Bill Wilkie MBE
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It is a summer’s evening in the early ‘30’s and ‘Pole Hill’, 4 ½ miles E.N.E. of Perth sports one big bell tent, the combined base and quarters of a cub-scout summer camp.
One ten year old cub returning with milk from a nearby farm is passing the bothy and is drawn like a magnet by the lilting music emanating from this ‘howf’. It is irresistible, and in he goes to find one of the traditional – if you’ll pardon the expression – combinations of those times, a farm servant and a melodeon.
Up to this point he had been more acquainted with the sound of the fiddle and the mouth organ, being no mean performer himself on the latter. This is his first real live encounter with a member of the accordion family, and he is completely hooked by the clear tone of the instrument and the lift in the music.
Such is his enthusiasm that he joins the player in a box / ‘moothie’ duet and even manages to borrow the instrument in his tent. He takes to it like a ‘duck to water’, the accordion bug has got him, never to let go.
Twelve years later and in start contrast to that chance encounter in the fine Perthshire countryside, we find our ‘scout’ now in the R.A.F. and a talented piano accordion player to boot, entertaining the troops in Northern India, on the borders of Kashmir and what is now Pakistan, at an altitude of at least ten times that of the aforementioned 945ft Pole Hill.
At this height the rarefied atmosphere is causing respiratory problems for all but the accordion, the stage hands with the Concert Party are “peching like steam engines” and the singer cannot get his vocal chords to “fire” properly, if at all.
Now coming right up to date, in fact, slightly ahead, to the evening of Saturday 28th October, 1989. Perth City Hall is packed to capacity and our mouthorgan playing cub, now resplendent in silver dinner jacket, breezes onto centre stage at a pace that would make a Light Infantry march look like a ‘geriatrics’ outing – raises a baton, the thirty piece orchestra launches into its signature tune ‘El Relicario’ and the annual Perth Accordion and Fiddle Festival Concert is under way.
But this year’s event has a special significance – yes, the one and only Bill Wilkie has made it ’40 not out’. A tremendous achievement by any standards. Come to think of it, he should have been wearing a red jacket (ruby).
Bill is living proof of the expression ‘human dynamo’. What makes him tick or rather whirr, - to find out I went along to his business premises in Perth’s Charterhouse Lane / Canal Crescent.
I had seen Bill in action many times at concerts and had been impressed by his youthful appearance, his apparently boundless energy and enthusiasm, his unassuming manner coupled with a slightly ‘harum-scarum’ approach – likely to meet himself coming back – and a great sense of humour, Scotland’s Joe Loss.
But was all this a stage front, an act, - no way. Having spent 3 or 4 hours with him, my lasting impression will be of an effervescent, very genuine, likeable and caring person, with the above mentioned attributes always to the fore and in generous measure out of all proportion to his relatively small stature. Take energy and enthusiasm for example, the average human being would normally ‘baulk’ at the prospect of moving a piano around, but not Bill. When I met him he had been indulging in this ploy to speed up the rehabilitation process after a hernia operation! The mind boggles, but that is his style.
However to go back to the beginning. Bill, the youngest of four (2 sisters and a brother) was born at 21 King Street in Perth in 1922. His father, a self-employed tailor played traditional fiddle and while working in Aberdeen for a time, got to know Scott Skinner, attending several of his concerts. He would recall seeing the great man on occasion, wrapping his pianist over the finders with the bow.
MOUTH ORGAN
Bill’s mother did not play an instrument, but when times got hard in the mid-twenties she took a job as caretaker in Paterson’s Music Shop in Methven Street, and this is where it all started for our maestro.
When he was about 4 or 5 years old, mum brought home his first mouth organ and the musical urge and talent showed even at that tender age. It wasn’t long before he had mastered most of his father’s repertoire.
Now, Paterson’s also had practice studios above the shop and Bill would often accompany his mother and sit on the stairs listening to the big bands rehearsing. About this time, while still a wee lad, he came off his bike and had to lie on his back with an injured foot for the whole of the school summer holiday.
This would have been a disaster for most children, but not for Bill, he listened to the wireless and learned all the big band ballroom tunes on the mouth organ.
THE BRIDGEND MELODY BOYS
By the age of 9 or 10, the talent was obvious for all to see and Willie Scrimgeour, a cousin of Mr Wilkie senior, took Bill to Bridgend Scout Hall where a group called ‘The Bridgend Melody boys’ practiced and gave regular concerts.
Although this was an adult ensemble comprising mandolins and mouth organs, they were so impressed with the young lad’s performance that he was invited to join them. No second bidding was required, Bill thought their sound was the ‘cat’s whiskers’, and before long he had graduated to concert appearances with the group, receiving the princely sum – for those days – of five shillings.
Then came the Pole Hill melodeon episode which awakened the unflagging enthusiasm for the accordion. However, as this was the time of the ‘Great Depression’, money was scarce, and it was two or three years before an accordion materialised. The first instrument, a second hand 48 bass Hohner Verdi I with metal grille and green scroll on the front, was bought from Paterson’s by mother.
Needless to say, Bill got stuck in with boundless enthusiasm, playing mainly by ear at this stage, but attending intermittent music lessons with a teacher from Dundee, a Mr Moonie.
‘Intermittent’ because the instructor didn’t always manage through and sent on written work for practice. Also the classes were group sessions, mainly adults – not very satisfactory.
Bill, aged about 13 at this time and a self confessed showman and entertainer even in those days was forever organising concerts and such-like on the back green.
CAP TO BIG
On leaving school, his first job was with Alexander’s Bus Company as a message boy complete with three-wheel carrier bike and uniform peaked cap.
Bill has never been a giant, but in those days he was really quite small and when for instance he had to take a load of vehicle springs up Perth’s steep Margaret Street, he would carry the springs up one by one and then go back for the bike!
Also, his head was small, his cap was large – “come out below the bonnet till I see yer feet” kind of thing – wearing the cap was mandatory, navigation became a problem, so he left and took up a job as a message boy with Paterson’s.
There, he made the acquaintance of an excellent teacher, a Dr Sarafin, who gave him a first class classical training on the accordion – individual tuition, not group. Now playing a 120 bass Hohner Organola, he practiced like fury in Paterson’s over the weekend and in 1938 entered the first Festival in Dundee taking top place in his class.
This success spurred him to greater efforts and he competed on one or two further occasions at Stirling, Alloa etc., before the war intervened. In the Stirling event playing ‘Hungarian Rhapsody No 2’, he got 191 points out of a possible 200 being beaten into second place by a Charlie Duncan with 192.
It was reflecting on this competitive work in later years which brought home to Bill the usefulness of this type of Festival, which encourages players to strive for their own goals, thereby raising standards. To ‘jump the gun’ a bit, that is why he has always brought over the big International names of the accordion world like Angelo Cardinelli, Emile Decotty, Wolmer Beltrami, Willi Graff, Gervasio Marcosignori, and others as well as Pearl Fawcett and Jack Emblow from nearer home, the idea being to demonstrate the full potential of the instrument.
COLLEGIANS DANCE BAND
But to go back to the mid ‘30’s – during his visits to the Wilkie household ‘shilling a week man’, Jack MacDonald, would sit on the end of the settee listening to Bill play all the popular tunes of the day, ‘The Isle of Capri’ and such like.
Now Jack was drummer with the Perth (New Palais) based ‘Collegians’ Dance Band, he recognised the lads’ potential and it wasn’t long before he had him featured as ‘The band’s latest discovery, - Willie Wilkie, 15 year old piano accordionist playing old-tyme melodies’. The poster advertising on such dance function to be held at the Bridge of Earn Institute on 4th June, 1937, gives 9 p.m. till 2 a.m. ; admission 2/- ; admission plus bus return fare from Perth 2/6!
The ‘Collegians’ line up included saxophones with Angus Glass, the leader on alto and clarinet, Johnny Watts, trumpet, and Allan Gorrie on piano and Jack on drums. It is interesting to note that the pianist in today’s ‘Average White Band’, which incidentally is taking to the road again, is Allan Gorrie junior.
This band i.e. ‘The Collegians’ was somewhat ahead of its time using all American modern arrangements and Bill learned a lot during his time with them, by reading the ‘piano conductor’ copies – i.e. rhythm with melody cued along the top.
He also got a good grounding in correct ballroom dance tempo which has stood him in good stead. The only problem was trying to get up for kirk on a Sunday after a late Saturday night band session.
THE WAR AND ‘THE RAPCATS’
When the war broke out in 1939, the music trade went into decline because the bulk of instruments were imported. Music shops cut down on staff and with the exception of managers, employed women only. Bill was therefore paid off from Paterson’s, did a stint as projectionist in the King’s Cinema, but hated it because he couldn’t get out to play in the evenings.
Fortuitously he met up with an elderly chap, John Lindsay, who was a civilian in the Royal Army Pay Corps, and also played piano. He formed a show called the ‘Rapcats’ (from the initials of the Pay Corps and the Auxiliary Territorial Service), needed an accordionist so got Bill a civvy job in the Pay Corps. The ‘Rapcats’ performed mainly in the Playhouse Cinema. Another accordionist, Lance Corporal D. Pooke of the Black Watch had already been enlisted in the concert party and he and B.W. were teamed up a duettists, also appearing in ‘Garrison Theatre’ productions, raising funds for such causes as the ‘City of Perth Spitfire Fund’.
Also by this time, just after the outbreak of war, Dr Sarafin retired and Bill took over his accordion teaching practice in Perth – a busy man indeed, so what’s new. He had passed all his grade exams but because of wartime restrictions had been unable to take any teaching qualifications, but being sympathetic and sensitive to other people’s natures and feelings, he was a born teacher, a natural. “There’s a lot of psychology in it, say the wrong thing and you’ve killed it. You’re learning all the time – I’m learning yet”.
A few years earlier, about 1935, another chance meeting which was to have a major impact of Bill’s life was with a bus driving (Alexanders’) fiddle player. Monty (Moncrieff) Groundwater. A son of the Congregational Church in Couper Angus, Monty had seen B.W. playing with ‘The Bridgend Melody Boys’ liked his style, and some time later invited him along to the manse for a tune, where he met Monty’s two brothers, and more importantly, his sister Ena – now Mrs Bill Wilkie.
Ena, as well as being organist in her father’s church, and a local dance band pianist, also worked in Watson’s China Hall in Perth. If ever the expression ‘she is his right arm’ applied, it would be so in Ena’s case, but more about that later.
CALL UP
Back to 1940 and Bill was raring to get into the forces and “get at ‘em”, but he was the last of his group to go. Courting strong by this time, he was called up into the R.A.F. , doing his initial training at Redcar in Yorkshire.
In retrospect and wishing he had done so earlier, Bill in fact did not disclose his accordion playing abilities until the passing out festivities when he teamed up with the elderly, moustached, Warrant Officer who, although a lousy player, quite fancied himself as a pianist. As later events were to show our man’s ‘box’ certainly proved to be a useful lever and passport.
Posted to Kinnell, near Friockheim, in Angus, he enquired about the possibility of becoming a musician in the R.A.F., only to be told there were no vacancies and in any case, musicians were classed as Group 5, the lowest of the low (latrine emptying etc).
By contrast Bill’s brother, Joe, a great wireless enthusiast was in Group 1, Radar. At Kinnell, Bill went in as a works hand – this included chippies, brickies, Irish navvies, the lot. On his first day, a big sergeant took him to a circle of big stones and ordered him to paint them white, “No way”, said our hero. When the sergeant returned at dinner-time Bill hadn’t even opened the tin, so he was marched in front of the W.O., an old flying corps man who resembled and undertaker, complete with pipe and mustache. This hapless soul had to listen patiently while Bill laid off, “I could set up a concert party, run your dance band, and what do you do, give me some stones to paint! A waste of manpower”. The cheek of it, but another facet of the B.W. style, and it paid off.
Next day, he started as the W.O.’s clerk. He duly formed a concert party and dance band, and after a brief posting to Aberdeen, returned to Kinnell, whence he went on loan to Tealing, where he joined that station’s entertainment section as a solo accordionist doing garrison theatre shows in such venues as the Kings in Dundee and Perth’s Alhambra.
RALPH READER GANG SHOW
Then his flight was posted to Romney Marshes, in Kent, where they liased with the Irish navvies who were laying the Somerville tracking to permit the landing of disabled aircraft. This duty involved walking miles across the bleak wastes, Bill got fed up, went to the base at Hawkinge and asked for a change.
For the average serviceman, this would have meant the ‘firing squad’, or detention at the very least, but not for B.W. As luck would have it service entertainers were needed, Ralph Reader (Squadron Leader in charge of official R.A.F. entertainment) was notified, and Bill was summoned back off leave to an audition in a London theatre. He had to perform in front of the Squadron Leader himself and his ‘hencemen’. And the verdict from Ralph Reader – “Right, young Bill, you’re in, come and meet the rest of the gang”. And some gang, - two of the members were none other than Norrie Paramor of dance orchestra fame, and the late Peter Sellers. Illustrious company, right enough, speaks volumes for Bill’s standard, - he had a good technique and was really ahead of his time. He also developed an ambition to arrange for big dance bands. This was inspired by his association with Norrie Paramor, who could write out complicated arrangements and hold a conversation at the same time.
Gang Show No. 10 (there were to be 12 in all) now being complete, they were kitted out by stage furnishing suppliers in London, and launched into a three week rehearsal period before going on tour.
The shows were full blown productions and included such items as scenes from Dickens’ novels with Bill taking the part of Fagan, complete with busy black beard.
Before going abroad, the gang ‘cut their teeth’ in London, - Air Marshall Tedder was at the opening night – in Gloucester, and at all the large R.A.F. stations.
The running-in period over, it was time for the real ‘nitty-gritty’ overseas, in the form of a year’s tour in India, where the morale of our troops was rock bottom – they felt forgotten because of all the focus on the pending Normandy invasion.
Before embarking on the tour, Bill had a spot of leave and got married in June, 1944, his best man being George Taylor of Edinburgh, the comedian with the show, Bill’s brother, Joe (radar), couldn’t get leave at the time to perform the duty.
INDIA
During the 5 week journey to India on a ship called the ‘Mooltan’, the company did two performances nightly in the Officers Mess, and such was the heat, that a whole team of helpers were required to dry shirts etc.
The musical group in the show was the ‘Just Five’ comprising Harry Kane (violin), Bill (accordion), Les Osborne (sax and clarinet), Norrie Paramor, later replaced by Maurice Arnold (piano) and Peter Sellers (drums).
Throughout the voyage, Bill also played for the church services. The experiences during the year’s tour in India would literally fill a book. Space precludes other than the briefest reference in passing. Distances were vast, transport being by every means known to man, much of it primitive in the extreme, e.g. the toilet facilities in a certain grade of railway coach were just holes in the floor. Many of the ancient Dakotas in which the Gang flew had no fuselage doors and one would be sitting on a prop basket looking into space as the aircraft hedge-hopped over the jungle.
A wink of sleep was grabbed as and when possible, bunking down, - usually on stretchers – anywhere, in railway stations, wagons, trains you name it. A typical journey was that from Calcutta in West Bengal to Agra, south of Delhi (home of the Taj Mahal), it took 3 days, arriving at the destination in the afternoon with a show to go on in the evening. The itinerary covered virtually the length and breadth of the Indian sub-Continent, from Karachi in what is now West Pakistan to Calcutta in East Pakistan, Akyab in Burma, down to Kaggala on the southern tip of Ceylon. The last mentioned was…”like a south sea island with lagoons and palms, and beautiful beaches, the nicest place I have ever been to….”.
And there were also vast differences in climate from one region to another, from the delightful temperate conditions in Ceylon to the intense heat and dust of India, to the extreme cold of Upper Topa, in the Muree Hills (where the singer had the previously mentioned vocal chord problem).
At the latter base the coconut oil which was used as hair dressing, froze, cracking the container. This was okay until the descent to a lower altitude and the thaw. Bill’s kit bag was like a lorry sump!
Also at Upper Topa, the Gang met in with a Perth lad, Stanley MacDonald – now a registrar back in the ‘Fair City’ – doing officer training.
The stories Bill has about this tour are legion. To quote just one, Peter Sellers and B.W. who were great buddies had missed the last transport back to base after a night on the town in Karachi and were walking back in the dark with Peter recounting various spooky stories, when they were suddenly confronted with a mob of the natives wailing and brandishing lighted torches. Our bold boys’ hair stood on end, and even more so when they saw a corpse with it’s head fully exposed. This was too much, the pair took to their heels, not stopping until the safety of the camp. How were they to recognise a funeral procession!
The tour, a very arduous one at times, even included a performance for the Maharajah in Chitta Palace. Fever and dysentery also took their toll and at one stage the party were 50% down with the able-bodied deputising.
EUROPE
With the European war now over, it was back home from this marathon, and after a spot of leave, the company did a fortnight on the Isle of Wight, prior to joining up with Gang No. 6 to do a tour of France travelling in a fleet of bid ‘artics’, and playing at some pretty swish spots in Paris, Cannes and elsewhere. Bill, known as ‘Tottie Wee’ – “I’ll just have a wee tottie” – in the Gang Show, often stayed with Peter Sellers and his mother when in London, and they even organised a small flat for him just below them.
When they were leaving for France, Bill slept in, to be wakened by Peter, then off in a terrific aplatter to catch the troop train to Paris, but had to backtrack at one stage to get an accordion which he had left by accident at the Air Ministry, during which excursion, Peter and Bill got separated. To cut a long story short, Bill now accompanied by the Show’s comedian, Cyril, got to the Paris hotel in the middle of the night, feeling jaded and none too well. He undressed and flopped thankfully into bed, and Cyril was standing there “long Johns and nae teeth”, when in breezed three vivacious ‘birds’. “I sleep here”, said one, and “I sleep here”, said another. Our two were aghast, they had been misdirected to a different type of ‘hotel’, and were occupying the work spaces!
The French sojourn was followed by tours of the Rhur Valley, Belgium and Holland. Bill has lasting memories of the horrific devastation in the Rhur, not a building standing in some areas.
During this European circuit there were several happy change meetings with brother, Joe. By this time Bill was in charge of his own Gang Show.
DEMOB AND SOUTHERN DANCE ORCHESTRA
Demob came at the end of 1946and Bill teamed up for a double act with Les Johnson, and English piano and vibes player, doing harmony songs and showpieces from the Gang Shows, such as ‘In the Mood’, ‘Tico Tico’ a wee bit of classical and Scottish, a good mixture for all tastes. Les and Bill were full-time professional in this role for a time, but when an addition to the Wilkie household became imminent, Bill gave this up and went back to Patersons on ‘instrument’ sales. The inverted commas are because instrument in this case mainly covered radios, electric irons etc. This was of no interest to our man and the wages were very poor, but once again good fortune came along in the person of Eddie Connor, who ran the ‘Southern Dance Orchestra’ at the Salutation Hotel.
Eddie was a big name in the local band scene and offered Bill a job as accordionist with the band. At the same time the accordion teaching started up again expanding very rapidly to the point where it was becoming very difficult to fit everything in, so Bill decided to leave Patersons, but the shop was reluctant to let him go, so a compromise was agreed which suited both sides admirably, a three day week, this gradually being phased out over a period.
ADVENTURE AND MISADVENTURE
No-one should be a bit surprised to learn that B.W. loves adventure, as he says “my whole life is just one big adventure, with a fair bit of misadventure thrown in”. For example, when his reaching was at maximum capacity he finished classes at 11 p.m. one November night, had a cup of coffee, put on a heavy camel coat, jumped into his 1934 Morris 10 and drove two of his pupils, Mickie Ainsworth and Ally Watters down to London to compete in the duet class at an Accordion Day Festival in the capital.
On another occasion, in mid-winter a client in Inverness required an amplifier. The weather up the A9 was atrocious, with complete snow blockage at Drumochter but nothing daunted, Bill set off determined to deliver the equipment. At Pitlochry he called in to deliver a metronome to a music pupil. On hearing that he was continuing north, the pupil’s father, a snow plough driver, said he was mad. However, it was a case of ‘they’re all out of step except our Jock’, B.W.’s spirit of adventure took over and he pressed on. When he did arrive on the doorstep in Inverness, complete with gear, the customer looked at him in disbelief, thought he was seeing things, because at that very moment the telly was showing the wall of snow at Drumochter, “How on earth did you make it” – “Just tucked in on the back bumper of the snow plough”. “Surprising it wasn’t the front!”
Wearing his misadventure hat, Bill has had his moments. To quote Jimmy Blue – “There’s no’ enough hedges in Perthshire for you to go through”. In the course of his business and band work, B.W> knocks up huge mileages on the road, a lot of it at night, and in every weather, so by the law of averages there are likely to be the odd hiccups.
As a teacher he is au fait with chord and interval inversions but in August 1959, he tried a variation on the theme with his V.W. van by taking it through the parapet of the Northwater Bridge, near Montrose, and landing it neatly on its roof in a field 40 feet below. He was shaken but unhurt and managed to avoid the hail of heavy wooden stands in metal edged boxes which shot forward.
Mercifully, two other unscheduled excursions had reasonably happy endings, albeit one in Dundee in very poor visibility put Bill out of action for 6 months, when his 2.4 Jaguar intercepted a brewery lorry. The other was black ice in Glenfarg, when an ice hockey team lifted the car bodily out of a hedge – nothing else but these stalwarts could have got sufficient grip.
SENSE OF HUMOUR
Bill’s sense of humour was briefly mentioned in passing – it is highly developed and surfaces all the time, many of the jokes being against himself. He could also see the funny side of his misadventures. A few examples :-
Bill is on the phone speaking live to Robbie Shepherd on ‘Shepherd’s Fancy’ and the fire alarm goes off - he shouts to dial in ‘blah, blah, blah’ into the box but he has mistaken the warning, it was not the fire signal, so the burglar alarm and others start up, - one can only guess at the chaos which ensued.
One very cold day he is driving by the Mound neat Dornoch, when a stone shatters the windscreen, the glass is cleared out and with his eyed watering he heads for Tain to get a replacement when he meets an A.A. Patrolman on his motor cycle combination. In response to the badge on the bumper, the rider gives a snappy salute and then nearly jumps into his sidecar when Bill acknowledges with an equally snappy ‘Heil Hitler’ Nazi gesture through the vacant windscreen!
Jumping ahead a bit to when Bill had his first accordion shop. There is a circus on the small Inch and its organ packs in, so the proprietor heads for Wilkie’s Music Shop for help. Meantime Bill, who to quote his own words “was liable to be brittle at times” is laying off at his wife Ena and her friend Peggy about the state of the shop and things not done. In breezes the Circus owner and quoth he “I’ve got a Circus”, a momentary pause and Bill swings round “You’ve got a Circus!” All present dissolve in mirth.
B.W. is a born impresario and has run concerts since his early teens and starting in the immediate post-war years, has packed the large City Hall and other venues ever since, with his variety shows, reviews and accordion concerts featuring some of the biggest names in show business.
In one of his variety shows there was an exciting dog handling act where a ‘baddie’ with leather arm protection was apprehended by an Alsatian, for molesting a woman. As tumultuous applause died away, there appeared the Wilkie household pet, a wee Cairn Terrier called ‘Mickie’, who was a bacon addict and would beg for hours for a morsel. Bill, armed with the necessary rashers said, “You ain’t seen nuthin’ yet” and proceeded to hold up the bait. But the doggie, more interested in the scent of the Alsatian, ignored him, sniffed his way to the edge of the stage and ‘sprayed’ the footlights. The audience went into hysterics to an accompaniment of hissing steam and popping bulbs.
In another concert, this time at the Festival, it is prize-giving time and Bill is handing over a trophy to a young Scout in uniform. The lad salutes and B.W. reaches out for a handshake, but quick as a flash changes to a salute, just as the Scout, equally quick on the draw stretches out his hand. Much to the delight of the audience the two engage in a windmill impersonation session until they get their act together.
One final example ; there was a certain accordion company executive who insisted on having a spot to address the audience at one of the big concerts despite the fact that time was short, so Bill said “Right, but you’ll have to introduce Jimmy Shand as you finish”. The man was completely overawed by the size of the audience and the footlights and fumbled his way through, only to forget the following artiste. Bill pushed the dithery back on to fulfil his duties and he blurted out “And now ladies and gentlemen, a big shand for Jimmy Hand”.
QUARTET AND ACCORDION ORCHESTRA
Getting back to the mid to late ‘40’s when the Eddie Connor Band wound up, Bill formed his own Quartet with Chick Duncan (clarinet and sax), the late Tommy Duncan (piano) and Davie McInroy (drums).
The group were very versatile but by popular demand played a lot of jazz – at this point in our chat, Bill broke into ‘Rampart Street Parade’, what a swing. In fact, at regular intervals during our session he would illustrate points with his own style of ‘cantarach’ – classical, modern and Scottish, we got a version of ‘Lord Lovat’s Lament’ that would have done credit to Bobby MacLeod.
When Tommy Duncan died, Blanche McInnes took over piano with the Quartet and also with the Bill Wilkie Accordion Orchestra, which was formed in the late ‘40’s. Tommy had also been on piano in the Orchestra, with Blanche accompanying the singers at that time. For quite some time prior to joining the Quartet, she and Bill, had performed as an accordion/piano duet. Sadly, Blanche died a year past December.
Incidentally, the above mentioned Chick Duncan now leads ‘The Golden Era Jazz Band’ , there female vocalist being none other than Diana Colburn, nee Wilkie, daughter of Ena and Bill. Diana’s husband, Billy, is Manager of ‘Wilkie’s New Music House’ of which more anon, and they have two of a family, daughter Sharon (20), a fully trained dancer who runs her own dance wear business and a son, Richard (19), an accomplished snooker player and enthusiast, who not surprisingly is working in a snooker hall. Imagine that, 19 and 20, it really is hard to believe that Bill is old enough to gave grandchildren of this age. One would put him nearer 50 than 67.
To harp back to Bill’s Accordion Orchestra, other pianists were Joan Blue – one of the earliest – and Pam Wilkie (nee Brough), husband Ally being on drums.
The Orchestra has always been recruited from Bill’s pupils and staff and is renowned for its versatility and standard. When working up to a show B.W. doesn’t take time to breathe, he works like fury with the adrenalin pumping and he wants, and gets, perfection. He quoted an instance for example in a final rehersal where he took the orchestra off stage in the middle of ‘Alexander’s Ragtime Band’ and I quote “It was murder polis, but they were playing it by night, I can tell you”.
FESTIVAL
About the time of the Orchestra’s formation, Bill was approached by the N.A.O. (National Accordion Organisation) to run a classical accordion festival for the East and North East of Scotland – not to be sponsored, but to be self financing.
Having already assessed the value of competitive events, Bill agreed, and on Saturday 30th of September, 1950, the first ‘Perth Festival’ or simply ‘Perth’ as it is now affectionately known, took place in the City Halls.
This first event was officially labelled ‘The North of Scotland and East Coast Area Amateur Accordion Festival’ – what a mouthful.
In striking contrast to today’s mammoth undertaking, the 1950 Festival sported 5 solo classical classes during the day, all in the Lesser Hall and at the evening concert in the Large Hall, 1 solo classical and 5 group classical contests and wait for it – 1 ‘Solo Contest for Scottish Country Dance Music only (No age limit, Continental, Chromatic or Piano Accordions). Competitors to play a March, Strathspey and Reel of their own choice”. Entry Fee 7/6.
This solitary Scottish class had been suggested by Jimmy Shand senior, who provided the much-coveted shield which bears his name.
The first winner of this trophy was 3 row player, Jimmy Blue, who made it a double a couple of years later. Many other illustrious names appear on the wee shield plates and these are listed at the end of this spiel. The entire Festival was covered by two adjudicators.
Coming up to date, in addition to the Lesser and Large City Halls, the event occupies 6 additional venues. There are of the order of 15 classical sections, 12 (i.e. including 1 N.A.O.) for Scottish traditional accordion and 3 for solo traditional fiddle with a squad or around 8 adjudicators.
Ironically, that lonely Scottish solo accordion class in the 1950 Festival has blossomed into the ultimate goal for traditional players. The ‘Perth Senior Scottish’ is to our music what the St. Andrew’s Open is to golf. No need to dwell on today’s Festivals, hear and see for yourself.
Back to our main theme, the ‘Bill Wilkie Dance Band’, as it is known, is still going strong, although there have, of course, been a number of changes along the way. The current basic group comprises, on tenor sax Phil Forsyth, on piano and accordion, Willie Gordon, one of Bill’s ex pupils (the Pitlochry metronome), on drums Stan MacDonald or Bill’s son-in-law Billy Colburn, and of course the man himself on accordion.
The band, augmented when necessary, has an enviable reputation and plays at all the Rotary Balls, Civic Receptions and Party Conferences, having played for Harold Wilson, Ted Heath, Sir Alex Douglas Home and’ of course, Margaret Thatcher.
I felt a kind of slight chill come over our cosy wee chat when that last name came up, but it passed. Maggie has personally complimented Bill on his choice tunes and stated that one of her favourites is ‘Who’s Taking You Home Tonight’. The answer was on the tip of B.W.’s tongue , but to avoid being whisked into ‘the Tower’ he tactfully refrained.
On an earlier occasion, the assembled company were giving clarinettist, Chick Duncan, a standing ovation after a solo performance, when he suddenly noticed all their backs were to him. They were applauding the dramatic entry of Douglas Home.
THE MUSIC BUSINESS
Now, what about the Wilkie business. Briefly, accordions and associated equipment were sold from home or van until difficulty of supply cropped up. Sale from a catalogue didn’t intrigue Bill at all, so in 1959 he opened a small shop on the corner of Canal Crescent.
When the electronic organ boom came along, a new centre for these instruments was opened in James Street, Perth, in 1971. Three and a half years later, a Dundee branch selling organs, accordions, guitars, drums and amplification was set up under the management of Mr Jim Martin, who had been director of the Caledonian Hotel Orchestra in Inverness.
A further major development took place in 1984, all branches came under the one roof on a large complex occupying almost the full length of Charterhouse Lane and Canal Crescent. Known as ‘Wilkie’s New Music House’, these large premises, in addition to a large retail area, encompass 8 teaching studios, 4 workshops, stores and office space. And of course, the business is backed up by a very efficient delivery and collection service in addition to the ‘B.W. special’, which goes something like this. Bill Wilkie turns up at a local friend’s doorstep, “Sorry I’m a wee bit late (3 hours!), but I’ve been delivering a piano”. “Big deal” thinks the friend “what kept him?” – “Where about Bill?”. “Inverness!!”. Enough said.
Mention of teaching studios brings to mind ‘Perth Accordion Academy’ which evolved from Bill’s own teaching practice.
In 1968 this establishment had seven teachers under the auspices of the man himself, and in the B.C.A. examinations of that year there were 11 passes, 26 with merit and no less than 22 with distinction. Bill has now let go the teaching side and although the instructors are now independent, they still use the facilities at Canal Crescent, three of the present incumbents being Ian Anderson, Willie Gordon and Peter Bruce.
The Wilkie emporium is an absolute ‘hive of activity’, but at the hub of it all is the anchor, the steadying influence, the ‘Jill of all trades’ as one paper so aptly put it – Bill’s wife, Ena. Even to the casual observer a lot of the control and the communication comes from this quarter. How that outer façade of comparative calm is maintained I don’t know, but she makes a lie of the saying ‘No-one is indispensable’. Ena must surely be the exception and Bill would be the first to agree.
She runs all the competitive side of the Festival and organises the timetable and playing schedule, a mammoth task. Yes, the perfect team, in fact, the perfect family business, daughter Diana being responsible for the bookwork and as already mentioned, husband Billy is manager.
CONCLUSION
Of necessity, I have had to omit many interesting facets of Bill’s career to date. He moves so fast and packs so much into a short space of time, that one would require several volumes to cover it. However a few brief observations :-
On teaching – “I taught them like you would teach English, so that they could express themselves, depending on their natures, what they wanted to express. For instance, if they were jazz orientated I directed them to Benny Goodman’s improvisations and taught them harmony first”.
On playing for dancing – “You have to read the floor and know what they want….and showmanship is required. I don’t run a dance like a dance, more a show, I work at it and worry to get it right”.
Bill does this with all his productions. They may appear to be ‘off the cuff’ but they are planned in advance to the last detail, even to the cast taking the final bow.
On Committees – “Arghh!”
General – Bill saw red when one gentleman loftily announced that the accordion was a good ‘folksy’ instrument. Made his work all the harder to disprove this. The reputation of the ‘box’ was completely vindicated when two of his pupils won the top award at the Perth Music Festival, the Rose Bowl. This is the highest mark given in the instrumental sections and normally the piano would have expected to take the honours.
‘Wilkie’s New Music House’ really is a ‘hive of activity’ in the fullest sense of the words. During our ‘interview’, which took place in the therapeutic surroundings of the piano, organ and accordion showroom, Bill was summoned by Ena at regular intervals to take calls from Dundee, Kirkwall, Greenock and all places north, south, east and west. While he was out, I gazed on rows of Yamaha, Broadwood, Bentley and Offenbach acoustic pianos, and what a picture.
When I called in a couple of days later I heard a nifty rendering of ‘Kelvingrove’ followed immediately by ‘La Paloma’ with the contrasting idioms spot on. And there was Bill with a 48 bass instrument just resting on its base, demonstrating to an interested party. Made it sound like an up market model – a professional with a capital ‘P’.
In conclusion the U.K. accordion scene in general and the Scottish scene in particular, owe a great debt to this man. His Festivals have provided the inspiration and stimulus for many more, not least the N.A.A.F.C. Musselburgh event. I personally feel his contributions and ability have not been as widely recognised as maybe they should have been, but then that is just the way he would want it.
So, Bill Wilkie, alias ‘Tottie Wee’, I’m sure all Scottish music and accordion enthusiasts will join me in saying ‘Here’s to the next 40’.
Box and Fiddle
October 1989
One ten year old cub returning with milk from a nearby farm is passing the bothy and is drawn like a magnet by the lilting music emanating from this ‘howf’. It is irresistible, and in he goes to find one of the traditional – if you’ll pardon the expression – combinations of those times, a farm servant and a melodeon.
Up to this point he had been more acquainted with the sound of the fiddle and the mouth organ, being no mean performer himself on the latter. This is his first real live encounter with a member of the accordion family, and he is completely hooked by the clear tone of the instrument and the lift in the music.
Such is his enthusiasm that he joins the player in a box / ‘moothie’ duet and even manages to borrow the instrument in his tent. He takes to it like a ‘duck to water’, the accordion bug has got him, never to let go.
Twelve years later and in start contrast to that chance encounter in the fine Perthshire countryside, we find our ‘scout’ now in the R.A.F. and a talented piano accordion player to boot, entertaining the troops in Northern India, on the borders of Kashmir and what is now Pakistan, at an altitude of at least ten times that of the aforementioned 945ft Pole Hill.
At this height the rarefied atmosphere is causing respiratory problems for all but the accordion, the stage hands with the Concert Party are “peching like steam engines” and the singer cannot get his vocal chords to “fire” properly, if at all.
Now coming right up to date, in fact, slightly ahead, to the evening of Saturday 28th October, 1989. Perth City Hall is packed to capacity and our mouthorgan playing cub, now resplendent in silver dinner jacket, breezes onto centre stage at a pace that would make a Light Infantry march look like a ‘geriatrics’ outing – raises a baton, the thirty piece orchestra launches into its signature tune ‘El Relicario’ and the annual Perth Accordion and Fiddle Festival Concert is under way.
But this year’s event has a special significance – yes, the one and only Bill Wilkie has made it ’40 not out’. A tremendous achievement by any standards. Come to think of it, he should have been wearing a red jacket (ruby).
Bill is living proof of the expression ‘human dynamo’. What makes him tick or rather whirr, - to find out I went along to his business premises in Perth’s Charterhouse Lane / Canal Crescent.
I had seen Bill in action many times at concerts and had been impressed by his youthful appearance, his apparently boundless energy and enthusiasm, his unassuming manner coupled with a slightly ‘harum-scarum’ approach – likely to meet himself coming back – and a great sense of humour, Scotland’s Joe Loss.
But was all this a stage front, an act, - no way. Having spent 3 or 4 hours with him, my lasting impression will be of an effervescent, very genuine, likeable and caring person, with the above mentioned attributes always to the fore and in generous measure out of all proportion to his relatively small stature. Take energy and enthusiasm for example, the average human being would normally ‘baulk’ at the prospect of moving a piano around, but not Bill. When I met him he had been indulging in this ploy to speed up the rehabilitation process after a hernia operation! The mind boggles, but that is his style.
However to go back to the beginning. Bill, the youngest of four (2 sisters and a brother) was born at 21 King Street in Perth in 1922. His father, a self-employed tailor played traditional fiddle and while working in Aberdeen for a time, got to know Scott Skinner, attending several of his concerts. He would recall seeing the great man on occasion, wrapping his pianist over the finders with the bow.
MOUTH ORGAN
Bill’s mother did not play an instrument, but when times got hard in the mid-twenties she took a job as caretaker in Paterson’s Music Shop in Methven Street, and this is where it all started for our maestro.
When he was about 4 or 5 years old, mum brought home his first mouth organ and the musical urge and talent showed even at that tender age. It wasn’t long before he had mastered most of his father’s repertoire.
Now, Paterson’s also had practice studios above the shop and Bill would often accompany his mother and sit on the stairs listening to the big bands rehearsing. About this time, while still a wee lad, he came off his bike and had to lie on his back with an injured foot for the whole of the school summer holiday.
This would have been a disaster for most children, but not for Bill, he listened to the wireless and learned all the big band ballroom tunes on the mouth organ.
THE BRIDGEND MELODY BOYS
By the age of 9 or 10, the talent was obvious for all to see and Willie Scrimgeour, a cousin of Mr Wilkie senior, took Bill to Bridgend Scout Hall where a group called ‘The Bridgend Melody boys’ practiced and gave regular concerts.
Although this was an adult ensemble comprising mandolins and mouth organs, they were so impressed with the young lad’s performance that he was invited to join them. No second bidding was required, Bill thought their sound was the ‘cat’s whiskers’, and before long he had graduated to concert appearances with the group, receiving the princely sum – for those days – of five shillings.
Then came the Pole Hill melodeon episode which awakened the unflagging enthusiasm for the accordion. However, as this was the time of the ‘Great Depression’, money was scarce, and it was two or three years before an accordion materialised. The first instrument, a second hand 48 bass Hohner Verdi I with metal grille and green scroll on the front, was bought from Paterson’s by mother.
Needless to say, Bill got stuck in with boundless enthusiasm, playing mainly by ear at this stage, but attending intermittent music lessons with a teacher from Dundee, a Mr Moonie.
‘Intermittent’ because the instructor didn’t always manage through and sent on written work for practice. Also the classes were group sessions, mainly adults – not very satisfactory.
Bill, aged about 13 at this time and a self confessed showman and entertainer even in those days was forever organising concerts and such-like on the back green.
CAP TO BIG
On leaving school, his first job was with Alexander’s Bus Company as a message boy complete with three-wheel carrier bike and uniform peaked cap.
Bill has never been a giant, but in those days he was really quite small and when for instance he had to take a load of vehicle springs up Perth’s steep Margaret Street, he would carry the springs up one by one and then go back for the bike!
Also, his head was small, his cap was large – “come out below the bonnet till I see yer feet” kind of thing – wearing the cap was mandatory, navigation became a problem, so he left and took up a job as a message boy with Paterson’s.
There, he made the acquaintance of an excellent teacher, a Dr Sarafin, who gave him a first class classical training on the accordion – individual tuition, not group. Now playing a 120 bass Hohner Organola, he practiced like fury in Paterson’s over the weekend and in 1938 entered the first Festival in Dundee taking top place in his class.
This success spurred him to greater efforts and he competed on one or two further occasions at Stirling, Alloa etc., before the war intervened. In the Stirling event playing ‘Hungarian Rhapsody No 2’, he got 191 points out of a possible 200 being beaten into second place by a Charlie Duncan with 192.
It was reflecting on this competitive work in later years which brought home to Bill the usefulness of this type of Festival, which encourages players to strive for their own goals, thereby raising standards. To ‘jump the gun’ a bit, that is why he has always brought over the big International names of the accordion world like Angelo Cardinelli, Emile Decotty, Wolmer Beltrami, Willi Graff, Gervasio Marcosignori, and others as well as Pearl Fawcett and Jack Emblow from nearer home, the idea being to demonstrate the full potential of the instrument.
COLLEGIANS DANCE BAND
But to go back to the mid ‘30’s – during his visits to the Wilkie household ‘shilling a week man’, Jack MacDonald, would sit on the end of the settee listening to Bill play all the popular tunes of the day, ‘The Isle of Capri’ and such like.
Now Jack was drummer with the Perth (New Palais) based ‘Collegians’ Dance Band, he recognised the lads’ potential and it wasn’t long before he had him featured as ‘The band’s latest discovery, - Willie Wilkie, 15 year old piano accordionist playing old-tyme melodies’. The poster advertising on such dance function to be held at the Bridge of Earn Institute on 4th June, 1937, gives 9 p.m. till 2 a.m. ; admission 2/- ; admission plus bus return fare from Perth 2/6!
The ‘Collegians’ line up included saxophones with Angus Glass, the leader on alto and clarinet, Johnny Watts, trumpet, and Allan Gorrie on piano and Jack on drums. It is interesting to note that the pianist in today’s ‘Average White Band’, which incidentally is taking to the road again, is Allan Gorrie junior.
This band i.e. ‘The Collegians’ was somewhat ahead of its time using all American modern arrangements and Bill learned a lot during his time with them, by reading the ‘piano conductor’ copies – i.e. rhythm with melody cued along the top.
He also got a good grounding in correct ballroom dance tempo which has stood him in good stead. The only problem was trying to get up for kirk on a Sunday after a late Saturday night band session.
THE WAR AND ‘THE RAPCATS’
When the war broke out in 1939, the music trade went into decline because the bulk of instruments were imported. Music shops cut down on staff and with the exception of managers, employed women only. Bill was therefore paid off from Paterson’s, did a stint as projectionist in the King’s Cinema, but hated it because he couldn’t get out to play in the evenings.
Fortuitously he met up with an elderly chap, John Lindsay, who was a civilian in the Royal Army Pay Corps, and also played piano. He formed a show called the ‘Rapcats’ (from the initials of the Pay Corps and the Auxiliary Territorial Service), needed an accordionist so got Bill a civvy job in the Pay Corps. The ‘Rapcats’ performed mainly in the Playhouse Cinema. Another accordionist, Lance Corporal D. Pooke of the Black Watch had already been enlisted in the concert party and he and B.W. were teamed up a duettists, also appearing in ‘Garrison Theatre’ productions, raising funds for such causes as the ‘City of Perth Spitfire Fund’.
Also by this time, just after the outbreak of war, Dr Sarafin retired and Bill took over his accordion teaching practice in Perth – a busy man indeed, so what’s new. He had passed all his grade exams but because of wartime restrictions had been unable to take any teaching qualifications, but being sympathetic and sensitive to other people’s natures and feelings, he was a born teacher, a natural. “There’s a lot of psychology in it, say the wrong thing and you’ve killed it. You’re learning all the time – I’m learning yet”.
A few years earlier, about 1935, another chance meeting which was to have a major impact of Bill’s life was with a bus driving (Alexanders’) fiddle player. Monty (Moncrieff) Groundwater. A son of the Congregational Church in Couper Angus, Monty had seen B.W. playing with ‘The Bridgend Melody Boys’ liked his style, and some time later invited him along to the manse for a tune, where he met Monty’s two brothers, and more importantly, his sister Ena – now Mrs Bill Wilkie.
Ena, as well as being organist in her father’s church, and a local dance band pianist, also worked in Watson’s China Hall in Perth. If ever the expression ‘she is his right arm’ applied, it would be so in Ena’s case, but more about that later.
CALL UP
Back to 1940 and Bill was raring to get into the forces and “get at ‘em”, but he was the last of his group to go. Courting strong by this time, he was called up into the R.A.F. , doing his initial training at Redcar in Yorkshire.
In retrospect and wishing he had done so earlier, Bill in fact did not disclose his accordion playing abilities until the passing out festivities when he teamed up with the elderly, moustached, Warrant Officer who, although a lousy player, quite fancied himself as a pianist. As later events were to show our man’s ‘box’ certainly proved to be a useful lever and passport.
Posted to Kinnell, near Friockheim, in Angus, he enquired about the possibility of becoming a musician in the R.A.F., only to be told there were no vacancies and in any case, musicians were classed as Group 5, the lowest of the low (latrine emptying etc).
By contrast Bill’s brother, Joe, a great wireless enthusiast was in Group 1, Radar. At Kinnell, Bill went in as a works hand – this included chippies, brickies, Irish navvies, the lot. On his first day, a big sergeant took him to a circle of big stones and ordered him to paint them white, “No way”, said our hero. When the sergeant returned at dinner-time Bill hadn’t even opened the tin, so he was marched in front of the W.O., an old flying corps man who resembled and undertaker, complete with pipe and mustache. This hapless soul had to listen patiently while Bill laid off, “I could set up a concert party, run your dance band, and what do you do, give me some stones to paint! A waste of manpower”. The cheek of it, but another facet of the B.W. style, and it paid off.
Next day, he started as the W.O.’s clerk. He duly formed a concert party and dance band, and after a brief posting to Aberdeen, returned to Kinnell, whence he went on loan to Tealing, where he joined that station’s entertainment section as a solo accordionist doing garrison theatre shows in such venues as the Kings in Dundee and Perth’s Alhambra.
RALPH READER GANG SHOW
Then his flight was posted to Romney Marshes, in Kent, where they liased with the Irish navvies who were laying the Somerville tracking to permit the landing of disabled aircraft. This duty involved walking miles across the bleak wastes, Bill got fed up, went to the base at Hawkinge and asked for a change.
For the average serviceman, this would have meant the ‘firing squad’, or detention at the very least, but not for B.W. As luck would have it service entertainers were needed, Ralph Reader (Squadron Leader in charge of official R.A.F. entertainment) was notified, and Bill was summoned back off leave to an audition in a London theatre. He had to perform in front of the Squadron Leader himself and his ‘hencemen’. And the verdict from Ralph Reader – “Right, young Bill, you’re in, come and meet the rest of the gang”. And some gang, - two of the members were none other than Norrie Paramor of dance orchestra fame, and the late Peter Sellers. Illustrious company, right enough, speaks volumes for Bill’s standard, - he had a good technique and was really ahead of his time. He also developed an ambition to arrange for big dance bands. This was inspired by his association with Norrie Paramor, who could write out complicated arrangements and hold a conversation at the same time.
Gang Show No. 10 (there were to be 12 in all) now being complete, they were kitted out by stage furnishing suppliers in London, and launched into a three week rehearsal period before going on tour.
The shows were full blown productions and included such items as scenes from Dickens’ novels with Bill taking the part of Fagan, complete with busy black beard.
Before going abroad, the gang ‘cut their teeth’ in London, - Air Marshall Tedder was at the opening night – in Gloucester, and at all the large R.A.F. stations.
The running-in period over, it was time for the real ‘nitty-gritty’ overseas, in the form of a year’s tour in India, where the morale of our troops was rock bottom – they felt forgotten because of all the focus on the pending Normandy invasion.
Before embarking on the tour, Bill had a spot of leave and got married in June, 1944, his best man being George Taylor of Edinburgh, the comedian with the show, Bill’s brother, Joe (radar), couldn’t get leave at the time to perform the duty.
INDIA
During the 5 week journey to India on a ship called the ‘Mooltan’, the company did two performances nightly in the Officers Mess, and such was the heat, that a whole team of helpers were required to dry shirts etc.
The musical group in the show was the ‘Just Five’ comprising Harry Kane (violin), Bill (accordion), Les Osborne (sax and clarinet), Norrie Paramor, later replaced by Maurice Arnold (piano) and Peter Sellers (drums).
Throughout the voyage, Bill also played for the church services. The experiences during the year’s tour in India would literally fill a book. Space precludes other than the briefest reference in passing. Distances were vast, transport being by every means known to man, much of it primitive in the extreme, e.g. the toilet facilities in a certain grade of railway coach were just holes in the floor. Many of the ancient Dakotas in which the Gang flew had no fuselage doors and one would be sitting on a prop basket looking into space as the aircraft hedge-hopped over the jungle.
A wink of sleep was grabbed as and when possible, bunking down, - usually on stretchers – anywhere, in railway stations, wagons, trains you name it. A typical journey was that from Calcutta in West Bengal to Agra, south of Delhi (home of the Taj Mahal), it took 3 days, arriving at the destination in the afternoon with a show to go on in the evening. The itinerary covered virtually the length and breadth of the Indian sub-Continent, from Karachi in what is now West Pakistan to Calcutta in East Pakistan, Akyab in Burma, down to Kaggala on the southern tip of Ceylon. The last mentioned was…”like a south sea island with lagoons and palms, and beautiful beaches, the nicest place I have ever been to….”.
And there were also vast differences in climate from one region to another, from the delightful temperate conditions in Ceylon to the intense heat and dust of India, to the extreme cold of Upper Topa, in the Muree Hills (where the singer had the previously mentioned vocal chord problem).
At the latter base the coconut oil which was used as hair dressing, froze, cracking the container. This was okay until the descent to a lower altitude and the thaw. Bill’s kit bag was like a lorry sump!
Also at Upper Topa, the Gang met in with a Perth lad, Stanley MacDonald – now a registrar back in the ‘Fair City’ – doing officer training.
The stories Bill has about this tour are legion. To quote just one, Peter Sellers and B.W. who were great buddies had missed the last transport back to base after a night on the town in Karachi and were walking back in the dark with Peter recounting various spooky stories, when they were suddenly confronted with a mob of the natives wailing and brandishing lighted torches. Our bold boys’ hair stood on end, and even more so when they saw a corpse with it’s head fully exposed. This was too much, the pair took to their heels, not stopping until the safety of the camp. How were they to recognise a funeral procession!
The tour, a very arduous one at times, even included a performance for the Maharajah in Chitta Palace. Fever and dysentery also took their toll and at one stage the party were 50% down with the able-bodied deputising.
EUROPE
With the European war now over, it was back home from this marathon, and after a spot of leave, the company did a fortnight on the Isle of Wight, prior to joining up with Gang No. 6 to do a tour of France travelling in a fleet of bid ‘artics’, and playing at some pretty swish spots in Paris, Cannes and elsewhere. Bill, known as ‘Tottie Wee’ – “I’ll just have a wee tottie” – in the Gang Show, often stayed with Peter Sellers and his mother when in London, and they even organised a small flat for him just below them.
When they were leaving for France, Bill slept in, to be wakened by Peter, then off in a terrific aplatter to catch the troop train to Paris, but had to backtrack at one stage to get an accordion which he had left by accident at the Air Ministry, during which excursion, Peter and Bill got separated. To cut a long story short, Bill now accompanied by the Show’s comedian, Cyril, got to the Paris hotel in the middle of the night, feeling jaded and none too well. He undressed and flopped thankfully into bed, and Cyril was standing there “long Johns and nae teeth”, when in breezed three vivacious ‘birds’. “I sleep here”, said one, and “I sleep here”, said another. Our two were aghast, they had been misdirected to a different type of ‘hotel’, and were occupying the work spaces!
The French sojourn was followed by tours of the Rhur Valley, Belgium and Holland. Bill has lasting memories of the horrific devastation in the Rhur, not a building standing in some areas.
During this European circuit there were several happy change meetings with brother, Joe. By this time Bill was in charge of his own Gang Show.
DEMOB AND SOUTHERN DANCE ORCHESTRA
Demob came at the end of 1946and Bill teamed up for a double act with Les Johnson, and English piano and vibes player, doing harmony songs and showpieces from the Gang Shows, such as ‘In the Mood’, ‘Tico Tico’ a wee bit of classical and Scottish, a good mixture for all tastes. Les and Bill were full-time professional in this role for a time, but when an addition to the Wilkie household became imminent, Bill gave this up and went back to Patersons on ‘instrument’ sales. The inverted commas are because instrument in this case mainly covered radios, electric irons etc. This was of no interest to our man and the wages were very poor, but once again good fortune came along in the person of Eddie Connor, who ran the ‘Southern Dance Orchestra’ at the Salutation Hotel.
Eddie was a big name in the local band scene and offered Bill a job as accordionist with the band. At the same time the accordion teaching started up again expanding very rapidly to the point where it was becoming very difficult to fit everything in, so Bill decided to leave Patersons, but the shop was reluctant to let him go, so a compromise was agreed which suited both sides admirably, a three day week, this gradually being phased out over a period.
ADVENTURE AND MISADVENTURE
No-one should be a bit surprised to learn that B.W. loves adventure, as he says “my whole life is just one big adventure, with a fair bit of misadventure thrown in”. For example, when his reaching was at maximum capacity he finished classes at 11 p.m. one November night, had a cup of coffee, put on a heavy camel coat, jumped into his 1934 Morris 10 and drove two of his pupils, Mickie Ainsworth and Ally Watters down to London to compete in the duet class at an Accordion Day Festival in the capital.
On another occasion, in mid-winter a client in Inverness required an amplifier. The weather up the A9 was atrocious, with complete snow blockage at Drumochter but nothing daunted, Bill set off determined to deliver the equipment. At Pitlochry he called in to deliver a metronome to a music pupil. On hearing that he was continuing north, the pupil’s father, a snow plough driver, said he was mad. However, it was a case of ‘they’re all out of step except our Jock’, B.W.’s spirit of adventure took over and he pressed on. When he did arrive on the doorstep in Inverness, complete with gear, the customer looked at him in disbelief, thought he was seeing things, because at that very moment the telly was showing the wall of snow at Drumochter, “How on earth did you make it” – “Just tucked in on the back bumper of the snow plough”. “Surprising it wasn’t the front!”
Wearing his misadventure hat, Bill has had his moments. To quote Jimmy Blue – “There’s no’ enough hedges in Perthshire for you to go through”. In the course of his business and band work, B.W> knocks up huge mileages on the road, a lot of it at night, and in every weather, so by the law of averages there are likely to be the odd hiccups.
As a teacher he is au fait with chord and interval inversions but in August 1959, he tried a variation on the theme with his V.W. van by taking it through the parapet of the Northwater Bridge, near Montrose, and landing it neatly on its roof in a field 40 feet below. He was shaken but unhurt and managed to avoid the hail of heavy wooden stands in metal edged boxes which shot forward.
Mercifully, two other unscheduled excursions had reasonably happy endings, albeit one in Dundee in very poor visibility put Bill out of action for 6 months, when his 2.4 Jaguar intercepted a brewery lorry. The other was black ice in Glenfarg, when an ice hockey team lifted the car bodily out of a hedge – nothing else but these stalwarts could have got sufficient grip.
SENSE OF HUMOUR
Bill’s sense of humour was briefly mentioned in passing – it is highly developed and surfaces all the time, many of the jokes being against himself. He could also see the funny side of his misadventures. A few examples :-
Bill is on the phone speaking live to Robbie Shepherd on ‘Shepherd’s Fancy’ and the fire alarm goes off - he shouts to dial in ‘blah, blah, blah’ into the box but he has mistaken the warning, it was not the fire signal, so the burglar alarm and others start up, - one can only guess at the chaos which ensued.
One very cold day he is driving by the Mound neat Dornoch, when a stone shatters the windscreen, the glass is cleared out and with his eyed watering he heads for Tain to get a replacement when he meets an A.A. Patrolman on his motor cycle combination. In response to the badge on the bumper, the rider gives a snappy salute and then nearly jumps into his sidecar when Bill acknowledges with an equally snappy ‘Heil Hitler’ Nazi gesture through the vacant windscreen!
Jumping ahead a bit to when Bill had his first accordion shop. There is a circus on the small Inch and its organ packs in, so the proprietor heads for Wilkie’s Music Shop for help. Meantime Bill, who to quote his own words “was liable to be brittle at times” is laying off at his wife Ena and her friend Peggy about the state of the shop and things not done. In breezes the Circus owner and quoth he “I’ve got a Circus”, a momentary pause and Bill swings round “You’ve got a Circus!” All present dissolve in mirth.
B.W. is a born impresario and has run concerts since his early teens and starting in the immediate post-war years, has packed the large City Hall and other venues ever since, with his variety shows, reviews and accordion concerts featuring some of the biggest names in show business.
In one of his variety shows there was an exciting dog handling act where a ‘baddie’ with leather arm protection was apprehended by an Alsatian, for molesting a woman. As tumultuous applause died away, there appeared the Wilkie household pet, a wee Cairn Terrier called ‘Mickie’, who was a bacon addict and would beg for hours for a morsel. Bill, armed with the necessary rashers said, “You ain’t seen nuthin’ yet” and proceeded to hold up the bait. But the doggie, more interested in the scent of the Alsatian, ignored him, sniffed his way to the edge of the stage and ‘sprayed’ the footlights. The audience went into hysterics to an accompaniment of hissing steam and popping bulbs.
In another concert, this time at the Festival, it is prize-giving time and Bill is handing over a trophy to a young Scout in uniform. The lad salutes and B.W. reaches out for a handshake, but quick as a flash changes to a salute, just as the Scout, equally quick on the draw stretches out his hand. Much to the delight of the audience the two engage in a windmill impersonation session until they get their act together.
One final example ; there was a certain accordion company executive who insisted on having a spot to address the audience at one of the big concerts despite the fact that time was short, so Bill said “Right, but you’ll have to introduce Jimmy Shand as you finish”. The man was completely overawed by the size of the audience and the footlights and fumbled his way through, only to forget the following artiste. Bill pushed the dithery back on to fulfil his duties and he blurted out “And now ladies and gentlemen, a big shand for Jimmy Hand”.
QUARTET AND ACCORDION ORCHESTRA
Getting back to the mid to late ‘40’s when the Eddie Connor Band wound up, Bill formed his own Quartet with Chick Duncan (clarinet and sax), the late Tommy Duncan (piano) and Davie McInroy (drums).
The group were very versatile but by popular demand played a lot of jazz – at this point in our chat, Bill broke into ‘Rampart Street Parade’, what a swing. In fact, at regular intervals during our session he would illustrate points with his own style of ‘cantarach’ – classical, modern and Scottish, we got a version of ‘Lord Lovat’s Lament’ that would have done credit to Bobby MacLeod.
When Tommy Duncan died, Blanche McInnes took over piano with the Quartet and also with the Bill Wilkie Accordion Orchestra, which was formed in the late ‘40’s. Tommy had also been on piano in the Orchestra, with Blanche accompanying the singers at that time. For quite some time prior to joining the Quartet, she and Bill, had performed as an accordion/piano duet. Sadly, Blanche died a year past December.
Incidentally, the above mentioned Chick Duncan now leads ‘The Golden Era Jazz Band’ , there female vocalist being none other than Diana Colburn, nee Wilkie, daughter of Ena and Bill. Diana’s husband, Billy, is Manager of ‘Wilkie’s New Music House’ of which more anon, and they have two of a family, daughter Sharon (20), a fully trained dancer who runs her own dance wear business and a son, Richard (19), an accomplished snooker player and enthusiast, who not surprisingly is working in a snooker hall. Imagine that, 19 and 20, it really is hard to believe that Bill is old enough to gave grandchildren of this age. One would put him nearer 50 than 67.
To harp back to Bill’s Accordion Orchestra, other pianists were Joan Blue – one of the earliest – and Pam Wilkie (nee Brough), husband Ally being on drums.
The Orchestra has always been recruited from Bill’s pupils and staff and is renowned for its versatility and standard. When working up to a show B.W. doesn’t take time to breathe, he works like fury with the adrenalin pumping and he wants, and gets, perfection. He quoted an instance for example in a final rehersal where he took the orchestra off stage in the middle of ‘Alexander’s Ragtime Band’ and I quote “It was murder polis, but they were playing it by night, I can tell you”.
FESTIVAL
About the time of the Orchestra’s formation, Bill was approached by the N.A.O. (National Accordion Organisation) to run a classical accordion festival for the East and North East of Scotland – not to be sponsored, but to be self financing.
Having already assessed the value of competitive events, Bill agreed, and on Saturday 30th of September, 1950, the first ‘Perth Festival’ or simply ‘Perth’ as it is now affectionately known, took place in the City Halls.
This first event was officially labelled ‘The North of Scotland and East Coast Area Amateur Accordion Festival’ – what a mouthful.
In striking contrast to today’s mammoth undertaking, the 1950 Festival sported 5 solo classical classes during the day, all in the Lesser Hall and at the evening concert in the Large Hall, 1 solo classical and 5 group classical contests and wait for it – 1 ‘Solo Contest for Scottish Country Dance Music only (No age limit, Continental, Chromatic or Piano Accordions). Competitors to play a March, Strathspey and Reel of their own choice”. Entry Fee 7/6.
This solitary Scottish class had been suggested by Jimmy Shand senior, who provided the much-coveted shield which bears his name.
The first winner of this trophy was 3 row player, Jimmy Blue, who made it a double a couple of years later. Many other illustrious names appear on the wee shield plates and these are listed at the end of this spiel. The entire Festival was covered by two adjudicators.
Coming up to date, in addition to the Lesser and Large City Halls, the event occupies 6 additional venues. There are of the order of 15 classical sections, 12 (i.e. including 1 N.A.O.) for Scottish traditional accordion and 3 for solo traditional fiddle with a squad or around 8 adjudicators.
Ironically, that lonely Scottish solo accordion class in the 1950 Festival has blossomed into the ultimate goal for traditional players. The ‘Perth Senior Scottish’ is to our music what the St. Andrew’s Open is to golf. No need to dwell on today’s Festivals, hear and see for yourself.
Back to our main theme, the ‘Bill Wilkie Dance Band’, as it is known, is still going strong, although there have, of course, been a number of changes along the way. The current basic group comprises, on tenor sax Phil Forsyth, on piano and accordion, Willie Gordon, one of Bill’s ex pupils (the Pitlochry metronome), on drums Stan MacDonald or Bill’s son-in-law Billy Colburn, and of course the man himself on accordion.
The band, augmented when necessary, has an enviable reputation and plays at all the Rotary Balls, Civic Receptions and Party Conferences, having played for Harold Wilson, Ted Heath, Sir Alex Douglas Home and’ of course, Margaret Thatcher.
I felt a kind of slight chill come over our cosy wee chat when that last name came up, but it passed. Maggie has personally complimented Bill on his choice tunes and stated that one of her favourites is ‘Who’s Taking You Home Tonight’. The answer was on the tip of B.W.’s tongue , but to avoid being whisked into ‘the Tower’ he tactfully refrained.
On an earlier occasion, the assembled company were giving clarinettist, Chick Duncan, a standing ovation after a solo performance, when he suddenly noticed all their backs were to him. They were applauding the dramatic entry of Douglas Home.
THE MUSIC BUSINESS
Now, what about the Wilkie business. Briefly, accordions and associated equipment were sold from home or van until difficulty of supply cropped up. Sale from a catalogue didn’t intrigue Bill at all, so in 1959 he opened a small shop on the corner of Canal Crescent.
When the electronic organ boom came along, a new centre for these instruments was opened in James Street, Perth, in 1971. Three and a half years later, a Dundee branch selling organs, accordions, guitars, drums and amplification was set up under the management of Mr Jim Martin, who had been director of the Caledonian Hotel Orchestra in Inverness.
A further major development took place in 1984, all branches came under the one roof on a large complex occupying almost the full length of Charterhouse Lane and Canal Crescent. Known as ‘Wilkie’s New Music House’, these large premises, in addition to a large retail area, encompass 8 teaching studios, 4 workshops, stores and office space. And of course, the business is backed up by a very efficient delivery and collection service in addition to the ‘B.W. special’, which goes something like this. Bill Wilkie turns up at a local friend’s doorstep, “Sorry I’m a wee bit late (3 hours!), but I’ve been delivering a piano”. “Big deal” thinks the friend “what kept him?” – “Where about Bill?”. “Inverness!!”. Enough said.
Mention of teaching studios brings to mind ‘Perth Accordion Academy’ which evolved from Bill’s own teaching practice.
In 1968 this establishment had seven teachers under the auspices of the man himself, and in the B.C.A. examinations of that year there were 11 passes, 26 with merit and no less than 22 with distinction. Bill has now let go the teaching side and although the instructors are now independent, they still use the facilities at Canal Crescent, three of the present incumbents being Ian Anderson, Willie Gordon and Peter Bruce.
The Wilkie emporium is an absolute ‘hive of activity’, but at the hub of it all is the anchor, the steadying influence, the ‘Jill of all trades’ as one paper so aptly put it – Bill’s wife, Ena. Even to the casual observer a lot of the control and the communication comes from this quarter. How that outer façade of comparative calm is maintained I don’t know, but she makes a lie of the saying ‘No-one is indispensable’. Ena must surely be the exception and Bill would be the first to agree.
She runs all the competitive side of the Festival and organises the timetable and playing schedule, a mammoth task. Yes, the perfect team, in fact, the perfect family business, daughter Diana being responsible for the bookwork and as already mentioned, husband Billy is manager.
CONCLUSION
Of necessity, I have had to omit many interesting facets of Bill’s career to date. He moves so fast and packs so much into a short space of time, that one would require several volumes to cover it. However a few brief observations :-
On teaching – “I taught them like you would teach English, so that they could express themselves, depending on their natures, what they wanted to express. For instance, if they were jazz orientated I directed them to Benny Goodman’s improvisations and taught them harmony first”.
On playing for dancing – “You have to read the floor and know what they want….and showmanship is required. I don’t run a dance like a dance, more a show, I work at it and worry to get it right”.
Bill does this with all his productions. They may appear to be ‘off the cuff’ but they are planned in advance to the last detail, even to the cast taking the final bow.
On Committees – “Arghh!”
General – Bill saw red when one gentleman loftily announced that the accordion was a good ‘folksy’ instrument. Made his work all the harder to disprove this. The reputation of the ‘box’ was completely vindicated when two of his pupils won the top award at the Perth Music Festival, the Rose Bowl. This is the highest mark given in the instrumental sections and normally the piano would have expected to take the honours.
‘Wilkie’s New Music House’ really is a ‘hive of activity’ in the fullest sense of the words. During our ‘interview’, which took place in the therapeutic surroundings of the piano, organ and accordion showroom, Bill was summoned by Ena at regular intervals to take calls from Dundee, Kirkwall, Greenock and all places north, south, east and west. While he was out, I gazed on rows of Yamaha, Broadwood, Bentley and Offenbach acoustic pianos, and what a picture.
When I called in a couple of days later I heard a nifty rendering of ‘Kelvingrove’ followed immediately by ‘La Paloma’ with the contrasting idioms spot on. And there was Bill with a 48 bass instrument just resting on its base, demonstrating to an interested party. Made it sound like an up market model – a professional with a capital ‘P’.
In conclusion the U.K. accordion scene in general and the Scottish scene in particular, owe a great debt to this man. His Festivals have provided the inspiration and stimulus for many more, not least the N.A.A.F.C. Musselburgh event. I personally feel his contributions and ability have not been as widely recognised as maybe they should have been, but then that is just the way he would want it.
So, Bill Wilkie, alias ‘Tottie Wee’, I’m sure all Scottish music and accordion enthusiasts will join me in saying ‘Here’s to the next 40’.
Box and Fiddle
October 1989