Jazz Remembered

Bill Brunskill Remembered

by Don Coe

Inspired by the articles written by Ron Drakeford about jazz in Kingston-on-Thames (here), banjo player Don Coe recalls life with Bill Brunskill's band:

Let me say, right up front, that I played the banjo with more enthusiasm than talent. I have an enormous respect for the technical ability of present-day banjoists and can never hope to achieve the digital dexterity of most of them.

Would I want to? I don’t think so. In the days of the jazz revival in this country it was the job of the rhythm section to lay down a solid, exciting beat and, by God, was it exciting! A solo then was once through the tune thumping out the basic chords, with an occasional glance at the chord book and the odd tremolo and flick roll. The main idea was to give the front line a rest. The drummer also went wild for a few bars hitting everything in sight.

My introduction to jazz was immediately after demob from the army in ‘51. I was given a banjo by a colleague at work who played guitar, and he announced that we would go next week to the Camberwell Art School where there was to be a dance. I had a week to learn a few chords. He had arranged that we would sit in after the interval and said, “Don’t worry, it’ll be so loud that they won’t hear you anyway”

We did and they didn’t! The band was the Crane River Jazz Band with John RT Davies, Ken Colyer and, I think, Ian Wheeler - it was all such a blur.

Here is a recording of the Crane River band in August 1950 playing Just A Little While To Stay Here. The line-up on this audio track was:- Ken Colyer (trumpet); Sonny Morris (cornet); John R.T. Davies (trombone); Monty Sunshine (clarinet); Pat Hawes (piano); Ben Marshall (banjo); Julian Davies (bass) and John Westwood (drums); (Not the line-up shown on the band photograph, which was taken later).

I married soon after this and we went one Sunday evening to the “Fighting Cocks” at Kingston to listen and dance to Bill Brunskill and his band. Several weeks later when we were on nodding terms with the band, I had the temerity to ask Bill if I could sit in one night. “Of course” he said. (In all the years I played with Bill I never recall him refusing anyone a sit in). The following week I noticed that the banjo player had changed. It was Eddie Smith, who was to join Chris Barber a couple of weeks later. Eddie was filling in for Bill’s full time banjoist who had moved on.

I couldn’t have been that bad because soon after Bill asked if I would like to join him until he could find a full time banjo. I was to stay with him for many years.

Don Coe

We were resident at a Club in Gerrard Street, London; on Sunday afternoons at the Cy Laurie Club in Windmill Street and at the ‘Cocks’, Kingston, on Sunday evenings. The Band comprised Bernie Newlands (trombone, Bernie raced a Riley Nine), Bill (Trumpet/Cornet), Reg Woolley (clarinet), Me (banjo), Blind Johnny Fletcher (washboard, thimbles and cowbells (!) and Bill 'Punchy' Wren (piano).

Because of Johnny’s contacts at the Royal Institute for the Blind, we blagged rehearsal facilities at their HQ in Tottenham Court Road. The first night I attended we struggled up three flights of stairs in the pitch dark, Johnny leading ‘cos he knew the way. He had neglected to ask them to leave the lights on. Bill tripped on the stairs and put a dent in his cornet. He never let Johnny forget it at subsequent jobs. He would shake his fist a couple of inches from his nose and say, with a grin, “Look at that, you crab – buggered up a perfectly good instrument”! Johnny, not able to see would just put two fingers up and carry on assembling his cowbells.

I had arrived in at the deep end. So there I was, a fully fledged member of Bill Brunskill Jazz Band with a brand new chord book with about ten tunes copied from that of Bill Wren. Bill Brunskill was so tolerant that he would call a tune and ask me if that was OK. If not Bill Wren would call the chords with his stentorian voice while I scribbled them into my book! Sometimes he would say, “Just like ‘Closer Walk’ but move it up a couple of frets”

Then Bill would give one of his crooked smiles and stomp it in.

I remember a time when we were well into the second half at Gerrard Street and the place was really rocking. Moisture was dripping from the ceiling and we were all in a euphoric haze. The ‘stage’ was made up of trestle table tops supported on beer crates and was bouncing up and down in time to Blind Johnny Fletcher’s right foot. The piano was on the floor to the right and Bill 'Punchy' Wren was in a world of his own.

Through the fog of sweat, dust and cigarette smoke we could see four or five black guys carrying suspicious looking cases forcing their way through to the front. Bill blew louder and faster which didn’t exactly have the calming effect he intended.

With a final flourish of his horn, Bill ended the tune and confronted the visitors. They had just finished a concert at the Earls Court NFJO concert and had been advised to visit Gerrard Street to 'ferret out Bill Brunskill, who would be sure to invite them to sit in’.

So it came about that Albert Nicholas and three others, whose names I never did learn, climbed up onto the stage and, for the next 30 minutes or so, blew, banged and sang us into oblivion. It all ended uproariously when the beer crates finally gave in and we all collapsed in laughter over Bill Wren who said something like, “F*** it” , got up from the floor and walked out!

One of our venues was at Richmond. It must have been in 1955 ‘cos my wife, Bron, was very pregnant with our first born, Steve, and he arrived in May of that year. Arriving in the town I slammed on the brakes of my Austin Seven and rammed the back of a car waiting at a set of lights. The furious driver insisted that I follow him round the corner to exchange details. I did - but unfortunately whacked into his car again just as he was getting out! He was now incandecent with rage (I think Don means 'incandescent', but who knows ... Ed). He opened my door, presumably to drag me out and beat me up. At that, Bron gave a convincing groan of imminent childbirth and the driver stopped in his tracks, apologising profusely when I told him that we were seeking a hospital – urgently. He drove off. We drove the few yards to the Jazz Club and had a great session. Bill was so impressed with the excuse for my delayed arrival that he became Godfather to my son, Steve.

Bernie Newlands (trombone), had moved on by now and his place had been filled by Fred Bannister (Fred married Wendy, daughter of the Richmond Jazz Club proprieter). We played an enormous variety of venues. Those which spring to mind are, New Cross Working Men's Club, Eel Pie Island, Walton-on-Thames at the Nat Gonella Club, (I believe that Bill Brunskill had played guitar with Nat in a previous life), Hampstead Youth Club, Riverboat Shuffles and Southend Pier.

My most memorable times are definitely those when we played the Cy Laurie Club on Sunday afternoons, then on to the ‘Fighting Cocks’ for the evening session. I was working in Charing Cross Road at that time and lived in Kingston. Parking was a doddle in those days before yellow lines and parking meters. I would park in Windmill Street, drop the banjo off in the Club, walk round to the ‘Star’ restaurant in Old Compton Street for a cheese sandwich and coffee, and that would keep me going until a beer and crisps at the ‘Cocks’ in the evening.

Here is the Bill Brunskill band in the Early 1960s playing the Robert E. Lee at the Fighting Cocks:

Sometime during this period Johnny Fletcher had moved on, I think that his wife had died, and he was replaced by Sandy Saunders on drums and we now had ‘Uncle John’ Renshaw with his patched-up bass. Bill Wren was still with us. I cannot recall who was on clarinet. It wasn’t Reg Woolley. Fred Bannister at sometime gave way to Terry Pitts. (Certainly Terry was playing with us at Gerrard Street when Mike Peters and Eddie Smith who were sitting in the front row, said to Bill Brunskill with a grin, “We’re not really here to hear your trombone player”) Terry left us soon after!

Uncle' John had a Vespa. One afternoon during the interval he took me on the pillion and drove us round and round Trafalgar Square at silly speeds. He had an old telephone, complete with bell ringing tone, screwed to the footboards and operated by a footswitch. He would draw up alongside an unsuspecting car, ring the bell and ‘answer’ the phone. No wonder his bass was is such a state. The Vespa was his only means of transport and he would strap the bass to the pillion with the finger board resting on his shoulder. I’m not so sure that that would be allowed these days.

There’s someone I’d dearly love to make contact with. Apart from Uncle John Renshaw I never did know who played bass with us. When John formed his Elastic Band his time with us faded. One night at the ‘Cocks’ in around 1960 or a little later, a stocky Scot asked for a sit in. He was a bass player and happened to have his fiddle with him ‘just outside’. We knew him simply as 'Mac'. He joined us there and then and stayed until long after I left Bill to join the Jubilee Jazzmen – the 'Jubes'. Mac would slap not only the strings but also the back of the instrument in a dominating 6/8 time regardless of the tempo, whether it be a march or a stomp. We fell about in glee. I’d just love to know what happened to Mac.

I feel that it needs to be firmly understood by those who were not there at the time, that bands like Bill Brunskill, the Jubilee Jazzmen and many, many others were strictly amateur. We all had jobs to go to during the day. It says a lot for the talent that formed those bands that they were invariably welcomed into the Big Clubs of the day by the resident band and we often descended into cellars to sit in with the likes of Humphrey Lyttelton at 100 Oxford Street, and, if we could get past Ruby on the door, Ken Colyer in Newport Street.

Bill was always greeted with affection at these places. He was half a generation older than most of us and was a kindly, avuncular man. He was vigorously protective of the band members and once, when we were threatened by a group of Teddy Boys at the end of the session after a job at a Hampstead youth club, he led the way to our transport, his Morris Ten station wagon, inviting them to deal with him first. He was a Judo Black Belt and an instructor at Kendo so I suppose it was his demeanor which had the lads scatter.

Talking of Bill’s motor car, it had a dodgy S.U. petrol pump which needed regular stimulation in the form of a heavy boot on the firewall to keep the solenoid awake. This was particularly important to him when we went south of the river through the Blackwall Tunnel. The cost of a tow out of the tunnel was not to be considered by Bill who, on the approach to the tunnel, would shout to the occupant of the passenger seat, “Kick the bugger, kick the bugger”. This never failed to reduce the rest of us to tears of laughter, until finally Sandy Sanders put his foot right through the rusty part of the firewall and a trip to a breaker's yard in Bromley cured the problem for good. Bill found a ‘new’ pump for a quid. We had a whip round.

Just some of the musicians who were regular sitters-in or deps. at the ‘Cocks’ and at the parties held afterwards, include Mole Benn, Neil Millet, Greg Potter, Bill Skinner, Terry Pitts, Brian Taylor, Jim Sheppard, Cyril Keefer and, of course most of the Jubilee guys.

During the years I was with Bill Brunskill and in particular at my local venue, the ‘Fighting Cocks’ we had a loyal following of fans who would invite us to parties. Living in a flat next door to the ‘Cocks’ were John and Yvonne; at Cobham, Austin and Angela, and then there were Frank and Eileen who lived on a boat at Surbiton, the three most-remembered couples who were to become close friends.

The band would cram into living rooms, both on and behind sofas, in gardens and bedrooms – they were fun times. In the small hours when things quietened down, we would lounge about in an alchoholic haze listening to Armstrong, Ellington and Clarence Williams on 78’s

It was with Bill’s band that I was introduced to Riverboat Shuffles. One particular shuffle from Kingston to Windsor comes to mind. Bill was playing the promenade deck and the Jubes (Jubilee Jazz Band) were down below in the saloon. When we moored up to go through locks, both bands would disembark on to the bankside and the fans would dance both on the boat and on the tow path. There’s nothing quite like playing and listening to good jazz on a warm, sunny and lazy summer afternoon in the open air. At Molesey Lock, a fan called John, who had brought along a sousaphone hoping for a sit in, slipped and fell into the Thames. He spent a long time getting water and weed from the yards of brass tube and caused much laughter in his attempts to get the thing going again.

We were invited to North London one weekend for a garden party adjoining Hampstead Heath. The band and dancers spilled out on to the Heath and we were joined by the Jubilee Jazzmen at sometime during the second day, a Saturday, in the afternoon. We must have stayed the night there. I recall that Greg Potter was on banjo and I was invited to double up with Greg for a while. It was around this time I joined the ‘Jubes’ and Greg moved on.

I remember the very last job I had with Bill. It was at ‘The Lord Napier’ in Thornton Heath, the first time we had played that venue, and it proved to be that evening when Bill negotiated a residency. I did visit the ‘Napier’ some years later when Bill’s son, Bill junior, was on banjo. Things had changed quite a bit and I was led to believe by Bill that the consensus was that there would be no more ‘sit-ins’. Sad really. That was the last time I ever saw dear Bill.

Here is a video of Bill playing at the Lord Napier in 1999.

Don Coe's memories of Bill Brunskill triggered memories from others:

Alex Revell writes: "Don Coe's piece about Bill being a judo expert reminded me of a gig I once did many years ago with Bill at, I think, Mike Daniels' club in Soho. There were some young black guys - students I think - in the audience and some yobs came in and started to hassle them, calling them the usual names. The black guys kept quiet, which wound up the yobs even more and things started to look really nasty. Bill put down his trumpet and got down off the stand to sort things out. Not knowing about Bill's judo skills, I said to the trombone player, whose name I forget, "We'd better get down there and give him a hand!" He said not to worry, Bill could take care of himself. I have a memory of bodies flying in all directions, with little Bill in the centre. When the police finally came I think the result was a couple broken arms and legs amongst the yobs. Bill was quite unperturbed. He was quite a character."

Wendy Sherborne adds: "My Dad, Michael Sherborne (often spelt with a 'u' by mistake) was in Bill Brunskill's Jazzmen as the trombonist and also played with Ken Coyler's Climax Band. I have some records they made still. I have heard him on Youtube sing 'Ol Man Mose', he is now 74 still alive and kickin'. He often talks of the Lord Napier pub and the trips to Canada, Germany, etc. on various tours with bands and playing with Monty Sunshine etc., but he never kept in contact with other band members after moving to South Wales in 1982. I think a few have passed away since. He isn't involved in music anymore and doesn't play the trombone any longer. Mick is on an album cover - first from the right with the beard! If anyone has any information I would like to hear more about him."

Ann Clarke remembers: "The late fifties - those were good old days in Kingston. I was with my friend Carol Mayer who shared my love of Trad. which was inherited from my young father who had a collection of records. He would come and pick us up from the Fighting Cocks, only because it was an excuse to listen to Bill Brunskill. Carol and I were at Kingston Art School and life revolved around the venues, The Swan at Mill Street (Fridays?), Burtons (Thursdays) -The Fighting Cocks, where we drank cider, and once could afford 2 pints, and were dancing all the way home. We also went to the Commodore down by the river, ran by two men who took us home to try and find out whether they were gay or not. They decided they were. I remember one of the best dancers went under the nickname of 'Drake' - he had a beard. The Fighting Cocks was definitely the favourite."

Peter Fenton in Cyprus writes: "I was delighted to read the great article on Bill and jazz at The Fighting Cocks. To start with, I met Don Coe in around early 1960, probably at the Organ Inn in Ewell, where Brian White played on Wednesdays? I remember Don's Frazer-Nash which I believe had a "live rear axel" meaning there wasn't a differential playing havoc with tires !! His banjo I believe had a particularly large diameter drum. Funny things one can remember after 60 odd years. I first started playing drums in 1956 while still at Dorking Grammar School and accompanied Neville Dickie on piano during the the interval at the Organ Inn, staying put for the first number once the band returned. My adventures during the following years were amazing. Playing with several bands and eventually living for a year in Los Angeles where musicians such as Alton Purnell and Tudie Garland also lived. A visit to New Orleans and Preservation Hall was another highlight as was sitting in with the George Lewis band. After returning to the U.K. In 1965, I joined Ken Colyer for a few gigs following the departure of Pete Ridge in 1966. Memories of fun times abound."

Clarinettist Chris Watford recalls: "In 1956/7 I worked in Aldershot, and used to go up to London on a Sunday afternoon and sit in with Bill Brunskill's band at the Cy Laurie Club, opposite the Windmill Theatre. One time, he sked me if I could help him out that evening, at the Fighting Cocks, Kingston, so I agreed, and jumped in his band wagon. John Evans ran the club , and after taking the money on the door, used to join the band on his sousaphone for the last few numbers. He used to get annoyed when a lady threw a light bulb down the bell of the instrument! I asked him how I was going to get a train from Surbiton back to Aldershot after the session ended, and he said "Don't worry, I'll give you a lift". I relaxed, and enjoyed playing clarinet - until Bill suggested playing Perdido Street Blues. I waited, as the banjo plonked out the same chord in the intro, waiting for Bill to do the trumpet solo, and the wait went on for ever ! Bill had forgotten that I was depping that night, and afterwards he said "My clarinettist plays the trumpet bit" ! At the end of the session, John Evans said he was ready to give me a lift to Surbiton station, but he had not told me that he was on a motor bike! He placed the bell of his sousaphone over my right arm, and put the rest of the instrument round his waist. As soon as we got up to 20mph the wind pressure on the bell almost took my arm off, and I was hanging on to him with my other hand ! We made it in the end, but I never rode pillion again !"

So what happened to Bill Brunskill? In 1984 George Melly introduced a documentary Whatever Happened To Bill Brunskill that looked back at the times of the trumpeter and bandleader. Here is the video (approx 51 minutes)

Bill Brunskill is clearly fondly remembered. Born on the 2nd of February, 1920, Bill passed through the Departure Lounge on the 18th November 2002. His obituary in The Guardian is here.

Ray Root sent us this verse that he wrote after hearing Bill:

Thank You Bill Brunskill

Goodbye Bill Brunskill and thank you!

For those memorable Sunday lunchtime sessions

In shabby, seventies Beulah Road!

Dwarfed by that famous Napier mural

In your hallmark braces and baggy trousers

You blew a mean Cornet, Bill!

Across London - By clapped out rusty Datsun

A to Z in hand

We'd travel far to hear you!

And once outside that famous pub

Before we'd even cut the engine

We'd catch your golden tones!

Sometimes we'd even bring the kids!

Stuff them with crisps and lemonade -

Hoped to keep 'em quiet

Whilst you played the blues!

Now Fifty somethings looking back -

They too remember your music with affection, Bill!

As nearby homesteads - oblivious

sat down with the wireless and their Sunday Roast

We disciples tucked into your jazz

Supped our pint or two of Youngs and listened intently

As you blew away our workday worries!

We'd bag a beer stained table by the band

Chat to strangers - make new friends

Relish that happy fellowship

A common interest shared -

That you and your jazz inspired!

But all good things come to an end!

Last Orders please! One more number, Bill!

Reluctantly we'd leave that smoke filled pub

Ugh! Bright Sunlight!

Check the Datsun still has wheels!

Homeward bound - we hummed your tunes

Thank you Bill Brunskill!

Don Coe's memories of the Jubilee Jazz Band and other Jazz Bands of the time will be featured in a separate article.