prestige.
Yet Simeon was sad to have annoyed the enchanting dark handsome lady who had become a goddess. His eyes were always drawn to a beauty mole on the face of that charming and gracious headmistress who reigned over an all too brief magical and happy period of his life. A woman held in great affection by all her subjects, a queen who filled the school with sunshine and love. Love! That was the one word which continued to re-occur. The love from, and to, Mary McLening permeated the very fabric of the building and hallowed the ground of William Howitt Secondary Modern School.
At the Market Cafe, Simeon chose from various items on toast costing 'one and something'. 'Something and chips' went into the two shilling mark, add three pennies for a cup of tea. The cafe had two halves. To the right of the central corridor was the snack bar and to the left a quieter dining room for meals. Above the clatter of pots, cutlery, comings and goings and the continuous hum of conversation, the young diner could hear and enjoy melodic strains which travelled across the two rooms and passageway. The music came from something very un-Heanor, something new and different, something rather like Simeon's dream car: a space aged, push buttoned chrome and gaudily illuminated cabinet called a 'jukebox' which needed to be fed a threepenny bit for one play, a silver sixpence for two plays, or five plays for a silver shilling. Fascinated eyes watched a mechanical arm lift selected popular 7" 45 rpm records and place them precisely on an automatic deck. As the needle fell into the lead groove, an anticipatory delicious electronic 'thud' would precede the ecstatic sounds to follow.
For the teenager in the next room munching through his beans on toast (or whatever) - this was the birth of real music. The charts of 1959 and 1960 were the very epicentre of his musical experience. Simeon Hogg would spend the rest of his life worshipping at that shrine of talented excellence. He will, forever more, listen with nostalgic reverence to the lush orchestrations and sexy boyish voices which sang out through that small window of creativity. Marty Wilde, Bobby Vee and Adam Faith crystallised and defined his fresh green hopes, inspired his dreams and fuelled his fantasies.
One day he was entranced by what seemed like a sweet sounding choir of angels ascending and descending the scale, complemented by a resonant twangy bass guitar. Into this euphonious mix came, exactly at the right time, a deep masculine voice with just a hint of the sexy adolescent croak so typical of this new young genre. He could easily have been mistaken for Elvis but, these dulcet tones were a touch lighter and, for Simeon's taste, with great respect to the King - better. This sensuous singer had composed both the music and lyrics for this beautiful work which lasted barely more than a precious two minutes. After such an orgasmic audible experience, in complete contrast to the hateful pious dirges of just a stone's throw away; this new music now became an important part of his life at William Howitt Secondary Modern School.
During the following weeks, the same record was played every day. Simeon struggled to hang on to those illusive, hypnotic notes, above the ambient din of the busy Market Cafe. A few occasional words were discerned -
" ... and in the evening, by the moonlight ... "
He knew not the name of the singer nor the song title to be able to ask for it in a record shop. A pointless exercise not possessing a record player, let alone the expensive seven shillings needed to purchase. Eventually the time came when, nervously, this scruffy youth entered a shop and held the precious vinyl disc, with its grooved integral encoded magical music, bearing the legend - "Maybe
Yet Simeon was sad to have annoyed the enchanting dark handsome lady who had become a goddess. His eyes were always drawn to a beauty mole on the face of that charming and gracious headmistress who reigned over an all too brief magical and happy period of his life. A woman held in great affection by all her subjects, a queen who filled the school with sunshine and love. Love! That was the one word which continued to re-occur. The love from, and to, Mary McLening permeated the very fabric of the building and hallowed the ground of William Howitt Secondary Modern School.
At the Market Cafe, Simeon chose from various items on toast costing 'one and something'. 'Something and chips' went into the two shilling mark, add three pennies for a cup of tea. The cafe had two halves. To the right of the central corridor was the snack bar and to the left a quieter dining room for meals. Above the clatter of pots, cutlery, comings and goings and the continuous hum of conversation, the young diner could hear and enjoy melodic strains which travelled across the two rooms and passageway. The music came from something very un-Heanor, something new and different, something rather like Simeon's dream car: a space aged, push buttoned chrome and gaudily illuminated cabinet called a 'jukebox' which needed to be fed a threepenny bit for one play, a silver sixpence for two plays, or five plays for a silver shilling. Fascinated eyes watched a mechanical arm lift selected popular 7" 45 rpm records and place them precisely on an automatic deck. As the needle fell into the lead groove, an anticipatory delicious electronic 'thud' would precede the ecstatic sounds to follow.
For the teenager in the next room munching through his beans on toast (or whatever) - this was the birth of real music. The charts of 1959 and 1960 were the very epicentre of his musical experience. Simeon Hogg would spend the rest of his life worshipping at that shrine of talented excellence. He will, forever more, listen with nostalgic reverence to the lush orchestrations and sexy boyish voices which sang out through that small window of creativity. Marty Wilde, Bobby Vee and Adam Faith crystallised and defined his fresh green hopes, inspired his dreams and fuelled his fantasies.
One day he was entranced by what seemed like a sweet sounding choir of angels ascending and descending the scale, complemented by a resonant twangy bass guitar. Into this euphonious mix came, exactly at the right time, a deep masculine voice with just a hint of the sexy adolescent croak so typical of this new young genre. He could easily have been mistaken for Elvis but, these dulcet tones were a touch lighter and, for Simeon's taste, with great respect to the King - better. This sensuous singer had composed both the music and lyrics for this beautiful work which lasted barely more than a precious two minutes. After such an orgasmic audible experience, in complete contrast to the hateful pious dirges of just a stone's throw away; this new music now became an important part of his life at William Howitt Secondary Modern School.
During the following weeks, the same record was played every day. Simeon struggled to hang on to those illusive, hypnotic notes, above the ambient din of the busy Market Cafe. A few occasional words were discerned -
" ... and in the evening, by the moonlight ... "
He knew not the name of the singer nor the song title to be able to ask for it in a record shop. A pointless exercise not possessing a record player, let alone the expensive seven shillings needed to purchase. Eventually the time came when, nervously, this scruffy youth entered a shop and held the precious vinyl disc, with its grooved integral encoded magical music, bearing the legend - "Maybe
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