Читать книгу Behind the Rock and Beyond - Leon Isackson - Страница 9

“Hail, hail, Rock’n’Roll,

The beat of the drums loud and bold”

— Schoolday, Chuck Berry

LEON: I have faithfully kept a diary, otherwise known as the “Crazy Book” to those who couldn’t understand why I bothered, for every day of my life since 1955. There are three days in August 1956 that I circled in my diary as the best days of that year.

DAY 1, SATURDAY, AUGUST 11, 1956: I had just turned fourteen and was in love for the first time with a girl called Pam Mannile. This day I had plucked up enough courage to ask her Italian parents if I could take her out on a date that night to Ashtons Circus. To my great joy and surprise they said “Yes”! Pam was even allowed to wear lipstick for the first time. Wow! I was taking out a real live girl. I don’t remember what the circus was like. I was too busy holding her hand and looking at her every minute.

My thoughts of kissing her goodnight were soon dashed by her father lurking patiently by the front door. But it didn’t matter. I was so excited that I danced all the way from Chiswick to my home at Abbotsford where a party was still in progress with a real live band.

This was often the case at Abbotsford. My sister Borise was married to a bass player, Alby Hawtin, whom I absolutely idolised. He was forever bringing his musician friends around for a jam. My trick at these parties was to mime Spike Jones and Stan Freberg records. It was quite a big two-storey house next to the Animal Quarantine, the “Quag” — my favourite hangout, where I could pretend to be Tarzan. I lived at Abbotsford with my Aunty Glad and Uncle John, their son Ray and my elder brother Van.

Apart from the occasional live band, lots of weird and wonderful people came to our house at Abbotsford. Even Jack Davey, the star of stage screen and radio-taxi, came one night, which really impressed the kids at school. So much so, I sold them all autographed photos for a penny each. Cousin Ray seemed to know everybody! He was engaged to Dawn Lake, who later married Bobby Limb when they swapped girlfriends. I remember Dawn quite fondly. I thought she was beautiful. She bought me a pair of football boots for my birthday and I wore them to bed. I think I must have been in love with all of Ray’s girlfriends.

Cousin Ray was truly amazing; he was my hero. He took me to the Sydney Stadium and introduced me to Louis Armstrong and his band. I can still remember the thrill I got when Ray introduced me to my idol Buddy Rich who seemed to know him. I got his autograph. “Here you are kid,” he said patronisingly. A couple of Ray’s ‘real’ musician friends Terry Wilkinson (piano) and Johnny Green (sax) didn’t even have day jobs and had actually played with Frank Sinatra! Ray really did know everybody. He probably knew Al Capone. After all, Ray was a used car salesman!

Aunty Glad and Cousin Ray both played the piano and even my dad, Andy, played the banjo. I used to refer to dad as “the man who comes around” as I had always thought that my aunt and uncle were my parents. I had been living with them ever since my mother was killed in a traffic accident when I was two years old. Much to my father’s disgust, my first “drum” was one of his old banjos, which I used to bang on for hours, playing along with every record in the house. My brother Van had started learning the drums and when he gave up I took over. It all seemed to come so naturally. This was better than playing the piano. This was something I could get my teeth into. Meanwhile, back to my three great days of 1956. The best was yet to come.

DAY 2, AUGUST 12: Spent a pleasant Sunday on our pushbikes, following Pam around Abbotsford like a puppy dog.

DAY 3, MONDAY 13: My Aunty bought me my first real drums! Bought on hire purchase from Harry Landis for £49/10/- (forty-nine pounds, ten shillings) — a gleaming white set of Olympic drums consisting of a bass drum, snare drum and cymbal. I spent the rest of the day and night playing for anyone who would still listen. I was on top of the world despite the shattered look on my aunt’s face as she pondered the wisdom of her purchase.

Nothing could stop me now. They were indeed the best three days I could ever wish for. I might even get to kiss Pam Mannile next week at the pictures. (For the record, I did!) From then on, when we had parties at our place or any place for that matter, I could play the drums and pretend I was a “real” drummer.

Well I didn’t set the world on fire right away. After all, I was still at school. The records I used to practise with on my radiogram (remember radiograms?) started to change towards the end of the year. I remember my brother Van brought home a 7”, 45 r.p.m. record and we marvelled at the look of it. That was only the half of it — when we put it on it blew my head off! It was Bill Haley & the Comets singing Rock around the Clock. “A novelty fox trot”. And I’ve still got it!

Later in 1956, on Monday, October 1 to be exact. I went to the pictures with — you guessed it — Pam Mannile — to see the movie Rock Around The Clock. Now I’d been impressed by some movies before that, namely The Glenn Miller Story, The Benny Goodman Story and The Man With The Golden Arm (or was it The Man With The Golden Horn?). I nearly took up the trumpet on the strength of that one. Thank God I didn’t as I nearly passed out when I first blew one.

Anyway, this movie was different. The whole audience was bopping and shaking in the aisles and wearing strange new clothes. Something was happening. Rock’n’roll was rearing its ugly head and I wanted to be right in there!

By the start of the next year, January 1957, there they all were at the Sydney Stadium — Bill Haley and his Comets and Freddie Bell & the Bell Boys. This was no movie. This was real! Even the fact that Bill played the songs a little faster than the records didn’t put me off, or anyone else, judging from the reaction of the crowd.

By this time, I’d practised with every rock’n’roll record I could get my hands on. Not to mention all my old jazz records that I dearly loved — Gene Krupa, Buddy Rich, Louis Bellson, etc. I was very passionate about my records even then. They were like personal friends. I remember wearing out one record and when it finally broke I buried it in the garden with a little cross inscribed, “Here lies Rudy’s Rock”. Playing the drums with records was all good practice but it was about time I got out and played with a real band (or anybody for that matter!)

My best friend, Johnny Ryan, “RYANNY”, who looked like James Dean, had an elder brother Vince, who played saxophone in a band at the “rock n’ roll dance” on Sundays at the Parramatta School of Arts. It was hardly a rock’n’roll band but Ryanny and I would hang around hoping that I could play the drums with the band. I thought I was pretty good at this stage and so did the band. I had absolutely no fear. Vince actually got me my first paying job in 1957 on Saturday August 3 at the Callan Park Hotel, opposite the “Loony Bin”. I was paid three pounds, ten shillings (£3/10/-) — fantastic! Saxophone, piano and drums were not exactly rock’n’roll but who cared! The next job at Ryde Masonic Hall paid the princely sum of £4. A bloke working a few nights a week could get almost £20 at that rate. In 1957 the average weekly wage was less than twenty pounds.

But back to the real world. I had left school and would no longer hear those endearing words “Get out Isacka, ya mongrel!” I had also left my beloved Abbotsford and moved to a small house in Enfield. Yuk!

Now it was time to get the obligatory day job.

After failing an interview with Channel 7 (Cousin Ray said he knew the General Manager), I got a job in the record department of Eric Andersons for £5/8/9 (five pounds eight and nine pence) a week. Record and music stores were the meeting place for all would be musicians so I thought I would be right in the thick of it. I mean even the guy in the office was a “real” musician. Harry played the tuba in Graeme Bell’s Jazz Band. The guy working with me was Richard Meale who later became quite a distinguished classical composer. No wonder he was disgusted in my choice of records! Not only was I a “musical troglodyte” but I played the drums as well!

My dad was never impressed with me taking up the drums either until I sat in with the band at the Enfield Boulevard Hotel, just around the corner from our new house. The band was Serge Ermol Snr., Johnny Golden and Mickey Kaye. On Tuesday September 24, 1957 I won the talent quest playing The Golden Wedding and my dad just couldn’t believe it.