Narrator:

Stories, songs and tales from the past, the laughter, the tears, the pain, the joy, and there was the music which reflected the spirited soul of the times. The Merry Blackbirds was one of the most successful big bands of the '30s. Its founder, impresario Peter Rezant, recalls those early days.

Peter Rezant:

I started in ragtime as a youngster before I even went to college, and my mother thought, well, I would become [inaudible 00:01:34] which was the language for ragtime at the time. I thought about giving the band a name. We suggested all members think of names and they write them down, and at the next rehearsal, we will discuss, we'll choose a name, and we did.

We subsequently came to the name that I had chosen. I said The Merry Blackbirds. I said it would be nice not to use names of famous bands and things like that. We have our own name, and it seemed they agreed. They agreed that it was a good name, so The Merry Blackbirds were established.

Our mainstay financially were from white shows. I remember when the ice rink was opened in Wembley. We went to play there, and the management there was so impressed, and he wanted to give us a contract to play there, but the law, the police came and said, "This must be the last time they are playing here because this is a white place. If they want to play, they must go and play for their own people."

He says, "But can't I get a licence?"

He said, "No, there are no licences. Blacks are not allowed to play to whites, exclusive white places."

Dolly Rathebe came in just during those years in the late '40s into the '50s. And she did very well. She did well. Everybody liked her. We all liked her very much for her deep voice.

Narrator:

In 1952, Dolly Rathebe was the reigning queen of blues and a popular movie star. Photographer Jürgen Schadeberg was asked by Drum Magazine to make some glamorous cover pictures of Dolly against a beach setting. Since Johannesburg is far from the city, Jürgen decided to use a sandy mine dump for a beach effect. They suddenly found themselves surrounded by hordes of breathless and excited policemen, who somehow suspected them of contravening the Immorality Act. They were pushed around while the boys in blue searched for clues of what they termed "indecent behaviour". The baffled suspects were then hauled off to the police station, where it took a string of phone calls and hours of waiting before they were eventually released with a stern warning.

Stan Motjuwadi:

We also had a silly piece of legislation on our books. We call it the period of prohibition. We patronised [inaudible 00:05:15] and we were often arrested for drinking out of season. One amusing incident was in the [inaudible 00:05:19] town when we would send [inaudible 00:05:22] for a bottle of brandy [crosstalk 00:05:28]. After a couple of hours, a youngster came along. He says, "That guy I always see with you is lying in the corner of Victoria and Tucker Street." So we rushed out there. We found Doc sprawled. When we inquired, we realised that Doc had been arrested after buying the bottle of brandy. So what used to happen during those days, I guess you would be handcuffed together in twos, and then the liquor squad would march with you from [foreign language] and making further arrests and everybody who was arrested has to carry his own exhibit. If you are arrested with a [inaudible 00:06:05].

So what Doc did, he was at the end of a queue, as they were marching through the streets of [inaudible 00:06:10], he kept on taking a swig until the bottle was empty and he had passed out. So the cops had to untie him and kick him around because they had no exhibit to produce in court.

Roy Christie:

In those days, it was quite perilous just living your daily life, particularly if you were a journalist because your job took you into places where most of the orthodox people wouldn't ever go, and particularly if you were an arts journalist.

And I went to a performance of African Jazz and Variety produced by Alfred Herbert, and I became friendly with the black stars of that, including a wonderful singer by the name of Dorothy Masuka, and a black singer who could do a Louis Armstrong impression and was known universally as Satchmo. Satchmo and I became bosom buddies, and he always brought Dorothy along. She was a very pleasant and charming lady. We had this party in my flat, and everybody was dancing and Duke was playing the piano and singing and Dorothy sang a few times. During the course of the evening, I went and asked Dorothy if she would dance with me, which she did, and we had a very pleasant dance. I took her back and my Afrikaans girlfriend wouldn't speak to me for two days afterwards.

Dorothy Masuka:

So, Bloemfontein, there we come. We have an Indian in the cast. So Alfred thinks to himself, "Lord, they don't allow Indians." In the Orange Free State, what are we going to do with [Shanna 00:07:59]. So he decides he's going to call him Sonny Harrison. Sonny Harrison's hair was too straight for a coloured.

So we get off the train, this policeman is walking towards us because sees a bunch of crazy looking blacks. What's all of this business? But Sonny, Sonny, you could see his Indianism a mile away. So he comes, he says,[inaudible 00:08:47] doesn't even answer.

[crosstalk 00:08:51] walked towards these two. He says "You have a problem?" This man says "Yeah, what's this Indian, this [inaudible 00:09:00] doing amongst its people, he's getting off this train?" [crosstalk 00:09:05], you can see him here. He says "No no no, this guy is not Indian." "No, this guy is Indian, I don't care, you can ask anybody." After he says "To your eyes yes he looks Indian. I agree with you, his mother is Indian but he is not an Indian."

In the evening at the show Shanna was there belting it out because the guy used to sing. After the show some more policeman came up to him, to Alfred, and said "What about this Indian, this [scollyboy 00:09:52]." What scollyboy are you guys talking about? We had to avoid looking at him because we were all going to burst out laughing.

Joe Mogotsi:

Of course we had young ladies like Dorothy Masuka when she came from Rhodesia, in fact she started with the Manhattan Brothers.

Narrator:

One of the most talented close harmony singing groups which emerged in the 30s was the Manhattan Brothers. Joe Mogotsi on his first return trip to South Africa after 35 years of exile in London reminisces about his early musical memories when his father used to sing a traditional melody.

Joe Mogotsi:

(singing). We did a bit of [crosstalk 00:10:53] in this school and that is how we managed to decide which voice have to sing where and so forth. On holidays we used to go into Johanesburg itself and sing in the streets, [crosstalk 00:11:09] from heaven, because we were also exposed to some of the records from the state side and these songs we used to sing over holidays. Time and again the police used to come and arrest us and put us in jails for a couple of hours and at times we never used to even get our money that day, they confiscate the whole lot. The very first concert we had it was at the [inaudible 00:11:41], it was advertised by our friends, our teachers encouraged us and the place was packed. Those years I remember the entrance fee was about six pence or five pence, something like that.

When we went down to Lesotho we found what we were being deprived of, liquor-wise was being allowed to us for the first time without no problems at all. We bought some provision, we bought some liquor to take with us but when we went on to the border we were not allowed to take it in and so we were told you take the stuff if you wanted, you better take it in your stomachs. So we were given a place where we settled down in Lesotho and started drinking and drinking. All these litres of liquor, gin, brandy ... And in fact the whole thing got out of hand because the chaps were getting drunk and somebody said something and a fight started.

[inaudible 00:13:00] was there and she was crying out "My brothers, what are you doing now. We've been given this privilege, now we're misusing this." At the border we were given a policeman to monitor the whole operation and so we had a seven piece band which was led by [inaudible 00:13:21] and then later on we recruited [inaudible 00:13:25] into the group.

Mary Benson:

I think that must've been earlier in the 50s for the [Huddleston 00:13:34] got the trumpet for [inaudible 00:13:36], quite a famous story and then other African musicians wanted instruments and some money was sent from London. Anyway they then needed a place to rehearse. Ian [Burnheart 00:13:50] was one of the main people who organised the union of African artists and they met in the [Bantrymen 00:13:59] social centre down at the bottom [Elove 00:14:02] street and [Yan 00:14:04] has described how opposite the [Bantrymen 00:14:06] social centre was a building with chicken farm, battery farm. And they went to the owner who gave them permission to rehearse there and then one day the owner of this chicken farm came to Yan and said "It's hopeless, I just can't have your people here." And so Ian said "What do you mean?" He said "All my chickens are dying." Ian said "But why?" He said "Every time Hugh hits a high note, a chicken dies."

So they then found opposite the chicken farm, a building with a woman with a clothing factory and she was quite a [crosstalk 00:14:47] so she was only too delighted to rent it to them and that is what [crosstalk 00:14:52] became.

Showman Mokgosi:

In 1952 in [Sofia 00:14:59] town, we were driving back home late from a gig and none of us had night passes.

Speaker 10:

How was the night [crosstalk 00:15:27].

Speaker 11:

Let's go to the 39 steps.

Speaker 10:

Can't you go a little faster? I'm thirsty.

Speaker 12:

Me too man.

Speaker 13:

Me too man.

Speaker 11:

Me too.

Speaker 10:

Everybody's thirsty.

Showman Mokgosi:

All blokes had to carry night passes by law after 10 PM. Very strict you see.

Speaker 14:

What you boys up to? Where's your night pass?

Speaker 10:

We don't have night pass.

Speaker 14:

Get out of the car now. Get out.

Speaker 15:

What's this? Stolen goods? Come on, open up, show me. Come on. Just like I thought, stolen goods. Come on, arrest these thieves. Move it, move it.

Showman Mokgosi:

So we all came to Marshall Square. We were so tired and so frightened.

Speaker 15:

[crosstalk 00:16:38] Look at all the tuxedos. [crosstalk 00:16:37] if you don't shut up right now [crosstalk 00:16:41].

Speaker 12:

No boss, no boss.

Speaker 15:

[crosstalk 00:16:42]. No night passes, all these stolen goods.

Speaker 13:

These are our instruments, we're musicians.

Speaker 14:

Musicians?

Speaker 15:

You look like a bloody lot of thieves to me.

Speaker 14:

Can you play [inaudible 00:16:54]?

Speaker 13:

No problem, no problem. Come on guys. [crosstalk 00:17:03]. (singing).

Pearl Connor:

We knew a lot of American artists and jazz ones, jazz musicians and singers. The Ella Fitzgeralds and [Lena-Horns 00:19:33] and so on. Our whole criteria was American and suddenly this enormous fantastic set of people who landed up in London and they were Africans. Everybody called them Americans, they couldn't bear to think it was African, it was so good, you know. They'd always had that sort of attitude so it was good. We used to say about the Manhattan Brothers when they were launched that they were kings of harmony from South Africa and [inaudible 00:20:02] so they would know they were Africans. Places like the [Paladium 00:20:06] always starred black American artists so for the Manhattans to qualify to appear there or to be asked to appear there was already a victory. For me it was a [crosstalk 00:20:17] Africa.

I was always involved as I say with the third world. Africa was certainly, we called it a third world but it was like a fourth world, we never knew about South Africa. It was a hidden world out of which came all this.

Thoko Thomo:

(singing).

Speaker 18:

At one time [crosstalk 00:21:57] and I were having a drink. For once I was wearing a tie. This guy keeps on looking at me, we're having a drink, all of a sudden he says "Look, you've got a tie on, you know with a tie on you're a tycoon and without a tie you're a coon."

Roy Christie:

And so in Durban one day I went along to interview the people from King of the Dark Chamber which was a huge Indian musical from Bombay which was touring there at the invitation of the Indian community which was very big and the person I met first of all was a star, a really beautiful Indian girl by the name of [Seria-Kumari 00:22:36] who was a film star in India. She and I hit it off immediately and we became very friendly and we became inseparable for her time in South Africa. One evening we were invited by Adam Leslie to come visit his new home which he just completed and he was launching with a very big party. Seria and I noticed that in the past 10 days or two weeks or so that wherever we went after the show to a little café or to a night club or wherever to have dinner, it would always be the same little guy hanging around, a chap with red hair.

He was very friendly but an inconsequential sort of person. He didn't intrude upon our awareness very much. At that night he was there at that party too and I remember saying he gets invited everywhere this guy, whoever he is. Anyway it was a cold winter's night and Adam had laid out all his wonderful food and lots of drinks next to his new swimming pool and we were sitting there having a chat and this little red-headed guy fell in the pool and we heard a loud scream and we got splashed by the waters quite close to us. We heard him say "I can't swim, I can't swim." So Seria elegant as anything in her beautiful sari went over and stretched out a delicate hand and pulled him in, at which point I grabbed him and got him out. He was frozen and Seria dashed to him, got a big towel. We took his shirt off and dried him and everything.

While he was sitting there and looking up at us, his face crumpled almost into awful remorse and he said "I have to tell you I'm a police informer." He says "I've been following you for three weeks, I report on everything the two of you do." I said "Isn't that fascinating" and I popped him back in the pool.

Narrator:

And life goes on. Reflections of the past which makes sense of the present and future. Stories which contribute to a greater human understanding of the ironies of life.

(singing)