EDITORIAL
Nothing is more odious than the majority, for it consists of a few powerful leaders, a certain number of accommodating scoundrels and submissive weaklings, and a mass of men who trudge after them without thinking, or knowing their own minds: — Goethe (Letters)
Flannel Panel Publisher Graham Frost Editor-in-Chief Francisco Ferrer i Guardia Production Editor Brian Frost Illustrators Lesley Prince, Richard Warren Photographer Graham Frost Contributors M.A.D., Ellen Eyewater, Graham Frost, Craig Lappin, Kate Lingard, George Melly, Pauline Melville, Brian Morton, Dennis Moon, Ted Newcomen, Michael Occleshaw, Steve Peak, Donovan Pedelty, Jenny Ridd
It’s that time of year again when, as in the past, we reflect on the events of the past months and slaughter those beasts we can no longer afford, to provide our yuletide feasts. Of course there are some beasts we are loathe to ‘do away with’, the ‘regeneration beast’, the artistic beast, the turgid poetry and literary beasts and all the other nonsense that passes for culture in this town. Yet we are equally loathe to ensure the survival of all that made and makes this town unique, the pier, the fishing fleet and beach, marine court, the underground baths, the electric trolley bus service, and the small shops.Take a look at St. Mary in the Castle with its infrequent and poorlyattended events and then look at the Deluxe Bingo palace next door, welcoming entertaining and packed with every age gender and socioeconomic group there is. Oh, and one contributes to the public purses whilst the other drains it. Pip Pip
Published by Boulevard Books, 32 George St. Hastings TN34 3EA ✆ +44 (0)1424 436521 www.thehastingstrawler.co.uk editor@thehastingstrawler.co.uk Annual subscription £36.00 (UK) £46.00 (airmail RoW) Cover artwork Hastings © John Huldrick www.huldrick.com
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Graham Frost, Publisher photocopied, reproduced or retransmitted without prior written authorization from Boulevard Books.
From: The Nabara Freedom is more than a word, more than the base coinage Of statesmen, the tyrant's dishonoured cheque, or the dreamer's mad inflated currency. She is mortal, we know, and made in the image of simple men who have no taste for carnage But sooner kill and are killed than see that image betrayed. Mortal she is, yet rising always refreshed from her ashes: She is bound to earth, yet she flies as high as a passage bird To home wherever man's heart with seasonal warmth is stirred: Innocent is her touch as the dawn's, but still it unleashes The ravisher shades of envy. Freedom is more than a word. C. DAY-LEWIS (1904-1972)
www.tvhastings.org Hastings’ own (free) global-local internet tv channel Serving the community — and local democracy
IN THIS ISSUE December 2006, Vol II, Issue 9 ISSN 1745-3321
THE TALK OF THE OLD (AND NEW) TOWN A public arena for news, views, gossip and tittle-tattle about goings-on in Hastings, St Leonards-and far beyond. 2 LETTER FROM AMERICA: Our own one-man Greek chorus, the inimitable Ted Newcomen, updates us on the pros and cons of post-Hastings life in New England 3-4 GOODBYE TO ALL THAT: Craig Lappin considers the consequences for Hastings should it continue to attract jaded middle-class Londoners 5-6 DANCING THE SKIES: Kate Lingard speaks to Hastings’ BMX star Sebastian ‘Bas’ Keep about his success and his prospects for the Beijing Olympics 7-8 PIER-LESS HASTINGS: Steve Peak concludes his history of Hastings Pier with a look at the years 1939-20069-13 THE COLONEL FROM BEXHILL: Local historian and author looks at the extraordinary clandestine life of British Secret Service officer, Colonel Terence Keyes, from Bexhill 14-18 DREDGING: Ellen Eyewater ruminates on the extent to which her formerly rich social life has gone downhill since her last column 19 JUGGLER OF HARMONY: Brian Mortin profiles Bobby Wellins, one of Britain’s top tenor saxophonists, 20-21 HISTORIC HASTINGS: Georgian lithographer George Wooll was one of the first printmakers to promote Hastings as a fashionable resort. Jenny Ridd traces his local connections 22-24 REFLECTIONS: Jazz singer and surrealist aficionado George Melly looks back on his Hastings’ gigs and his long friendship with local artists John Banting and Edward Burra 25-26 TABLE TALK: M.A.D., our mystery gastronome, continues her critical tour of local food suppliers, bars and caffs 26 FICTION: ‘The Man on the Donkey’ by Pauline Melville. 28-29 BOOK Reviews: LETTERS TO THE EDITOR December ‘06 | THE TRAWLER
30-31 32 1
FORUM
THE
TRAWLER THE TALK OF THE OLD (AND NEW) TOWN Hall of Shame
BREATH OF INCOMPETENCE? ‘An’ what’s the chance o’ millions when you runs a trevellin’ show....’ (Roundabouts and Swings, Patrick R. Chalmers) n 2002/3 Hastings Borough (Banana) Council raised £1,605,000 through Council Tax for the planned Pelham Boulevard Area and St. Mary in the Castle. How can this have been legal when HBC had no authority to raise taxes for road works — the responsible body appointed by Parliament being East Sussex County Council? When the plans for the boulevard went down the pan, the Borough Council proceeded to spend the money. Where has it gone? Could it be to pay consultants’ fees, on the equally ill-fated ‘Slug’? Evidently, the money, raised dubiously, was — to put it mildly — squandered. Dennis Moon, soon to be a Conservative councillor, raised objections and questions over waste, but felt unsupported by his fellow councillors. An Annual Look at HBC Council Tax Demands show an increase in staffing levels. Until the fiscal year 2000/2001 they never listed their capital spending plans, but from this date onwards they began to list many items for which they had no responsibility: highways, promenade, Pelham Arcade and Boulevard, traffic management projects, traffic schemes and police matters, to name but a few. Just what do Hastings taxpayers have to do to ensure value for money and the integrity of local democracy when HBC usurp the responsibilities assigned by Parliament to the County Council and the Police Authority? Just how many times do the public have to pay for
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THE TRAWLER|December ‘06
something? There are national taxes, county tax, borough tax — and don’t forget the parking taxes! Why is Hastings Banana Republic Council raising taxes for matters outside their responsibility? Why is it employing staff to carry out other authorities responsibilities? The Pelham Boulevard Area, for example, cost £308,000 in the year 2001/2; the following year this had jumped to £1,605,000 — a staggering total of £1,913,000, especially when you consider HBC’s net expenditure for 2002/3 was £14,146,000. Looking at staffing levels, or the fulltime equivalents (FTEs), in 1999-2000 the figure was 366; by the year 2002/3 it had jumped to 457! HBC currently employs approximately 500 FTEs while Rother District Council, which borders with Tunbridge Wells, Hythe and Eastbourne, with a slightly larger population, employs only 218 FTEs! Why? The question now is, why does Parliament make laws on responsibility and promoting citizen participation in local public life and ignore breaches of them? All HBC has done is create further public mistrust of politicians who are leading us further down the path of a Banana Republic where it is common practice for public money to create private profit. The only difference is that instead of United Fruit and Standard Fruit corporations, we have ‘consultancy’ firms producing ‘feasibility studies’, property developers promising millions to create Horntye Park Sports Complex in return for building a shopping centre on the old cricket ground — to say nothing of private car park companies funded by Hastings taxpayers!
Recently, the public raised concern over the £400m regeneration money, the query being: ‘Where are the plans and accounts for all this money?’ Truth is, Lord Falconer only promised £12.5m per year for three years in 2002, and this was dependent on six different government departments having the spare cash. So, the government spinning machine had supplied thread for only £37.5m over three years. Do they think we are stupid? Where has all the money gone? Well, in 2003 HBC admitted spending over £1m on consultants including, for example, over £835 per week for IT support due to absent staff, seconded to SEEDA — another unelected quango! Just how many of these are there? SEEDA, SERA, SEASPACE, plus of course the endless local District Quango Groups set up! D.M Former ToT reporter (now America correspondent) Ted Newcomen* met the District Auditor in the Council offices following a ‘review’ of information on certain malodorous activities Ted had uncovered while working for the Council. The Auditor concluded that nothing actually criminal had taken place within the Council, or at least anything he could pursue given his limited remit and powers. At the end of the meeting the Auditor looked Ted in the eye and said: ‘I’m afraid incompetence is not illegal’. *Formerly employed by HBC as the Stade Manager, TN was so appalled by the gross incompetence and manipulation of the truth concerning the so-called ‘Regeneration of Hastings’ that he blew the whistle and wrote about the scandals in a series of articles in a national magazine, for which he was later sacked. Ted took HBC to an industrial tribunal for unfair dismissal which led to him receiving a considerable out-of-court settlement from HBC to ensure that issues covered under the Public Information Disclosure Act could never appear in the public domain. ‘Never’ is a long time in politics!
LETTER FROM AMERICA
The Chesapeake Diaries by Ted Newcomen Sense of community– USA style
Church Hill, where we currently live in Maryland, is a tiny town, with a population of about 530 — barely a village by British standards. The average age is only 36 (that’s above the state average), 74.7 per cent are white folk and another 21.7 per cent are black (that’s below the state average). Less than one per cent of the population are foreign born — and that doesn’t include us. Yet this little place still has some social infrastructure apart from the usual plethora of Christian churches. It has a hardware store/lumber yard, a petrol station-cum-corner shop run by an Indian family (who probably make up that 1 per cent), a real post office, an active primary school, a live historic theatre, and, oh yes, it actually has a functioning local bank. Yes, you read that correctly — post office, shop/petrol station, bank, school, theatre — all in a town of only 530 residents. Clearly it also serves the wider rural hinterland, but that is still an incredible statement about how important such businesses are to the survival of a sense of community. Something successive British governments have totally failed to appreciate, resulting in the ubiquitous dull, dead, commuter towns and villages that now inhabit the British countryside, where ordinary working people are priced out of the market and replaced by ghettos of well-heeled geriatrics. We opened an account with the said bank on Monday and by Friday morning received a personallywritten card from the manager welcoming us as customers. When did that ever happen to you in England? And we are just ordinary savers, not millionaires, despite the welcome contributions by Hastings Borough Council and their legal advisors.
By contrast, we were customers with the Alliance & Leicester Building Society for almost ten years, during which time I barely recall getting even a pleasant hello from one of the staff, never mind a personal greeting. In fact, they eventually closed the Hastings & St. Leonards branch, clearly unable to screw enough profit out of its 85,000 residents. Buying a home – more real style
Having just purchased a home in the USA, we are just finding out that, unlike the UK, there are real tax advantages from owning a home in the States. To illustrate, let’s assume a homeowner is in an average 25 per cent tax bracket on an income of, say, $60,000 a year. Let’s also assume that his mortgage is $1000 a month principal and interest on a fixed 7 per cent loan of $150,307 over a 30-year period (in reality you can get a long loan at a fixed rate for as low as 5.5 per cent — but that’s yet another story). The homeowner will have to pay out about $15,000 pa in income tax and, say, another $1,500 in property taxes (that’s Council Tax). However, he is allowed to deduct $11,973 ($10,473 interest + $1,500 property tax) from his $60,000 income before calculating his tax liability. Subtracting this deduction from his income leaves $48,027 on which he only pays $12,007 (25 per cent) in income tax. Compare that to the UK where there is absolutely no allowance for mortgage interest and you have to pay Council Tax out of saving which has already had income tax deducted — an outrageous double taxation whammy! In a nutshell, the US government is willing to subsidise citizens into becoming homeowners while the UK government actually penalizes people who want to own their own homes. ‘M’ for propaganda
I read that MI5 Chief Dam Liar Manningham-Bullshit has informed
the gullible British public that ‘my officers and the police are working to contend with some 200 groupings or networks, totaling over 1,600 identified individuals (and there will be many we don’t know) who are actively engaged in plotting, or facilitating, terrorist acts here and overseas.’ What she failed to report was that there are also thousands of groupings or networks, totalling millions of people, who are actively engaged in pubs, dinner-parties, and work canteens who are actively engaged in plotting or facilitating the overthrow of the Bliar government. The only difference being that these people aren’t Muslims pushed into a corner by a rogue administration intent on promoting the mythical ‘clash of civilizations’ but ordinary native– born Brits who are fed up with being lied to. Americans have already woken up and given GW Bush and the Republican Party a good kicking in the recent November mid-term elections. It remains to be seen if the British electorate can overcome its usual apathy and inertia and give the same treatment to New Labour and the Tory Quislings The ‘Special Relationship’
And while we are on the subject, readers may also be interested to know how the so-called ‘special relationship’ between the UK and USA is viewed on this side of the puddle. Yup, you guessed it! It’s only ‘special’ when Tony Bliar and his government are doing exactly what George W. Bush and the White House wants. Every day the TV news here carries stories about US troops in Iraq and Afghanistan and the high number of casualties they are taking. Do British troops and British casualties get a mention? Rarely, in fact you would hardly know that we are the United States number one ally and these unnecessary, illegal, and immoral conflicts which are costing our boys their valuable lives, and your no less December ‘06 | THE TRAWLER
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LETTER FROM AMERICA
A Prophecy 'The spirit of the times may alter, will alter. Our rulers will become corrupt, or people careless. A single zealot may become persecutor, and better men be his victims. It can never be too often repeated that the time for fixing essential right, on a legal basis, is while our rulers are honest, ourselves united. From the conclusion of this war, we shall be going down hill. It will not then be necessary to resort every moment to the people for support. They will be forgotten, therefore, and their rights disregarded. They will forget themselves in the sole faculty of making money, and will never think of uniting to effect a due respect for their rights. The shackles, therefore, which shall not be knocked off at the conclusion of this war, will be heavier and heavier, till our rights shall revive or expire in a convulsion.' Thomas Jefferson (written during the American Revolutionary War, n.d.)
The Chesapeake Diaries (continued)
valuable tax-payers money. What’s in it for us you are probably asking? Wrong question, what’s in it for Mr. Bliar and all the politicians who have been supporting him on both sides of the House. Capitalism’s own goal
News that KFC (that’s Kentucky Fried Chicken to any readers who are over the age of 60 and weigh less than 350 pounds) is moving into Hanoi, in what was once North Vietnam, may provide some timely insight for the Pentagon and Tony Bliar on how to gain victory in Iraq. I’m sure the American survivors of the US-led invasion of Vietnam and the families of the 56,000 servicemen who lost their lives there are inspired by the notion that despite all their sacrifices capitalism has been victorious and a great multinational has taken root in the evil heart of the communist world. Perhaps our great leaders will now change strategy and instead of 4
THE TRAWLER|December ‘06
bombing the Iraqi populace into submission they will send in battalions of ‘finger-licking good’ aid workers to build dozens of KFC outlets in the hope that the subsequent massive rise in obesity will see the insurgents become too fat to fight. It’s no accident that KFC’s logo happens to be a bewhiskered old Colonel — fast food is at the forefront of the multinational war on consumers — the only trouble being that most of aren’t even aware that hostilities have begun. Debt? What debt?
People always like to point out how much the USA is in debt to the rest of the world. It makes interesting reading to compare the States with the UK — are you ready for this? The USA has a population of about 300 million, its gross national income is the biggest at about 30.5 per cent of the world’s total, and it is the most indebted nation on earth owing about
$8,837,000,000,000. The UK has a population of about 60 million, its gross national income puts it about 4th or 5th in the world at about 5.1 per cent of the world’s total, and it is only just behind the USA in its level of debt, owing $7,107,000,000,000. Pretty worrying when you remember that debt is spread among a population that’s only a mere 20 per cent of the US, and our income is also much smaller. Also of note is the fact that the combined debt of the USA and the UK approximately equals the amount owed by the next eight most indebted nations on earth. So I suggest everybody go out and cheer themselves up by shopping some more Save the planet
Finally, a bumper-sticker seen on the rear of a gas-guzzling 3.7Litre 4 by 4 Jeep SUV — ‘Go Green — Save the Planet’ — An American’s idea of what it is to be environmentally aware – I guess all things are relative. T.N.
FUTURE IMPERFECT
Goodbye to all that
Silverhill, 1950s
by Craig Lappin
AS
HASTINGS TO ESCAPE THE PERCEIVED LONDON EXISTENCE, CRAIG LAPPIN ASKS: ‘IS HASTINGS BECOMING A MIDDLE-CLASS PLAYGROUND, A SEASIDE GALAPAGOS, WHERE WHERE ECONOMIC VERSIONS OF DARWINIAN PRINCIPLES ARE ALLOWED TO FLOURISH AND WHERE THE QUALITY OF LIFE IS MEASURED ONLY IN TERMS OF CHEAP PROPERTY?’ Recent reports and surveys into ince the 2001 census, when the population was estimated to be in quality of life and expectations of the region of 86,000, there have been happiness, conducted by the BBC, recent unofficial figures to suggest that revealed some interesting statistics. this may have leapt to somewhere near Now, I am aware that statistics can be made to mean whatever you may want 125,000. Why is this? One of the reasons suggested is that to make them mean — the local Hastings has become a trendy outpost council are adept at suggesting that a beloved of Londoners tired of the daily percentage increase in people feeling grind and the lure of monetary gain safer in the town is a good thing, even involved in selling an overpriced though the majority still felt likely to modest property, in exchange for a be a victim of crime, is a case in point large pile with cash left over, is proving — but certain facts are inescapable. People want some space and don’t to be a proposition almost impossible to resist. want to smell other people’s kebabs, However, are there downsides to this hear their inane conversations or listen seemingly winning formula of a slower to their cheap motorcars or scooters pace of life, long walks on the beach zooming recklessly around a small and endless summer evenings of yards town whose infrastructure is broken of ale and fish and chip suppers in the and incapable of dealing with the Old Town? increasing volume of traffic; and they MORE AND MORE PEOPLE MOVE TO
NIGHTMARE OF
S
don’t want to live in a place where the police are only a response team that arrive to mop up the outcome of beery weekend violence; and they don’t want to live in a place where, according to local councillors, the only future for the town is a super casino, nor live in a town where the concept of regeneration means erecting cheap new-build office blocks, while buildings of heritage and architectural importance are left to rot. (St Mary’s in the Castle anyone?) Is there an irony at work here? People are moving here in an attempt to avoid the very thing that is increasingly prevalent in Hastings, as the town becomes more and more crowded and is now, according to the National Office of Statistics, one of the most crowded places in this part of the country, (a staggering 2,886 people per km2) which is in itself the most crowded area of Britain. It is not, however, just affluent Londoners who are moving into the town — there are a small amount moving to the Old Town, which is in danger of becoming a bourgeois enclave of elitist professionals and entrepreneurs who are out of touch with reality — as the cheap property also attracts exploitative property developers who are charging increasingly exorbitant rents for overcrowded and unsanitary conditions to people who will never be able to pick and choose where they live. With overcrowding comes social problems, and this is the reason why, in Hastings, the general population
Council Tax Charges for 2006-2007 Pop: 126,386 Band and Value
East Sussex C.C
£ A - up to £40,000 669.40 B - £40,001 up to £52,000 780.97 C - £52,001 up to 68,000 892.53 D - £68,001 up to £88,000 1,004.10.95 E - £88,001 up to £120,000 1,227.23 F - £120,001 up to £160,000 1,450.37 G - £160,001 up to £320,000 1,673.50
Sussex Police
£ 77.16 90.02 102.88 115.74 141.46 167.18 192.90
East Sussex Fire Authority
£ 46.84 54.65 62.45 70.26 85.87 101.49 117.10
Hastings BC
£ 139.17 162.36 185.56 208.75 255.14 301.53 347.92
Total Amount
£ 932.57 1,088.00 1,243.42 1,398.85 1,709.70 2,020.57 2,331.42
2004-2005 Amount
£ 893.34 1,042.23 1,191.12 1,340.01 1,637.79 1,935.57 2,233.35
December ‘06 | THE TRAWLER
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FUTURE IMPERFECT
pays more for council tax than the more affluent town of Eastbourne. Of course, ‘statistics don’t lie’ and as you can see from the table overleaf it would seem reasonable, as Hastings has a larger population than Eastbourne, that it should contribute at least equally to the county pot. But when we look at unemployment figures, the amount of mental and physical disability and the crumbling infrastructure, the total amount of people who are actually paying anything is less than most places in the county. In terms of Hastings, more people means more cost as central government place the responsibility for local funding more and more at county level, it becomes a matter of political will for a Conservative county council to make decisions that affect the lives of the inhabitants of a town whose allegiance has been for the most part of the past 15 years with a Labour administration, who have been (supposedly) committed to social action, tackling poverty and promoting regeneration. The table below shows the charges made by each authority for the same tax bands for the year 2006-7. There doesn’t seem to be much to choose between the two councils but when we look at the disparity in income raised (Hastings 2004-5 £37.2 million — Eastbourne 2004-5 £72.7 million), it must be reasonable to draw the inference that East Sussex County Council’s inability to redistribute income based on need, is contributing to the levels of poverty which are
among the worst in Western Europe. As a result, Hastings Borough Council has to set a higher local tax to attempt to bridge this gap. A recent report by the South East England Intelligence Network states the following: Deprivation within the South East is largely clustered in eastern and coastal districts with some significant pockets of deprivation in the inner parts of the region in large urban centres. Almost 37.7 per cent of the population of Hastings are classed as living in deprived areas. Hastings is the most ‘income deprived’ district in the region, with around 39.6 per cent of its population within the most deprived two deciles* nationally. Furthermore, around 20.8 per cent of population in Hastings falls within the most deprived 10 per cent nationally. Hastings is, in terms of employment, the most deprived district with 37.7 per cent of its population in the most deprived two deciles and 22.6 per cent in the most deprived decile nationally. Health and Disability: Hastings is the most deprived district with 34 per cent of its population in the most deprived two deciles nationally. This is closely followed by Brighton and Hove and Thanet (both 25 per cent). Crime and Disorder: Around 6.9 per cent of the population of the South East falls within the most deprived two deciles and 2.3 per cent within the most deprived decile.
Council Tax Charges for 2006/2007 Pop: 106,562 Charges made by each authority for each tax band.
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Hastings is again the most deprived district with 49.1 per cent of its population in the most deprived two deciles and 26.4 per cent in the most deprived decile. Large urban centres appear to be more deprived than rural areas. There are of course some serious questions that come out of facts and figures such as these but, is it possible that the affluent émigrés are in danger of perpetuating and deepening the social crisis that is gripping the town and the region? Hastings is in danger of becoming a middle class playground where economic versions of Darwinian principles are allowed to flourish and that can only result in one outcome — more deprivation and more decline. There is always a price to pay, a consequence that we may not envisage — in a bizarre reversal of Utilitarian principles, one person’s happiness may be achieved at the expense of the comfort of others — but if all you care about is the price of property or the status comfort that a large Victorian edifice will afford you, I hope you enjoy the fleeting moment of halcyon pleasure as your cash hoard dwindles and you increasingly become prey to the pressures of living in a deprived area, complaining about the crumbling infrastructure and the lack of shops and opportunity as you become the very people with whom you currently feel little kinship. C.L. Craig Lappin, who lectures in English and Critical Thinking at Park College, Eastbourne, is an economic migrant from London who is now stuck in the Hastings tar pit of fiscal limitations.
BAND
EBC Tax
ESCC Tax
SPA Tax
ESFA Tax
TOTAL TAX
* Noun: decile — (statistics) any of nine points that divided a distribution of ranked scores into equal intervals where each interval contains onetenth of the scores.
A B C D E F G H
£132.57 £154.66 £176.76 £198.85 £243.04 £287.23 £331.42 £397.70
£669.40 £780.97 £892.53 £1,004.10 £1,227.23 £1,450.37 £1,673.50 £2,008.20
£77.16 £90.02 £102.88 £115.74 £141.46 £167.18 £192.90 £231.48
£46.84 £54.65 £62.45 £70.26 £85.87 £101.49 £117.10 £140.52
£925.97 £1,080.30 £1,234.62 £1,388.95 £1,697.60 £2,006.27 £2,314.92 £2,777.90
Health inequalities – life expectancy Sources: South East England Intelligence Network www.see-in.co.uk Eastbourne Borough Council statistics and accounts department Hastings Borough Council statistics and accounts department East Sussex County Council statistics and accounts department National Office of Statistics – Census 2001 and 2006-7 estimates
THE TRAWLER|December ‘06
Sebastian ‘Bas’ Keep
BMX BIKING
Dancing the skies WHILE THE COUNCIL SWEATS OVER THE GROWING SPORTS OF BMX RIDING AND SKATEBOARDING IN THE TOWN, PERHAPS IT SHOULD CONSIDER ONE OF ITS NATIVES, BMX RIDER SEBASTIAN ‘BAS’ KEEP, WHO IS NOW INTERNATIONALLY REVERED AS A UK ‘PRO’. DURING A BREAK IN HIS BUSY SCHEDULE AND DEALING WITH A THUMB INJURY, THE TRAWLER’S KATE LINGARD CAUGHT UP WITH BAS TO TALK OF HIS SUCCESS SO FAR, HIS LOVE OF HIS HOMETOWN AND THE MISCONCEPTIONS THAT OFTEN SURROUND THIS EXTREME SPORT.
B
as Keep has been described as having ‘ten people’s talent squeezed into one body’ and at only twenty three has become a force to be reckoned with in the world of BMX freestyling. In June this year he appeared in the The Observer as a rising star, and is regularly featured in Dig BMX magazine and on Sky’s Extreme Sports Channel as one of the country’s top riders. His competition winning talent for ‘getting air’ (jumping 14 feet off 10 foot vertical ramps) is breathtaking, and not without risks! Born in Hastings in 1983, Bas spent his early years with his three siblings and artist mother, Tina, in Hollington. ‘The area gets a bad press sometimes, but I had a great time growing up there and spent most of my time riding my bike in the woods, building my own ramps.’ As money was often tight, Bas and his friends would nip over to Crowhurst where local engineer Dennis Wilson has a scrapyard full of bike parts brought over from Lewes and they would spend hours customising their own, with the help of Dennis to weld parts
on when needed. This gave Bas the opportunity to work on his skills, both on and off his bike — ‘If it wasn’t for Dennis I wouldn’t have been able to do this at all, so I’ll always be grateful for that’. After attending Churchwood Primary, Bas went onto The Grove, where Tina was often harassed by a teacher regarding concerns about Bas’ safety and future — ‘Well, I didn’t get that much homework done’, he remarks. On leaving school he worked for a while making furniture, but it was his later employment at Seventies Ltd. that gave him a perfect mix of work and leisure. The company had expanded since first starting at Backyard on the seafront, being the first to import US BMX brands. ‘After work we’d spend hours practising on the ramps there, it was the ideal job!’ One of Bas’s work- and play- mates was another BMX rider, Richard ‘Boyley’ Ball, who became a close friend and was tragically killed in a road accident in April 2002. ‘It happened while I was competing in
America for the first time. He was such a good mate and really pleased for me. I flew straight home for the funeral, which was massive, as other riders came from around the world.’ Memory of his friend lives on in the ‘Boyley Forever’ campaign, which holds annual ‘Boyley Jams’ for BMX enthusiasts. ‘It’s a great non-serious fun day — not just BMXing, but loads of other fund-raising stuff going on.’ The Fund, organised by Boyley’s parents, Charlie and Jill, Matt Brown, Dean Hearne, Edd Allen and ‘Fids’, is raising money to go towards making a bigger BMX/Skate park at the current site at Falaise Road. As we sit in The Street bar, Bas’ cool demeanour heats up when the subject of the current attitude of councillors and the police over the sport arises. ‘I don’t want to even think about the council — they’re always making promises’, he laments. ‘It wouldn’t take much to build a decent, larger and safer park, which would take us away from public areas, but at the moment they just seem to want to ban us and the skaters — that’s like saying ‘ban tennis’! As for fining people …’ December ‘06 | THE TRAWLER
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BMX BIKING
Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings; Sunward I’ve climbed and joined the tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds- and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of; wheeled and soared and swung High in the sun-lit silence. Hovering there I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung my eager craft through footless halls of air; Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace, Where never lark or even eagle flew; And while, with silent lifting mind I’ve trod The high untrespassed sanctity of space, Put out my hand, and touched the face of God. High Flight by John Gillespie Magee
On Hastings Day, another party was taking place, celebrating the launch of a DVD shot around the town and due for release in eleven countries. The Roundabout Tour is the second to be made by Roundabout, the company run by Bas, Edd Allen and Robin Fenlon. Featuring many other Hastings riders and shot over the past 7-8 months, Bas remarks, ‘I’d like the councillors to watch the DVD so they can see how professional we are and that we’re working for something positive. It’s such a huge scene now and it could be so much better — the assumption that we’re all hanging around being irresponsible is wrong.’ Just before our meeting, Bas had talked with Matt Davey from the Youth Development Service who works tirelessly with many youngsters in the town — ‘As a youth advisor to the council, Matt’s always talking to them on these issues.’ As a skateboarder himself, Matt’s determination to improve the situation is close to his heart. Says Matt of Bas, ‘He’s a good clean-living example to kids in the town.’ 8
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While some pro-riders often locate to other countries, Bas’ love for his hometown never diminishes. ‘I love travelling and competing in other countries. Even though I’ve been to the States about 25 times now, the best bit is that I’ll be coming home — I love Hastings and want to live here forever!’ He rides for the Hoffman Team and is also sponsored by Etnies, Red Bull, Vans Europe — the list goes on. This summer, touring the country with Red Bull for their Vert Shows, he mentored young aspiring BMX riders. Bas also appeared at the Sprite Urban Games in London and Download Festival at Donnington. ‘The Festivals are great — I get paid to perform, listen to the bands and get my mates backstage too.’ It was on a recent Hoffman International Team DVD shoot that Bas broke his left thumb, which put the brakes on any recent action. ‘We were three days into shooting when it happened and the director, Will Stroud, had come over from the States especially.’ However, it just so happens that there was an endless list
of injuries suffered by most of the team — hence the title Broke Off. While Bas endures the injury — adding to his list of others — he muses, ‘A friend of mine who’s been riding professionally for ten years had his first injury only recently. Lucky guy!” It’s hardly surprising he occasionally suffers for his talent — how many of us could hold onto handlebars with our midriff (a ‘tuck no hander’) while mid-air? If Bas continues his talent on the ramps, he’s likely to be one of two youngest candidates for the Beijing Olympics in 2008. Appearing relaxed about the prospect he tells me, ‘It would be the first discipline in BMX and the other guys are getting older now, but I’ll just carry on and see what happens.’ In the meantime one question remains. Will Hastings become a location for one of the best skateparks in the country to match the existing and future talents of its riders and skaters? Time will tell. K.L.
HASTINGS PIER
Pier-less Hastings
The history of Hastings Pier since 1939 by Steve Peak
(Taken 1945/early 1946. Note the gap highlighted in the middle of the pier)
THE HISTORY OF HASTINGS PIER HAS SORRY LESSONS FOR ITS UNCERTAIN FUTURE. HASTINGS COUNCIL ONCE OWNED AND RAN A QUARTER OF THE PIER, BUT HAD TO LITERALLY GIVE IT AWAY BECAUSE THEY WERE INCAPABLE OF MAINTAINING IT. AND THE COMPANY THEY GAVE IT TO HAD PREVIOUSLY BEEN RUNNING THE PIER ALMOST ILLEGALLY FOR OVER HALF A CENTURY, FORCING IT TO OBTAIN ITS OWN ACT OF PARLIAMENT TO STRAIGHTEN OUT ITS LAW-BENDING. THESE UNINSPIRING TALES OF BAD MANAGEMENT OF THE PIER IN THE 1950S AND ‘60S RAISE WARNING FLAGS FOR THE MANY PEOPLE NOW CAMPAIGNING FOR ITS PRESERVATION. STEVE PEAK CONTINUES HIS HISTORY OF THE 134-YEAR OLD HASTINGS PIER, AND SHOWS HOW SETTING UP A TRUST IS PROBABLY THE ONLY WAY FORWARD.
F
or most of the Second World War the pier was closed to the public. On 22 May 1940 refugees from France and Belgium in a Belgian steam tug were landed on the pier. Two of the men aboard brought 13 million Belgian francs, funds of the Belgian Railway. The refugees were then taken to the Municipal Hospital. Early in the war the pier was requisitioned for training purposes, and later a large gap was cut in it to stop it being used as a landing platform by the enemy. Restoration of the pier began immediately after the end of the war. The demolished section was replaced in 1946, with the theatre and restaurant reopening in June that year.
Solariums were built in 1951 and 1956. Through the 1950s the pier’s many attractions proved very popular again. But then the Pier Company realised that most of them were actually illegal! The original statute allowing the building of the pier — the 1867 Hastings Pier Act — had only given permission for it to be used as a promenade, with a pavilion on the end, and facilities for pleasure boats. The act had not allowed the addition of anything else. It was only in the late 1950s that the company realised it had to do something about the fact that all the other attractions that they had built on the pier were unlawful. So the 1960 Hastings Pier Act was hurriedly
steered through parliament by a local solicitor who was on the board of directors. The second big problem was the parade extension, the landward end of the pier that had been bought from the Pier Company in 1914 and then made much bigger. The extension is the area that remained open through the summer of 2006. In the early 1950s discussion started with Hastings Council as to the desirability of the Pier Company again acquiring ownership of the extension, following the friction that there had sometimes been with the council between the wars. But before these talks concluded, in 1966 Hastings Council erected on it the Triodome to house the Hastings Embroidery, a focal point of the 1066 Battle of Hastings anniversary celebrations. There had been a large, fixed, bandstand in the middle of the parade extension, but this was demolished in April 1961 and was replaced by a portable one that was despatched to Warrior Square in 1966 to make way for the Triodome. Finally, in 1968, after two years of December ‘06 | THE TRAWLER
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negotiations, the extension (plus Triodome) again became the property of the Pier Company. But the company that had sold part of the pier to the town hall for a tidy sum in 1914 was being handed it back for nothing — plus at least £20,000! The reason was that the council had failed to properly maintain the structure of the extension, and rather than carry out the work, it passed the buck (many bucks in fact!). A 1960s Pier Company director today recalls that the council officers then trying to look after their part of the pier had at least some personal concern about the matter, whereas their modern counterparts show little interest in anything other than themselves. The town is now run by incompetent, over-paid officers, he believes, and that is bad news for the future of the pier. The Triodome was converted into an amusement arcade in 1969, and the bandstand shelters into shops and kiosks. The End of the Good Times
In the 1960s the pier was still a thriving and diverse business. Its ballroom was very popular (and profitable), not least because its liberal fire regulations allowed huge numbers of teenagers to be crammed into it to see top music groups like The Who, Jimi Hendrix, the Hollies, Pink Floyd, Gary Glitter, Tom Jones and Gene Vincent. The Rolling Stones appeared four times, including the Saturday immediately before the major mods and rockers riots in Hastings on August Bank Monday, 1964. In the early 1970s the pier still had a theatre, concert hall, bingo, amusement arcades, angling facilities, bars, a speedboat, steamer trips, kiosks, refreshment rooms and even a zoo (which closed in late 1974, with a charity buying some of its creatures, including ten hens and 20 rats). In 1976 the below-deck structure of the pier was listed, but the buildings on-deck were not, as none were there when the pier was built. 10
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But the story of the pier began to change in the early 1980s, when decline set in. In 1983 the Pier Company sold the pier for £196,000 to Hamberglow Ltd, a company formed by two of the pier’s largest concessionaires. These were John Shrive, of Manns Amusement that had two arcades on the pier, and Peter Fisher, of Fisher Enterprises that ran the bingo and social club. The pier had been for sale for several years and, in 1983, Hastings solicitor John Lester, chairman of the Hastings Pier Company, recommended to his 185 shareholders that they should sell
because revenue was falling while maintenance costs were increasing. The future looked gloomy. ‘The company’s main asset is an 111-year old structure needing constant attention because of its age and vulnerability to the sea,’ the wellknown and widely-respected Mr Lester said at the time. He later emphasised that the company had always maintained the pier properly, employing specialist surveyors Cooed and Partners to carry out an annual inspection of the understructure, the recommendations of which were then implemented. But it appears that from 1983 the new owners of the pier did not continue this policy, laying the stage for the future disaster. Shrives and Fisher tried to relaunch the pier following their 1983 takeover, but with little success. The pier had become tatty in many areas, so they redecorated the restaurant and renovated the run-down ballroom foyer and toilets. But their ideas for a new pub, an ice cream parlour, circus, model village, aquarium and wrestling were all to come to nothing. The plan to make the Triodome taller and better was abandoned, and the giant aluminium structure was soon pulled down. Its site has remained clear ever since. Shrives and Fisher were small-scale local businessmen with insufficient capital to carry out the big investment the pier needed. Hastings Pier had to be made as attractive as Eastbourne Pier and Brighton’s Palace Pier — both owned by big companies — to boost the visitors and income. But all the two amusements men could do was patch up the worst of the problems and hope for the best. By 1984 it became clear that the pier urgently needed major investment. Shrives and Fisher aimed to build new attractions, including a pub, but to do this they had to obtain parliamentary approval, through the private 1985 Hastings Pier Act. A new private limited company was set up — the
HASTINGS’ PIER
Hastings Pier Company Ltd — re-using the name of the original statutory pier company. But when the Pier Company asked Hastings Council for a £200,000 grant in December 1984 councillors threw out the request after only a few minutes discussion. In 1989 the company admitted it had been in the red for the previous two years, and said that grants from any source were needed if it was to do any more than just keep the business ticking over. By then its main attractions were the bingo hall (with as many as 250 people on a good Saturday night), angling, the ballroom with its 60s nostalgia nights, the four bars, the café, amusements machines and the ‘palmist and clairvoyant’ who could predict your future — for a small fee. The Pier Preservation Society was started in November 1990. Its aim was to restore the 1930s art deco frontage. The driving force behind the society were Louise Neech and Bill and Denise Clements who ran shops on the pier. But the society was wound up three years later. It had managed to obtain the offer of a £28,000 grant from the European Commission towards the £100,000 cost of the restoration, and Hastings Council offered £10,000. But English Heritage refused to help because the pier was private property. Society chair Louise Neech said: ‘The main problem all the way along the line is that it is owned by a private company’. In 1993 storms caused £100,000 damage to the pier, and in the autumn of 1996 the pier was put up for sale. A bid was made to the Millennium Lottery Commission, but this was rejected in January 1997. Then, on Wednesday 13 October 1999, the pier closed
suddenly when the Pier Company went into voluntary liquidation. Chairman Tom Cruse said the company had acted on the advice of insolvency experts. He said the pier had had a very poor season, especially in August when the weather was bad. There were fewer holidaymakers or daytrippers coming to Hastings, resulting in a reduced number of pier visitors. In addition, the company had still not covered the costs of setting up the Ocean Club several months before. The company had also had to pay a £20,000 excess on an insurance policy following storm damage. Mr Cruse had been associated with the pier since the early 1970s and other company people had also been connected for a long time. ‘For all of us it is a day of immense sadness and disappointment.’ Storms on 24 October 1999 caused considerable damage. Company liquidator Stephen Katz said after the creditors meeting on 27 October that the company debt was £160,000. He said health and safety were paramount, with areas of the pier not safe for the public following the storm. He would carry out emergency repairs and put the pier up for sale. The closure highlighted the poor state of the pier’s below-deck structure, which Hastings Council officers estimated would cost upwards of £6 million to restore. The National Piers Society urged the council to form a trust which would then be eligible for lottery cash, as had happened at Swanage and Colwyn Bay. Saved! (temporarily)
In August 2000 the pier was bought from the receiver by millionaire Ian Stuart. Following what he called his ‘six-figure’ bid, Stuart purchased it using his Hampshire-based company Something Different, whose parent company was the Andorran-registered Mundial Invest SA. For 16 years, Stuart, aged 50, had lived in Andorra in what he called ‘the biggest and highest property in the country’ with
his native-born wife and businesspartner Nuria, the main shareholder in Mundial. The Hastings Observer described Stuart as a ‘laid-back, straight-talking businessman’. It went on: ‘The millionaire’s story is a fascinating reallife rags-to-riches fairytale. Born in Somerset and educated in Gosport, the young entrepreneur earned his first few pennies picking worms out a creek and selling them for bait. He left home at 15 and headed for the bright lights of London to seek his fortune. After a short spell sleeping rough in train stations, Ian Stuart landed his first job as a carpet salesman. From there, he went on to start his own carpet business and then there was no stopping him. ‘Ian and Nuria have spent the past seven years transforming a ruined Napoleonic fort into an idyllic island retreat. No Man’s Land, which stands in the Solent, is currently up for sale – priced £10 million.’ Stuart wanted to steer clear of the tacky amusement arcade and candy floss image of piers. He envisaged a modern, yet traditional attraction, with something to suit everyone. Major above-deck renovation began in early September 2000, before the sale was completed — and before Stuart had planning permission for changes to the Grade II listed substructure. The work carried on throughout the winter of 2000/1, but only came up for official approval on 30 March 2001. Then the council’s planning board had to decide whether they could give the go-ahead to alterations that had already taken place. Council officers described the pier as looking bland, mediocre, unadventurous and more like a supermarket. There were complaints from the public about the loss of some of the old features. But the planning board — made up of councillors from all three parties – rubber-stamped the controversial changes. Stuart injected much cash into the December ‘06 | THE TRAWLER
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pier, despite fears that it may have come to the end of its economic life because of the uncertain returns there would be on the high capital costs. He made the pier look attractive, and gave it a new dynamic feeling. Accommodation was let to a variety of users, including Meridian TV and Vodafone, by marine consultancy company Vail Williams. After being closed for 18 months, the pier reopened on Bank Holiday Monday, 5 May 2001. But not all the shops had been leased, and the pubrestaurant, ballroom and bingo hall were still not ready. Stuart tried to take over the former White Rock Ice Rink — originally the White Rock Baths — adjoining the pier, but this came to nothing. However, for all the work on the pier, little was done to the below-deck structure, a crucial factor for the future. For the next five years the pier had many ups and downs. However, there were no significant attractions on the seaward end of the pier, so few visitors went much further than the promenade extension. This meant that many of the various shops and units suffered poor turnovers, prompting frequent changes in tenants, and leaving many places unlet. In 2004 the pier changed hands, at a legal level if nothing else. An offshore company called Ravenclaw Investment Inc became the new owner. Little was known about it for sure, except that it was registered in Panama. Rumours said that it had about six shareholders, with Stuart playing a prominent role, and his wife as chairman. The poor state of the pier behind its fresh paintwork prompted Hastings Council in January 2005 to start negotiation with Ravenclaw to ensure it set up a proper regime of maintenance and repair. Also that month, Ravenclaw created a new company — Boss Management Ltd, based in Barnsley — which took on that role, if only in name. 12
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Later, in 2005, the council received an engineer’s report showing a considerable amount of repair work, costing up to £1.2 million, was needed to guarantee the pier’s future in the short to medium term. Lengthy discussions with the pier owners and agents followed. In February 2006 the council told Ravenclaw they required a list of all identified structural faults; a prioritised schedule of works; a badweather procedure; and an inspection regime following extreme events. This again was followed by lengthy discussions with no result. Improvement notices were served on Boss Management and Ravenclaw on
The town is now run by incompetent, overpaid officers... and that is bad news for the future of the pier... 16 May 2006, requiring a full structural survey of the pier, and any remedial work identified to be carried out. This had to be completed by 21 July. But on Friday 16 June 2006 there was a rushed evacuation of the pier. Hastings Council used emergency powers under the 1984 Building Act to shut the majority of the pier — but not the extended promenade — after their own expert survey revealed the structure was in imminent danger of collapse. The council had called in the experts after pieces of metal fell from the below-deck structure. The marine engineers found the situation was far worse than originally expected, with the damage so severe they were surprised the pier was standing at all. Ravenclaw and Boss appeared before Hastings Magistrates Court on 21 June. The council was seeking legal confirmation of its closure order, thereby ensuring the pier stayed shut
until all the required structural repairs were done. Dozens of concerned tenants and workers marched in procession from the pier to the court, off Bohemia Road. Magistrates adjourned the case until 9 August, saying specialist reports into the pier structure should be put together. But Ravenclaw failed to produce one, so magistrates adjourned the case until 12 September. Ravenclaw told the court it was intending to rely on weight tests on the decking, to be carried out by tenants Stylus Sports. The worst fears about the structure of the pier were confirmed at the 12 September hearing. An expert witness, William Newton, with 35 years experience in the surveying business, said he believed the pier had reached the end of its design life and would need substantial work to make it safe for the public. ‘All piers reach the stage when they need major investment. This pier has reached that point. The structure itself is at risk.’ The judge ruled that Hastings Council had been right in shutting the main part of the pier on 16 June, and it should remain closed. Ravenclaw failed to put forward any evidence to the court, and a pier trader dismissed the company’s legal representation as ‘laughable’. The 12 September decision put a large question mark over the future of the pier. Would Hastings see a reenactment of the tragedy of Brighton’s West Pier, where finding a means of saving the pier took too long, and failed? Cllr Jeremy Birch, leader of the Labour-controlled Hastings Council until the Conservatives won the May 2006 elections, said the council should immediately pay for the structural survey, and then should serve a listed building order on the owners, requiring them to do the work. ‘If still nothing happens the council must appoint contractors to go in and do the work in default,’ he said in a letter
HASTINGS’ PIER
The Hastings Trawler (in conjunction with the SNAFU principle)
Proudly Announces The Launch of the
Paramilitary Wing of
AGE CONCERN (not an outfit for cissies)
First, an apology. For it must be the duty of every generation to leave the world a better place. And in this sense we have failed. Rather than a nicer society, we have left you with a rag-bag of cosmetic freedoms, intrusive surveillance, lots of shopping, road humps, smart missiles, 300 television channels, New Labour, and wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Sorry about that!
to the Hastings Observer (22 Sept). ‘That may well mean the council compulsorily purchasing the pier, but if that is the alternative to it falling into total dereliction, then so be it.’ At the same time, local MP Michael Foster offered to act as a conduit between the council and Ravenclaw in order to get things moving again. In addition, the Castle Ward Forum, an independent group devoted to looking after and improving the town, booked the White Rock Theatre for 11 November for a meeting where all the issues could be discussed by the key figures involved. Before then, council leader Cllr Peter Pragnell announced on 16 October that ‘the council would continue to press the owners and was examining the options it might have for further action’. Meanwhile, Ravenclaw had lodged an appeal against the 12 September verdict. Council officers suspected that the main reason for this was that the company wanted to avoid having to do anything while it waited to hear if the government would allow Hastings to have a casino, a decision expected by the end of the year. The pier would
try to become the location of that casino. The pier tenants struggled through October to keep their businesses going, but finally gave up on Halloween. The pier closed completely from 1 November 2006. Several large notices were put up on the pier’s promenade railings, saying: ‘Hastings Pier left to rot by Hastings Council’, ‘Where has the £400m regeneration gone?’, ‘Hastings Pier 1869-2006 RIP’ and ‘Wasteful bureaucracy’. Cllr Pragnell was widely criticised for the failure of his council to do anything to save the pier. He said: ‘We have recently met with the owners who assure us a survey will be done. Until then we cannot be sure how much money it will take to make the pier safe. ‘The cost could run into tens of millions of pounds, and we cannot commit a bottomless pit of taxpayers money. The ball is in Ravenclaw’s court, but we are keeping an eye on them.’ At the packed 11 November meeting, the message: ‘If you won’t save our pier, then we will!’ was
hammered into Hastings Council and the elusive owners of the collapsing Victorian ironwork. Over 200 people in the lower theatre of the White Rock heard more promises from the pier’s offshore landlord Ravenclaw, and no promises at all from the council. Cllr Pragnell again said were waiting to see if Ravenclaw carried out the survey. Local MP Michael Foster’s proposals received the biggest applause, urging the council to apply for a compulsory purchase order, so that if Ravenclaw failed to do anything, as he feared, then the pier could still be saved before it was too late. ‘Raveclaw has a proven record of doing nothing,’ he said. There were two hours of arguments on the platform about who was responsible for the looming disaster, and demands from the audience that somebody must do something. At the end of the meeting, organised by the Castle Ward Forum, one clear decision emerged: a trust should be set up to take over the pier. The Forum’s next step is likely to be a meeting early in 2007 to form a trust that would spearhead the saving of the pier. S.P. December ‘06 | THE TRAWLER
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Colonel Terence Humphrey Keyes
THE COLONEL FROM BEXHILL
The strange eventful history of Colonel Keyes by Michael Occleshaw
LOCAL HISTORIAN AND AUTHOR MICHAEL OCCLESHAW RELATES THE STORY OF COLONEL TERENCE KEYES FROM BEXHILL, WHO WAS INTIMATELY ENGAGED IN CLANDESTINE OPERATIONS IN RUSSIA IN 1918, OPERATIONS WHICH ALMOST CHANGED THE COURSE OF THE HISTORY OF THE TWENTIETH CENTURY
T
he Bolsheviks seized power in Russia on 7 November 1917 and immediately began seeking a separate peace with the Central Powers. Russia’s Allies were faced with serious problems: it meant their numerical superiority would vanish, the Germans could move thousands of troops to the Western front, and the blockade that was strangling the Central Powers would be broken. In London, the War Cabinet urgently began to consider how Britain and France might turn this situation around. When it met on 3 December 1917, it instructed The Acting Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs to inform the British Ambassador at Petrograd of the action taken and to acquaint him, with reference to his telegram No. 1886, of the 28th November, 1917, that the policy of the British government was to support any responsible body in Russia that would actively oppose the Maximalist movement, and at the same time give money freely, within reason, to such bodies as were prepared to help the Allied cause; and that the detailed arrangements as to the establishment of Ukraine, Cossack, Armenian and Polish 14
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banks were left to the discretion of Sir George Buchanan.’ The die was cast, for this meeting of the War Cabinet had chosen to intervene indirectly in Russia and money was to be the spearhead of intervention. There is one more fact that it is crucial to recognise, specifically that the war on the Eastern front was going to be fought by proxy, using whatever Russian forces that would fight as surrogates to achieve British aims. It was to fall to the lot of the Intelligence Services to guide this financial spearhead to its target. However, Britain needed to operate in conjunction with her French ally. On the morning of 21 December, the War Cabinet, prompted by Lord Robert Cecil, decided to send a small team to co-ordinate policy in Russia with the French. Its members were the Assistant Foreign Secretary, Lord Robert Cecil, Lord Milner and the Director of Military Intelligence, General Macdonogh. They met the French representatives, Georges Clemenceau, the Prime Minister, Monsieur Pichon, the Foreign Minister, and Général Foch, on 23 December. The French Government was not only ready to accommodate the policy of the British War Cabinet,
as expressed on 3 December, but had already taken active steps on its own initiative. The British delegation found complete accord with the idea of maintaining relations with the Bolsheviks through unofficial agents, hoping thereby to dissuade the Bolsheviks from placing any trust in Germany, while persuading them to keep both their artillery and wheat out of German hands. Simultaneously, both the British and French Governments agreed to give support to the other groups in Russia that held out the promises of continuing the war with Germany and denying her the resources of Russia. The British team also found the French to be especially keen to support the Ukrainians. The resulting agreement divided Russia into French and British spheres of influence, with the French taking responsibility for the Ukraine and the Czechoslovaks, while the British were to handle the Armenians, Cossacks and the Caucasus. The Allies were trying to have it both ways. Cecil presented this agreement to the War Cabinet on 26 December. They duly approved the policy with minimal discussion, merely adding a paragraph regarding the obligation of honour that Russia had towards Serbia. The apparently perfunctory manner in which the War Cabinet passed this policy is frightening. It was a policy pregnant with civil war for Russia and one that threatened to burden the Allies with extensive new commitments. More than that, the decision to support the new regional ‘governments’ was unquestionably interference on a grand scale in Russia’s internal affairs. It was from these meetings and decisions in December 1917 that the horrors of the Russian Civil War were to flow. The British Ambassador in Russia, Sir George Buchanan, had been left to make detailed arrangements for the establishment of Ukrainian, Cossack, Armenian and Polish banks in the directive of 3 December 1917. The only clue given in the instruction to
THE COLONEL FROM BEXHILL
the origin of the idea of founding these banks was a reference to Buchanan’s telegram No. 1886 of the 28th November 1917. However, investigation establishes that the idea was originally a Russian one and had been put to Buchanan five days beforehand. On 23 November Buchanan had been approached by Prince Shahovskoi, whom he described as a ‘Russian Banker’, with a proposal to found a Cossack Bank. The idea was to create a bank that could, with Allied backing, finance the Cossacks under the Ataman Kaledin. In light of the promise Buchanan had given to the Soviet Government that the British Embassy would not support domestic opposition to the Bolsheviks, it was decided to try to use the British Embassy to Roumania, now at Jassy with the Roumanian Royal Family and government. However, Roumania's position was precarious and had been dependent upon Russian support, which was now a thing of the past. The British Embassy there, led by Sir George Barclay, attempted to finance the forces in South Russia that were promising help to the Allies. Yet by 6 January 1918 it was apparent that the British at Jassy were unable to provide the funds required. When the War Cabinet met on 21 January 1918, Lord Robert Cecil reported that considerable difficulties had been experienced in getting financial assistance to the Cossacks and other friendly persons in SouthEastern Russia. In this connection, he drew attention to two telegrams that had been received from Major Keyes, in which he suggested that if we could advance £5,000,000 to an un-named capitalist it would be possible for us to get control of five banks that had branches in the friendly territory, which would enable us not only to finance the Cossacks, but also to obtain control of important industrial resources in Southern Russia. The Chancellor of the Exchequer felt some difficulty in making such an
advance to an unknown person, even on Major Keyes’ recommendation. General Knox stated that the unknown capitalist was probably Mr Poliakoff, who was subsequently ascertained to be a Jewish banker of Rostov-on-Don, and who was known to General Poole. So who was Major Keyes and what was he doing advising the advance of £5 million to an unnamed capitalist? Terence Humphrey Keyes was the brother of Admiral Sir Roger Keyes, who rose to fame in the war through his command of British submarines in the North Sea, his work as Chief of Staff at the Dardanelles, and as Commander of the Dover Patrol who initiated the dramatic raids on Zeebrugge and Ostend in 1918. He was a fire-eater, bold and always ready to take risks. Terence, although a good man in a tight spot, was a more subtle character. With his wiry physique, a narrow jaw, narrow eyes and the slightly cynical smile playing on his lips, his face spoke both of craftiness and strength. It was doubtless these facets of his character that singled him out for the Political Service of the Government of India. It was in this service, as Political Agent in Bahrain, that the outbreak of war found him. Rare qualities were required for the Political Service, which was recruited two-thirds from the Indian Army, and one-third from the Indian Civil Service. The recruits to the Service were picked men, picked from picked men. The sort of qualities needed by these men were very similar to those commanded by ‘agents of influence’ in the SIS: subtlety, tact, confidence (but not overconfidence) and the ability to apply pressure without being seen to do so. Above all, they needed to be masters of intrigue with not only the ability to mount their own intrigues, but to smell a hostile intrigue before it became dangerous. They were attached to the courts of the Indian princes in order to keep them, if not friendly to the British, then from doing them any harm by fomenting
nationalist trouble in India. Such a man was Keyes. He was married with two daughters and his home was Freezeland Farm near the hamlet of Lunsford’s Cross, just outside the coastal town of Bexhill in East Sussex. In the summer of 1917 he was attached to the Russian Army on the Roumanian front to conduct a propaganda campaign designed to persuade the Russian soldiers to fight and stand by the Roumanians. It soon became clear that the Russians were too demoralised for Keyes to have any appreciable effect. He could not make water run uphill. More pressing needs arose for his abilities, and he was summoned to the British Embassy in Petrograd where he arrived shortly before the Bolshevik coup. The task he had been called to perform was, in his own words, ‘nominally running military propaganda, I was really doing political intelligence for the Ambassador.’ The ‘political intelligence’ was to raise money to finance the Don Cossacks and others. The Cossacks had merged themselves into a body that called itself the South Eastern Confederacy, which included such notables as Miliukov, formerly the Foreign Minister of the Provisional Government, and Rodzianko, formerly the President of the Duma. They called themselves the Party of Collection, as they hoped to collect the different elements of the disintegrating Russian Empire into a unified whole. The situation was already confused and became more so with the creation of a new force, the Volunteer Army, a formation composed of officers and men of the old Russian Army, who still retained fighting spirit and were both loyal to the Allies and entirely antagonistic to the Bolsheviks. It was under the twin command of Generals Kornilov and Alexeyev, the latter having been the last Chief of Staff to the Tsar. Composed of seasoned fighting men, its military value was high, but its numbers were small. It was also hopelessly isolated. Without powerful December ‘06 | THE TRAWLER
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THE COLONEL FROM BEXHILL
allies, its doom appeared inevitable. With such a potentially powerful union dominating the rich provinces of South-Eastern Russia, the Confederacy represented a glittering prize for the Allies, if they could grasp it. Its most urgent and immediate need was money, and it was in search of that vital commodity that Prince Shahovskoi went to see Sir George Buchanan. The task of arranging the details was given to Keyes and the scheme to finance the South Eastern Confederacy was put into motion on 28th December 1917. Keyes explained the predicament he found himself in: ‘At this time the Bolsheviks had partially nationalized the banks, and, though the Embassy had several million roubles in various banks, it was unable to raise any for propaganda or secret service, and I was told to raise a fighting fund. This job led me into relations with financiers of all grades and politicians mixed up in finance. The party of collection was in desperate straits for money. There was a great dearth of money tokens in the towns of the South….Something big was required to raise an army and finance what must develop into a civil war. Alexeyev appealed to us through certain statesmen of high reputation, and, as the Ambassador had assured the Bolsheviks that the Embassy was not engaged in any counter-revolutionary plot, I was told to examine the question and interview Alexeyev’s agents.’ With Britain teetering on the edge of bankruptcy after financing the Allied war effort for nearly three years, the burden of financing a civil war fell on the Americans. They were not shy of taking on the task, as Lord Robert Cecil explained: ‘It has been intimated to us confidentially that President Wilson is in favour of the provision of Allied support for the above elements, and that while he has no 16
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power to lend money direct to such un-organized movements, he is willing to let France and England [sic Britain] have funds to transmit to them if they consider it desirable.’ Deepest secrecy surrounded the operation. This was less because of the assurance Buchanan had given the Bolsheviks that the Embassy was not engaged in any counter-revolutionary plots — that seems to have been entirely insincere — but because: ‘The Allies could not back it openly, as this would have been an act of war against the Bolsheviks, which they were then unable to undertake.’ Alexeyev had originally asked for £15,000,000 but the Embassy was unable to supply this directly. The Bolsheviks had decreed that dealing in foreign exchange was a capital offence in order to prevent the export of capital that threatened their policy of confiscation. Attempts were made to raise the money by selling British Treasury Orders, but it was soon discovered that it was impossible to keep this secret. Keyes recorded that in the attempts to do this, four of his seven agents were caught and shot. While the economic problems of the Confederacy were real enough, the initiative can be seen to have originated with politicians and soldiers for political ends. All the British documents bear this out. In the summer of 1918 the British sent an Economic Mission to Russia to investigate the transactions Keyes had entered into. Its Report sums the situation up with the greatest clarity and simplicity: ‘It appears to us important in the first place to bear in mind the objects with which these negotiations were originally entered upon. These objects were almost wholly political. We understand that the negotiations were initiated as a means of meeting the difficulty of providing Russian currency for political and military purposes,
without which the South-Eastern Federation would have been practically helpless.’ Rodzianko figured in the next move, too. Due to tensions with the Cossacks, who did not trust him, he chose to remain in the background and it was his cousin and agent, V.M. Vonliarliarsky, who introduced the Party of Collection’s financial agent, Karol Yaroshinsky, to Keyes, who had been promoted to the temporary rank of Lieutenant-Colonel from 6 January to help in dealing with such august figures, and was directed to examine the proposals the group had in mind. Karol Yaroshinsky was a Russian Pole, the scion of a very old Polish family who was 39 in 1918. He was the son of a large landowner and owner of sugar refineries from the Kiev Government of South Russia. His father died when Karol was young, which meant he was forced to accept heavy responsibilities at an age when most young men are not considered experienced enough to control a business. He also inherited the equivalent of £350,000. He was both energetic and resourceful and soon proved himself more than capable of running the business. When reviewing Yaroshinsky's business operations, we find a man who was a speculator. He started by using his land and sugar refineries as security to borrow large sums of money that he then used to purchase considerable numbers of shares in Russian banks. He then used the shares as security against which he borrowed more money that he then used to buy more shares; in fact it was a pyramiding operation. His success built him a reputation as a credible and reliable man, for his contemporaries saw someone who could command great wealth and be trusted with large sums of money by others. However, he was more interested in influencing politics to maximise his financial returns than he was in building a business on sound lines. He was the sort of man who
THE COLONEL FROM BEXHILL
gained people’s confidence and then used them, or their perception of him, to further his own ends. For those with a psychological bent, the early death of his father may be viewed as significant. It may explain Yaroshinsky’s desire to be ‘a great and conspicuous man’, both in respect of compensating for his own loss and perhaps fuelling a desire to better his father. Whether this was so or not, Karol Yaroshinsky seems to have had an ego with a voracious appetite. Perhaps it was his ego as well as selfpreservation that led him to adopt an anti-German stance. Keyes noted: ‘During his meteoric career he had contracted enmities with certain bankers who happened to have come within the German orbit. The Germans were already in treaty with certain banks, and he was compelled, in order to keep his flag flying and realise his ambition, to stand out against the Germans.’ Keyes had many meetings with Yaroshinsky, and Vonliarliarsky to thresh out the details of the scheme. This was not done without considerable risk in the conditions prevailing in both Petrograd and Moscow that winter. There was not only the danger of arrest by the newly formed Cheka, the Bolsheviks’ politial police, but the dire conditions that were the fruit of the breakdown of law and order that followed on the heels of both Russian Revolutions in 1917 made conditions dangerous. As Keyes explained: ‘It was impossible to meet anyone connected with financial matters except secretly by night. Flats with entrances to two different streets were generally selected, the interviews always took place after 11 o’clock at night, and it was generally stipulated that I should wear a different fur coat and cap every time. There was anything up to 100 robberies with violence every night — the victims [sic: victim] being generally stripped to his vest and drawers in a temperature of
frost. Snow was not generally cleared away, but was piled in great heaps at the sides of the streets, giving good covert to the armed gangs which infested the town. I was out for 22 nights out of the 28 in February, was attacked three times, twice with revolvers, and once with a bomb, saw three murders and several hold ups, and got involved in two general melees.’ While the territories more or less controlled by the Confederacy contained enormous natural wealth, it was wealth that could not be realised without a bank that could issue currency against this wealth. The formation of such a ‘State’ bank was thus imperative, but it would be unable to carry a large issue of notes with a value comparable to that of the Kerenski rouble unless it was based on strong backing from the great financial institutions of London or Paris. That could not be done openly since it would have laid the British and French Governments open to the charge of fomenting civil war when the British Ambassador had expressly promised the Bolsheviks that the Embassy would do no such thing. The arrangement Keyes and his fellow conspirators reached to achieve the same ends but by indirect means was to establish a Cossack Bank, backed by five, later seven, of the major Russian banks. This is where Yaroshinsky was to play the key role. He already owned enough shares to control three of these banks and was determined to group all of them under his wing. He needed money from the British and, ultimately, the Americans to achieve this. The banks that were seen as the bedrock of the scheme were the Russian Commercial and Industrial Bank, the Russian Bank of Foreign Trade, the Kiev Private Bank, the Union Bank, the International Bank and the Volga Kama Bank. The latter bank was later dropped from the scheme at the suggestion of Yaroshinski, to be replaced by the Siberian Bank. It was not only the fact December ‘06 | THE TRAWLER
17
THE COLONEL FROM BEXHILL
that ownership of these banks would permit the foundation of a Cossack Bank with Anglo-French backing that was the carrot dangling in front of the eyes of the Allies. This coalition would control almost the whole of Russia’s economic life under normal circumstances and no Russian government would have been able to function effectively without its support. Keyes explained the prospects in a memorandum: ‘These banks own or control practically all the sugar concerns in the Ukraine valued at 400 million roubles, several railways, 1 million acres of easily accessible forest, 300,000 acres of irrigated cotton land in Central Asia, nearly all the insurance concerns of Russia, beside large oil, coal, cement and other concerns. ‘The addition of the Siberian Bank would bring with it… great influence over the most extensive, but only partially developed grain tracts of Russia, and over the butter business of Siberia, but has concessions in Mongolia and for a Mongolian Bank which should give it almost a monopoly in that country. This Bank being more thoroughly under our control than any other should prove the most useful instrument of policy.’ Keyes was certainly thinking on the grand scale, for he continued: ‘We have the right to nominate our own directors to all these banks and to all the companies controlled by them, and Yaroshinski undertakes to place at least 100 young Englishmen in his banks and companies. These banks with their 300 odd branches and their interests in numerous commercial and industrial concerns offer us an unrivalled commercial intelligence system for investigating old and new undertakings. They offer us the means of setting on their feet such of our concerns as have suffered during the disorders, and of 18
THE TRAWLER|December ‘06
handing out loans and other financial interests. There was still another bonus. By controlling this conglomerate of banks, Britain and to a lesser extent the Allies, would exclude the Germans and cripple their attempts to dominate Russia economically. This was a most desirable objective and we see it surface repeatedly as an object of policy. It would be appropriate to describe the scheme that was evolving from all these discussions, without hyperbole, as momentous. It was using banking as an instrument of policy. It was Imperialism on a grand scale and, if the mechanics of the scheme worked, it would have reduced the Russian Empire to the status of a satellite of the British Empire. Keyes had no illusions about the true perspective, writing afterwards that: Over three hundred British officers have been in South Russia during Denikin’s campaign, and, though many may have been disillusioned by the corruption and incompetence which nullified the gallantry and devotion of the original volunteer army, most have been able to see beneath this and to realise, that, with all their failings, these people have been fighting in defence of Christian civilisation against the most damnable evil the world has ever seen, and, incidentally, have been acting as an outpost of the British Empire in the East. It is to the mechanics of the scheme we must now turn, for they were the means by which this goal was to be achieved. The original plan was to provide Yaroshinsky with the finance worth £5,000,000 — or 200,000,000 roubles – at 3 per cent interest. This sum was to be secured by shares in railways, oil, cement, sugar, timber, flax, cotton and coal owned by the banks, most of which were outside Bolshevik control. These shares were worth 350,000,000 roubles. For his part, Yaroshinsky was not merely to
buy the shares, but was to give the British half the seats on the Board of Control. This board was to consist of four members who would control and direct the policy of the banks in accordance with British interests. Yaroshinsky and Pokrevski were to hold two seats and two British representatives would hold the other two. Furthermore, seats on the boards of all the banks involved and all the companies controlled by the banks would also be given to the British. Apart from financing the Confederacy and the Volunteer Army and preventing the Germans from gaining economic hegemony in Russia, there were other far-reaching objectives. These included federating the component nationalities of the Russian Empire thus preventing the break-up of Russia, so maintaining it as a counter balance to the German Empire. In this context it would also provide the machinery for an economic blockade of the Central Powers as future circumstances might dictate. There was also the provision of unlimited opportunities for post-war trade with Russia and for handling Britain’s enormous Government and private financial interests. Keyes summed up the prospects in a despatch to the Foreign Office on 21st January: ‘200,000,000 roubles at present is five and a half million pounds: this could not be regarded as [a] large sum for blocking German schemes and securing such great advantages for British trade even if it were (? given). It is however loan on good security. Our man is willing to deposit with us shares of conservative valuation of 350,000,000 roubles in railways, oil, cement, timber, flax and cotton majority of concerns being in country outside Bolshevik control over banks and their dependent concerns will be wielded by Board consisting of himself, one nominee of his and two of ours. To be continued
WEST HILL LIFE
I
didn’t know this column was supposed to be about my vibrant social life until I read the introduction to my last column by the editor. I don’t have a social life. I live in Hastings for God’s sake. The odd night out in the pub is as exciting as it gets. If you have a social life I want to you to write to me with evidence because I don’t believe you. You couldn’t even be bothered to write in with the answer to my pub quiz question from last time could you? So I’m not terribly hopeful of piles of correspondence appearing at The Trawler’s HQ this time. Something tells me this is going to be a one-way relationship. The answer, if anyone is interested, to which common, purple fruit shares its name with the ornamental shrub Rubus cockburneanus is the blackberry. Yes, the common blackberry’s latin name is Rubus; Rubus fruticosus to be precise. Anyway, the pressure to suddenly find a social life combined with the humungous responsibility of being a columnist has resulted in a debilitating depression that has kept me virtually housebound for the past six weeks. It has taken all my effort to tear myself away from The Ricki Lake Show to write these few humble words for you, dear reader. When I’ve not been watching TV I’ve been sitting staring out of the window for hours on end at the grey, ominous sky, contemplating
how I’ll make it t h r o u g h another day. Until I realised it had been sunny for days and my windows were filthy. And then, as if by magic, a w i n d o w c l e a n e r appeared in our street. I was intrigued because I’ve had a bit of bother with window cleaners in Hastings. The first one I called out was really expensive. When he had finished I noticed there was still seagull shit, some paint spots and some new, unidentified, brown marks that weren’t there before coating my windows. ‘Oh, I don’t clean off things like that,’ he announced. Then he asked if I wanted them done in a month’s time. Eh, no! Not long after I read a letter in the Observer from a disgruntled Hastings resident who had been unable in ten years to find someone to wash her windows well. She had men who were always coming and going and going and coming, and always leaving streaky marks. She was bemused. She pointed out that there was an opportunity for a conscientious, enterprising person to have a very successful business. She just wanted her windows cleaned and she was prepared to pay, generously. I wondered if this new window cleaner in our street would be the answer to all of our prayers. I spotted him up a ladder soaping up my lovely neighbour M across the road. Knowing I had to write something exciting to liven up The Trawler, I decided to seduce him. I brushed my teeth, shaved off my moustache, put on my best low-cut, polka dot dress and sashayed across the road. I realised, since the milkman
disappeared, that I should make a bit more of an effort with my appearance. But that’s another story for another time. The window cleaner was young, had a pretty good body and apart from a few missing teeth didn’t look too bad at all. He said he’d be over to see to me after he’d finished with M. Imagine my surprise when I looked up from my computer to see a pair of geriatric legs, attached to a skinny body, slapping a foaming sponge against my window. It was his decrepit helper — probably his dad — balancing on my window ledge, one floor up. He finished then I heard a knock at the door. He wanted to come inside. He said there was some tape or something stuck to the inside that needed to come off. ‘Oh yeah!’ I thought. Apart from having no teeth at all he wasn’t too bad looking. So I let him in. Before I knew what was happening he was tugging at my muslin curtains. Now I haven’t looked behind those curtains since they went up five years ago. I gave up cleaning the inside of the windows when we started renovating two years ago. Anyway, my desk sits in front of the window and the curtains are always shut, so it seems to me only a mentalist like my mother would clean there. My mother would have had a stroke if she had seen the thick layer of black, minging filth along the window ledge. Unperturbed, he started clambering onto my desk, his little old man bum in far-too-tight shorts waving in the air asking, ‘will this take my weight?’ He grabbed his sponge and splatted dirty, soapy water all over my windows, walls, desk and ceiling. He then scraped half-heartedly at some crusty bits with a razor blade. Five minutes later he dismounted and told me that would be £24. I paid him but was left feeling unsatisfied and slightly ashamed. Later, I noticed he hadn’t bothered to clean one of the bedroom windows. He’s supposed to be coming back to see to me next month. I’ll have to make sure that I’m out. E.E. December ‘06 | THE TRAWLER
19
JAZZ PROFILE — BOBBY WELLINS
A ‘keeper of the flame’ — Bobby Wellins, tenor saxophonist by Brian Morton
BOBBY WELLINS, THE GLASWEGIAN-BORN AND HASTINGS-BASED TENORSAXOPHONIST, HAS BEEN DESCRIBED BY VICTOR SCHONFIELD, WITH SOME JUSTIFICATION, AS ‘PROBABLY THE MOST ORIGINAL AND CREATIVE JAZZ MUSICIAN TO APPEAR OUTSIDE AMERICA SINCE THE WAR. THE TRAWLER’S BRIAN MORTON LOOKS AT THE CAREER OF THIS GROSSLY UNDERRATED ‘JUGGLER OF HARMONY’.
Y
ou’d be hard-pressed to find any real consensus on what was the greatest saxophone solo in American jazz. It’s not a call even passionate fans would be happy to make. Some would press the suit of Coleman Hawkins’ Body and Soul, others might plump for Johnny Hodges, Charlie Parker, Sonny Rollins or maybe John Coltrane. Most would consider the question absurd. Surprisingly, then, there is a pretty complete consensus about the greatest saxophone solo in British jazz, a few minutes of inspired playing which have stood the test of time and become a calling card for its performer. For most British jazz fans, Bobby Wellins’s solo on Starless and Bible Black, from Stan Tracey’s 1965 Under Milk Wood suite is hard-wired into musical memory. Wellins has even been called on to reproduce it in latter-day reprises of the suite, though no-one thinks he’s ever surpassed the original. It established the Scottishborn saxophonist, now living in Hastings, as one of the key voices of what’s now a largely departed generation — Tubby Hayes, Ronnie Scott, Tommy Whittle — and a deep influence on their heirs. 20
THE TRAWLER|December ‘06
What perhaps adds to the mystique is that Wellins has lived his own version of the ‘jazz life’, having spent a large proportion of what should have been his most productive years scuffling on the streets, maintaining a narcotic habit that had a grip on him before Under Milk Wood. For the next two decades, he played and recorded remarkably little. He claims that he used to offer an unofficial guided tour of ‘Bobby's Bogs’, all the public conveniences in Brighton and along the coast which he used to shoot up his heroin. With Bobby, you’re never quite sure where seriousness ends and an even more serious humour begins. He spoke to me frankly about those experiences five years ago, for a Radio Three documentary series on jazz and drugs. One programme ended with Bobby’s heartbreaking revelation that he started to use the stuff not in search of highs or because of peer pressure but because ‘I suddenly realised that I wasn’t ever going to be the best saxophone player on the planet’. Some would say he might have run it close. Recent years — he’s over 70 now — have seen Wellins re-
invigorated, wise, funny and truthful, on and off the stand. Few contemporaries, fewer still of the younger players can invest a solo with such quiet authority and grace. Long after the rest of us are submitting to blood tests and retinal scans to establish our identities, all Wellins will have to do is play a few notes on his tenor saxophone. It’s an instrument that requires much more personal ‘expression’ than any other in the jazz instrumentarium but Wellins is utterly unique and instantly recognisable. His fellowScot and fellow-saxophonist Tommy Smith describes Wellins‚ signature sound as ‘very Scottish, full of air’. ‘Aye, hot air’ is Bobby’s inevitable comeback, but he likes the compliment, and he’s deeply proud of Starless even now. ‘Let me tell you a funny thing that happened. I was watching one of those made-for-tv movies, something about two detectives in LA investigating some complicated case. They were talking about it when suddenly one of them says something about ‘that solo on Starless and Bible Black. I thought I must have been hearing things, but then in the very next scene it’s back in one of these guys’ apartment and there it is playing on the stereo. I got on the phone to Stan straight away, but the whole thing was over in a moment.’ Wellins and Tracey have renewed their relationship on occasion over the years, though Bobby points out that Stan likes to ‘do the right thing’ and diversify the sound he gets from his group. Even so, Under Milk Wood, these days with actor Philip Madoc as narrator, is still a concert favourite, and Bobby’s spot on Starless a highpoint. His affection for it doesn’t lessen the impression that for too many jazz fans, Wellins‚ career peaked forty years ago and hasn’t gone anywhere since. Even a few minutes with the post-comeback catalogue — albums like Birds of Brazil, No Mad and the recent Fun — confound that.
JAZZ PROFILE — BOBBY WELLINS
‘Fun? That’s what we had making it.’ The last time I spoke to Bobby, he was supposed to have been on a quick trip over the Channel to pick up some ‘swag’. Nothing illegal, these days, of course. Long based on the South coast, he was supposed to be driving over to France and Belgium to stock up on ‘swag’, basically good beer and cheap cigarettes, which he still indulges despite a nagging arterial problem in the leg, one small legacy of those ‘lost’ years. It was another mode of transport that had let him down that day, though. The car wouldn’t start so Wellins, who has recently been making up for lost time Consultants — 1
with a busy schedule of performance, was stuck at home. The voice was as vigorous and as pawky as ever, and filled with a kind of delighted wonder at being back at work and being given such a good run. ‘I’ve been working with [bassist] Andrew Clyndert for years and also with [drummer] Spike Wells, who’s actually an Anglican priest, but semi-retired now and playing a lot more again. And then there’s Mark Edwards, he does bread and butter gigs with pop musicians, but he has a studio with a Hammond organ just up the coast here, so the whole Fun thing was put together as ‘Bobby Wellins and the Mark Edwards Trio’. Not my regular group — that’s with Liam Noble, Simon Thorpe and Dave Wickins — this was a chance to indulge some different stuff. I’ve always been a great lover of boogie-woogie — Albert Ammons, Meade Lux Lewis, Pinetop Smith, all that kind of thing — but blended in with some new stuff of my own.’ The new stuff keeps coming. One of Wellins‚ latest passions is the work of James Barke, the Scottish novelist who’s either responsible for some undesirable aspects of the Robert Burns cult or else the poet’s most intuitive biographer, depending on your point of view. Bobby wrote
music for choir, quartet and strings inspired by The Wind That Shakes the Barley, the story of how Robbie’s father, William Burnes(s) struggled with the tacksmen, factors and landlords who kept rural Scotland in a vice-like grip, only winning his case when already on his deathbed. It’s a piece in which Trinity College expressed an early interest, but Bobby also pushed it towards Radio Three, hoping for one of their coveted commission spots. He’s a natural melodist, whose every solo seems to keep in sight of the original line rather than weaving off into harmonic abstractions like some of the younger, perhaps more technically astute but far less musical players who now crowd the scene. Like William and Robert Burns, Wellins worked stony soil himself for many years, throwing away his musical seed corn, watching parts of his talent wither. But he also knows that he won his personal battle well ahead of the Grim Reaper. That broken down car is an ironic reminder of just how reliable the brand new Bobby Wellins has become. ‘Ah, well’, is about as agitated as he’s likely to get these days. B.M. Brian Morton is co-author with Richard Cook of the Penguin Guide to Jazz Recordings, now in its eighth edition, and has also recently published a short biography of Miles Davis (Haus Publishing).
HOW IT ALL
WORKS
Democracy works because politicians strive to mobilise votes in order to stay in power. The adversary system of the Law works because lawyers use every trick in the book to advance their own careers. The Market works because employers struggle to get the greatest income at the least cost to themselves. Such motives drive power and in human terms, it breeds types of people who are shallow and second-rate.
December‘06 | THE TRAWLER
21
GEORGE WOOLL — HASTINGS’ LITHOGRAPHER
George Wooll — Hastings’ lost lithographer by Jenny Ridd
THROUGH
HIS PRINTS,
GEORGE WOOLL
PROMOTED
HASTINGS
AS A FASHIONABLE
RESORT ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY YEARS AGO. IN THE FIRST OF A SERIES OF THREE ARTICLES, JENNY
RIDD TRACES HIS CONNECTIONS WITH THE ARTIST GEORGE ROWE, ANN WHITE. he year was 1825. George Wooll parents were Francis and Sarah, who stepped into the High Street, had five children, all of whom were and eyed the sign over his shop baptised at St. Mary’s church in the doorway with pride. The last two village — Edmund Negus, Francis, years had been extremely hard work, George, (baptised 17 January 1787), but George felt it was worth it, since William, and finally the Woolls were he had achieved what he set out to blessed with a girl, Ann. George grew up on a small farm on do — to open the first Repository of Arts in Hastings. Repositories of Arts Earning Street, where he would have were springing up all round Britain, been expected to help out with the in places like London, Brighton and chores. The Wooll farmstead was Manchester, copying the idea of ninety acres, with a herd of cows for Rudolph Ackermann to sell prints, dairy produce, pigs that William butchered on site, the usual hens for artwork, furniture and fancy goods. Ackermann’s premises at 101 The eggs, and a vegetable plot for family Strand covered four storeys, whereas use. Stylish Elizabethan farms Wooll had only the dining hall and survived along Earning Street at the front parlour of his house at 5 intervals, the largest being opposite High Street in which to display his the Woolls, and owned by Henry goods, so he removed the wall Sweeting, M.P. The Sweetings had between them. He had spent two done well out of the Enclosure Act of years preparing at least ninety 1803, which gave more land to the lithographs, with the help of George rich from which they had larger Rowe, his artist, and had printed yields, yet took the common land most of them in the back room at away from the poor. Quite how George Wooll went No. 5, churning them out in order to have plenty to sell. Demand was from farming into the art world is high, and George Wooll was now another unknown quantity. There was a Grammar School in planning his future success. Wooll had begun life in the tiny Godmanchester, where he would village of Godmanchester just outside have learned basic English, arithmetic Huntingdon, near Cambridge. His and Latin, so perhaps his artistic
AND THE CONVICT
T
22
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talent was discovered there. The next we hear of Wooll is in 1816, when he had opened his own carver’s and gilder’s business in Huntingdon High Street, and had developed an interest in lithography. He was influenced by George Tytler, a London-based artist, and together they began to produce prints, Tytler doing the artwork, and Wooll the printing. Sadly, only two survive. Coincidentally, a print of Huntingdon racecourse is dedicated to Henry Sweeting, George’s neighbour, and the other is to the Earl of Sandwich. (It was this Earl’s grandfather who was the inventor of the sandwich, which enabled him to eat without leaving the gaming tables.) In 1822, aged thirty-five, he married Sarah Burbridge, the nineteen year old daughter of William and Sarah Burbridge, bakers in Huntingdon High Street. In March 1823, the couple moved to Hastings, and rented 5 High Street. Wooll, an ambitious man, had realised that Huntingdon offered him little in the way of advancement, and probably through George Tytler he had kept abreast of the latest news of the ‘boom’ industry of tourism in seaside towns. So he saw, and seized, the opportunity to move on, and began by opening a carver’s and gilder’s business. Hastings had it all. The tourist trade was extremely lively, and it was a place of exquisite beauty and spectacular landscape compared with the flatness of George’s native Fens. And, although Peter Malaperte Powell had been selling prints from his Marine Library on the seafront, there was a distinct gap in the market for a Repository of Arts. Wooll knew that he must lay the foundation for his Repository by producing copious prints, and that meant finding an artist to draw them. Somehow he made an major coup on discovering the Italian immigrant lithographer, Augustine Aglio, in
GEORGE WOOLL — HASTINGS’ LITHOGRAPHER
1824. Possibly it was through Tytler, because the two men had stayed in touch in order for Tytler to design Wooll’s Trade Card, advertising both his skills and his stock. Wooll commissioned Aglio for six views, and never again would he find an artist of such high standards. Aglio was an experienced painter and lithographer who had undertaken major projects in London, and it was probably he who put Wooll in touch with Charles Hullmandel, the leading pioneer printer, and father of lithography. Together, the three men produced an unparalleled set of six quality prints. Ten months later Aglio moved on, and Wooll met George Rowe, a Devonian artist, who was doing the drawings for Peter Powell’s Twenty Six Views of the Picturesque Scenery of Hastings and Its Vicinity. Rowe agreed to work for Wooll, and set about producing at least fifty-two small views entitled Illustrations of Hastings and It’s (sic) Vicinty. Rowe was a good artist, although not in Aglio’s league, and he worked prolifically to ensure that Wooll quickly had a variety of prints to sell. They even formed a publishing partnership for a while. Rowe also drew a set of prints of Sussex, and another showing the ‘watering places’ of Kent. In his two years of working with Wooll, Rowe provided Hastings with a superb legacy before he moved back to his native Exeter in January 1825. The process of lithography had been discovered accidentally by Aloys Senefelder in the late eighteenth century. It involved copying artwork in reverse on to a pre-cut tablet of stone, and putting it through a press where the ink on the roller was repelled by the damp stone, but attracted to the greasy design on it. Today lithographs provide us with a snapshot of Georgian life. We see contemporary artists’ impressions of landscapes, seascapes, townscapes, architecture, employment, fashion, and agriculture. Wooll and Rowe
were very much at the forefront of this movement in print-making, and Rowe eventually set up a Repository of Arts too, in Cheltenham, using the experience Wooll had given him. Having established his print-base, Wooll opened his Repository. He sold prints, stationery, paintings, drawings, screens, mirrors and Tunbridgeware, as well as continuing his carving and gilding business. The Corporation of Hastings asked him to re-gild a frame, for which he charged fourteen shillings.
George Wooll
Wooll advertised his Repository as a meeting place for members of the Watercolour Society. In 1825 J.M.W. Turner visited Hastings to complete Shipwreck Off Hastings, and he probably visited the Repository in order to replenish his stock, and meet fellow Watercolour Society members. The same was true of William Westhall, Peter De Wint, and Clarkson Stanfield. Wooll’s Repository would have been a thriving hub around which the artists gathered. Meanwhile, there were setbacks. In 1824 a disreputable woman from the ‘lower order’, named Ann White, stole three packs of cards from the shop. Sarah Burbridge and her sister Anne, witnessed the crime, but it was George who prosecuted and saw
justice done. Then in 1826 Louisa Cheale, the servant, removed several articles from the shop and hid them in her room. Another servant reported her and yet again George prosecuted, although records of the outcome are lost. In 1824 Wooll decided to write a guidebook, which he entitled Picture of Hastings – A Series of Letters from a Cosmopolite to a Valitudinarian (travellers and invalids). It was an aptly named, rather quirky little pocket book which contained ‘an account of different walks and rides, from the author’s own personal observations.’ The format consisted of a visitor to Hastings describing to his friend the popular locations, such as Old Roar, the Dripping Well and Ecclesbourne Glen. Throughout, Wooll’s delightful sense of humour is noticeable, as are his occasional lapses in Latin grammar! By this time George and Sarah had two children, Isabelle and George, and were financially successful enough to have bought 5 High Street from Edward and Sarah Milward, their previous landlords. Business continued to expand, and in 1829 Wooll produced the last item for his tourist package — a map with the favourite scenic spots in and around Hastings. Next he undertook to publish George Rubie’s The Celestial Atlas, a ‘complete Guide to knowledge of the Heavenly Bodies’. Wooll was interested in science as well as art, and this was very much a part of his well-rounded character. Rubie was known in Hastings as a Professor of Mathematics, Astronomy, the Globe and Navigation, and the Celestial Atlas was an individual attempt to demonstrate a complicated subject. Today it is in Hastings Museum, complete with all its moving parts. In 1831 Wooll became a freeman of Hastings, along with one hundred and fourteen other men, thus allowing them all to vote. Voting still came as a privilege, not a right, December ‘06 | THE TRAWLER
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GEORGE WOOLL — HASTINGS’ LITHOGRAPHER
although the Reform Bill of 1832 went further to democratise the franchise. It was an ongoing struggle in Britain to break the stranglehold of the rich. Georges Wooll and Rubie became founder members of the Hastings Literary and Scientific Institute, which opened 3 February 1832 in Rubie’s rooms at 1 Burdett Place, George Street. This was a cultural leap forward for a town that still had no public library or museum. Membership was £1 11s 6d. The Institute was a great success and lasted sixty-three years, with its most notable member being Gideon Mantell, whose wife discovered the first fossil of the Iguanadon. Probably Mantell had lectured to the Institute, and was given complimentary membership in return. Trade had gone into decline in Hastings after the washing away in a storm of the old harbour two centuries earlier. Several abortive schemes had come and gone, but nothing daunted, George Wooll joined the Hastings Harbour Survey Committee somewhere between 1832 and 1835, and drew with his own design for a new harbour. The design survives in the Museum, and looks like a rather scratchy sketch. Sadly, costs rose and Hastings never did get its new harbour. By 1833 Wooll’s success overwhelmed him. He outgrew the premises at 5 High Street, and although he did not sell it, he moved into 43 High Street, where he produced his second guidebook, Wooll’s Stranger’s Guide to Hastings, a more conventional one than his first. It certainly had more readership appeal, and was safe and welcoming. The first edition also contained a section written by William Henry Fitton, an esteemed member of the prestigious Geological Society in London. It fitted in well with current public interest in all things scientific, geological and historic. Later Fitton’s section was omitted, because, as 24
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Fitton himself explained, his part had ‘been insensibly extended to greater length’. The Duchess of Kent and the Princess Victoria visited Hastings in 1834, and Wooll marked the occasion by asking J. Thorpe to produce a commemorative drawing from which Wooll then printed a lithograph. Wooll might, or might not, have celebrated the royal visit, for between 1830 and 1837 disaster struck, and Sarah died. Her fifth child, Sarah, was born in 1830, and
between then and 1837 no records exist. We only know that Sarah died because George remarried in 1837. It is possible that she died in childbirth, but whatever happened the heart went out of him, and any extensions to his enterprises ceased. His old friends Georges Rowe and Tytler visited him in 1830, and left him some drawings of the new St. Leonards. It is possible that they had visited to attend Sarah’s funeral, if indeed she died in Hastings. Sarah’s death record has never been found in either Hastings or Huntingdon, so her burial remains a mystery.
Aged fifty, George took on a new wife, Harriot McCormick, and they, plus Isabelle, Francis, George, John, and little Sarah, emigrated to Canada, George having sold 5 High Street. No reason is known for their emigration other than that thousands were escaping the devastating conditions of both agriculture and the Industrial Revolution in Britain. Perhaps Wooll was returning to his farming roots, and wanted to acquire land in Canada. If he was hoping to sell lithographs there, he was taking a big risk in a country where survival was more important than hanging pictures on the wall, and where the Corps of Engineers were the only people producing prints. The mystery deepens, and the tale of George Wooll ends anticlimatically. After a quick search of the Canadian records, no mention of George Wooll can be found. Neither his name, nor his male children’s names, have been traced. It seems such an ignominious ending for a man of such dynamism, vitality, and enterprise. If walls could talk, then 5 High Street could celebrate the achievements and successes of George Wooll and his Repository of Arts. 43 High Street suffered a different fate, though. In May 1943 enemy action destroyed the building totally. No original part of the shop or house remains to yield up its secrets. J.R. Human Resources Manager
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MEMORIES OF HASTINGS
Hastings, my Hastings! by George Melly
A
t the moment I suffer from dementia, a total lack of memory, of time and space. I often forget gigs from the past, and forget names, places and faces including my wife of 45 years. However, when I arrive at the place we’re playing I quite often know it immediately, at other times not. Hastings, however, is an exception. Here, while fragmentary, my recollections are clear. I’ve played there many times over the years and am, therefore, in a position to wander down memory lane. First and foremost was my friendship with a surrealist painter called John Banting whose earlier work is distinguished by a fine satirical sense. He had become a great friend of one of Britain’s leading painters, Edward Burra, and they spent a great deal of their friendship wandering through the ‘Old Town’ where young people congregated in great numbers. In his old age Burra became addicted to dope smoking. Banting to looking with longing but no capacity to put it into
practise, at handsome lads. We corresponded quite a lot, indeed he made me, together with Roland Penrose, his executor. I asked him if he was still sexually active and he replied ‘Alas no. Now I can only fuck with my eyes.’ I used to sing regularly between semi-retiring from the jazz world and joining John Chilton, with a band who played a nearby caravan park. Burra, whose sharp eye for the absurd was also, insofar as I know, impotent due to his enormous spleen, observed all. He also had the ability, while still looking eccentric, to blend in with whatever background he found himself. The boss of the club, given over to those frilled white shirts, which were dyed along their outer edges by various bright colours, was tolerant and welcoming. His wife pleased Burra immensely. She liked to shop at Biba’s, but discovered as she got rather plumper that they had nothing in her size except shoes. These she bought in huge quantities. Burra whispered to
me — I could still hear quite well then — ‘She wants you to look at her feet dearie — they are small.’ He delighted also in a woman who sang nostalgic numbers, mainly of the Great War period, such as ‘Pack up your troubles'... Burra spoke in what his generation called ‘cockney slang’. He had been a member, briefly, of the surrealist movement — not on the whole his best period, but he left ‘because I didn’t like to be told what to do dearie’. Of course I played many other jobs in Hastings — dance halls, cinemas, theatres and even the end of the pier. John Banting, who was very good looking in a broken-nosed sort of way, was extremely popular among the gay fringe of the upper classes, and indeed one of them left him an annuity, yet he was merciless in satirising their more absurdly fashionable behaviour. He published an extremely amusing work called The Blue Book of Conversation in which absurd creatures gave vent to their more idiotic attitudes. He was also an alcoholic in later days and produced nothing but scribbles. He had a regular boyfriend, as determined a drunk as he was. This man, whom I always thought — as he said so little — to be of Scottish origin, was indeed, originally, a fisherman from Dorset. Banting, at the suggestion of Penrose offered us a choice of two pictures... he had hardly any room on his walls for the rest of his brilliant collection. Banting left everything to his companion of many years. Earlier, Roland and I went down together to sort through the mess of Banting’s flat. Rubbish — of which there was a great deal, and would have done his reputation no good — we tore up. We came across a rather good portrait of his lover when he was young and handsome and was present in the studio, a bottle of Haig in his hand. We offered it to James who mumbled, ‘No! Sell everything’. Soon after he went into an old people’s home on state support and unwilling o December ‘06 | THE TRAWLER
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Figure With Heart, John Banting (1930)
MEMORIES OF HASTINGS
commune with any of the old people in the residence. The only thing of real value was a large book called Negro, published and selected by Nancy Cunard, so as not to have the Customs and Excise people aware of it. When he went too, he mysteriously left his hidden gains to my children whom I don’t think he had ever met, but they were more than delighted to receive — and it was a long time ago — £7000 each. John was extraordinarily loyal to those who had degenerated into wrecks. Nancy Cunard for instance, and Brian Howard who had fulfilled none of his promise, but was incredibly impertinent and funny also died in John’s arms. One thing Banting could do brilliantly was caricatures or indeed straight portraits for books — Brian Howard’s biography Portrait of a Failure for one. The thirties were the age of Epstein, Gertrude Stein and Einstein. Someone who had no love of these three wrote a very amusing dismissal of them. It went: ‘ There’s a wonderful family named Stein, there’s Ep, there’s Gert, and there’s Ein. Ep’s statues are junk, Gert’s poems are bunk, and nobody understands Ein. Indeed, to start with, Epstein’s work was to be found in the basement of Louis Tussaud’s waxworks in Blackpool. Then there was a ‘reassessment’ and most of them found their way to the Tate Gallery. I suppose that some according to the philistinism of the time were simply shocking. Now, however, although I have no love of his heavily finger and thumb 26
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indented heads of various eminent people, you can find them almost everywhere, .including in Pere Lachaise cemetery, where his monument to Oscar Wilde still stands. It is a head and shoulders, rather Egyptian in influence, attached to a lion’s body. At some point, however, the Parisian authorities objected to Oscar’s penis and balls which, the last time I visited many years ago, was covered by an absurd fig leaf. The connection with Hastings is that I believe, a copy of Rodin’s Kiss (Epstein’s chief influence) was offered to Hastings Borough Council. It is a highly erotic piece showing two lovers kissing and embracing. I understand that the then extremely puritanical Council turned it down on the grounds of obscenity. I bet their children and grandchildren are kicking their ancestors in these more permissive days. It is also irresistible to caress, and there are several replicas because at that time marble was extremely expensive and it was decided to make several reproductions in a synthetic material which, nevertheless, is indistinguishable from marble itself. Hastings — its old town fortifications against Napoleon and a belief in the caricatures of Gilray in a fat and jolly John Bull, a great joint of beef to hand, mocking a starving Napoleon — is full of things worth looking at. G.M. Edward John Burra John Banting (1930s)
Table Talk by M.A.D.
W
inter is creeping in and with it the need for warming food. Not having had much luck with the local eateries so far I decided to concentrate on food suppliers, just in case there will be more eating in than out. The first indispensable winter ingredient must be the potato. No problem there. Look no further than the aptly named Potato Shop which sells its 12 varieties of home grown potatoes directly to the consumer via their honesty stall on site, various farmer’s markets including your very own Hastings one (every second Thursday) and box schemes. Trinity Foods stocks their organic varieties and local restaurateurs would do well to investigate this local producer who delivers on a daily basis. I could fill this column with potato talk, such was the welcome, knowledge and enthusiasm of Tom Lewis, the man behind it all. I won’t, but I will give you the varieties to choose from (I tried them all and found fault with none). There are the Organic Nicola and Lady Balfour. The first is greatly loved by children (always a bonus) and doesn’t really need peeling. A good scrub will do. The second will give you divine mash. You have the choice between four general purpose varieties: the Marris Piper, the Wilja, the Estima, which is a great baker and the Claret Red. The two big traditional ‘English’ potatoes, the
FOOD
King Edward and the Pink Fir Apple will give those of you old enough to remember the pre-supermarket era that authentic potato taste. The Charlotte (great salad potato), the Claret Red and the Cherry Red are much appreciated by ‘red potato’ lovers. The first one stays nice and firm and is soft yellow when cooked, the second is similar to the Desiree, grown in this country for decades and the last one comes out quite white and floury. And then... there is the Adora. The plant breeders who produced this variety claim that it contains about a third less carbohydrate than other potatoes. Pre-Christmas diet? No need to avoid this potato, which can be boiled, mashed and baked. Now that you’ve decided to buy local, bypassing the middle men who rob producers of an honest, hard-earned pound; a few tips to get the best life out of your potato: buy UNWASHED, NEVER store potatoes in a plastic bag, keep them dark, dry and cold. The Hastings’ Seafood & Wine Festival managed to surprise, delight and intrigue the large number of visitors, many of whom had not ventured as far as the Old Town on previous visits. Old Town stick to your guns and provide loads more space next year. One little niggle, and this one is aimed at the organisers, albeit accompanied by applause for the success it undoubtedly was. Advertising! On the week-end in question, both the Guardian and Times did a food supplement with mile-long listings of food festivals all over the country. Sadly, the Hastings' Seafood & Wine Festival appeared in neither! Nor was it included in the Food Festivals & Events calendar, produced by the South East Food Group Partnership (Ltd) who support the ‘buy local’ campaign. Visit www.buylocalfood.co.uk for further festivals and details of local producers. Because wires got crossed with Trinity Foods (those things do
happen) and because they just celebrated their 21st anniversary as a Workers Co-Operative, which means profits are re-invested in the company and don’t land up swelling the coffers of the board members) I thought it right to give them another mention. All the more so since they offer a box scheme making your vegetable shopping a lot easier. (ready for pick-up on Fridays). For such a tiny shop, they stock a remarkable range of products and it is well worth having a natter to the staff who will be glad to share their knowledge (or if something more specific is needed they will access the supplier's helpline) and cookery tips. With Christmas just around the corner, and the inevitable guest with dietary sensitivities you may wish to take a look at their gluten-free mince pies, Christmas cakes and puddings. All have the Soil Association’s stamp of approval. Also worth knowing is that Trinity Foods are able (and willing) to provide products in bulk quantities (10 per cent discount for unsplit cases). It would not be right not to share a discovery I made on my last visit — Goji Berries: Goji Berries are reported to contain 18 Amino acids (six times higher than bee pollen), more Beta Carotene than carrots, more Iron than spinach, and 21 Trace Minerals. They also contain Vitamin B1, B2, B6, and Vitamin E (rarely found in fruits) and more Vitamin C by weight than oranges! They are 13 per cent protein and contain extremely high levels of antioxidants. Tibetan Medicine includes these berries in the treatment of kidney and liver problems. They are also used to lower cholesterol and blood pressure and to cleanse the blood. Get a packet and start nibbling or soak in juice and sprinkle on your morning cereal. Got invited to Pisarro’s for lunch. Liane Carroll, as usual, lifted the spirits and the place was packed. Full
marks for friendly, efficient service. We shared an assortment of snacks, all carefully prepared and well presented, didn’t leave a crumb from an interesting and varied bread basket and the near perfect espresso set us up for the walk home through the pouring rain. Had a good read of the restaurant menu and will definitely go back to sample that. As pub grub goes, one of the best so far. Another near perfect coffee can be found in the Poor Boy’s Café. You can see local artists’ exhibits, go for interesting music or you can play chess with the owner. You can even order a snack which will be prepared from scratch. An unpretentious, comfortable drop-in sort of a place. An apology to those of you who expected to find Bubble & Squeak on the Filo menu. It isn’t, although it has been a ‘Special’ on the odd occasion. Expecting to consume large quantities of beer over the festivities? Why not order a cask of their ‘in-house’ brewed beer? M.A.D. The Potato Shop Morghew Park Estate Smallhythe Road, Tenterden 01580 766 866 www.thepotatoshop.com Daily 8:00 — 20:00 Trinity Food 3 Trinity Street, Hastings 01424 721 425 09:00-17:30 Mon-Sat Pisarro’s South Terrace, Hastings 01424 421 363 Poor Boy’s 91/92 Queen s Road (opposite Morrison s) Filo 14-15 High Street, Hastings 01424 425 079 The underlying assumption of many protestors is that the scoundrels they are protesting against are actually listening
December ‘06 | THE TRAWLER
27
FICTION
The Man on the Donkey by Pauline Melville
M
rs Norma Davenport’s thin lips formed one sharp line. The tiny cracks of age above and below her lips made it seem as if her mouth was sewn up with very fine sutures. The widow stood in the dock of Lewes Crown Court, composed and quiet, a small neat figure in a trim grey suit. Some of her neighbours had sneaked upstairs into the public gallery hoping she wouldn’t notice. They were used to seeing her in one of her small felt hats shopping at Tesco’s. Now she was bare-headed as they looked down on her silver waved hair which all of them knew was done weekly at ‘Janey’s hairdressing salon. To their discomfiture she looked up with a shrewd expression in her eyes and nodded ‘good morning to them as they shuffled into their seats. Norma Davenport’s arrest had caused a furore in St. Leonards-onSea. She lived in one of the bungalows on the coastal road. She was seventyone years old and a regular attendant at the local methodist church. At church functions and fêtes Norma Davenport’s cakes were the most sought after. People joked that she always witheld one crucial piece of information when she told them the recipe. She didn’t say exactly how much flour to use or when to add the lemon zest, or she left out that a pinch of salt should be added: 28
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‘I don't give away my secrets.’ She said with a smile. You people must work that out for yourselves.’ Many residents regarded her as a minor celebrity because she contributed regularly to The Ladies' Home Journal a magazine which had its editorial base in Hastings nearby. She wrote a cookery column for them and every month she delivered a short story under the heading ‘Snapshots’. The arrest itself had been a shock to the community but it was the nature of the charges that made people sit up, in their homes, in cafés, in the waiting rooms of dental surgeries, in their beds and look at each other in disbelief. Norma Davenport was charged with glorifying terrorism. A grey light from the high windows filtered through into the stuffy courtroom. That and the slowness of the proceedings gave the impression that the whole event was taking place underwater. Norma Davenport gave a discreet yawn behind her hand. Exhibit A was the only exhibit. The jury were each handed a copy of The Ladies Journal, issue 213, June, 2006, and asked to turn to page thirty-seven. On page thirty-seven was a story entitled ‘The Man on a Donkey.’ The court was adjourned for an hour to give the jury time to read it. Norma waited downstairs in the cells with her solicitor and her barrister. Her
barrister, a busy man who had barely looked at his brief, read the story thoroughly for the first time. He flicked to page thirty-seven. The Man on a Donkey by Norma Davenport The holy leader had reached the cave in the only way possible by donkey over a mountain trail. The donkey, laden with panniers, stumbled and sent showers of pebbles and scree down below as it made its way up the steep mountainside. His followers were anxious lest the dust clouds gave them away and hurried the animals inside the cave. The holy man himself, however, sat down on a big rock outside. The cave entrance looked out over an enormous expanse of white desert, the arid monotony broken only by a scattering of small boulders and heaps of cattle bones for some twenty miles until the mountain range opposite reared up out of nowhere. Brown foothills were clearly visible from where he sat. Great purple shadows sculpted the hillside and a powdering of snow obscured the mountain tops. He shook some of the grit from his sleeves. His white robes and headwrap were travel-soiled and streaked with dust, as was his long beard. Further back in the cave, where a small tunnel opened out into yet another darker cave, his companions had lit a fire and set about preparing a meal. He took in a deep breath. God appeared to him to be everywhere: in the landscape, in the majestic hills, the sweep of emptiness before him, even in the lizard that sat by his side. Never had he felt so clear-headed. Now that the might of a huge empire was ranged against him as well as a rag-tag and bobtail army of more local enemies, his faith made him feel both calm and invincible. There was little he could do except relax and wait. Fate, or God’s will was now moving faster than human planning. He watched as a caravan of tiny human figures made its way east on the plains below. It was at
FICTION
nights that his own stomach betrayed him, shot through with lightning pains as he imagined the manner of his death. Betrayal was inevitable, almost certainly from one of his current followers. But it would be his death, his martyrdom that would bring about the fulfillment of God’s will and the eventual downfall of the enemy, for all their military skills and the worldwide grip of their administration. He took off one sandal and examined a blister on the side of his big toe. Then he levered himself up and hobbled further inside the cave. As he looked up a cascade of shale fell on him from the roof of the cave and some dust went in his eye. He smiled. It was written in the Holy Scriptures: Go to the cave for shelter and God will extend to you His mercy and prepare for you a means of safety. He wiped his eye with some of the cloth from his robe. He was prepared either for death or to be put on trial. Or both. The others were calling him to eat in the interior of the second cave. Wood smoke had blackened the pale walls. One short stocky man with a grizzled black beard tried to waft away the smoke,ensuring that none would come out of the main cave entrance and give a sign to the enemy. He had given all his wealth to the cause and chosen to live in poverty. Now he could not resist boasting to the others about his sacrifice: ‘Well this is a change in my circumstances from last year when I was living the high life.’ He chuckled as he waved his hand round at the grim walls of his new abode. The leader limped to sit on the floor next to him and took a piece of the roasted goat on offer: Have faith in God and fight for His cause with your wealth.’ There was something about the leader’s dark eyes, a depth of wisdom, that made the man feel abashed about his boasting and he lowered his head as he ate. The leader continued:
‘Besides, you are well out of there. I told you once before that the towers of the traders would be brought down stone by stone. A glorious action in the name of God.’ The men around the fire laughed and their shadows flickered back and forth on the walls of the cave. Many hundreds of miles away the General studied a map on the table in front of him. There were insurrections in more than one area. Now he had been obliged to return home to report to the senate. Like most of the military elite he had studied the classic battles of history. In fact, only the previous evening he had attended a performance of The Trojan Women by Euripides with his wife and one of his daughters. The set had shown the burning towers of Troy and one line of the text struck him with particular force, a line about the vessel that was sent to glide, weighty with hidden death, through the walls of the city. To his annoyance his daughter had slept nearly all the way through the play. For a moment, his thoughts turned to his disappointment with his children. His four daughters cared for nothing but partying and entertainment. He tried to dismiss these thoughts as he bent to examine the map more closely. He bit his lip. The problem now was not a major attack by another nation. There was no nation on earth equipped to do that. Now the problem was these less organised insurrections in various parts of the empire which were whipped up by religious leaders and made it easy for opportunistic vandals to attack. One particular religious leader had gathered an ominous number of followers and was destabilising the region. There was no doubt in the general’s mind that the man was a rebel, a terrorist and a threat to the empire. It would be the local commanders who would have to control the insurgents, commanders who were bought and owned by his
own country. He sat down and drafted instructions for the military to kill or capture the fugitive terrorist at all costs. That done, he signed the papers and stamped them with the Eagle. The same iron Eagle looked down on him from above the forty foot high door frame as he walked through with brisk steps to deliver his report to the senate. In the caves, after they had prayed together, the fugitive leader said to his followers: ‘Empires will come and go. Our faith is eternal. I am the chosen instrument of God.’ ‘It’s very short. I’m not sure what it’s about.’ Said one of the jury members in the jury room, turning the pages over in his hand to see if there was more. A woman who was also on the panel whispered to him: ‘Actually, I must say that I once saw a photo of the Turin Shroud and the face on it looked just like Osama bin Laden. But don't tell anyone I said so. At that moment the jurors were called back to the courtroom. The defence barrister rose to his feet to question Mrs Davenport. Mrs. Davenport stood in the dock composed and with a slight air of mischief about her. The barrister was a rubicund man in his forties whose confidence bordered on arrogance. He looked around the court: ‘I think this misunderstanding can be cleared up very quickly. The charge of glorifying terrorism is clearly ridiculous. You yourself are a devout church-goer, are you not, Mrs. Davenport? Would you please confirm that the character of the fugitive leader depicted in this story is Jesus Christ and that you never intended to glorify Osama bin Laden? Norma Davenport took a deep breath and cleared her throat: ‘It’s the same as with my cake recipes. I don’t give away my secrets. You people must work that out for yourselves.’ P.M. December ‘06 | THE TRAWLER
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BOOKS
Books The rape of socialism. How Labour lost the millenium, Donovan Pedelty, Prometheus Press, pp 506, p/b £7.00 (ISBN:0952999307) This is an important book. Not on account of its length, of nearly five hundred pages, although if Pedelty had left any gaps there would be a rush of nit-pickers to point out that there, precisely, were the holes in his argument. Instead he protects his flanks with an elegant run-through of how we got to where we are from where we were. A hundred years ago, socialist thinking, in tune with the rising tide of labour protest, presented a serious challenge to the capitalist hegemony. However much they differed over ultimate objectives and how to reach them, the socialists of the late nineteenth century were at one in their conviction that individualistic capitalism would have to be overcome to establish a just and sane society. They were equally certain that the huge advances in productive capacity which capitalism had helped to bring about, by proving that poverty could be abolished, had made such a transformation possible, immediately, or at least within, the near future. So what went wrong? This wide-ranging, fascinating and sometimes darkly humorous anarchist critique, explores the answer to this question through a study of the development of socialism during the last hundred years or so, focusing principally on the British labour movement since WWII. Within the framework of what apologists for capitalism have always dismissed as ‘utopian visions’ but which socialists have shown to be realisable, this book traces, in Part
30
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One, the development in Britain — through the jockeying for power of the bourgeois political parties — of ‘fully representative democracy’, while highlighting the contradiction between this development and their commitment to capitalism. Part Two analyses the reasons why the party formed to challenge the dominance of capital failed to use that ‘democratic power’ to give the people social justice — and ultimately capitulated to capitalism. The first hundred pages deal with the Conservative Party and where it came from, right up to the hijacking at the beginning of the 1970s by a cabal of largely lumpenbourgeois (lower ‘middle class’) elements. His account of that party’s origins is detached and free of bombast, however cynical and scoundrelly his subjects were. They are all here, the Salisburies and the Churchills, Burke and Bagehot, Peel and Disraeli. Those of us who are not historians are led through the minuets and gavottes of the ruling elites in lucid style. We learn that the Conservative Party never trafficked in ideology or was ever much taken with ideas. What it was about was always power. Promise anything, get elected, and do what you want. A week is a long time in politics. Parliament never did deal much in policies or ideas and the Tories have never had any, with the exception of Thatcher’s and that was pinched. The scenario, with Labour getting the message and pinching the Tories’ idea, i.e. not to have any idea, has caused anguish and confusion in Lord North Street. The ‘Gentlemen’s Party’, devoted to ‘property and paternalism’ had been taken over by the offspring of small traders and professionals who had made it to grammar school and thence to Oxbridge, and the public school lot were elbowed aside. The new lot were just as keen on getting some property, but were not so worried about paternalism. The other four-fifths, and more important part, of the book deals with the Labour Party and its background,
but particularly and in detail with its post-World War II history. For those who lived through the period, it is salutary to be reminded of the follies and buffooneries, the clowns and the arseholes who strutted their Andy Warhol ‘fifteen minutes of fame’. For those who weren't around, the book is a valuable corrective to the official version in helping them to make sense of our little bit of the world. Pedelty’s inspiration is Kropotkin. But unlike some anarchists, he is not lairy of the slog of trying to find out just how the rip-off takes place, and he does it without the brain-deadening and thought-excluding pseudoMarxist jargon that often accompanies otherwise worthy efforts. Pedelty’s evidence makes uncomfortable reading for apologists of all the major parties. Tories were responsible for as may reforms as Labour. They drafted the Education Act, making higher education a possibility for the workers. They had anticipated the Welfare State in the late 1930s, and the groundwork was supplied by William Beveridge, a Liberal. They were all for consensus, just as Whigs and Tories had been a hundred years earlier, and he quotes Hazlitt: ‘rival stagecoaches splashing each other with mud but travelling by the same road to the same destination’. And from those same Whigs (whose laissez-faire creed was exhumed by Thatcher and Co.) to the Labour Party of our time, none of them wanted to allow the people control over their own lives. From Bagehot, who feared that competing before the swinish multitude for support might cause Whigs and Tories to lose control over them, to Labour's stagemanaging of its conference so as to keep out unwelcome voices, a lid has been kept over things. Pedelty’s conclusions, entitled ‘Hope Deferred’, are that while Labour might abandon all commitment to pseudo-socialism ‘without serious damage; it cannot, without dishonour, desert the cause of social justice’. But if
BOOKS
political power excludes the possibility of social justice, what then? If a market economy (controlled or free), depends upon unemployment (the reserve army), and relative scarcity (otherwise glut and collapse), not to mention other integral features like war preparation (the continuation of diplomacy by other means), and crime (the most efficient way of pursuing self-interest), how can we hope for social justice? This surely is what it is all about. A system is a system is a system, not a group of unrelated particles. They function as a unit or not at all. Systems have their built-in homeostasis, their self-guiding mechanism, their negative feedback. like the bail-valve on my lavatory flush, or the thermostat on the radiator. Interfere with them and you will be flooded or the boiler could blow up. But Pedelty knows all this. We all know there is a paradox. Systems can only change all-of-a-piece because what we are talking about is not things but the relations between them. So what do we do meanwhile? Life must go on, life will go on because of what we are, human beings, and we will defend our corner as best we can. But if we try to square the circle, to make the system behave other than how it can behave, we shall repeat the tragicomedy of Labour during the last hundred years. Pedelty goes back for an answer to earlier figures who saw clearly that trying to reform the system or AHEM — In this time of war against Osama Bin Laden and the oppressive Taliban regime...
introduce follow-my-leader solutions were doomed from the start and concludes that we must choose: ‘Fighting on to re-ignite, regenerate, re-propagate those brave ideals dreamed by the utopian heralds of a new society.’ This is the story of how Labour lost the Millenium. K.S. Hegemony or Survival — America’s quest for global dominance, Noam Chomsky, Hamish Hamilton, pbk £9.00 (ISBN 0-241142504 ) This book is a valuable addition to the expanding lexicon of what’s gone wrong with international diplomacy and modern life, and how the likes of you and I are being deceived by our so-called elected representatives and their friends in big business who actually run everything. If you want to get a flavour of where Chomsky’s coming from you need go no further than one significant paragraph from the middle of the book :‘What remains of democracy is largely the right to choose among commodities. Business leaders have long explained the need to impose on the population a ‘philosophy of futility’ and ‘lack of purpose in life’, to ‘concentrate human attention on the more superficial things that comprise much of fashionable consumption’. Deluged by such propaganda from
infancy, people may then accept their meaningless and subordinate lives and forget ridiculous ideas about managing their own affairs. They may abandon their fate to corporate managers and the PR industry and, in the political realm, to the selfdescribed ‘intelligent minorities’ who serve and administer power.’ There in a nutshell you have what ails Britain and the USA, the apathy and inertia which prevents ordinary people from taking control and exercising real democracy — something our ‘elected’ leaders and unelected bureaucrats and CEOs are actually terrified of happening. There is nothing particularly original in Chomsky’s book, it’s largely a rehash of some of his previous work and information that has appeared in the independent media or is buried in the inside pages of journals read by policy wonks and other specialists. That said, the book is a useful précis as to how the USA and its client states which do its dirty work (like the UK & Israel) got us into the current international mess. How funds (that’s your tax money) were originally used to support Saddam Hussein to fight Iran and suppress his own people, and the precursors of Al Qaeda were trained and armed to take on the Russians in Afghanistan. Now our former allies have turned on us, more funds (that’s more of your taxes) are spent on killing them and then paying multinationals to rebuild what we’ve destroyed (again, with more of your money) — you couldn’t make it up!. Ted Newcomen
We are thankful that OUR leader isn’t the spoiled son of a powerful politician from a wealthy oil family who is supported by religious fundamentalists, operates through clandestine organisations, has no respect for the democratic electoral process, bombs innocents, and uses war to deny people their civil liberties AMEN.
This is the last time you say Grace, Boy.
December ‘06 | THE TRAWLER
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LETTERS TO THE EDITOR
Letters Jenkins...best liar ever questioned? From: Gary Brady, Wimborne, Dorset Dear Sir: Read your publication with great interest, especially the Sion Jenkins story. The one aspect of this story that I recall whenever mentioned, is the story my father once told me, who at the time of the case drank socially with a member of Hastings CID, he told my father that the officers who questioned Jenkins mentioned he was the best liar they had ever questioned, and that he would get away with it. Gary Brady The justiceforjenkins file (email us in confidence) Domain name: justiceforsionjenkins.org.uk Registrant: CFJ Registrant type: UK Entity Registrant’s address: CFJ, 112 Malling Street, Lewes, East Sussex. BN7 2RJ, GB Registrant’s agent: No agent listed. Domain registered directly with Nominet. Relevant dates: Registered on: 06-Apr-1999 Renewal date: 06-Apr-2007 Last updated: 01-Nov-2006 Registration status: Registered until renewal date. 14 companies are listed at this address: BRANNIGAN PUBLISHING SOUTHDOWN MOTOR SERVICES LTD. STAGECOACH EAST KENT LTD TOPCENTRE LTD. UNITED DRYLINING LTD. CAREWATCH CLIFFE ENTERPRISES INFACOM LTD. K C FINANCIAL SOFTWARE KULT DISTRIBUTIONS LTD MALCOMMS SERVICES LTD MORTGAGE OPTIONS (SOUTH EAST) LTD PEBBLESHORE LTD. SHARPTON LTD
The Da Vinci/Rennes Con (HT No. 5) From Jean-François Lhuillier, Mayor of Rennes-le-Château Dear Sir: After six years researching in archives and libraries, we have added new documents to the ‘Saunière file’: a letter from Marie Dénarnaud to the taxman, her will, a court document from Limoux and the details of her income in 1939. We can also tell for the first time what was found in the curé’s tomb while it was being relocated. A document registered before the 32
THE TRAWLER|December ‘06
clerk of the court in Limoux on 21 April 1917 tells us that the descendants, brothers and sisters of Abbé François Bérenger Saunière, curé of the parish of Rennes-le-Château, who had died on 17 January 1917, refused their inheritance. The estate never reverted to Marie Dénarnaud. In fact, no one laid claim to the estate where the Dénarnaud family lived. Note that I say the ‘Dénarnaud family’. The father and mother looked after the estate, and paid the necessary taxes. As a result of the so-called trentenaire (30 year) principle of French law, the property should, thirty years after its renunciation by the heirs, have fallen automatically to Marie Dénarnaud, the sole survivor of the family. The holograph will of Marie Dénarnaud, signed in 1946, and valid for one year, does not respect the trentenaire principle and is, therefore null and void. It should nonetheless be noted that, during this period, Marie paid the Public Treasury property taxes on both the buildings and the undeveloped land. In 1939 that amounted to some 2,000 francs (of the day). These documents tell us two things: that Marie Dénarnaud was almost illiterate, which pours cold water on the supposedly impassioned correspondence she is alleged to have had with Saunière. The second thing is that, in 1939, certain people were paying significant sums of money to Marie Dénarnaud, but why remains a mystery. Neither the abbé nor Marie, had money of their own. The abbé died owing money to the greengrocer — we have evidence of that. Saunière was a man of the church, someone who was both deeply spiritual and caught up in a spiral of expenditure on his building works. The money he spent on the building works had nothing to do with the commune, because he had no money of his own. He was given money by outsiders, just as Marie Dénarnaud was. This money came
from people involved in the royalist movement that wanted to merge the Languedoc and Roussillon with Catalonia. Saunière was actively involved in this movementd uring the years 1880-1890. The people that the abbé helped also helped him financially with the cost of his building works. The stories about what was found when Saunière’s remains were moved were pure nonsense. The transfer of his remains took place in the presence of a lawyer, a bailiff and a police officer. When the tomb was opened everything was absolutely as it should be. The priest had been buried alone; his skeleton was perfectly normal and he had a missal on his chest, clutched between his hands. The bailiff took all the necessary photographs. At a stroke all the crazy ideas published about Saunière between 1960 and 1995 just fell apart. It is extraordinary but true that the huge number of books and other publications — more than 300 to date — that have been written on the subject of the Abbé Saunière are based on data that have now been shown to be simply untrue. Jean-François Lhuillier Freedom is a much-damaged word. It has been savagely ripped apart to service the needs of market forces and glib politicians. And those who see Freedom as licence to do as you wish and not give a thought to the consequences have not helped secure its ancient value.