1979.

When Lynette and Robert arrived back from a very emotional tour of Britain and especially Birmingham, the place of his birth, Robert discovered that the smiling Irishman Mike had pinched his job at The Settlers. At the same time the Brewer’s Elbow decided to employ a somewhat androgynous cross-dresser for his Monday spot and Mirrors had closed down through lack of interest. The short reign of success had vanished like tissues in the wind.

Nonetheless Barry and Allan were still raring to go with It Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time. Within the space  of a week they managed to drag together a motley crew from The Brewers Elbow and other dens of iniquity, who should have known better. Barry and Robert worked three of four nights a week designing and building sets, writing scripts and rehearsing their cast. This time Lynette was Stage Manager.

The show was scheduled to be presented at the Dural Community Hall for two weeks at the beginning of December. It was disaster from the very start. The flyers Barry designed and had printed were left out in the rain and ruined. The sign Robert painted on a three by two metre sheet of fibrous cement was swept from it’s place between two trees opposite the hall, by a sudden storm and was smashed to pieces and scattered along New Line Road. The promise by the Fringe Theatre Group to tell all their members and friends about the show was quietly forgotten with the result that the hall was only half filled on the first night. On the second night a bunch of the Brewers boozing team rolled up with flagons of scrumpy and Doctor Jurd’s Jungle Juice and the final nights were literally washed out by continuing storms. One could say that It Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time, was not such a good Idea after all but a good time! 

 

1980.

Bobby Gripweed returned to The Brewers Elbow once they realised that Cross dressers should be confined to shop windows. By pure chance, (it later proved to be ‘not so pure’) a member, Tony Clear of The New Endeavour, a two hundred foot (approx ninety metre) wooden barquentine, peacefully rotting away in Darling Harbour.  He informed Bobby that a group of well meaning gentlemen with nothing better to do, had pooled their brass and literally dragged the old girl from the mud in Blackwattle Bay. Isn’t it unfair that we refer to ships, boats and other derelict vehicles in the feminine gender? B.Gripweed thought that someone should do something about it. (As long as it wasn’t B.Gripweed).

Tony, who he had met at the Brewers Elbow and was a drummer in the not such a good idea production, suggested that he, B.Gripweed should visit the New Endeavour which was berthed at wharf 73a Darling Harbour. ‘You can’t miss it’ he said ‘it’s parked directly opposite ‘The Gull’ an old minesweeper painted bright yellow.’

Bobby didn’t miss it but had some misgiving as to the strength of the wharf itself.  Covered  by rotting planks displaying gaping holes it looked and sounded as if it hadn’t recieved any attention since Arty Philip’s days. Nonetheless B.G took to it and although the pay wasn’t a king’s ransom it was the start of a new adventure and the opportunity to actually sail on a genuine square masted wooden ship.

In the meantime Bobby Gripweed continued singing in the pubs and wine bars, occasionally with Patricio or with Terry Driscoll and Allan Nowers under the name of Gripweed, Slackyard, Hogpen and the Idiot, (the Idiot never actually existed but it looked nice and mysterious on flyers and posters.) But Bobby wanted to make a recording. Allan, Dave and Barry were all for it and Mark Don, who provided the lighting for their Dural show also worked for the Wayside Chapel in their recording studios.

He advised B.G. that if he was prepared to do some work for The Life Centre they would be allowed to spend whatever time it took to make a ‘demo recording’. The work involved B.G. and Allan making a recording of a conversation between the owner of a cigarette manufacturing facility and his Sales Manager. B.G, due to his more fruity accent would be the owner and Allan would be the hotshot S. M. The idea was to make the pair of them to appear as evil drug dealing villains literally luring the kids along the path leading to ruin.

In between quick drags and the odd can of amber fluid it took them the best part of day to make this recording and with Mark as the engineer they came up something which pleased Ted Noffs immensely. (I should explain that the purpose of this exercise was to convince young people of the dangers of indulging in nicotine and alcohol, and along with an animated giraffe, made by Barry and Lynette’s mother Gwen, and slide shows, it was shown at schools and youth clubs.)

 

1981.

Unfortunately nothing much eventuated from that tape other than playing it at parties after adding a tumultuous applause track and pretending that it had been recorded live at The Stadium. At a gathering of friends and other would be musicians, Bobby met the very talented Aldo Bencic, a guitar teacher from Queensland who claimed to be a distant relative of Django Reinhardt and wanted to work on a truck collecting empty beer bottles. Aldo was most impressed by Bobby’s style and choice of songs and invited him to come over to his place in Thornleigh for a jam. There B.G. met Ray Barnard, (no relation to Terry), a tall Londoner with designer stubble, who not only played bass guitar but played it on a Rickenbaker bass guitar. They ran through Bobby’s repertoire that afternoon and when they had finished Aldo asked B.G to join them as a group.

After two more practices Aldo decided that they would need another musician, preferably a fiddle, mandolin or five stringed banjo player to give the group that extra zest he believed they required. It did not take B.G long to find this particular article. The first mate on the New Endeavour, one Bruce Gibson a tall rawboned man in his early forties who played his guitar, or (axe) as if he hated it,  knew a most competent fiddle player from Tempe who not only owned a fiddle and mandolin but played them, (separately, of course) and, it was strongly rumoured was keen to join a musical group bent on shattering the ears of the masses. Via the electronic telephone B.G. located this man who promised to join him at Aldo’s abode on the following Saturday.

The violinist’s name was also Bob Thompson (will no one rid me of these turbulent Bobs?) a red haired happy faced man with a slightly left of centre sense of humour. They all agreed that he was a very suitable boy and hoped that he would be happy to become part of them. After a few work-outs they decided they’d better have a name and, noticing a large tree growing behind Aldo’s flat, B.G. suggested Peppercorn, which was immediately accepted.

Aldo declared it ideal as they had plenty of pepper and more than their share of corn. They concocted a program which consisted of songs and instrumentals ranging from Australiana, Irish and English folk to raw Rock’n Roll using material previously recorded by Steel Eye Span, Long John Baldry, Mike McClelland with some more esoteric pieces introduced by Bob featuring his fiddle, Aldo’s slide guitar and Ray’s mandolin.

They secured gigs at The Brewers Elbow, on board The New Endeavour, Wozza’s Thornleigh Winebar and once in Woodley’s Boat yard whilst the New Endeavour was being careened. It appeared that everything was running along quite well for Peppercorn. The choice of music suited them and the combination seemed to work. Unfortunately that old monster ‘familiarity’ raised it’s sneaky head.

As with other groups, both B.G. and Bob the red headed fiddler, experienced this with Ray and Aldo. At first it was no more than a few niggling little disagreements, but soon the carbuncle of discontent, in the name of ‘familiarity’ presented another side of this slowing tarnishing brilliance and it came as little surprise when Aldo announced that he and Ray had decided to go it as a duo with a drum rhythm machine to fill in the tight spots. They wanted to become a jazz orientated group and frankly  Bob and B.G. were just not good enough.

 

 

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