“I wanna love you each night,
Oh, let me say I might,
Love you each night and day.”
- I Wanna Love You. Doug Richards.
JON: Dig Richards & the R’Jays had become the first band to ever play live on Brian Henderson’s Bandstand and soon after in August, 1959 we started our own show, Teen Time at Channel 7, which was on at 5.30pm on Monday nights. We eventually ended up doing this show two nights a week for two years. It was our main source of income. The show was hosted by Keith Walshe who dubbed me “the red headed terror”. The hostess was Carol Finlayson – a top sort! Teen Time was a great experience and features in greater detail later on.
We were still using the same old gear so Barry and I decided to update. Seeing as I was working at Nicholsons, I got a 10% discount so I bought a Hofner electric guitar with a very thin solid body that I later fitted with the first whammy bar in Australia. A whammy bar was a tremolo arm used for changing the pitch of the strings as you pulled it up and down. Barry bought a new Premier drum kit. Almost immediately after that I got the sack from Nicholsons. I think the lady, appropriately named Miss Wolfe, who was in charge of the record bar, didn’t like me. Maybe I was a smart-arse or something! Anyhow I went to work in the hat department of Robert Reids, a wholesaler. God it was boring! Until I met a nice girl there called Patty. We had a bit of a fling; she came to a few shows and then disappeared.
The first place we used the new gear was at a dance at The Entrance. This was an important night for me. Finally I cracked it! I scored! Amazing Rumpo! We had a little after-show party back at the holiday flats we were staying at. This was the first of many after-show parties and we all got very pissed. Barry Lewis then put his fist through a door and the party started getting rough. I found this delightful young girl (I was only 16 myself!) who was a couple of years younger than me. Her name was Mellie and I took her into the flat next door. We stayed there all night and most of the next day. It was a wonderful experience and I never saw her again. This happens a lot – never seeing them again, that is. I don’t know what it was that made my luck change. Maybe it was the new guitar!
Also it was decided that a change of band personnel would not go astray so Barry and I went to a dance at the Lane Cove Town Hall where Deke Drew & the Rebel Rousers were playing. I think they called themselves that because it was the only song they knew! They must have played it ten times. It was a Duane Eddy hit. Anyway, we thought the guitarist would be good if he learned bass, which he agreed to do, and we pinched the piano player as well. The guitarist-cum-bass player was PETER BAKER and the pianist was JAY BOOGIE famous for his left hand ‘nunga-nunga’ boogie runs.
Peter made himself a copy of the American fender bass and called it the “Off-Fender”. It must have been one of the first electric basses around. You see, at this time you could not get any American equipment in this country. Now, with electric bass and piano, the band started to sound pretty good.
Our sax player, Peter Marris left us at this time. His girlfriend didn’t want him to play in a rock’n’roll band because - too much competition from female fans I suspect! Marris was later replaced by Laurie Goodfellow and what a good fellow he was.
We rehearsed in the little storeroom that belonged to the CBC Bank at North Sydney where Barry’s father was the manager. We learned a new song, an original, written by Dig’s younger brother Doug, called I Wanna Love You. Doug was a miniscule “nerd” at the time and no one realised the talent that this boy had. Dig signed a contract with the A&R (Artists & Repertoire) man of Festival Records, Mr. Ken Taylor, and with a simple little guitar riff, (Da Dah – Da Da Da Dum Splang!) which I discovered on the 12th fret, WE WERE ON OUR WAY!
HARRIS STREET ‘59
Number 223-229 Harris Street, Pyrmont was the address of Festival Records, the leading record label in Australia in 1959. Our first encounter with this establishment in June, 1959 was the recording of Dig’s first songs: I Wanna Love You and its flip-side or B side I’m Through, both of which were written by Dig’s little brother Doug. We carried our gear into the studio, with mixed feelings of excitement, apprehension, wonderment and a certain fear of the unknown, through the main office with a few giggles and a lot of looks from the more junior members of the female staff.
Our intrepid band of travelling minstrels was greeted in the studio by the following personnel who were to become our recording colleagues for about eighteen months. They were Mr. Ken Taylor – A & R (Artists & Repertoire) man, loosely translated as GOD; Mr. Hal Saunders – Musical Director, actually remembered quite fondly as a kind of “uncle” to us; and Mr. Robert Iredale – Engineer, a bespectacled rather studious person with a very cutting (and splicing!) sense of humour.
We set up our gear where we were told to and we tuned up. Robert set up the microphones to pick up the guitar, bass and piano but none for the drums. They were too loud anyway!
“Okay, let’s have a run through,” bellowed Robert through the talk-back. So saying, we all burst into I Wanna Love You.
“Not with the vocal you nincompoops! That goes on later!” Whoops! Does this mean we have to play the song without Dig singing? How are we going to know where we are? We had never done this before but after a few tries we started to get used to it. After the third try another bellow came through the talk-back.
‘I’m getting this awful booming sound in here,’ said Robert from the other side of the glass. “You’ll have to stop using that bass drum! You can’t record bass drums. You know that!” Did we know that?! Also on the other side of the glass were Ken Taylor and Hal Saunders. Ken Taylor had a twisted smile on his face which could not be mistaken for happiness by any means! Hal just looked worried.
“The drums are still too loud!’ said Robert, We’ll have to put them outside the door!” By this time the office staff had left so there would be no noise from the giggling typists. Evidently this worked for Robert and became the way they recorded drums (or at least Barry’s drums) for quite a while.
“Things don’t seem to be quite in time,” said Hal, “I think I’d better come in and conduct you.” He was probably right considering that timing wasn’t one of Barry’s strong points. So, Hal came in and conducted us. I can still see Hal now, eyes closed, hands outstretched, conducting a rock’n’roll band like a symphony orchestra! Hal liked to run in and conduct everything, we found out later, whether it was in time or not. I think Hal just liked to conduct. After a few more tries, Robert said, “Rolling” and we ‘put one down’. “Come in and have a listen,” said Robert. We were now evidently allowed into the inner sanctum of the recording studio – The Control Room.
“Wow, it’s like a spaceship,” said Boogie. It was indeed like a spaceship to us. There was a huge two-track Ampex tape machine about the size of a washing machine, many and varied knobs and dials, and a gigantic, green speaker cabinet bigger than a refrigerator. Robert wound back the tape and we listened to ourselves for the first time.
Most engineers of that day had the impression that all rock’n’roll records should be swimming in echo and Robert was no exception. We were indeed DROWNING in echo! To us that was fine, especially for me. Guitars were supposed to be like that. “Shit!” I said, “I sound just like Cliff Gallup (Gene Vincent’s lead guitarist)! How do you make an echo like that Robert?”
“We have an echo chamber of course,” said Robert as if everybody knew that. I later found out that the “echo chamber” was a disused room with a mike on one side and a speaker on the other and as the sound was fed through you got a pretty good echo. Even some of the later sophisticated digital echo units cannot reproduce those old echo sounds. The only trouble with the fabulous “echo chamber” was that it was situated right next to the dunny and, every time that someone flushed or farted, the sound of it would come out on tape if you were recording at the time.
We were most impressed with our sound but there were a few little mistakes to clean up so we did a few more takes, had a few more listens and finally the instrumental backing was down. “Down” was the operative word as we were to find out later on. Now came time for Dig’s vocal to go on to the second (and only other) track. “Can we stay in the control room and watch?” asked Barry.
“Definitely not!” said Robert. “No!” said Ken Taylor. “You might put Dig off.” “Besides, I can’t work in here with all you lot getting in the way,” Robert whined. “It’s lovely to feel so wanted,” whispered Peter as we left the sacred control room.
“There’s a good hamburger shop up past the lights,” said uncle Hal, “Why don’t you go up and have a bite to eat, you deserve it.” We took uncle Hal’s kind advice and not only found the hamburger shop but a pub as well. We celebrated our newfound status as “Recording Stars”.
Upon our return to the studio we found that Dig had just finished the vocal and they were all listening to the playback. We were ushered into the sacred control room to hear the final product. Well, we couldn’t believe our ears! The beautiful instrumental backing that we had worked so hard on and were so pleased with, had almost disappeared. I didn’t want to appear to forward at this time, being our first session, but I just had to say something.
“Robert,” I said, “what happened to the backing? Where are all those clever little things we did?”
“No, that’s the way it should be,” said the studious one. “We can’t have you buggers drowning out the star now, can we? It’s him they want to hear you know, not you guys!”
Well, it was around about this time that we discovered that these people that we looked up to for musical guidance knew fuck-all about rock’n’roll! They had turned out to be ACME Productions! We were trying to get the American sound where the backing is loud and rocking and the vocal is at just the right level, not screaming above everything else with this pissy, mamby-pamby bullshit in the background. Now Dig agreed with us but, being the kind of guy he was, he was trying to please everyone as usual. Don’t get me wrong. Dig was no pushover. He was very good at dealing with management-type people. He could handle the Ken Taylors of this world. I never could and we dared not let Barry get near them or we would be out the door in two seconds flat.
Dig said to Ken Taylor and Hal that the band was a little soft (to say the least!) and a compromise was worked out. The band level came up to a dull mumble. This was the first of many battles to be fought for the honour of rock’n’roll with Festival over the next year or so as we would very soon become the staff recording band, backing all the artists on Festival and Rex labels.
The only other record we were to make before Leon joined the group was Dig’s first album. This was a very successful record and had the famous lightning flash jumper that Dig wore at the Conway Twitty Stadium Show on the cover. Unfortunately, about the only good rock’n’roll songs on it were Johnny B. Goode, Carol and Jive After Five. The rest of the album consisted mostly of soppy songs picked out by ACME Productions. These songs were loosely referred to by Peter as ‘commercial trash’. After this first album, Leon joined and we became a very professional recording band. We were now “session musos” but not stars!
AMERICA Vs. AUSTRALIA
Being now the proud possessors of a hit record, we scored a support band slot on the Conway Twitty Show at the Stadium and toured the country. Also on the show were Lloyd Price (Personality), The Kalin Twins (When), Linda Laurie (Ambrose) and Col Joye & the Joy Boys. Lee Gordon called this show “The Battle Of The Big Beat” and it was on July 25, 1959. It was designed to be a battle between the Yanks and us. Technically I think they won! With experience, equipment and worldwide fame they had a head start but a patriotic feeling for our own bands was starting to emerge.
Consequently, two months later, this show was a great boost to the record sales of everyone on the show. The Top Forty for September 1959 shows:
No. 1… Col Joye – (Rock’n’Rollin’) Clementine
No. 2… Conway Twitty – Mona Lisa
No. 3… Lloyd Price – Personality
No. 7… Dig Richards & the R’Jays – I Wanna Love You
Col’s Bye Bye Baby was also No. 15 and going down after having been No. 1 and in the charts for twenty weeks.
Conway Twitty’s band had us completely amazed. We had never seen Americans before, let alone actually spoken to them on equal terms. They were southerners. Blackie, the bass player, could fill the Stadium with his double bass. Boy, could he slap that mother! The lead guitarist was Joe E. Lewis who just knocked my socks off. He played things for me in the dressing room that I couldn’t believe. Hoe down guitar pickin’ like my favourites, Joe Maphis, Merle Travis and ilk. I guess, although they were playing rock’n’roll, they were really country boys at heart. Conway and Joe both had the small solid body Gretsch guitars, like a Gibson Les Paul. Joe’s had a Bigsby whammy bar which a lot of Gretsches and Gibsons had fitted. It was from looking at Joe’s whammy bar that I got the design to get someone to build one for me. That person was Jim Snelling who had a little guitar factory down at The Rocks. The handle on my first whammy bar was a piece of steel out of my mother’s corsets!
I had asked Robert Reids for time off to do the Conway Twitty tour and they declined, so I declined to work there anymore and that’s the last day job I’ve ever had in my life.
A SMASH HIT FOR DIG!
A little while later on October 8, 1959, Barry and I went to see The Champs (Tequila) at the Stadium. It was an afternoon show and on the way to our dance at Chatswood that evening we were very irate that some mug had had a smash on the Harbour Bridge and was holding us up. We drove straight past the smash and on to the Chatswood dance.
By nine o’clock, Dig, Peter and Boogie still hadn’t shown up. We started to worry. Then someone came and told us that Dig had smashed his Morris Minor underneath the back of a tabletop truck on the Harbour Bridge. We had driven right past and not even recognised the car! Dig had a dislocated hip and very bad facial injuries. Peter had some lacerations and a little shock. Boogie had a broken jaw. We went to the Mater Hospital to see them but the nurses wouldn’t let us in. We stood outside the window listening to Dig, who was delirious and yelling out at the poor nuns who were trying to relocate his hip. “Go away, you fucking angels! I’m not dead yet! Leave me alone!”
As soon as Peter and Boogie had recovered enough to work, we persevered working without Dig for a while. The band was starting to get very professional in its attitude but unfortunately Barry wasn’t. Peter had given him the name of “Limp Beat Lewis” or “The Lewisician.”
We had just been to Melbourne before Dig’s accident and Barry had done a rather naughty thing that got us into big trouble with GTV 9 in Melbourne and with Ken Taylor back at Festival in Sydney. We were working for GTV 9 on Bert Newton’s Swallows Juniors and staying at the George Hotel. Anyhow, Col Joye & the Joy Boys were also staying there. We were into playing tricks on other bands, so we played some harmless little tricks like setting up guitarist, Dave Bridge’s bed so that it would fall down as soon as any weight went on it, hanging their guitars from the light fittings, short sheeting Col’s bed. Then we waited for them to go into their suite. After they went inside, we stood a huge “private” sign outside the door with a bucket of water on it, leaning against the door. Then we knocked and yelled, “Come out here Bogie (John Bogie, their drummer)!” As Bogie opened the door he got a little wet, to say the least. He then chased Barry and I back to our room, where unbeknownst to me, Barry had stashed one of the fire extinguishers that he had pulled off the wall. As Bogie burst in the door, he was confronted with the sight of Barry with the fire extinguisher turned upside down, ready to go! Bogie ran. But he wasn’t quick enough! The foam caught him right up the arse before he got to his door. It also painted the rest of the hallway because we couldn’t turn it off. It eventually ate away all the carpet.
The George was at that time owned by GTV 9. Need I say anymore? We were in deep shit! After GTV 9 contacted Ken Taylor, he gave us a long lecture, especially “Barry the Beast”!
We were playing a show in Grafton when Peter and I decided that we would have to sack “the Beast” and get this guy that we saw playing with Ray Hoff & the Off Beats, namely LEON ISACKSON. On our arrival back in Sydney we were playing at Phyllis Bates Ballroom when Peter turned to Barry and said “Lewis, you’re sacked!” Lewis was so surprised and disbelieving he simply said “Jon, you’re sacked too!” It was a shame that this had to happen to the guy, that along with me, had started Dig & the R’Jays but the thing about this business is being the best, isn’t it? Or is it?
WHAT ABOUT THE OFF BEATS?
LEON: After Ray Hoff & the Off Beats won the band competition at Surryville, our promised recording contract with Teen records only ever resulted in a job for Ray sorting records at John Collins’ office while we waited patiently for a chance to cut our first record. As well as taking over the dance at Surryville, Devlin’s management were still booking us all over the place and the Off Beats were occasionally required to back Johnny Devlin himself. They also gave us a sax player, Dave Cross. With our new saxophone player, we finally got to play the famed Leichhardt Police Boys’ Club and the Sydney Town Hall. We were up there with the “biggies”. During the Town Hall show, Ray was dragged off the stage by screaming teenagers, much to Johnny Devlin’s disgust, and the band was mobbed at the end of the show. I remember we also backed Frank Ifield on the same night but he was just a cowboy singer at the time. He would later go on to England and cut the classic record, I Remember You. I’m sure he probably wouldn’t remember us!
Ray had been rebooked for 6 O’Clock Rock. This time he sang Fabian’s song Tiger. Fabian was about to arrive in town and Dig Richards & the R’Jays were booked to play on the show at the Stadium.
On Thursday October 8, 1959, we saw the headlines: ROCK SINGER SMASHED UP ON HARBOUR BRIDGE. It was Digby!
Everybody was shocked by the news. Dig had become incredibly popular by that time with the releases of his first record I Wanna Love You. Johnny Devlin & the Devils were booked to replace Dig on the Stadium show. Trouble was, some of the original Devils had left Devlin so they pinched our piano player Jimmy Taylor – the bastards! Poaching musicians from other bands was quite commonplace at the time, due to the paucity of good rock players.
The Off beats had to quickly get a replacement. We found a piano player who called himself Jade Hurley. Jade figured that he needed a gimmick to cover up for his rude piano playing so he wore bright jade green gloves with the fingers cut out. They didn’t help much! We sacked him two weeks later. A more polished Jade reappeared about a year later as a guest artist, supporting Dig Richards & the R’Jays, only this time he was singing as well as playing piano. His enthusiasm seemed to pervade the audience at the Rockdale Town Hall and they loved him. Ever since Johnny O'Keefe threw a naked lady into Jade's shower at 6 O'Clock Rock, Jade had become a changed man. He was now a fully fledged 'Rock Star'.
I first met Dig Richards at the Parramatta School of Arts where Ryanny and I used to go, back in 1957. It was on August 9, 1959, which was the week before Ray Hoff & the Off Beats won the band competition at Surryville. We were booked to do a spot at the R’Jays’ dance and we still didn’t have a bass player.
“Don’t worry,” I said, “We’ll tell them that our bass player didn’t turn up and we’ll get the R’Jays’ bass player Peter Baker to play with us. He’s probably the best electric bass player in town!”
We all drove to the Parramatta School of Arts in Ryanny’s 1934 Dodge, which he had just bought for £34. This was a pretty scary adventure in itself. Ryanny took his mother to the shop the day before and, as he pulled up, the front wheel came off and rolled into the butcher shop. Needless to say, Mrs. Ryan refused to ever get in the car again. She wasn’t as brave as we were, or as stupid. We went everywhere in that old Dodge. It was our window to the world.
Dig & the R’Jays turned out to be pretty nice guys, and they seemed to be very impressed with our band. It was a couple of months later on October 28, 1959, when I received a call from Peter Baker that would change things dramatically.
“We want you to join the R’Jays!” he said in a very official voice.
I was stunned! There were only five big rock’n’roll bands at the time and Dig Richards & the R’Jays were one of them. According to the Australian Rock & Pop magazine, the bands known as The BIG FIVE were Johnny O’Keefe & the Dee Jays, Col Joye & the Joy Boys, Dig Richards & the R’Jays, Johnny Devlin & the Devils and Johnny Rebb & the Rebels. After the initial shock, I replied, “But I can’t. Ray Hoff & the Off Beats are just starting to get off the ground.” I thought at the time that the Off Beats had the potential to be as good, or better, than all of them. We were hoping to make it The BIG SIX.
Peter wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “Look, we’ve already sacked Barry Lewis and while Dig is in hospital we have to keep all the dances and the TV show going. Can you at least do Teen Time with us on Monday and we’ll talk about it?” I agreed.
The following Monday, November 2, 1959, there I was at ATN Channel 7, Epping, in Studio B, the very same place where I had applied for a job in 1957. This was Teen Time compered by Keith Walshe and Carol Finlayson. I was greeted by the Commissionaire as I carted in my sparkling blue Premier drums. He probably thought I was somebody important. Anyone who appeared more than once on TV in the late 1950s was considered to be almost a movie star! Peter and Jon seemed relieved to see me and Boogie attempted a crooked smile through his wired up jaw (from Dig’s Harbour Bridge accident).
After a very short rehearsal, the show went live to air. If there were any mistakes (and there were usually quite a few), there was no stopping. It was quite exciting with a live audience and dancing. The rock’n’roll dancing was supervised by the resident dancing instructor, Bob Malcolm, who gave regular jive exhibitions. I was happy to see my old buddy Warren Williams, was the guest star for the day along with two effeminate looking characters, The Allen Brothers. They sang the Everly Brothers’ tune Till I Kissed You, with Peter Woolnough (later better known as Peter Allen) on piano and Chris Bell on guitar.
The rest of the night was taken up with Peter Baker and the band extolling the virtues of me joining the R’Jays. The following day, Digby rang from his hospital bed with the same story. “We really need you to join the band Leon. A lot depends on it!” The pressure for me to leave the Off Beats was mounting. I explained to Dig that I would make a decision after I spoke to John Collins, Ray Hoff & the Off Beats management, the next day.
DON’T GIVE UP YOUR DAY JOB!
WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 4, 1959: I walked into John Collins’ office at Teen Records, 81 York Street Sydney, and was greeted with “We want you to join the Devils!”
“Oh no!” I groaned, “What’s happening?” John Collins explained that he wasn’t going to use the Off Beats anymore. From now on Ray Hoff, as well as Johnny Devlin, would be singing with the new devils, consisting of Jimmy Taylor on piano, Flooby Fred on bass, Neville Chamberlain on guitar, Warren smith on sax and me on drums. “I’d like to introduce you to Warren smith,” he went on, “He’s going to be playing sax and managing the band.” Warren launched into a rave about how great the band was going to be and why I should join.
I wasn’t convinced. I thought the old Devils were pretty hard to top. Ray Hoff hadn’t been told yet. He wasn’t allowed to hear all of this intrigue. Ray was out the back happily pinching records! It would seem that they didn’t want Ray to have a better band than their star attraction Johnny Devlin. “Not only that,” Warren continued enthusiastically, “We can guarantee you a minimum of twenty five pounds a week!”
“But Peter Baker just offered me a minimum of fifty pounds a week to join the R’Jays,” I said. My reply went down like a lead balloon. The enthusiasm drained out of Warren’s face. “Dig will never be as big as Devlin,” John Collins interrupted. George Hilder nodded soberly as he peered through his Coke bottle glasses. If I was having trouble making up my mind, I was certainly convinced now. If there weren’t going to be any more Off Beats, I was going to join the R’Jays.
As I was walking back to my day job at APRA (Australasian Performing Rights Association), I was wondering what they would say when I gave in my notice. I had been working at APRA for the last eighteen months and was now earning the grand sum of eight pounds, thirteen shillings and four pence per week. It would have been hard for me to imagine that a couple of weeks later I would earn one hundred and twenty seven pounds, ten shillings in one week!
“You’ve got a big future here, Leon,” Mr. Goodman said sternly, looking up from the top of his glasses. “Rock’n’roll will never last. It’s only a passing fad. Look at all those files. They contain the titles of all the wonderful music that has ever been written. There’s not much rock’n’roll in there.” Then came the famous punch line, “What ever you do, Leon, don’t give up your day job!”
With those wondrous words of wisdom still ringing in my ears, that night at one of the many R’Jays’ dances at Cabramatta Civic Hall, I decided to cast my fate to the wind and officially join Dig Richards & the R’Jays. This meant that I was now a fully professional musician with no other means of support or credibility for a bank loan. Even worse, I was going to be a “Rock Star”!
Lonnie Lee was filling in with the band while Dig was still recovering in hospital. He was one of the few singers of the day who consistently sang in tune (offside free kick!). Lonnie gave me a reassuring nod that I had made the right decision. Surely rock’n’roll would last another three months at least!
I had first met Lonnie Lee, or Laurie Rix as he was previously known, a few months earlier when he was singing at Col Joye’s big dance at Bankstown on July 11, 1959. I was playing that night in the support band, the Stoneagers, and wishing that I had a Canadian Jacket like Darby. Lonnie, ‘Flooby’ Fred and some girls drove me home after the dance. I often wondered what happened to those poor innocent girls after they dropped me off.
Digby still on crutches came out of hospital on Saturday 14, November 1959, and flew straight down to Melbourne where we were booked to do a television show at GTV9. The rest of the band – Peter, Boogie, Jon and myself, were to travel down by “pie and ear” bus and meet him and his father, Gordon Richards, at the London Hotel. This was very exciting for me as I had never been outside of NSW. It was great travelling down to Melbourne with guys that were just as enthusiastic as me about music. This was my first week as a ‘pro’ but these guys had “done it all” already. They had a hit record and they had played at the Sydney Stadium with Conway Twitty. My biggest ambition since I was thirteen was to play at the Stadium. With Jimmy, Ray and Ryanny, all we were ever interested in were the three R’s – Records, Rock’n’roll and Rootin’. Being a professional touring band seemed to add another dimension to it all.
When we arrived in Melbourne, we were given the “Star” treatment and taken straight to the London Hotel for breakfast. In very plush surroundings, I met Dig’s father Gordon, affectionately known as “The Blunderer”, and some executives from GTV9. An hour or so later, we were donning our new bright blue suits with gold buttons while people were running around setting up our gear. Dig wore his brand new bright maroon lurex coat with white piping. What a sight! He was still on crutches and trying his best to leap around on one leg like a pirate.
This was the Bert Newton Show with Frankie Davidson filling in for Bert as compere. Everone was quite helpful and friendly except for the resident band who appeared to be scowling. I couldn’t understand this at the time but it was a promise of things to come. “Bloody rock’n’rollers,” one of them mumbled. We put it down to the fact that they were from Melbourne, although everybody else there seemed quite amiable. We recorded three shows which fortunately (or unfortunately), Frankie Davidson still has a copy of on 16mm film. One of the shows featured a brand new duo from Perth - The DeKroo Brothers, Leo and Doug who later came to Sydney with some success. The reception of the band from the Melbourne kids was something new and fantastic. We felt quite embarrassed to be treated like stars.
As Dig and I sat in the plane watching the lights of Melbourne disappear, we toasted each other with a beer. This was going to be the start of something really exciting. Nothing would ever be quite the same again.