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.

Speaking of Miles

Speaking of Miles. I was leaning on the barriers next to the Garden Stage at Nice. At my elbow was Dizzy. We were watching the George Wein all Stars. Miles had just finished his set and was being escorted back to the artists compound. As he came level with us Dizzy called to him. 'Hey Miles why do you play that shit ?' Miles without breaking stride raised his hand and rubbed his thumb and forefinger together in a money sign. It spoke volumes. Dizzy just chuckled and followed him into the artists area.

Miles Davis

One day Jim Campbell said to me, 'Why don't we get a stall at the Nice Jazz Festival and sell some posters of our shots we took last year.' I usually got hold of a press pass as a photo journalist, so I had lots of shots that I used as reference for airbrush drawings.
I designed and had printed 3 lots  of A2 posters of one set of each of Miles, Chuck Berry, and Lester Young, based on my drawings plus one set of Getz, Dexter Gordon and Johnny Hodges using black and white photos. On arrival in Nice Jim Campbell who was escorting Rose Hayes, decided he didn't want to have anything to do with the stall after all, and left me to set it up and man it.
I had a pitch next to the garden stage, against the arena perimeter. It was in full sun and blazing hot. The first day I sold one to a member of the Basie Band of Hodges, who asked for a pair of scissors and removed the part with Hodges on it, and discarded the rest.
The next day I had a visit from Miles's heavies, dressed in dark suits and shades, who pushed me up against the fence and stuck a gun in my ribs. 'Nobody sells pictures of Miles without our say so', said the one without the gun. 'But it's an air brushed drawing not a photo,' I said. The grip on my throat tightened. 'No one sells photos of Miles unless we say so, capiche ?
'Capiche', I said I'd had enough of being a lone stall holder. So I packed up and went to the merguez  stall and had merguez and frites and a bottle of Stella.
I left the posters in the cellar of the block of flats I was staying in. The original airbrush drawing of Miles hangs in my kitchen in Wimbledon, a constant reminder of my brush with Miles Davis.
By the way for those who are interested you can buy a copy of the above posters from my web site
www.martyapple.com

Stan Getz's set up

I was trying to play one of Getz's solos yesterday, and in doing so realized that my sound was too harsh to sound like him. It reminded me that a couple of years before he died I was visiting The Nice Jazz Festival with Rose Hayes. She new Getz through Tubby and introduced me to him. I asked him what set up he had and his reply surprised me. At the time he was using a  rubber Link 5 with a 2.5 reed. Nothing jaw breaking and obviously trying for an easy blow. He was recovering from cancer treatment at the time so whether this had a bearing on his set up I don't know, but he managed a 2 hour set with just him and piano accompaniment. I will have to look up the program to se who the piano player was. I was fortunate enough to be on the side of the stage that night, and the time just flew by. Getz weaved a magic spell that had the French audience in raptures. The set was early evening, about 8 p.m. and still blazing hot, on the Arena stage. One of the best times of my life, even capping the day I met ken Mackintosh, which is another story.