Chapter 3 – A London Trip

In the spring of 1971, on April 3rd, my girlfriend, my sister, and I went to London for two weeks to visit my girlfriend Marg, who had moved there. I couldn’t wait to buy the trendy new British fashions, go to rock clubs and meet people. The U.S. Dollar went super far against the British pound. The exchange rate was in our favor then. When I packed to go there, I put my clothing in a small suitcase and put it in a larger one, so I could fill the larger one with new fashionable British clothing.

I had a nasty head cold the day before the flight, but I didn’t let it stop me from going. It’s true what they say, “Never fly with a cold,” I thought my head would explode. The cold blocked my ears, and they were very painful. My sister said that was good because I didn’t notice the awful turbulence from the scary plane ride.

We joined a tourist club from Canada that was offering a low-price private charter plane to England. The flight was cheap, but so was the plane. A group of people from Ireland were having a great time, and they didn’t mind the turbulence. I enjoyed barely hearing the Irish songs they were singing and watching them as they staggered down the aisle with their drinks in hand, trying not to spill them.

We flew into Gatwick Airport and had to catch a train. While waiting outside for the train into London, it hit me how everywhere I looked, everything was gray, and the fog was thick like I had heard about. It was like I was in a strange dream, a black-and-white movie or another world. I was still pretty sick and probably had a temperature. But you don’t think about being sick when you’re 19 and on an adventure. I had to go shopping, to the famous clubs and take in all the British music magic that I could. England is where my favorite music came from, where the musicians who created it lived, and I was here. Watching them play in clubs in America was great, but I wanted to see where it all started.

We stayed at Marg’s flat in Tremlett Grove, the Archway area in London. It was quaint, comfortable, and in a lovely building with other occupied flats. It was a popular rental for Americans visiting London, mainly friends from Detroit. Mrs. Tunstall owned the flat and a newsagent/candy shop around the corner. We became friends with her daughters and sons. I loved testing her shop’s different candy and biscuits (cookies) brands. I recall having my first Cadbury Dairy Milk bar and especially loved caramel and hard candies. I was still a kid at heart. It was like a scene from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, released two months later.

The first club that we went to was The Speakeasy in London. It was more like a late-night meeting place for people in the music business to hang out away from rock fans. Bands played there for a low fee to showcase their talent, hoping to be recognized by record company executives.

Not long after we entered the club, found a table, and sat down, we were surprised to see Russ Gibb had walked in with a small entourage. I wrote about him in my first chapter and how he was the concert promoter at the Grande Ballroom. What a coincidence seeing Russ on our first night out in London.

Another night, we all went to the Roundhouse Club in Chalk Farm. I hadn’t gone shopping yet and was so anxious to do that. But the ticket taker complimented me on the shiny black leather jacket I bought back home. I was shocked. He said, “I like your jacket, it’s fab”. And with all the concertgoers walking in wearing their hip British finery, it was an honest compliment. I can’t recall which bands played. The Roundhouse is a former railway engine shed and turntable. It was freezing in there, and I was shivering the whole time. I was most likely still sick with a cold.

Back at the flat, I was sitting by the window and saw a car pull up out front. I mentioned it to the girls, who all came to the window to look. A few guys got out of the vehicle. Marg said they were the guys living in the flat upstairs, but one was their friend David Knights. He was the original bass player of the band Procol Harum. We all thought seeing him walking into our building was pretty cool.

Listening to Procol Harum at the Grande Ballroom was one of my fondest music memories. When Matthew Fisher quit the band in 1969, Robin Trower invited Chris Copping to replace Fisher on organ and David Knights on bass. That didn’t seem like a fair deal since Knights had been in the band long enough to play on their first three albums. I’ll talk more about him at the end of this chapter.

Since we would be doing many shopping trips and it was spring, I bought a black double-breasted trench coat. I didn’t want to look like a tourist while shopping, and I wanted to stay dry from the on and off again rain. It was still pretty chilly, so I wore a sweater underneath it when sightseeing.

Another must-have was a custom-made pair of snakeskin boots. They were very cool, and they looked fantastic. So we went to the well-known Greek boot makers. Back in the States, at the Eastown, if you were wearing a pair of snakeskin boots, it was obvious that you had been to London.

We went to the very famous Biba’s on Kensington High Street. There, I bought a beautiful brown crepe pantsuit. The long jacket had a soft belt that tied in the back into a bow. The material was thin, smooth, and silky and draped beautifully.

I also bought a pair of gorgeous dusty rose-colored suede boots at Biba’s. They came up just below the knee. Later, I purchased a thin, dusty rose sweater that matched the boots at another store. I believe it was in a shop on Portobello Road where I found a beautiful shoulder bag purse. The bag consisted of different pieces of snakeskin sewn together in a patchwork of varying colors. Some of the colors and the shoulder strap matched my snakeskin boots. I was in British fashion heaven everywhere I looked. The intricate details, tailoring, and materials used according to the latest styles made British fashion so great.

I bought crimson red colored velveteen hot pants (not too hot, more like shorts) with a matching jacket. Since some of the fashion was unisex, I bought men’s maroon velveteen trousers and a men’s pink suede jacket. They were like the velvet trousers we would see on the British musicians.

It wasn’t easy finding food we liked. And I couldn’t find a decent cup of coffee anywhere. We ate most of our meals at a little family-owned restaurant nearby, and the food was okay.

Easter morning at Westminster Abbey, we could stand just inside the door. My favorite landmark of all is Big Ben. It is officially known as the bell inside the clock of the Clock Tower. In 2012, the tower was renamed Elizabeth Tower.

Another day, we took a day trip to Windsor Castle, the world’s oldest and largest occupied castle, located in Berkshire. It was the official residence of Queen Elizabeth from March to April over Easter, known as Easter Court.

We drove out into the country, about 2 hours from London, to the picturesque village of Castle Combe in Wiltshire. It is the prettiest village in England. While walking around, taking in as much as possible, I kept thinking, “How quaint and charming, now where is my prince?” It was like walking into a fairytale of honey color, Cotswolds stone cottages lining the narrow streets. Together with the stone bridge, winding river, and St. Andrew’s church off in the distance, it all makes for a most beautiful scene.

The photo below hangs in my living room.

The same day after that trip, we went to the mysterious Stonehenge in Wiltshire. With its spiritual and sacred history, the mystical stones are one of Britain’s most famous landmarks. It was eerie being there and touching the stones. I think doing so had something to do with my strange fate.

We were to leave London for Detroit in the morning of April 17th, and with only a few days left on our trip, we went to the famous Marquee Club at 90 Wardour Street in London. I was still looking for something, some sign of this London adventure.

I wore my new crimson red pantsuit and pink suede boots. Sitting on the bench across from the bar. Then, above all the music and people talking, I heard a guy say, “Carl Palmer is here.” I didn’t know who that was, but he sounded important. So I walked into the other room and looked around for someone I never met. That was a weird feeling. There was also something about that name that I liked. Maybe it was because it sounded like the word caramel, my favorite candy.

Below is a list of concerts from that week. It gives a clue.

Another night, the guys who lived upstairs invited us to a party they were having. I remember meeting David Knights. I wore my crimson-colored outfit again with the dusty rose sweater underneath the jacket. I was 19 and still a virgin; he was six years older than me. He was good-looking, a nice guy, and I liked him. I had heard from my friends that he didn’t want to talk about the band, so I didn’t say anything about it. I can’t remember what we talked about, but we eventually fell asleep together after talking,

The day we left London, he was at the flat and came to the train station to say goodbye. I was sitting inside the train, and as the train was about to start, he put his hand on the window, and I put my hand on the other side. And I never saw him again. We wrote a few letters, and I called him from the US.

I love the Procol Harum song “Homburg.” For me, the music was so enchanting and regal. It wasn’t until years later, when I understood the lyrics, that I had to laugh:

“Your trouser cuffs are dirty

and your shoes are laced up wrong

you’d better take off your homburg

‘cos your overcoat is too long.”

The songs “Repent Walpurgis”, “Conquistador”, “A Christmas Camel”, and “Kaleidoscope” were magic for me and helped to set me on this road. Knights played on the band’s first three albums, and the 1967 hit “Whiter Shade of Pale” is one of the best-selling singles in history. I love seeing David in the Procol Harum videos on YouTube.

Several years ago, I discovered that David had been in a band called Ruby in 1972, and they recorded an album in 1974 called Red Crystal Fantasies. He’s credited with bass, acoustic guitar, and vocals and wrote four of its ten songs. After that, my friends in England didn’t hear from him. They only knew that he got married and moved out into the country.

As we left the flat to drive to the train station, a friend, Sonia, visited Marg. She had heard we were all there visiting. She came over to invite us to Led Zeppelin’s party. She had known them since the early Grande days.

I was getting into the car when I thought about it, but I was all packed with tickets and a passport. I couldn’t change my plans. I had a secretarial job to get back to. But something extraordinary does happen a year later at a concert in Detroit.

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