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.
MASSACRE AT MASCOT
As 1957 and my job at Eric Andersons’ drew to a close, Ryanny and I went to one of the first rock’n’roll dances at the Sydney Town Hall on Monday, December 16. It starred Johnny O’Keefe whom I had seen earlier that year at the Stadium on the Little Richard Show. We paid our seven and sixpence admission and the dance started with Alan Dale and the Houserockers. Ryanny and I weren’t too interested in dancing, although I do remember “cracking onto” a chick called Coralie who was jiving around in a white, flared skirt. We were there to see the bands.
The line up of the Houserockers was Don Prouse on drums, Keith Sharratt on slap bass, Brian Turvey on piano, Sonny Neville on guitar and Alan Dale on vocals. They certainly had the right spirit for rock’n’roll. It looked like we had come to the right place. The next band was Col Joye and the Joy Boys, who didn’t sound too bad either except they didn’t have a bass player. Their guitarist was fantastic! The line up of the Joy Boys was Dave Bridge on guitar, Laurie “Zeke” Irwin on sax, Kevin Jacobsen on piano Col Joye on vocals and rhythm guitar. At that time, younger brother Keith Jacobsen had not joined the band on bass. He was still busily trying to build one as it was impossible to buy an electric bass anywhere in Australia.
When the final band came on — Johnny O’Keefe and the Dee Jays — it was magic! This was the first time we’d seen an Australian band with an electric bass and not one sax but two! JO’K came out in his canary yellow suit with a cape and the crowd went crazy. This really was a rock’n’roll band. The line up was Lou Casch “The Witchdoctor” on guitar, Dave Owens from USA on sax, Johnny Greenan on sax, Keith Williams on electric bass, John “Catfish” Purser on drums and Johnny O’Keefe on vocals and occasional piano. After talking backstage with JO’K and some of the guys in the Dee Jays, I was really inspired to get out and form a band.
I notice at the end of my 1957 diary that cousin Ray came good and conned up a gig at Mascot RSL on New Year’s Eve with his friend Bruce “the Goose” Hyland on bass. Ray played the piano and we were paid seven guineas each! I even attempted to sing my first song (You Hit The Wrong Note), Billy Goat. I imagine that I must have hit quite a few wrong notes, myself!
1958
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
