Clubland entertainment was now big business, and a great deal of money was involved. Concert secretaries found themselves handling thousands of pounds each week in commissions and fees. Agencies opened and management deals were signed with artists. Prior to this, artists would arrive at the club armed with their music and a microphone, do three twenty-minute spots, see the concert secretary at the end of the night, get paid and try to negotiate another booking. Now, the trend was for them to have a manager and an agent who would do all the negotiating on their behalf, at a price of course: standard agency commission was 10-15% of the artist’s concert fee. Concert secretaries were very wary about this move and banded together to form an association to protect their interests. Many had been let down by the non-appearance of artists, whose agent had found a more lucrative booking at the last minute. In the South Yorkshire region, Neil Penno became president of the Concert Secretaries Association, which was formed to protect the interests of the clubs. The Association agreed a range of fees, length of time on stage, and to hold audition nights at different clubs on a rota basis, with each club holding one per year. The auditions were to be held during the week so as to maximise profits. One small club took over £170 over the bar on their audition night, which was a big boost to its finances. The Association also provided free legal advice to clubs who found themselves in dispute with artists, their management or agents over contracts. In fact, a standard contract was agreed and distributed to all clubs in the Association. It was an exciting time in clubland, and in response, the Doncaster Free Press, a weekly newspaper, devoted more and more space to clubland news, gossip and reviews. In some respects, the busy clubs of this post-war era had replaced the music halls and variety theatres of earlier times. Variety was still the essence of the entertainment bill, particularly in the larger clubs, as former club singer Lyn Charles explains: A Variety bill was exactly that, and it wasn’t just on stage that you became aware of the diversity of talents on offer... I would regularly be awoken by the sound of ducks, doves and other feathered friends in the bedroom next door. The pelvis of a contortionist was not an unusual sight greeting me in the dressing room. Comedians would test out their act over mugfuls of steaming coffee in the ‘digs’ - common parlance for overnight accommodation. Musicians were welcome there, as a late night sing-song was always preferable to feigned amusement for the class clown. I remember feeling the comedians in 1980s clubland were struggling to find suitable material, as times, in the words of the song, were indeed, a-changing, particularly as to what was deemed funny.
It is well recorded that only the brave went to the bar or the toilet when Bernard Manning was on stage. As a young artist, I found his aggression quite frightening. Fortunately, I started the night, rather than followed him! Acts such as The Barton Brothers, who were not really brothers, were allround performers. One of them, a tall, lanky fellow, did impressions, and the other brother played guitar as well as delivering comedy. Often, the comedy element of many acts came about as a means of self-preservation – look at Les Dawson. I remember that Marti Caine was striking in every sense of the word, and even though she sang, it was her comedy, her bravery and movement which stay in my memory. Magicians were rarer and often very old-fashioned. There was not a great deal of variety in their delivery or presentation: man in suit, often colourful and shiny, with girl in feather head-dress and swimsuit or leotard, smiling; ALWAYS smiling. The exceptions were Wayne Dobson and Paul Daniels, who stood out for their patter and comedic timing. On the bill, there was always room for unusual hard–to-categorise acts, such as Mighty Atom and Roy (Mo and Roy Moreland). Ventriloquists often had their ‘dolls’ slumped in a corner chair, and this frightened the life out of me on a few occasions. And yes, some ‘vents’ did talk to them as if they were real off stage! Groups were usually on last if it was a triple bill. Some of them were ideal for dance sets, as often that was all people wanted to do after an enjoyable liquid evening. I was always relieved if this was the case, as I found it hard to perform the disco and dance music of the era. I’d bash out Neil Sedaka, ‘I will Survive’, ‘Black is Black’, but it never felt quite me. You had to provide the variety, though. This was expected. A stand-out band for me were Magic who were in a different league to most of the bands, not just playing the music of Queen, but performing as if they were in rock stadiums - which they now are. I’m sure they would acknowledge that the WMCs were their training ground, and without the existence of the clubs, would they or many of us have the careers or lifestyles that we have now? Duos were popular acts, as were ‘guitar vocs’ guitar vocalists. Duos would usually be thought of as husband and wife, but many were teamed up for vocal ability, looks and similar style. They would often wear matching outfits. Catsuits were ‘in’. Some would try out their own material, but they struggled as the audiences tended, it seemed, to like music they were familiar with.
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