Phil Everly

It was Easter, and I got a call from Pye Records that Phil Everly was in town for a few days and they needed a photo of him for a sleeve. Easter in the 70's was singularly Holy time. Nothing stirred but church services. The next day, being Good Friday was treated like a Sunday, and it made London like a ghost town. However being the true pro that I was, I used this to my advantage. I picked Phil up in my yellow mini traveller from his hotel. The car was as far from a Boss Mustang as it could be. It had a mini front end and a van like back end with wooden surrounds. (See picture), but it flew like shit of a shovel. I drove down to Shepherds Bush market, Marble Arch to the Bush in 5 mins flat. All the lights were green and not a soul about. I stopped in front of a shuttered shop front. It was painted red and hadn't seen a paint brush in years. Just the arty farty background I needed for the shot.

I wanted to use him as a small figure with this shutter behind him, but alas the marketing men got at it and and it ended up cropped to head and shoulders. It may as well have been a passport photo, it had as much charisma. Phil asked me what was there to do in this one horse town.
'Not much at Easter but pray. But he could come to my flat on Sunday for a traditional Sunday roast dinner.' And I could show him the delights of the Kings Road on Saturday, just a spit from my place on the Fulham Road.
All through this time he kept saying that we have met before in L.A. and that he knew my face. As at that time I had a bright red moustache that covered most of the bottom half of my face, and hair down to my shoulders, I probably resembled half the hippies in California. We finished the shoot in about an hour and I dropped him off at the hotel soon after as he had to be in the studio that afternoon. I gave him my contact details, and he promised to turn up at the flat when he was done.
Sandy, my wife, was quite a fan of the Everly Bothers and started planning the meal, who would come, who would sit where.
We always had quite a few to lunch on a Sunday. I told her not to go to much trouble as he would probably not turn up. Of course I was right, but he did call and ask me to visit him in L.A.
I never did make that trip.

Sharon Osborne

In the 1970's Sharon was running the fan club for  WIZARD the Roy Wood extravaganza. One of my drinking friends in the Fox and Pheasant in Billing Street. was Tommy the chip. His wife was a pretty girl with masses of black curls, and an almost completely round figure. Sharon looked exactly the same. Together they resembled two bookends fashioned as female Humpty Dumptys. She worked for Sharon's father,  Don Arden (another story). and it was through her that Sharon asked me to design stuff for Wizard.
All went well until it was time to pay for the work. Don Arden had a reputation for not paying his bills and my partner at Design Machine, Nick Nicol, warned me not to do the work as the cheque would not be forthcoming. He reckoned , with out Sharon in the mix. Although I had to wait until Arden was in the buiding, Sharon would bowl into his office and demand the money calling him a tight c***. Occasionally the cheque would not be honoured, so she would raid his safe for the cash, which was stuffed with notes. The lads from the Fox & Pheasant all tradesmen, did work for Don Arden on his house on Wimbledon Common. They had the same experience. His reputation of carrying a gun and being prepared to use it held no truck with them. Come Friday the cash was paid or else. Sharon the go between made sure no violence took place.
Rumour had it that when she finally fell out with her father, she flew to California and sold his house there and kept the money. He may have owed her the cash for all I know, and he may have asked her to sell it for him, but I never saw her again after that, except on the television, a shadow of her former self, but still showing that nothing fazed her.

Bradwell on Sea Gig 2012 & Ken Mack in Blackpool
The Mack Big Band played in the village hall in Bradwell on Sea on the 15th September. We had them rocking in the aisles. This has become a regular annual gig. The locals love us, as they should. Look Bradwell up on the map and you will see that it is nearer Holland than London. So a professional big band playing in the Village Hall is a treat for them. No travel, no congestion charge. The West End came to Bradwell. One of our regular Saxes couldn't make it so we booked in a top player as a dep. Unfortunately he became emotionally tired and fell asleep on the stand, and occasionally woke up to honk a few random notes. Fortunately the rest of us were playing so well that no one in the audience noticed. The encore New York New York, finally woke him up to ask, 'how do I get home?
Stranger than truth!
Which reminds me of a Ken Mackintosh anecdote.
The ken Mackintosh band were playing a season at the Tower Ballroom Blackpool. One night the drummer didn't turn up and it was too late to book a dep. so the band when on the stand minus drums.
At the interval, Ken was in the bar and a guy came over to speak to him. Ken thought he was going to complain, but no he was full of praise for the band. Ken asked him what he thought of the drummer.
The man said, marvelous. Ken pushed his luck and asked him if the tempo was right.
'Spot on ', said the man.
No This is not a drummer joke, but the truth.

The Van

Ken was trained as an engineer before the war and so was never fazed by buying a wreck and doing it up.
The Van was an old Ford Transit diesel that he converted to petrol. This meant that it was under powered, so all the weight of the equipment plus 3 up front and as many as 4 in the back sitting on garden chairs, slowed it down to a maximum of 45 mph. At the time of owning this van in the twilight of the big band era Ken never drank alcohol. His driving was erratic never the less, and because of loose king pins on the steering the van weaved from side to side. It was considered unusual if he didn't get stopped by the police.
'Have you been drinking Sir?'
'Never touch the stuff'
'Mind if we take a look in the back'
Ken always opened the back doors. From there with the amps and speakers, music stands, etc., the police couldn't see the passengers behind all that stuff.
'I'm Ken mackintosh you know?' said Ken invariably.
Sniggers from the back.
'Are you smuggling illegals?'
'Only from fucking Yorkshire' Then added, 'Just musicians'
As we had all had a drink we were beside ourselves with laughter. 'Fair cop, officer'
'Lock him up'
The police eventually got to recognise the van and stopped it, but just for a chat, and to say that their Grandmother used to dance to him at the Palais.

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Label Actions...  New Label...  Select: All, None  1 – 1 of 1 Your Posts: All, Drafts, Scheduled, Imported, Published Edit     The First Lesson Ken decided that I needed sorting out. I was invited over to his house in Edenvale Road Mitcham. It was an end of terrace house with the downstairs rooms knocked through into one. It was packed with stuff. He sat in a high backed office chair at a desk covered in things that reflected his hobbies and interests. A radio ham set up, a morse code key, and bits of saxophone. I set my sax up and blew the key of C.  'Not a bad sound' said Ken, but a bit flat. I pushed the mouth piece on. 'Blow a long note, try an F.' I blew an F. I was so nevous that my embrochure, sounded like a a man on a vibrator. Ken took the sax off me and blew a run. ' Nothing wrong with the sax, it must be you. Over the next 6 weeks he completely destroyed my sound and then built me up again. Eventually he said. 'You'll do, it will come. PUBLISH SELECTED DELETE SELECTED

Joining The Ken Mackintosh band

After a few weeks of chatting to ken Mackintosh over a hot forge, he eventually told me that if I wanted to progress as a player I should join his rehearsal band. This band practiced every Tuesday in a Church Hall on Streatham Common South side. St Andrews I think it was. Neither my reading nor my competence on the sax was good enough for this kind of exposure. So I declined. However those who have known Ken know that "no" is not an answer he likes. So eventually I set off for Streatham, with some apprehension.
(The furthest south I had been since my trips to Thornton Heath to get my Camero serviced.) Without satnav a futuristic device that didn't exist, and a dog eared A to Z where all the roads I wanted were in the crease, I got lost. This did not go down well with Ken. 'Got lost !' Have you turned into a southern fop?'
He said to me across the work bench.  I got lost the next week too.
Eventually I found the place and walked in during the second number. 'Better late than never, go over and sit next to Wally and see if you can follow the part.' The piece was 'This could be the start of something big, a Nestico arrangement. I got lost after the first bar. Ken sat behind a bench in front of the band, his worn alto case on top of it and his alto resting inside ready for action. Also on the bench was a small Casio keyboard an amp and a speaker, he used the built in drum machine to set the tempo when there wasn't a drummer. He rehearsed  the sax solly a few times, said it would come, and called out another number. I thought it would never come. It was all too fast for me. And this was without my sax. Wally Glen, a seasoned pro, who was in  2nd Tenor chair, advised me to just keep my head down, don't answer back, and I would survive.

My First Ken Mackintosh Experience

After my first run in with sax repairs at Lewingtons I realised that I could do it too. I had studied engineering at school passing the practical with ease, on lathes and milling machines etc. As it transpired the nearest College to learn this trade had its workshops at the end of my road in Wimbledon beside what is now the tram tracks. So I enrolled onto a course in sax repair. On the first day I took up a space at the end of the bench beside the forge. A week later I arrived early and set up in the same spot. After a few minutes a big man with fingers like sausages arrived and started to set up opposite me. When he had laid all his tools out he looked at me and said 'I usually sit where you're sitting'. I apologised said we should swop. He studied me for a second then said, 'You're not from around here are you ?' 'Nor are you I replied. 'So you know who I am then ?' he said. 'You're Ken mackintosh, I said. 'From Cleckheaton' It was the day that changed my life.