The late 50s was the height of the English traditional jazz boom and
Soho was a Mecca for trad' fans who headed for the clubs of Ken Colyer and
Humphrey Lyttleton. But by far the most successful venue was the Cy Laurie
Club.
Unlike some of his fellow New Orleans jazz revivalists, Cy never made
the charts but his club was by far the most popular. Situated in scruffy Ham
Yard, at the junction of Great Windmill and Archer Street, it was entered by
going through a set of doors it shared with a strip-club and a boxing gym. (Ham
Yard was used by the street traders of Rupert Street to store their barrows.)
A dingy staircase descended into a vast basement that was used as a
dance rehearsal room during the day. There was little in the way of décor, just
hardwood floors and a few dilapidated sofas, alongside minimal lighting and a
PA system that worked only intermittently.
Refreshments - limited to soft drinks and crisps - were dispensed from
a crude bar next to some equally crude toilets.
Despite the dismal surroundings Cy's band drew an enormous following
from, initially, art school students with a distinctly bohemian bent.
Drainpipe trousers and Jesus-sandals were de rigeur for guys, along
with Bardot hairstyles for females and compulsory duffel coats for both sexes.
The club's fame soon spread and at the weekends hundreds of fans from
the suburbs packed into the smoke-filled basement, all jiving wildly as Cy
waved his clarinet in front of his six piece stomping group.
The craziest scenes were at the occasional all-niters that drew much
unfavourable reporting from the popular press. (Although drugs were used by
jazz musicians they were very rarely seen amongst their audiences.)
When
the sessions finished at eleven most of the kids ran for the late night buses
and tubes back to the suburbs, but the few who hung about often ended up in the
small hours in the only place around that stayed open through the night - a big
greasy spoon caff in the middle of Archer Street audaciously named The Harmony
Inn.
Archer
Street ran behind Great Windmill Street and was home to the Musician's Union
offices. On Monday mornings in the 50s and 60s all manner of musicians would
gather there to find engagements for dance bands, jazz groups and even
classical orchestras. (Recently, BBC4's Jazz Britannia series aired a documentary
about it called The Street.)
Everything about The Harmony was unsavoury. Grubby Formica tables and
chairs were ranged around a dismal counter in a totally bland room; the only
colour was the red and white shirts on the table football teams. The most
exotic fare was a cheese sandwich, tea and foul Camp coffee.
The clientele were even more dubious. The late-night trad' fans who
drifted in had little in common with the Harmony Inn's regulars. The customers
that it attracted after midnight were drawn from the spivs, petty and major
criminals that gave Soho a bad name: Billy Hill, Tony Muller, Ronnie Chambers,
Mick the Hammer, and the Capone figure of Jack Spot.
The caff was presided over by Dixie France who was allegedly a police
informer who gave evidence at the Hanratty murder trial (and mysteriously
committed suicide shortly after Hanratty was hanged in 1962.)
Those in the know said that there was an arsenal of weapons under the
counter ready for any emergencies, mostly the punch-ups that arose over the
football machine that occupied one corner of the room.
There was also a downstairs room used as a private club. Details of
what occurred there are sketchy but are said to involve a pair of West Indian
girls whose dancing skills were much 'admired'.
Alongside the heavies and trad-merchants, The Harmony was also the
hang-out for a group of modern jazz musicians that had formed around tenor-sax
man Ronnie Scott. (Jazz Modernists would have no truck with trad' which they
considered an anachronism. Their heroes were the New York bop musicians like
Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie and Thelonius Monk.)
The audience for modern jazz was relatively small and there was no
central venue for it in the West End, but the Harmony Inn played a crucial role
in its development.
Ronnie Scott's Club house-magazine editor Jim Godbolt recalls:
"We (including Ronnie Scott, Peter King, Benny Green, Derek Humble, Tony
Crombie and Jimmy Deuchar) were all sitting in the Harmony Inn in Archer
Street, near Piccadilly, one day in January 1953 when we conceived the idea of
forming a nine piece co-operative band and it turned out to be one of the
better ideas we had that year."
The Harmony cafe crew would go on to set the foundations for modern
jazz in England.
© Steve Fletcher