Some time later I decided to find out about cinema organ lessons. It surprises me now to think that I was brave enough to go in to the Odeon in Glasgow and ask to see the organist, Lyndon Laird. He came to the vestibule and explained that, because of wartime restrictions on the use of electricity, the times when the organ could be used were severely limited. However he took me in to a seat in the back stalls, gave me a cigarette and left me to enjoy a free show. I visited him once or twice, and each time we sat at the back of the cinema, discussing music in whispers.
There was just the one occasion when I had a “go” on a cinema organ. I had contacted Frank Olsen (about lessons) who played the Gaumont cinemas in Glasgow and he arranged to meet me in the New Savoy one Saturday morning.
The instrument, a 2 manual Christie, which probably dated from early in the century, had been in the Tivoli, Glasgow before coming to the New Savoy in 1935. I was surprised to find the keys yellow and worn with age, and disappointed to see that the console was fixed and didn’t come up from the depths!
What did I play? I can remember two of the pieces. The Giant Fugue by Bach (nicknamed Giant not because of its difficulty or its length, but just because the pedal part was said to resemble the wide strides of a giant) and a popular tune “Memories of You.”
In 1958 the New Savoy closed down and, as usually happened to unwanted organs, the instrument was broken up. I’ve no doubt parts went to augment organs in churches all over the country.
A few weeks later I got my calling up papers for National Service, and I didn’t pursue the idea any further.
However, more than 40 years later, after I retired from office work, I was given the opportunity to play the kind of music the cinema organists used to play. I found that all the local care homes for older folk had electronic organs, and I volunteered to visit them every week and entertain the residents. I played Sousa marches, Strauss waltzes, light classical pieces, songs from the shows and always finishing with a sing-along medley. I was in my element!!!
-o0o-
Here are a few memories from the days I entertained old folk.
I remember the first visit I made to one of the homes. I mounted the platform, sat down at the organ, smiled down to my audience, and one VERY old lady said to her neighbours "He was at school with me!"
At another place, there was a old chap who had played sax in a dance band. The old tunes that I played must have brought back memories to him, for occasionally he wiped tears from his eyes.
I was often asked for requests. One old lady wanted the same tune every week "I'll See You in my Dreams," and in the end I always concluded my programme with that number.
On the days when I was expected at the homes, the residents were always seated waiting for me. At one particular place, as soon as I walked into the room, one old woman would get up, walk out and not return till I had finished playing. Someone suggested she was a music-lover!!!
I remember the first visit I made to one of the homes. I mounted the platform, sat down at the organ, smiled down to my audience, and one VERY old lady said to her neighbours "He was at school with me!"
At another place, there was a old chap who had played sax in a dance band. The old tunes that I played must have brought back memories to him, for occasionally he wiped tears from his eyes.
I was often asked for requests. One old lady wanted the same tune every week "I'll See You in my Dreams," and in the end I always concluded my programme with that number.
On the days when I was expected at the homes, the residents were always seated waiting for me. At one particular place, as soon as I walked into the room, one old woman would get up, walk out and not return till I had finished playing. Someone suggested she was a music-lover!!!
-o0o-
When I was a young boy, Easter wasn’t really important in Scottish life.
Holy Week wasn’t observed and as for Good Friday - that was the day we
got hot cross buns! Easter Monday was the Spring holiday in Glasgow, but
in many other places the holiday was either the Monday before or the
Monday after.
On Sunday of course we attended church. That was certainly an important occasion because, apart from the religious significance, Easter Sunday was the day when all the women and girls turned out in new hats, dresses, etc. And I’m sure there was quite a bit of rivalry between certain ladies!
It was just recently I learned that by the end of the 16th century it had become the fashion to wear new clothes at Easter. Much later, Poor Robin who was an 18th century almanac maker is recorded as saying -
At Easter let your clothes be new
Or else be sure you will it rue.
On Sunday of course we attended church. That was certainly an important occasion because, apart from the religious significance, Easter Sunday was the day when all the women and girls turned out in new hats, dresses, etc. And I’m sure there was quite a bit of rivalry between certain ladies!
It was just recently I learned that by the end of the 16th century it had become the fashion to wear new clothes at Easter. Much later, Poor Robin who was an 18th century almanac maker is recorded as saying -
At Easter let your clothes be new
Or else be sure you will it rue.
-o0o-
I've been thinking about medicines we got when we were children.
The cure for a sore throat was gargling with salty water, but I vaguely remember getting some kind of warm poultice put round my neck.
Dock leaves were used for nettle stings. And a small bottle of iodine was always produced for a cut, a small wound or a grazed knee.
I was reading in another blog that bleeding from small cuts could be arrested by the application of greaseproof paper with butter spread on it.
For some children the cure for constipation was blackberries and for others raw or cooked onions.
It seems that a mixture of sulphur and treacle was given once a week to many children, and that’s something I hadn’t heard of.
Also new to me was brown paper sprinkled with vinegar and pepper applied to the cheek to combat the toothache. In our family the cure was the application of oil of cloves to the gum, but I don’t think it was all that successful.
I’ve just remembered another bottle on the medicine shelf - Sloan’s Liniment, for aches and pains.
The cure for a sore throat was gargling with salty water, but I vaguely remember getting some kind of warm poultice put round my neck.
Dock leaves were used for nettle stings. And a small bottle of iodine was always produced for a cut, a small wound or a grazed knee.
I was reading in another blog that bleeding from small cuts could be arrested by the application of greaseproof paper with butter spread on it.
For some children the cure for constipation was blackberries and for others raw or cooked onions.
It seems that a mixture of sulphur and treacle was given once a week to many children, and that’s something I hadn’t heard of.
Also new to me was brown paper sprinkled with vinegar and pepper applied to the cheek to combat the toothache. In our family the cure was the application of oil of cloves to the gum, but I don’t think it was all that successful.
I’ve just remembered another bottle on the medicine shelf - Sloan’s Liniment, for aches and pains.
I was always needing something to “build me up” and the doctor usually
prescribed a bottle of brown stuff. There was of course the occasional
dose of syrup of figs or castor oil, and for a while (perhaps in the
winter time) we were given a daily spoonful of malt and cod liver oil.
There was also emulsion - this was a white thick substance in a bottle
and it too was administered in a spoon. I remember something that we
called thermogen - it was like a big chunk of pink cotton wool, and it
was placed on my chest under my pyjama jacket at bedtime. Perhaps this
was used if I had a cold in my chest.
-o0o-
DO YOU REMEMBER . . . .
when milk was delivered to your doorstep in glass bottles?
when a film, a short feature, a cartoon and a newsreel were all included in a night at the pictures?
when washing had to be put through a ringer to squeeze out the excess water?
when milk was delivered to your doorstep in glass bottles?
when a film, a short feature, a cartoon and a newsreel were all included in a night at the pictures?
when washing had to be put through a ringer to squeeze out the excess water?
when the bus conductress was in charge, belling the driver when to stop
and when to start? Between bus stops she would do her rounds collecting
the fares.
when the usual way of getting a TV was not to buy one, but to get it on rental? A weekly visit to the TV shop with the payments book was a must.
when the usual way of getting a TV was not to buy one, but to get it on rental? A weekly visit to the TV shop with the payments book was a must.
when the commercial station Radio Luxembourg was famous for its broadcasts of popular music?
when very often two houses had to share a phone line?
If you remember all these things, you must be getting on a bit.
when very often two houses had to share a phone line?
If you remember all these things, you must be getting on a bit.
IF YOU REMEMBER (as I do) . . . .
well-dressed gents wearing spats, gas-lit street lamps, horse-driven vans, listening to Harry Lauder on the wireless, Mrs Simpson, the launch of the Queen Mary, the Lambeth Walk, and young ladies sporting the earphone hairstyle,
well-dressed gents wearing spats, gas-lit street lamps, horse-driven vans, listening to Harry Lauder on the wireless, Mrs Simpson, the launch of the Queen Mary, the Lambeth Walk, and young ladies sporting the earphone hairstyle,
Then you’re definitely ancient!!!
-o0o-
When I was a boy, my parents opened a savings account for me. I was
given a bank book in my name, and felt quite grown-up going into the
bank and making my small deposit.
I remember the words that appeared on the first page of the bank book - “Take care of the pennies and the pounds will take care of themselves.” And at the bottom of the page I read that I should never be ashamed of depositing small sums, and was assured that “the manager will rejoice to see you with your shilling.”
I remember the words that appeared on the first page of the bank book - “Take care of the pennies and the pounds will take care of themselves.” And at the bottom of the page I read that I should never be ashamed of depositing small sums, and was assured that “the manager will rejoice to see you with your shilling.”
-o0o-
I must admit that I miss those far off days when I produced my bank book
each time I made a transaction and had it marked up. Nowadays they try
to persuade me to use the automatic teller thing (they have one inside
and one outside) but I prefer to join the queue and have a real person
deal with me!
And while I’m thinking of the good old days, I look back fondly when customers were served by shop assistants at the counter and all their purchases were brought to them. Mind you, I suppose I’ve got used to trailing around supermarket aisles. And we’re fortunate in Sainsbury’s where you can always find an assistant who will actually take you find the item you’re seeking. Not so in Tesco’s where often can’t find anyone to help.
And while I’m thinking of the good old days, I look back fondly when customers were served by shop assistants at the counter and all their purchases were brought to them. Mind you, I suppose I’ve got used to trailing around supermarket aisles. And we’re fortunate in Sainsbury’s where you can always find an assistant who will actually take you find the item you’re seeking. Not so in Tesco’s where often can’t find anyone to help.
-o0o-
When my sister Rita and I get together, the conversation very often turns to the time when we were children.
Last week end we were reminiscing and I was remembering that, when visiting a house where there was a piano, or when guests came to our home, we would usually be asked to perform. I told her that I was always sitting quietly, desperate to hear the question “Are you going to play something for us, John?” From what Rita said, I think she was sitting quietly, hoping that she wouldn’t be asked to perform!!!
Last week end we were reminiscing and I was remembering that, when visiting a house where there was a piano, or when guests came to our home, we would usually be asked to perform. I told her that I was always sitting quietly, desperate to hear the question “Are you going to play something for us, John?” From what Rita said, I think she was sitting quietly, hoping that she wouldn’t be asked to perform!!!
When we were much older, we played piano duets together and did quite a bit of entertaining around the town. In fact, we popped up so often at social evenings that probably some folk would whisper to their neighbour “Oh no, not those two again!!!”
We had a big book of duets, consisting of light classical pieces from the Victorian era. I remember one which wasn’t in that collection - “Country Gardens” by Percy Grainger.
-o0o-
Watching the Queen deliver her Christmas Day message, I was reminded of a
very emotive broadcast given by her father George VI. The occasion was
Christmas 1939, just a few months after the start of World War II.
Because of his speech impediment, he spoke very slowly and deliberately, and this made his message sound all the more serious. “A new year is at hand,” he told us, “we cannot tell what it will bring. If it brings peace, how thankful we shall all be. If it brings us continual struggle we shall remain undaunted.” And he concluded with a quote which has now become famous. The words are from a poem by Minnie Louise Haskins.
And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year, “Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.”
And he replied, “Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the hand of God. That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.”
I believe that the thought expressed in those simple words had a profound effect on all who heard the broadcast.
That led me to remember another royal broadcast, this one four years earlier, on 11th December 1936 when I was 11 years old. That was when the uncrowned King Edward announced on the radio that he was abdicating. I remember the unusually serious faces of my parents as they sat listening to the King’s message which told the nation of his inability to do his job “as I would have wished” without the support of “the woman I love.” The woman in question of course was Mrs. Simpson, a twice-divorced American who was considered to be quite unsuitable a person to be our Queen.
And, while I’m reminiscing, I must tell you of another broadcast (not a royal one) which caused some excitement at the time. It happened on the evening of 15th October 1940. As usual we were sitting in the living room listening to the news on the wireless. Suddenly there was some kind of crashing sound from the radio. The announcer Bruce Belfrage hesitated for a moment or two, and then carried on reading the news.
Later we learned that a 500 lb bomb had been dropped on broadcasting house, killing 7 BBC staff members. There was a great deal of praise for Bruce Belfrage who had managed to keep going, despite the fact that the ceiling had fallen around him.
Because of his speech impediment, he spoke very slowly and deliberately, and this made his message sound all the more serious. “A new year is at hand,” he told us, “we cannot tell what it will bring. If it brings peace, how thankful we shall all be. If it brings us continual struggle we shall remain undaunted.” And he concluded with a quote which has now become famous. The words are from a poem by Minnie Louise Haskins.
And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year, “Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.”
And he replied, “Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the hand of God. That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.”
I believe that the thought expressed in those simple words had a profound effect on all who heard the broadcast.
That led me to remember another royal broadcast, this one four years earlier, on 11th December 1936 when I was 11 years old. That was when the uncrowned King Edward announced on the radio that he was abdicating. I remember the unusually serious faces of my parents as they sat listening to the King’s message which told the nation of his inability to do his job “as I would have wished” without the support of “the woman I love.” The woman in question of course was Mrs. Simpson, a twice-divorced American who was considered to be quite unsuitable a person to be our Queen.
And, while I’m reminiscing, I must tell you of another broadcast (not a royal one) which caused some excitement at the time. It happened on the evening of 15th October 1940. As usual we were sitting in the living room listening to the news on the wireless. Suddenly there was some kind of crashing sound from the radio. The announcer Bruce Belfrage hesitated for a moment or two, and then carried on reading the news.
Later we learned that a 500 lb bomb had been dropped on broadcasting house, killing 7 BBC staff members. There was a great deal of praise for Bruce Belfrage who had managed to keep going, despite the fact that the ceiling had fallen around him.
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