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to Chapter 19
20
Gentlemen and Players
(From rogue and vagabond to Professional
Musician)
Music not accepted as a profession
in the 19th century. Seeking professional identity – various associations
– the London Orchestral Association, Archer Street, the ISM and MU.
The effect of broadcasting and recording. Pirate, commercial and local
radio. BBC radio since 1922
By the middle of the 19th century
it was generally accepted that a professional was someone who had
a vocation and followed an occupation as his or her means of livelihood
that required advanced learning and the passing of a test or examination
whereby a qualification was achieved. If one was a professional it
was assumed that one had the ability to choose whom one provided services
to, rather than being employed.
The problem for performers was then,
and continues to be, that though it requires long and hard study to
acquire the necessary skill and understanding in the first place,
and continual study and application thereafter, the judgement of whether
a performance is ‘good’, ‘very good’ or ‘not good enough’ remains
subjective. It is possible to test the level of technical proficiency
a player has achieved and whether they can play in time and with good
intonation, but no one has ever been engaged to play in an orchestra
or group of any kind on the strength of having received an ARCM, LRAM,
or any other examination from a college of music or exam board. Teachers
of music or any other subject can become qualified by passing the
required examination. The performer never can.
All performers have had this problem:
traditionally musicians, actors and dancers were never considered
members of a profession. By the middle of the nineteenth century musicians
had not yet established an association or union to distinguish themselves
from amateurs. Indeed they were more often than not referred to as
‘rogues and vagabonds’. Ladies and Gentlemen played music for pleasure,
they were amateurs: musicians played for money. It was also the case
that a number of Ladies and Gentlemen were better players and more
musical than many of those earning their living as musicians. Only
the outstanding touring international instrumentalists were held in
awe, though even they were not often accorded equality of status by
those they played to. On one occasion the great violinist Fritz Kreisler
had been invited to play for the guests of a very wealthy music lover
at a rather grand soiree. When Kreisler arrived the butler directed
him to a side room where he could change and prepare himself. ‘You
will not be required to dine with the guests’, the butler told him,
‘your meal will be served to you here.’ ‘That is fortunate’, Kreisler
replied, ‘otherwise my fee would have been much higher.’
Naturally the best musicians desired
more than anything else to be considered members of a profession and
attain the respectability and status then accorded to teachers, though
many teachers were, in fact, very indifferent performers. In chapter
15 I recounted how a colleague still had a problem in 1947 when trying
to convince his prospective father-in-law that as the principal trumpet
in the Royal Opera House Orchestra (then a full-time well paid engagement)
he did not require a ‘day-time’ job. The lack of any full-time engagements
for even the very finest musicians in Britain during the second half
of the 19th century and well into the 20th played a decisive role
in musicians playing in orchestras of any kind being granted only
a humble position in the social pecking order. In this respect the
situation for British musicians was much less satisfactory than in
many other countries where there had been opera houses employing musicians
all the year round, in some cases from the middle of the 19th century.
It was this more than anything that led to the ‘deputy system’ that
played the major part in making the creation of a first class symphony
orchestra such a difficult task for Sir Henry Wood and others until
the BBC Symphony Orchestra was formed in 1930.
Seeking Professional Identity
The attempts musicians made from about
1880 to attain respectability and a secure financial position increased
and led to the formation of several associations and unions. It is
interesting that by then composers, writers and painters had overcome
the problem of respectability and, if they were successful had attained
some financial stability. It seems that if one could produce an artefact,
something that could be bought and sold and for which a price could
be agreed, one was likely to be held in higher esteem than even the
greatest degree of skill and artistry could achieve.
Whenever I have written about the
‘music profession’ and the ‘professional musician’ I have used the
terms that are normal today to describe the profession and those who
earn their living as instrumental performers. However, in the 19th
century it was only those who taught music or were organists who were
considered professional musicians. In 1880, in his book The Musical
Profession, Dr Henry Fisher makes it quite clear that when he
writes about ‘professional musicians’ he is referring to music teachers.
In 1882 the Society of Professional
Musicians was formed, which in 1892 became the Incorporated Society
of Musicians (ISM). The ISM claimed to be ‘the only body of composing,
teaching and performing musicians’, though from the start its members
were mainly teachers and have continued to be so until now. Only a
few performing musicians, singers and instrumental soloists, very
often those for whom teaching is their principal activity, joined
this organisation. The source of the ISM membership has remained pretty
much the same throughout the years and its aim has consistently been
to obtain the best fees for their members. Respectability and opposition
to the ideas of trade unionism were and have remained extremely important.
By the middle of the 19th century
the growth of the manufacturing industries led more and more of the
population to leave the countryside for the towns and cities, with
the consequence that the need for popular public entertainment grew
enormously. The increasing number of music halls and theatres in particular
and the greater number of dances and other forms of entertainment
required many more musicians. In the same way that the coming of the
silent cinema in the early years of the following century was to bring
a great influx of musicians, a good many of modest accomplishment,
from the 1850s onwards the need for musicians provided a similar number
of relatively unskilled musicians with employment. The general standard
of performance that was tolerated at that time was extremely low.
It was not hard to find musicians who would accept the indifferent
working conditions and poor rates of pay that prevailed in the music
halls. Employment for the highly skilled musicians who played in the
orchestras for concerts, operas and oratorios was always unpredictable.
They were paid much better than their colleagues in the music halls,
but the concert season only lasted from September until April. With
the coming of the railways and much easier and quicker transport seaside
resorts began to prosper. The need for entertainment led to additional
employment for these musicians in the summer months on bandstands,
on the sea front and in parks.
How were musicians of such a diverse
standard, ranging from outstanding artists, highly skilled musicians
and many of quite a poor standard, as well as some who were only part-time
musicians, to become a profession? They were engaged to play so many
different kinds of music in such dissimilar venues – in music halls
providing the music needed by clowns, acrobats, singers and every
type of entertainer one can imagine; on bandstands playing everything
and anything from music hall songs to concert overtures; in theatres
where they might be called on to play musical comedies, operetta,
grand opera or only incidental music; and in the concert halls playing
marches, polkas, to accompany cornet and bassoon solos as well as
symphonies and concertos.
In 1893, a year after the Society
of Musicians had become the ISM, two groups of musicians each formed
an organisation with similar intentions to each other but with a very
different orientation: the London Orchestral Association (LOA), and
the Amalgamated Musicians Union (AMU).
The LOA, like the ISM was strongly
anti-union. It sought gentility and status and was keen to establish
that its members were in a profession, not a trade. Its headquarters
was in Archer Street in the west-end of London and was generally referred
to as ‘the Club’, because this is where musicians would go between
a matinee and an evening performance in the many theatres nearby,
or to find a deputy, or just to meet friends and colleagues. In the
main meeting room there was a bar where tea, coffee and snacks could
be bought. It also had a licence to sell alcohol which attracted a
good deal more custom in the first decades of the 20th century when
many musicians, particularly woodwind, brass and percussion players,
were quite heavy drinkers. Downstairs there were washing facilities
and changing rooms. On the walls there were racks where members requiring
a deputy could leave a request, perhaps, ‘Joe Bloggs needs 2nd clarinet
for evening performance, Tuesday 23rd, 7.30 Her Majesties (Bb and
A)’.
From the beginning of the 20th century
and well into the 1920s and 30s most musicians who worked in the London
theatres, restaurants and the orchestras had been members of the LOA
but by the time I joined in 1942 it had become rather seedy. In the
ordinary way, if my father had not suggested that I should, a young
musician like myself would no longer have joined the LOA – it was
just before I joined the LPO and I was by then already a member of
the MU, as were all other musicians (including members of the LOA).
In 1942 it was virtually only ‘theatre musicians’ who still went to
the LOA. Very few of them ever played in either the symphony orchestras
or the many small orchestras and ensembles that broadcast. Nor did
they get the opportunity to play on recording and film sessions, which
were the best-paid engagements. On the few occasions I went there
I sensed a general atmosphere of envy and an undercurrent of discontent.
The following year I did not renew my membership.
When the new ‘jazz’ music began to
arrive from America, from about 1910 onwards, those musicians in London
who started to play this music tried to join the LOA. Their applications
were rejected because they were regarded as upstarts, not ‘proper’
musicians and were held in contempt by the members who felt that they
would tarnish their own ‘professional’ aspirations, historically so
important to them. Even in 1920 when everyone was dancing to the new
dance music and Dance Bands were everywhere they continued to refuse
membership to them. Undeterred by rejection the new jazz and dance
musicians decided to meet outside in Archer Street itself. If you
went to Archer Street on any day, especially on a Monday afternoon
until the mid-1950s, you would find the whole street full of musicians.
But then another group of ‘upstarts’ appeared on the scene – this
time it was the pop groups.
I remember that in the 1940s whenever
I had occasion to go to an instrument repair shop that was in Archer
Street it would always be full of saxophone/clarinet, trumpet, trombone
and double bass players, guitarists and drummers. There were also
some string players, mainly violinists. They had taken up the saxophone
and found lucrative employment in the restaurants and night clubs.
When, the patrons were having supper there would be quiet music, played
by a quintet in which they would play the violin and then, when the
dancing started, they would join the band, probably as second alto
sax. Archer Street is where anyone would go if they wanted to book
musicians for a ‘gig’, or to play on the big liners, which all employed
musicians to play at meal times and for dancing, or for the summer
seasons in the Holiday Camps. It was also where musicians would congregate
to exchange gossip and find out what was going on.
In contrast to the LOA the Amalgamated
Musicians Union’s attitude was similar to other trade unions. Its
primary objective was to obtain the best possible working conditions
and pay for whatever employment its members undertook wherever that
might be. When necessary it would use the same tactics and methods
of persuasion as other trade unions: strikes, picketing and protest
marches. The LOA did attempt to improve working conditions and rates
of pay for its members but was unwilling to consider that they were
‘workers’. As a result they never squared up to their employers forcefully
enough to be really effective.
The AMU sought to set minimum rates
for musicians playing in symphony orchestras, in theatres and music
halls and when playing for dances. Later it negotiated with employers
to include every area in which musicians were engaged. It accepted
anyone without regard to their ability as long as they agreed not
to work with non-AMU members and never to accept an engagement below
the AMU minimum rate. It made no distinction between professional
and amateur on the basis that anyone receiving payment for their employment
as a musician was by definition a professional in contrast to amateurs
who played for their own pleasure.
In 1894 and 1907 the AMU initiated
negotiations with the LOA in an attempt to join forces but without
success. By 1921 the AMU’s membership had outgrown that of the LOA
(which for a time assumed the title National Orchestral Union of Professional
Musicians) to such an extent that at last the LOA agreed to join forces
with the AMU, thereby creating the Musicians’ Union (MU), the organisation
that thereafter all professional musicians were obliged to join until
Mrs Thatcher’s government made the ‘closed shop’, which had been the
union’s power base, illegal.
When the LOA was absorbed into the
MU it retained its premises in Archer Street for another 40 years.
At first a good many of its members who were working in the west-end
theatres remained members, finding its club facilities very convenient.
Gradually the LOA membership began to decline, though it continued
to be very self-protective and exerted considerable influence within
the London Branch of the Musicians Union where they dominated the
Branch Committee well into the 1950s.
When I was taken to the MU offices
in 1942 I was completely unaware of the Union’s existence and at no
time while I was in the Wessex Orchestra did anyone ask me if I was
a member. In fact the fees that the orchestra were paid, I was to
learn later, were all well below the MU minimum. During the following
38 years I can only recall having been asked to show my MU card once.
If you were playing in any of the symphony orchestras or the many
light orchestras that broadcast it was taken for granted that you
were a union member and it was the same in the west-end theatres and
for those playing for recording, films or TV, whether for the BBC
or for one of the commercial stations. None of these musicians would
have considered playing for under the MU minimum rate. However, there
were other areas of employment where musicians who were finding it
difficult to make a living would at times be prepared to do so. As
might be expected, some unscrupulous employers took advantage of this
to save money.
On one occasion in the 1960s I was
asked to be an expert witness when the MU had taken one of these employers
to Court for the way he had treated one of their members. This case
concerned a drummer who had been contracted for six weeks by a suburban
theatre, a former music hall in one of the less up-market areas of
London, to play for a Christmas pantomime. As was quite normal at
that time it was an exclusive contract, which meant that one could
not be absent from any performance: no deputies were allowed. In addition
he was required to agree that in the period preceding the first performance
he would be available for rehearsal at any time.
Because six weeks’ continuous work
at that time of year was much sought after some employers would save
money by insisting that during the week or so of rehearsals preceding
the first performance the musicians must make themselves available
at any time throughout the day.
Normally there would only be a limited
number of three-hour rehearsals during a week, usually eight, for
which the appropriate fees would be paid. Unfortunately at that time
those engaged on stage still ‘sailed before the mast’ and unlimited
rehearsals, sometimes going on for perhaps four or five hours, were
not unusual. For many years, for musicians, a three-hour rehearsal
meant three hours. This was understood and adhered to by all respectable
managements.
When this particular musician accepted
the pantomime season he told his employers that on one of the rehearsal
days he had already taken an engagement starting at seven o’clock
in the evening and would be unable to be available after six o’clock.
They told him they were sure there would be no problem. But when the
day came and they were half way through the afternoon rehearsal it
became clear to him that it was likely to continue beyond six o’clock.
In a break in the rehearsal he phoned several other drummers to see
if he could find someone to cover for him after six. No one was free
or could get there in time, so at six o’clock, making his apologies
he left. The next morning when he arrived for rehearsal he found that
his drum kit had been put out on the street, outside the stage door,
and that someone else had been engaged in his place.
In Court the employer’s solicitor
argued that it was normal practice in the theatre for rehearsals to
go on as long as necessary and that this musician had accepted the
job knowing what the conditions were and had broken his contract and
let his employers down. When I was called I explained to the magistrate
that I had been in the profession for over twenty years and that this
had never been the case for musicians. Wherever a musician was engaged
for a rehearsal in any kind of orchestra it was understood that it
was for three hours. If more time was required it was the employer’s
obligation to ask the orchestra if they could continue beyond the
three hours, and if they all agreed to pay for the extra time. However,
what was even more important was the principle that no one was obliged
to remain. There were agreements in every area of musical employment
between employers and the Musicians’ Union. They all stated that the
fee was for a certain length of time – whether for recording and film
sessions, broadcasts, theatrical performances and dances. I suggested
that this employer had broken this agreement and had taken advantage
of musicians so in need of work that they too had been willing to
break the agreement and betray their colleagues. It was judged that
the employer had to pay the aggrieved drummer for the whole six weeks
and pay the MU’s costs.
In the past it was commonplace for
all sorts of malpractice to take place in the employment of musicians
and over the years when I was elected to various committees I was
involved on numerous occasions in pursuing cases where musicians had
been defrauded of moneys to which they were entitled. Quite frequently
it was musicians, themselves members of the union, who were the worst
offenders. Very often free-lance musicians – only those in the contract
orchestras – the BBC orchestras, the Regional orchestras and opera
house orchestras were not – are engaged by ‘fixers’, themselves musicians.
Now, in these politically correct times they are called contractors
– though still within the profession referred to by their traditional
name. Because they understand their colleagues better than those who
are not musicians themselves they know what they are more likely to
get away with; non-payment of repeat fees (the additional fee paid
when a radio or TV programme is broadcast again), payment for ‘doubling’
(when more than one instrument is played, clarinet and saxophone or
flute and piccolo, for example), and numerous other arcane additional
payments.
The MU when it was first established
was seen by members of the ISM and the LOA as an organisation concerned
with ‘workers’ and because it was a trade union they were wholly opposed
to it. However, by outlawing many of the practices that had contributed
to their lowly status, in time the MU enabled musicians to achieve
the conditions that led to them gaining professional status.
The Effect of Broadcasting and
Recording
Before broadcasting and recording
whenever there was a greater need for music, for example when there
was an increase in the number of music halls and dances and later
with the arrival of the ‘silent’ films, more musicians would be required.
During my lifetime the opposite has been the case. As more people
have listened to music the number of musicians has declined. The loss
of employment for musicians has come from the increased use of records
wherever employers have found it cheaper: mainly in broadcasting but
also in restaurants, at dances and, whenever possible, to accompany
theatrical entertainment. The invention of the tape recorder and subsequent
developments have made it even easier for everyone to record ‘off-air’,
from commercial tapes and CDs. More recently downloading music from
the Internet in various ways is again reducing the need for ‘live’
musicians.
The use of electronic instruments
has been another method of reducing the number of musicians required.
The Lyons chain of cafes which in 1939 was employing 500 full-time
musicians when the BBC was still only employing 400 (though to be
accurate they were employing many more for occasional broadcasts),
was one of the first to make use of the electric organ to replace
the orchestras in one of their Corner Houses. When I interviewed Ena
Baga, a very famous organist for more than fifty years, she told me
how she had been invited by one of the directors of Lyons to replace
the orchestra at their Tottenham Court Road Corner House restaurant
by playing the Hammond Organ. This was an electronic organ that could
simulate the sound of most of the instruments of the orchestra. She
told me how she had been an MU member all her life but had no problem
in accepting the job. Each time she arrived at the stage door she
had to run the gauntlet of the members of the displaced orchestras
(also MU members) but suffered nothing worse than some fairly friendly
banter. Later, and much more effectively, the synthesiser has replaced
musicians in every field of music.
The use of recorded music in broadcasting
began the erosion of employment opportunities for musicians that continued
throughout the second half of the 20th century. From the 1960s the BBC
was
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constantly seeking to increase ‘needle-time’ and reduce
the number of musicians they were required to employ. The use of the
phrase ‘needle-time’ shows how long ago this agreement was made and
was in operation (until 1967 the Phonographic Performance Ltd. (PPL)
only allowed the BBC to play commercial gramophone records on air for
5 hours a day). This old fashioned term refers to the days, now almost
forgotten, when we played ‘78’ gramophone records and were forever changing
the little steel needles that ran in the grooves of the record. The
‘needle-time’ agreement the BBC had come to with PPL, and as a result
the MU, limited the number of hours during which records could be broadcast
and guaranteed that an agreed number of musicians would be employed
full-time in the BBC orchestras. It also guaranteed that a declared
number of free-lance musicians would be employed each year, those musicians
employed in the numerous free-lance groups to broadcast , and for solo
and chamber music engagements.
There are now many more radio stations
broadcasting music in Britain than there were in 1960, but virtually
always from commercial recordings. The exception is Radio 3, which,
though it too plays many commercial recordings, does broadcast studio
recordings of its own orchestras and relays of their public performances
and those of other orchestras
Pirate, Commercial and Local
Radio
The use of radio, or telephones as
they were called in the very earliest days goes back much further
than is generally known. In 1881 a Telephone Listening Room was set
up at the Paris Electrical Exhibition. By holding a telephone receiver
to each ear one could here a performance from the Paris Opera. There
were a number of listening points and listeners were only allowed
a few minutes each before making way for those queuing up for an opportunity
to hear what was going on at the opera. The microphones had been set
up right across the stage in the footlights and linked in pairs. Because
each listener held a receiver to each ear it was possible at a very
early date for the listeners to hear the music in stereo.
In America in 1890 the concern was
already that music would become available ‘on tap’ and that before
long it would ‘make incipient deafness bliss’. From 1900 onwards more
and more enthusiasts, amateur and professional were experimenting
with broadcasting in Britain and America. It was not too long before
the commercial possibilities became apparent and though at first this
was at a local level, the explosion of commercial radio stations in
the USA, which began in 1922, depended on the stations being supported
by the major advertisers and the use of the old 78 rpm black shellac
gramophone records. Broadcasting in the USA has remained essentially
commercial ever since.
In Britain broadcasting took a different
route. In 1922 the British Broadcasting Company was formed by a group
of wireless manufacturers including Marconi, with John Reith as general
manager. The government decided in 1927 to establish the British Broadcasting
Corporation (BBC) as a broadcasting monopoly to be operated by a board
of governors with John Reith (later Sir John) as the Director General.
The BBC was funded by a licence fee to be paid by all owners of radio
sets, the amount to be decided by Parliament. In this way the BBC
became the first public-service broadcasting organisation. In contrast
to the USA advertising on radio was forbidden. Reith set himself a
mission – to educate and improve the public through the programmes
the BBC transmitted. His influence on broadcasting in Britain was
to be profound and remained long after he left the BBC in 1938. Indeed
until the present his dictum to ‘inform, educate and entertain’ remains
a part of the BBC’s brief.
His influence was to have a considerable
effect on how the BBC responded to the sounds of rhythm and blues
and rock’n’roll in the mid and late 1950s. It continued to broadcast
programmes that ignored this new music, the music most young people
wanted the chance to hear. In 1958 responding to this need, in Britain
and on mainland Europe, pirate stations broadcasting recordings of
this new music were set up on ships moored off the coasts of Denmark
and Sweden. In 1960 a station off the Dutch coast claimed 5 million
listeners. These stations catered for the new ‘beat’ generation that
the national radio stations continued to ignore. The opportunity for
most young people to hear the music they really enjoyed was on Jukeboxes
and Radio Luxembourg.
For some time there had been demands
that commercial radio, stations similar to those that had been in
America for more than 30 years, should be allowed in Britain. By 1960
the pressure on the government to issue licences for commercial radio
increased. The main recording companies –
Decca, EMI and Philips and others
– were paying a large amount to Radio Luxembourg for broadcasting
short extracts from the recordings they were issuing.
A number of small off-shore pirate
radio stations had already been set up when in March 1964 Radio Caroline
started broadcasting from a ship moored 5 miles off Harwich. Three
weeks later they claimed an audience of over 7 million. They were
followed by Radio Atlanta, Noorzec Invicta and Radio London, which
was largely financed by a consortium of Texan oil moguls. These stations
were all financed by extensive advertising.
One of the biggest advertisers on
Radio London was Recketts one of whose products was Beechams Powders.
The Beecham Company was continuing its enthusiasm for advertising
of every kind started by Sir Thomas’s grandfather. I have one of the
series of 12 Beecham’s Music Portfolios published at least a hundred
years ago. It is beautifully bound in red leatherette with gold lettering
on the cover and contains 120 well known songs and piano pieces, including
Rubinstein’s Melody in F, The Dead March in Saul by Handel
as well as Little Brown Jug, Peggy Malloy and Down
Among the Dead Men. Scattered amongst the works of Chopin, Haydn,
Johann Strauss, Beethoven, Mozart are pithy statements such as ‘Health
is wealth and BEECHAM’S PILLS are the Key to it!’ ‘CHEER UP! BEECHAM’S
PILLS are still worth a Guinea a Box and make life worth living!’,
‘Guard Yourself, and save the constitution by taking BEECHAM’S PILLS
– The National Medicine.’ My favourites are when an extra verse has
been added as in Where are you going my Pretty Maid?’
‘Then take BEECHAM’S PILLS, my pretty
maid,
Then take BEECHAM’S PILLS, my pretty maid,’
‘I take them already, sir,’ she said,
‘I take them already, sir,’ she said.
and in Oft, in the Stilly Night with
the addition,
‘Oft in the
Stilly Night’
I awake, and take some BEECHAM’S PILLS
Even rarer and a treasured possession
is a single sheet of toilet paper, in pristine condition, with the
legend:
FOR PERFECT HEALTH
THE NATURAL WAY
TAKE
BEECHAM’S PILLS
WORTH A GUINEA A BOX
Although in 1965 the Council of Europe
had banned broadcasting from the pirate stations as well as any supplies
to them of materials and equipment, in 1966 a National Opinion poll
showed that Radio Luxembourg and Radio Caroline were each attracting
audiences of nearly 9 million and Radio London over 8 million. Several
others had audiences of more than 2 million each. All the stations
played commercial recordings, which itself was illegal, supplied by
all the major record companies, and were funded by the considerable
revenue from the advertisers. Apart from any questions of legality
the beaming of broadcasts to the mainland was interfering with the
legitimate signalling of marine traffic. In the same year the UK government
made it illegal to broadcast from ships or marine structures. Contravening
the law could lead to two years imprisonment, a fine or both. The
pirates responded by asking their listeners to write to their MPs
demanding that they be allowed to hear the music the BBC were not
broadcasting. In the discussions I later took part in as a representative
of the MU ,with the Postmaster General and some of his colleagues
in the Conservative government, I learned that this was the largest
post-bag MPs had ever received on any issue.
It was decided that the MU should
meet the representatives of the BBC to see if it could be agreed that
the air-time during which the BBC would be allowed to broadcast commercial
recordings could be substantially increased. The meeting we had with
the Board of the BBC went on for a very long time during which we
were wined and dined. I was amused by the fact that now, as someone
involved in demanding something in return for allowing the BBC to
comply with the government’s wishes, I was being treated to a first-class
meal accompanied by excellent wines. I was also being treated with
a civility I had never experienced in their canteen at Maida Vale
whenever over many years I had played in their studios (and as I was
still doing), whether in an orchestra, a chamber music ensemble or
as a soloist. In return for agreeing increased air-time for a new
channel, Radio 1, which would play commercial recordings similar to
those broadcast by the pirates, the BBC agreed to guarantee additional
employment for the musicians they employed other than in their contract
orchestras. They also agreed to establish the BBC Training Orchestra,
an orchestra for those who had finished their course at music college
or university and wished to become orchestral musicians. Unknown to
me at the time, the Training Orchestra was to be the precursor of
something that would be very important for me some years later.
In December 1966 the BBC announced
its new plans and the following September the Home Service became
Radio 4, the Third Programme, established in 1946, became Radio 3
and the Light Programme was renamed Radio 2. The new programme Radio
1 was to be devoted to the music for which there was such a demand.
Of the 33 disc jockeys employed by the BBC more than half were ex-pirates.
I remember meeting Pete Murray, one of the ‘big 4’ DJs at the time.
We had been at St. Paul’s School together many years previously and
he had been to concerts and seen me. Being a ‘square’ who never listened
to Radio 1 I was quite unaware of the fact that he was a well-known
figure and asked him innocently ‘And what are you doing now?’ With
extreme modesty he said that the was doing a bit of broadcasting’.
My young daughter who was with me later shamed me. ‘Oh. Dear! You
are old. Don’t you know that was the famous Pete Murray who broadcasts
all the time?’
As well as Radio 1 the BBC set up
several low powered local radio stations and in 1969 the government
licensed a further 12 local radio stations. In 1973 the government
finally allowed a replacement of the service the pirates had provided
and what those who for so long had wanted –
commercial radio in Britain. Now,
what the pirate stations had been doing had become legal. To some
extent this is what the pirate stations had really been all about.
They provided the means by which the advertisers and record companies
who long before the new music had arrived wanted: to establish commercial
radio in Britain. They had achieved their objective and could from
then on benefit from the enormous financial advantage commercial broadcasting
secured.
The battle against commercial TV had
been lost in 1954 when the Independent Television Authority had been
set up and a year later the ITV service began. By 1965 when regional
franchises had been granted the whole country could receive commercial
TV. When, in 1973 the government allowed commercial radio, as well
as TV, the BBC was faced with competition that has had a significant
effect on public service broadcasting. The gain, for a small number
of musicians, was the very well paid work involved in recording the
‘jingles’, the music especially written to accompany the advertisements.
Was the long and hard-fought battle
against commercial radio that the MU and its members waged, in part
by their support of the BBC and public service broadcasting, worthwhile?
There can be no doubt that for musicians such as myself it put off
the evil day for a good many years. Since 1973 the amount of work
for musicians in broadcasting on radio and TV has substantially reduced.
I regret that musicians could earn very much more by providing the
music for an advert for washing powder, for either radio or TV, than
by playing Beethoven or Boulez in the Royal Festival Hall.
Chapter
21
