My Initiation
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My Initiation
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My hair was already cropped and I was a regular attendee at football grounds when I first heard about 'Tamla Motown' or 'skinhead music' as my hairy classmates liked to call it. I was probably about fourteen at the time and a pupil at 'Church Road Secondary Modern' in Thornton Cleveleys Nr. Blackpool. Each week we used to have 'Brains Trusts' in our English lessons in which the class selected a panel of experts to discuss any issue which they wished to raise. One particular week one of the hairies asked the panel whether they thought the 'new' skinhead music all sounded the same. As a matter of principle I defended it to the hilt, which was pretty tricky given that I'd never even heard it. Afterwards I decided that I would have to sample it for myself by going to 'The Gallopers', a very rough and seedy night-spot where all the skins hung out. There aren't many advantages to having a Cossack Dad, particularly one with pre-revolutionary ideals, but for once the fact he was totally out of touch with British Culture worked to my advantage. When I asked my mum if I could go to such a den of iniquity I was given a flat refusal. My dad on the other hand was quite proud that his boy was growing up and equated my request with a sort of 'coming of age'. The problem was that his view of what 'The Gallopers' would be like was slightly different to reality. His vision was lots of girls in pretty dresses with whom I would waltz away the night to the dulcet tones of an accordion band. It was with this vision in mind that he made the proviso that I must learn to dance 'properly' first. Before I knew it I had been enrolled in an old time dance academy in Fleetwood. How I did it I'll never know but somehow I persuaded my best pal, David Cassidy to go along with me. Needless to say our weekly assignations were not something we wanted our schoolmates to find out about, so we were always careful not to get spotted. We'd arrive at the tramstop two minutes before the tram was due and furtively check that there was nobody around who knew us. We'd sit at the back of the tram hiding behind a magazine before disembarking at our destination with equal caution. The Dance Academy was even worse than I had imagined. Not only were we the only males there, but at 14 we were by far the youngest. The nearest 'youngster' must have been sixty if they were a day. What the 'old dears' thought about two shaven headed youths in Doc Martens trampling all over their toes I can only imagine, but whatever it was they kept it to themselves. Eight weeks later the ordeal was over and I returned home clutching my certificate of completion. My dad kept his side of the bargain and the following Saturday he slipped me a fiver as I made my way to the Gallopers resplendent in Ben Sherman and Sta-Press. Despite the fact I was now an accomplished dancer I refrained from displaying my skills, but simply enjoyed my first experience of Soul Music. And was it worth it? I should say so. Soul became a passion which has remained with me to this day.
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Why Not visit the Authors other Website, 'The Alternative Blackpool Website' at http://www.localdial.com/users/jsyedu133/bpool This Site Last Updated 18/05/05
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