Weary City Stompers
contributed by Pete Clemons
Written by Paul Barnes 2012 for the Coventry Telegraph.
The following is an article from November 2012. It came about from an article I wrote about the Mercer's Arms. It brought back memories for jazz musician PAUL BARNES who played trumpet at the pub in the 1950s as a member of two of the bands........
WHEN I heard that they were knocking the Mercer's Arms down indignation overtook me.
Far from demolishing this historic pub it should have been listed and protected, with a blue plaque attached by way of a salute to those who made music there. Including me.
I played trumpet in the Weary City Stompers, a Dixie-style band formed about 1957. Three of us were from the art college in Cope Street. Graham Slann was the trombonist and leader. He could emulate the great Slusher Treadwell, performing the useful trick of playing his instrument and speaking at the same time, giving musical guidance to the rest of us in the band. "Don't forget the G seventh," he would mutter out of the side of his mouthpiece, and none of us ever did.
On piano was Bob Hayward, who taught graphics, a man of few words but enough notes. The others in the band were "civilians". The clarinetist was Jack Ashby who in later years became an authority on Coventry's pubs, even writing a short history. Dapper Brian Thompson played a mean banjo, Jeff Routen was the drummer and Chris Holt plucked the bass. Now there was devotion. Chris, knowing that we needed a bass player, went and bought one and learned to play from scratch, taking the view that bum notes would go unnoticed because the rest of the band was loud enough to drown them.
I got the sack from the WC Stompers eventually because my playing was tainted by what
was construed as "modernism".
I was absorbing the music of such as Count Basie, Duke Ellington and Woody Herman.
I found kindred spirits, enough to form a nine-piece band, which played at the Mercer's and also at the Queen's in Primrose Hill Street. We called it the Idaho, that being the title of our theme tune. There were two trumpets, trombone, tenor and alto saxophones, piano, guitar, bass and drums.
To the amazement of audiences we actually read music! Malcolm Francis, the pianist, wrote some nifty arrangements that gave us an agreeable sound. Jock Falloon was the other trumpet, and his brother Rab played guitar; Bob Caldwell was the alto player, Arthur "Arpeggio Art" Griffiths was on tenor. Alas, I can't recall the names of the trombonist and drummer.
We played more for love than for money, though we did make a few pennies from the takings on the door. And there was extra to be made from playing as the supporting band for various visitors to the Mercer's, such as the Jazz Messengers, gigs promoted by Harry Flick who lived on Kenpas Highway.
My own musical income got a boost when the landlord of the Mercer's asked me to teach his son how to play the trumpet, which was rather flattering. I've still got an acetate recording of that band playing Idaho and Take the A Train. On the evidence it had a certain unpolished zest, and we were clearly enjoying ourselves paying homage to our heroes: Miles Davis, Clifford Brown, Buck Clayton, Johnny Hodges, Ben Webster, and so on.
I was so immersed in playing and listening that I was summoned to the office of Hugh Hosking, principal of the art college. He was concerned at the potential neglect of my art studies. "You must choose," he said, "between your wife and your mistress." I considered the ultimatum.
"What's wrong with having both?" In 1960 I left Coventry for London to take a job in advertising, then as a film director, ultimately as a writer and broadcaster. I played trumpet for a while, until it gave me up. But then I took up the tenor sax, reckoned to be the musical equivalent of the E-type Jaguar when it came to impressing girls. "Ooooh, I love a saxophone!" Norfolk is home now, and I'm still playing jazz: other people's, presiding over a weekly two-hour jazz programme, eleven o'clock Saturday nights on seven BBC radio stations across East Anglia, and worldwide on the iPlayer. You may remember me. In any event, do join me. Your company will be welcome.
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Additional material
From BBC Radio Northampton
Paul Barnes
Born July, 1939 in Coventry - Paul took up the trumpet at the age of 11. The neighbours were so enchanted by his repeat playing of My Bonny Lies Over The Ocean, they slammed doors and windows in rhythmic encouragement.
There was no TV when Paul was growing up, but he enjoyed listening to Children's Hour on the radio.
His early affair with the trumpet served him well as Paul played in art school jazz band, The Weary City Stompers - WC for short.
His first job was as an assistant in a photographic shop, but the media soon called as Paul grew up to enjoy a life working in publishing, advertising, documentary films, radio and television.
That job in the photographic shop did earn him enough money though to buy his first car, a 1933 Austin Seven.
All-rounder
Paul has worked on Radios 1, 2, 3 and 4, in addition to the BBC World Service and BBC Local Radio for the Eastern Counties - he was also the first reporter on Radio 1's Newsbeat. TV credits include The Village Show, Anything Goes and Folio, all for Anglia.
Paul also worked for Granada, Central and BBC TV and has written for many newspapers including the Observer, the Guardian, Punch and various regional papers.
These days he claims that there are too many films, TV shows and songs for him to pick a favourite, but he does draw the line somewhere – the worst present he ever received was a Celine Dion CD.
Perhaps this underlines his worst habit – candour!
Romance
A romantic at heart, Paul's favourite colour is the pearly blue of a dawn sky - although he claims he's still waiting for his first snog!
An easy man to please, Paul's his favourite place in the world is anywhere without mobile phones.
Obviously very fit, Paul reveals his favourite meal is sea food and that he always takes the stairs!
Fact file
Starsign: Leo
Grew up in: Coventry
Favourite things
There are too many rich and wonderful elements, so it’s impossible to single out one in any category, including best and worst moments on air (I have been in this business for 38 years!) Photo of Paul (above) by Wesley Duke.
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