The E.B.C. Archives -
Original articles written by Ray Ennis
and first published in The Beat Goes On magazine
For over six years, Ray Ennis of The Swinging Blue Jeans enthralled sixties music fans with his monthly article published in The Beat Goes On magazine about the antics of the legendary Elbow Bending Club. Now, with Ray's permission, we are re-running these articles on the web.
What is the Elbow Bending Club? Well, no-one really knows except for the members themselves - and membership is restricted to 60s performers and other carefully selected people from within the business!
You can guarantee not missing each new edition by completing the Netmind box on the
main Swinging Blue Jeans page
THE EBC's JOLLY JAUNT TO WEMBLEY
The invitation to play at Wembley in September was received with
great jubilation by me, although I was wrong to assume Sven Goran
had heard I still had a few good years in me. From the start the
good lady wife was at fault as it was she (she opens all the post)
who chortled "They want you to play at Wembley." Giddy with
socceristic enthusiasm I honestly believed Glen Hoddle had seen the
light and wanted to infuse me into his squad. I had my beloved take
the hem of my shorts up an inch, then put a fresh coat of dubbin on
the old boots. She repaired a hole in the toe cap and nailed a new
set of real leather studs on. Then, I noticed the headed notepaper
of the letter and it dawned on me the gig was for the Variety Club
of Great Britain in aid of children's charities!
As there was such a vast backstage area at Wembley, and I couldn't
cover everything as well as concentrate my attention on the bar, I
opted for the lesser of a selection of evils and enlisted the
assistance of Malcolm Cook, play boy, wag and friend of the stars!
The backstage bar looked just like the bar scene from Star Wars
(pre-make up of course), with EBC members doing battle with hangers
-on and non-members for free drinks. Having had far more bar-room
jostling experience I'm happy to say the EBC lot won on points.
Luckily for me, the bar was manned by two EBC stalwarts, Alan The
Lush' Wilson manager of Marmalade, and his side-kick and noted
Marmalade roadie, Brian. There was only wine and beer available,
not a spirit in sight (much to my dismay) so I settled for a glass
of red wine, which young Brian obligingly served in a half pint
mug... .a rich red House Chateau S. .T 1926 I think it was, or was it
1996? Anyway the last time I tasted anything quite like it was on a
helping of chips late one night at a transport cafe on the old A1.
The organisers had seconded the advise and production ability of
ace show stager Hal Carter CBE (commission before engagement), and
it was good to see that his advise had been accepted, hence they
went to great lengths to indulge our every whim. Draught Grecian
2000 was available on request, the oxygen cylinder was on standby
and a small team of Red Cross Nurses (ably assisted by Nurse
Thompson) took our blood pressure every 30 minutes, and there was
even a nice young man who would restyle your hair-piece for you
while you waited. Such was the backstage attendance, the
requisitioned area for parking zimmer frames was full by half past
severn!
I was telling Wayne Fontana about a guy we met on a flight to
Sweden, who told us he knew Wayne very well from their school
days. I told him we'd be seeing Wayne at Wembley and he said "Just
tell him Ray Crawford sends his regards, he'll know who I
am." After I told Wayne I noticed a puzzled expression covering his
face "Never heard of him" he replied "But the guy was adament he
knows you" I said. To help I mentioned the fellow was one of twins
to which Wayne replied "Oh, I probably know his brother!"
Looking around the ensemble mass of musso's, Vocaliers, Librettists
and other dandies of the rock'n'pop era I noted my old mate Reg
Presley had put on a lot of weight, then Thumper Braid brought me
down to earth when his dulcet tones murmured "It's his wallet!"
On my next saunter to the bar for a second helping of the rich red
I was suddenly aware that I was a good six feet tall, the mind
boggled, then I realised I was standing on Twinkle who had taken up
residence on the bar floor so as to conserve energy while drinks
were lowered down to her at five minute intervals!
Marthy Berry cornered me (you only have to nod in some peoples
direction and they think they know you enough to talk to)! Anyway,
Mrs Berry told me about the wine she and the old man (old being the
operative word) were making. As I understand it (and it was hard
going as one minute the poor woman chats away in English,the next
she's waffling on in Dutch), they've blended a fine red Muscadet
with a divine (her words not mine) Hock. They have decided to call
it MU-CK!
She also mentioned how husband Dave was keenly into making
ginger-beer (I never said a word!) and had been allowing it to
ferment in their wardrobe , until one night they were rudely
awakened by the wardrobe being blown to smithereens. Too much gas I
suppose, but Dave should've known all about having to deal with too
much gas!
Low point of the night for me was when I offered Bert Weedon a
discount on membership of the EBC..... .which he politely
declined. Then, as he stopped to put on his bike clips I heard him
muttering "Who the hell was that?"
Best looking couple on the night must go to Julie Rogers whose
entire ensemble (head to toe) looked stunning, and husband/agent
Michael 'a deals a deal' Black. Michael's suave sophisticated
jacket smartly kicked even Jess Conrad's glittering ensemble into
touch!
All in all, it was a fantastic night for all of us, so on behalf of
the EBC a big THANK YOU goes out to everybody in the audience who
came and supported such a good cause.
And one person who should've received a big bouquet on the night
was indeed young (young!!!!) Hal Carter, without whose expertise at
staging such shows I doubt very much if it would have run so
smoothly, I still think it was a miracle the show ended before
midnight.
The journey home was as boring as ever. From Wembley to south of
Birmingham all we heard was Phil the medic' Thompson going on
about "Not one person fainted all night , and I've still got a full
packet of three" (elastoplasts). Colin 'fingers' Manley told me
(discreetly, as on the day he may change his mind) that if he ever
wins the lottery he'll buy Phil his own hospital. Les thumper'
Braid was pretty peeved too "Six hours in a back stage bar and not
a piano in sight!"
P.S. Reference the Editor's comments in last months edition of
TBGO. Tell me, what's wrong with hugging your friends when you
meet?. And with regards to kissing them on the cheek, I wish to
point out I was merely whispering in their ear so as to enquire as
to the location of the Bar. Dave Berry was different. .HE KISSED
ME!
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