By
John Cookson,Senior Correspondent, Sky News
By
John Cookson,John Cookson visited the Yeoman Rose in August 1997.
His subsequent report for Sky was broadcast worldwide.
It had been 30 long years since I'd last heard her. But, as we
neared the Essex coast, my cameraman, Sid, tuned the car radio into 266 metres
and three decades just rolled away! Of course, the music jolted the senses,
but it was the "Big L" jingles which really brought a lump to my throat and
caused the memories to flood back. Suddenly, like time travellers, we were motoring
through the Essex countryside in the Swinging Sixties, Harold Wilson was in
Number 10 and Mark Roman was on the radio!
No! It couldn't be so long since "Wonderful Radio London" had entered my life
for the first time. Then, as an excited kid in the back streets of a Yorkshire
town, I'd virtually glued my dad's transistor radio to my ear. Despite the crackle
of static and the fading, I was mesmerised by something new and fantastic. Previously
we'd only heard the staid BBC Light Programme and Luxy (Radio Luxemberg 208)
on a good night. But wow! Now, there was Radio London and Caroline and 270,
with friendly disc jockeys playing our music and having fun! Yes, I and millions
of others, were instantly hooked on the pop pirates and, for me, Radio London
truly ruled the airwaves.
Three decades later, as a senior correspondent with Sky News, I was ostensibly
making a report about Radio London's temporary return. But it was much more;
I was on a sentimental journey back to my youth. I caught my first sight of
the "Yeoman Rose" from Walton sea front. It was a perfect summer's day and the
North Sea was sparkling and flat calm beneath a denim blue sky. What the likes
of Kenny Everett, Tony Blackburn and Tony Windsor would have given for this.
You could have almost swum out to the ship, instead of facing hours, as they
did, on a tender in stomach-churning weather.
I was still wallowing in memories of my youth - a phenomenal period made more
extraordinary by an explosion of music and fashion - when the tender collected
cameraman Sid and myself from the end of Walton pier. Within minutes we were
aboard, accompanied by Big L News Director Tom Collins, and being welcomed by
Chris Elliot and colleagues. Below decks was best described as "basic". God,
it was very basic! Like the pirates of old, the studios and mess areas seemed
cramped. I was wondering what it was like working the Big L stints in the Sixties.
Getting on with your fellow jocks and the crew would have been essential, because
there was nowhere to escape to! If anyone had an annoying habit, well, you were
bloomin' stuck with it for at least two weeks.
During our visit, two of the great names from pop pirate history, Ed "Stewpot"
Stewart and Tony "Bird Brain" Brandon, were also making a sentimental return
to Big Lil, after 30 years. Amazingly, although Tony had filled out a bit and
Ed had one or two grey hairs (haven't we all!), neither looked a lot different
and scrambled aboard like 2-year-olds! Certainly the familiar wit and repartee
soon started, with both reminiscing about the "old days" and the "Summer of
Lurrve"! I asked if they thought the same spirit could ever be recaptured on
shore. Ed thought not. "There was something special about being on a pirate
radio ship in the North Sea, in a roaring gale in winter," he said. "You obviously
can't recreate that in a studio on land and that's what gave pirate radio its
special magic and appeal to millions of listeners."
Earlier Tom challenged me to read a news bulletin for him... and I knew that
at some point I was probably going to be humiliated big time, and almost certainly
live on air!
I'd mastered my best Paul Kaye voice and with "The Wombat" at the controls,
my maiden bulletin was going amazingly well, complete with the Big L morse code
jingle between each item. Then, towards the end, my worst fears were confirmed.
News Director Tom suddenly handed me a piece of paper containing "breaking news".
In the first line of this mysterious late item, was the name of an African ruler,
Sir Abubakka Tafawa Beliawa, and other assorted friends. Reading at speed and
not having seen or heard the name before I was completely derailed!
Perhaps for the first time in a Big L bulletin, the reader, namely me, blurted
out, "I'M NOT READING THIS. IT'S RUBBISH!" All about me collapsed in gales of
laughter. The weather report that followed was a disaster and my humiliation
was complete!
I hope it brought a smile to the listeners because in the best spirit, and "the
best possible taste", it was meant to.
Our filming over, Sid and I headed ashore. To our amazement, as we drove down
the M11, in the following new bulletins we heard the Big L news reader mention
our visit and my newsreading gaff. That was straight out of the Big L book of
long ago and what made the station so dramatically different and better than
the stuffy old Beeb (BBC).
I'm glad I went on what was a personal odyssey. Sure, the ship was different
and some of the characters from 30 years ago can never be heard again. But believe
me, Big L's spirit lives. Not surprising really, because she is, and will always
be, a sparkling and extraordinary chapter in broadcasting history.