The Manchester Sports Guild (M.S.G.)
By Jack Swinnerton
Reproduced by kind permission of Jack Swinnerton & Just Jazz Magazine 2002

Jack Swinnerton died peacefully on 30th June 2008

Part 11: 
There were many aspects of working at the MSG, and it was pretty time consuming. Besides the considerable work of booking the bands in appropriate schedule (obviously avoiding too great a sequence of similarly styled groups, for example), there was agency booking for the club and other venues. Local advertising, performing rights documents which had to be done accurately and on time, and our own internal magazine required articles compiled on a regular basis. The MSG magazine 'Focus' was run off-on our own office duplicator until the end of 1963. Venturing into print deliberately just prior to the Red Allen venture was a somewhat bold step at the time. As a publication, it came and went rather quickly and I believe that the five editions that I possess were the only ones to be printed.

The first printed edition contained my warming up-essay for the Allen tour, which went on as a serialisation in the next two issues. Bruce Turner had been persuaded to contribute a rare piece of written criticism entitled 'Here Lies Jazz...' which was something of a swipe at the modernists ('Just Jazz' readers have probably seen it reproduced in an earlier issue). Ken Colyer was the first to appear in 'Jazzmen Worth Featuring; which was largely my concoction, with extracts from his band's history. Jenks explained how the club had come to feature jazz as its music in preference to other forms.

Having delivered an indignant moan to the editors about my apparent lack of presence in that issue - inventing the name 'Focus; having written considerably more than anyone else, it was hard to see why mine were the only uncredited efforts. Not only personal satisfaction but also the reader's right to respond to an individual opinion. That resulted in my being credited with practically everything in sight in issue number two, including write- ups of the Dutch Swing College and Alex Welsh Bands, both pieces only co-written by me.

The magazine would appear to be far more of a jazz flavoured publication than, for example, sport, folk music or other activities. Not only did we manage to persuade Bruce Turner to write but even Ken Colyer contributed a Bunk Johnson appreciation in our October, 1964, issue. (Colyer never came across to any of us at the MSG as the somewhat difficult character he is often portrayed as. One of the more genial musicians - beloved to chat about music or anything else in the intervals.) Having daytime access to city centre record stands, I would occasionally search for items he hadn't found on similar London stands. Can't recall what this one was, but the enclosed letter shows that I found at least a version of it.

On asking a certain rather famous trombonist what caused the split with Colyer, the reply was something like: "Could you work with an egomaniac?" Jenks and I were standing side by side and immediately glanced at each other. I think you can imagine what we almost said in unison, as we looked each other up and down.

Some of the debate in 'Focus' between members and musicians could be quite controversial at times ('Some of the liveliest reading we've come across in many moons' - 'Jazz Beat; September, 1964). Whilst too lengthy to quote in this article, certain items capture the atmosphere of the time quite well.

Discussing together on some project, or coming attraction, perhaps, in those evenings of forty years ago, Jenks would occasionally look across and quote a phrase which he did more than once. For some reason, I remember it vividly - "The inter-penetration of opposites" - presumably from some political hero of his. Whilst I never did ask, he was presumably referring to influences we could have on one another in our different ways. Experience of life at that time had produced in me someone of quite firm and decided views and a right wing view of life. More than 20 years older, Jenks was of convinced left wing opinions, vigorously and articulately expressed. Perhaps in his maturer thoughts, he recognised something of value to the jazz promotions in these diverse stances, not apparent to me.

Responsible for all jazz engagements until my departure (although I naturally left a legacy of forward booking extending months ahead) it became clear that the mountains of paperwork was too considerable for one, leading to the formation of a 'jazz sub-committee' following the 1964 Red Allen visit. Initially comprising Jenks, John and myself, it was expanded with others at various times.

The task of being responsible for the jazz policy and all bookings was a most enjoyable role and one that I was simply not prepared to see weakened. Recent experience of National Service and noted peculiarity of unmerited rank, coupled with a born reluctance to form part of a body or sect (whether it be trade union, rotary club or even religious bodies) had its bearing now. The somewhat absurd growth of vague committees, entertainment and even catering committee (what catering?) would tend to bring in people (not Jenks or John, incidentally) with no decided or informed views, but who seemed to feel that they had to express some to justify a committee position. This could have the opposite effect of what was intended and provide me with more work that I had before. Drafting out posters for our commercial artist was a speedy task and second nature to one of both an advertising and a jazz background. It was decided that I was too busy to handle this, quite ignorantly deemed as trivial work.  The sub-committee voted to pass this on to someone with no such experience, to administrate and pass on to me for checking. Going through the original draft, I came face-to-face with the amateurish horror of a banner headline for the 1965 re-appearance of Red Allen as 'The Red Man cometh.. ' Hastily scribbling through the line, it necessitated going through everything exhaustively until, inevitably, this person resigned the task and the work silently returned to base.

On another occasion I was deemed too busy to be selling jazz Magazines in the cellar. This was part of the ultimate dream to me - a complete, self-contained jazz environment, which would eventually include the promotion of records and tapes, too, had things developed as fully as was my ambition. One or two reports of the jazz sub-committee have survived and contain much of historical interest for today’s reader. Here are just a few samples:

“Freddy Randall is currently selling a superb line-up of himself, George Chisholm, Alan Cooper, Al Gay, Lennie Felix, Brian Brocklehurst, Nevil Skrimshire and Tony Allen. Randall suggests offsetting the costs by bringing a contingent from his own club (‘Cooks Ferry meets the MSG’) in a coach.”

“Benny Waters. Member N. J. Buckley is bringing the musician for a holiday 1-11 November He would be anxious to obtain a couple of paid jobs for Waters at a strictly expenses fee. A write-up and tape was provided by Buckley Unless we can locate a ‘spare exchange musician; no action can be taken.”

“Temperance Seven. The General Secretary reported that the solicitor had, as yet, received no reply from this group.” (Quite honestly I have absolutely no memory of what that was all about.)

“Coleman Hawkins. Jazz Organiser reports asking Stanley Dance, ‘our man in New York; to find address (one which didn’t happen!).” “Ernie Garside (Ernie was present at the meeting this extract comes from) has been offered Ben Webster for two nights, 19/20 June ( Webster is booked to play here on Sunday 6 June, with Bruce Turner band). It was decided that Ernie would use the 19th for Club 43 and we would take over the 20th in our jazz cellar using the Gordon Robinson Septet and Alan Hare’s arranging talent.” 

By the summer of 1965, there were three principal promoters of imported jazz talent operating in this country, not forgetting the individual efforts of musicians such as Chris Barber and Humphrey Lyttelton. In a major survey outlining the concerns of the leading group, Are they killing the golden jazz?', ‘Melody Maker’ sought the opinion of those involved.

A concerned L.C. Jenkins of the Manchester Sports Guild: “Too many American players are being brought over in too short a space of time. Tours are being set up right and left, and dates for one artist are clashing with those of another, If the agents are too greedy, they will kill the goose that lays the very small jazz egg. There’s only so much business.”

Johnny Jones, ex-trumpet leader of the London City Stompers and now proprietor of the London City Agency, agreed: “We have cancelled the Sammy Price tour to show that we’re having no part of this over-loading of the British club scene at the expense of our traditional bands.” Jack Higgins, of the Harold Davison Agency, much the biggest of those involved, had examined the MSG’s programme and took a difference view”.. if anybody is swamping the marker, it looks as though it’s the Sports Guild at the moment.” My own opinion is that Jack was unjust there, and merely wanted to take over the scene.. .indeed, he eventually did. The MSG events had been organised and spaced months before, in the belief that it would remain with the field to itself, not realising that others would examine their pioneering efforts and move in themselves. Competition became so great that even Red Allen, somewhat distressed about the whole thing, confessed by letter that he had signed up with the Davison agency for his second solo tour.

At this point, the MSG began to take less interest in the regular importing of its own artistes, and present the musicians of the Davison agency — which it always had anyways. Musicians were arriving regularly and the primary concern was not one of ego, but in presenting these greats in the centre. The enthusiasts knew who the pioneers were.

Much has been said of the support of the specialist jazz press, but what was the reaction throughout the press generally?

 Brian Blain, jazz critic of the now departed left-wing ‘Daily Worker', devoted a full half page to the MSG on March 6, 1965, (and this was a broadsheet, not a tabloid paper) almost conjuring up the matchstick figures and iron railings of a Lowry painting. ‘Close by the traditional neo-Gothic and grime of the Cathedral in Manchester, surrounded by shabby warehouses, offices and cafés, stands a three storey red brick warehouse. This unspectacular building is rapidly assuming the position of some kind of El Dorado to jazz enthusiasts throughout Britain'. Brian proceeds in a true ‘Daily Worker’ style describing this Dickensian scene: ‘Sparsely furnished offices, be-sweatered Jenks', and concludes that ‘local authorities, trade unions and Co-operative Societies can learn from the MSG The ‘Sunday Times’ proclaimed: ‘The Manchester Sports Guild are backing a winner on the Red Allen tour, whilst even as far distant as the south coast, the ‘Brighton and Hove Gazette’ paid tribute to ‘a body who do so much to encourage jazz.. .'. John Evans in ‘The Tribune’ — ‘. . they are giving the many thousands of English jazz fans the chance to hear mature and exceptional talents

I could quote more, but you get the drift. What has been a medium sized local venue in 1961 had, within three years, gained national, even international, prominence. Now comes the difficult point to answer, but it has to come round. Why did I quit the role in 1966? The succeeding years have bathed the period in such a glow of nostalgia that rational sounding explanations do not come easy. Wallowing in the distant past whilst writing of those days does not help, serving merely to heighten the awareness of what was achieved behind the modest doors. For four years or so, the commitment to promoting jazz at the MSG had been intensive work. In those days, my paid employment was within a stones throw of the Centre, enabling me to be present every weekday at lunchtime, and evenings from about 5pm or so. Most of the bookings were done at lunchtime or early evening when such as the London agents were in office. By 730pm, there was the live jazz of the evening to administer or, on other occasions, the work of the Centre. In short, one was always 'on duty', never there to totally relax.

Naturally, comments about doing a good job etc were appreciated, and most young people would enjoy a taste of the minor celebrity status I was experiencing. Certainly, I was no exception. Having reached my late twenties, with scarcely a free moment in four years.. well, we all have other interests to pursue.

My career was slightly suffering. My devotion to the centre had been known at work, and cost me a promotion because of perceived dedication to other matters. That was enough, I thought. In some ways, surprisingly, my interest in jazz music was being thwarted. Often missing many a good session and probably working in the upstairs office scheduling future events or something. No leisure time to sort out a growing collection of records, note missing takes or check discographies for sessions not yet acquired. My wife, Jennifer, (or girlfriend, as she still was then) was not in favour of me moving on, but patiently understood my dilemma.

Strangely, it actually felt that a huge burden had been lifted and that I was now free to do whatever on that first night with no restrictions. But it was not yet over, and 1967 was to find me involved with the MSG in one final exercise. It had been a constant endeavour to find adjacent dates for visiting musicians from afar. Economic sense, if a band were booked for the centre on a Saturday night for a fee based on the assumption of back and forth for one night, a significant saving would come by finding next night's backing relatively close by. Carlisle Jazz Club was a small venue who regularly took some of our Saturday features on the following night, but this was quite a distance away (and no M6 motorway up there in those days), and they were too small a venue to pay sufficiently to make any significant reduction in the fee. I met people from Preston and Leeds on various occasions, but negotiations never came to anything.

About the time of my departure from the MSG, my parents retired to the Blackpool area and I accompanied them. Having gradually repaired the temporary rift in our relations following my abrupt departure, Jenks phoned me to see if I could find anywhere on the Fylde Coast to feature jazz events. In touring the area's clubs, some unexpectedly strong opposition was encountered. Some even assumed that the MSG was big business muscling in, and I the highly paid front man (irony, indeed, for someone who didn't even get expenses). I recall explaining to one irate gentleman that "we only wanted to try to get something going in the area," from which he inferred that his years of local effort were being belittled. When eventually he, and many other people, realised the true aims, they readily came round, and I eventually discovered the Casino on Blackpool Pleasure Beach. Out of season and anxious for bookings, they were happy to reserve some Friday and Saturday night slots at reasonable rates. It is difficult now to remember how many but, certainly Bill Coleman, Albert Nicholas, Teddy Wilson and Henry 'Red' Allen all played there. Red Allen appeared on Friday, 3 March, 1967, and was obviously seriously ill. Several stone lighter than when we had last met, he knew his cancer was killing him and yet, in spite of this, gave a most spirited performance on this penultimate night of his third and final solo tour. He survived only a few short weeks. That is just about the end of my MSG story. There are probably many more notes in the attic, but endless facts and figures is not the point of this series. My attempt is to recapture an atmosphere. To those of you who have read through the series, I hope that you consider the effort worthwhile. It has been a great pleasure to relive an exciting period of my younger days, and hope it will be of interest to future historians of the 1960s Manchester jazz scene.

Once again, thank you for the opportunity to indulge.

ADDENDUM
The following article appeared in 'Focus' the MSG's monthly magazine, in February 164. (courtesy of Jack Swinnerton

Jazzmen Worth Featuring
Ken Colyer: Man with an ideal...

On Thursday, January 30th, we welcomed Ken Colyer and his Jazzmen to the MSG Jazz Cellar, and as Ken is to say the least, one of the most controversial names in Traditional jazz we thought members would like to know a bit about his life.

During the last fifteen years it has become increasingly obvious that, despite the earlier conclusions drawn by many people, the recorded music of such groups as Jelly Roll Morton and his Red Hot Peppers and King Oliver’s Creole Jazz Band does nor represent New Orleans music in its basic form. The music we have become accustomed to on these records is a more advanced form.

Just as the revival of the Oliver/Morton type of music via Lu Watters and Turk Murphy on the US West Coast took place, so it was in England with such men as George Webb, Humphrey Lyttelton and Owen Bryce, but the rediscovered figures of men like Kid Rena and Bunk Johnson produced disciples of the original New Orleans music in England.

Two of these disciples were Ken Colyer and his elder brother, Bill, both of whom were, at the time, serving in the Merchant Navy.

After leaving the Navy Ken and Bill settled down in Cranford, and gathered about them a few local jazz enthusiasts, but, having nowhere indoors to practice their music, they would meet and play on the banks of the River Crane — hence Kens first group was formed as the Crane River Jazzmen.

First Dispute

The band worked hard to produce a worthwhile ensemble sound, and soon they acquired a good reputation. But it was nor to be long before the first of Colyer’s many musical disputes cropped up. Ken thought that the band was beginning to stray from the uncompromisingly straight and narrow path he had set — the dispute ended with Ken, Pat Hawes and Ben Marshall resigning.

Just prior to this, some excellent records had been cut by a group made up of members of the Colyer and Lyttelton bands, and Ken, remembering this, saw a new opportunity to play his type of jazz. So it was that a new group came into being — the Christie Brothers Stompers with Ian (clarinet), and Keith (trombone) Christie, flanking Ken Colyer — a completely incompatible front-line when looked at now, but this was in 1952, before musical differences became apparent. The Christie Brothers Stompers were, without doubt, at that time the liveliest and punchiest group in the country.

The same musical fate befell Colyer once more as the band began to stray from Ken’s strict jazz ideals, so, in October, 1952, he donned his Merchant Navy uniform again and took off on his now famous trip to New Orleans. Some of the older enthusiasts will remember his letters printed in the ‘Melody Maker’ describing his awe at meeting and playing with such sidesmen as Percy Humphrey, Emile Barnes, George Lewis, Albert Glenny, etc. Barnes and Glenny were present on the records made by Colyer whilst in the Crescent City.