h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

For Solnushka, as promised more than a year ago.

1978 - a tale from ye

Part 1 - background to 70s Essex (some repetition from previous journal entries to set the scene)

I've explained how my amazing daughters, Sunshine and Moonlight refer to my childhood in the 60s and 70s as being "back in ye", when life was black and white and everyone did dangerous things They use phrases like "Times were simpler back in ye" or ask questions that begin "Mum, did you have _____ back in ye?" inserting any idea that amuses them. It's a family joke that can be revived at any time by text, email or in person and it doesn't matter how long since the last "ye" comment, it's always funny. I think they are secretly jealous of the experiences, freedom and total lack of health and safety concerns.

From the age of about 14 I was out and about, no one knew where, but we all did it back in ye. I wasn't getting in trouble, I was just getting on. School was grim, home was grimmer and the intellectual frustration was stifling.

At 14 or 15 I joined a Youth Theatre group, we had weekly meetings, put on some quite ambitious productions at the proper theatre in Basildon, under the guidance of drama teachers who worked by day in schools and in the evenings with those of us who really did want to be there. It was a great equaliser and I loved it. Sometimes we had weekends away with other Youth Theatre, occasionally some of our group tried out for the National Youth Theatre, or went on to find fame in the music scene that was such a major part of life for anyone in 70s Essex. I watched the rise of punk, DIY and had friend in bands. Every week I went to see something somewhere, usually a room in a pub or the back of a social club. Sweaty, smoky, loud and full of others just like me. I don't recall any trouble at all. We knew where to go without phones or social networking (this aspect of ye is particularly fascinating to Sunshine and Moonlight!) I don't recall ever telling my mum where I was or when I would return.

Pubs weren't denied to us if we were 15 and looked like we would behave ourselves. We wanted to fit into this adult world so we watched and learned and under the careful scrutiny of the real adults and especially the publicans we sat at tables, talked intensely about music, politics and drama, put money in a glass in the middle to buy our rounds and never ever drew attention to ourselves. We knew we'd be asked to leave if we behaved like children. So we didn't. Best educational experience ever.

At 16 I went to technical college, life was better and Youth Theatre continued to be a major part. I made good friends, my confidence increased and I belonged. Productions were experimental, I still have a lot of the flyers and programmes from those days and they show that nothing was considered out of our zone. Musicals, gritty "kitchen sink" realism, panto, Pirandello or improvised pieces about teenage angst that went on to be in competitions taking place in exciting places such as the Roundhouse.

Bubbling under all of this was the issue of racism. If we were the cool kids, there was a lot of unrest elsewhere...

Other parts of this story to follow throughout the day, I'm off out for a while now but I'll be back.

Comment as I go, or wait until the end, ask questions if you have them but if I could politely request that you please don't "jump the gun" by anticipating what you think I'm going to say and writing it for me. That way my tale stands alone at first as a record of my own memories. When I have finished, then go for it.

Part 2 - 70s England

Enoch Powell had given the "Rivers of Blood" speech in April 1968. In the next 10 years I wrote stories in bad handwriting, handed in projects about the sea, joined Youth Theatre and shared the same television experiences as everyone else, because there were no other channels. If you didn't watch you had no conversation the next day. "Till Death us do Part went until 1975, "Love Thy Neighbour" from 1972 to 1976, "The Comedians" went out regularly from 1971 to 1974. Racist comedy went into homes every night and was joyfully repeated in the playground the next day with a sense of belonging and shared values. Employers could discriminate against applicants on the grounds of race, and landlords put up the "No Blacks, No Irish, No dogs" signs. The influence of the National Front was rising. In the spring of 1976 they had won 40% of the votes at an election in Blackburn.

The 70s music scene on the whole was much more equal, punk, ska and reggae bands appeared at gigs together, united by being discriminated against. 2tone was emerging from this.

I say "on the whole" because there were punks wearing swastikas as fashion statements, David Bowie was photographed giving a Nazi salute and in 1976 told a magazine '... yes I believe very strongly in fascism" and in August 1976 a drunk and angry Eric Clapton told his audience in Birmingham that 'Enoch was right, I think we should send them all back', perhaps forgetting his own embrace of multiculturalism with the 1974 cover version of Bob Marley's "I Shot the Sheriff".

Like everyone I knew, I regularly read the music newspapers NME, Melody Maker and Sounds, and bought Time Out when in London (I still have quite a few yellowing copies of all of these from ye) and became aware of the Rock Against Racism movement that had emerged in late 1976 from letters and articles in the music press. Their slogan was "Love Music, Hate Racism". What made RAR gigs popular were the massive names that agreed to play. Sham 69, Tom Robinson, Steel Pulse, names we knew from the rock papers. This was getting big. It was cool to be anti racist and we belonged to a different gang from the ones from our playgrounds. Separately the Anti-Nazi League emerged in 1977 to challenge the political views that had lead to the National Front's continued rise.

The Anti-Nazi League were keen to join forces with RAR to get people to vote against the National Front in May 1978 council elections. I wasn't old enough to vote but my generation was aware of the injustice of racism, we'd overheard conversations in those adult pubs that didn't match our own experiences of the diversity in the gigs we attended.

The Anti Nazi League and RAR chose the date of Sunday 30 April 1978 for a carnival in Trafalgar Square followed by an open-air concert in Victoria Park, Bow, in the East End of London, bordering Bethnal Green and Hackney, right at the heart of the National Front stronghold. There were adverts in the music press, flyers handed out in pub gigs and word of mouth messages about who was organising a coach trip from all over the country. There was a buzz.

At some point I picked up some information in Basildon. It was a large poster, but it hadn't been stuck up. Possibly it had come into the theatre for display, I wish I could remember. I took it home and looked at it. I wanted to go, but not alone. I found out who was organising the coach and tried to find someone else to sit with. After asking around, people had either booked already or were going from different starting points. In the end I asked my younger brother, stressing only the music part of the day, he wasn't aware of RAR but perhaps looked up to his older sister as a gateway into that adult life of pubs and gigs. He agreed to come if his girlfriend came too, so I booked three seats on the coach. I have no idea how I did this by the way, or how much it cost. We might have told mum we were going out or we might not, but even if we did I doubt she would have been aware of the event.

The 30th of April came...

Emerging out of super lurk mode to say 'Oooooooh! Cool!'. The poster story! And it's a goodun (of course).'

My breath is bated...This is fascinating stuff!

Deb

My breath is bated too... but that's proabably more down to the butter

[An aside. Example of a text from Moonlight (1):
"You know the song Grocer Jack? It's cruel how the mothers send their children to his house to scream and shout at him. Times were simpler in ye."

"Yes and life was all black and white. That's why people took drugs and listened to Pink Floyd. For the colours."]

[Another aside. Example of a text from Moonlight (2 - there are loads!):
"We watched Tommy together the other night. I think {insert name of poor long suffering boyfriend} was a little confused and asked me if it was a documentary."

"Yes, it was a documentary on life in ye when everyone was on drugs."

"He also asked me 'is that supposed to be Elton John?' I had to tell him it was Elton John, the real one. He was big in ye wasn't he?"]

[Another aside. Example of a text conversation with Moonlight:

"How shall I organise my CDs? By artist? By colour? By decade? By genre? It's too hard. I need you to do it!"

"Alphabetically by artist. I have told you this already. You have forgotten because you are old."

"But what about compilations? And that means classical stuff goes in with punk. That seems wrong!"

"put compilations at the bottom."

"Why? The more I think about it, by genre would be best, and by artist within that. So all the punk can be together, and all the 60s hippie music and Pink Floyd."

"Do anything you want to do then."

"Eddie and the Hot Rods! Easy to find on the shelf with the punk. That's how record shops do it."

"'Record shops'! Dear oh dear. Life was simpler in ye."]

Part 3 - 30th April 1978

Thinking about it, I'm not sure I did even book places on the coach, that seems too well planned. I've a feeling everyone just turned up at at the right time and place and paid our money as we got on. We would have met it within walking distance of our house, and it stopped to pick up people all over Basildon before setting off. It's about 30 miles from Basildon to Bow.

I'm looking at the poster right now. It promises the Tom Robinson Band and Steel Pulse. Talk on the coach was of who else we might see, someone mentioned the Clash. As we drove nearer to London we saw more and more coaches, with posters, flags, banners and people wearing Anti Nazi League and RAR badges or t shirts.

At some point on the journey my brother asked me what was going on. I'd only told him about the music and he was confused. His girlfriend even more so. She was a Bay City Rollers fan. I explained the concept of racism to him, the reason for the event, what was happening in the country and why people had to unite to stop it. He had no idea.

We didn't join the march itself, but were dropped off near Victoria Park, our coach parking up in a long line of others from all over the country. As we all got off we were told to remember where the coach was for when it was all over, and we joined the stream of people all heading in the same direction and following the same distant beats. I do remember walking past some of the trucks from the march, the giant Fluck and Law Hitler head and a sea of round banners and yellow flags with red arrows.

There were already thousands of people in the park, we sat down where we could see the distant stage and just listened and watched as band after band came on. It wasn't the clearest sound, but we always knew who was playing and yes, The Clash rumour was true. In between the music, my brother and I talked a bit more, his girlfriend gave up hoping the Rollers would appear and we became absorbed in the day. I remember the people more than the bands. Punks in chains and safety pins, hippies, rastas but most of all just the plain and ordinary people like us. All ages, and again as with the pub gigs, no trouble despite such a massive crowd.

When it was all over, thousands of people left the park and made their way back to the coaches. Ours was where we knew it would be, and me got home safely.

After a couple of days my brother told me his girlfriend's dad was very angry that she'd gone, and blamed me for being a bad influence. Apart from that we never really spoke of the day again.

Until more than 30 years later...

Before we get to part 4, for any social historians or interested readers, I'll post some links. I've avoided the films and photos today so that my memory remained sharp, so this will be a marker for me to return to as well.

Alan Miles's documentary film 'Who Shot The Sheriff?' is a record of the era, the rise of the National Front and how ordinary people fought back with music. There is footage of the march and the concert. It's just over an hour long in total.
Part 1: http://vimeo.com/11494489
Part 2: http://vimeo.com/11501491
Part 3: http://vimeo.com/11503501

Archive photos, including several in colour, thereby proving Moonlight wrong about it all being black and white in ye. There's one captioned "Naff view of the stage from the back" which looks much like the view my brother and I had. (Look at all the double denim!)
http://www.ukrockfestivals.com/victoria-park-1978.html

An article in The Guardian on the 30th anniversary in 2008. I have a copy of the paper. I keep it with the poster. "1978: The year rock found the power to unite"
http://www.theguardian.com/music/2008/apr/20/popandrock.race/print

A similar 30 years on article in the Independent http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/music/features/rock-against-racism-remembering-that-gig-that-started-it-all-815054.html?printService=print

[Amy P]

Part 4 - 2011 - 2012

There's only 16 months between me and my middle brother, and we have another brother, also quite close in age. As scared, cold and upset children we stuck together, but as life got less bad (not better) we grew apart. I left home to go to uni, my brother married the Bay City Rollers fan at 17 (it didn't last long) and became an apprentice printer and our younger brother went to sell coloured vinyl in one of the trendy record shops that advertised in the small ads in NME, Record Mirror and Sounds.

Over the years we've made our own pathways, not keeping that much in touch, but not being too distant either. We tended to visit our mum separately, and never really got together as a family. However whenever we were in contact we picked up where we left off, although we never spoke of ye, with an unspoken rule that it was best left in the past. I'm closer to my younger brother, he used to write to me at uni and we've both gone on to have mortgages and children and divorces. Middle brother lived in various bits London, for many years just a stone's throw from the Globe, self employed printer and graphic designer, but also an ethical shopper and charity volunteer. In 2011 a combination of the recession and everyone using home printers and Photoshop he moved out of the city and into the outskirts of the Garden of England.

Being much closer, we made an effort to catch up a bit. In November 2011 he suggested the two of us went together to visit mum for her 76th birthday. I drove and we chatted on the way, filling in the gaps about failed relationships and the lack of money. At some point on the journey he asked if I remembered that day in 1978. And then he told me something quite surprising. He thanked me for taking him, telling me that it was a day that changed his life for the better. He could so easily have been influenced by the racist element that some of his cohort turned into. The DM booted skinhead revivalists of the late 1970s grew to become affiliated with the National Front and was so brilliantly portrayed in "This is England", a film by Shane Meadows. The day when I took him along for the company and had to explain racism to him on the coach had altered the whole course of his life.

Wow. I told him not only did I remember, but I still had the poster. When I got home that evening I texted him a photo of it, and emailed him a link to the Guardian article. As a graphic designer he knew what he was looking at, and told me to research it. I googled the wording on the poster and found loads of images of it!

In measurements from ye, the poster is 35 inches wide by 25 inches high (that's 89cms by 63cms for the youngsters.) The graphic designer was David King, who had studied at the same printing college my brother later attended to learn his own skills. David King still designs and writes, and keeps a huge collection of Soviet revolution posters. Here's an interview from 2003. http://www.eyemagazine.com/feature/article/repuations-david-kinghttp://www.eyemagazine.com/feature/article/repuations-david-king

I then protected the poster a little better - it had been in a box under the spare bed along with the yellowing copies of NME, Record Mirror and Sounds.

In May 2012 I took myself to the V&A (even after more than 30 years I can't find someone to go to things with!) This was for the exhibition British Design 1948–2012: Innovation in the Modern Age. http://www.vam.ac.uk/content/exhibitions/exhibition-british-design/british-design-about-the-exhibition/ I'd seen some of the items before at similar exhibitions, but I love this kind of thing. Despite having no discernible artistic or design talent myself I can still appreciate it.

And in the "Subversion" section, on the wall under a picture of Ian Dury, next to a Sex Pistols album cover and a Vivienne Westwood t-shirt was my poster! I got out my phone and tried to take a picture to send to my brother but was immediately stopped by a guards. Well that was never going to stop me. Don't call a section "subversion" and then expect compliance! I snuck behind a pillar and took two pictures.



So, that's the Poster story delivered, as promised to Sol a year ago, of how I have something that is in the V&A.
Here's a very good picture of it I've found online: http://pankov.files.wordpress.com/2010/09/4919651612_be5bb99852_b.jpg
Here it is in the V&A catalogue: http://collections.vam.ac.uk/item/O1193242/carnival-poster-david-king/ and this is what it looked like on display: http://www.mintmagazine.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/punk-1970s-vivienne-wetwood-david-king-carnival-poster.jpg?34543e



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I hope I haven't waffled on too much and lost everyone on the journey. The month is over. I now return to lurk mode.

Once again I apologise for some rather dreadful grammar. Blame the Lem Sip. This was very much a stream of words, written directly into the post with very little editing or fact checking. I'll particularly apologise for "into the outskirts.." which is nasty.

Needless to say, I didn't notice any gramatical errors at all But, that was because it was so absorbing to read... I was born too late for the 60s or 70s... heck, I was too* young for most of the 80s really although being from where I am from, I'm not sure the 80s really arrived there until the 90s some time

I think my lodger may have been at that same rock against racism concert/ralley/protest ... and for wt your Brother said, about how it changed his outlook on/life in that way... I still feel sorry in some way, when I travel back to my hometown, and some of the friends I had at school, who I'm still in touch with, they've just not moved on, ever from the 'small town mentality' ... true, some have, but useually they're the ones who at least have gone off, say to Uni etc, before returning... Some who've never left... .
and... and you saw the clash... in the 70s

Its been a delight reading your jorunals this month, thanks

Thank you, coely! I've enjoyed traipsing through ye with you.

I was at the same RAR, I wonder how many others researchers were?

You probably got back to Basildon quicker than we did to Wimbledon, we got diverted by pubs on the way back and missed the last tubes.
eventually fell off the night bus at light O'clock

That's interesting BB, do my memories tally with yours? How many researchers are there of a certain age though?

I am, but I was on an entirely different continent at the time. I'm afraid I never heard of this concert before you wrote about it here.