On Vernon‘s birthday, I am publishing here an extract from his “Youth” on his musical education. Doing it my way may prove to be a more effective strategy than the one he used when trying to teach me about music… 😉 The links will no doubt help!

I invite you to listen to some of the music that moved Vernon and find out about his favourite composers and musicians.

My musical education

Father’s influence

Piano lessons from 12, by sixteen I could already knock off a few Beethoven sonatas, Schubert impromptus, Mozart rondos, Debussy’s easier pieces. Father, being a music buff, took me to gramophone concerts (78 r.p.m) at the local library. There I heard Tchaikovsky, Rachmaninov, Brahms, Beethoven.

My music teacher got me platform tickets

At school, the music teacher got me platform tickets for the Hallé Orchestra at Sheffield City Hall. Occasionally we’d get a treat –City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, with its deep, velvety string sound. I sat on the cold stone floor of the platform all the way through Brahms Symphony No. 1. I cared not a jot. Great works of art give me the sensation of a long, important journey, somewhere in a distant galaxy. I was hooked, a music buff like my father before me.

at Sheffield City Hall

At the City Hall, I heard Benno Moiseiwitsch playing all Chopin ballades and scherzi. Duke Ellington, Errol Garner, Ella Fitzgerald. Other memorable performances were Rossini’s Semiramide Overture and “Symphonic Metamorphosis on Themes by Karl-Maria von Weber” by Paul Hindemith. Long title, delightful music.

All this served to isolate me from my contemporaries

“Classical music? How can you listen to that shit? You’ll poison your brain.”

So, I’m isolated from the working class because of the grammar school system. Separated from half of humanity (females) by having to go to a single-sex school, and from my classmates for choosing Spanish.

“Bloody Spanish! What possible use is that?”

I’m a loner, but I’m a lone romantic. The grammar school system was socially divisive while the single-sex school system produced a generation of sexual obsessives. My friends who went to co-eds were so much more laid back. I was once invited by them on their daytrip to Blackpool. Girls and boys all together on the same bus like in the real world outside, living naturally.

On that trip, I realised what a good idea choosing languages was.

There was one girl sitting alone   ̶ The French exchange student. Why alone? She was a looker. Because nobody could be bothered to talk to her ̶ except me! I sat beside her and chatted to her in French all the way to Blackpool. This went no further  ̶ maybe she wanted to practice English or she simply didn’t fancy me.

I had the power of communicating not just in English

The important part of this encounter was the realisation of the power I had. I could do something the other boys couldn’t. I could communicate with foreigners. The power to get me closer to my dream.

And to those who ragged me for doing Spanish, the so-called “Layabout’s subject” a few facts:

• Spanish is the second most widely spoken language in the world after Mandarin Chinese. English comes third.

• Spanish has around 500 million native speakers. (And the best of it all for me: one of the 500m would, much later on, become my dearest wife and business partner, Paloma. But this is another story)

How could well-educated grammar schoolboys be so ignorant?

I put it down to “Post imperial trauma syndrome”: British is best. Up with the British and down with the rest.

They still sing “Rule Britannia” with gusto at the Last Night of the Proms. Nearly all foreigners find this laughably quaint. “Jerusalem” doesn’t annoy me so much because it’s kind of socialist and I lived near the densest concentration of “dark satanic mills” in the country.

From classical music to rhythm’n’blues and rock’n’roll

To get some pocket money I had become a paperboy. Talking to other paperboys I noticed they were obsessed with a fellow named “BERRY”. Confusing as there are two “BERRYS”: Chuck Berry and Dave Berry.

“You should hear this stuff”

“Could you lend us a few records?”

“Yeah but you must bring them back. Cost a fortune. Specially imported from the US of A.”

I put on the records. “Bye Bye Johnny” “Johnny B. Goode” “Sweet little sixteen.” Recordings sound as if made in al old tin shed. “Reeling and Rocking”, “Maybelene”, “The Jaguar and the Thunderbird”.

Although Father doesn’t like it…

Enter Father.

“Turn that din down!”

“It’s the latest craze among the initiated. Direct import form America.”

“Should send them back there!”

… I’m in raptures

Then came Ray Charles. “ The Genius sings the Blues.” I’m in raptures.

Back at the newsagents ̶

“How was it?”

“I’m hooked”

“There’s Dave Berry on at Frecheville Co-op on Friday. Like a ticket?”

“I’m game.”

Saw Dave Berry and the Cruisers. Real earthy rhythm’n’blues.

“This band is better than the ones you see on telly.” I particularly liked “Diddley Daddy” with guitar solo from Frank Milesand and Dave Berry singing “Memphis Tennessee” just like Chuck Berry.

Sweet sixteen…

In 1961, on my sixteenth birthday, I sold my bike and with the proceeds bought a natty charcoal grey suit. Armed with my plain, no pattern bright yellow tie I was elegant ***.

***Paloma’s note:

I wish I could’ve found a picture of Vernon’s wearing that suit…I might not have agreed with him concerning that yellow tie. But the only picture I’ve been able to find which may be from around that time is this one with his brother Nigel and mum Mind you…at around that time I was all but elegant… For some reason, Vernon was particularly fond of this picture when he first saw it at my mum’s, even when the glass got cracked. But my brother made an everlasting frame, the only breakable part being the glass protection.

From the ballroom…

Enrolled for classes at “Constance Grant’s Ballroom Dancing Academy” on Fridays where I quickly learned to waltz, fox-trot, cha-cha-cha and twist. Plenty of talent but predominance of broad Yorkshire a bit of a turn-off.

to the Minerva Tavern

In the interval, we went to the Minerva Tavern to hear Johnny Hawk and the Falcons. Loved their rendition of “Shakin’ all over” by Johnny Kidd and the Pirates. I was now a rock and rhythm’n’blues buff.

I abandoned the dancing classes and went to the Minerva every night.

(On the next episode, Vernon meets Joe Cocker and joins his band)

Vernon’s Youth is what he was writing back in 2018. This was meant to be part of what he entitled “A life of sorts”. He only completed this part.

Vernon used to tell many stories about his years before he met me, which I heard many times. So I suggested he should write them down. The following is a selected extract from what he wrote about his years at Chesterfield Grammar School. From eleven to eighteen.

Vernon as a young lad. Chesterfield & Sheffield

Vernon’s youth: From eleven…

From my earliest days I led a dual life. Before Sheffield’s imperialist land-grab my parents’ house was just one hundred yards over the boundary into Derbyshire, so when I passed the eleven-plus I was sent to school in Chesterfield, twelve miles away. I had two sets of friends, one set in each town. They never met.

With my friends in Sheffield

Among my best friends in Sheffield was Graham Earp, better known as Grez, a lad with a sardonic sense of humour and an ability to play blues and rock guitar. We played together in the front room, at youth clubs and sometimes in local pubs. We even joined a group “Screaming Lord Dave and the Ghouls.” Horror bands were all the rage, the best being “Screaming Lord Sutch and the Savages” whom I had the pleasure of seeing once at our local ballroom, the Azena. I’ll never forget their opening instrumental, “Peter Gunn” by Henry Mancini, then the entry of Sutch himself dressed as “Jack the Ripper” with a twelve-inch blade knife which he used to lunge at the grand piano, causing an indelible scar. All the kids were scared stiff.

& my friends in Chesterfield

My friends in Chesterfield were also rhythm’n’blues fanatics. What pleasure listening to “Walk on the Wild Side” by Jimmy Smith; “If you want to make a fool of somebody” by James Ray and “Money” by Barret Strong.

…To eighteen

One of my best R&B friends was Jeffrey Pountain. “Fancy seeing Muddy Waters?”

 “Where?”

“At the Fairfield Halls in Croydon”

“Count me in”

I told my parents I was going to spend the weekend in Chesterfield. The moment I got there, out we were on the A6, thumbs out. Got to London early morning and slept on the Circle Line for a few hours, then went to see Jeff’s brother, Richard. A bite to eat, a quick snifter, then the commuter train to Croydon.

We saw the whole Chicago blues trail, Muddy, Willie Dixon, Otis Spann, Victoria Spivey and many more. Seventh heaven!

After the show we got the train and underground to the North Circular Road. Thumbs out. Very lucky. All the way to Chesterfield in a souped-up Austin Mini-Cooper. My Mum and Dad never knew where I’d been. The adventure of a life-time at the tender age of eighteen.

The weather was getting chilly in that October of ’63. Grez and I tried to keep warm in the pub. Bonfire night was approaching. Bit parky! Went on pub crawls, some rhythm’n’blues played in my front room. Did a few more concerts at local pubs and youth clubs. Just an ordinary October. OK but tedious. All fun but really all I’m thinking of is girls.

Beginning to get a bit bored when suddenly I received a mysterious letter out of the blue…

But this is another story and does not belong in the POPPIES’ blog. Here I will only publish those extracts from Vernon’s Youth which I deem of interest and suitable for this blog.