大象传媒

This story was left by Vic Jones and was typed by a member of staff at Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery

In 1924 my father (a theatre percussionist) left Birmingham for London to join an orchestra playing with the Wembly Empire Exhibition. He never came home to live with us again.

That year I was one year old and my brother four years, and as my father rarely sent us any money we lived in poverty. To make matters worse, no sooner had I started school at five years old than I developed a heart condition, and most of my school life was spent lying on the settee at home. Mother taught me to read and write when I was seven or eight years old. Apart from that my education was nil. However, in 1935 we aquired a radio and just lying on the settee gave me the opportunity to listen to those wonderful orchestras and dance bands broadcasting everyday. I developed an ambition to play drums in a dance band one day.

In 1937 I was fourteen years old, only 4 1/2 stones in weight and knee high to a grass hopper. I decided enough was enough, so I went and got a job in a factory working a 48 hour week, which amazed everyone and gave my mother quite a shock. At the end of the first week with 2/6d (12 1/2p) pocket I was off to the local music shop to buy a pair of rythm brushes. At the end of the second week I bought a pair of drumsticks.

Now I could accompany the orchestras and dance bands playing on the radio, using anything that came to hand as a drum. When I borrowed books from the local library on learning to play the drums. I discovered all the practice beats notation in drum music. So I taught myself to read time and then I was on the way to my ambition.

Towards the end of 1938, now aged fifteen years. I had assembled a basic drum kit (mostly Premier) . But as I could no afford a hi-hat cymbal stand I made myself. It worked perfectly I now had a 24 inch bass drum, 5 inch snare drum, cymbals and two tom toms with tuning on the top heads only. There were no skins on the bottom. One fitted inside the other for transporting and small accessories could also be stored safely inside. Space was critical as my kit travelled in a trailer I towed at the rear of my bicycle By now I had three regular evening gigs in Birmingham city centre, two in one venue and one in a second.

I was sixtenn years old when war was declared on Germany in 1939. Then came the dreaded announcement that all places of entertainment had to close down immediatley. Fortunately it was the start of the phoney war and as nothing happened, entertainment was once more underway.

The air-raids began in 1940 and the only restriction placed upon us was that entertainment had to finish at 11.00pm.

We still played for dancing whilst air-raids were in progress, even though both venues were on first floors. If the dancers wanted to carry on, and most of them were in uniform and on leave, we played on, to the sound of anti aircraft guns and falling bombs.

November 19th, 1940 was one particular night that stays in my memory. We packed up at 11.00pm and left the premises at 11.15om. The city was in chaos: the sky was glowing red. 100 yards away New Street Station had a direct hit on its main signal box. Normally it would take me ten minutes to cycle home, but there were diversions for unexploded bombs, fires and craters everywhere and hosepipes accross the roads. When the anti aircraft guns fired their shells into the air, down came the shrapnel like rain. Then you had to take shelter! In now way was I going to put my drums at risk. Would you?

Two hours later I arrived home (and you never knew if it would still be standing when you got there). About the time I arrived home the place where I had been playing had a direct hit by a land mine. This I was to discover when I returned to the city in daylight hours. It was flattened.

But within a week I was again playing in a new venue 100 yards away. There was no time to stand and stare.

From the start of the air-raids I also had to do two nights firewatch duty. This was on the factory premises where I worked and you were on your own, which was not very pleasant when a raid was at its height. I often wonder how we managed without all that sleep. You still had to turn up for work the next day. All this came to and end in early 1942, I was 18 1/2 when my call up papers arrived and I was drafted into the army. In 1940, I had volunteered for the Home Guard (Dad's Army) but as I have no sight in the right eye they said I was useless to them. Obviously the regular army were less fussy.

After my call up there was only one more minor air raid on Birmingham. Could it have been my drumming they objected to?

Soon I was playing drums with my company dance band, and as usual only in my spare time. My military duties always took priority. In July that year (on my 19th birthday in fact), I was detailed to play drums for the British trumpet player, NAT GONELLA. He was with "Stars in Battledress" and had coem to give us a two hour concert.

On being introduced to Nat Gonella he asked me "Can you read the dots?" I assured him that I could. He then replied "You can forget that lot. We've no time to sort out the music, I hopw you can improvise".

All went well and as I was a fan of Nat anyway, I knew his style, On month later I was on embarkation leave, and soon set sail to an unknown destination. No one told you where you would end up. It did cross my mind that I might never see England again. Even more so on the occasions when the convoy was attacked: your life passed before your eyes.

We arrived in Egypt just as Alamein was captured by our forces, but General Montgomery's target was Tripoli, Libyia - 1400 miles of desert away. So for the time being my drumming was on the back burner: there was more important work to be done. The Germans fought a very hard rearguard action all the way with constant artillery fore, minefielsds and regular visits from the Stuka bombers. It took around three moths before we finally captured Tripoli on the 23rd January 1943. I was 19 1/2 years years old and had lived a lifetime. Thousands of troops never lived to see the day. We were not soldiers, only civilians in uniform doing our best.

Having arrived in Tripoli I stayed there as part of the occupation forces, so once again I was playing with various groups from trios to seven pices, still in my own spare time. By this time I was a S/SGT with even more duties to perform. Nevertheless I was never far from a drum kit.

You cannot imagine what state some of those drum kits were in! You had to make the most of them. They were always a challenge. Never would you find rhythm brushes or drum sticks. But remember those I bought in 1937? I had carried them in my kit bag everywhere I travelled. I still have them today.

When the war in Europe came to an en mid 1945, I was asked to play with the Tripoli Theatre orchestra. This was in reality the Band of the Royal Signal Corps and there percussionist had returned to England to get an early discharge. In fact I was in the R.A.O.C but no one else was available. They played dance music, big band, jazz and lots of orchestral music, so it was essential to be a good reader.

As usual my military duties came first, but we had some good times. In November 1946 I had completed four years in the Middle East and had to return to England.

But it was to be March before I got demobbed and returned to Civy Street. Now I could have gone professional, but I got married to my pen friend of four years. I was looking for a quiet life. Believe me playing at soldiers during wartime takes a lot of getting over.

Many memories remain of the good tiems when I was helping to entertain thousands of service personnel. I was one of the fortunate ones who did come back, but the scars will never go away.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.