Outside the studios hundreds of teenage fans waited to mob Cliff. This was only a ten minute programme, but they had come from far and wide, travelling countless miles, just for the chance of seeing their idol in action for a few minutes.

Some of those crowding outside did not even catch a glimpse of him. But still they were happy to be there; content just to be near where Cliff was.

Since then Cliff Richard has reached an even higher peak of success. And apart from being one of the few pop stars to have stayed high in the popularity stakes, he has even knocked on the door of the exclusive Presley hall of fame to challenge the almost legendary Elvis for the No. 1 position.

Pop singers come and go, their career governed by the restless tastes of the teenage record buyers. Some of them are one record wonders who cut a hit disc, climb high into the Top Ten and then slide off into obscurity. Others find themselves stars overnight. But unless they can continue to provide the type of music the teenage audience want, their popularity — like the moonlight kisses of the famous Nat King Cole song — “cools in the warmth of the sun”. Some are stars at 15 and has-beens at the ripe old age of 20.

But for all these, the vagaries of “pop” music life, there are those with obvious talent — an ability certain to keep them in favour with their capricious audience. Such artistes are Brenda Lee, Helen Shapiro, Bobby Vee and Bobby Rydell, not to mention those old timers Connie Francis, Pat Boone, Tommy Steele and Frankie Vaughan.

All of these favourites have featured in ATV shows during the past year.

Cliff Richard, for instance, has appeared frequently in Startime and Sunday Night at the London Palladium programmes. That Cliff is one of Britain’s hottest show business properties is undisputed. There was a time when this swarthy dark eyed twenty-two-year-old meant nothing. But by the time he was 19 Cliff had made the top. Today he can smile at the cynics who thought him to be just another guitar-strumming teenager when he made his early television appearances in the Oh Boy show.

But the teenagers had faith in him. Cliff justified that faith. Today he is mobbed wherever he goes. ‘You miss being able to walk about unmolested,’ he says. ‘It would be nice to be able to wander about. But I like what I am doing, and that is enough to make up for it.’

In addition to the year’s stage and television successes, 1962 saw Cliff’s film The Young Ones, on release. It was a tremendous box-office success. And while the teenage fans naturally flocked to see him, so did the mums and dads, and there were many who came away from the cinema with the feeling that the Cliff of 1962 appeals to a far wider audience.

Like Cliff Richard, Tommy Steele, although he still has his youthful following, now appeals more to the family-type audience. Tommy was one of the pioneers of the business of disproving the cynics in their belief that his talent consisted only of an ability to strum a guitar and wiggle his hips.

Tommy gave a polished performance in Sunday Night at the London Palladium in January and offered a feast of entertainment later in the year when he appeared in his own show. When he made this appearance in Sunday Night at the London Palladium few people knew that he almost did not go on. When he arrived by cab for the afternoon rehearsal he discovered that he had left his music in the back of the taxi. A frantic search was begun and the police called in to help. Fortunately, the cabbie found the music, took it to a police station, and it was delivered to the Palladium by a constable.

‘Was I glad to see that policeman,’ said Tommy. ‘I wonder if that taxi driver knows that he probably saved the show that night.’ Tommy showed his appreciation by sending a reward to the police station for the driver.

Billy Fury, too, appeared in several ATV shows, including All That Jazz. Many people mistake Billy’s natural shyness for coldness. On a first meeting he is apt to appear quiet and serious. But once the ice is broken Billy quickly shows himself to be a warm, humorous person. His great love is fast cars — an interest he shares with many young pop singers, including Elvis Presley.

Of all the teenage stars to hit the headlines during the past year perhaps pert little Helen Shapiro has made the greatest impact. The latter half of 1961 found Helen an established star. And 1962 consolidated that success. Successive hit records brought fame to a poised 16-year-old girl who, when her first record was climbing high in the Top Ten, was still at a London school. Since then she has headlined Sunday Night at the London Palladium, appeared in Startime and starred in a two weeks’ season at the London Palladium Theatre.

In addition to these British successes, 1962 has witnessed another pop invasion from across the Atlantic. Brenda Lee, Neil Sedaka, Bobby Vee, Bobby Rydell, Jimmy Dean, Connie Francis and Pat Boone all came to Britain to star in Sunday Night at the London Palladium.

Pat Boone, now a firm favourite with British disc fans, came to make a film at Shepperton Studios and stayed for six months. Connie Francis, of course, has been a frequent visitor to these shores for a number of years and, as one Press man jokingly put it: ‘Connie comes here so often that the airlines are giving her a season ticket!’

Four years ago a petite 15-year-old American girl set foot in Britain for the first time. Her name? Brenda Lee. She appeared in a television show and immediately set people talking. In April of this year she returned again, this time as a fully fledged star, to top the Sunday Night at the London Palladium bill. During these four years Brenda had set the American pop world alight with her powerful voice and extraordinary personality.

Her youthful zest earned her the title ‘Miss Dynamite’ and, backed by several hit records and her successful Palladium appearance, Brenda set out to conquer Britain with a hectic tour of one night stands. Unanimously, British pop artistes acclaimed her. ‘Brenda is great,’ said Cliff Richard. While Helen Shapiro, who can probably claim to be Britain’s counterpart of this dynamic American teenager, said: ‘I think Brenda Lee is the greatest female rock singer.’ Adam Faith used Norman Vaughan’s expression to describe her. ‘I think Brenda is swinging,’ he said.

Apart from teenage entertainers, television during 1962 has seen appearances from many established star singers, from both sides of the Atlantic — artistes like Eartha Kitt, Matt Monro, Shirley Bassey, Frankie Vaughan and Lonnie Donegan. Donegan, for example, starred in another successful series of Putting on the Donegan shows for ATV and proved himself to be a dab hand at comedy in addition to being one of our most popular recording stars.

Matt Monro, the former busman, found a ready market for his talents in American night-spots. It is not easy for a British artiste to win acclaim in the United States but Matt was able to do this quite emphatically.

Before leaving the pop scene, mention must be made of a young man who, through those fine recordings Moon River and Jeannie, found a place in the top echelon — Danny Williams. Danny, the quiet spoken South African-born singer, has a style reminiscent of the velvety tones of Johnny Mathis. Danny appeared in All That Jazz for ATV.

It would not be right to talk about Cliff Richard without mentioning the fabulous Shadows — Brian Locking, Bruce Welch, Hank B. Marvin and Brian Bennet, who took over as the group’s drummer from Tony Meehan in the latter part of last year. Although they still back Cliff Richard, they are now stars in their own right, and in the past year there has been a friendly battle between the Shadows and Cliff for the top chart positions.

It has been a good year in the ‘pop’ music world.

The post The Pop Invasion appeared first on THIS IS MY 1960s from Transdiffusion.

It only takes two years to perfect and I’m taking my first lesson right now — from Lonnie Donegan, who is something of a past master.

Now I’ve always rated the boater as the Prince of Titfers. Rakish, practical, evocative of gay, carefree days gone by. And jolly British, too, by Gad. You don’t see many about these days and mores the pity. I can’t think why I haven’t plucked up the courage to don one until now.

It’s all thanks to Lonnie, you see. Reported to rehearsals for this week’s The Des O’Connor Show wearing one. He’s a boater man. Dapper, cheery, with a definite touch of the old music hall about his act.

So I’ve dropped in on Lonnie’s tree-shrouded, splendidly-designed bungalow in Surrey, to talk to an expert. About boaters.

And he’s delighted the subject has arisen.

“The boater,” he says, “represents a great era in show business… vaudeville and music hall. Audiences still enjoy seeing them. too. Give an act dash.”

Lonnie was introduced to his first boater 10 years ago, in an eccentric “double” with Billy Dainty. It was love at first sight. When touring New Zealand in 1961 with, coincidentally, Des O’Connor, he perfected his “Donegan Twitch,” an old-time hat trick of unknown origins but taught to Lonnie by gipsy singer Danny Purches during a backstage break.

It’s unfair, really. Watching experts like Lonnie, Frankie Vaughan, Tommy Trinder, we’re inclined to take their flashy interludes of hat handling very much for granted. Strictly a show biz embellishment. But it takes hours and hours of practice. Just for that dazzling moment of manipulation that we hardly notice.

Take the “Donegan Twitch.” Hat starts in right hand. It’s flicked, up and over. Caught precariously on the bridge formed by right thumb and forefinger. Then twitched on one forefinger for precisely one and a half revolutions. Then placed… or rather, clamped… upon head at suitably saucy angle.

Lonnie does it all in one magnificently nonchalant movement. And when he’s walking! Yes, walking. I’m stood still and in dead trouble with the first flick-up-and-over manoeuvre. You must make sure the bow in the ribbon doesn’t catch. And that bow must be on the left-hand side of the boater as worn. That’s sartorial tradition. No decent chap would ever abuse that.

Brightly, Lonnie adds: “I practised that routine solid for two years. Every day. Before I go on. I’ll do a dozen or so run-throughs. When you start, you get it right once in a hundred times then stop. Start again, get it right twice in a hundred times, then stop. And so on, until you get it right every time.”

Okay, so let’s chase my 100-1 chance. Flick… up… over… don’t snatch, now… twitch… oops, there goes another perfectly good boater, crashing on its brim on Lonnie’s plush, fitted lounge carpet.

“Boaters take a bit of a hammering,” says Lonnie, very philosophically. “I need a new one about every four months.”

A good boater is not all that easy to come by. Out of Luton’s (the traditional centre of the British hat industry) 241 manufacturers only one exclusively makes boaters.

“If I need a new one,” explained Lonnie, “I nose around to find the local meat market. Many butchers wouldn’t be seen without one. If there’s no meat market, then I try the nearest school outfitters — buy one, and change the ribbon. Some headmasters might get a bit shirty if they see me singing ‘My Old Man’s A Dustman’ while wearing the colours of a public school!”

He pays about £2 [£35.50 in 2018 prices allowing for inflation] a boater, and loves each one dearly. In America, those natty, serrated brim jobs cost up to a tenner. [£180]

And although boaters are considered frightfully English — tennis on the lawn and all that, chaps — the actual making of the plaits or braids for straw hats was first introduced by Mary, Queen of Scots, back in 1552.

Now there’s a thought. But for some completely unknown quirk in history, the Scottish national dress could be kilts and boaters!

Anyway, this week, in The Des O’Connor Show, Lonnie sings “Lily of Laguna,” “Tootsie,” and “I’m Looking Over A Four-Leaf Clover,” which are all jolly fine boater numbers. And I’m beginning to get the first flick-over right and now I’ve only got the twitch to go.

There’s progress for you.

The post Lanning at Large… In search of (well, almost) the last straw! appeared first on THIS IS MY 1960s from Transdiffusion.

LONNIE DONEGAN’s cheerful disposition always makes for a happy day in the Studio for the camera crews and technicians, and his individual sound has made him a great favourite of the ‘at-home’ viewers.

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