Free The Love You Make by Peter Brown Page A

solo. Eventually, before anybody really noticed what was happening, he became a member of the group. Besides, Louise Harrison gave them shelter and food.
    John, Paul, George, Stu, and Cynthia would meet almost every day at the Jac or in the school cafeteria. Cynthia would sit on a bench nearby and listen while the boys played. They didn’t seem much different from the other kids in the busy school, and nobody took special notice of them.

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    The previous spring Elvis Presley had been inducted into the United States Armed Forces and throughout the world an army of young boys dreamed of taking his place. Hundreds of rock groups were being formed all over England, and in Liverpool every neighborhood seemed to have one. There was no lack of places to play, either. Every church hall, ballroom, town hall, and skating rink where a stage could be erected and admission charged was holding a weekend dance. There were so many groups in Liverpool that a student at the Liverpool Art College named Bill Harry—who coincidentally introduced Stu Sutcliffe to John Lennon—began taking notes on who was in what group and where they were playing and eventually started his own music paper, the Mersey Beat. Some groups didn’t last more than a week or two, others came to prominence in their neighborhoods and developed loyal followings, and then went on to fight for citywide acceptance. Johnny and the Moondogs was not one of these.
    The most famous Liverpool band was Rory Storm and the Hurricanes. Rory was a tall, athletic boy with beautifully coiffed blond hair. Dashingly handsome, he had a pronounced stutter when he spoke but not when he sang rock and roll. He was considered the most dramatic and flamboyant of all the lead singers, and the highlight of his act often included his shimmying acrobatically up the fluted columns that held up the balconies and prosceniums. Next in popularity was Cass and the Casanovas, noted for their loud drummer with a silver-glitter drum kit. Following them was Derry and the Seniors, who specialized in rhythm and blues and had a black singer. Then came Gordon Bell and the Bobby Bell Rockers, Faron and the Flamingos, the Swinging Blue Jeans, Lee Curtis and the All Stars, and on and on and on. Some groups were fortunate enough to land steady jobs at local auditoriums. Other groups had to scramble each week for employment. As the Jacaranda became the vortex of the late-night band scene, Allan Williams got to know the whole spectrum of groups as they passed through the doors. It struck him that there was a potential gold mine somewhere in that plethora of what was being called “pop” music, and he started a booking business. As a sort of a clearing house for groups, he got them jobs at £10 a night. From this, Williams was paid £1 and £1 went to the local bouncer. Johnny and the Moondogs quickly agreed to his services.
    Williams had made the acquaintance of a well-known London manager and promoter named Larry Parnes. The mere mention of Larry Parnes’ name summoned up visions of stardom for the multitude of Liverpool groups. Parnes was famous for discovering Tommy Steele, one of Britain’s major teen singing stars, whom he had found singing in a coffee bar on Old Compton Road in London. Since Tommy Steele, Parnes had “discovered” a whole stable of young men, christening each with a distinctive name: Marty Wilde, Dickie Pride, Billy Fury, and Johnny Gentle.
    While none of Parnes’ other acts reached the level of stardom of Tommy Steele, they all had recording contracts and worked regularly on a profitable touring circuit of dance halls in small towns around the countryside. Williams had assured Parnes that Liverpool was an untapped lode for pop groups, all of them tailor-made to go on tour with his name acts, eager and reasonably priced. Within a few weeks Williams had won an audition for an assortment of the better known Liverpool groups to go on tour with Billy Fury, among them his personal favorites,