?! The PYC was a huge hall and there was already about 200 kids inside all shouting, screaming and arguing at the same time. There were guys playing football on the dance floor, people throwing darts, everywhere but at the dart board and girls fighting with each other. We set up the gear but Jimmy didn’t want to go in as he still had flashbacks to the Imperial Hotel fight. I told him to disregard anyone who shouted abuse or tried to get a reaction from him and just to sing. Amongst all the noise and confusion, we started our first number, Jennifer Eccles by The Hollies. All the kids ran to the stage immediately and got completed engrossed in the band. At the end of the number the ovation was tremendous and it gave us a great lift for the rest of the evening. There was one guy who wasn’t very interested in the music. Everyone called him “Knickers”. He was hell-bent on berating the band and by the third song started to shout obscenities at Jimmy. But then Knickers made a big mistake. He grabbed one of my drum sticks and started to batter the front of my bass drum with it. I leapt from the drum kit right on top of him and pinned him to the floor. He was about 17 or 18 but when I put my hand on his throat he cried like a baby. The place came to a standstill and then I heard a voice shouting “leave my brother alone”. I looked up to see a guy the same size as me, well-built and looking like he could handle himself. “Your brother’s got a foul mouth and he was abusing and obstructing the band” I said taking up a defensive position. “Aye I know” he said slapping Knickers on the head. “Get yersel hame” he said and Knickers was gone. It turned out that this guy whose name was Charlie Knight was on the PYC Committee and had a big say in the running of the club. After that it was a great place to play. You’d have thought there would have been a lot of trouble in the place as it was a rough area but if you were caught fighting or causing trouble you were barred from the club and it was the place all the kids in the area wanted to be. Sometimes we would play other nights in the PYC and one such Saturday night we were playing when Knickers got out of hand again and grabbed a girl’s tammy and put it on his head. The girl was upset and crying so I had jumped off the stage to take the tammy from Knickers and slapped him round the head . It was the band break so I took the girl into the coffee bar and got her a drink. She was still upset so I asked her where she stayed and she said “just over the road”. I took her home and met her mother who thanked me and gave me a cup of tea. I didn’t stay long and as I was leaving I said to the girl “I never even asked your name”. “Lorraine Banks” she replied. Charlie Knight was a nice big guy. He started coming to all our gigs and eventually he became our Roadie. He was a good organiser and could set up our equipment in about 20 minutes. It was great as we used to do a lot of double gigs in any one night and all we had to do was turn up and play. Kenny announced one day that he had got us a gig in Dalkeith High School playing alongside the Bay City Rollers. We thought this would be good for us and we could show the Rollers’ fans what we had in our tank. We were supposed to play the first spot and the gig started at 8pm. We arrived at 7.30pm and there was a band called Tandem already playing. The guy who was organising the show said that the Rollers were playing at Lasswade High School that night and not here. We bombed down the road to Lasswade High School and when we got there the organiser was livid and said that the Rollers had had to go on first as the crowd were getting angry as the show hadn’t started on time. Therefore the Rollers were going to play the whole night. We were all devastated and on the way home I gave way to my feelings and gave Kenny a broadside. He wasn’t happy. We hadn’t practised for a couple of weeks (due to Kenny having a girlfriend and putting her before the band) so I said “we’ll have a practice on Saturday morning if that’s OK with everyone”. “I’m going to see my mother in hospital on Saturday morning” Kenny announced. “Fucking liar” I shouted. “You’re going to see that wee bird in Portobello. You’ll no get that date wrong” I added. “That’s it” said Kenny, “I’m packing in the band”. I couldn’t control myself. I jumped at the wee bastard and started laying into him. The rest of the band and roadies jumped on me and left Kenny cowering in the back of the van. I started to pull his equipment out of the van and I said “if you’re finished with the band you can make your own way home and take your gear with you”. Kenny had a Selmer Goliath bass cabinet 5ft tall with a Selmer 100 watt amp and a fender guitar and we were in the country and he needed a van to move it. The story goes that he left the gear by the side of the country road and walked into Dalkeith to phone his dad to come with a van to pick it up. If that was the case, it was a miracle someone didn’t steal it. That would never happen nowadays! It would have to be cemented into the road to keep it safe!!

Chapter 13 – The New Warren Davis Band.

Like me, playing was a way of life for him. How could he throw away everything. What were we going to do now? Kenny was a great musician and the guts of the band had built up together. I had never seen Kenny with girlfriend and all of a sudden he was smitten. I was sad at the situation but I wasn’t going to let him dictate to us, as far as the group was concerned. Jimmy Scott came up with a solution. He said he could get us a contract to play all the big hotels in Switzerland. He was originally supposed to take Crawford Thomson, Rab Hughes, Tony Quinn and one other but he had started playing with us and thought he would wait for the right time to tell us and that was now. He said his cousin Alec would play the bass and Rab Hughes would play the keyboards. We agreed in principle but had to go down to Penicuik just outside Edinburgh to meet with Rab Hughes. The three of us went there the following evening to meet Rab. My first impression was of an arrogant self-opinionated who thought he was God’s gift to women. What really impressed me was the fact that he had just been married about two weeks previously but he had told his wife before the wedding that the band would always come first. I liked that a lot but I thought his wife must be a right dumbo! Next Jimmy got in touch with his cousin Alec Ingles to play the bass. Alec had played with Jimmy in The Accused and Kenny had taught Alec how to play the bass. We cancelled all our gigs for a fortnight and had a meeting in my house. Rab knew a lot of our numbers but Alec didn’t know any of them so we had to rehearse really long and hard. By the end of the second week we had Alec capable for about 30 songs. He didn’t have the same presence as Kenny but he coped. Jimmy said he had been in touch with Buddy Miller the Manager of McGoos and the club had closed but another one was opening up across the road in Fleshmarket Close and he wanted us to play on the opening night. This was going to be our first gig with our new line up so we were all a bit nervous about it. When we arrived at Friscos (the new club) Buddy said there was no heating on in the hall but we could play upstairs in the café which was huge in itself. We had a few blips that night but we came through it and made a lot of friends there in the process. We also got a few dates in other places and a once-a-month residency in Friscos. Rab and Alec could also sing harmonies so all round we became a better band. Alec quickly became the member of the band who booked all our gigs and Rab drew all the young groupies to the band. Alec managed to secure a great gig for us, a Sunday night residency at Bilston Casino, a miner’s club in the village of Bilston near Penicuik. This was a white elephant of a place. It was on three levels. On the basement level there was a swimming pool and an indoor bowling alley, on the ground floor level there was a huge stage and a dance floor capable of holding 500-600 people. There was also a huge bar area. Behind the stage there were four large dressing rooms with lights around the mirrors, toilets, etc, really professional. In its heyday a lot of big stars played there including the Batchelors, Kathy Kirby, Frankie Vaughan, etc, etc. But it hadn’t come up to date for the young people and had fallen into disarray. The Manager of the Casino was a guy called Abe Moffat Jnr. He was the son of the great miners’ leader Abe Moffat and a real nice guy. He told us this was the first time a band like ours would play in the club as they had been employing Scottish country dance bands, etc. We set up our gear in the afternoon of the Sunday and we were going to play and we found that as the ceiling of the hall started about six feet over our heads and angled all the way up to the first floor balcony we had to play with a lot less volume than we did anywhere else. However, on saying that, we found this to our advantage and we ended up with a perfectly balanced sound. The first Sunday we played there were about 30 people there in the whole place. It was eerie. Abe said that was the most people that had been in the club for months and could we come back next week. We of course said yes and the next week there was about 100 people there. By the fourth week there were over 500 people and that was how it carried on. There were bus parties, van loads and taxis full of people every week. In fact you had to be there by 5.45pm to make sure you got into the place because it was so popular. We were only there for three weeks when we got our first raise and we had five raises in a year. It was embarrassing. It was a great place to play and the whole community was thriving. We would go out on Sunday afternoon with all the roadies and three or four hangers on and have a little rehearsal then have our lunch (they had a huge kitchen and dining area). Then we would all go into the pool for a couple of hours, play some cards and have a couple of beers and chill out until it was time to play. And it didn’t cost us anything. If I ever felt like a star in all the years I played, this was definitely the time. We still played all the usual places. Our residency at The Nash, the Place, Friscos, The Oasis, Walkers, the Cavendish, the Bowler and Brolly etc etc. We were a tight unit and some weeks we were playing 10 or 11 gigs. I was making more money than I was earning at Munrospun. Jimmy Scott made a phone call from my house to this doctor in Switzerland who was supplying all the bands for all the hotels in the country of which there were many. He said he would send us the contracts and he would take 15 per cent of what we made. That was enough for Jimmy and Alec who promptly packed in their jobs in readiness. Rab hadn’t worked in his life although he was in the Merchant Navy for a short time and Charlie had a small stationary business and was married. His wife was going to manage the business. I made up my mind I wouldn’t pack my job in until everything was done and dusted. Three days later the contracts arrived. We all had to sign them and put in the amount we would be charging for a gig. Charlie being in business said he would take the contracts home, work out a price and send them away. Three weeks later and no reply from the doctor so Jimmy sent him a letter. A while later he got a reply. It was a simple message which read “two thousand pounds is too expensive per gig for your orchestra (that’s what they called bands in Switzerland). Then the penny dropped. Charlie didn’t want to go so he bumped up the price to make it impossible for us to get the gigs and therefore we couldn’t go either. We didn’t make a big thing of it and we carried on with our gigs but I think Jimmy really took it hard. A month later Rab Hughes suggested we take a trip to Melrose to a big musical instrument store called Clinkscales as we definitely needed a new PA system and Rab needed a better keyboard. Clinkscales was in Melrose just outside of Galashiels and it was a lovely drive down there. It was Sir Walter Scott country by the River Tweed, it was summertime and it was magic. Jimmy Clinkscale was a likeable man and he showed us around his store. It was magnificent. He showed us a Marshall PA system, 100 watt amp and two cabinets each with 4x12 inch speakers. They were huge in the day. As Jimmy was going to take out the hire purchase agreement we left him to get on with it and browsed the store for Rab’s keyboard. Ten minutes later Jimmy came back looking sad and told us he couldn’t get the hire purchase as he did not have a job. I asked Clinkscale was there any way around this and he said anyone who had a job could go guarantor for Jimmy Scott so the stupid one, me, stepped up to the plate. I didn’t realise the problems this was going to cause me at a later date. Rab bought a Farfisa organ on HP and we seemed to have stepped up in the gear department. We had a gig that night in The Cavendish Club in Edinburgh. The Cavendish was a real ballroom and frequented for many years by really good ballroom dancers and an orchestra but the Manager was trying to bring the place up to date so he was getting young groups to play on a Saturday night. There were two bands on that night who were the Athenians, a popular well liked four piece from Edinburgh featuring Ally Black on lead guitar and us. The Athenians were elder statesmen on the Edinburgh scene and they were still a great band. When they finished their set they got great applause from the crowd. We had a good reception ourselves as we were getting a wee reputation around the clubs. Halfway through this evening Jimmy decided to sing a song that we had been rehearsing a couple of nights earlier. It was called “By the light of the burning candle” by The Marbles, a song which was to become synonymous with the Warren Davis Band. The audience went crazy when we finished the number. It was a four piece harmony song. The crowd started chanting “The Candle, The Candle” so we had to play it again. When we came off the stage the Athenians were all standing at the dressing room door congratulating us on the harmonies we had produced. You’re probably wondering about the other things going on in my life at that time, work, family, home life, love life etc but I was so consumed by the band it became my whole life. The gigs were getting even more hectic and one night at the International Club after we had played two gigs that night already I was standing in the coffee bar when Charlie came over with a young girl. I recognised here from somewhere and when Charlie said “this is Lorraine” I remembered her from the PYC in Pilton. Charlie said she lived next door to him and her mother had kicked her out so Charlie and his wife were putting her up until she got somewhere else to live. We had a cup of coffee together and I didn’t see her again that night. After we finished our Sunday night residency at Bilston Charlie said he was celebrating his wedding anniversary on the Monday night and would I like to go to dinner with them, as Lorraine was going too and I could be a partner for her. We went to a restaurant which was really nice. I had never been interested in dating, etc but since Rab Hughes had joined the band I had become curious as every night after a gig he went off with a different bird, I also noticed Jimmy and Rab didn’t seem to have much respect for any of the girls who hung around the band, and there were plenty. Charlie and I couldn’t get our heads around the fact that they cursed and swore a lot when speaking to girls and the girls were the same. It was refreshing on my date to have a conversation with a girl without any expletives. Lorraine seemed to be well educated and I enjoyed the whole evening. The following Wednesday I was working an early shift in Munrospun and finished at 2pm. I felt tired so I went straight to my bed when I got home. A short while later I heard a knock at the door and I was amazed to see Lorraine standing there. I asked her how she knew my address and she said that Charlie had given it to her (the wee bastard), I asked her if she would like a coffee and she said yes and that she would make it and for me to go back to bed. She told me she worked in a chemist shop and that Wednesday was her half day. She came through with the coffee and we talked for a while. She said she was staying with Charlie and his wife until she could get somewhere else as her mother did not want her round the house (I should have heard the warning bells then). She then went through to the toilet and returned five minutes later in her underwear, then got into bed with me. I should have pushed her out but I wasn’t getting any younger and with the advent of the permissive society I thought – in for a penny………! Afterwards I wondered what all the fuss had been about. I then told Lorraine it was the first time I had done the Deed and she started to cry. She said she should have been a virgin for me and I thought to myself that she should have been too. She was at my house every Wednesday after that. About six weeks later she came to the door at the usual time and I told her to stay in the house for about 30 minutes as I was going to the Bunch of Roses to see one of my workmates off as he was going down to London to work. Lorraine wasn’t happy about this and slammed her bag on the floor. I just said “see you in half an hour” and went round to the pub. I was only there about 10 minutes when the landlord shouted out “Does anyone in the bar have a girlfriend called Lorraine?”. I said yes and he told me she was outside crying hysterically and I should go and see what was up. There were about 12 people round her. She was in the middle of them all wailing and pulling her hair out. I was shocked and the more I tried to calm her down the worse she got. Eventually with the help of two women I managed to get her back to the house. We had a cup of coffee and when she was calm I said maybe we should curtail our Wednesday meetings for a while. It was definitely the wrong move as she started behaving more erratically, so much so that the downstairs neighbour came up to complain about the noise. I then thought my dad usually comes home at about 3.30pm and he didn’t know about Lorraine yet and if he had a drink in him he would hit the roof so I agreed to see her next week. The affair continued. A few weeks later I took her out for a drink in the West End and to meet my mate, Roy. I told her it would only be for an hour as I was going up to the International Club. They had started a Thursday night gig called the Pop Artist Club when all the musicians could go and talk about the music scene etc etc. they would have the equipment set up so everyone could have a jam but no women were allowed unless they played in a band. It was a great idea. After we had our drink I walked Lorraine to the bus stop and there was a queue. She suddenly said she was coming to the Nash with me and we started to argue. Everyone in the bus queue heard what was going on and took an interest – as you would. Eventually I turned my back and started to walk away. The next minute I felt a huge thump on my head and realised she had hit me with her handbag. I was seeing double. Of course the queue at the bus stop were enjoying every minute of it and she was milking it for all it was worth. We had to run along Princes Street to get away from her and when we got to the Nash I said to Roy “well, what do you think of Lorraine?” “She’s a fuckin’ bampot” he said. She started to go with me to gigs and sometimes she was overbearing. If she met someone for the first time she would be all over them as if she had known them forever and she was very volatile. Rab who gave everyone we knew a nickname called her “the twig” after Twiggy the model was she was dead skinny. When I took offence at this he nick-named me “big H” (the H standing for huff). He also named Charlie “wee Hit” (the Hit part short for Hitler, always scheming). Alec was “bean” (he had a big nose) and Jimmy was “pancho” (because he looked like a Mexican bandid). One Wednesday when I had finished work and was waiting for Lorraine to arrive the phone rang and it was her. She told me she was in hospital. She had found out she was pregnant. She had been running for a bus that morning and started to bleed heavily so she was taken to hospital and they were keeping her in. She asked me to go and tell her mother about the situation. I took the bus out to Pilton, rehearsing everything I was going to say to her mother. When I got there her uncle (who was really her mother’s boyfriend) was arriving at the same time so I asked him to give me ten minutes to talk to her. I made this big speech about how I loved her daughter and we had been more than just friends over the last couple of months expecting a barrage from her but she just listened and said “would you like a cup of tea?” Well I was disappointed to say the least. I had put her daughter in the family way, she was in hospital with a suspected miscarriage and she offered me a cup of tea! Of course when I told my dad that was a different story! Lorraine always wore a beret and one day she wasn’t well and when my dad asked what was wrong with her I said she had a touch of the sun. Well dad’s reply to that was “well, I hope it’s no a touch o’ ma son she’s goat”! I thought to myself that I maybe had the wrong outlook on life. Lorraine was in the hospital for a couple of weeks and the baby was okay. I decided to do the right thing so we would get married. About six weeks later we did and she moved into my dad’s house with me. She was a hard girl to live with. I thought I had a short temper but she was ten times worse and went into a tantrum about every little thing. My dad started staying out at the weekend because he could not stand it, and it was his house! One day she was acting like a child and I slapped her on the backside. Well she freaked out screaming and shouting and ran out of the house saying she was going to get the police. My dad came in and asked what was going on. I told him and he just shook his head. A couple of minutes later I answered the door and there stood Lorraine with two burly policemen. One was a sergeant who pushed me into the house saying “do you think you’re a big man hitting a woman?” I said did he think I felt proud of the fact that I had had to smack my wife like an unruly child? Then she started screaming again and my dad was trying to calm the situation down. The police-man told him to shut up. Well that was definitely a bad move! “Shut up?” my dad said. “Naw, you shut up and this is my house so get the fuck out” and he added “and you can get out too miss and fuckin well leave my son alone”. There was complete silence for a moment then the police-man said “anymore of this carry on and we’ll arrest the lot of you” and they left. Friday nights were the worst for arguments and it got so bad that when I came home from the International Club and an argument started I would walk out and go up to the Park and sleep in my car. My dad didn’t come home at all and as I said, it was his house! Eventually she had my daughter Teresa Dawn Batten a lovely wee girl with blonde hair but nothing changed. I thought it might be different once we got our own house but it got worse. I was becoming morose and all the guys associated with the band noticed but no one said anything at the time. One Sunday we had a booking at Lasswade High School and we were doing the whole night ourselves which was unusual as there were always two or three bands playing at this gig. Twenty minutes before we were due to start there was no sign of Jimmy Scott so we told Charlie Knight to go to his house and see what was wrong. Charlie came back just as we were due to go on stage. He said he had knocked on the door a few times and got no answer although he was sure he could see Jimmy peeking out from behind the curtains. We didn’t know what to do when Rab said he knew most of Jimmy’s numbers and would do them if we would all help out. We went on stage that night and it was like the first job we ever did together. Everyone was trying hard and by the end of the evening we sounded like a new band. Don’t get me wrong, Jimmy Scott was a great singer but Rab had quality and the girls loved him and that night I realised that you had to get the girl fans on your side and Rab certainly did that! “We don’t need Jimmy” said Alec and he was Jimmy’s cousin. Nobody disagreed with him. Charlie said we’d talk to Jimmy at the practice on Tuesday night and we all agreed. I was working late on Monday night when Alec, Rab and Charlie Knight appeared at the door of the Frames department. I asked them what was up and they said they had gone to see Jimmy at his house and his wife said he was going abroad with a band from Thurso called Gully Foil and he was up in Aberdeen with them at the moment. Rab said he had all our microphones with him and had taken the PA system which he didn’t think he would have to pay if he was abroad. “Okay” I said. “Let’s go up to Aberdeen”. It was a long trip for us in the old J2 van. It was struggling a bit but eventually we got there. It was early in the morning and I suggested going to the police station to see if we could find out where they were staying. The guy at the desk was friendly and helpful and he said the PA system was actually Jimmy’s although I was the guarantor for it which meant if he didn’t pay for it I would have to do so. The microphones were different. They were legally ours but he said the police would only get involved if we didn’t get them back and he gave us their addresses, When we got to the house it was in darkness and it was in a run-down area. I told Charlie and Alec to go to the back door and Rab and I went to the front. We knocked at the door and this small skinny guy answered. He had long hair and looked as if he hadn’t washed for a week. “Is Jimmy Scott here?” He asked me who wanted to know and I said “The Warren Davis Band”. He shut the door and came back five minutes later and said “he doesn’t want to know man”. That was enough for me. I put my shoulder to the door and the skinny one just about got plastered to the wall. We opened the door to the living room and there were bodies lying all over the floor, bot sexes. Jimmy Scott jumped up, white as a sheet and said “what’s wrong Boab?” I told him the only reason we were there was to collect the PA and the microphones. If we didn’t get the gear there was going to be trouble. He said we could have the mikes but he needed the PA as they were going to Switzerland and legally it belonged to him. I was just about to start a fracas when the lead guitarist of Jimmy’s band, a guy called Stephan, said his dad had money and he would meet me in a couple of days in Melrose to pay for the gear and he gave me his hand on it. Not one of us looked at Jimmy Scott as we left, and his cousin Alec said it was good riddance. But I was sad as it was the end yet again of another good thing that might have been. A couple of days later I was on my way to Melrose. Rab’s van had broken down so I took the bus to Galashiels. It was a beautiful summer day so I decided to walk the ten miles or so to Melrose. I got there about 1pm and Stephan was supposed to be coming at 1.30pm so I told Jimmy Clinkscale what was happening. He just shook his head and made me a cup of tea. By 3pm I knew the Stephan boy wasn’t going to show and I said to Jimmy that maybe we could stop this before they left the country. Perhaps he could phone the police. Jimmy said there was absolutely nothing we or the police could do. He said if the payment wasn’t made by the end of the week I would be liable for it as I was the guarantor. I told him straight I wouldn’t be paying it as I was informing him of what was happening. He said he could do nothing about it and I left the place with nothing resolved. We carried on playing and everywhere we went we got encouragement from the fans. We became a better band altogether and out of the blue we got a residency that really put us on top. Alec who was now handling all the bookings said that he had had a phone call from Walkers in Shandwick Place, an upmarket lounge bar in the West End of Edinburgh where we occasionally played. Paddy Reilly the co-owner wanted us to play resident on the Saturday night as their resident band of the moment were leaving to go abroad at the end of the month. This was a boost for us as anybody who was anybody went to Walkers, a lot of club owners, booking agents, etc. they all frequented the place at one time or another. I suggested we get suits to wear when playing there. Everyone agreed. The Bay City Rollers were playing in white suits in those days so we got blue suits with a black trim on the jackets and black trim on the trousers. The Saturday resident band were leaving as I said and Paddy asked us to make an appearance so we could be introduced to the crowd. We arrived with our suits on. We felt like the Beatles. We got an escort to the stage and got a tremendous ovation when we did a number although we found out one thing. It was too hot in the place to be wearing suits. After a few weeks playing in Walkers and all the other gigs we had I knew this was a way of life. We were only semi-professional but I felt like we were a pro outfit. Rab and Alec never had a job at that time so they were professional. We started the residency in Walkers and it was certainly the place to be on a Saturday night. All the best looking girls were there. Rab was in his element! Guys from all different bands came to hear what we were doing and it was that simple. We played the most popular songs of the day and changed our repertoire all the time which prompted an entrepreneur of the time, Rab Thallon”, to say “the Warren Davis Band are the most commercial band anywhere”. Rab was also a lead guitarist in a band called Arena. We never wanted to be recording stars or write our own material but we were successful in spite of this. At this time we had been resident at Bilston Miners for two years and everything was still going great. 500+ customers every week, all the bars busy and everybody happy. We were on our break one week and I was late coming off the stage. I couldn’t find the boys anywhere and then one of the doormen said they were all in Abe Moffat’s office. As I was making my way there the boys were coming out with downcast faces and when I asked what was wrong, Alec said “we’ve been sacked”. I was furious and went straight into the office. Abe said the Committee had decided to get a disco on a Sunday night and that made me worse. “I hope you’re going to announce this to the crowd” I said, “because if you don’t, I will” I added. I don’t know how we managed to play the rest of the evening as we were all on a downer but when we finished Abe got up and said something like “I hope you all agree with me that this has been a fantastic band over the last two years (tremendous applause) but the Committee in its wisdom has decided that two years for a band to rule so they have decided to try other things, including a disco.” Well the whole place was up in arms, everyone was booing, people were throwing things, sporadic fights broke out all over the place and I thought to myself that this was a terrible way to end a fantastic two years. A fortnight later the whole place went up in flames and one of the best venues was over forever. A new club had opened up in Blair Street in Edinburgh called The Caves and we got a call to play there one Friday before our Nash gig. When we arrived that evening Rab and I went to the coffee bar for a coke. Rab got his and sat down at a table. The girl who served him said “what’s his name?” pointing to Rab. “Rab Hughes” I said. “I want him” the girl announced. I was slightly shocked at this remark as I was still quite naïve about the modern day woman. At this point another girl behind the counter asked me if she could get me anything. I looked up to see a beautiful girl with long dark hair , a fabulous figure and a wonderful smile. She was a bit brassy (or so I thought at first) but was pretty confident in herself. She got a lot of attention from the guys which I didn’t like much but that didn’t deter me. I quickly realised that the first girl Della, was the one who made the decisions for the two girls so I said I would get her fixed up with Rab if she would get me fixed up with her mate. She agreed and we decided to meet up at the end of our set. “ By the way Della, what’s your pal’s name?” I asked. “Jackie Ogilvie” she said. When I sat down beside Rab I told him the plan and he asked me what girl was his and I pointed to Della. She had long blonde hair and a great figure. I said I was always doing him favours so he could do me this one favour and he agreed. I had never gone with any of the band followers and I still had a sense of faithfulness to Lorraine although it was dwindling. We finished our set that night and made a date to see them at the Metropole café in Torphichen Street. The Met was a meeting place for all the bands and roadies and band followers. We were to meet the girls at 10.30pm before we did our second gig which was at the Nash. The café was packed with bands finishing gigs and bands going to start gigs. Everyone had their eyes on us wondering who we were meeting and whispering etc especially Rab as he had a big reputation with the girls. At about 10.45 the door of the café opened and in walked Jackie and Della roaring drunk, rather loud and we wanted the floor to open up and swallow us. Mrs. P who owned the place told us to take them outside as they were in danger of being sick all over the place. We bundled them outside and as the time was getting on I suggested we take them in our cars to the Nash. Rab was a bit reluctant but went along with the idea and headed off. We got to the back door of the Nash and as we stopped Rab’s car window came down and Della’s head came out and she threw up all over the roadway. I couldn’t help laughing until Jackie did the very same thing. That was enough for Rab . he got out of the car and raced up the back stairs to the Nash leaving Della in the car. (Nobody locked their cars in those days). I did the same with Jackie. We just had enough time to change and get a tune up before starting our first number. It’s funny when I think of it now but after we finished our first number Rab leaned across and said to me “that was some fuckin’ date you got me H”. On the Saturday night at Walkers the place was chockers as usual. We had just started when I noticed from my high position on the drum stage Jackie and Della coming through the door. I thought “oh, no” but they were sober and attracting a lot of attention particularly Jackie. I had a great feeling when I saw her again. It wasn’t sexual. She seemed better than all this chaos that was going on in my life. When we finished the gig I went out to talk to her but Della was like a Svengali figure and seemed to dominate the conversation. I called Rab over and reluctantly he swaggered over. One word to Della from Rab (he never had a lot of conversation) and I had Jackie to myself. Miraculously Rab said he would take Della home so I said I would do the same with Jackie. Jack’s family lived in Pennywell Place at the time. When we parked the car she slid across the double seat beside me and we started kissing. It was pretty clear she liked me but I was still clutching to the old values and after a while we said goodnight. I felt guilty as I drove home that night and as soon as I got in the house Lorraine started. I about turned and made for the park where I settled down for the rest of the night. At the start of the next week we received a letter from the Council saying that they had a flat for us in the block just behind Munrospun. The flats had been built about a year ago and my sister lived in the other block. Lorraine was over the moon and I thought this might change all the aggro that was between us. The move was still a month away and they would let us know when it was ready. The night before we got the letter Charlie had loaned me a car from the saleroom he worked at and I was to take it back on the Monday. My own car had broken down. I was only at work for a couple of hours when Harry Turner called me into the office. “You’ve to go to the hospital Robert. Yer wife’s in labour” he said. It was lucky I had the car and I was quickly at the hospital. Lorraine wasn’t a good patient and fought the staff all the way saying at one point that she was not having the baby. However after 12 hours of labour the midwife said “come and see the Baby’s head Robert”. I looked just in time to see Teresa Dawn Batten making her entrance into the world. Lorraine was shattered and I was physically drained myself. I got home at 1am and my dad was livid. He said the police had been at the door about a stolen car. Charlie had to tell the garage owner the car had been stolen as I had not returned it in the morning when I had promised I would and he could not say he had loaned it to me. My dad was rambling on when I said “you’re a grandfather Dad”. He shook my hand and poured me a drink, and another and another until I fell asleep on the chair. We certainly wet the baby’s had that night. Lorraine was soon out of hospital and I thought having the baby might stabilise things but it was going from bad to worse. One weekend the band had a gig in Hawick at a big hotel we had played three or four times before and all the band were taking girls with them. I asked Jackie and to my surprise she had said yes and I told her we could get bed and breakfast in the hotel. After the gig that night we went back to the room, had tea and sandwiches and went to bed. I was full of remorse that night and sex hadn’t entered into the equation. I got up in the early hours of the morning and made a phone call to Lorraine. I said that the van had broken down and we were sleeping in it until the morning and we could get to a garage. She was nice on the phone and said she hoped everything would go well for us and that I should come home safely. I felt like a right heel by this time and vowed I would try harder with my marriage when I got home. In the meantime Della had told Jackie’s mother where she was and she got blue murder when she got home. Nothing changed at home. We were at each other’s throats most of the time and I think it started to affect Teresa. Jackie and I had become really close by now and were seeing each other as often as we could. Jackie’s granny was my auntie Joey’s mother’s best pal and the old woman had told Jac’s gran that I was a married man. Jac’s mother knew the turmoil we were going through and although she told Jackie to stop seeing me I think she knew it was never going to happen. What could she do? She couldn’t keep her in at her age! She told me if I needed a place to stay I could stay at their house. On Thursday the band had a double booking at Walkers and the Nash. After the Walkers’ gig Jackie and I went to the Met for a snack before going to the Nash. As we were drinking our coffee Lorraine walked through the door with Teresa in her arms screaming at us both. The whole place was up in arms and Mrs. P managed to calm her down and we all went outside. As soon as we were outside Lorraine pushed the baby into my arms and started to fight with Jackie. The scene was unreal with me trying to restrain Lorraine with one hand and hold onto Teresa with the other. Jackie walked away in the cold night air with no coat on. I bundled Lorraine into the car and told one of the roadies to tell the guys I wouldn’t be playing at the Nash and could they try and get a replacement drummer. All the way back to the flat she cried and I was on a downer myself. How could I do this I asked myself and the more I apologised the louder she cried. I told her I would never see Jackie again and her tears subsided. I called Jackie the following day and said that I couldn’t see her again as it was really against my nature to behave like this. She was upset and said she loved me and it was hard to put the phone down. Things weren’t going that great with the band either as we were not rehearsing much, started looking shabby on stage, arguments were creeping in but we were still busy. One Friday night at midnight I was sitting ready to play with a hall filled with people and no sign of the other three. Jimmy Roccio the club’s owner/manager came to the stage and started to shout at me in broken English. “Where is the rest of this a Warren a Davis?” he asked. I just shrugged my shoulders and he walked away. Five minutes later Charlie walks in and he looks like he just got out of bed. Alec and Rab came in about ten minutes after him and started to tune up. Alec’s bass guitar was never in tune. We started about 20 minutes late. We were half-way through the number when Charlie broke two strings on his guitar. I told him to change them but he shook his head and didn’t bother. He played the next four numbers with four strings on his guitar instead of six. That was enough for me. I came off the stage and into the band room and said I would come back on when Charlie put the strings on his guitar. Unbelievably they played on without me and Charlie never put the new strings on his guitar! I thought to myself that there was no pride left in this band. They came off at the end of the evening. There was only a few people in the club when it used to be packed, when we did our last number. I told them I had lost faith in the band and I was leaving and none of them tried to dissuade me. About a week later I met a guy who stayed beside me in the flats. His name was Ian McGregor. Everybody called him “Big Mac” and he was a very likeable guy who played lead guitar and had a country and western duo and they were looking for a drummer. I said I would play with them and they had plenty of gigs all around town and I was needing the money. Mac’s partner Gordon was a great country and western singer and a bit of a comedian as well so it was good fun. But the drumming side of things was boring. I used to put in Latin American beats to try and spice it up and they would get angry with me so I had to revert to the country and western way. I had started going out with Jackie again and I think Lorraine knew it. One night after a gig Jackie told me she was pregnant and I thought it couldn’t get any worse. When I went home that night Lorraine started the usual argument and she started going on about Jackie. “You’re still seeing her aren’t you?” she screamed. I told her I was and she said, “is she pregnant or something?”. I said yes and she calmly pulled a suitcase from the cupboard which was already packed, grabbed Teresa and walked out of the door. There was an eerie silence in the flat. I couldn’t remember when it was so quiet. I slept like a log that night. The next day I called Jackie and told her what had happened. She said she was sorry but I am sure deep down she was delighted. I wasn’t sure what happened next, i.e. how I was going to see my daughter, where they were going to live, etc. I received a letter from a lawyer about a week later saying she was suing for divorce and wanted to claim £15 per week in alimony payment. This was ludicrous as I was earning £19 per week at the time. Jackie worked in an office at the time and was able to put me in touch with a lawyer who specialised in divorce. His name was Alistair Brownlie, a real gentleman who was superb at his job. He said I had to get a some kind of form signed by the Crown in order to stop the £15 payments going through and it would cost me £10 (I think) for the form. I duly did this and eventually the weekly alimony payments went down to £4 per week. It was good for everyone all round that this had happened as we could all get on with our lives and I was able to see Teresa every week. Lorraine eventually met an accountant, much older than herself and got married again and they had a happy life together. After all this turmoil at home Jackie eventually moved in with me and I decided to give up playing and sell my drums. I sold them for half of what I had paid for them and it was one of the saddest moments of my life. I returned to a normal type of life, working, going out to friends’ houses, watching television. It had been six months since I had left the Warren Davis Band. One evening I was watching tv, Jackie was visiting a friend when a knock came to the door. I was surprised to see Rab, Charlie and Alec standing there. They told me their drummer (who was a guy called Jim Gray who later became a Director of Hibs FC) was on holiday and would I stand in for him for a couple of weeks. I tried to act nonchalant about it all but my whole being came alive at that point and I said yes. The band said I could use Jim’s drums and start on Friday at the Nash. I got a good welcome from the fans at the Nash and I think the band were trying to prove something as they played tremendously that night. The Saturday night was a new venue as Walkers had started doing Discos and didn’t use bands any more. The new residency was the Ferry Boat in the Drylaw area of Edinburgh. A tough part of town but the place was jumping at the weekend and very rarely was there any trouble as nobody wanted to get barred. The Ferry Boat had three doormen who everyone knew you must didn’t mess with. The hall upstairs was like a nightclub venue and there was cabaret every other week with backing from the Warren Davis Band (us). With our jobs and a couple of gigs during the week we were still one of the hardest working bands in Edinburgh. After we played our last gig of the fortnight the band said they wanted me to come back for good and I was over the moon but I said to them what would I do for drums? Charlie said Jim Gray was planning to leave in a couple of months anyway and he said if I started right away I could use his kit until I could get one of my own. I was floating. I was returning to my way of life but I would have to tell Jackie first. She took the news in her stride although she must have had reservations. She always backed me all the way. The best thing I ever did was to marry Jackie Ogilvie as she always encouraged me and never once complained about my playing. She was and still is beautiful, intelligent, resourceful, tactful and always immaculate in her dress. I don’t know what she ever saw in me! The first week I started back with the band Jackie was taken into the Western General hospital to have the baby. She was eight hours in labour and Lisa Jane Batten was born, weighing in at 6lb 8oz. I was in a daze when I made my way up to the Ferry Boat that night as I was with Jackie every minute. The crowd really took to me and when Charlie announced that I had just become a father everyone was buying me drinks. I was hardly able to sit on my drum stool by the end of the evening. All the roadies, the band and hangers on came back to my flat to wet the baby’s head and we certainly did just that. We started to play the Ferry Boat on a Saturday afternoon and it was a good gig. Along the road there was The Bird Cage open on Saturday afternoon and they had a tremendous cabaret-type band, with a singer who had a nightclub type of voice. His name was Joss Munro and the place was always busy. But so was the Ferry Boat. We had a charismatic comedian called Happy Howden appearing with us on Saturdays so we really started competing with the Bird Cage. We enjoyed a lot of success at the Ferry Boat although they started doing cabaret on a Friday night and we liked to play for dancing so this curtailed it somewhat. We used to rehearse on a Thursday in the Ferry Boat and one week Rab and I turned up to find Alec and Charlie had taken their gear away. The manageress said they had taken it on Monday and had told her they were going to play with another band. I was devastated. The last time I had felt like this was when I split with Bruce and the Memphis Soul Band. Both Rab and I were in shock, especially me as I had just purchased a new drum kit a couple of weeks before. “Dirty bastards” I shouted out as loudly as I could. “I put my job on the line for Charlie Low when we played with the Memphis Soul Band” I screamed. The manageress was a nice woman and she liked me. “C’mon downstairs to the lounge for a cup of tea. It’ll make you feel a bit better” she said. She told us that she had already got another band for the upstairs lounge but maybe the two of us could play the downstairs lounge. She said there was no dancing but at least we could play our own stuff and we could get singers up from time to time. Rab said he could play the bass pedals on the organ and we could do the vocals between us. I said OK we’ll give it a shot. At least I would then be able to pay for my drums. We had only been playing a couple of weeks and suddenly the downstairs lounge was the place to be! This was years before the advent of karaoke but the number of people who wanted to get up and sing was unbelievable and we were becoming more efficient as a duo, and I was singing a lot more numbers with good harmonies from Rab. We had been playing downstairs now for about two months and one night I noticed a guy at the bar who never took his eyes off us for a minute. He was small and fat and he had a strange resemblance to Ronnie Corbett the comedian. At the end of the night he bought us a drink and said he was a bass player and would we mind if he came along with his gear and played with us, for nothing. Rab said he wouldn’t mind as it was a lot of work playing the keyboards, bass pedals and singing and I agreed as it wasn’t going to cost us anything anyway. The next week Tam Hamilton (the bass player) arrived with his equipment. A Fender precision bass, and a Fender baseman combo amp and boy, could he play! We sounded like a real band again. He looked odd as he would sit on his base speaker when he played and the crowd started calling him Little Jack Horner! We sounded that good that the band upstairs used to come down to listen to us. After about three weeks playing in the Ferry Boat I said to Rab we would started giving Tam wages and he immediately agreed.

Chapter 14 - The Warren Davis Trio.

Pretty soon we were playing all the hot lounges starting with a residency in the Marine Hotel on a Thursday, the Wayfarers in Penicuik, the Band Club in Broxburn, etc etc. One night playing in the Marine Hotel I noticed a familiar face in the audience and at the end of the evening I asked Rab if he recognised the guy. “It’s wee Jimmy Roccio” he said. I didn’t believe it at first as grey hair had overtaken the once black curls but it was him alright and we made our way to the back of the hall where Jimmy was sitting. Apart from the grey hair Jimmy had hardly changed. He was always enthusiastic about what he was doing and about us. “Ama startin ma olda club again” he said in his familiar Italian/Scottish accent and he wanted the Warren Davis back again playing. He told me Charlie was playing in a shit-house of a pub called the Marshall Arms in the Craigmillar area of Edinburgh so maybe we could persuade him to come in with us for the new club. I said I would try and I would let him know. Tam and Rab were keen and I said I would go and see Charlie. I went to the Marshall Arms and Charlie was playing there with a drummer. The place was busy but with all the wrong types. There were dodgy deals going on all over the place and fights a-plenty. I was standing at the bar when I heard a voice nearby. “Look at that ginger c—t at the bar. Let’s have him”. I put my pint on the bar to get ready for the onslaught when a voice said, “it’s big Rab. I used tae work beside him”. Turned out the guy worked beside me in Munrospun and was I glad to see him as there were about half a dozen in his gang and I didn’t fancy my chances., I finally spoke with Charlie and he agreed to come along the next week to the Nash. We had a gig on that night but we were finished at 11pm and the Nash job was at 12.30pm. When we arrived at the Nash there was a young band playing and they were terrific, full of energy and playing all the up-to-date chart stuff. We did one or two chart numbers but as we played in a lot of social clubs at that time we had to play mostly a lot of standard songs. Anyway the place was quite empty and Charlie didn’t know a lot of our songs and vice versa and we didn’t do ourselves justice. However Jimmy Roccio was keeping the faith with us and said he still wanted us as the resident band. I said I didn’t want to do it and Rab was with me although Tam was desperately wanting to play there. But it was two to one and we declined, Charlie, ever the survivor, got a drummer and bass player and had the job in the Nash for two years although it was mostly a cabaret type of venue. I had worked in the Munrospun factory for 12 years when I decided to change jobs. I started work in a prefabricating firm called CDW and a lot of the guys from the factory worked there also. We learned a tradesman’s job making shop-fronts, armour-plated doors, patio sliding units and aluminium windows. It was great and the conditions were brilliant. They all said “welcome to paradise” when I came through the door the first day and it was a happy time. My dad had a real problem with the drink and the whole family were doing their best for him. Jackie had returned to work in her same job in the West End and her mother looked after Lisa until we picked her up after work. It all worked out really well and we certainly owed Jackie’s mum and her dad a huge debt for doing this. But they loved Lisa as though she was their own daughter and Lisa seemed to brighten up their lives. I saw Teresa on a regular basis and her mother Lorraine and I started to talk to each other again. As I am writing this page it is Teresa’s 45th birthday today. Time really does fly! Our residency at the Marine Hotel was a real busy gig but the old keyboard of Rabs was getting past it. I was always talking to him about it but he always had his mind on girls and the keyboard got rejected. A lot of the keys were not functioning and when the whole thing broke down it went bananas. I told him if he didn’t have it fixed for next week, don’t bother showing up. Next week arrived and Rab didn’t show and the manageress of the Hotel showed us the door. I was hurt. I couldn’t believe that we had come through the break up of the Warren Davis Band to playing as a duo, adding Tam the bass player and amalgamating all these gigs together and we had come to this. I thought it couldn’t get any worse and that this was to be the end. Jackie and I were married by this time and we started to plan a real life together as we hadn’t had one before now.

Chapter 15 - The Jim Baird Band.

About a fortnight after Rab had finished I received a phone call from Tam. He said there was a singer and guitarist playing at our old residency the Band Club in Broxburn and they were looking for a bass guitarist and a drummer and would I be interested? Interested – I nearly bit his hand off!! I was already having withdrawal symptoms. The band club was a small place but had bags of atmosphere. Tam and I were well known there and Jim Baird the singer and Kenny the guitarist were also well known although most of the stuff they had been doing was Scottish country dance stuff, Jim’s brother played the transicord and had died, so this was a real challenge for them to change to the pop scene. Jim was a great singer and he quickly adapted to the different style. Kenny too seemed to relish the music and it was refreshing to see how keen they were. We played all over West Lothian and had four residencies – the Band Club, Winchburgh British Legion, Harthill Miners and Whitburn Miners. We also played at dances, weddings. It wasn’t the Memphis Soul Band or the Warren Davis Band but it was exciting to see how these two guys made the commitment. This lasted for six or seven months then Tam said he had to pack it in as he had lots of commitments at work. He was a highly intelligent person who worked in computers and it was understandable. Tam Hamilton was a great bass guitarist and an absolute gentleman. Kenny said he could play bass if we could get a keyboard and I said I would ask Rab Hughes if he wanted to play with us. I called Rab the following day and he was over the moon, He said he had new keyboards so I suggested a rehearsal. It really worked well. Kenny was a great harmony singer and Rab was even better so we had a powerful vocal sound. It had worked out perfectly. One Thursday night after rehearsals Tab and I popped into a pub in Dalry Road on the way home. There was a band playing and the band singer was none other than Jimmy Scott. They were a five piece and pretty powerful. Jimmy came over and spoke to us and said he played there on a Thursday and Friday but couldn’t play the following Thursday and he was looking for a band to fill in for them. I said we would do it but Rab said he wasn’t sure as Jimmy’s band was a bit on the heavy side, music-wise. We were a middle of the road type band. A week later we were playing at the pub. It was a real busy place and was owned by a famous golfer called Eric Brown. Jim and Kenny were really nervous as they hadn’t played in this type of venue before but after the first number Jim’s voice won them over. In fact the whole night was a success and after we played the last number Eric Brown said he wanted us to play every Thursday and Friday in place of Jimmy Scott’s band. I think this was a great achievement at that time and especially with two guys that had never played in a pop band in their lives. Rab said he didn’t think Jimmy would be happy about this and I said he must have a short memory about Jimmy with the Warren Davis Band. Rab just nodded. (I finally got the PA system back from Jimmy Scott when he returned from Switzerland. Jimmy Clinkscale never got a penny piece from Jimmy nor myself and he took it back without any complaints. Thank you Jimmy Clinkscale. You were indeed a gentleman). Jimmy Scott was indeed angry at the fact that we took his residency but he knew better than to confront me about it,. We had been playing with Jim’s band for about a year and we had a superb Saturday night venue at Winchburgh British Legion Club near Kirkliston. It was a huge club like the Palais de Danse and very modern with a big stage and big audiences. It also did cabaret which we had to back and although Rab couldn’t sight-read, he coped tremendously well. I thoroughly revelled in it. Jim Baird had one problem. He liked a good drink and it was starting to get on my nerves. One week after we had been playing for half an hour he put his mike on the stand and went to the bar. He never came back until the start of the second half and when he picked up his mike I asked him what he was doing. “I’m singing” he said. “Not with this band” I told him. He wasn’t shocked or upset. He just replaced the mike on the stand and went back to the bar. We carried on with the gig taking turns at the singing. At the end of the night the crowd gave us a standing ovation and Kenny said “we didn’t need him boys” and that was the end of Jim Baird. I thought it was a terrible waste of talent as he was a terrific singer. It took us about six weeks to become a tight-knit trio and we were on our way. A couple of months down the line I got a phone call out of the blue from Charlie Low of all people. He said that he had heard that Kenny Robertson had tried to kill himself and was in the Andrew Duncan Clinic (now the Royal Edinburgh Hospital) and would I go with him to visit Kenny. I learned pretty quickly that you should never hold a grudge in show biz as you never knew when you were going to have to work with them again so any animosity I had had with Charlie and Kenny went right out of the window. Kenny Robertson was a great bass player and played with a lot of great bands. His only downfall as far as I could see was that he acted like a spoiled child and he was always throwing the toys out of the pram so-to-speak. Charlie and I made our way to the ADC. It was a gloomy place with inmates suffering from alcoholism, mental health issues and various other illnesses. When we walked into the place I heard a voice shouting “how are you doing big man?” I looked up and there was Kenny on one of the balconies waving to us to come up. We didn’t know what to expect but when we got up to him we were surprised because he looked ok to us and he started to converse with us. He took us to his room and locked the door behind us. He said “sshh, don’t make a sound. They’re trying to steal my car”. I asked him what kind of car he had and he opened a drawer and took out a model Dinky car. “This is it” he said proudly. Charlie just about collapsed in a heap. He then took out a tin of polish and started to polish the floor with it. I told him that it was the wrong kind of polish to use and he got very upset. He was on the verge of tears and he said he would need to get some floor polish. We stayed with him for about an hour and said we would have to leave and he said he would come downstairs with us. When we got to the exit door at the bottom of the stairs Kenny started to go out with us. I told him to go back but he said he was allowed out for half an hour and he needed to get some polish for the floor. The guy at the front desk said this was true as long as we had him back within the hour. We went to the shops and in the first shop Kenny bought a shoe horn, a comb, an old wallet, a cup and saucer. I think in total it came to about £2 or £3. Kenny put his hand in his pocket, brought out a five pence coin and gave it to the shop-keeper. He then walked out of the shop. I winked at the man and paid for the stuff and we left. The next shop we went into he bought an old umbrella, a pair of knitting pins and a small tin of polish all for £1.20. I paid for the items again. When we came outside the shop Charlie said we had better take him back as he was going to bankrupt me. The funny thing is that we both agreed that day that whatever had happened to him, he was definitely a better person personality wise than he had been even though he was simpler of mind and not saying the right things. It was a real shame as Kenny was definitely one of the best musicians I had ever heard or played with and to my knowledge, he never played with another band again. After we left the hospital we decided to go for a drink. I think Charlie was pretty shaken up when he saw Kenny and I didn’t think he would have taken it so bad. We had a couple of drinks and I asked Charlie what he had been doing band-wise and to my surprise he said he hadn’t been playing for a couple of months. I asked him if he would like to play with us and he said yes. I didn’t have to convince Rab of Kenny about Charlie as they knew him and were delighted. Charlie quickly got into the way of the band again and once again we were back to four singers but this time, Charlie was the lead singer. Charlie never ever thought he was a good singer but even in the days of The Memphis Soul Band he would sing a couple of songs and I used to push him to sing more but he wouldn’t. He could easily sing all his songs in the written key and that made a big difference in the authenticity of the songs, we were doing more gigs in Edinburgh now and Charlie got us a gig at our old residency, The Ferry Boat. It was a publicans’ dance and Charlie reckoned we would get a lot of jobs from it so it was a go. The Ferry Boat hadn’t changed a lot but the clientele had. Everyone was dressed up for the occasion and the punters we used to get went the other way. It was a great night out and at the end of the night a guy approached us introducing himself as Mr. Brown, a big shot apparently from Tennents Breweries. I recognised the guy standing next to him as John McHenry, my dad’s next door neighbour’s son who was ages with myself. Mr. Brown explained that the company had just acquired a pub down the road from The Ferry Boat called The Gunner and they would be delighted if we would play Friday, Saturday, Sunday nights as the resident band at the venue. The place was an absolute dump but Brown promised it would be done up to a high standard and he would guarantee there would be no trouble whatsoever as he would get a security firm in to sort this out. The money was tremendous so we said OK. There was a huge upstairs lounge in the gunner with a big stage, lighting, etc., and the bar was at the other end of the hall. By the time we started the residency the place had been given a good makeover and was looking really nice. They made the upstairs lounge a sort of a club and it worked great in the whole time I played there. I didn’t see any fighting or even a disturbance s no one wanted to get barred from the place. It was still a rough and ready crowd but they really appreciated us and we were like stars in the place. We had played in the Gunner for about a year when one night a visitor walked in. His name was Joss Munro who was the singer with the band at The Birdcage which was just along the road from The Ferry Boat. Charlie was talking to him when I came up to the bar. “ Joss wants us to play with him at the Birdcage” Charlie said. “We’re doing ok here pal”, I replied. Charlie went on to say that we would only be playing for two nights and we would get more money than we were getting for three nights at The Ferry Boat. Also it was a much better, bigger and more elaborate place than the Gunner. I wasn’t for it but the other two were and I was out-voted. So it was The Birdcage and it was a big mistake. The Birdcage was about four times the size of The Gunner. In its heyday it was open every night with the band on, and Saturday and Sunday in the afternoons too. But its heyday had gone. The first Saturday we played the place was only half full and half of the night was taken up with cabaret. It wasn’t even good cabaret. The programme was that we went on first for about an hour and a half, then it was chicken in a basket time for about half an hour then Joss came on with the band for the first half. Joss was a good singer but he was a Neil Diamond, Tony Christie, Kenny Rodgers ballad-type of vocalist and I reckon he would have been better coming on at the start of the evening as the last hour was for the crowd and we played the disco kind of music which the Warren Davis were doing at that time. I told him this but he said that was the way Dick who was the manager wanted it and it was vetoed. We played in the place for about four months then one Thursday afternoon I was in the lounge fixing a couple of new skins on my drums when Dick came storming up to me. He was effing and blinding at me and I just waited until he stopped. He was a burly, small, bad-mannered, ignorant individual and I was a young strong guy who didn’t take any shit from anyone. We didn’t come to blows but I think he got the message from me. Saturday night came round and we were sitting in the band room. I told the lads I thought we might get the sack tonight. Charlie said no, we would be there for at least five years. Sitting in the band room at the end of the night and Joss handed us our wages with the words “you’re all paid off tonight” then walked out. I was glad. I never ever felt we were part of the place and I think everyone except Charlie felt the same. He was devastated and announced that he was quitting the band. I was downhearted but managed to talk Rab and Kenny into carrying on.

Chapter 16 - The Warren Davis Trio (different line-up)

great residency at the Abercorn Inn in Edinburgh plus gigs in West Lothian. One night at the Abercorn we were waiting for Rab to arrive and it wasn’t normal for him to be We quickly got into the swing of things again and started to accumulate gigs with a late. He was always there first. He came in about 20 minutes later and starting pacing the floor. That wasn’t like him either as he was a very laid-back type of guy. I asked him what was wrong and he didn’t say anything. He just held up his two hands and showed me his two bandaged wrists and started to cry hysterically. I managed to calm him down and he told me his wife had thrown him out and had found herself another guy. He couldn’t handle it so he cut his wrists and put a hose into the car exhaust and into his car. He was lucky as he was up a side street and a young policeman heard the car ticking over and went to investigate. There was no doubt the policeman saved his life. He had just come out of the Andrew Duncan Clinic that afternoon. I’ll give Rab his due. He went ahead with the gig that night and never got a thing wrong. As he had nowhere to go I took him home with me. My wife Jackie wasn’t too pleased at first but he had nowhere else to go and although I didn’t know it at the time, we were about to become real friends after all those years. I couldn’t blame Rab’s wife for what happened as Rab was a serial womaniser and never tried to hide it, even from his wife at times. He always went away with a girl at the end of the gigs and his wife put up with it for about ten years. They had a son, and Rab named him Warren Davis Hughes, after the band. He could not come to terms with the fact that his wife had fallen for a little fat baldy motor mechanic and it was a hard journey for him. However I took him to the Samaritans, the church, etc and never really let him out of my sight and although he tried everything in his power to get his wife back he failed. He stayed with us for about six weeks and then Kenny took him to Broxburn to stay with him for about three months until he got a house in Penicuik just outside Edinburgh. This settled him down and he started acting normal again except for the fact that he didn’t go near a girl for a long time. We did the Abercorn for quite a while until one night we turned up and the place was closed. The manager had been fiddling the barrelage and had been found out so they closed the doors for refurbishment but it never opened up again. Kenny decided to call it a day as his wife was complaining about not seeing him and he had three kids. So he quit.

Chapter 17 – King Video.

So Rab and I were back where we started – as a duo so we decided to take on two resident jobs which were social clubs, and settled into them well. One was a railway social club and one night when we were playing a familiar face walked in. It was a guy who was in my class at primary school and his name was Gerry Mearns. He bought us a drink and I said I would give him a lift home. What a surprise I got when he said he had just moved in next door to me in the flats. Gerry, his wife Eleanor and their two daughters soon became friends with us and we were in each other’s houses regularly. One evening Gerry came to my door and asked me to give him a lift down to the Stockbridge area of Edinburgh. On the way there he told me he was going to buy video tapes from a guy who had a TV and radio repair shop. I didn’t know what he was talking about. There seemed to be three types of video tapes – VHS, Betamax and Phillips 2000 which was a double sided tape. Gerry then showed me a video recording machine and he put one of the tapes into it. It was Superman 2 which had just come into the cinemas. “You see this machine?” Gerry said. “Everyone will have one in a couple of years”. He said he would rent a film out for £2 per night and charge £30 for a membership. I was excited. He said he had rented a small shop in the Piershill area and would I help him to get it ready. The shop already had a counter so we utilised every bit of wall space for shelving for then tapes. As there wasn’t a lot of interest in the Phillips 2000 space Gerry dumped them which reduced the stock to 120 tapes. We put posters up and a sign which read “£2 per night, £3 for 2 nights, £4.50 for 3 nights and he was set to open up on Saturday morning. I was playing at the club on Friday night and I didn’t surface until about 3pm on the Saturday. By the time I had myself dressed and had something to eat it was already 4pm. I phoned Gerry to see how he was doing with the shop. “It’s a blue doo Rab”. I haven’t taken one member” he said despondently. I said that maybe the deal was wrong and that probably people in that area had a video recorder when a lot of them didn’t even have a carpet on the floor. “Make it a free membership and take a photograph of them and ask them for I.D.” I said. “Forget the £40 membership and you’ll get customers”. I said I would ring him on Sunday as I had another club gig that night. Sunday morning was much the same as Saturday and it was about 4pm when I came alive to the world. My phone rang and it was Gerry. He sounded excited and told me he had taken 53 members and all the tapes had been rented out. Then he started to sing “happy days are here again”! he asked if I could come down to the shop to see him and I said sure I would be there in about 20 minutes. When I arrived Gerry was throwing pound notes up in the air like he had just won the pools. He told me all the tapes had been rented by about 2pm and he could have done the same again if he had had more. He asked me if I would come in with him and I said how much would I need. He reckoned about £2,000. I knew this business was going to take off so I said I would go to my bank. I made an appointment to see the bank manager and he asked me how much was in my account. I said about £300 and he said that at a push he could give me £600 which made it £900. I was as sick as a parrot. I tried several other avenues and still no joy. I was getting desperate. I couldn’t eat, sleep or function properly of thinking about it. My wife Jackie came home one night and said that as her salary was paid into the bank directly she had made an appointment and gone to see the bank manager. He had agreed to give her the £2000. I was doing somersaults. I phoned Gerry and he said he would come in and see me when he got home. He was delighted when I told him and we shook hands on the partnership. He said the first thing to do was to buy more tapes with the £2000 and then get ourselves an accountant. There was only one place you could buy videotapes from at that time and it was in Poole in Dorset. Gerry said he would make the journey with his wife in his old Vauxhall van and they would make a weekend of it. I would run the shop with my dad who was working there too. We had now taken 200 members so all the tapes went out all the time and people were being disappointed. It was lucky for us that there was only two video shops in Edinburgh at that time and the second one was at the other end of the town. I was already thinking ahead. Maybe this shop was going to be too small. Gerry came back with £2000 worth of great movies and they all continued to go out every night. We couldn’t go wrong. The next step was for us to find a reliable accountant. Our solicitor Brian Warner recommended Dalgliesh & Tullo, a firm situated in Rutland Square, Edinburgh and the man to see was a Mr. Laurie Stewart. Laurie Stewart was a dead ringer for the actor Anthony Hopkins who played Hannibal Lecter in the Silence of the Lambs movies. He was an absolute gentleman with whom I had an excellent relationship and would continue to have in my various ventures in the coming years. He was very deliberate and explained everything about business to us. I don’t think we took everything in but the seed was planted with me and I knew I would be guided by this man in everything to do with business. Gerry reckoned we should buy a new car between us through the business and I went along with it. Gerry had a broken-down old banger of a van which was always in a mess with plaster, cement, etc and it had to have a push before it would start. I had an old automatic Volvo which was in great nick so we decided to put them up as a deposit. We went to the local Volvo dealer and he said he would give us £900 on the two vehicles which would be the deposit on the new Volvo. I said to Gerry that the firm would have to pay me some compensation as the Volvo would have fetched a lot more than his rickety old van. He wasn’t having it so I asked the sales manager at Volvo how he worked out the price of the two vehicles. “£850 for the Volvo and £50 for the van” he said, “and the van will be scrapped”. I told Gerry I would take £200 back from the firm and I would take it in instalments. He reluctantly agreed. He said we would have to work out who had the car and when and I told him I needed it at the weekend for my gigs so he said he would use it during the week, to his work and I agreed. Gerry worked as a plasterer and within a couple of weeks the car was in almost the same condition as his broken down old van – covered in cement and plaster. My dad and Gerry’s wife were working in the shop by this time and everything was going great. Gerry said to me one day we were going to have to give up our jobs and go into the business full-time and I had to agree. We both handed in our notice. Gerry said at the outset his wife Eleanor would pay all the bills and that way we would be keeping our heads above water all the time. I readily agreed to that. I seemed to be agreeing to everything most of the time. It was the middle of the summer and we really needed a lot more stock so I said that Jackie and I would make the trip down to Poole to Video Unlimited. They had a great deal at the time. If you gave them an old video tape and £5, they would give you a new one. I had 100+ old films with me and the cheque b book to pay for the new ones. It was a lovely journey all the way down to Dorset. We booked into a small hotel that night and got up nice and early next morning fresh for the buying spree. Video Unlimited was a warehouse and they sold everything to do with the video business. It would be fair to say they had the monopoly at that time in Scotland and in England. When we arrived at the building we made ourselves known then for the next couple of hours immersed ourselves in buying 100+ new video films. It was great because apart from the films we got posters, shelving, plastic cases, etc and when we thought we had everything we returned to the counter to pay our bill. “120 tapes” the friendly guy at the desk said. “That’ll be £600” he added. I took out the cheque book with King Video printed on the front (as that was what we had decided to call the shop – King Video). I wrote out a cheque and presented it to the guy. “There’s still an outstanding bill to be paid” he said a bit nervously. I asked how much it was for and he said £1200. Jackie was utterly embarrassed but I just asked him calmly if I could use his telephone. I phoned the shop and Gerry’s wife answered. I asked her if we still had an unpaid bill for Video Unlimited and she said “I don’t know. Maybe we do and maybe we don’t”. I said calmly “OK Eleanor” and hung up the phone. I pulled out the cheque book again and paid the guy the £1200 and we left the building. I was furious. I told Jackie that we only had £1000 in the bank and that included the overdraft. I was going to have to speak to the bank manager first thing on Monday morning. I did a lot of thinking on the way home. I realised that I was letting Gerry have all the say in the business without much input from me as he had been in business before and he talked a good talk. But this incident told me that I was going to have to find out everything I could about running a business successfully and I had to start putting my opinions forward. I called to see the bank manager on the Monday morning and said that the type of business we were running had to be run on a bigger overdraft and he asked me how much. I bit my lip and said £3000. He immediately said yes. I felt a sense of achievement. I then went to the shop and asked Eleanor where the cheque book was and she said it was in the drawer under the till. I took it from the drawer under the till and put it in my pocket. “Gerry said it was to be kept in the drawer” she said. “Gerry’s not the sole owner of this business. He has a partner – me” I said angrily and walked out of the shop. I returned later in the afternoon and Gerry was in the shop. “What’s going on Rab?” he said. So I pointed to the back shop and we both went through the door. “I’ve never been so fucking embarrassed in my life down in Dorset” I said. “in future I pay the bills or you pay the bills but no one else, do you understand?”. Gerry was stunned to silence. He had never heard me like this before and didn’t know what to say. “We can’t keep things from each other especially when it involves the business” I said and he just nodded. I left the shop then and everything seemed to be back to normal the next day. A few weeks later Jackie, Dad, my sister Jean and her son Michael, our daughter Lisa and myself all went to Florida and Miami Beach on holiday and my nephew Willie was standing in for me at the shop as he knew what to do since he had helped out before. I told Rab I was going to have to pack in the band as everything was getting a bit hectic. He said that he needed a break from it too so we split. The week before we were going on holiday, Gerry and I had been to view a shop in Tranent in East Lothian and had offered to lease it from the owner. He really wanted to sell the shop but he said he would think about it and let us know. Gerry and my nephew William both run us all to the airport in their cars and we said our fond farewells and left for America. I thought it was stressful running a shop. I was trying to please everyone on holiday but was failing miserably. My dad was inebriated most of the time and Jean and Jackie were sometimes short with the kids. One person wanted to do this and one person wanted to do that and my Dad didn’t want to do anything but drink. One day we decided to go to a bowling alley so we asked the guy at the front desk in the hotel to call us a taxi. He said we would need two cabs and he promptly ordered them. Dad, Michael and Jean went in one cab and Jackie, Lisa and myself went in the other. Dad’s cab left before ours but when we arrived at the bowling alley they were nowhere to be seen. I asked our driver if he could contact the other cab and he got on the radio. It turned out there were two bowling alleys in the place and they were at one and we were at the other. Another time we were in a restaurant and I noticed that whenever everyone had finished their meals a black guy came along and cleared the table which was a great idea as it kept the place running efficiently and people could be seated quicker that way. After we had paid the bill and were outside on the sidewalk my dad announced that he had left his false teeth on the table in the restaurant. I rushed back in to see the big guy with the huge trolley walking away from our table. I told him about Dad’s teeth and the guy said “no problem” and proceed to take the trolley out the back of the restaurant and empty it onto a huge rubber sheet on the ground. It was horrendous and the guy went through everything that had been on the table with a pair of plastic gloves on his hands. When he couldn’t find anything I thanked him for his trouble, gave him a few bucks and made my way out to the street. When I arrived there Jean my sister was standing with Dad’s teeth wrapped in a serviette in her hand. She had them in her handbag all the time and had forgotten about them! I can laugh about it now but it wasn’t funny at the time as there was a lot of tension building up. One morning I got up and went for a dip in the pool. There were three or four English guys who had befriended my Dad and I asked them if they had seen him. One of them said he was away to the local store to get a bag of ice for his beer. The temperature was about 110 degrees and there were about four or five ice making machines round the pool. It was about one and a half miles to the local store and we were all falling about laughing when Dad came back dragging a bag of water (which had been ice when he left the shop but it had all melted)! My Dad now always had a drink in his hand and one day I took him on a pub crawl as the girls were away shopping with the kids. There were several pubs in Miami Beach at that time and we were in every one of them. It was hotter than ever that day and when we came out the last bar my head started to go round and round. I wakened up at 8 o’clock next morning not knowing how I got back to the hotel. The first person I saw in the morning was my Dad, with a large glass of whisky in his hand. A couple of days later I opened the curtains and saw my dad on the beach with a black couple. He was in great conversation with them and had given them a can of beer each from his stash under the sand and he was laughing and joking. I told Jean and Jackie and they said just to leave him as he was enjoying himself and we would be back in a couple of hours. We were gone for four hours and when we returned Dad was still talking to the couple. Jackie said “I’d better go and get him” as he hadn’t had anything to eat and it was absolutely burning hot. As we drew nearer to them dad said “come and meet these people son. They’re from Cuba”. I shook hands with them couple and Dad said, “oh, by the way, they don’t speak English”. I couldn’t believe it. Old Rab had been sitting there for four hours and they couldn’t speak English but he had been communicating with them somehow and he was good at that. My old man never failed to amaze me throughout his life. After my mother died he was only half a man because the light had gone out of his life but he was still twice the man I’ll ever be and anyone else for that matter. We had some good times, bad times, arguments, tears and we fell out regularly and made up but we certainly talked about that holiday for years to come. When we arrived back in Edinburgh my nephew William was picking us up. He had been covering for me in the video shop and I was eager to find out how everything had gone. He met us when we came through Customs and I was quick to ask him about the shop. He told me he didn’t know what had been happening as he said that Gerry was putting his own family in the shop while I was away. I was furious and I felt for Willie because he loved the shop and used to let us away on numerous occasions and sometimes didn’t get paid for it although he got paid in other ways I may add! As soon as I got back I knocked on Gerry’s door and Eleanor said he was in the shop. When I got there his brother-in-law was behind the counter and said Gerry was in the pub next door. On entering the pub I noticed Gerry was quite drunk and was sitting with a few of his cronies. The first thing he said was “have a drink Rab”. I told him I wanted to talk to him. “I’m having the car tonight. I’m taking my mates home” he said. “That’ll be right” I said and turned and walked outside. The Volvo was up a road at the side of the pub and as I had my own set of keys I took the car. I thought he would kill himself or someone else if he drove when he was drunk so I did him a favour. As I was going home later I noticed that a shop had opened up as a video store just down the road from our flat so I went inside to investigate. It was one of our customers, Graham, who owned the garage nearby and was expanding his business enterprise. Graham was a nice guy and he told me that Gerry had asked him to be his partner in the two shops. When Graham said “but what about Rab?” Gerry had said “don’t worry about Rab”. I knew from that moment that I had to look out for myself and it was the spur I needed. I told Gerry’s wife I would meet him in the Post Office Club the following day and impressed on her that he had better turn up. He did turn up for our meeting and started talking to me as if nothing had happened the day before. He then said he had good news. “The guy in Tranent has agreed to rent us the shop and I think you should staff it yourself and run it and I’ll run the other one but we’ll still be partners”. I was taken aback by this. I didn’t say all I wanted to say as I was excited by the prospect of the shop in Tranent. I said my dad would have to stay working in the Edinburgh shop until I was up and running but I was ok with that as long as we were still partners and we told each other what was happening in both shops. The next again Saturday I took possession of the shop keys in Tranent. It was a double shop with a walkthrough and it was very spacious. With the help of one or two locals I started to fit out the shop. We shelved all the walls and put in a counter. It had a large back room where we could keep the stock, tea and coffee facilities, table and chairs etc and a toilet. We put a till in, VHS and Betamax video recorders, a TV set and a rotating filing system for club members. A sign writer did a King Video sign on the two big doubled glazed windows out front and made a wooden sign which spanned across the top of the two shops and read “King Video, Proprietor: Robert Batten”. As we were outfitting the shop we were taking members and by Monday morning we had taken over 200. By Monday evening there was 300 so we decided to open on the Tuesday as my budget of £700 was about gone. Gerry had given me 100 VHS tapes and 100 Betamax tapes mostly older tapes that were not moving in the Edinburgh shop. I realised I was going to need help and I got a local lad to help me called Kenny on a part-time basis. My nephew William was a floor-layer and his apprenticeship was finished but he couldn’t get a job. He was at that time stacking shelves in Safeway. I walked into the store and Willie was on his knees at the end of an aisle with three cans of beans in his hand. I said, “put the beans down, Willie. You’re finished here. You’re working for me now”. That was one of the best decisions I ever made. The customers cleared the shelves of all the tapes Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday and we took new members on all of these days. I was meeting Gerry on Sunday night at 7pm (the Piershill shop closed at 6pm in those days) and when I arrived at the pub I could see had had a good drink in him. He asked me if I wanted a drink but I didn’t as I wanted to put the business in order first. I opened my ledger book which had all my outgoings and all the days’ takings and I felt a sense of pride when I showed him quite a good profit. “That’s good Rab. Now have a drink” he said. “Well, you’ve still to tell me what the takings were for the Piershill shop”. He started to tell me. “Eh, £200 on Monday, eh, umm,….”. That was as far as he got. “Is it no written down?” I said angrily. He said to the barmaid “Margaret, have ye got a pen?” he then picked up a beer mat and started to jot down figures. Well, that was enough for me. The beer mat and pen went up in the air and I took him by the lapels. “Is it you or me that’s the fucking idiot here?” I screamed into his face. At that moment half a dozen or so local guys stood up and I thought there was going to be a riot there and then. Gerry who miraculously seemed to have sobered up told them to sit down and everything was going to be OK. We decided to meet in the shop after closing time the following night and I said ok and walked out. When we met up the following evening he quickly said his piece first. He said he thought we should part company with me taking the Tranent shop and him keeping the Edinburgh shop. He would give me 100 tapes, a video, a TV and I could get the car if I wanted it. I agreed we should split but as it was a new business for me I couldn’t afford the car but I wanted half the payments back that had been paid to it. Also, any debts that were due at that time would have to be paid in full as I would be implicated if they were not. He was happy to agree and I was delighted as I could see the potential of my shop and I was getting away from him. It took me six months to get £100 out of him for the car and he owed me £750. I wrote the rest off to experience and it had been some experience. My wife Jackie who worked with lawyers advised me I should write to everyone we dealt with to say that I was no longer a partner or associated with Gerry Mearns i.e. lawyers, accountants, wholesalers, car company. It proved to be sound advice as it turned out. There were four of us opened the doors of King Video in Tranent on Tuesday morning. The beginning of a new day and a new era.

Chapter 18 – King Video, Tranent.

It was a good feeling to have my own business and my own family working there: my dad, my nephew, my sister and a local lad Kenny; all working together in this venture. Everyone wanted to know us, all the business people wanted to have a drink with us and the business grew. By the end of the week we had 400 members and they couldn’t get enough tapes. I didn’t fancy the prospect of going to Dorset again and I found that there was a firm in Glasgow who were wholesaling the video films. The place was called “Wynd Up Records” so we decided to go there and check it out. It was a great set up they had, not as huge as Video Unlimited but it was on our doorstep and that was the main thing. The guy who owned Wynd Up was Eddie Brown a Canadian and a real likeable chap. They had a huge video side so we opened an account with a credit limit of £3,000 with invoices to be paid at the end of the month. We took away £1,500 worth of tapes, Betamax and VHS, and had them processed and on our shelves the same night. The place went crazy. One woman who lived on a farm took 4 tapes out every night of the week and every person who came in took at least 2 tapes out. I had all the policemen in the area as members, plus lawyers, councillors, bank managers, publicans, etc. I had members from as far away as Berwick on Tweed, Duns and the Borders. The people of Tranent were brilliant to us and we quickly got to know most people in town especially William who integrated with the young people and was most influential in the success of the shop. Five weeks down the road and tragedy struck. We opened the door one Monday morning and found that the shop had been ransacked and all the VHS tapes had been stolen. I thought this was the end of the line for me when Willie reminded me that we did have insurance which covered everything in the shop. He then phoned up George Logan who was the Manager at Wynd Up and explained the situation. George immediately asked how many tapes we would need and I said about £10,000 worth. He said come through to Glasgow and get them. We phoned the police and the insurance company and everything was sweet. The insurance people said it would take about a week before we got the cheque so I phoned George and he said that would be fine. We closed the shop, drove to Glasgow, picked up about £8,000 worth of tapes and came back to Tranent to process them and get them out on the shelves so we could open again on Tuesday morning. A great sense of achievement was felt by all and we felt stronger for this experience. My sister and my father would open up in the morning Monday to Friday 8am to 12 noon and Willie and I took a night each 12 noon to 6pm. We also took alternate Saturdays and Sundays. It wasn’t until about five years later we started opening to 10pm. Young Kenny also worked at nights and the weekends. Willie knew everything about the video business after a few months and we had a large stock of tapes in the shop. Most people who came in only asked for what was new without having seen a lot of the older stock so Willie decided that we should put a board up with “Willie’s top 100” and he chose all the great movies that hadn’t been out for ages. This turned out to be a master stroke and most of the members looked at Willie’s selection before asking what was new. About a year and a half down the line we got rid of the Betamax section and used the small shop as an off-licence, ice cream parlour and confectionery and this was also a success. My dad did the banking every week for me on Wednesdays and Fridays and one day I decided to go with him to the bank as I had another errand to do in town. My dad told me that the teller in the bank was very grumpy if all the notes were not in the right order and facing the right way. He pointed the guy out to me and he was right, this was a real grumpy so-and-so. I took the notes from Dad and mixed them all up and when I handed over the money his face was tripping him. “Can you not put the notes in order?” he said abruptly. “No” I said, “I’m too busy making this money to put into your bank but if you can’t be bothered either, I’ll just close my account now and take my money elsewhere”. By this time the Teller’s face was bright red as everyone in the bank was listening to this altercation and he was rather lost for words. The Bank Manager who had heard all this took Dad and I into his office and offered us tea. He was full of apologies and I told him although I didn’t want to make trouble for the Teller it was off-putting for my Dad to have to endure this every time he came into the bank and he enjoyed doing the banking. After that, every time my Dad went into the bank, even if he was at the back of the queue the Teller always shouted “good afternoon Mr. Batten” to him. It gave my Dad a wee lift. The shop was a real hub for everyone especially at Christmas time. One year Dad, Willie and I dressed up in Santa outfits and when the first customer, a woman, came into the shop we all said “Merry Christmas!” She just looked past us and said “d’ye have One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest?”. We all fell about laughing. “That’s Tranent for you” said Kenny. We had drink on the counter for everyone but although there were about 40 people in the shop nobody was buying any tapes. They were all just there for the free drink! It was crazy. The four of us had booked to go for Christmas Dinner that day at the Tranmare Hotel but we took another six customers with us, Duncan Graham, Billy Christie, Neil Winton, John gilhooly, Richard Carr and a guy who came into the shop who was a driving instructor, Jimmy. I asked him about driving lessons for Willie. He said he would give Willie three driving lessons a week in exchange for two tapes a lesson. I agreed and eventually Willie passed his driving test. I bought a small van through the business for him and there was no stopping him. My wife also took lessons from him but by this time I think he was happy to get the free tapes and she felt she wasn’t learning anything from him. She eventually went to the BSM and passed her test there after only a few lessons. I became great friends with a guy called Iain Smith, a gem of a bloke who had a great tragedy in his life. He was walking in the Pentlands one day and he was bitten by an Adder. He panicked and started to run which made the poison go through his system even quicker and he collapsed unconscious. A couple had found him and he was taken to hospital but was seriously ill. The doctors had to remove his kidneys and he was put on a dialysis machine. He had two transplants which were not successful and eventually had to go on a dialysis machine for the rest of his life. His marriage had collapsed also. Poor Iain. But he never let anything get him down. He was able to get a machine in his house so didn’t have to go to hospital twice a week for his treatment. He made the best of his life and was always, helpful, respectful, courageous and a really nice guy. He was great father to his two children, a son and a daughter. The people of Tranent had such high regard for him that they had a dance at the Tranent Juniors Club with raffles, bingo, and donations to send him to Spain with his kids for a holiday. Just for good measure my Dad and I went along with them. It was a great holiday and there was a clinic opposite the hotel where Iain could go for his treatment twice a week. One night I took him to see a good friend of mine, Joss Munro, who was doing cabaret over there in one of the bars. Iain was having such a good time that he had a couple of beers and about an hour later his face just started to swell up. He told me he wasn’t supposed to drink beer. I quickly got us a taxi back to the hotel and Iain said not to worry as he was going on a dialysis machine in the morning. I got up in the morning and went over to the clinic and there was Iain with tubes going in and out of him and he told me it was his blood being cleaned. It was the weirdest colour of red I had ever seen and he had to do this for five hours twice a week. He was on this machine for ten years. He died from a brain haemorrhage about a year after the holiday. Iain Smith was a most excellent human being and a great Belter (a name for someone who is Tranent born and bred)! The shop went from strength to strength and I now had my old pal Tony working there and my other nephew, Michael, and two girls to serve the ice-cream and confectionery. It was all go.

Chapter 19 - Shout.

I was in Edinburgh one day and bumped into Charlie from The Warren Davis Band. We had quite a chat and he asked Jackie and I to his house that weekend for a few drinks with him and his wife Anna. This was Charlie’s second wife and they had three kids. His first wife also had three kids. We had a nice night as Anna and Jackie were good pals. I was itching to play again and I said it might be a good idea to start a “Beatles” tribute band. This was years before the Bootleg Beatles, Counterfeit Beatles, etc came into being. Charlie was interested and so we phoned Rab Hughes who was also interested. We got a bass player called Ronnie Brown who had played with Edinburgh bands The Wall Street Diversion and The Gibsons who could also play lead and was a good singer into the bargain. We had a couple of practices but it was clear that Charlie wasn’t really into it so he dropped out. Ronnie decided to play lead guitar and we recruited a guy called Tony Quinn who was a friend of Rab but could not sing a note so it was only three voices. We rehearsed six or seven times and became pretty tight as a unit. One day a guy called Bobby Colgan came into the shop for tapes. Bobby had a big lounge at the bottom of the High Street in Tranent and it was upstairs. I said to him did he fancy having a Beatles night in his place and he said what night. I said Thursday and he was OK with that. I told him I would make up a couple of posters and I would put one in my shop window, he could put one in his lounge and we would see him next Thursday. The guys were pretty excited when I told them about the gig, not nervous as we had all played in bands but this was a new venture for all of us. I told the guys to meet me at the shop on the night of the gig, we could have something to eat and coffee before we went down to the gig. We had set up our equipment in the afternoon so we didn’t have to be there too early. The night was due to kick off at 8pm so we left the shop at 7.30. We got halfway down the High Street when we came across a long queue and it snaked right down the street and upstairs to Bobby’s lounge which was already filling up. The atmosphere was already electric and by the time the boys were turning up the doors had to be closed on a lot of disappointed people. The whole evening just flew by and by the time Ronnie had finished the last number, Twist and Shout, the crowd was shouting for more. Bobby Colgan was beaming when he came over to us and said “how about playing every week Rab?” and the boys all nodded in agreement. So our first job together ended in a residency – not bad! We bought black short-sleeved shirts, black trousers and white shoes and certainly looked the part. Every Thursday night Bobby Colgan’s was packed by 6.30pm as it was the place to be on a Thursday night in Tranent. We were fairly busy after that – pubs, clubs, hotels, caravan parks, etc. I noticed as the weeks rolled in that Tony and Ronnie did a lot of drinking while playing and at the end of the gigs and I started to think they had a problem with it. We were playing one Sunday afternoon in a club in Gorgie in Edinburgh when Tony calmly announced that he was packing in the Beatles band and was going to play with a jazz band. It was a bombshell but I thought it might be a good idea because of the drink. We had to get a bass guitarist before Thursday and the right kind of guy too. My wife Jackie said there was a young guy in her office who was Beatles obsessed. He played bass guitar and his name was David Moss. This guy played all the instruments, guitar, bass, keyboards, electric piano. He was a great singer who loved everything about or associated with the Beatles! He couldn’t wait to play with us. Thursday at Bobby Colgan’s Davy absolutely excelled at everything and took the band to another level. We now had a four-part harmony and numbers like If I Fell, This Boy, She Loves You, Help and Mr. Postman were as close to the originals as they could possibly be. A few weeks later a guy walked into my shop and said he was a booking agent called Andy Green. He said he could give us a lot of work up and down the country as he had heard of our exploits in Tranent. He asked what the name of the band was and I said Shout. He gave us an initial gig in Torness Power Station Social Club the following week. Rab and Davy had a couple of girls with them and when we walked into the Social Club a guy said “sorry boys, no girls allowed. This is a men only club”. Davy said “well, you can stuff it then” and we all started to walk out. “Just a minute” the man said and they proceeded to have us wait while they had an emergency meeting of the Committee. The Chairman of the Committee said that they would make an exception this time and the gig would proceed. I wondered what it was going to be like as there were about 70 guys there and only two girls. However, we treated it like a cabaret show and went down really well. We got another two or three jobs from Andy Green but nothing great and then one day he phoned to say he wanted us to do a showcase. It was a night when a lot of different acts performed and a lot of different club owners and social club conveners came along to view them for potential work in their clubs, etc. It was a huge club in Fife and it was packed out that night. There was a long wait until we were on and I think the audience were getting a bit bored because of the large content. The MC then announced us and as soon as he said “a big hand for Shout” we crashed into Help, our first number. When we finished the song we got a standing ovation and it was the same when we did She Loves You and If I Fell. We had to do another number as an encore. We came off the stage as high as kites and I went over to Andy Green’s table to see what he thought. His daughter (who was the other exception to the “men only rule” was there too) was in a state of excitement. She kept saying, “tell him Dad, tell him”. Andy just sat there in silence. She was saying “give him a hint Dad”. He said he wouldn’t discuss business in the club but to come up to his office on Monday and we would talk but he would only say one thing – Blackpool. I went back to the band room and told the guys. Ronnie said it must be a summer season and we all started to plan ahead. The talk was of turning professional and everyone was going to have to make adjustments to their lives including me. I went to Musselburgh on Monday afternoon to see Andy Green. He had a small dingy office with a couple of phones on the desk and when I arrived he was on the phone. He never looked my way but kept on talking on the phone, “a score on the nose the 2 o’clock at Newcastle and £20 each way on number 4 in the 3 o’clock at Haydock” he said. Twenty minutes later my dander is getting up and I said to him “listen Andy, I’ve got to get back to my business”. “Aye, what were ye wantin son?” he asked picking up another phone. I reminded him that he had mentioned Blackpool at the Showcase and I was here to find out about it. He then went into a ramble about how it was too early to talk about Blackpool and how busy he was and that was enough for me. “you’ve been making bets with your bookie over the last half hour. That’s how fuckin’ busy you are” I shouted. “I’ve got 2,000 members on my books. Have you got 2,000 clubs on yours?” I then told him to stuff his jobs and walked out. I phoned the guys that night and they were all gutted. I said to them that maybe it was for the best as they might have packed their jobs in and this guy could have pulled out whenever he felt like it. Davy said he was disappointed but he knew another agent who would get us better jobs and better pay. The agency was called MK Agency (Mike Kean) and the man who run it was a different kettle of fish. He was an intelligent, professional, well-known agent. He started us off in the West of Scotland and the audience liked us and we went from strength to strength. We also still did the gig in Bobby Colgans and one night we had a load of Hell’s Angels in and there was a big fight. The place got wrecked and that was the end of the road for the music but it had been a most enjoyable residency and Bobby and his wife Alison were lovely people. We had been with Mike Kean now for a couple of months and I can honestly say that this was the happiest band I had ever played in. We were all just enjoying what we were doing. God bless the Beatles! We played in an old gym hall in Tullibody. It was mobbed and the crowd wouldn’t let us off the stage. The guy who was running the night said that if we played another half an hour he would give us another half of our fee so we readily agreed. We ran out of Beatles stuff to play so we started to play other 60s songs and it went down really well. After he had played the last number the crowd were shouting for more and we had virtually run out of songs to play. Davy said he knew all the words of “You’ll Never Walk Alone” by Gerry and the Pacemakers and we began the song. The next minute all hell broke loose and everyone was throwing things including chairs and a table. Even the guy in charge threw a pint at us so we retired to the band room. The guy in charge came rushing into the room and screamed “what did you play that for you fenian bastards?” Davy tried to calm him down and asked what was going on. He explained that it was a Celtic song and we were in a Rangers social club! Ronnie said, “oh, I thought it was a Gerry Marsden song”. It was the first time we had bombed since Shout started playing together although it was for all the wrong reasons. If we hadn’t played that song we would have been back! For the first time ever we came away from a gig on a real downer. Then Davy piped up, “by the way, I’m going down to Blackpool next Saturday and I won’t be able to play that night”. I said “you’re fucking joking Davy. Saturday night’s a big cabaret night for us and a real important gig”. “Well”, he said, “you’ll just have to get a stand-in for me that night”. He then got in his car and drove away. Considering he was the lead singer on most of the Beatles songs and his harmonies were important on the rest of the numbers we didn’t know and where were we going to get someone to sing and play his songs at such short notice? Can you imagine the Beatles putting in a substitute for Paul McCartney at short notice? We were driving back in my car and I started thinking – the van belongs to me, the PA system is mine, Ronnie’s gear was mine, I bought the clothes for the band and I drive them home in my car and then I get this from Davy? “Stuff this”. I thought we were all in this 100% but Davy just knocked the stuffing out of me that night so that was it finished as far as I was concerned. I regretted my decision for months after I had made it but I went through with it anyway. Davy Moss was a real talent, as good as Kenny Robertson on the bass but he could also play keyboards brilliantly. He was also a great vocalist. I didn’t see Davy for many years after that and when I did, I didn’t recognise him. He had put on weight and had lost a lot of his hair, a far cry from his pin up boy days! I loved Davy Moss.

Chapter 20 – Bobby’s Snooker.

I busied myself in the shop which was still doing well. My dad didn’t come to Tranent very much now as he was getting on and drinking all the time. One of my snooker pals called Bobby Sinclair came into the shop one day and we had a good chin-wag about old times. Bobby had been a singer in one or two bands on the Edinburgh scene, the Wall Street Diversion and The T-Set among them. He was a funny guy, always telling jokes. A group of us played snooker every Saturday morning at Vernon’s Snooker Hall in Leith, Bobby, George Whalen, Lex Miller, Peter Brown, Davy Moore, Billy Duncan and myself played in a prestigious tournament for the princely sum of £1! They were all proficient snooker players and it was indeed a feather in your cap if you won. I played in the tournament for about six months before I got good enough to win it. As I write this section I am the only one of the crowd still alive. Bobby came into the shop one day and said did I know the local British Legion Club was up for sale. I just shrugged my shoulders and asked him what about it. He said he thought it would make a great snooker club and we should go down and have a look at it. The place had been taken over by Asians and turned into a nightclub/disco. In Tranent they fight for fun and ultimately the police were never away from the place. Eventually the owners lost their licence and then mysteriously it went on fire. It was now basically a shell. In the main hall there was a concrete roof which was ok. There were five high windows along the left-hand side of the hall which were totally destroyed as was the bar area. A door at the side of the bar which led to a lounge was also completely destroyed. There were six large windows going across the lounge from the left side of the bar which were intact and behind the windows was a large lounge area which had a bar and everything was destroyed, except that roof, which was made of concrete. It looked like real daunting task but we were keen and started to do our sums. We approached one of the breweries and they promised us a £50,000 loan if we could come up with a viable plan. We then went to see the Asians who had a shop in the town. I knew the guy who owned it so I did most of the talking. He was very non-committal about it and said he would talk to his brother next week when he returned from holiday. Bobby was all for pushing him but I knew how these guys operated so we told him our offer and we left it there. The offer on the table was £30,000. I was going on holiday that week so I told Bobby to wait until I returned and then we would speak to the Asians again. When I returned from holiday I phoned Bobby right away. He said his lawyer had told him that the Asians still owed £28,000 on the property we were trying to buy so he had gone into their shop to try and close the deal and they had refused. He then blurted out that he knew they were still owing £28,000. Stupid, stupid! The Asians were really angry and told him – no deal – and promptly threw him out of the shop. I was absolutely furious! I went down to their shop to try and smooth things over. I apologised for Bobby’s behaviour and asked them what it would take to seal the bargain. One of them said that £50,000 would do it but they didn’t want to deal with Bobby – only me. I told him it was going to take a lot of money to develop the place and said we would go to £40,000 but that was the last offer. We shook hands on the deal and I said my lawyer would be in touch. I phoned Bobby and told him what I had offered and he was up in arms about the extra £10,000. I said it was his fault in the first place for bringing up the fact that they still owed £28,000, notwithstanding the fact that his lawyer could have got into trouble for telling him this in the first place. But I said if he didn’t want to do it I would tell them the deal was off. He thought about it and I told him that the Asians would only agree to deal with me. Not him. He reluctantly agreed to this. The next thing we had to do was to get plans drawn up for the proposed snooker centre. We approached Peter Brown one of our snooker plans as he was an architect and had already done a couple of jobs for Bobby. Peter was a brilliant guy. He set the place out with 10 snooker tables, two pool tables and two bars. The completed set up was an entrance hall, 5 ladies toilets, two gent’s toilets and a small office. Also, a huge kitchen with all facilities. Just before the entrance door to the main hall there was a right-turning into a corridor which ran parallel to the main hall right up to the bar area. The hall had all the destroyed windows blocked out and the whole place had been replastered to a great finish. There were 12 heaters sitting on the walls, 10 first-class snooker tables with a long bar at the top of the hall. There were also two full-sized American pool tables near the bar area. There were new double-glazed windows in the lounge with a cocktail bar and ladies and gents toilets. It looked pretty impressive and we decided to have a meeting with the local councillors to discuss the venture. Tam Ferguson was the local Labour councillor for Tranent at that time. Like a lot of guys in the town he had been a miner and well thought of and well known there. We met in the local pub and we showed him the plans. He was impressed but he always had his constituents in mind so he asked us a lot of questions. “It’s not going to be a disco?” he asked. We said it was first and foremost a snooker club but we would like to use the lounge for functions for club members. He said he didn’t see anything wrong with that and he didn’t think it would be any problem our getting a licence. We were over the moon and started phoning round workmen. We needed to get the ball rolling and have the place gutted and renovated. I got in touch with my old pal Tony and he came down and along with another couple of guys they filled 34 skips with all the rubbish. It was a massive job as the place was a real mess. It took them about three weeks. Next, Bobby got one of his mates who had a firm which did joinery, electrical and plumbing work and they also knocked out all the windows and did the plastering. Another one of his pals built two bars and all the furniture around the snooker tables. We purchased 10 tables from a well-known firm and within two months all we needed was tables and chairs for the lounge. We went out to Newbridge to a commercial furniture company and they had some great stuff but every time I showed Bobby something, he would say it was too expensive. I was slowly finding out that my partner was a bit miserable when it came to shelling out the readies. We were now a week away from opening and still no tables and chairs for the lounge. There were about 90 people invited to the Opening Party night – councillors, accountants, bank manager, police inspector, lawyer, family, friends, etc – what were we going to do for furniture? I was sitting in Meadowbank Snooker Club on the Monday before our club opened on the Friday when a voice called out to me – how are ye doin’ big man? It was Eddie Ramsay who was a pal of Bobby and myself and the owner of the club we were in. He said I was looking a bit down in the mouth and asked what was wrong? I told him about the dilemma with the tables and chairs and he said he was getting new furniture for his place and right away said we could have the ones he was using just now. Even better, he said he would get his man to deliver them. I was made up. The tables and chairs we were getting from Eddie were still in a new condition. The tables were green lacquered with snooker balls in angle print and with a gloss top, very colourful and green chairs. When I asked him how much he wanted for them he just said – forget it, and walked away. That was Eddie though. He was a kind guy and a nice guy into the bargain. Thank you Eddie Ramsay. If it wasn’t for you our party would never have happened never mind the opening of the club! I asked Eddie and his wife Alison to the party but he refused as his best pal Billy Duncan was going and they had fallen out over something and were not on speaking terms. It was sad because both of them were real nice guys. Came the night of the party and the place was looking magnificent. We had a lovely buffet set up courtesy of Bobby’s cousin and the two of us were dressed up with suits, bow ties, etc. We were having an exhibition match with Stephen Hendry and Tony Drago and it was costing £600 but at the last minute Hendry’s manager had phoned to say that as Stephen had got to his first big semi-final, the price had risen to £1,500. I told him to forget it. Instead we got two young under 17 amateur champions, Chris Small and Craig McGill vary who later became good professionals and they served up a brilliant three frames for the guests. It was a great night and we made a lot of friends in the right places that night too. Neither Bobby nor I had ever poured a pint or served a drink in our lives but by the end of that night we were professionals! The official opening was unbelievable. I think the whole of Tranent was there. Bobby was shaking with excitement and he turned to me and said “when do we buy the new cars?” I said we would see what happened in six months’ time. The first thing I noticed that day was that the place was noisy as the people in Tranent, especially the young people, didn’t just talk to each other. They shouted at each other. I told Bobby we were going to have to put up a few notices up with SILENCE written on them. I also suggested we put speakers up around the hall and get a microphone in the office to call people off the tables when their time was up. We had to limit people to two hours on the tables as we had such a high-numbered membership. We advertised the function hall for weddings, anniversaries, birthdays, etc and we were swamped with bookings. We were booked five months in advance for the weekends in the lounge. A week after the opening of the club we had a visit from the licensing police who said we could not have functions as the entertainment licence only covered us for the snooker side of things and we would have to go back to the court in order to get the right licence. At that time the licensing court only sat every three months for licences so we had to cancel three months’ bookings for the lounge. It was in the paper at the weekend about the situation and a lot of people who had booked functions for the other two months promptly cancelled them as they didn’t know what the outcome was going to be (understandably). It was a blow at the start for a new business. But the snooker side of it was busy and it kept everything going. We installed 15 video-type games in the corridor which ran the full length of the hall and two one-armed bandits which boosted the takings a little. I realised very quickly that we couldn’t survive on the snooker itself so before we got the right licence back I suggested we do something on a Sunday to utilise the lounge as we had not had a function booking for the lounge since we had opened. I said we could have a small band on the Sunday afternoon and have talent competitions (this was before the advent of Karaoke!). We could be a trio with myself on drums, Bobby who was singer could also be the compere and I would ask Rab Hughes if he wanted to play the keyboards. Bobby initially argued against that saying that we could get two Executive snooker tables for the lounge and make the hourly rate more than it was in the main hall. I said it would cost £3,000 for each table and it would take a long time to recoup that money and the fact was that most members were finished by about 10pm and I thought it was a bad idea. Bobby finally agreed to the band idea but when I said we would have to buy a small PA system he said he didn’t want to sing. There you go! I had mentioned that ugly word – MONEY!! I was really convinced that my idea was a winner so I bought the PA system myself, got in touch with Rab Hughes and started to rehearse. This was two weeks before we were due to get the licence back so it gave us time to get a few numbers under our belts. Rab who now worked for John Menzies built a stage in the lounge and it looked terrific. Two weeks later we were ready to go. We didn’t advertise it a lot outside – just in-house but when we opened the doors on Sunday at 12 noon the place was, as they say in Tranent, stowed. We played for about an hour and there were a few dancing but the majority of them were drinking and one thing they love to do in Tranent is drink! We then got a few singers up and it just escalated. Everyone wanted a chance to sing with the band. The takings were £3,000 when we stopped at 5pm! I just looked at Bobby and smiled. A couple of weeks later Bobby decided that he wanted to sing with the band and it was great. We now had a compere and a singer for the show. It was definitely the place to be on a Sunday afternoon, We then added a lead guitarist, bass guitarist and a saxophone player and we were hot. Sometimes Bobby wouldn’t turn up on a Sunday but we just carried on without him although he was a good vocalist and a great compere. One day in the video shop one of the customers suggested we hold a disco on a Sunday night but I wasn’t sure what the ramifications would be. One of the local councillors was a member in the video shop and when he came in I asked him for some advice. He said that if I made everyone a member who came to the disco it would be OK. The next Sunday we tried it out and it was a great success. So from 12 noon to 12 midnight it made for a very successful day. Two weeks later after the disco started up I was standing at the outside door seeing everyone off the premises when two guys came towards the door with pints in their hands. I told them to give me the unfinished drinks. One of the guys said “we paid for these drinks”. “Yes”, I said, “but you didnae pay for the glasses” and I took the drinks from them. Just as they left a voice beside me said “you took a right chance there Rab”. It was Tam Durie, one of my customers from the video shop, an ex-miner who lived in Tranent. I said to him was I supposed to let them walk out with the glasses? He said, “no but one of them could have stuck a glass in your face so get yourself a couple of doormen”. I asked him where would I get them and he said he had done the job on numerous occasions and he could get another guy to work with him. It was the best move we ever made as everyone knew Tam and gave him no cause to bar them from the club. We eventually had five doormen and in the two years that we had the place there was not one fight in or around the premises. I hired my old pals Tony McEwan and Willie Rose as night watchmen in the snooker club, one working one week and the other working the next. It worked out quite well at first then the woman who came in early in the morning to make up rolls for the customers said that Willie was drunk every morning when she came in so we had to buy grills to close up the bar at night. Then the place was broken into from the back cellar door and they stole a lot of the stock then bragged about it in the local pub saying the “night watchman” was asleep when they broke in and didn’t even wake up. Tony packed in that week. Just as well really as there was no point in having a night watchman who allowed the place to be broken into! Two weeks later there was a party in the lounge and Willie had come in a bit early. He was sitting with two or three of the party-goers when I noticed Gary Smith (son of my pal Iain) who worked for me giving out the cues when people came to the snooker. He was sitting beside Willie and had a pint in his hand. Apart from the fact that he was only 15 years old he had left the front office unattended and there was a till in there. I told him to put the pint down and get back to the office and I said to Willie, “you should have known better”. The following morning I got a phone call from Bobby Sinclair saying that Willie wasn’t too happy and had stormed out in a mood. He said he wouldn’t be treated like a dog by anyone. I was furious. I told him I had never treated anyone like a dog in my life. I always treat everyone with respect. In fact, I said that I had done him a favour when nobody else could be bothered with him by giving him a job. I didn’t say anything when I found out he was helping himself to the drink in the club but this was the last straw. I told him to “fuck off”. The fact is that sometimes people see kindness as weakness and he certainly did. I didn’t need that kind of hassle. The second year in the snooker club was nothing like the first. Bobby Sinclair was getting tighter by the minute and that included paying the bills. Everything was left to the last minute. The Sunday was still going great guns but the functions started to peter out like my working relationship with Bobby. It wasn’t a partnership anymore. In fact by the second half of the year we hardly spoke to each other. I said to him one day “we’re going to have to sell this place” and he agreed. We had a £15,000 overdraft and we were at the limit. We started to drop hints in certain quarters about selling and two of Bobby’s friends had a meeting with us. We discussed everything and they made us an offer. I was delighted but the Licensing Board only sat every three months we would have to run the club until then and pay all the bill as they were due. I suggested to Bobby we should go to the bank and speak to the manager. Mr. Miller was one of the old-fashioned bank managers in the days when you could go to the bank and actually speak to someone who knew what they were talking about. He was a real gentleman into the bargain. We showed him the offer and he said OK but we would have to sign a guarantee. Bobby wasn’t having this and to my amazement said “I can come up with the £7,500” which was his half of the overdraft, “but I don’t know about Mr. Batten”. I could have strangled him there and then. Mr. Miller said he couldn’t give us money without a signature and Bobby wasn’t willing to give one so we left the bank. I don’t know how I kept my cool when we got outside, but I did although I had murder in mind! I didn’t know what to do so I called my Accountant, Mr. Stewart, who dealt with all my finances including the video shop. “It’s easy” said Mr. Stewart. “You get £7,500 from the bank and sign for it and Mr. Sinclair can put in his share”. Why didn’t I think of that? I went back along to see Mr. Miller and the transaction went through without any hassle, He asked me if I wanted to wait until Bobby Sinclair had put in his share but I said no and that as time was of the essence here he should just put my share in now as there were bills to be paid. I phoned Bobby and told him about the transaction and he said that was good. I didn’t see him again until four days later (the Saturday). He was in the club early as the guy came on Saturdays to empty the machines and he didn’t trust him to count the money correctly even though the guy had a machine that counted the money. But Bobby didn’t trust anyone! “Have you put your money into the bank yet?” I asked him. “No” he said. “I’ve got to sell some shares but I’ll do that next week” he replied casually. I told him to have it done by Tuesday as there was another bill coming in and there wasn’t much left of the money I had borrowed. “I’ll do it” he said and disappeared out of the door. I didn’t see him again until the following Saturday morning and when he came in he just walked past me and said “hi Rab”. As he got to the door of the kitchen I grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. “What’s happening with this money?” I said with my hand almost round his throat. He mumbled something and said he had been having problems selling his shares and would probably have to go back to the bank and borrow the money like I did. I screamed at him that for the past two weeks my wife and I had been demented, worrying about whether he was going to come up with his share of the money. Two or three of the guys playing snooker came in to see what the noise was about and pulled me off him as I was by this time a bit out of control. They pulled me away and I warned him that the money had better be in the bank by Monday morning. I think he had the message now. He put the money in on the Monday and all we had to worry about now was Murdo and Laurie getting their licence. A week before the Licensing Committee sat Bobby came in and told me that he was going on holiday for a week. I didn’t argue or comment as we didn’t speak much now or discuss much. Our relationship was very strained at that time. He came back to work a couple of days before the Committee were sitting and on the day of the meeting all the parties met in our lawyer’s office. As we were walking to the Licensing Court I asked the lawyer did he need me to be in court today? He said no as it was the incoming owners who were applying for the licence. I said good, I was off for a pint and although Bobby protested, I didn’t listen as by this time I hated the place. We had never had a full licence in two years of trading. It was always a three month provisional and that was another millstone around my neck. Our fate was always in the hands of the Licensing Committee who at any time could revoke our licence and we would be ruined. So there I was in the pub. My brain was working overtime. I kept thinking that if they didn’t get the licence I would go mad. Half-an-hour later I strolled over to the courthouse and there was no one there. A Clerk was passing and told me they were finished for the day. I asked him if Bobby’s Snooker Centre had been granted a licence and he asked who was applying. I said “Laurence Annandale” and he said it had been granted. I could have kissed his ugly mug! When I got back to the club Bobby was in a good mood and started to talk to me as if nothing had happened over the past two weeks. We had a game of snooker to celebrate the deal and I was delighted to take £20 from him into the bargain. He was in a bad mood then! Laurence Annandale, who was a professional snooker referee and a lovely guy as well, asked us if we would continue with the band on Sundays. We both agreed and on the Sunday it was business as usual and the place was busy. We had all the warring factions there from Musselburgh, Prestonpans, Haddington, Ormiston, Wallyford, etc and, as I said before, in two years of operating, never ever a bit of trouble. Just as we started the first number two lads started an argument and the next minute there was a battle royal in progress and the doormen were powerless to stop it. Even the women were fighting! Everything in the bar was wrecked. The great tables Eddie Ramsay had given us, the bar was completely smashed and so were some of the windows that looked onto the snooker hall. It was awful. The police came and emptied the place fast and that was the end of the music. In fact they lost the Sunday licence for a while and the place was never the same. I think they eventually sold the place to a builder and where the snooker centre and car park stood there is now flats. The people who came into the club were great and I had a lot of friends there but I have to say it was probably the most stressful time in my life. The video shop was still doing OK and I had made the small shop into a wines and spirits shop so everything was ticking over then a bombshell. My nephew Willie, the manager and driving force of the shop, the girls’ favourite said he was leaving to start his own floor-laying business and I was really upset. Things would be really different now. I had started doing wedding videos as part of the business and one Saturday afternoon in 1990 I was filming a wedding in Port Seton, a small town near Tranent when I recognised a familiar face. It was Alec Inglis the bass guitarist from the Warren Davis Band. I hadn’t seen him since his infamous departure from The Ferry boat with Charlie Low but it was good to see him. We shook hands and hugged and had a good chin-wag. He said the band should get together for a drink and talk about old times. He said he would get in touch with Charlie if I could phone Rab Hughes. We decided to meet at Charlie’s who was doing well in the buying and selling of property and he had a lovely big house at Blinkbonny with a huge extension built on. We took our wives – not Rab as he was divorced by that time – and we had a great night. During the conversation Charlie said that he had seen a portable recording studio that was going cheap and maybe we could buy it between us and try and write some songs together. We all agreed and we started playing and recording the next week. It was great. The boys were back together. We all had a shot at trying to write songs but none of us were very good at it but the sound of the band was getting tighter and I think we all knew that sooner or later we were going to be playing together again. Charlie said to me one day that he had seen an advert in a newspaper about a McGoos and Frisco’s reunion at a club called The Citrus Club in Grindlay Street, Edinburgh so we went along with our wives. Buddy Miller who used to be the Manager of both clubs in their heyday was holding the event. First of all, it was a disco and secondly, there were not a lot of people there. My mind went into overdrive and I said to Charlie, “we could do this and do it a lot better”. I said instead of making the emphasis on the clubs we should make it about the bands that played there. We could get some of the prominent singers and musicians to do a spot and we could be the house band. Charlie said he would go and talk to the owner and try and organise a date, When he came back he said that we could have the club free of charge if we could guarantee at least 200 people and if the number was below that, it would cost us £150. The owner would throw in the disco and bouncers. We booked it to take place in six weeks’ time and started to put up posters and sell tickets. We also got a write up in the Evening News. My wife Jackie and my daughter Lisa made up a huge wall-to-wall poster which read “The Back to the Future Night”. A lot of guys and girls who played in that era were phoning up wanting to appear but there was only so much time on the night so we had to disappoint a lot of people. Liz McEwan, Crawford Hunter, Shorty Rodgers, Nobby Clark, Toto McNaughton, Tam White, Rab Thallon, Jimmy Cruickshanks, Jimmy Scott, Kenny Robertson, Davy Dodds and Ally Black were the ones who would be appearing with Steve Hamilton hosting the show. The year was 1990. The place held a comfortable 200 people but that night we had sold about 300 tickets. It was a great night with guys like Nobby Clark, Jimmy Cruickshank and Davy Dodds getting on stage together for the first time in years and it inspired them to start performing again. Liz McEwan was terrific and did a soulful version of the Midnight Hour which went down well but the real star of the show was Shorty Rodgers, one time vocalist with the Nat Allen Orchestra in the Palais de Dance, Fountainbridge, Edinburgh and he really had the place going with his brand of rock n’ roll. Nobby Clark was nervous as he hadn’t sung for quite some time but got a wonderful reception from the crowd with his versions of Tracks of my Tears and the Beatles’ Mr. Postman. Jimmy Cruickshank did a medley of rhythm and blues numbers which brought back lots of memories from The Top Storey Club but really for me the night was about The Warren Davis Band as we hadn’t played together for nearly twenty years. It was absolutely brilliant and we sounded great as the sound was being mixed by a sound engineer. It was the first time we had used a modern system like this and everything was just perfect. At the end of the night we were all sitting having a drink when Charlie piped up, “I think we should make it a weekly thing starting next week” rubbing his hands. I disagreed and suggested one very three months but he persisted. “We’ll call it the Back to the Future Club” he continued with a triumphant look on his face. I made the argument that people our age wouldn’t want to do it every week but every three months would be a winner. Rab and Alec agreed with Chas so I was out-voted. Most of the acts agreed to come back the following week but as it happened, it was the September weekend and there were only about 50 people there so it was a clanger. The guy who owned the club also charged us £150 for having less than 200 in the place which was also a clanger. We didn’t do another show. We decided to go on the road again and started to do working men’s clubs. Alec and I were having a pint in a lounge in Leith one day when one of the waitresses recognised us; We all had a chin-wag about old friends, etc. We told the girl that the boys were back together again and she said why didn’t we play in the lounge. She called over to the owner and the buy said if we played for him on Hogmanay we could have a Friday and Saturday every week. We were delighted as it was becoming a drag travelling all over the place doing gigs and having to carry our own gear (no roadies then) as we weren’t getting any younger so we said yes. We phoned the guys to tell them and Rab said he was going to be a best man for a friend at Hogmanay and wouldn’t be able to get there until 10pm. The guy wanted us to start at 9pm but Alec said he would talk to the owner and say that we would start at 10pm. I saw Alec the following day. He said he had spoken to the guy and that it would be OK for us to start at 10pm. On the afternoon of Hogmanay we set our equipment up in the lounge ready for the evening gig. Alec lived in Burntisland so he was staying at my house that night and we would just chill out until time to leave for the gig. We arrived about 9.45pm and to my amazement all our gear was lying on the dance floor and the place was packed. Charlie was standing at the bar with a glum look on his face and I went over to talk to him. He said the owner had told Alec that we had to start at 9pm and when it came to 9.15pm and we weren’t there he told Charlie to take our gear out of the way and he put on a disco. I was furious and had some choice words with the guy and it almost came to blows at one point. He told me Alec had never spoken to him about changing the time of the gig and he had to get some music on as the punters were getting restless. Alec had lied to us, As we were packing the gear away that night I told them I didn’t want to do any more gigs but I would still do the recording night at Charlie’s. That was virtually the end of our comeback and it had lasted about five months.

Chapter 21 – Robert Batten, Newsagent.

I had been in the video shop for 14 years and decided to sell it, and as there was another video shop in Tranent I decided to call him and ask if he would like to buy me out. He jumped at the chance and a few weeks later I said goodbye to Tranent. I met a lot of good people there, some a bit rough round the edges but I don’t think I had occasion to fall out with any of them. It took a few years for me to be accepted as a “belter” (a name for someone from Tranent) but I got there in the end and I was proud to be treated like one of them. There are too many to mention but two guys in particular I will never forget – both deceased now – were Iain Smith and John Gilhooly, God rest their souls. Thanks to all the people of Tranent for being so good to me and my family. What to do now I wondered. I took a couple of weeks off and renewed my friendship with Willie Rose and Tony McEwan. It was a good summer that year and we spent a week sitting in Tony’s back garden chatting, laughing about old times and drinking beer. I started to look around for another business to get into. I had a £60,000 budget and I needed to find something fast as I was getting bored hanging around. I had never been out of work. A newspaper shop in Leith caught my interest so I went to have a chat with the owner. He was a supercilious type of guy and every penny was a prisoner. I look at his books and they were not bad but I thought he was pricing the place a bit high at £60,000. I spoke to my accountant the shrewd Mr. Stewart and he said that it looked a good little business but I should offer him £50,000, take it or leave it. I went into the shop the next day and he was all smiles until I said I would offer him £50,000 and no more when he started whingeing about how he had built up the business over the years. He moaned and groaned. I said it was £50,000 and if he didn’t shake on it the deal was off, and so was I. he had a couple of more moans and then shook my hand. I was now a newsagent. The guy said his dad who worked in the shop would stay on for a couple of weeks to keep me right with the newspaper side of things, dealing with John Menzies, etc. I was delighted as I knew nothing about the newspaper selling business and old Jack was a mine of information. I had to buy the guy’s stock so my wife Jackie and my sister came in to help with the stocktake. They were appalled when they found that a quarter of the confectionery stock was out of date. I also realised that the shop needed new shelving etc so I bought a huge gondola type of unit for the centre of the shop which I erected with the help of my mate Willie Rose. I also bought new shelving for the walls, stands for greetings cards. I also bought a new refrigerated counter as the main counter and a stand for newspapers, etc. I had ordered a huge skip for all the old stuff and rubbish to go into and in order for us to open on the Monday morning Willie and I worked through the night putting everything up. We finished at 5am on the Monday morning and I opened at 6am and worked though until 6pm which was closing time when I first took over. It was hectic and tiring but it was worth it and I couldn’t have done it without Willie Rose. Thanks Willie! Old Jack stayed working for me for three weeks and my sister worked alongside of him learning all about the shop. When Jack eventually left the shop Jean started to open up in the morning at 6am and finished work at 10am and I would work from 10am until 6pm. I worked Saturdays and Sundays too. It was hectic and hard work but I enjoyed the crack with the customers. It was a happy shop but I needed more help. One afternoon I had a visitor. It was John Gilhooly who lived in Tranent and had been one of my best customers. John was a big powerful looking guy who had a menacing face like Jack Nicholson in The Shining and he had a deep penetrating voice. But John was a gentle giant. He had a good sense of humour, was very honest and would do anything I asked of him. I asked him to mind the shop counter for me as I had something to do. He said OK and when I came back he was happily ringing up sales as if he had done it all his life. When all the customers left the shop he told me that he had done this kind of work before and he had really enjoyed working behind the counter. He told me that he had taken a golden handshake from the Gas Board worth about £50,000 but he was at a loose end now and if it was alright with me, could he come into the shop now and again and help out. This meant that I could go to the cash and carry without having to close the shop and do other things. I was delighted and it wasn’t long before he was going to the cash and carry, working behind the counter and coming in to work at weekends. He wouldn’t take any wages, only £40 a week for petrol for his car and I had to force him to take that! John was a godsend. He took a lot of pressure off me and Jean and all the customers loved him. Willie Rose and I went to Tony’s house every Thursday and we would have a few beers and talk about old times etc. Tony seemed to be a bit of a hermit now and seldom left the house. Being in Willie’s company meant more drink than I was used to and one day we were sitting in our local pub, The Bunch of Roses, when in walked a guy we knew, Harry Wallace who played bass guitar with a few good bands. He was a heavy drinker just like Willie but he was a likeable guy. I said (probably through the drink) why didn’t we get a band together and Harry said it had been a long time since he had played. But I said to him it was like riding a bike – you never forget how to do it. I said to him, “c’mon man, it was you who taught Kenny Robertson how to play and he was one of the best”. Harry said his son’s pal was a lead guitarist and he would ask him to come along to a practice. I still had some PA gear and a couple of microphones plus my drums. I said we could practise in the basement of my shop and we all agreed to meet on Monday night. The young lead guitarist was called Paul, 20 years old, left-handed and had a Fender Stratocaster guitar and also a Rickenbacker. He knew all the rock n roll stuff as his dad was a singer and a lead guitarist in our era and this boy was good. Harry borrowed a bass guitar from his son. He was a bit rough at first but once he got going he was pretty good. We did Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis, Chuck Berry, Eddie Cochran, etc. all the good rock n roll stuff. We even did a couple of Beatles numbers – Mr. Moonlight and Roll Over Beethoven. We had been practising for about six weeks and one night Harry said he had been talking to the manager in the Bunch of Roses and he wanted us to do a gig in the pub with the band. I thought Willie was going to have a heart attack. It had been 31 years since he had last sung in a band and had to have another drink to steady his nerves. Any excuse! I said it would be a good night as everyone knew us in the Bunch of Roses and they would all be behind us on the night. I also said that they would have to restrict their drinking to a couple of pints while we were playing and they agreed. I then said the band needed a name and we agreed on “Willie and the Handjives”. The night of the gig came round very quickly and I went into the pub at 5pm to set up the gear and noticed a large poster behind the bar which said “Appearing tonight at 8 o’clock, Willie and the Handjobs”! I hoped that that was the only thing that was going to go wrong tonight. As I was setting up the PA system Harry Wallace appeared from the lounge and he was very drunk. I set the rest of the gear up and bundled him into my car and took him home. I was fearing the worst for the gig but Harry’s wife said he would be alright for 8pm. Now I was really nervous and the thoughts were running through my head – would Harry turn up, would Willie turn up drunk – in fact, would they turn up at all?! My head was spinning. I got back to the Bunch of Roses at 6.45pm and to my surprise Harry Wallace was there, tuning up his guitar, none the worse for wear. Only an hour ago he could hardly walk, but that’s a drinker for you. It was unbelievable. The place was packed mostly with friends and relatives and I quickly impressed this on the boys. I said we were on a winner here from the start as everyone was rooting for us to do well. I did the talking before the first number. I said that the former owner of the pub, Willie Dodds, would turn in his grave if he knew that a band was about to play in his beloved pub. This brought a good cheer and I counted the band into its first number, “Shaking All Over” by Johnny Kidd and the Pirates. Willie didn’t come in as he had stage fright so after 32 bars I came in for him and then he took it up. He still had that electricity a good singer needs and by the end of the song everyone in the place was up on their feet. Every number got the same reaction and the night just flew in. After we sung the last song a number of the girls in the audience threw knickers at Willie for a laugh. They had brought them in their handbags and this went down really well! It rounded off a fantastic night and the boys only had two pints each. They certainly made up for it in the last twenty minutes though but they felt like superstars that night. One guy asked me how I managed to make a good band out of two hopeless alcoholics and a wet-behind-the-ears guitarist! It ranks against any of my achievements in the music business. I got a phone call from the manager of the Bunch of Roses the following day saying that the brewery was delighted with the till results on the Tuesday night and one of the guys who organised the Tenants entertainment in the pubs wanted to speak to us. We arranged to meet up with him in The Norhet in Davidson’s Mains and Harry and I attended. Basically they wanted us to play Monday to Friday in the pubs they owned in Edinburgh and surrounding areas and the money would be brilliant. I thought that we could still play gigs at the weekends as well but I was kidding myself. When we got back to the Bunch and told Willie what had transpired he said that he couldn’t play five nights a week and Harry agreed with him. Bloody hell, I thought to myself, for ten hours work a week these guys could make more money than they would do working a 40 hour week and they don’t want to do it. I was deflated but I bit the bullet and carried on. We were getting jobs once or twice a month and going down great everywhere we played but the drink started to creep in more and more and I was starting to feel like a headmaster trying to keep them from the drink and everything together. Willie and the Handjives lasted about 3 months and I never regretted any minute of it. Thanks for the memories guys. My newsagent shop was still doing OK and I still had John, my sister and a young girl working for me. John came in every day and let my sister away at 10am. He loved the place and everyone loved him. He even came in at the weekend although I did a Sunday and half of Saturday and the girl did the other half. I still went to see Tony on a Thursday although he was getting more and more distant with the passage of time. I started to rehearse with Rab Hughes again in my house and he had two new keyboards with a midi file facility in them. This was actually for backing tapes which were played through the organ and Rab and I played along with them. It was a brilliant facility and it was like we were making the whole sound ourselves. It took me a while to play alongside the tapes with my drums but I cracked it. I was also doing a lot more singing. We started playing in one or two bowling clubs, then an agent heard us and we started playing all over the place. It was great, just two guys trying their best with great harmonies. The only downside was the equipment. We had quite a lot and we weren’t getting any younger so that was a bit of a drag. We couldn’t even take a roadie with us as we packed all the stuff into our cars and didn’t have room for another person. It started to get a bit “matter of fact” after a couple of years and I knew for a fact that Rab wanted to pack it in but he didn’t want to let me down. He had turned his life around by this time, married a really nice girl called Cath and his roaming days were now well and truly behind him. The guy who owned the pub across the road from my shop asked me if we would do a gig on a Saturday night for him and I agreed. The lounge we were playing in wasn’t a big place but it was packed and we were soon into a routine. Halfway through the evening I noticed a familiar face. It was Charlie Low our old lead guitarist. We got him up for a couple of numbers and he was great, especially with the two-part harmonies backing we were giving him. After the gig he told us he was in touch with Alec Inglis again and as we were playing the following Saturday in the same pub, we invited them to come along with their guitars to have a session with us. It was great for us all to be together again. We were all older, a bit greyer; Charlie was completely bald but wore a gangster-type hat. It was a good night and all the memories came flooding back. We decided to start rehearsing together again with a view to doing some gigs. We managed to get the Hibs Supporters Club to rehearse in. It was quite a big hall and we were able to turn up the volume a bit. It was unbelievable how easy it was for us to get a substantial repertoire together but everything just fell into place and it was like we had never been away. We were now thinking of a gig and we all agreed the first one would have to be a big one. I started to think about the nightclub we hired in 1990 and invited different people to perform etc etc and I thought of a great idea. Why don’t we do a tribute evening for my cousin Toto McNaughton and invite people along to play at it and we can be the house band. Toto was a legend in Edinburgh as a drummer and was also part of one of the best bands to come out of Edinburgh called The Boston Dexters. We were all in agreement about it and started trading ideas about it. I spoke to the owner of The Minto Hotel, Jake Dourlay, a musician himself who played with a band called The Tandem and he knew Toto very well. He said yes right away and I asked him how many people the hall would take. He said it would hold about 230. We put up posters, an advert in the Edinburgh Evening News and John Gibson gave the venue a write up in his column. I wrote to a few businessmen for donations and got quite a few including Tom Farmer, Drum City, Kenny McLean, etc. I organised a guy from Edinburgh Council to come and make a presentation to Toto on the night. I bought a silver plaque which read “To Toto McNaughton from the Edinburgh Musicians he inspired”. I put tickets 400 tickets into six or seven places expecting to sell at least around 200. I sold the lot. People were phoning up from Germany, London, Switzerland, etc for tickets and a lot of them were disappointed. As I said, Toto knew a lot of people and a lot of them had moved to other countries to pursue their music dreams. On the night of the show there were at least 50 people in the foyer of the hotel looking for tickets to get in. The compere of the show was Edinburgh comedian Bill Barclay and he was excellent. There were appearances by Tam White, Happy Howden, Liz McEwan, The Crawford Hunter Band with Eddie Carr and Brian Kellock. It was a great night for my cousin Toto and he deserved it. He was an absolute legend in Edinburgh especially for drummers. The sad fact that night was that I got no help whatsoever from the band, excepting the fact that they played. I had to organise everything myself and I was completely shattered at the end of the night. Thanks guys! After the Toto gig we started to play again, clubs, pubs, etc. I had been in the newsagent shop for ten years. I decided to sell up and I already had a buyer. Alec Inglis had told me he was Operations Manager for a property developer and I started to think I might go into that. At the same time my business was up for sale the shop next door came up for sale also. It was a plumber’s shop but there was planning permission to convert it to a three bedroom flat and the price was £40,000. I asked Alec what he thought and he said it was a great deal and he would help me with everything. I sold the newsagent shop and bought the shop next door with the plans etc for a flat. I told my daughter who was unhappy with her job at that time that I would take her in as my partner but that she would have to keep working until we had at least developed and sold the first flat. Best thing I ever did. She was the one who designed the kitchens and bathrooms even to the point of drawing on the walls where the units were to go! She also did all the colour schemes. Alec seemed to know all about the building business at least that was what he told me and he started to help me clear the shop. The place was on two levels and the bottom level had to be cleared first and a couple of walls taken down and a large steel beam inserted. After a week we had the place empty and Alec had filled my head with so much information my brain was like a sieve. I said he could come in with us as a partner. He wasn’t working at the time so I said I would pay him £100 per week until we sold a couple of properties. He said that he would deal with the architect and any building problems and would get a couple of supposed to be tradesmen from Fife to start the proceedings. They started putting up stud partitions etc and installed a small kitchen downstairs. After a week Alec said we would have to give them some cash up front. I said how much and he said £5,000. I was reluctant, but Alec said it would keep them happy for a month so I paid them. The next week I was on holiday and when I came back there were no workmen to be seen. Alec said they hadn’t been in for three days. I was furious and started to inspect their work. Doors had not been hanged correctly, there were leaks in the toilet and the en suite. They had made a shocking mess of the mitres on the worktop in the kitchen and filled it in, believe it or not, with bluetak! I realised then that they were a couple of cowboys and I immediately told him to phone them and tell them not to come back. Alec hummed and hawed as he did everytime I asked him to phone somebody but he got on the phone and told them they were fired. I quickly got another couple of joiners who had to go over everything that the original two had done except the stud partitions. I decided there and then to organise the workmen myself. I got a good electrician I knew and he organised a plumber, a plasterer and a painter and before long we got the place finished and up for sale. We had to have an inspection from the Council in order to get a Completion Certificate. The guy came down and pulled up a couple of things to be fixed. We had them attended to and the man came back and said everything was satisfactory. We then put the flat up for sale and decided to look for another one. With another bank loan we bought a three bedroomed terraced house in Inverkeithing in Fife. We started preparing walls, emptying the kitchen, pulling out the bathroom etc. We still hadn’t got the completion certificate from the Council guy. I asked Alec a dozen times about it and he always had an excuse, i.e. the guy wasn’t in, he had tried to phone him, etc and this went on for a couple of weeks. In the meantime Alec had said that he would do the decorating in order to save money as this was his forte. I said fair enough – on ye go. Six days later he was still on the first bedroom and I said we would have to get a painter in to finish it as he was taking too long. He said he was not having that as it would cost us too much money to get someone in. I said it was my money and that was what was going to happen. His face went red, he took off his overalls and said, “well, if that’s the case, I’m off”. I didn’t stop him because by that time I realised that he was a Walter Mitty character and I didn’t believe half the garbage that came out of his mouth. I phoned Lisa and told her and she was delighted as she didn’t like Alec that much anyway. He was the type of person who was always going to do things. She was a girl who liked to get things done. She had his number from day one! I started to think of everything he said to me in the past three months and wondered if he was telling me the truth or not. I then phoned the Council guy’s office about the Completion Certificate and he said he had never had a phone call from Alec once and the Certificate had been sitting on his desk for three weeks waiting to be picked up. I quickly put this behind me and I got a phone call from Charlie the next day saying that he had had a call from Alec who was packing in the band. I said I was glad. We could play without him anyway as Rab had a facility on the keyboards that played bass runs along with the chords and it sounded better than any bass guitar would sound. Lisa was really miserable at her work and as we had sold the three bedroomed flat I told her to hand in her notice and come and work full time with me. She was brilliant at it as she has been with everything she has ever done. She organised the workmen, planned and set out the kitchens and bathrooms, ordered materials and even got mucked in when things needed pulling out etc. Everything in our garden was just rosy. The band was doing well as a three piece and we played around the pubs and clubs for a few months and one day I received a phone call from The Post Office Club in Restalrig. It used to be the Munrospun canteen when I worked there but it had been a social club for years now. It was a friendly place and I knew a lot of the people who went there so we were a hit that night. The social convener approached us when we were finished and asked us if we could play as a resident band for them on a Saturday night. This was a godsend for us as we were sick of lifting all the heavy gear we had from place to place and the sound we had in this club was brilliant. We started the next week and we had many a great night in that club especially at Hogmanay. By the end of the second year in the development business we had done ten properties and things were looking up although I noticed that every time I went to the bank to start a new deal the procedure was different each time. They were making it more and more difficult. Things should have been getting easier but I seemed to be jumping through more and more hoops for the bank. We started the third year by taking on three projects at the same time and by this time we had the formula for it and we made good progress with them. The band had fell into a bit of a rut at the club but we rehearsed every Thursday although Chas and Rab spent more time outside smoking than inside working and we didn’t get much done. I was a bit on edge as I could see the property business was not going to last much longer as the banks were getting tighter with their lending. I had words with the boys one night about how much time they spent outside smoking on a rehearsal night. When we were going home Charlie said to me he couldn’t stand this huffy patter and I thought to myself “cheeky bastard”. I was running him home every time we finished at the club. He stayed at the other end of town from me so it wasn’t exactly on my way and he paid me back by insulting me like this?! I dropped him off as usual but the argument festered in me all week and when we met at the club on the following Saturday I told them I was finished the next week with the band. Charlie said “oh, right” and Rab said nothing at all. They didn’t even try to dissuade me from going which made me even more angry. I told the Committee and they were sad and asked me to stay on for an extra week in order for them to acquire a new band, and I agreed. At the end of that week we just said goodbye and that was that. I think Rab was glad as he was happily married again by this time but believe it or not Charlie played solo in the club for another two years using backing tapes – no pride. Neither Rab nor myself played again in a band. It had been a long road and we had played in different line ups with the same people, i.e. 2, 3, 4 and 5-piece bands (the latter with Jimmy Scott) and now Chas was doing a one-piece with no soul. I was by this time 61 years old. The banks had gone belly-up. We had three properties finished and up for sale but no one could get a mortgage so we tried to persevere. Six months down the line the bank was pushing us to pay off the mortgages. Lisa went back to work in the Casino and I suggested to my wife Jackie that we sell our house in Edinburgh and buy one of the properties we had for sale in Fife. She readily agreed. This would solve a problem for us. The property we had in Edinburgh was a lovely house but the area in which it was situated was going downhill fast. When the drug dealers in the street have better cars, holidays and clothes than you have, and you’re out knocking your pan in, it’s time to call it a day!! Also it seemed that I was getting into altercations with youngsters on a regular basis as no one would confront them. Not even the police! We moved to Fife and we love it although we are still in Edinburgh on a very regular basis. By this time the bottom had fallen out of the property market and we did not hold out much hope for our house selling quickly. However, we put the house on the market on a Monday morning and by Monday evening it was sold! We were over the moon and moved to Fife about a month later. Lisa and Gavin had also moved over to Fife a couple of years before us and now we are just a short distance from them. Don’t know if this is good or bad for them! The bank was still putting pressure on me and with helpful advice from our lawyer we managed to buy the two houses still up for sale and get the bank off our backs. We moved into our new house and quickly made it home. We have a big garden at the back and we have built a huge conservatory onto the house which has finished it off nicely. I kept my drums, mike stands, PA system, etc for six years before I finally sold them. Selling my drums was like losing a dear old friend. My wife is a Flamenco dancer and she loves it. So do I. Our roles have changed somewhat now. She is the star and I am the groupie – it’s quite ironic! We have been married for 43 years and a lot has happened since then. Both our Mothers and Fathers died, Jackie’s brother and sister died. I have been married twice with a daughter from each marriage. I have had four businesses. We’ve both had heart attacks. We have worked very hard and been incredibly lucky. We have had three great homes and some wonderful holidays. We have good friends mainly due to my wife Jackie who has a huge circle of friends. We have two wonderful daughters, Teresa Dawn Batten who lives and works very hard teaching English in Barcelona and Lisa Jane Batten who is a very hard-working Duty Manager in one of the Grosvenor Casinos in Edinburgh. My eldest daughter Teresa, whose mother is my first wife Lorraine, brought our families together and I am glad to say we are all friends now. Life is too short. I celebrated my 70th birthday last year (2014) and I had a surprise birthday party at the Casino where Lisa works. We had a nice circle of friends there along with family members. It seems like my life has just raced by. Most of it was dominated by the band scene and I must apologise if I hurt anyone on the way through especially my ex-wife Lorraine and my daughter, Teresa. To the people that have hurt me or done me a disservice I forgive them completely. They were all part of my life one way or another. Two people who have never let me down are Rab Hughes, the keyboard player whose harmonies made me a believable singer when I had to be and my good friend Roy McLean who has been my friend for nearly 50 years. Aye, Roy has seen me make a fool of myself on many occasions but was always there for me when I needed him most. Thanks guys. The biggest influence in my life was my Father, whose love for my Mother was as big as my love for my beautiful wife, Jackie. He was everything a hero should be: strong, tough, intelligent, forgiving, caring and he had a great philosophy on life. He was of course also the best crossword solver in The Bunch of Roses! He was only half the man he was after my Mother’s death but that was still better than most men. A great guy. A lot of people in my life died over the years including two of the original Beatle band: Ronnie Brown and Tony Quinn, two really nice guys. My two business partners Gerry Mearns and Bobby Sinclair, my last two uncles Andrew and Frankie, my cousin Toto McNaughton and his singer in the Boston Dexters, the incomparable Tam White, Pete Seaton, Tony McEwan, Ronnie Klein. In fact, almost all of the old gang in the street. I am finally over the band scene and it has taken me 55 years to get here. It had everything in abundance – love, hate, excitement, elation, disappointment, fulfilment, betrayal, joy, heartache, rejection, etc. We were never great musicians but we were at the heart of the Edinburgh and surrounding area scene in the late 60s and 70s. We were a hard-working band and in our day could compete with the best of them.

A synopsis of people in this story.

Davy Morrison, guitarist and singer, The Midnight Revellers. A big strong mild-mannered guy who introduced me to music. Got married at an early age. Good voice and certainly could have made it in the local band scene. Was one of my real friends.

Willie Rose, singer, Be-bop and the Checkers and Willie and the Handjives. A great rock n’ roll singer who put his heart and soul into every song he sang. One of my biggest disappointments as this guy should have been a big star. Was addicted to alcohol at an early age.

Harry Wallace, bass guitarist Willie and the Handjives. Harry grew up in the same area as Willie and I. He was an excellent bass guitarist and played with a lot of great bands. He also gave Kenny Robertson lessons when he first was starting out. He finished his playing days in the iconic Tartan Club. Tried really hard like Willie in the Handjives band and for three months was a great bass guitarist again but the drink finally won in the end and we parted rather acrimoniously. I saw him at Bobby Primrose’s funeral (one of the old gang) about a year later. We shook hands and embraced and we were friends again. Harry was a likeable guy and everybody loved him. Like my Dad he was a fixture in the Bunch of Roses! He passed away a few years ago. God bless Harry, you were a real star. R.I.P.

Tony McEwan. I was his friend all of his life and did my best to help him with girls, job advice, etc but he was an introvert with a huge inferiority complex. I loved Tony. R.I.P.

Sidney Boucher, friend. A true friend in every sense of the word. Only a few months as pals but we had some great times and Sid never let me down once and I couldn’t say that about any of my so-called mates with the exception of Roy McLean. Sid was funny, intelligent, game for anything, truthful, happy-go-lucky and read to enjoy life and I was proud to call him my friend.

Bruce Anderson, rhythm guitarist, sax player, The Checkers and the Memphis Soul Band. My soul mate and bandmate and best friend for almost four years. Was deeply saddened when he stopped being my best pal and became best pal with Tam McMillan. It took me a long time to get over that period. After a short time playing with Tam and Kenny and another lead guitarist he never played again which was a sin. Thanks for the memories Bruce.

Paul Cassidy, singer, The Checkers R & B. A competent rhythm and blues singer who took over from Willie Rose in the Checkers and never let us down. Nice one Paul.

Kenny Robertson, bass guitarist, The Checkers, the Memphis Soul Band and The Warren Davis Band. Undoubtedly the best musician I ever played with. Changed the whole sound of any band he played with. Never lasted a long time in a band as he was a bit of a prima donna. Tried to commit suicide and couldn’t function properly after that. His personality changed however, for the better. We would have been a fantastic band if he had remained in the line-up. Thanks for the memories Kenny.

Tam McMillan, vocalist, Memphis Soul Band. A founder member of the Memphis Soul Band. A great singer and could sing anything but excelled at soul music. Like Tony a bit of an introvert and had an inferiority complex. Instrumental in breaking up the soul band with Bruce and Kenny and after a short time, like Bruce, never played again. What a waste of real talent and another of my big disappointments.

Jimmy Scott, singer, The Warren Davis Band. A powerful singer, not as cultured as Tam McMillan but had become a capable singer when he joined us and gave us the name, The Warren Davis Band. Didn’t know what musical direction to take but I knew and picked the right songs for him to sing. Our own version of Jackie Wilson’s Higher and Higher, and a song written by the Bee Gees called By the Light of the Burning Candle are the songs which everyone will remember Jimmy for. Jimmy left us in the lurch to go abroad with another band and came back begging to play with us again. But the dye had been cast and Alec, Rab and Charlie and myself were quite a formidable band without him and we turned him down. Who knows what heights we could have scaled if he had stayed. Another one of my big disappointments. He also sang a song that Tam McMillan did a soul version of and Jimmy made it his – Somewhere Over the Rainbow.

Alec Inglis, guitarist, The Warren Davis Band and cousin of Jimmy Scott. Learned most of his playing from Kenny Robertson but was never in the same musical plain as him. Always told tall tales about everything and people were ready to believe him, including me. Lucky to be in the right place at the right time.

Charlie Low, lead guitarist, Memphis Soul Band and The Warren Davis Band. Rab Hughes nick-named him wee Hitler as he was always scheming or talking someone into something. He was my hero when I first saw him, but as soon as money entered into the equation, he was completely selfish. An inventive and creative lead guitarist, who lost interest in the musical side for the financial side and took no prisoners. Married three times with seven kids. I forgave him several times for taking advantage and trying to take advantage of me and I forgive him now. I was always his friend but he was never mine. I don’t think he knew how to be a true friend to anyone. Lost my job in the Memphis Soul Band for sticking by him. Vio condios Charlie.

Rab Hughes, keyboards, lead singer, Warren Davis Band, Warren Davis Trio, Warren Davis Duo and Shout. Never imagined in a million years that I would become friends with this guy. He was a self-opinionated, self-centred, over-sexed, and a ladies man who just had to glance at a girl and she melted. We were all envious and in awe of him. He wasn’t a great musician and neither were the rest of us but I played a lot of different gigs with him and he never let me or the band down. He brought something to the band that every group needed, a big female following. He didn’t have a regular job for a few years but after the shock of his wife leaving him he turned his life around, got a steady job, met a terrific girl and got married again. I was his best man and he had become the man I always knew he could be. We remain good friends to this day. Respect Rab.

Tam Hamilton, bass guitarist, The Warren Davis Band. Tam was a nice intelligent guy who didn’t look like a musician at all. He was small, tubby and had a resemblance to Ronnie Corbett but what a musician and he transformed our trio into a force to be reckoned with. I think he struggled to understand what Rab was saying at times as Rab was from the west coast and used some funny words that even I couldn’t understand at times but there was a bond between them and we flourished. We played for a couple of years together and it was a very enjoyable time. Thanks Tam.

Ronnie Brown, lead guitarist, Shout. A lovely guy, good singer, great harmonies. Could play lead or bass. Always telling jokes. At his best, no one could touch him. At his worst, better than anyone else. Had a big drink problem though and died through it. God Bless Ronnie. R.I.P.

Tony Quinn, bass guitarist, Shout. Good looking, deep voiced guy with a lot of untapped talent. Wasn’t 100% about the band Shout and left early on. A drinking pal of Ronnie Brown he was killed when knocked down by a motorbike. God Bless Tony. R.I.P.

David Moss, bass guitarist, Shout. A multi-talented musician who loved everything about the Beatles. It was a joy to play with him and indeed Shout as a band. It was the happiest group I ever played with. He never took second best in music and neither did I. It was a sad day for me when I ended the band. Thank you Davy for bringing me enjoyment in the music.

Roadies – Warren Davis Band. Charlie Knight (chief roadie), Davy Laing (van driver), Michael Combs, Tommy Laing and Edwin. Without these guys the band would not have functioned. Thanks guys. You were terrific.

Jimmy Cruickshanks. A great rhythm and blues singer with The Embers, one of the first pin up singers in the Edinburgh scene. Sang with a rough and ready attitude and at one time him and his band were more popular than any of the Liverpool bands that were sent up here.

Linny Paterson. Not a great singer but what a front man! He was the lead singer with 3’s a Crowd, a middle-of-the-road type of band, The Jury who were a soul type band and The Writing on the Wall, a psychedelic-type band who did a lot of self-penned numbers and were very popular in Edinburgh and Glasgow. R.I.P. Linny.

Crawford Hunter, Star. If anybody should have been a star this was the guy. A highly imaginative drummer who naturally made it look easy. Didn’t play much on the local scene as he played in Germany for a few years and when he came back to Edinburgh I gave him a job with a band I was gigging with and he went into a residency with them that lasted for about 32 years! My cousin Toto was a great drummer but Crawford studied everything about the drums, timings, etc and every time I heard him it gave me a buzz. He is still a sought-after session musician and although he suffers from tinnitus he is still keeping the beat. At a recent reunion of four bands Crawford played in two of them and he was tremendous. He had the same feeling as me for the band scene, the only drawback being for us drummers that we had to rely on other musicians in order to play. Thanks for keeping it going Crawf. You are respected just as much as my cousin Toto, and that’s saying something!

Shorty Rodgers. The singer with the Palais de Dance band, The Nat Allen Orchestra. A tall Scouser who was famous for his rendition of Johnny Kidd and the Pirates song, Shakin’ All Over in the late 50s and early 60s. Everyone in Edinburgh knew this guy, a great performer, who played at two of our reunion gigs in 1990 and 2005 and brought the place down with his dynamic singing and dance moves. Still performs in his late 70s. Nice one Shorty. You’re a stayer.

Ella Omond. Ella worked in Munrospun beside me. She was 15 and I was 17. When Davy, Stewart and I started the Midnight Revellers Ella started to sing with us and at an early age was a great singer. I started going steady with her but it didn’t last because of religious differences I thought. She went on to play with an Edinburgh band called The Kinsmen who had lead guitarist Ally Dawson and keyboard player Gus Rennie in the line-up and they played on the same stage as the Beatles in The Star Club in Hamburg. Should have been a huge star but went no further. Thanks for introducing us to a microphone Ella!

Stuart Whitehead. Stuart was the original bass guitarist when I started playing with the Memphis Soul Band and he was very competent. He also looked great and the female fans loved him. He wasn’t really chummy with the guys in the band but he always spoke to me and always frankly. We had only played six or seven gigs together in the band before he decided to call it a day and go into business. His parting words to me were “don’t trust Charlie Low”. Thanks for your honest input, Stu.

Gordon Pheasant (Big G). Big G was a smashing guy always ready to help his fellow musicians with anything especially equipment – amps, speakers, mikes, instruments, etc. if it wasn’t for him Charlie Low would have missed a lot of jobs as he was often short of an amp or a guitar. Gordon was a 30 stone drummer who played with two bands, Petersfield and 42 Inch Trust, the latter being half his waist size. He was a proficient drummer and had a really good voice too. He used to sit on two drum stools to support his weight. Thanks for all the help you gave us, especially to Charlie.

Tam White, singer, The Boston Dexters. A great blues singer inspired by Ray Charles but in reality Tam could sing anything. He had three TV series. On one he sang country and western, on the second he sang ballads and on the third he sang blues. When he started with the Dexters he would walk on stage with a starting pistol and fire it through the air. He would say through the microphone “nobody leaves until we finish”. It was brilliant and so was the music. The band passed up the chance to record “Please Stay” as they didn’t think it was their style of song. “I’m glad it wasn’t a big hit!” he remarked later on in life with a grimace. That song was a cult song if ever there was one! Tam appeared in several movies including a great part in Braveheart with Mel Gibson with whom he became friends. He appeared in television plays including my wife’s favourite, Taggart! He was a much sought-after singer until his

Toto McNaughton, drummer, The Boston Dexters and the Edinburgh Crusaders. A well-loved drummer on the Edinburgh scene and also my cousin. Would promise you the world but never delivered. A great figure on the jazz scene as well as the pop scene. His band The Edinburgh Crusaders ruled the Edinburgh scene in the early years of the rock n’ roll era after which the Dean Hamilton Combo came to the fore and when Tam White joined the band they became The Boston Dexters. Toto wasn’t good at relationships and his marriage soon fell apart. He had three children from his wife Anne. He was instrumental on putting me in the band scene and like him it dominated most of my life. God bless and thanks for throwing me in at the deep end cuz! A true Edinburgh legend. R.I.P. Toto.

Robert Batten, drummer The Midnight Revellers, Beebop and the Checkers, The Checkers R n’ B, The Memphis Soul Band, The Warren Davis Band, The warren Davis Trio, The Warren Davis Duo, Shout. I was never a great drummer. In fact, I never practised in my life. I learned as I played gigs but never ever let a band down musically. I played every type of music as the years flew by and even backed a lot of cabaret as well. My favourite drummers were Toto McNaughton and a protégé of mine, Crawford Hunter who went abroad in the late 60s to play with a band at huge concert venues. He came back to Edinburgh to play in a band who were resident in a top nightclub for 32 years. Crawford is still playing. My whole life was lived through playing in a band. There were loads of ups and downs and my problem was I thought the guys in the band were my friends. I always stood up for them but it took me a long time to realise that they would never do the same for me. Rab Hughes was right when he nick-named me “Huff” as I frequently went into one but it was always to provoke some sort of reaction from the rest of them. But it never worked and I always felt bad about it later. I never had aspirations of being a pop star. I just wanted to be in a competent resident band, playing good music and singing harmonies which I think I achieved with all the line ups. I was disappointed a few times by people who should have been stars like Willie Rose, Tam McMillan, Jimmy Scott and Kenny Robertson. They all had the talent within their grasp to become better and they all blew it. My best friend for instance, Bruce Anderson, who played guitar and sax was a loss to the music scene for everyone when he gave up early.

I would like to pay tribute to one person who has supported me wholeheartedly in most of my playing life. My wife Jackie for putting up with all my antics over the years concerning the band. She always encouraged me while holding down a job as secretary in a West End office and bringing up our daughter Lisa. She was always there when I was on a downer, in the huff or just needed to get something of my mind. After all these years of playing in bands we finally have some time together and enjoy each other’s company more than ever. I would like to apologise to my two daughters for not being as attentive as I should have been over the years. Lisa Jane Batten who is now 43 and my daughter Teresa Dawn Batten (from my first marriage) who is now 44. I love them both dearly. I have always been proud of both of them equally and there is not a day goes by when they are not in my thoughts. Lisa lives a mile or so from us and Teresa lives in Barcelona. I have two friends one of whom is Rab Hughes and the other is Roy McLean who has kept me on the straight and narrow for the last 50 years and pulled me out of the myre a few times, A true blue guy who wouldn’t tell a lie to save your life! At my father’s funeral I had written a Eulogy and no one was in a calm enough state of mind to read it especially me. But up stepped Roy and you could have heard a pin drop in the church. I have never been prouder of any of my friends before and we still remain best friends to this day. You were magnificent Roy. Thanks pal. I played my last gig when I was 62 and as usual I took one of my big huff turns and blew up mostly due to frustration and lack of motivation from my band mates. I think we were all fed up with each other by that time anyway. I apologised to Rab, Alec and Charlie for all the times I kicked off when in the band. These were great times we lived and played in and it put us on a pedestal at local level that we thought we would never reach. In no way have I tried to be disrespectful or vindictive to anyone mentioned in my story. I have tried to tell it as it was. I would like to thank all the promoters, club owners, managers, music shops especially Pete Seaton and Gordon Simpson, pubs, roadies, drivers. Also Mr. Smith’s record store and of course everyone who came to our gigs and still remember the bands and venues. There will never be another era like the 60s and 70s for music and the band scene in Edinburgh and in every other town in Britain. We will never see the likes again – Robert Batten, Big “H”.

None of the boys I played with ever thought of writing a song. We were all too busy enjoying life and playing the gigs. I have written a piece that sums up the band and the best club we ever played in: The International Club. Thanks for the memories:-

THE INTERNATIONAL CLUB (THE NASH) SONG It’s twelve o’clock on a Friday night and the Walkers gig has been done The guys are keen and the vans packed tight when Saturday morning is born. Excitement hits each one of us as we near the City’s hub We’ve got this gig at Heaven’s gate, it’s called the International Club. (Chorus): We’ve been playing this gig for three years now and it’s never been for the cash The Place, Walkers and Frisco’s somehow just ain’t as cool as The Nash. We lost our singer Jimmy Scott and thought it was the end of the road But we pulled together and gave it a shot as though we had some kind of code. Encouraged by our loyal fans and no magic lamp to rub We practised hard with bloody hands and ruled The International Club. (Chorus): We’ve been playing this gig for three years now and it’s never been for the cash The Place, Walkers and Frisco’s somehow just ain’t as cool as The Nash. If there was a perfect time to live it would be in the time of The Nash Happiness and plenty love to give, togetherness, good music, no trash. The years roll by, all things change, the band and clubs are no more But we’ll never forget these heady days when music and love was the score.

(Chorus): We’ve been playing this gig for three years now and it’s never been for the cash The Place, Walkers and Frisco’s somehow just ain’t as cool as The Nash. Written by Rab Batten 2015.

Some of the Edinburgh bands and groups in this era The Embers, The Dominoes, The Roadsters, The Trespassers, Fayne and the Cruisers, The Sabres (Scotland), The Mark V, The Edinburgh Crusaders, Butch and the Bandits, Phil and the Flintstones, The Dean Hamilton Combo, Tiny and the Titans, Johnny Horn and the Hornets, Beebop and the Checkers, The Accused, The Partisans, The Athenians, The Marksmen, The Norsemen, The Saracens, The Boston Dexters, The Kinsmen, East West, The Blaze, The Hipple People, The Henchmen, Leather Soul, The Memphis Soul Band, Focus Colour, The Jury, The T-Set, The Dollyrockers, Just Us, Freeze, This n’ That, the Beachcombers, The Moonrakers, The Bare Wires, The Sugarbeats, the Warren Davis Band, Bay City Rollers, Tandem, 3’s a Crowd, Reflection, Arena, Wall Street Diversion, This Side up, The Writing on the Wall, The Gibsons, the Memphis Roadshow, Maxi’s Taxi, The Nightshift, Focus Colour.

Some of the Glasgow Bands in this Era Frankie Miller and The Stoics, The House of Lords, The Pathfinders, The Poets, The Beatstalkers, Dean Ford and the Gaylords (The Marmalade), Hopscotch, Alex Harvey’s All Star Soul Band, The Chris McClure Section, The Dream Police. These were wonderful days with terrific bands playing in great clubs and venues and we all clung on to them for years to come, especially me and I never regretted a minute of it. In fact as I write these liens I have been invited to a reunion gig by The Hipple People (David Valentine) and The Beachcombers (Davy Paton). So someone is still Keeping the Beat – it’s just not me. Robert Batten (Big H).

CLUB OWNERS.

International Club, Jimmy Roccio. A small Italian man with a thin moustache and full of charm. Owner of the International Club in Princes Street. He couldn’t see past the Warren Davis Band and was like a father figure to us. Thanks Jimmy. R.I.P.

Walkers Lounge Bar. Owned by partners first of all and eventually sole owned by Paddy Riley, a shrewd businessman who knew the value of the band. On Saturday nights Walkers was the place to be. It was a pleasure Paddy.

The Place. Owned by brothers Brian and Paul Waldman who were managers of my cousin Toto’s band, The Boston Dexters. They also had a great club in Putney in London and they were dynamic personalities. We always got a buzz when we played at The Place. Cheers lads.

Frisco’s and McGoos. Managed by Buddy Miller, a go-ahead guy with an eye for talent. Always liked us and had us playing regularly in the huge club. Gave us the idea for our 1990 reunion gig. A perfect guy.

Bilston Casino. Managed by Abe Moffat son of the famous miners’ leader. There were 500-600 there every Sunday night. We really felt like stars in this place. Ironic the place burned to the ground about a week after we were paid off. Thanks Abe for having great faith in us for two glorious years.

Some of the Clubs and Venues In and Around Edinburgh.

Luna Park Club, The Gamp Club, The Top Storey Club, The Scene Club, The Hive Club, The Place, Frisco’s, McGoos, The Casablanca, The Oasis Club, The Greenlight, Bungy’s, The Gonk Club, The Caves Club, The Cephas Club, The International Club, The PYC, The Cavendish, Walkers, Bilston Casino, Wallyford Miners’ Institute, Portobello Town Hall, Rosewell Miners’ Club, The Bonnyrigg Regal, Steins Club, The Good Companions, Haggerston Castle, Lasswade High School, Dalkeith High School, Prestonpans Town Hall, Imperial Hotel, The Maybury Roadhouse, The Castle Club, The Greenhill Club, The Edinburgh Palais de Dance, Harveys, Tiffanys, Fairleys, The Americana, The New Yorker, The Guildford, The Fox Covert, The Clermiston Inn, The Masonic Club, The Prison Warders’ Club, the La Bamba Club, The Bon Club, The Jewel Club.

TERESA DAWN BATTEN, ELDEST DAUGHTER (FROM MY FIRST MARRIAGE)

Teresa has turned into a lovely with a superb nature. She lives in Barcelona and has done for many years now. She is a very popular girl and has blended in well with the culture. She has a boyfriend who we all like very much. His name is Angel and they are a very very happy couple. I always tried to be part of her life when she was growing up and we had some good times and holidays together with Jackie and Lisa. She is always in my thoughts. Love you Terry.

LISA JANE BATTEN, YOUNGEST DAUGHTER (FROM MY SECOND MARRIAGE)

Lisa, like Teresa is a lovely woman and commands a lot of respect from everyone she comes into contact with. She is a very popular girl. She has a fiery temper (like me!) but she can also be kind and tender as well. She is a Manager in an Edinburgh Casino and is well liked by everyone she works with. She is good at whatever she sets her mind to and everything she does is done with Army precision. The world is her oyster. She has been married now for 14 years to Gavin a nice young man and they both live life to the full. Love you Lisa.

LORRAINE BANKS (MY FIRST WIFE)

Lorraine and I never really had a chance at life together. I was one year older than her and had never had a serious relationship. I think she was really looking for a father figure as her father had walked out on them when she was quite young. Neither of us were equipped to handle a serious relationship. When she became pregnant I thought it was the right thing to do to get married – as it turned out, it wasn’t. We were both quite volatile and it really got very depressing for both of us. It was a relief when we split up and went our separate ways. Lorraine met and married a lovely guy called Bruce and they had a good life together. We remain friends to this day.

JACQUELINE (JACKIE) OGILVIE (MY SECOND WIFE)

Jackie and I have been married now for 43 years and she is definitely my rock. We have had a successful marriage all this time and she has supported and encouraged me in all my band activities and business ventures whilst holding down a full-time job as a secretary with an office in the West End and bringing up our daughter Lisa with the help of my mother-in-law Agnes Ogilvie. Jackie always listened to my moans and groans I had about the band and businesses but never tried to dissuade me from anything. We spend a lot of time together now and I now know what was missing all those years I played in the bands. Thank you Jackie for being a terrific wife all these years. You are one in a million. I love you sincerely.

ROBERT PATRICK BATTEN (MY FATHER)

Someone once asked my Uncle Johnny if he could tell him anything about his brother Robert Batten and my uncle replied, “can you take a fortnight off your work” . My Dad was born in the tough seaport of Leith to Robert and Harriet Batten. He had four brothers and a sister. Their names were John, Harry, Andrew Frank and Margaret who died when she was very young. My father loved his mother and would do anything for her. He was intelligent at school and athletic too and was a good runner, swimmer and footballer. As a young man he took up boxing and started to fight in the “booths” to earn extra money for his mother. He had nine fights in the booths and never lost any of them. He started work in Henry Robbs at Leith Docks and quickly gained a reputation as a guy who could look after himself. His father worked in the Docks too as a coal trimmer. He was a small man who never showed any emotion to his family but my Dad had a lot of respect for him. One day he suffered a horrendous beating from a younger, much fitter man. My Dad sought the guy out and gave him an even bigger beating. My Dad was arrested and appeared in Court. The outcome of that was two choices – and one of them was two years in the Army. This was what my Dad chose as he would be able to send money back home to his Mother every month. This was the best thing that happened to him because apart from being intelligent and tough he now had discipline. He finished his two years the day before the Second World War started and signed on again straight away which gained him instant promotion. He served in Hong Kong, India, Korea and Malta and at the end of the war finished up a Sargeant Major. He was a leader in everything he did after that. Although he was a tough guy he always had a soft spot for the underdog and was always ready to help out neighbours who found themselves in trouble of some sort, even people he didn’t like. A family from Glasgow moved into the street opposite us and my Dad was always arguing with them although it never came to blows or anything like that. One day my Dad was in the Bunch of Roses g having a pint when he noticed the father of the Glaswegian family sitting in the corner looking dejected. Dad sat beside him and asked what was wrong. The man said he had received an eviction notice from the Council for not paying his rent. In those days the Council stood for no nonsense. If you didn’t keep up your rent payments the bailiffs came and threw you, your family and your belongings out onto the street and that was it. My Dad asked him how much he owed. He said they owed four weeks rent. Dad went round to the house and got the money. He always had an emergency fund in the house. Although they were never friends the man always had respect for my Dad after that. It took him a while to pay back the money but he did. A couple of months before I started writing this book I was up in the attic looking through a couple of old leather suitcases which belonged to my mother and father when I came across an old letter to my mother from a soldier friend of my fathers. He said he was writing to tell her that Dad was ok and as he was on duty he had asked his friend to let my mother know that he was alright. They were doing fire bomb duty at the Plymouth docks (Drake Island)(. Rafferty the writer said he thought my Dad was crazy at times as when the blitz started and the fire bombs started landing Dad was kicking them into the water like they were footballs. He said a bomb dropped quite near them and exploded. He dived for cover but when he came out he could not find my Dad and thought he might have been hit. Then he heard his name being shouted from a wrecked house and there was Dad carrying a little girl out from the burning house. She was crying but soon stopped when Dad gave her a penny. He then put her in Rafferty’s arms and ran back into the burning building. He came out carrying an old woman who was ok. Rafferty finished the letter by saying “Rab’s a bit daft but he deserves a medal for doing that”. When our family moved to Loganlea Gardens in 1950 our house was the centre of everything: people asking to use our phone, getting advice from my mother, getting their bikes repaired by my Dad, askind Dad to sort out disputes (diplomatically I might add). Yes, our family was at the hub of everything. Dad was also the Treasurer of the thriving Craigentinny Social Club which was very popular in the area and everybody knew him. We had a great a16 years in Loganlea Gardens then tragedy struck. My mother contracted cancer and had her leg amputated. A year later she died of the disease and the day she was buried my Father could have jumped into the grave with her as his life ended that day as well. That was October 1965. I was 21 in December of that year. My dad took to drink and quickly gave up everything including his car, his job, his Treasurer job in the Club and spent most of his time in the local pub. The Bunch of Roses where he became the focal point for everyone. He reverted to his old ways, non compromising, blunt speaking and took no lip from anyone, including me. He was still always there with help for my sister Jean and I and he gave us it on numerous occasions. I loved my old man and even in drink on a bad day I considered him to be better than anyone. My Dad lived for another 30 years after my mother died and at his funeral all the guys from the Bunch of Roses were there and it was snowing hard and freezing cold. One of the guys started laughing quietly and I asked him why. He told me that my Dad always said that when his time came and he was being buried he hoped it would be in the winter time as all the protestants would have to come and stand at Mount Vernon Cemetry and freeze their arses off! Everyone started to laugh at this. We had a wee drink that day in the Post Office Club. There were about 200 people there and we had a big drink in the Bunch of Roses later. Thanks for being my Dad Rab. You were definitely a one-off. (All the brothers were valiant). 

MADGE WALLS BATTEN (MY MOTHER)

My mother was born in Leith to Thomas and Jean Banks and her father was a captain in the Merchant Navy. She had four brothers, Sam, Billy, tommy and John and a sister Susan and like the families of the time, they were brought up very strict. As a young girl she was a helpful caring person who had a soft heart, especially for everyone who had problems in life and that was nearly everyone at that time. She was a great dancer and taught ballroom dancing for a time. My father and mother were like night and day; he was rough and ready, uncompromising and undisciplined. They met at a dance hall one night called the L Shaped Rooms and it was love at first sight for my dad. My mother was actually engaged to someone else when she met my Dad and it took a lot of wooing before she eventually broke off her engagement. She was definitely a calming influence on my father and together with that and his Army experience he turned into a real man. My mother worked in the local rope factory but stopped work in 1940 to have my sister Jean. She never worked again until 1960 when she started in the Munrospun factory. So Jean and I had her through all our teenage years. She was a wonderful mother. If we ever wanted something we knew Dad wouldn’t agree to we asked Mother first and nine times out of ten she would be able to talk him round. I never ever heard my mother swear in her life and I never heard my father swear in the house when my mother was alive. I only fell out with my mother once in my life when we argued and I stamped off to bed. About fifteen minutes later I got up to apologise to her and as I was walking up the hall she was coming the other direction to apologise to me. We hugged each other and never argued again. My father was a hard working man and my mother got everything she wanted for the house, phone, washing machine, TV and we even got a small car. We were the talk of the street as there were not many cars on the roads in these days. We even drove down to London and there were no motorways in these days so it took us about three days to get there but it was magic. I was eleven years old and we visited Trafalgar Square, Buckingham Palace, Picadilly Circus, Madame Tassauds. It was wonderful. I’ll never forget it as long as I live. My dad lived every second of his life for my mother and she was the same. She had a long hard year of suffering before she died but never complained. I firmly believe in the hereafter and if anyone ever deserved to be in Heaven it was my mother. See you there Madge. God Bless.

JANE ROSE BATTEN (MY SISTER)

Jean was working in Munrospun at this time as I did a couple of years later. Any My sister Jean was an inspiration to me when I was young. She was beautiful, intelligent, outgoing and courageous. She was a born leader, sports champion and swimming champion in both primary and secondary schools, captain of the netball team and the best jiver you ever saw. She was definitely her father’s daughter. She had a hard time from my Dad when she left school and started to work. He was pretty strict with her and up until she was 17 she had to be in by 10 o’clock at night and definitely no boyfriends. My father loved jean and was really trying to protect her from the big bad world in front of her. Sometimes she would stay with my Auntie Suzie at weekends and she would let her stay out later. The Palais was the main attraction for all the young people in those days and the Assembly Rooms in Leith was a great second option. boyfriends Jean had were soon scared off by my father. On numerous occasions I would see some poor guy fleeing for his life up the street. Jean was approaching 18 when she met Bill Henderson. He was tall, good-looking, articulate and he had a passion for bike racing. He was the Scottish road race champion. I thought he was a pleb. Jean brought him home one day and introduced him to the family. Unbelievably he was accepted and he used to pop in unexpectedly from time to time. He used to wear plus fours when he arrived with his bike and all my mates would laugh and take the mickey out of him. My dad would say, “here comes shattered”. This was dad’s nick-name for him as the first thing he used to say when he entered the house was “I’m shattered”. My dad didn’t like Bill much and I was on the fence about him but we were respectful to him for Jean and my mother’s sake. Jean had a friend called Mary (May) Bell and like me and Tony McEwan they had been friends since primary school. Like my mate Tony McEwan May was an introvert and she, like Tony, came up with some weird and wonderful ideas. Out of the blue Jean announced that she and May were thinking of emigrating to Canada and we were all shocked. In those days it was easy to emigrate to Australia and Canada. It cost £10 and it was known at that time as “assisted passage”. Jean said they had been up to Canada House and had spoken to the man in charge and he could get them jobs as children’s nannies with well-to-do families but in order to get the deal they would have to sign up to stay for two years and of course they would have to take a medical. They had decided they were definitely going to Canada and the more my mother and father tried to put them off, the more they were determined to go. Bill Henderson was destroyed and cried like a baby to my mother. I thought there and then that I was right in my assumption – he definitely was a pleb! The day finally came when Jean and May were leaving for Canada. My dad hired a big car, a Ford Consul, and everyone piled into it and we drove to Prestwick Airport for their departure. It was a huge propeller plane and the passengers had to walk across the tarmac to get on board. Just as the last passenger was about to board my dad shouted that Jean had left her coat and jumped over the barrier before running towards the plane. There were three or four security men trying to stop him but my dad was quite an athletic guy and managed to dodge past them. By this time the plane had started to move slightly but my dad was waving his hands back and forth and unbelievably the big wheels came to a halt. The doors opened and a guy came down the stairs and took the coat from my dad and within minutes the plane was on its way. Nobody could believe what my dad had done (my dad was no ordinary guy) and I wish I had a pound for every time I have told that story. Anyway Jean was on her way to Canada and we were on our way back home. Jean and May had super jobs in Canada especially Jean whose employers, The Kersons took Jean on numerous holidays in Canada and the United States but she was soon homesick. May was a surly type of girl and not very outgoing and she soon fell out with her employers and moved into town to work in a supermarket. This upset Jean too, and they both decided they wanted to go home. It wasn’t as easy as they thought. If they were to return to Scotland before the two years were up they would have to pay their own fares back home so they had to save up for it. They eventually saved enough after being in Canada for a year. They booked a passage on the Empress of Britain. We had a big party in the house once they were home and I think everyone in the street was there. It was a happy time. I was 15 and had just started to work in Munrospun and Jean and May were lucky enough to get their jobs back in the factory, so all was good. Bill Henderson and Jean were soon an item again and quickly got engaged. He was still a pleb by the way! Jean’s life altered a bit in Munrospun when a couple of things happened. There were always personalities from the entertainment world being shown round the factory, mostly home grown talent like Rikki Fulton, Stanley Baxter, Andy Stewart, Norman Wisdom, etc. This time an American singer and recording artist, Mel Torme, was in the building and while he was being shown round he stopped at Jean’s machine and chatted to her. All the local papers were there and they were all taking photographs. The story was in all the dailies the following morning and in the Evening News in the evening and suddenly Jean was a personality. Everyone in the factory congratulated her – there was no envy in Munrospun in these days and our family was on a high for a few weeks. A few months after this there was an announcement on the board in the factory about a competition that was being held by the Daily Record throughout all the factories in the Lothians and it was going to be called “The Factory Queen of the Lothians”. Hundreds of factories were going to be involved and it would be over a 10 week period. They were going to choose one girl from each factory and whittle it down to a final 10 girls. I think every female in Munrospun entered and I am sure it was the same in all the other factories. By the second week it was down to 20 in every factory and then 10 and Jean was one of them. The main subject of conversation at the tea breaks was always the competition and for some reason, no one rated my sister. It was quite embarrassing and I felt like screaming at them but I managed to keep my cool. The fifth week it was down to two in the factory and Jean was one of them. And then she was the one representing Munrospun. I had no doubt that Jean would win but all the guys were routing for the other girl and this made me mad but I still kept my cool. The weeks went by and Jean advanced from the quarter final to the semi-final to the final 10 girls. On the Wednesday of the final week were were all sitting at our tea-break and as usual we were discussing the girls in the competition. My sister wasn’t mentioned once. Big Eddie, one of the frame operators said he thought it would be a close thing between a girl from Dunfermline and a girl from Musselburgh. My pal Dave said his favourite was a girl from Newtongrange and that did it for me. I said “my sister’s got no competition here and you’re all a bunch of traitors”. I didn’t speak to anyone for the rest of the shift and as I had been working a 6am to 2pm shift that day, I clocked off promptly at 2pm. As I came down the street I noticed two or three guys standing at the entry to my house and when I moved into the stair, there were another two waiting. One of them asked me who I was and I said my name was Robert Batten. “He must be her brother” one of the guys said and they all started firing questions at me. I was starting to feel a bit claustrophobic. My dad who had just finished his shift in the Docks thought I was being attacked and waded in. My mother came to the top of the stairs and shouted at my father to stop, and he did. I shudder to think what might have happened if my mother hadn’t been there! We all went into my house and my mother said that my sister had won the Factory Queen of the Lothians title and these guys were reporters from the Daily Record. They were there to take photos of my dad, mother, me and my Uncle Frankie who had been brought up by my mum and dad. They were also going to come back on Friday afternoon and Monday morning to do all the publicity with Jean. They also told us that the results of the competition would not be made public until Friday morning when the newspaper came out and told us not to let anyone know the result. With hindsight, this was a bit strange as all the neighbours must have known by this time what the result was otherwise why were there reporters and cameramen there in the first place?! My mother made everyone a cup of tea while the reporters told us what was ahead for Jean. When Jean came home from work that day there were still two of the reporters from the Record in our house. They told her of her win and what was going to happen to her over the weekend and of course, she was sworn to secrecy. On the Thursday morning at tea break they were all talking about the same thing: the competition. Big Eddie was on his high horse. “I bet the lassie from Dunfermline wins” he said loudly. “How much?” I countered. “What? said Eddie. I just said I bet the lassie from Dunfermline wins”. “Well, how much do you want to bet?” I asked him. “Ten shillings” he said. “Well, let’s make it a pound Eddie” I said. “Do I have your hand on that?” “Sure” he said and we shook hands. I turned to the rest of them at the table and said, “I think my sister has the beating over all of those girls in this competition and I’ll bet a pound with anyone who thinks different”. I took nearly £14 in bets that day which was nearly double my weekly wage. Davie Morrison asked if I knew what I was doing betting all that money and I told him to bet on Jean. As I entered the factory on the Friday morning I could see a lot of reporters mulling around and everyone was telling me that Jean had won the competition and they were patting me on the back. I hadn’t seen a paper by then but everyone in the factory seemed to have one and there was Jean’s picture splashed on two pages in high print but none of the rest of the family. When I walked into the frames department all the guys cheered and patted my back and I felt a real sense of pride for Jean. Then I said, “never mind clapping, get the pounds out”. After an extensive photo session in the factory Jean and I were given the day off and we went home to relax. Jean was taken out over the weekend by a representative from the Daily Record and given a new hairdo, a makeover, umpteen pairs of shoes, three suits, skirts, blouses, raincoats, dinner at the Caledonian Hotel, tickets for shows, etc. it was never ending but still no photos of the rest of the family! I certainly milked Jean’s win for the next three or four weeks. Jean and Bill set a date to get married. In the meantime Jean was at a girls night out in the Palais and they were having heats for The Miss Edinburgh title. One of the girls entered Jean’s name for it and a few weeks later Jean won the title and received an invite to go to London to compete in the Miss Great Britain which was two months away. In the meantime Jean found herself pregnant and Bill and her got married and moved into a flat in the Tollcross area, Gilmore Place to be exact. When Jean arrived in London she was asked to fill in a form to confirm that the details the competition people had on her were still correct. She was told that as she was now married she couldn’t take part in a “Miss” competition but she could take part in a personality competition show. Jean won it outright and was presented with a beautiful trophy by Adam Faith the famous 60s pop singer and there was more publicity with that. Everything seemed to be going well for Bill and Jean who had just had a son, William added to the family. About a year later they dropped a bombshell. Bill had been offered a job in San Diego, California, USA, as an electrical draughtsman and the family would soon be moving there. Bill was also a semi-professional racing cyclist and he started to be away from home for long periods of time and Jean hated her environment. After a lot of conflict Jean came back to the UK with William although she was back and forth across the Atlantic three or four times trying for a reconciliation. After one of these reconciliations she fell pregnant again and had a daughter, Laurie Jane who was never going to be the apple of her eye. The last time Jean left America for these shores was when our mother was dying and the four of them came over together. It was a real sad time for our family and when my mother died Bill made it even sadder for Jean by telling her that he did not love her any more and would be returning to America alone. He made a quick exit as I think my old man would have killed him, the way he was feeling. If the truth be known he wasn’t worthy of my sister. She just made a mistake and paid dearly for it. Dad and I rallied round and she seemed to be starting to live again when she was given a Council flat and got her old job back at Munrospun and the kids into the local nursery. She was still a looker and attracted a lot of attention from suitors. She started going out with James (Jimmy) Marshall and one evening she brought him over to the house. I said it was a bad idea but she said she wanted us to all meet and see how we felt. My dad came home and flipped his lid. “What do you want with a divorced woman with two kids?” he said to Jimmy who was retreating to the door with Jean crying. We had to restrain my dad and shove Jimmy out of the door for his own good. Dad relented a bit but he never liked Jimmy Marshall to his dying day and he had good reason as it turned out. Jean and Jimmy became an item very quickly and about a year down the line they were married. They had a son Michael soon after they were married and he was a chip of the old block. As the kids grew up Laurie, Jean’s daughter, left home partly because of the conflict she had with Jimmy and partly because she didn’t like to have to stick to any rules and also of course because she had an “off the wall” nature. William, the eldest boy got married to his childhood sweetheart, got divorced, got married again and got divorced again. He couldn’t keep a long term relationship going with the opposite sex. Another chip off the old block! William was a terrific lad and was like a son to me. I am sure he could have been a professional footballer. He worked for me as the Video shop manager and he was a good worker. Michael the youngest was a bit of a loner, never had much conversation and grew more like his father as he grew older. Everyone of them could have made their mother a bit more proud than they did. Jimmy became a miserable human being. He was an avid saver from a young age. He worked tirelessly as a floor layer and made a lot of money working all over the country. The Munrospun factory had closed down by this time and I gave Jean a job in my video shop along with William, Michael and my daughter Lisa. My dad worked there as well so it was a real happy time for us. Jimmy had bought a big house in Willowbrae but there was no lavish furnishings. In fact Jean never got much money from him as he was no throwaway. He never had many friends and the only time he did have anything to say was when he was drunk and this was usually statistical information (trivia) which he had read about and then proceeded to bore everyone senseless with it. He also struck Jean a couple of times and the second time it happened, she phoned my dad. My dad was 70 at that time and he had been out at his local that night so had had a few drinks. One of my friends told me that my dad had stopped his car and asked to be taken to The Golden Gates pub at Meadowbank. When they arrived my dad removed his watch and said to his friend, “hold that Sinky. I’ll be back in a moment”. When my mate asked him what was going on he said “it’s OK, just a wee bit of trouble”. “Well”, said Sinky. “I’m coming with you”. My dad told him to stay where he was and he would handle it. Another of my pals who was in the bar at the time told me the rest of the story. He said that Jimmy Marshall was playing darts and was standing at the oche just about to throw his next dart when my dad came in and tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned round dad head-butted him. Jimmy landed with his darts beside the dart board, dazed with a lump the size of a duck egg on his brow. My dad said “don’t ever lift your hand to my daughter again”. He never did. Jimmy Marshall was definitely punching above his weight when he married my sister and he never gave her the respect she was due. I know he denied her a lot of things. She was always scrimping and scraping to make ends meet, they never had a holiday in the early days and didn’t have much of a say in the running of the house at all. In fact, it was like she just lived there. It was all his. He was always talking about all the money he had but never spent much of it on the family. I used to make excuses for him saying he never had any role models but he was a grown up and could have learned something from our family and that was that we all helped each other and cared for each other when the going got tough. I just don’t think Jimmy Marshall had the capability to care for anyone else other than himself. He eventually started spending some of his money but by this time Jean was in her 60s and he would pick a cheap week in Spain and even bought himself a wee car but it’s too little, too late. Jean is now 74 years old and suffers with Alzheimer’s. She hates Jimmy with a vengeance and it’s getting worse. I do feel sorry for him believe it or not as my dad had it too and he lived with Jackie and I for a couple of years so I know what it’s like looking after someone with this horrible disease. It is a very difficult situation. But being the type of guy he is, he doesn’t want to listen to anyone’s advice because he thinks he knows everything. I love my big sister. She was always a star to me. I think she deserved a better life than she had but she just got on with it and being of the same faith as me, she knows better things are coming.