Nick Ewart and the sport of gas pipe clay shooting

I first met Nick Ewart, when he turned up at my house to courte my sister. I was still in the 6th form at school, but worked for my father as a driver as well. This of course affected my school work, and I was desperate to change tack from the daily grind of maths physics and chemistry. I had opted out from games and used to sit on the school flat roof, above Leeds, drawing. Nick was already at Leeds College of Art, and said why didn't I just come to the college and join in. They could only throw me out. I became Steve Crow, The real Steve Crow spent all his time in the snooker club behind Leeds City Varieties, and was at the point of being thrown out of college. So I became him. I amassed a great volume of work, Leeds College of Art "black drawings," pottery, lettering. I could use the lathe which I had mastered at school, so I was really happy there.
 Obviously my school attendance was light. I couldn't opt out of anything else. Assembly was off as I already didn't go, I said I was Jewish, and refused to sing hymns. Eventually I was called into the headmasters office, and given a lecture on how I was only fit to be a fitter in an Engine works, and I should get my hair cut. My mother never made me get my hair cut and accompanied me to the interview. At the end of his advice my  mother, all 5 foot of her, stood over him and said, "Headmaster my son is made for better things than a fitter, and as for the hair you are as bald as a coot, why not let him enjoy his whilst he has it?' So I applied for Art College under my own name. Term time had already started but they granted me an interview, as they were short on numbers. During the interview, it was stated that I looked familiar, I said yes you will have seen me as I go the the school next door and have friends at the college, so I am sometimes in the building. I applied to be a product designer, and with my Science O Levels was accepted to do that. Once in, I was free to choose any course. I chose graphics but with hind site I would probably have made a better product designer.
I'm sure the Principal realised who I was, or in fact wasn't, He had suspended me from the College, a month before, for participating in blowing clay* from a first floor windows at the Architectural students, using half inch gas pipes. Me Nick and Trevor Varley were the culprits, but as I wasn't a student, I took the blame, they couldn't suspend me as I shouldn't have been there anyway, but I was barred from the building. Fortunately for the interview I had grown my hair and started a moustache, but I'm sure he knew. The reason could be, as I found out later, that every one in the College disliked the Architects, as they were all from monied backgrounds and had flash cars, as opposed to most in the C.of A who lived on crusts and a penny worth of jam from the canteen in order to afford a pint.
Nick was 2 years above me, and had joined at 16 straight from school. However he was 2 years younger than me, so it seemed to work and we became best mates. He left, with no qualifications, for London, and became a top packaging designer. Talent will out, proving that if you are good enough you don't need any letters behind your name.
* For those who wish to take up the sport, this is how it is done.
Take 3ft of 1/2inch metal gas piping. Run water through it to make the inside slippery.
Put a wad of very wet modelling clay in to the mouth end of the pipe. lean out of the window and blow, like using a blow pipe. It is remarkable how far it goes, and it ends with a very satisfying splot.

PIZZA EXPESS FULHAM ROAD

In 1968 A Pizza Express opened on the Fulham Road. The walls were an Op Art extravaganza painted by  Enzo Apicella. On the Saturday of the opening week a party of us decided to give it a try. Sandy, Michael Abrahams, (my cousin) Rick Browne and myself, were in the vanguard. Our first pizzas arrived at 12.30pm. During the course of the day most of our friends and trendies from the Kings Road, came, ate, and went.  A lot of photographers with models in tow were amongst them.  All the girl models were dressed to kill and braless. By 10pm we were into our 3rd pizza and 8th bottle of red biddy. Sandy eventually got fed up with our commenting on the braless girls, stood up removed her bra, threw it across the room and never wore one again until she was 50.So the pizza not only started a food revolution, but a breast revolution as well.

Jammy Douglas, alias Dancing Dave

LEEDS CENTRAL HIGH SCHOOL, my Alma Mata, was situated on Gt. George Street, next to Leeds College of Art. The Mecca Locano Dance Hall in Leeds was in the County Arcade, now part of The Victorian Quarter and a stones throw from school. It had a lunch time disco session, entrance a sixpence, the price of a bag of chips with a fishcake. Me and Jammy Douglas, would bunk out of school and jive the hour away. School cap and tie removed and hair duck tailed with Brylcream. Jammy was a superb dancer, taught by his big sister, a Ballroom Competitor. I took my steps from him, and became an expert in the 'Jive.' The trick was to step in on two girls dancing together. When the girl taking the girl part twirled around Jammy would catch her out held hand and I would step in and take her place. if we were lucky these two girls would be our partners for the whole session. No words were exchanged just dance steps. When the session was over we would return to school sweaty but ready for double Maths. Jammy eventually became known as Dancing Dave, among our set. Incidentally Jammy got his name, not from being lucky, although after his naming luck came his way, but from an English lesson in 2A. We were reading Prester John by John Buchan, and someone, was asked to read aloud a passage from it. In this passage was a character named Jamie Douglas, which he mis pronounced as Jammy. Henceforth Dave became Jammy.

Ed O'Donnel and Brian Herbert

When I was a student at Leeds C of A, I made my beer money by driving Ed O'Donnel's band to gigs. I have just learned that he has died. Through him and the band I had a wonderful time as a student making many life long friends. One, Brian Herbert, has also just died, he had the Banjo chair nailed to his arse. When at school we rode the tram, and with him went his banjo. He discovered that if he hit a certain note, a fellow traveller on his way to work in Leeds would twitch. The poor mans ride was never the same after that. However back to Ed. Not only was he the leader of the band, but he was also the Male Model for the college. His wife Anne, taught jewellery at Leeds, in fact she made Sandy's wedding ring, and Ed was learning the craft to eventually teach it himself. One day I was working late on a graphics project, when Ed came into the studio, and asked if I had anything he could practice his engraving on. I had made a plain silver ring for myself and handed it to him. "What initials do you want on it" 'Oh put anything on it I replied" The ring came back with BALLS engraved on it in beautiful script. This ring became my pride and joy. I lost it some years later, and Sandy had him make me a replica, as a surprise. God knows where it is now. Brian eventually took up the guitar and if Eric Clapton had ever heard him on it he would have hung his up for life and taken up golf.

Trevor Winkfield

At one time Sandy and I had a flat each in Mentone Mansions. How this came about is another story. She took over a room in flat 9 which was at one time used by Trevor Winkfield, who was at the Royal College studying painting. When he left for pastures new and fame and fortune in New York, Sandy moved in. Winkfield was an existentialist into Duchamp. One of his works he left behind in the flat which consisted of three pieces of hardboard painted green of increasing size, entitled, drawing for a green field, sketch for a green field and "A Green Field" pretty cool uh?
He was giving a lecture once at a Midlands college. John Cage, the composer was supposed to be giving a recital in the evening but could make it due to illness. Winkfield said he knew Cage and could do the recital for him. This he duly did to a standing ovation. However Winkfield could not play a note and just played anything for half an hour including long pauses. He had cheek or chutzpa if you're a New Yorker or speak Yiddish. Anyway when I finally moved upstairs to live in sin with Sandy, we would find that occasionally someone had been in the flat cooked, a meal and left the washing up. This continued for several years until I changed the lock. I t turned out the it was Winkfield who was the culprit, as he had kept the keys to the flat when he left. His cheek knew no bounds as he complained at the lock change. Look him up on the web.bombsite.com/issues/999/articles/3285
 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZaMjcElpfK4
Trevor if you ever read this. Hi

Chelsea Part II

The landlord of the studio also owned a 3 story house in Munro Terrace off Chelsea Embankment by the houseboats. It had recently become vacant and asked if we would like to rent it. It was too much for me and Johnny, but we formed a syndicate. Myrtle Healy would take the ground floor, Johnny Clamp the middle floor and me the attic. It was very handy for me as I could use the photographic facilities of Myrtle and Johnny and I recruited Clive Tunnycliffe another designer to share the attic. Quite a creative enclave. Eventually Johnny Clamp who was always short of money, halved his outgoings by involving another photographer to share his studio. Eventually, Jerry Mason took over the whole of Johnny Clamps part as he departed to Worthing to become a tutor at the art college. Jerry Mason and I formed an art director / photographer partnership that lasted 20 years.

60's part the III Sandy's Boots

It was winter and Sandy my then girl friend (now my wife) needed some boots for the snow. As we crossed the crossing by the Worlds End, Peter Sellers and his latest squeeze Brit Eckland crossed before us. They were window shopping for boots too. In the store the boots Sandy wanted were a knee length suede with crossed lacing all the way from the ankle to the top and fur lined. A beautiful boot. Sandy tried several sizes on and settled for the 5 1/2. As I got out my cash to pay, the assistant came over and said that we couldn't have the boots after all, as Brit Eckland wanted them. The assistant pleaded with us, but the more the plea the more we refused. Eventually Brit herself came over to plead here case. Wrong move. Sandy, as beautiful as any starlet, refused to part with them. I knew Miss Eckland vaguely as she lived in Billing Place behind our mansion block, but she always blanked me in the Fox and Pheasant and in Mr B's who cut her hair and mine. She turned to me to ask Sandy to give her them. Another wrong move. I don't answer for Sandy, she is her own woman. Eventually they left disappointed. Those boots were admired everywhere, and still to this day give us both the pleasure of remembrance.