Читать книгу Behind the Rock and Beyond - Leon Isackson - Страница 11

With my ever-trusty friend Ryanny by my side, we went off in search of musicians who could play rock’n’roll. We had heard about a band called Warren Williams & the Squares playing at Mascot Masonic Hall. The band wasn’t too bad but the guy on the piano, Jimmy Taylor, must have been the best rock’n’roll player we had ever seen. He could play all the Jerry Lee Lewis solos, note for note. I sat in with the band on drums and Jimmy and I must have decided then and there to form our own band.

Although there was no booze allowed in the hall, (Sydney was still operating under the dreaded ten o’clock closing laws for hotels) just after 10pm all the older drunken rockers would crash into the dance and try to pick up chicks. Failing this, the next best thing was to pick fights. Ryanny and I seemed to be a prime target that particular night. We had just sung the vocal backing for the song Daddy Cool with Warren Williams and were sitting on the stage surrounded by girls. A procession of guys came up to us, saying “We’re going to get you after the dance”. I could feel myself getting more and more unnerved as sporadic fighting was breaking out all over the hall. One rather obnoxious looking bodgie with slightly protruding teeth was bugging me continuously. “Do you guys wanna fight?”, “We’re gonna get you guys!”, “You guys are poofters!”, “Are you guys too scared to fight?” etc. Too scared? He was right.

Suddenly my fear was shattered by a blow to the side of my face. I felt a rush of adrenalin as I stood up and instinctively threw a punch, which happily landed right in the middle of his ugly face. He landed flat on his back. I don’t know who was more surprised, him or me!

I felt somebody grab my arm. It’s all right, we’re on your side!” he said. After moving back to safer ground near the very nervous band, I saw more fights break out. One guy was being mercilessly pounded up against a wall. Much to my horror, I recognised him through the blood on his face to be the one who said he was on my side. All too soon the dance was over. I was reminded by a few comforting souls that the bodgies were all waiting for us outside the front door. While Bert Gobbe was anxiously carting his drums to the front door, a voice called out, “Quick, follow me. There’s a side exit. You can come in my car!” It was the guy who ran the dance, Harold Haggerty. Ryanny and I quickly shuffled out the side door and into Mr. Haggerty’s little Morris Minor. As he put the key into the ignition I could hear a voice calling “There they are, there they are!” A pitiful sound came from the ignition: “un nu nu nu nu nunnah err!”

All at once we were surrounded by a gang of bloodthirsty rockers clawing at the windows. Then “hun nu nu nu nunnah ...BROOOOOM!” What a beautiful sound! The little Morris Minor sped out onto the road with fists pounding on the doors and bodies falling off the bonnet. We had escaped with our lives. The one consolation was we had found a piano player for our proposed rock’n’roll band. Not only that, but the guy I had smashed in the face no longer had protruding teeth!