How I met George Melly

[Christiern]

They have a George Melly thread over at the Blindmans Blues forum, so I used the opportunity to post a recollection of my first meeting with George. It then occurred to me that I might as well clutter up the Big O yet another memory lane trip. It was March 17, 1953 and I had come to London with my tape recorder, a monstrous B&O, to record Humphrey Lyttleton. The next day, I missed my boat train for my return to Denmark and Cook's told me that it would be 3 days before the next one. They also informed me that only first-class tickets were available on the boat, so I had to pay the difference. That left me with 3 homeless days and 10p, which was just enough for a cup of tea in a shop at Old Denmark Street that I knew to be frequented by Chris Barber.

To make a long story short, Chris showed up, lent me £1 and a 3-day stay at his house. That serves to se the scene for the following.

Chris told me to meet him at the Metro that night at 10:30 and that I wouldn’t have to pay admission if I mentioned him to the guy at the door. This meant that I had several hours to kill, so I spent the first few wandering around Soho, window shopping, eventually making my way to Dobell’s record shop for an extended browse. Ten o’clock finally came and I arrived at the Metro just in time to catch the tail end of the Mick Mulligan band’s last set, which included a Bessie Smith number sung by George Melly. What a character he was, but I would see more evidence of that later in the evening. When Chris introduced me to him, Melly said something about a jazz party and insisted that I be brought along. Then he dashed off with a “ta ta” and a “see you there” that almost sounded like an order.

After the band packed up, Mick, Chris and I stuffed ourselves into a cab that already held a couple of band members, and took off. Chris gave the driver an address. “Get there as fast as you can”, he said, explaining to me that these parties were first come, first serve affairs. After what seemed like an endless ride, we finally reached our destination, a dark street in the north of London, lined with attached, identical houses.

After a short wait, someone opened the front door just wide enough to get a look at us. “How many?” asked a a young man, it being too dark for him to do a head count. “Five,” said Chris, and the door opened wider, revealing a pallid man of about twenty and quite nervous. “Come in,” he said,

sotto voce

, gesturing for us to follow him up the narrow staircase, “but please be quiet.” As we approached the second floor, music greeted our ears, a dirge-like blues from behind one of two doors. Our host, for that was who he was, opened the door and let us into a room that, at first, seemed to be unlit. The air was heavy with the blues, smoke, and a peculiar odor that was like none I had previously encountered. Well, what did I know? I was just an innocent young Dane, getting my first whiff of weed without knowing it.

Slowly, my eyes grew accustomed to the dim light and I could see that we were in a living room with people lining the walls and enjoying the show. Show? Yes, for in a cleared center of the room were two young ladies and a dining room chair. The women—fashion school students, I was later told—wore one-piece, tight-fitting black corduroy outfits, had black hair that dropped below their shoulders, and large cigars with which they made a variety of visual suggestions. They seemed perfectly choreographed as they interacted with the chair, and each other, writhing sensually under the direction of a masterful conductor, George Melly. He was having a great time, undulating his arms to the slow, mesmerizing beat of Johnny Parker’s severely handicapped upright and Bruce Turner’s Bechet-like soprano sax. At one point, the two women engaged in an erotic embrace and a languid kiss, all of which pleased the onlookers and turned my face red—but nobody could see that. As I looked around the room, I saw an odd assortment of couples, some draped over stuffed furniture like discarded clothing, others lounging on the floor, and all smoking and drinking. I had never seen nor imagined anything like this, so I guess my shock was showing, for Chris found it necessary to explain to me that these “jazz parties” were very popular, that everybody had “a lot of fun,” and that I should just relax and not worry about a thing. He added that this was our host’s first jazz party, hence the edgy nerves.

At one point, those nerves were tested by a knock on the door. The music stopped as the neighbor from across the hall made a polite complaint—his children were having a hard time sleeping with that music going on. One of the guests, a lady who had the downstairs flat, suggested that we could all continue the party there. We did, but it took a different turn as she undressed herself and held court in an alcove bed. The shock I had felt upstairs was mild compared to what I was now experiencing.

Chris and I found a seat and were approached by George Melly, who scanned me with his eyes. “Did you say you were Danish?”, he asked. Chris told him that I had recorded Humph’s band at 100 Oxford Street the night before and that I would be staying at his house for a couple of days. “I bet he’s got lovely legs,” Melly said. “I’ve seen those Danes at Wimbleton, they’ve all got lovely legs.”

If there had been a hole for me to crawl into, I would have, but Chris and the others were used to Melly, so they just laughed.

Daylight came and I felt a sense of relief as we stepped out into the damp London air and made our way to the Moo Cow Milk Bar for a cup of breakfast tea. How green I was back then!

Many years later, at a New York book party, George Melly asked me to autograph a copy of my Bessie Smith biography. He smiled as he read my insciption: “I hope you admire this book as much as you once did my trousered legs.”

Edited February 23, 2008 by Christiern

[sidewinder]

Fascinating !

BBC have just repeated the documentary 'George Melly's Last Stand', about his final struggle with cancer and dementia, even filming through to the last few days. A totally unique character - musician, music/food critic, angler and general all-round bon-vivant. His last gig was at 100 Club, 100 Oxford Street, not very long before he died.

Edited February 23, 2008 by sidewinder

[The Magnificent Goldberg]

Fascinating !

BBC have just repeated the documentary 'George Melly's Last Stand', about his final struggle with cancer and dementia, even filming through to the last few days. A totally unique character - musician, music/food critic, angler and general all-round bon-vivant. His last gig was at 100 Club, 100 Oxford Street, not very long before he died.

Also cartoonist - wasn't it he and Wally Fawkes who were the original Trog?

MG

[BillF]

A girlfriend of mine, back in 1961, told me that Melly once leered at her from the stand and said, "You've got nice legs!"

[sidewinder]

Fascinating !

BBC have just repeated the documentary 'George Melly's Last Stand', about his final struggle with cancer and dementia, even filming through to the last few days. A totally unique character - musician, music/food critic, angler and general all-round bon-vivant. His last gig was at 100 Club, 100 Oxford Street, not very long before he died.

Also cartoonist - wasn't it he and Wally Fawkes who were the original Trog?

MG

I think you're right !

[sidewinder]

With regard to George Melly TV programmes, my favourite of his was that one from a few years back called 'Jazz Dives' where he goes round the country in an old van checking out places he played or stayed at back in the 1950s on his tours of that time. Much is no longer standing but some interesting 'cellars' were uncovered. Soho and Manchester seem to feature prominently. By that time George already had his eye-patch but his humour was very much compus-mentis.

[Steve Gray]

Chris

With regard to the recording you made of the Lyttelton band, where was that issued? Is it available?

Thanks

[Christiern]

Steve, I'm afraid my Lyttleton recordings were never released, nor was that ever the intention. Some of them were aired over the Danish Radio in 1953, but otherwise they just rest in my tape pile. Jepsen's original discography did include these recordings, although I don't know why:

Humphrey Lyttleton and His Orchestra

Humphey Lyttleton (trumpet); Wally Fawkes (clarinet); Bruce Turner (alto sax);

Johnny Parker (piano); Mickey Ashman (bass); George Hopkinson (drums)

Max's Restaurant, 100 Oxford Street, London - March 16, 1953

1. Revolutionary Blues
   
2. Texas Moaner Blues
   
3. Shake It and Break It
   
4. On Treasure Island
   
5. Coal Cart Blues
   
6. Chicago Buzz
   
7. Mahogany Hall Stomp
   
8. That Da Da Strain
   
9. Apex Blues
   
10. Jive at Five
    
11. Farewell Blues
    

Mike McKenzie Trio

Mike McKenzie (piano and vocal*); Neva Raphaello (vocals **); unknown bass and drums.

Same place and date

1. St. Louis Blues
   
2. Baby Won't You Please Come Home **
   
3. How High the Boogie
   
4. It's Only a Paper Moon *
   
5. Dr. Jazz **
   

Humph and Turner play clarinet and Hopkinson, washboard on Chicago Buzz

Farewell Blues has a jam session feel with Humph's band joined by Archie Sempel (of the Freddy Randall band)

Humph's trumpet is heard on Dr. Jazz and Baby Won't You Please Come Home.

[Steve Gray]

Thanks Chris.

I didn't think they could have been issued.

I am particularly fond of that line up, with Fawkes and Turner, and without a trombone player.

They were both wonderful soloists and I really wish I could have heard that band myself.

Steve

[Guest Bill Barton]

Great story!

Thanks, Chris.

[sidewinder]

I am particularly fond of that line up, with Fawkes and Turner, and without a trombone player.

When I saw Humph's band around 1978 I think they were back in the lineup, along with Kathy Stobart. A fine front-line !