31. FOR NO MAN WILL EVER FORGET...

Being a 60's offshore anorak, like so many others, it was with dread that I followed the ominous countdown to August 14^th 1967 when the Marine Broadcasting Offences Act would take effect at midnight. Even before the ultimate day stations were closing down for all sorts of reasons. On July 23^rd came the end for Radio 227, one of the twin stations on the Laissez Faire. Next was fort based Radio 390. The “Woman's Magazine of the Air” ended its transmissions on July 28. On August 6^th it was Radio 355's turn, the second of the twin stations.

According to my diary in spite of a southerly wind there was nothing summery about August 14^th 1967. The temperature barely reached 14 degrees C. And all day the sun refused to put in an appearance. In fact it was very very cloudy, perfectly reflecting my somber mood. Like one waiting on death row I listened to Radio London, as the minutes ticked by in the life of the station. And then "their Final Hour" was upon us. At 16,00 hrs (3 pm in the UK) Paul Kaye's became the last voice to be heard on Big L. It had also been the first voice on the station.

After the close down, like so many thousands, I retuned to 259, to hear Caroline welcome the Radio London listeners. But then it was time for me to make tracks, as duty called. I had a Summer job to get to at the Games Arcade in Blankenberge.

Later that evening also Radio 270 and Tommy Shields' Radio Scotland closed down. In spite of interference from the electric games in the Arcade I did manage to hear Caroline turn into Radio Caroline International as the pioneer station defied the Marine Broadcasting Offences Act at midnight (1 in the morning my time). To this day hearing Johnnie Walker's “Man's Fight For Freedom” still makes my eyes go moist. (Lyrics)

29. A RADIO IN EACH EAR

Musicwise 1967 stands out in my mind as the year the Beatles' iconic album “Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band” was released. There was a rush among the students at university, myself included, to get a tape copy of the album to coax us more or less gently through study time leading up to the exams... Luckily by that time I was the proud owner of a sturdy Grundig tape recorder.

During the Summer of 1967, -the so called Summer of 'Love'- when the US was rocked by race riots, also the end was in sight for most of the British offshore stations. I took a job to help pay for my studies, working for two months at the Sportland Lunapark on the seafront in Blankenberge. At the time many British holiday makers flocked to the popular Belgian seaside resort and were regulars at the games hall. Among them one of the sons of Spike Milligan. I also made the acquaintance of quite a few Southwalians like Nigel Jones from Barry Island and Michael Hibbs (photo) who lived at Treherbert in the Rhondda. For any Flemish readers of this blog I can further add that also the famous revue artist Charles Janssens (1906-1986) religiously played a few games at Sportland after finishing his performance at Blankenberge's well known Wit Paard.

At the games arcade I had opted for the late shift which meant I was working from 5 in the afternoon until about 3 at night. As a result I had most of the day to go to the beach and tune in to the 'pirates'. Cycling home at night I used to carry two small transistor radios in my pocket, listening to Caroline in one ear and to Big L in the other.

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28. THE WRITING IS ON THE WALL FOR THE PIRATES

Already in late 1966 the writing was on the wall for the radio stations off Britain's coast. The government of Harold Wilson, egged on by Post Master General Tony Ben, was determined to bring in legislation to make it illegal for British citizens or companies to supply the pirates, work for them or advertise on the stations.

On January 1^st 1967 there was a bit of good news for a change. As announced earlier by Caroline on New Year's Eve, Radio 390 returned to the airwaves. I remember, the next day, writing a letter to Prince Charles protesting against the British government's actions to sink the pirates.. “Why not”, I thought “the crown prince is a paid-up member of the Big L club and has a Radio London T-shirt...” After a few months I got a reply from the Home Office with the usual lies.

The imminent demise of the offshore stations was not the only problem at the time. I also had to try and commit professor Hesman's German “Kulturgeschichte” to memory. I found that this was best done with the deep brown voice of Jim Reeves in the background. Luckily both Radio 390 and Radio 355 (former Britain Radio) now had a Jim Reeves Show on Sundays. The reason being that after a boardroom battle station manager Ted Allbeury left 390 and went on to run Radio 355, taking most of his middle-of-the-road programming ideas with him and some of the dj's. Theodore Edward le Bouthillier (Ted) Allbeury (1917-2005) had been a real-life spy during the Second World War, decades before he got involved with radio and then started writing best-selling novels.

Not only Britain Radio had changed name... As it proved unsuccessful Swinging Radio England went Dutch and turned into easy going Radio Dolfijn and still later into Radio 227. It was hard to keep up with the changes. Later more upset as one by one the fort based stations fell by the wayside and my exams doomed...

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25. THE FUNERAL OF FRANKY THE FLY ON BIG L

In the day, apart from human visitors, the radioships were also a favourite but brief place to rest for migratory birds and sometimes for fogbound gulls. But hardly ever were flies seen on board, the distance to international waters simply being too great for insects to fly. At least the djs never ran the risk of painful mosquito bites.

Once however a fly did get on board the Galaxy, Radio London's vessel. It must have been hiding in the supplies which were delivered by the Trip Tender. The “distinguished visitor”, as Paul Kaye described the fly, quickly found its way to the messroom. Because it was the only fly on the ship it was soon treated as a pet by the djs and crew. They even gave it a name. They found that Franky the Fly had quite a good ring to it. A few days later however tragedy struck in the form of Chuck Blair's “negligent hand”.

Immediately the radioship was turned into a hive of activity; a funeral had to be organized. Proceedings were directed by news chief Paul Kaye (1934-1980). The ceremony held, including a “funeral fly-past” and some gun salutes, was broadcast live on the station during the Pete Drummond show at 2 pm on Friday June 2^nd 1967  In the address it transpired that Franky the Fly had been a lover of music “from the tips of his wings to the end of his... dying days”. The funeral service was a brilliant piece of radio theatre and you can enjoy it here: TheFuneral of Franky the Fly.

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