Hornspieler and the Threebees

[Hornspieler]

In my previous post, I introduced the word Pointless

It was Pointless to schedule a recording of a programme until Yalding House gave us a transmission date.
(All the orchestra's programmes were recorded for subsequent transmission, following editing in Bristol and acceptance from Radio 3 and nothing was transmitted live.)

It was Pointless to seek out and book premises to make that recording until the availability of Conductor and Soloists had been ascertained and the local Audio Engineers were not fully commited elsewhere.

It was Pointless to engage Deputies and Extras until they could be told When and Where they would be required for the recording and the previous rehearsal days.

None of those issues had been addressed. and so these became my main priorities in the first few months.

My sister suggested a big wall chart for the year, which showed every day in succesive columns along the top and a list of possible actions down the side.
Difficult to explain. It was like a sort of grid and the required actions were filled in with a red marker pen when they had been completed.

It was the maxim as practised in Management Services which I later discovered by myself :-
"Get it on the Wall, so's everyone who needs to know can see it!"

I have summarised (some of) the problems encountered in those first few months.
Some of the decisions and promises made by BBC Bristol's Head of Music (a former Church Organist with a minor Music Degree) were annoying and embarrasing, but at least I had made a start in my new job.

My next topic will be on the subject of "Working for the BBC" (Ramsbotham and Enoch and Me" if your memory of 1940s Radio Comedy Programmes goes back that far!)

HS

[MrGongGong]

a minor Music Degree

What's one of those?
Surely all music degrees include knowledge of Major keys as well?

[Hornspieler]

First things first.

The Office Staff

I found that my staff included an Orchestra Secretary, who failed to deal with matters of immediate urgency and then lied about it.
She had to go and we found a replacement who was well-versed in BBC procedures and enterprising enough to deal with problems arising.

We had a Music Librarian who served the whole of BBC Bristol from his den in the Christchurch Studios in Clifton.
He turned out to be a former horn player who I had played alongside in the defunct BBC Opera Orchestra (renamed the BBC Concert Orchestra when Friday Night became Music Night) back in 1950.

My personal secretary was called Karen. A bright young thing but her grammar was appalling and her spelling left much to be desired.

.... I didnt not tell Mr Whyton seeing as how we handant seen the final shedule ...

Yes, a candidate for our present day UNI if ever I saw one.
I managed to get her to transfer to the BBC's Studio in New Bond Street and she was delighted, thinking that she had been promoted.

Extras and Deputies.

There were several local players who could be called in to deputise in the case of sickness or failure to recruit a suitable new member.
One of those was the Viola player Jean Bourgeois. Wife of composer Derek who was on the staff of Bristol University. Super reliable and did not look out of place among the 'students'
Peter Mountain's wife was Angela Dale. They were a long establish duo partnership that I first encountered in 1951 on a concert trip to Guernsey. An accomplished orchestral pianist or harpsichord player on our doorstep.

Angela Malsbury was the wife of Clifton College's Music Master, David Pettit.
A very fine clarinettist who was useful to us both as a coach, or as a member of an audition panel for those aforementioned woodwind candidates.

(My spelling seems to be getting as bad as Karen's. I'd better stop now.)

HS

[Flay]

(...I'd better stop now.)

Not for too long I hope. I'm enjoying your monologue (and I envy your painting skills )

[Hornspieler]

Not for too long I hope. I'm enjoying your monologue (and I envy your painting skills )

Very kind of you to say so, Flay.

No, I'm not an artist because I don't draw - I copy, mostly from photographs.

Here is the first picture that I painted during some free time in Bristol.
It is of my younger daughter who, believe it or not (and sometimes I can't) is now a Consultant Radiologist in Ipswich Hospital, where her husband is a Stroke Consultant.


"Ilyena" Oil on Artboard 1973


More about my artistic endeavours in my next post, which will be tomorrow morning.

HS

[MrGongGong]

No, I'm not an artist because I don't draw - I copy, mostly from photographs.

That doesn't make you a 'non artist' though.

[Hornspieler]

Extras and Deputies.

There were several local players who could be called in to deputise in the case of sickness or failure to recruit a suitable new member.
One of those was the Viola player Jean Bourgeois. Wife of composer Derek who was on the staff of Bristol University. Super reliable and did not look out of place among the 'students'
Peter Mountain's wife was Angela Dale. They were a long establish duo partnership that I first encountered in 1951 on a concert trip to Guernsey. An accomplished orchestral pianist or harpsichord player on our doorstep.

Angela Malsbury was the wife of Clifton College's Music Master, David Pettit.
A very fine clarinettist who was useful to us both as a coach, or as a member of an audition panel for those aforementioned woodwind candidates.

Does anybody remember the Edinburgh Rehearsal Orchestra? In fact did anyone of us ever play in it?

The ERO was founded by Harry Legge, a viola player from the RPO, who started an amateur orchestra which functioned only during the weeks of the Edinburgh Festival and any instrumentalist who was visiting for the duration of the festival could go along and take part in a play through of a selected repertoire of orchestral works.
Just the sort of training that our orchestra had been promised and we arranged for Harry to come down to Bristol and preside over our
sessions of familiarising the players with works which they would encounter in a full-sized symphony orchestra.
Mainly for the benefit of the string players, of course, but we did try to fill in some gaps in the woodwind and brass from our list of local extras and deputies.
I joined in and played the third horn parts. Not a bad idea to show the orchestra that I could play, but we really needed a fourth horn to complete the quartet. Someone told me that a young lady who I had met up in Glasgow was now married and was living in Bristol.

Ideal! Roberta didn't hesitate to join in for those read-throughs. The Training Orchestra was fulfilling its stated purpose - Training

The chart on the wall had solved the problem of ensuring that all arrangements for our committed weekly studio broadcasts had been made. I now found myself with a lot of free time to do other things; although I still had to be available to deal with last minute emergencies.

It was time to get to know what other activities were extant in BBC Bristol and to meet some of the Network Production Centre's staff .....

HS

[Hornspieler]

The chart on the wall had solved the problem of ensuring that all arrangements for our committed weekly studio broadcasts had been made. I now found myself with a lot of free time to do other things; although I still had to be available to deal with last minute emergencies.

It was time to get to know what other activities were extant in BBC Bristol and to meet some of the Network Production Centre's staff .....

I was amazed to discover what a huge input there was from Bristol's Network Production Centre to the BBC Radio and Television output.

In the canteen, I found myself sitting with that charming Antiques Expert Arthur Negus or maybe "Down Your Way" with Brian Johnston. I met and chatted with Johny Morris coming through the car park; holding hands with an Orang Utan mother and carrying her baby on his shoulder. David Jacobs, that "Top of the Pops" intellectual could hold his own on many subjects.
David Attenborough back from one of his many safaris had many tales to tell and the artist Tony Hart from Childrens television had much good advice on painting and presentation, as I was to discover later.

But probably the most important newly found colleagues at that time was the talks and drama producer (whose activities in the BBC's Clifton Studios often frustrated our attempts to make use of the upper studio for pre-recording rehearsals and repertoire training sessions.
I bore him no ill will - he was the first one there and like myself, would not have been considered as one of the Hierarchy.

In fact, we chatted quite a lot and when he discovered that my English Master at school was William Golding, his eyes lit up.

Q "Was he a good teacher?"

A "He certainly had a great influence." (a guarded reply)

Q "Did he get all of you to write stories and not just essays?"

A "Yes. It meant that he could go on writing his own Lord of the Flies during lesson time."

Q "Did you recognise any of the characters?"

A "I think so. A couple of the boys and at least one of the masters from our school."

Q"Good. I thought as much. It's what gives the novel a feeling of realism isn't it? So what did you write about?"

I told him that I had started a short story called "Chang Rang Island" It was about an RAF Sunderland flying boat operating in the Far East. All the crew's names were drawn from my classmates and, of course, I was the Pilot, with the rank of Squadron Leader. Somebody spilled a bottle of ink over the manuscript (Was it AC2 "Fairy" Bush?) So I never finished it.

I shall return to this subject in a later post.

HS

[Hornspieler]

The orchestra basically worked a five day week and, apart from the monthly permitted Public Concerts, they had no evening commitments, but nevertheless, I always had to be available - whether it was to resolve a problem when a guest artist was delayed by fog in Munich Airport or there was a commotion and confrontation between the permanent members of staff and "those damned kids" in the BBC Club.

My office was within the Music Department complex in the BBC headquarters in Whiteladies Road. I would normally be working in there at night, tidying up a few arrangements, or perhaps listening to the radio.

The Orchestra Secretary had found herself a nice office in the Christchurch studios in Clifton. Available to deal with orchestral matters without the distraction of the hustle and bustle of Whiteladies Road. (No names - No Pack Drill)
During the day, if the orchestra was working there, I would station myself in a small office high up in the building, so as to be available for emergencies. The window looked out across the rooftops of Clifton to the Spire of Christ Church and who could resist that assorted jumble of chimney pots and different coloured tiles, some of which must have been hundreds of years old?

So out came the oil paints and easel and I painted a picture of the view. The caretaker porter at the studios had spent all his BBC career there - he never went near to Whiteladies except to collect his salary once each month, and he happened to spot the painting.
He was 'over the moon' - kept coming back up the stairs to look at it and I knew that I just had to give it to him. Later, I painted a portrait of Vic, our OB van driver and he asked if he could have it for his wife. Well, that was done from a photograph which I still have, so that was not such a wrench when I let it go to a new home.

One of our hornplayers, whose time was up, had been teaching some young players at Clifton College and suggested that I might be willing to take the job on, so that accounted for three nights a week during term time and some useful pocket money to pay for my Draught Guiness in the club on the other two nights.

Clifton College is very close by Bristol Zoo and my pupils' efforts were supplemented by the bellowing of large animals just over the wall.
Very nostalgic. It took me right back to Liepzig Gewandhaus in 1965 when we played for the city's Eight Hundredth Anniversay celebrations and the noises of animals bellowing from the Zoo behind the stage caused much mirth when some wag suggested that our trombone section was beginning to show some signs of improvement.

With everything tidied up, pro tem, I was ready to start sorting out the schedule for 1974.

HS

(Watch this space - not the one between my ears)

[Hornspieler]

I'm going to divert from Bristol and the 3 B's for a moment to return to the subject of writing and, in particularly, poetry.

My elder sister Paddy studied at RADA, joined the acting profession, toured with the 'Stars in Battledress' company, where she met many famous actors and producers (and brought them home to our family for tea - so I met them as well) so I found myself spending a lot of time with older companions and being of an artistic inclination myself, I think I sort of skipped those troublesome teenage years with their doubts and agonies.
Well Paddy married a TV Producer (ITV) produced two offspring and when they had "sprung off" in their own directions, she enrolled in the Open University and obtained a degree in English. Her speciality was the English Poets and especially, the Metaphysical Poets (John Donne - Andrew Marvell and George Herbert) and she made many trips to Poland at the invitation of PAGART, the Polish equivalent of our Arts Council, to give talks about the English Poets, especially Shakespear, Lord Byron and John Milton. (I've highlighted the Bard for a reason that you will learn later)

"Poetry," she told me "is the best way of expressing emotion and dealing with it. Whatever is worrying you, annoying you, or delighting you, Get it down on paper. Make it into a poem and you will find that it will sort out the confusion in your mind. In fact, deal with it, there and then and get on with your life."

"It works, I promise you".

Well, I had experienced many ups and downs, triumphs and disasters since the age of 18 and I did find relief and sometimes joy in getting it out of my system.
I particular enjoyed writing sonnets in the style of Shakespear (not John Milton, who used a different format), but my first success, written when I felt frustrated and ill used, actually won me a small prize and was reproduced in the local paper:

Life's Gambit

Life is like a game of chess
An ordered, checkered wilderness
And the Pawns bear all the stress
Searching after happiness

The Knights engage in furious fight
Pawns rush out in reckless flight
Castle Walls give brief respite
And Bishops preach to black and white

The King is fettered when he moves
The Queen protects the one she loves
Knights rampage in murderous droves
And Pawns lay dying beneath their hooves

Soon, the Bishops, too, must die
Trapped by their idolatry
Then the knights fall, gallantly
Castles crumble, the King must flee

The Queen destroys herself with hate
The Pawns are locked in fierce debate
None can move, so all must wait
Excepting one, who wins his mate

But victory is gained too late
The destiny that rules our fate
Becomes the sword that will castrate
Emasculate. Anihilate

(Maybe I did learn something from William Golding)

Back to business in my next post:

[Hornspieler]

Copyist or Artist?

Bill Laird, the man whose heart attack had created the vacancy which secured me a position within the BBC, was an Artist.

Whereas I could copy a photograph or paint the view in front of my eyes, Bill could visualise a picture in his mind and then translate that vision onto paper. He also worked in watercolour, acknowledged by most as the most difficult medium to use. No rubbing out or over-painting possibilities there; it was a once only chance.

Bill was Chairman of the Savages Club in Bristol; where all the local artists were members, so when, in 1974, Tony Hart announced that he was going to set up a painting competition in the BBC Club, I fully expected to see an entry from Bill, but only a day before entries were to close, there was nothing by him on the wall.

"Bill," I said "Why haven't you entered a picture for Tony's competition?"

"Oh lor!" was the reply "I'd forgotten all about it and all my pictures are down at the Savages' exhibition. I'll see if I can knock something up tonight when I get home."

The following morning, he produced a lovely watercolour of a sandy beach with a row of cottages looking out across the sea and an upturned rowing boat on the sand.

"Fantastic, Bill, what is this a picture of?"

"A Cornish Fishing Village"

"What village. When did you go there?"

"I didn't. But that is what I imagine one would look like."

"Gosh! You know Bill, I'd love to buy this picturel."

"You can have it for a tenner. After the competition's over."

Well, needless to say, it won the prize hands down and, a week later, Bill brought it in for me; mounted and framed.

"Ten pounds, please."

I still have that picture, 40 years later. It is mounted in pride of place on the wall behind me as I am writing this message.

Yes. There is a difference between and artist who can visualise a scene and a copyist, like me, who can only reproduce what is in front of his eyes.
HS

[Hornspieler]

"Who did he say that was?"

Midway through 1974, I was asked to 'look after' a recording - in other words, to oversee the the operatives on site, supervise the operatives in the editing suite and sign my name as Producer on the recording report which was sent to BBC in London.

Douglas Vaughan, our local announcer was once described by Eleanor Warren, the Head of Music Programmes, Radio Three as "...the finest voice on radio"

But more than that. He prepared his own script with the greatest care, seeking out all the information he could find about the programme, the Artists involved and the works performed.

He would then prepare his own script and underline the essentials, so his final script would look something like this:

"In that performance of Beethoven's Fifth symphony, the Bournemouth Symphony orchestra was conducted by Paavo Berglund
The concert was recorded before an invited audience in the Winter Gardens in Bournemouth.

How many of our present-day announcers are as clear in their pronouncements as that?

Douglas had one Bête noir. He firmly refused to pronounce the word "Meteorological" on air when reading the Shipping Forecast and would say "... and now here is the weather Forecast from the Met Office."

More about that later. I have a pressing appointment right now.

HS

BTW "Happy Birthday Mr Halstead!

[Hornspieler]

"Would you like to look after the Rattle recording tomorrow?"

Rattle recording?" Oh yes. Simon Rattle. Assistant conductor to Berglund at Bournemouth. Not important enough for the boss to make the journey.

I jumped at the chance, and set off overnight to Bournemouth and, for me, home.

Apparently, this recording was not important enough for the boss man to make the journey and, when the orchestra assembled on stage, it appeared that it was not important enough for the Leader and Sub Leader to appear, because I was surprised to find that it was my wife who was leading the orchestra.
The programme was headed by a short overture (I don't remember which) and then a full blown performance of the Eroica symphony.

Douglas had prerecorded his announcements and they were on a five inch spool, with blue leader tape between the different items so that they could be inserted into the finished product at the editing stage.

This young man was good and I was most impressed with the manner in which the orchestra responded to him.

In hindsight, it looks as if my first impression was correct.

HS

[Hornspieler]

It must have been about that time that I found myself sitting at a table in the canteen with Brian Miller.

BM "That story you wrote at school, about the Sunderland Flying Boat? What made you think of that as a subject?"

ME "I've no idea. Probably read something similar in one of those Boy's Comics - 'Hotspur', or 'Adventure' or something."

BM "Would you consider writing something for 'The Morning Story' on BBC Home service?"

ME "I don't mind having a go; if you tell me what is required."

Brian told me the rules:

1. The story must be a maximum of 2,150 words. That would read for 14 minutes, giving room for announcements before 11 o'clock

2. No expletives or obscenities in the spoken text.

3. No tongue twisters. Words like Douglas Vaughan's "Meteorological" were forbidden.

Well. Why not?

The Sunderland theme (Chang Rang Island) was a starter. I would write about the RAF.

In fact, I was so fired with enthusiasm that I wrote a trilogy of three stories - "A Piece of Cake", "The Man who could fly Backwards" and "The Airman who loved the Sea". I called the set "Flight of Three"¥ and submitted them to Brian, who vowed to send them up to London immediately.

I'm not sure if my choice of theme was influenced by Roald Dahl's "Tales of the Unexpected" or Edgar Allen Poe's "Tales of Mystery and Imagination" but I think what really inspired me was that superbly crafted and moving tale "The Shepherd".***

*** By Frederick Forsyth. If you haven't read it. Get a copy from somewhere. It was a prize winning novalla when it was published in 1973

Brian was delighted when they were accepted for broadcast and then devastated (as was I) when the BBC announced that they were shortly going to drop the Morning story and that there were several other recordings already in the pipe line, some of which would also "Miss the Boat"

So ended my writing ambitions as far as Bristol was concerned, although I continued to write (2 novels and several shorter items like "Bravo Maestro") after leaving BBC Bristol behind."

Time to start talking about The Academy(sic) of the BBC and what happened in the succeeding years of its promised contract.

¥ If you would like to read "Flight of Three" written under my pen name "Vinsun Beech", email me hornspieler@virginmedia.com and I will send you a document file attachment by return.
No charge, but donations to The British Heart Foundation are always welcome.

[Hornspieler]

Hornspieler and the threebees

There were three recordings that I was entrusted with ‘looking after’ of which I was particularly proud.

One was with the Bournemouth Sinfonietta, conducted by Kenneth Montgomery.

Devoted entirely to Richard Strauss, it was his Metamorphosen, Le Bourgoise Gentilhomme and the Oboe Concerto, played by Heinz Holliger .
I still have that recording.

Then there was a programme conducted by Paavo Berglund in the Great Hall of Exeter University on the morning after a Public concert there the previous evening:

Ravel Danse Styrienne
Bliss Miracle in the Gorbals
Kodaly Hary Janos*

* with that celebrated cymbalom player, the late John Leach

The third was recorded by the Bournemouth SO in the unfriendly environment of Bournemouth Town Hall.

Shostakovitch:Symphony Nº 10 I also ‘looked after' a number of the Training Orchestra's recordings, one of the Stanshaw Band, and even a background effect for our resident chaplain, Canon Peter Firth, who took a group of his flock on a pilgrimage to Lake Gallilee.

Bill Laird was no longer with us. His place was filled by a callow youth who dribbled when he spoke, but was obviously well qualified to produce music broadcasts because he had played the violin in his school orchestra.

That Shostakiovitch recording did me no favours. Paavo Berglund was so pleased with the result obtained from that most acoustically unfriendly location, that he wrote to our Head of Music (the one with the minor music degree, Mr GongGong) and requested that I alone should in future produce all of the Bournemouth orchestras' recordings.

I was never asked to 'look after' another programme during the rest of my time in Bristol

Still, I had learned a lot about tape editing, microphone placement, stereo atmosphere enhancement and all the other tricks of the recording man's trade. That experience was to serve me well much later when I undertook with Raymond Carpenter to copy and clean up some of those Silvestri home recordings which eventually found their way onto the BBC Legends Discs.

Things were about to change over the next few months. The storm clouds were gathering over BBC Bristol's Chamber Orchestra.