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Sheila Collier PART lV - The 1980s and '90s
The hills are alive with the sound of music A new place, a fresh start. The picturesque Peak District village of Hayfield in North Derbyshire was to be my home for the next ten years or so. At the edge of the Pennines, and with the dark peak of Kinder Scout looming behind a cluster of stone cottages, church, pubs, and a cricket pitch, it seemed an unlikely place for a jazz singer, bandleader, and promoter to settle. Together with my friend and jazz colleague, trombonist Eric Brierley (whom I had known since I was 18 when I joined the Southside Stompers), I lived in a former weaver's cottage on the banks of the River Sett. Reluctantly, I left my wonderful band, the Smokies - or Sheila Collier's Smoky City Jazz Band, to give them their full title - to carry on without me. Under the leadership of trumpet player Bill Smith they continued for 45 years, finally disbanding in 2007 - a fantastic record. Eric and I formed a small Swing band, playing every Sunday lunchtime in one of the village pubs, first the George Hotel, and later the Kinder Lodge. Predictably called the Hangover Band, and later, Sheila Collier's Swinghouse. They were fantastic sessions, enhanced by Fred, the singing landlord, and his version of Goody Goody! People came from far and wide and packed the tiny pub. It was great fun. There were six of us in the band - a hot club-style rhythm section:
But that wasn't enough for me! Fired with enthusiasm
from my visits to 'Jazz in Duketown' in S'Hertogenbosch, Holland, I
became obsessed The festival had a great image right from the start. The great Humphrey Lyttelton became our sponsor and brought his band every year. Music Hall-style posters and programmes - 'A superlative celebration of music in beautiful surroundings'! T-shirts, jazz films, jazz workshops, and, of course, a New Orleans-style parade. That's when the tragedy occurred.
Hayfield village had been intersected by a road - the
by-pass - to carry heavy traffic from the Buxton quarries through to
the industrial areas of the North West. Wagons carrying stone for
the road building came down a steep hill and up the other side.
At the time of the accident I was in my cottage
getting ready for the opening sessions in the marquee. I remember a
deadly hush surrounding me. The rest became an awful blur of
disbelief, followed by distress and anger. It pains me to write
about this terrible event - I can see the poor musicians as they
came back into the village, the awful newspaper-men selling stories
to the Sunday papers. (Denis Gilmore, one of the trumpet players,
attacked one of them.) What should have been a joyful celebration
turned into this terrible tragedy, and three young children lost
their lives. Rightly or wrongly, we decided to continue the
festival. On Sunday morning I had arranged for the Merribel Gospel
Choir to sing in the marquee. By God's blessing, the choir had
brought their preacher along with them, and the gospel session
became a moving service. His words gave us consolation and support.
I sang He's Got The Whole World In His Hands, and cried with great
sadness for this awful event.
PART V - The Lakes - and a surprise ending!
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John Gordon (lead guitar), Mike Dexter (rhythm
guitar), and John Johnson (bass). The front-line: Eric Brierley
(trombone), Gabe Essien (clarinet), later John Hallam (reeds), and
myself on vocals.
At
the bottom of the hill another road crossed the by-pass, leaving the
village cut in half. Originally, this road from Buxton was planned
to take a longer route circumventing the whole of the village, but
it was deemed to be too costly. When the festival committee planned
this first parade, we didn't want to leave out half of the village.
So we planned a route that crossed the by-pass and then came back to
the marquee. Police and the Local Authority were consulted well in
advance, and plans were put in place for the road to be closed to
all traffic one hour before the parade was due to start. By some
terrible act of fate, a heavy wagon was not stopped by the policeman
stationed at the top of the hill, and as the parade band was
half-way across the by-pass, the lorry came careering down the hill.
The driver, on seeing the musicians on the road, swerved violently
to avoid them, crashing into a house wall made of stone. Three
children, who had been standing in front of the wall to watch the
parade, were killed by the falling masonry. This terrible tragedy
will haunt me for the rest of my life.
Although
the festival grew in size, it remained true to my ideals -
to make sure the musicians and bands who played there got the chance
to socialise and play together. Not just a series of concerts, but
'Jazz at the Phil'-type sessions: Plas Johnson with Doctor John and
Chris Barber; Al Gray, Eric Brierley, and Max Collie on trombones;
Slim Gaillard with Mart Rodger Manchester Jazz; for example, Danny
Moss came with Humphrey Lyttelton and Roy Williams. It was
unbelievable! And such good fun. There were pub sessions, club
sessions, workshops; the Prowisorka from Poland; Waso and Birelli
Legrane from Belgium; the Juggetts parade band from Holland, and,
one year, the Olympia Brass Band from New Orleans! With my good
friend David Ross I would compere and introduce the artists and
musicians - and I got to sing with a few of them too! Special
memories include Honeysuckle Rose with the irrepressible Slim
Gaillard, and I Can't Get Started, with Humph's band. I always sang
gospel with the Merribel Is: Let Us All Get Together With The Lord;
Precious Lord, Take My Hand, and From A Distance - my Mum's
favourite. And when Doctor John came on stage and began playing Such
A Night, the whole marquee erupted! These were truly the glory days.
1985 was a great year for Hayfield, with the Acker Bilk Paramount
Jazz Band - Campbell Burnap on trombone; Humph, with Danny Moss
guesting, and Slim Gaillard topping the bill. Three weeks later I
flew from Manchester to Copenhagen to be met at the airport by
Lasse, and join them on a tour of Sweden. It was a wonderful
experience and such fun - Sweden is a very large country with very
few people (compared to the UK!), and we travelled hundreds of
miles, right into the Arctic Circle, playing 'coffee concerts;
evening gigs, and festivals. I saw the Count Basie Orchestra with
Joe Williams, met Maxine Sullivan, Thad Jones, and Danish
saxophonist Jesper Thilo. The weather was perfect, the 'boys'
treated me like a queen, and two days into the tour I fell in love
with Lasse Karlsson. At the end of July, 1985, I returned home
knowing I would go back to Helsingborg in late August to do a
recording with the band, and longing to be with Lasse again.
However, when I went back to Sweden it was not to be. Lasse was not
in a position to become more involved with me, and I cried all the
way back home again, trying to convince myself it was just a Summer
love-affair. Little did I know then that twenty-two years later
Lasse would search me out, and we would fall in love all over again!