MOVE IT ON THE BACKBEAT (Part One)
MOVE IT ON THE BACKBEAT!
JOSIE + THE PUSSY CATS IN LONDON
1956-57
PROLOGUE
You’re listening to “Easy Beat”, and I’m your host, Keith Fordyce. We at BBC Radio pride ourselves on presenting the very best of light musical entertainment, and haven’t we got a treat for you today: The final appearance of Pop sensations Josie + The Pussy Cats with their lead singer Greg James. They’re all with us live in Studio A to perform a medley of hits, and then Greg will preview his new solo single on Decca Records. Tender, melodic and beautiful, this is the sort of music that you long for. It's guaranteed to sweep you away from ghastly shock and horror! I daresay there’s been far too much of that lately in the news.
Indeed. It was the worst string of serial killings in Great Britain since Jack The Ripper! Six of London’s wealthiest citizens, all men, middle aged to elderly, were found butchered in their beds. Hatchets buried in their brains, blood and gore everywhere! Police could fathom no motive: Revenge was ruled out in every case, and no money or valuables were ever taken. It seemed to be no more than sheer, savage brutality! The common denominator was that some of the men were seen in the company of a beautiful woman just prior to their killings.
Twice, a woman was spotted leaving the scene shortly before the corpses were discovered. The public imagination latched onto a female fiend! She was likened to Lizzie Borden, the notorious nineteenth century axe-murderess. Some held that London Lizzie was a ravishing redhead; others, that she was a bewitching brunette. However, one of the witnesses swore that he’d seen a petite platinum blonde! Whatever the case, In the late 1950s and early ‘60s, Lizzie was the talk and terror of England; but against that gruesome backdrop, three beautiful guitarists - one blonde, one Black and one flame-haired - made a huge splash on the British music scene. Let me tell you all about them.
PART ONE:
WHO’S GOT THE ACTION?
The leader of this group was a most unlikely Pop star. Giuseppa De Carlo was American-born despite her Old World Italian name. New Orleans was where she inhaled her first breath. Zeppa’s birth year was 1930; her mother was Jewish and her father was an Italian Gypsy. They conceived her late in life; Zeppa's brother Gino was fifteen years her senior. The De Carlos were vaudevillians; Gino danced, Coco sang and Alfredo was a skilled Flamenco guitarist. It was a given that the family’s newest member would learn how how to play and sing, and she excelled at it. By the tender age of seven, little Zeppa was playing a miniature guitar onstage for delighted audiences; but at age thirteen, childhood ended most abruptly for the child prodigy!
She got involved with a young man. Collins Gregory was a handsome teenage juggler, born in England but raised in Egypt; he had emigrated from there. However, Collins was actually of Sudanese heritage and very dark-skinned. His interest in Giuseppa alarmed Coco De Carlo, and not just because he was so much older; her Mizrahi parents had deep olive complexions and had suffered discrimination because of it. Alfredo was also hostile to Collins and repeatedly warned him to stay away! Even so, the two grew closer and just before he left the show to return to his home country, they became secret lovers.
Speaking of the relationship in later years, Josie would never allow that she’d been in love. “I certainly don’t think Collins was,” she said, “but we were both filled with those strong yearnings that young people have. Too, I was intensely curious about, well, you know what!” Zeppa and Collins only slept together once, but as soon as Coco found out, she knew that her daughter would conceive. “A mother can sense these things,” she insisted, and she was right: Less than three months later, Giuseppa was visibly pregnant and could no longer appear on stage. Giving birth so soon after puberty was difficult; hours of painful labor nearly claimed the girl’s life!
The Grim Reaper did visit the De Carlo family, but as fate would have it, Giuseppa wasn’t destined to be his victim. Just two years after their grandchild was born, Coco and Alfredo were killed in an auto accident! They died instantly. Zeppa's brother Gino was driving the car; sadly, he succumbed to his injuries a few days later. Devotion to motherly duties saved her from sharing their tragic fate!
“Having a baby did save my life,” Josie believed. “Gregory was colicky, and that morning he wouldn’t stop crying. Papa had planned a family trip to the beach, but I decided to stay home and look after him. Then after the accident, Greg’s needs kept me grounded and rational. Otherwise, I think the shock of it all might have driven me insane!”
There was simply no way she could continue to perform; as it happened, vaudeville was on its last legs anyway. By the end of the year, the show closed and the troupe would disband. Zeppa had a large extended family that supported her with food and funds, but not with a permanent place to stay. The girl was a pariah to them!
It was a different time period, when people held shameful attitudes about so-called miscegenation. “Vesava!” her young Gypsy cousins screamed. They called her “a Black man’s whore!” Older relatives were not as cruel, but with a baby so dark-skinned and kinky-haired, none were willing to take her in. She had to make it on her own! This was in 1945, right at the close of WWII. While America was celebrating, poor Giuseppa De Carlo watched her world fall apart!
She tried to find work as a musician, but both her gender and youth were barriers. “Being part of a family act had protected me from the biases I ran up against when I tried to perform solo,” she later explained. Responsibility for herself and her infant son was a burden nearly too hard to bear, but the brave young woman persevered; she survived on store clerk, farm labor and waitress jobs.
A decade later, an opportunity to play music with a band beckoned her; but it was a “Trad Jazz” band based in England. Josie packed up her little boy and moved to the British Isles in 1955. "Greg knew that his father was British-born, so he asked if Daddy would be there to meet us," she recalled. "I just told him, 'We'll see.'" Nothing could've been more unlikely; but as fate would have it, Josie and Collins did cross paths in London. Talking about it made her wistful: "It was so awkward! He'd gotten married and his wife was there with him. Thank God, Greg wasn't with me! How could I tell him that we had a son together right in front of her? We never met again, and he never did find out."
That uncomfortable encounter presaged more unpleasantness. Jazz Babies, the all-girl band she'd signed on with was a highly unstable unit; it disintegrated soon after she arrived on our shores. Even worse, the manager absconded with everyone’s pay! Mother and son found themselves stranded in a foreign country. "I might've asked Collins for help if I'd known where to find him," she sighed, "just on Greg's behalf! But I hadn't a clue. He said he was just visiting London for a short time." Giuseppa De Carlo ended up in Liverpool, working in a sleazy titty bar called the Fish ‘n’ Chips!
FISH 'N' CHIPS CLUB.
Earnings were meagre, the blokes were crude and rude, and there was so much cigarette smoke in the air she found it difficult to breathe. The only thing Giuseppa liked about being a stripper was her new stage name. “De Carlo? Sure, that’s sexy enough,” her new boss Clive "Fish" Peel declared, between puffs on a reeking cigar. “Reminds me of that American starlet, Yvonne De Carlo." His wife and business partner Holly "Chips" Peel found found her Christian name much too exotic and expressed her dislike for it in no uncertain terms: "Crikey! It sounds like somebody sneezed, doesn’t it? Can't put her on stage with a stinker like that, luv.”
Fifi? Trixie? Dixie? Babs? None of those names seemed to fit. When Mrs. Chips suggested "Coco", Giuseppa blanched visibly. Perform striptease under her mother's name? Unthinkable! She didn't want to use her childhood nickname Zeppa, either; her brother had given it to her and every time someone called her that, she started to cry.
Then the club's wardrobe mistress, a matronly woman named Myrna Munro whom Giuseppa grew close to, suggested Josephine. “Rather!” Mr. Fish declared. “We’ll call her Josie. A good bit o’ peroxide will do for the lass, too.” She could live with the nickname but not with looking like a Diana Dors clone. Thanks to Myrna’s intervention, she managed to wriggle out of the dye job! Even so, Miss Josie De Carlo became one of the main attractions at The Fish 'n Chips. She was known as the “big-titted bird who always likes to leave summat to the imagination.” But alas, not nearly enough.
Once again, Josie’s son would be her salvation. Twelve-year-old James Gregory De Carlo inherited the family’s proclivity for music skill. From drummers at the strip club, he learned to play percussion while still a tyke; the lad had a natural sense of rhythm that he honed with constant practice. Greg could also sing; much to Josie's delight, as a baby he would vocalize when she sang him lullabies. At this time, Lonnie Donegan was spearheading a Skiffle boom in the British Isles; Greg became a Donegan fan, gravitating toward Trad Jazz and rustic Folk sounds. Then, from records imported from the Caribbean he got a taste of Calpyso music and fell hard for it!
Soon, the lad was using every spare minute to sing and play Calypso songs. He dreamt of doing so on stage; however, Greg was quite the effeminate boy - schoolmates branded him “a flaming poofter” - so he couldn't find anybody willing to play music with him! He resolved to solicit help from anyone who had musical talent, including his mother. “I laughed him off,” she admitted. “Who could take that seriously? I thought he was far too young, and besides that, we weren’t West Indians. How would it look?” But musical talent wasn’t all that Josie passed down to him; the son was just as persistent as the mother was!
By early 1956, the lad had recruited two very talented teenage girls from the neighborhood: Trinidadian immigrant Valerie Santiago and blonde beat girl Melody Rutledge. As it happened, Melly was the niece of Josie’s friend Myrna, the wardrobe lady. Older than Greg by three years or so, she and Val loved Calypso just as much as he did. Valerie grew up with the music, and her singing lent the group an authentic sound. Melody could harmonize, and both of them knew how to get along on the guitar. Wanting to find his mother a better job - he knew how much she loathed working in the strip club - Greg kept after Josie to join their fledgling band. To her ears, they sounded like the amateurs that they were, but she also heard potential: “They were good! I couldn’t ignore the talent.”
She made time to coach Valerie and Melody on their guitar-playing; they were amazed at her dexterity, the result of Josie’s extensive Flamenco background. She was no slouch at playing Jazz, either. Later, she began to sing with them, and there was a striking vocal blend to their harmonies; her voice provided a missing element that made them sound absolutely grand! With her high soprano, Melly was “top”. Val, a throaty contralto, was “bottom”. Josie’s mezzo-soprano put her squarely in the middle. Occasionally, young Greg would join in with his boy tenor.
“At that time, Val was the strongest one vocally,” Josie recalled, “but given the right tune, each of us could deliver a decent lead.” She finally gave in to her son’s pleas and agreed to join the band - on condition that she be the band leader! It made sense: She was the senior member, and having appeared in vaudeville she knew a lot about the ins and outs of show business.
Taking a leap of faith, Josie gave notice to Mr. Fish and Mrs. Chips. "Think a lot of yourself, don't you, bitch?" snarled an outraged Holly Peel. "After we made a star out of ye? Well, you shan't come crawling back!" She performed her last striptease routine in late ‘56, resolving to take odd jobs and live on her savings until the band started making money. But even after Josie quit working at The Fish ‘n’ Chips, Myrna Munro stayed in the picture; she was 100% supportive of the band!
She was also indirectly responsible for the group’s name. Myrna was a foster mother to every stray cat in Liverpool, and she’d just adopted a grizzled old tom. “I called him ‘Pussy’ ‘cause I couldn’t think of anything else,” she shrugged, “but me flat mate didn’t like that, so I changed it to ‘Pussy Cat’. At least, that’s what I call him when she’s around!” One day, the four bandmates were taking tea in her kitchen and debating prospective names. Suddenly, that massive feline leapt off the top of a cupboard and landed, plop! Right in the centre of the breakfast table. The tea service went flying and everybody had the proper piss scared out them!
As they cleaned up the mess, Valerie joked that it might be a sign from on high: “Should we call ourselves The Pussy Cats, then?” Predictably, Myrna loved the idea; so did Melly but she suggested amending it to Josie + The Pussy Cats. Josie was flattered! Greg pitched a blue and purple fit! “What’ll they say about me, then,” he fumed, “playing in a band with a name like that?” Val shut him down straightaway: “It’s nothing that they don’t already say, is it? Besides, that’s a smashing name for a band with girls out front. Nobody’s looking at you, luv; you’re just a brat sitting in back of us with a drum set.” Greg fussed and cussed up a storm - "we'll be laughed out of Liverpool!" - but in the end he was outvoted.
People in the neighborhood did laugh at a group called Josie + The Pussy Cats - until they heard them perform. Then the chuckles gave way to applause. Most Calypso ensembles had a lilting, lightly swinging sound. The Pussy Cats held forth with a heavier beat, provided by Greg who bore down hard on his conga drums, and by the girls’ Flamenco-influenced guitar-playing. Their readings of Calypso songs had a very aggressive edge!
The Pussy Cats also looked smashing. No island rags for them, eh wot! Melody Rutledge was an aspiring fashion designer who loved animal prints. She, Val and Josie stopped traffic in tight black pants and turtlenecks worn with tiger-stripe fur boots! Young Gregory cut a rakish figure, sporting a black “stingy brim” hat with tiger-stripe headband. So imaginative was Melly, she could dream up stage costumes at a moment’s notice; and her Auntie Myrna, an excellent seamstress, was capable of stitching patterns overnight.
With eye-catching costumes, Josie’s great lead instrument, Valerie’s strong lead voice, Gregory’s solid beats and the novelty of three female guitarists, The Pussy Cats quickly became a band everybody wanted to see. Just a month after their début at an out-of-the-way coffee bar, they were getting cheeky write-ups like this:
DESIGNS BY MELODY RUTLEDGE.
THE MAD MOD
Soho Socrates here, matey! They sure don’t sound like they’d amount to much - three birds and a brat on a Calypso kick. Wouldn’t you be surprised, though? One blonde, one brunette and one black beauty, swingin’ the daylights out of your tropical island favorites. And yon tyke pounds a mean bongo drum! Let the ladies swoon at Belafonte, then - Liverpool’s Josie + The Pussy Cats give us blokes something nice to look at! But don’t worry about taking your lovey dove along, mate; if she digs dancing to jungle rhythm, the lass will be more than satisfied! Get yourself some of this Scouse Pussy down at the Faux Paws, North End of Soho.
END OF PART ONE!
