lead guitar and Dig Richards on vocals. The dance was hosted by popular top radio DJ, John Laws, who at that time was vying for first place with Bob Rogers and Tony Withers.
Our equipment for the dance was as follows — sound system: One hired AWA 20 watt amplifier plus two grey painted speaker-boxes with 12” speakers and one Ronette crystal microphone. Kenny had a Framus guitar. I had a new Levin F-hole guitar with a sliding Moody pick-up and a four (count them!) four watt Moody amp. Barry had a Dandy drum kit — “Dandy” was the brand name, not the sound! Roger had a tea-chest, stick, rope and sore fingers. Not quite your quadruple four-way sound system with pyrotechnics, but it did the job and the kids at the dance had as good a time as they would have at a top venue with a major band of today. All with no booze — and certainly with no drugs.
Sex, drugs and rock’n’roll were merely seeds in the mind of the 1958 teenagers. There were no drugs or booze at dances. The rock’n’roll was beginning to gain a toehold but après dance sex was very hard to accomplish, especially with the ironclad step-ins that some of the girls wore. I was still a virgin at this stage but definitely in there trying to change that! We started up dances at Northbridge, Chatswood, Fairfield, Cabramatta and the Sky Lounge and Phyllis Bates Ballroom, both in the city. This was hard for me as I didn’t have a car (most kids my age didn’t) but fortunately Barry bought an ancient Fordson van and he would ferry most of us and the gear to all the dances. A lot of times though, I had to get a train or a bus. We also had a dance at the old Brookvale Theatre where I used to take my latest girl, Sylvia Reeves. She was the TOTAL girl in the petrol ad. It’s great to see your girl up on a sign selling petrol when you don’t even have a car to take her home in! I was in love again but still no “amazing rumpo” — not for want of trying, mind you. The dance at “Brookie” Theatre and Sylvia’s home at Seaforth, were both a long way from Strathfield and a long haul for me on bus and train, carrying a guitar and amp.
We were still wearing the red jeans and black and white striped Ivy League shirts and shoestring ties. After a while, my mother made us some light blue drape-shape coats with black lapels, which we wore with the ever-popular black pants. Dig had a horrendous leopard skin pyjama-type suit with moccasins to match.
Most of the dances are a bit of a blur to me but there are a few other shows we did that stand out in my mind. One was Australia’s Amateur Hour, recorded at Lane Cove Town Hall. We won! But the most memorable part of the night for me was autographing the inside of a girl’s thigh.
We also did a series of Coca Cola beach shows at a lot of Sydney beaches. They were good fun and we met a few other bands as well. Johnny O’Keefe was on the Manly show with us at the old pavilion. By this time JOHNNY O’KEEFE & THE DEE JAYS were more established than us. His band had been going since 1956. On another show we met Alan Hurst & the Wildcats. They had a guy playing the first pedal steel guitar I’d ever seen — and playing damn good rock’n’roll on it too. His name was Kenny Kitching and he became one of Australia’s best pedal steel players.
Another rather interesting show was at the Manly Embassy Theatre. They had a movie for one half of the program and bands for the other half. Johnny O’Keefe was on the bill and so was COL JOYE & THE JOY BOYS. We were all pelted with dog bones, light globes and anything else the audience could lay their hands on!
After playing on Howard Craven’s Rumpus Room on radio, we thought it was time to move to TV. We knew a few people at Channel 9 because we hung around the general area, Willoughby. Brian Henderson had a show called Accent On Youth, which was later to become Bandstand. Somehow we got on and really went well. Like most TV shows then, they had a live audience with kids dancing and general pandemonium so you could gauge the reaction to your performance. Dig got into much trouble from the soundman for lifting the mike stand up high and almost ruining an expensive Philips microphone. He also nearly wiped out some of the lighting as well.
Barry had the absolute gall — thank heavens — to put a huge sign in front of Brian’s rostrum saying: “DIG RICHARDS & THE R’JAYS — FOR BOOKINGS PLEASE RING (his home number)”. Believe it or not, we actually got quite a few bookings from that dreaded sign. After all, we were now television stars!
2 THE BEAT OF THE DRUMS
“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.
