Biography [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

They watched till he'd gone beyond the World War II observation tower and into the next field and disappeared.

The boys in the tree had more important things on their minds. They were about to change their world. For one of them, the black and white of post-war Britain was slowly changing to colour. Particularly salmon pink, the colour of the Fender guitar wielded by one Hank B. Marvin. He'd wanted a guitar since seeing Tommy Steele in a movie. Back then it was a pop singer's main accessory and he'd already decided against a career in train driving. The rumour was steam trains were about to be replaced by diesel and electricity and pop singing now seemed a far more attractive proposition. Months of nagging had produced a blue and white toy ukelele at Christmas, but this had failed to do the job and all attempts at customising the thing had returned the instrument once again to kit form.

Then an event, a major major event had occurred the following February. On a Sunday night. The reality of becoming a pop singer was beginning to look doubtful. A playground accident had left him with a broken front tooth and a bout of ringworm, allegedly caught from a dog, had spread into his eyes leaving him with what seemed like a life-time destined to peer out at the world from behind round rimmed, wire earred National Health glasses. And although more and more singers were starting to appear in newspapers and magazines, none wore rimmed National Health glasses. Hank Marvin was the only role model. Until that Sunday night. On Sunday nights in the late fifties, and indeed throughout most of the sixties, there was a live TV variety show, "Sunday Night at the London Palladium".

The usual variety fare, a circus act, maybe a comedian or two,a magician, a novelty act and every so often … a pop act. This particular February Sunday, at the end of the show the compere raised his arm to the wings, as he always did, and said, "All the way from the USA … BUDDY HOLLY AND THE CRICKETS!".

He'd sat stunned. There was a guy singing, in glasses, with a Fender guitar … and he really rocked … life was never going to be the same again. The need to own a Fender Stratocaster had taken on a new urgency.

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