The last time I saw Peter in person, was after a lapse of
about twenty years. That was at Johnny Roadhouse's funeral, a little over a
year ago, where his brother Geoffrey Wheeler, read out a beautiful eulogy to
Johnny. We also bumped into banjoist Howard Shepherd and ex-mainstream
Old-Fashioned Love Band drummer (from Randy Colville's version of the band),
Frank Gibson, saxist Brian Crowther, Jeff Logue, and others. But Peter looked
so fit and well, almost unchanged from when I had last bumped into him in
1988 or 1989, that it is very difficult to believe that he has left us.
I was in Manchester up to 1989, when I left to be a Government Linguist at
Cheltenham. Peter had always known me as a Jazz musician. That's how and why
we first met at Studio One in Piccadilly in January 1962; he was the
Presenter and Trevor Hill, his Boss, was the Producer of the Jazz programme
that Tony Smith's Jazzmen were playing on. Peter and most of the members of
the band, remained good friends ever since, but our paths (Peter's and
mine) never crossed often enough for my liking, as he was always such great
company whenever we met over drinks or a meal; but we were both so busy in
our separate work commitments, meetings were limited to coincidence. I had
recently been, probably very shortly before he died, trying to
agree with him on a day to have a meal together, somewhere in the Knutsford
area (although I live in Longsight, Manchester now), with a view to
discussing the promotion of a book that is, as I write, being published in
the USA. He would have been absolutely ideal for the presentation,
especially since he had known me so long, and knew for decades all
about the research I had been doing on the book. He was happy for me that it
was about to hit the presses. I am deliberately not mentioning the title of
my book or any other details; it would be highly inappropriate here.
I also wanted to be able to give him something
back for the favours he did, with pleasure and for no monetary gain
whatsoever, for not only myself, but many members of the local Jazz scene.
In my case, this was in the shape of two presentations at Manchester's Free
Trade Hall, both during the late 1960s, when the Jazz band that I was
playing in - The Zenith Six - did a couple of two-band shows with, sharing
the stage with 1) Chris Barber's Jazz Band and 2) a very prominent northwest-based
folk group - The Four Folk. On both occasions, Peter came along, gave all
concerned a magnificent build-up in his impeccable and thoroughly
professional style, that really set the ball rolling! He infused us with
tremendous belief in ourselves and a teenage-like enthusiasm, to perform at
our very best. And, when the counting up of all the empty seats was weighed
up at the end of the evening, knowing that we hadn't even broken even on the
finances (our bands were running the concert privately, with limited capital
and at great risk), he would not on either occasion, accept a penny from
anyone for his crucial contribution. This was especially magnanimous of him,
being such a star broadcaster of his day, who could have commanded very high
fees. The entire Jazz community in Manchester worshipped the ground
Peter walked on, for that and ever so many other things he did
selflessly, to help promote Jazz.
I now wanted Peter and his company to benefit from the
promotion I was attempting to organise for my book - a
self-publishing/print-on-demand deal with a US publisher. They carry
out promotion mainly in the USA and Canada, for which I had already
paid large amounts extra. The British side was down to me; so Peter and his
unique, highly polished broadcasting style, would have been the ideal
candidate. Nothing would have given me greater pleasure. Even up to
about April or May, he didn't want to charge me anything for the
presentation. That was the way I have always remembered Peter; his last
words to me about this matter, were "I'm not going to charge you for
this, Joe". I have set money aside for promotion; so I carried on
insisting; but we never got to that final stage, and in my concentration on
the final preparation for publishing, I fell out of contact, and
clearly missed seeing or hearing any news about his death. No longer being a
member of the local Jazz scene, there are no 'grapevine' news trickling in,
as they used to in Manchester's "golden era", probably
because there are not many of us alive now. I am kicking myself for not
having even made it to his funeral. He was such a special friend.
On a lighter note, I remember his wonderful sense of humour,
his superb impersonation of regional dialects. At BBC, Broadcasting House,
Piccadilly, Manchester, in the old "steam radio" days,
before he read the news out aloud to the listeners, he would spend hours
practising the texts and phrasing of the News in several, totally different
and obtuse dialects. His "Geordie" was outstanding! (I know,
because I was born in Newcastle!). And he would read the News out in
several kinds of comedy phraseology, so he could remember everything better
when he was doing it before the microphone. He would have everyone in
stitches, as he could impersonate specific characters very well, and he was
a marvellous raconteur. Peter remembered the names of hundreds of us
musicians on the Manchester Jazz scene, and of other types of performers he
met in other spheres of his broadcasting activities. His memory was
remarkable. We all loved him to bits - in a masculine way - I
hasten to add! He was a thorough gentleman and generous
to a fault. A fan of "Crown Court", "What the Papers
Say", "My Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen" and other TV
programmes in which he took part on Granada or the BBC, either as an
actor or for voice-overs, my poor old Mum, Pepita, thought the world of
Peter, and being a bit celebrity-mad, she almost swooned when I
introduced her to Peter at the Free Trade Hall. She went away looking
like a love-stricken teenager!
I shall always find time to pray for the eternal repose of
his soul, while remembering his many quips and funny accents, which will
make me giggle uncontrollably while praying. Belated though this may be,
goodbye good Jazz-loving friend Peter. Look out for me at the local
celestial Jazz club - if they allow sitters-in who play Mainstream, the evil
flute and things!!!