Robert Wilson Gave Us Our Big Break

The Courier and Advertiser (3) – November 1966

On the eve of his departure for Australia, farmer and dance band leader Ian Powrie continues the story of his life.

Robert Wilson gave us our big break by IAN POWRIE

BETWEEN 1949 and 1952 there were several changes in the band, hastened by my brother, Bill, being called into the army.

At that time, Pam Brough, my pianist, decided to leave to spend more time with her growing family. The line-up then read- Jimmy Blue on accordion, Sandy McArthur on supporting accordion, George Grant on drums, Bert Smith on bass, Gordon Clark on piano and myself on violin. This was a very good band and we all worked hard to make it so.

Jimmy Blue’s arrival reminds me of one engagement in the North during a blizzard. We loaded the big Packard with our gear. Underneath everything was the spare wheel.

CUP OF TEA

As we drove north, conditions deteriorated. To cheer ourselves up, we stopped at Grantown for a cup of tea. When we came back to the car, it had developed a list. A tyre was flat. There was nothing for it but to unload everything and put on the spare. By, the time we changed wheels and repacked we were well behind schedule. On the coast road, near Forres we were surprised to find spring-like conditions. The roads were clear of snow and the fields were green. When we reached the Elgin

hall two hours late, we found a large crowd getting very impatient. The rest of us were experienced enough to know that

we would be greeted by some harsh words. So we sent our new recruit, Jimmy Blue, in first to explain. Naturally the comments directed at him were none too complimentary. However, the dance turned out a great success. To compensate the dancers for their wait, we paid for an extra half-hour. Another memory came during the “On Tour” programme in 1961.

DOG-TIRED

We had been playing at a dance in Aberdeen. From there, we had to drive through the night to Renfrew Airport for a morning flight to Stornaway. Our rehearsal call for the show was scheduled for mid-morning. We drove all through the night, still in our band uniforms, stopped for a quick cup of tea at Mickie Ainsworth’s house in Scone, then dashed to Renfrew. Within hours, we were hard at it rehearsing in Stornaway. After rehearsals several members of the band were near to tears.  One actually broke down. We were dog-tired and the extra-special effort put into the important rehearsal drained everyone mentally and physically. The following year brought a funny experience – which also taught us a lesson.

While in Glasgow, I took the opportunity to buy two big tins of paint. I put them in the back of the band bus and we set off for home. On the way the conversation started to get heated. To emphasise a point, crashed my foot down. Unfortunately, it landed on the brake pedal. The paint shot forward from the back of the bus. The lid came off one tin and white gloss paint almost smothered Arthur Easson, my drummer. When we let him off at Callander, he was in a terrible state. Back at my farm we had to strip down the whole bus and wash it out with paraffin. Not an ideal chore for three in the morning. Our chats in the bus were much more restrained after that.

SNOWDRIFT

In the winter of 1962 after playing a “White Heather Club”, we were forced to abandon the bus in a blizzard. With traffic piling up on the main road 1 decided to try back roads, which I heard had been cleared by snowplough. On the Glendevon Road conditions worsened. We ended in a drift which virtually covered the bus. We struggled to my farm, about five miles away, on foot. Early next day 1 returned to dig out the bus. The road home was still impassable. Eventually I had to drive over 60 miles to reach the farm – a point-to-point distance of only 5 miles!

A Christmas I remember with some feeling is that of 1963. We had been booked, along with Andy Stewart, for a special programme to be inserted into a marathon TV show for Christmas Day. Accompanied by a camera team, we boarded an R.A.F. transport plane at Turnbridge bound for Shetland. On arrival we were bundled in to a bus and driven through the island. Then we boarded a boat and sailed to the island of Yell where another boat was waiting. Through Yell we went and on to another boat to take us to Unst. Eventually we reached our destination and, after a lengthy rehearsal, taped a wonderful show. Of course, we had to travel back in exactly the same fashion. After all that, our show yielded only 2 minutes of film for the ‘spectacular’.

People often ask when my band broke through to the big time and I always find difficulty in pinning this down.  I think a lot of our success could be attributed to Robert Wilson on the “Personal Appearance” radio series. During the show’s run, it built up a tremendous audience, mainly thanks to Robert’s popularity. He really was a first-class person. I have him to thank for our breakthrough into records.  After a programme in Inverness, I was having a wee blether with Robert when he said, “You know, Ian, it’s a wonder you haven’t tried recordings.”

BEST SELLER

I told him we had tried but finished results had been none too successful. I felt our lack of success had been due to inexperience. “Well, man” he said, “You’re making the kind of sound I like to hear. I think I’ll drop my recording manager a line.”  He was as good as his word and I was asked to make a test-recording by Robert’s recording manager – none other than George Martin, the man who looks after the Beatles’ disc interests today. That test turned out to be the most successful recording the band has ever made. It was also one of our best sellers. It was called “Bothy Ballads for the Gay Gordons”.

The Courier and Advertiser (3) – November 1966 cont/…

In 1960 I was faced with a big decision. Things were going well for the band, and I had to make up my mind whether I was going to be a fiddle player or a farmer.  The White Heather Club was getting under way and we had formed a bond with Andy Stewart, who occasionally took over as host from Robert Wilson. Things looked bright for us, so the whole band turned professional.  Leila and I moved from Bankhead to a house in Perth to settle down in my new life as a full-time musician.

SPARE TIME

I enjoyed life in the Fair City, but quickly found I was having a lot of time on my hands. After dashing about on a farm during the day then flying off to engagements, life in Perth was foreign to me. After 14 months in the new bungalow I got a chance to buy West Kirkton Farm, near Auchterarder. I jumped at it. But later, I must confess, I was worried about the move. With the passing years my worries were dispelled as property prices increased. My busiest year was 1962. The band had been booked for a 23-week season in the Glasgow Empire with Andy Stewart and, during the day, I was hard at it on the farm. At harvest time I was driving tractors and organising everything before dashing off to Glasgow at tea-time. After I’d left, Leila kept on working. Occasionally she phoned me at the theatre to keep me in the picture. One night she phoned to say she’d managed to get the last 40 bales under cover. You’ve no idea how pleased and happy I was with her effort, especially when rain poured down the following morning. Only the farming fraternity will appreciate fully how much her achievement meant to me.