Chronicles Part IV - 1965 onwards (3)

Where was I? It's been a few months since I wrote my last epistle for the Chronicles - it's about time I moved matters on a bit.

As I said before, memories come back in strange ways and it's sometimes difficult to get events in the exact order that they should be - or I would like. The latter half of the 60's was, naturally, a very impressionable time for me - I was in my late teens, approaching the ripe old age of 20, which seemed ancient at the time.

Having got through the first two years of CA exams at the Institute in Glasgow by 1966, my "reward" came in 3rd year - that was when we were packed off to University full-time for a year. No work - just attend classes and study - and we still got paid by the firm we were indentured to - albeit at a paltry rate - I think it had risen to almost £250 p.a. by now. We were also able to claim a full grant for attending university, so, all of a sudden, I was (comparatively) well off.

Glasgow University was (is) a wonderful institution - especially the Men's Union (as it was then called - no doubt it's unisex now). I spent a lot of time there - too much as it transpired. On the top floor was the snooker room - I had played a little at some of the seedy basement clubs in the city centre, so I wasn't quite a beginner. Over the course of the next few months, however, my skills improved immeasurably - a direct factor of the time I spent there. Some of my friends didn't quite believe it and kept playing me for money and losing - they couldn't seem to accept that I had improved from the novice I had been before I had time for cheap, almost daily, practice.

I went on to win our faculty snooker competition and was awarded the trophy by Donald Ford (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Donald_Ford), a C.A. who had made a bit of a name for himself playing football for Hearts (and Scotland).

The joys of the Men's Union didn't stop there. Right down in the basement was the famous Beer Bar - a drinking den if ever there was one. On the ground floor, to the right of the entrance, was the debating chamber, which doubled as a dance hall at the weekends, and in midweek was used to show cartoons - mostly Tom and Jerry - at lunchtimes. I soon learned the difference between a "genuine" Tom and Jerry - i.e. one produced by Fred Quimby (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fred_Quimby) - and the sub-standard alternatives. If they dared show anything other than a "Fred", there were loud howls of derision. I wouldn't be surprised if they're still doing it today - nearly half a century later.

Also on the ground floor, to the left of the entrance, was the lounge area, where, on Sunday evenings, there was a thriving folk club. This was a real education for me, seeing stars of the day like Hamish Imlach, Matt McGinn and Watt Nicol (http://www.wattnicoll.co.uk/) - the latter changed careers later on and went on to become a motivational speaker whose clients included the Scottish Football team! I soon got to know all the words to all the famous, traditional Scottish and Irish folk songs - Sunday evenings were great fun.

The mid to late 60's where when cafes/coffee bars as a social meeting place for teenagers were going out of fashion and the pub became the place to be as soon as you were tall enough and - if you were male - your voice had broken. Dance halls were also an attraction - Glasgow had always had a few, like the Lindella, which bred the likes of Lulu, and also the Maryland, where I first went to see my first live "soul" act - Jimmy James & the Vagabonds. He's still touring today, I believe. He went on to have a few hits and appearances on the Top of the Pops in the mid 70's, but, in those days, he and Geno Washington (& the Ram Jam Band) were much in demand due to the huge interest in American soul music, principally from the Stax label, which featured the one and only Otis Redding, along with Booker T & the MG's and countless others.

The Locarno and the Majestic (Magic Stick as the locals called it) were other, rather older-fashioned dance halls which had survived since the Big Band era, but they were gradually losing business as the new decade beckoned to the new "discotheques", or discos for short. Joanna's became very popular, as did the White Elephant - but more of that later - I'm getting ahead of myself again.

There was, too, the Highlanders' Institute if you fancied a wee birl, and just round the corner was the Mitchell, where I first saw the Beatstalkers, who all Glaswegians believed were going on to great things - but it never happened for them, although it did (eventually) for their rivals, Dean Ford & the Gaylords, who went on to become Marmalade, of whom more later.

Back at the University, the Men's Union used to have dances on a Saturday night. I remember seeing Tear Gas there - they went on to join Alex Harvey in making up the Sensational Alex Harvey Band, which still tours today - even although Alex himself has long gone.

Some time around the late 60's, a couple of us decided that, rather than play for somebody else's team (Woodside, near Maryhill in my case), we would start a local amateur football club of our own - and that was when Knightswood Amateurs came in to being. We were reasonably successful and gained a couple of promotions in our early years, playing in the West of Scotland Amateur Leagues, and participating in the Scottish Amateur Cup. Geographically, it can be quite a large area to travel - particularly so when it's cup matches.

I recall travelling up beyond the lochs in a little mini-bus to places like Arrochar, playing the match, then coming home for a bath (most clubs had no facilities in those days), then dashing out to meet the lads for a few swift pints - usually in the Beer Bar at the Men's Union - then nipping in to the dance just  before the last bell rung. In those days, it was 10 pm closing and last orders were 9:50 pm. I can remember arriving in the Beer Bar at 9:30 pm, swallowing 3 quick pints (of cider!) - all for 4/- (4 "bob", or, in today's money, 20p) - that's right - it was 1s 4d per pint (less than 7p) - and still being in the dance hall before 10pm.

University wasn't just good for my snooker, entertainment and drinking - we also had regular indoor football going as well. No wonder I flunked that first year there and had to repeat it. Neither my boss nor my parents were too chuffed, I seem to recall.

For some reason, I didn't rush to get my Provisional Driving Licence and I was 18 before I started to learn. Mum was working at Prosser's, the car dealer near St. George's Cross, so she was driving past Glasgow University every day anyway, and, eventually, I took over at the wheel and that was how I learned to drive. I only needed a couple of quick lessons to prepare me for the test and that was me. It all came too easy and I was a bit too cocky as I found out later.

In Summer, 1968, we decided to go on holiday to Scarborough. "We" consisted of Colin McKay, Johnny Duncan, Roddy MacLeod, Chris Douglas and me. I drove, taking Dad's Prefect - I think it was maroon and it must have looked something like this model:

We were almost there, when I decided to overtake a couple of cars, but discovered after I had made the first move that we were on a downwards left hand bend - I genuinely hadn't seen the warning sign. I lost control and the car spun off the road, turning over a couple of times. We all got out OK and most of us were unhurt, but Johnny's arm had been damaged and he had to go to hospital, and was subsequently off work for several weeks, losing his wages in the process.

The Police arrived on the scene and one of them made a point of walking me back up the hill to show me the bend warning sign, which I should have noticed. Dad's car was wrecked and we had to get another car (Roddy's Dad's) down to take us home - I was not allowed to drive!

We did have a decent holiday at Scarborough, despite this awful start - although it must have been harder for Johnny. John Peel was playing a local disco, introducing the new band called Jethro Tull. We tried to get in, but failed - it was mobbed.

Racing forward a full year to Summer, 1969, this time we decided to travel to Torbay. I remember us staying in a little caravan between Paignton and Brixham, watching a tiny TV as Neil Armstrong landed on the moon. I think it must have been about 3:30 am UK time by the time he did it, and it was a real struggle to keep the eyelids open - somebody must have managed and wakened the rest of us up to view the historic moment when Man first walked on the Moon (or a Hollywood studio if you're one of the conspiracy theorists).

Here's a photo taken during that holiday - interesting camera angle:

Johnny Duncan, Roddy MacLeod and me

At least I'd earned my holiday that year - I had finally managed to pass my re-sit exam year and could now return fully to my work and indenture, starting my 4th year in Autumn, 1969 - one year later than planned, but I was still only 20, so had time on my side - and the new decade beckoned.

To be continued.