Saturday, 19 July 2014


Sadly, one of the great western writers, J.T.Edson, passed away on the 17th July 2014.
No one who has read his books can forget the likes of Dusty Fog, Mark Counter and the Ysabel Kid - characters that were brought to life in strip form in the Lion comic of the sixties.
J.T. Edson paved the way for many other British western writers and will be missed.

Monday, 14 July 2014


Saturday morning pictures at the Odeon Cinema in North Finchley was packed out most times. A cartoon, a serial and a movie. More often than not there was a western as the main feature starring the likes of Hopalong Cassidy, Roy Rogers and Tex Ritter. For 6d (two and a half pence) that was real value for money.

The early fifties was quite an austere time work like food and clothes were still on ration. Days out were for the most part free. A whole day could be spent in Friary Park - but when an event like the Festival Of Britain in 1951 occurred it was a great day out. Likewise, Trooping The Colour and The Lord Mayor's Parade in London were all free days out just as were visits to the museums.

So, when mum took me out for a trip to Haringey (North London) I expected to be wandering around the shops. At seven years of age - even then it was boring. But the shops were not to be our destination - but the massive arena. This was a total new experience. The place was packed out with kids almost outnumbering adults and the air was electric with expectation. I just sat there staring down at a sawdust covered arena - gobsmacked.

I had walked into the place so mesmerised that (I do believe even to this day) none of the posters outside registered. I was that unprepared that when the first horseman rode in I jumped as the entire audience screamed their delight.

This wasn't cinema - this was the real thing. Cattle thundered across the arena as cowboys demonstrated herding and driving. Roped them in for branding. Rodeo riders bucked on broncos and bulls. And the gunfights - I don't think that anyone had experienced the euphoria and the magic of that day - so much happening; so much to take in.

And the finale - who can forget that. The stagecoach running around the arena, kids on their feet roaring it on. Behind, rampaging Indians ever threatening to kill all on board - the tension rising until that bugle call that announced the arrival of the cavalry. And how we all stood and cheered.

In the midst of it all was Tex Ritter - the singing cowboy himself - astride Flash. The spotlight began to swing around the audience and when it stopped one lucky child received a twin holster and a pair of guns.

When it was time to go we left our seats and went to meet my granddad. He was a master carpenter and joiner and had been working behind the scenes - looking back that has to be how we got the tickets. Then granddad beckoned to me to follow him - he spoke to one of the cowboys who turned around and smiled at me. He said something but my tongue just got tied up in knots and just couldn't speak - fortunately, my mum spoke me - but, I mean, this was a celluloid hero. This was Tex Ritter. However, as I shook his hand I managed to stammer out a 'thank you'.

Tex Ritter's Texas Western Spectacle remained at the Haringey Arena for six weeks.

I have never been out West but I have not forgotten that day in 1952 when the west came to me.