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)

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.

More of AJ's radio- and other anecdotes.