Tin Pan Alley

I’ve worked most of my life in Tin Pan Alley. ‘Moon and June’ and ‘love and dove’ are bread and butter to me. Not that I ever had too much bread or butter while I was working. In those days we used to try and sell our songs to the better known singers. Some of mine even made it to the Hit Parade but not often enough to make my fortune.

Then Bill Hayley came along and the bottom fell out of the song writing business. I did have a go at writing some stuff in the new style but it was never a success, so I retired,

Then a while later a young lad knocked on my door and said he was thinking of starting a singing group. Would it be possible that I had some old songs that he could use, that might give him ideas for his band. I fetched out a bundle of my modern stuff and gave it to him.

“I don’t want any money for them but you might find some of the ideas useful. There’s one there called ‘She loves me, I’m sure she does, I know she does,’ that I rather like. You could try working on that one for a start.”

The lad thanked me for my help and said he’d already thought up a catchy name for his group. Now I’m getting a bit deaf nowadays and he spoke in a funny accent, but I think he said they were calling themselves the ‘Beadles.’ Anyway I wished him luck and thought no more about it.

About a year later I received a cheque through the post for £5000. I couldn’t read the signature, but the accompanying letter was from a guy called Paul who said he was paying for the songs I’d so kindly given him when the group started.

As I’d always wanted to retire to Wales, I bought a small cottage in a picturesque valley and moved in there permanently. There was only one small snag, the previous owner had been a bit of an artist apparently and had no doubt sought inspiration by painting the outside of the cottage bright yellow.

It was a very cold autumn that year, so I thought I’d leave it until the warmer weather before cleaning the paint from the outside of my property, back to the original stone work. In the meantime I enjoyed the freedom and fresh air of the open hillside and went out on lots of walks getting to know the area.

On one of the last days of autumn, I was standing on the hill side looking down at the mist lying in the bottom of the valley. It completely hid my cottage but even as I watched the sun came out and the mist began to burn off.

For a few minutes the cottage appeared to be floating on the surface of a white sea. A lyric popped into my head as it came into view, so I wrote it down and sent it to my friend Paul of the Beadles. Goodness only knows what he’ll make of these words.

From the hills in the morning
My home can be seen
Rising through a sea of mist
Like a yellow submarine.