EEL PIE ISLAND
Eel Pie Island - on the river Thames near Hampton Court. Did you ever go? Looking back I have some regrets that I didn't, even though I lived not far away, but in those days it had something of a 'reputation' - a little unsavoury and not exactly safe (Ron Rubin remembers the point of his double bass 
disappearing through the floor boards.) It was probably nothing of the sort and there was certainly good music played there. But Wimbledon Town Hall or the smokey rooms at the Crown at Morden or the Six Bells in Chelsea were more acceptable to my south-west London parents. Mind you, at fourteen I was taking myself to Kingston Empire to witness the end of Variety which couldn't even be saved by the static nude shows they introduced. As someone said - my parents probably didn't realise what was on the bill!
Dan Van Der Vat and Michele Whitby have now written a book about Eel Pie Island, published by Frances Lincoln Ltd. but click here for a closer look, and click here for the full Publisher's description which includes:
'EEL PIE ISLAND is the only inhabited island on the semi-tidal Thames. Its most famous contemporary resident, Trevor Baylis, OBE, inventor of the clockwork radio, has been heard to describe it (with some exaggeration) as "120 drunks clinging to a mudbank".
Named for the favoured snack of Henry VIII, who was said to stop here on his way to and from Windsor ... in the middle of the twentieth century it was a venue for jazz and later English R&B groups, where the likes of Chris Barber or George Melly, and then the Rolling Stones or Rod Stewart, performed in the dancehall of the hotel. A surprising number of people all over Britain and beyond remember Eel Pie Island and its gigs - usually with a nostalgic smile.'
Trombone player Mel Henry remembers Eel Pie Island (See article below carried over from December):
'The recent article about Eel Pie Island brought back memories. I DID play there in the 50s - with the University College Jazz Band (only one of us actually went to U.C.). In those days, we had to get there on the chain ferry (no bridge). Our drummer lost some of his kit on the journey - not a good start. Then the piano in the old hotel was right in the crack - our pianist just sat in front of it all evening without playing a note. Finally, the landlord refused to pay us because of no piano player. The raucous crowd couldn't have cared less, even if none of us played a note! Much later, I was a G.P. in the area and one of my patients was a cello maker - lovely guy - he had a workshop on the island until it burnt down in a big fire in about 1990.'
© Sandy Brown Jazz 2009-2010