John North: Guys, dolls and a good impressionist

Benny Yorke became known as The Man of a Thousand Voices, played the London Palladium and died at 63 after a fight against cancer.

Janet Golightly died suddenly, aged just 51. She'd been a singer with Guys and Dolls, or Guys and Dolls (North) as they may for the moment need to be known. Though they never made the Palladium, they tell a canny tale of the Zodiac Club in Whitehaven and of the Tropicana in Bridlington.

The column knew both of them and, of course, the irrepressible Mr Wray. Sad formalities behind them, Guys and Dolls re-formed in the pub on Tuesday lunchtime to laugh, to have a drink and, for more than two hours, to reminisce about the singing Seventies.

John Wray, who helps lead Artistes International Representation in Spennymoor, and Coundon businessman Andrew Golightly, Janet's ex-husband, willingly joined the misty-eyed chorus.

We recalled also the night that the internationally celebrated Swingell Singers played Spennymoor and lost, how the pugnacious PJ Proby became engaged to a lass from up the street, how John Wray had his car stolen whilst entertaining 350 pollisses at the Billingham Arms and how a Libyan called Sami Shivas had turned up on Sue Parkinson's doorstep, bearing a gold ring, a fur coat and a proposal of holy matrimony.

She declined; it was half past seven in the morning, after all.

Janet and Sue had worked for Black and Decker in Spennymoor, formed a duo, were joined by a couple of fellers and under John Wray's direction became Guys and Dolls.

"John told us that we were going to be the biggest in the world," recalled Sue.

"How do you know?" someone asked.

"Because that's what he told everyone," said Sue.

The blokes left, replaced by Wendell Sowerby, Len Calvert and Phil Kershaw. Soon they were sent off to Malta to "rehearse" - an entertainment industry term, meaning work their socks off - and whilst there in early 1975 discovered that Guys and Dolls (South) had a number two UK hit with A Whole Lot of Loving.

Guys and Dolls all over the place, something had to be done. It wasn't that John Wray pretended his act was number two in the charts, rather that he was in no rush to stress that they weren't.

Since the North-East group was first, there was talk of a writ. Finally it was agreed that they'd change their name to Kissing Cousins in exchange for a record deal with the southern group's management.

The record was called Let's Talk it Over, Janet Golightly soloist. They played it at her funeral in Ferryhill parish church.

"I hadn't realised the distinctive quality and crispness of her voice," said John. "That's why we didn't exploit it at the time.

"Let's face it, we didn't know what we were doing."

They went their ways after West Auckland Club, in November 1975. One or two never saw Janet again.

"Everyone she came into contact with she made laugh," said Wendell, who'd been the drummer and is now a cabinet maker in Bishop Auckland.

"It was Janet who made all those boring weeks on the road worthwhile. If you were fed up, you'd only need talk to her for 20 minutes."

"Daft as a brush," said John, "her enthusiasm just spread to everyone."

Len Calvert is a motor trader in Darlington, Phil Kershaw has worked for 25 years at Rothman's. His 15-year-old banger was parked outside, next to John Wray's Jag.

"John had us working 14 gigs a week," Len recalled. "If there'd been eight days it would have been 16."

The Colonel Parker of Spennymoor, they agreed, but they admired him so much they'd still turned out for nothing - and for John Wray, if not for poor Janet Golightly, the show still goes on.

THE impression of The Man With a Thousand Voices was rather different. Though the guy was highly amusing and richly talented, John Wray gets entirely serious when talking about Benny Yorke.

In the business they're known as imps, but Benny could be a little devil.

"If truth be told, I think we let each other down. I didn't totally capitalise on the man's genius - that's what he was, a genius - and he let me down by not letting the drink and drugs alone.

"Benny Yorke was the best I ever met and I met them all, but he screwed it and screwed it into the ground."

Benny - real name Bernard Ward - came down from Scotland, settled in the Spennymoor area, never returned. He had studied Buddhism before his death.

His Palladium spot was unpaid - "I did a deal with someone," said John, and none was surprised to hear it - but his television appearances won greater acclaim.

David Nixon asked him back onto his show - "it was quite a big deal in those days" - Tommy Cooper loved him. "They were kindred spirits, both as mad as hatters," said John.

Benny also appeared on the impressionists showcase Who Do You Do, with Freddie Starr also on the bill. "Freddie didn't much care for Benny being there because he knew he was real competition.

"His talent was amazing, his singing voice outstanding and his vocal impressions way ahead of their time.

"Unfortunately, he would start being stupid, swearing and being objectionable after a few drinks and in those days you couldn't do it. Benny overcooked it a bit."

He left the stage about ten years ago, when the thousand voices began to merge but is remembered with much affection. "When Benny got drunk, he got really drunk," said John.

"Once we had to carry him out and he was still doing his impressions. But for that, he'd have been the biggest in Britain."

JOHN Wray, long in partnership with Colin Pearson, moves in more classical circles now. Among others, AIR represents the Moscow Ballet.

Greyer and heavier than when last we met, he'll be 60 in January and plans a huge party to which all Tuesday's crowd are invited - so long as they wear Sixities gear.

He eyed up the column. "You," said John, "might as well come just as you are."

HARDLY had last week's column helped launch John Robinson's barefoot 20 mile walk than the polliss put their foot down and forbade it. Too dangerous.

John - Shildon lad, martial arts record breaker, fund raiser for 30 years - had planned to hoof between Chester Moor and Heighington, mostly on the pavements alongside the A167, to help the Breast Cancer Research Appeal.

It's not saving his soles which worries the police, however, as the large number of co-walkers and supporters he hoped to attract to the August Bank Holiday Monday event.

Margaret Wilde, a friend whose own breast cancer inspired JR to put bare feet forward, accepts that constabulary duty has to be done.

"We're holding fire to see if we can come up with something else," she says. One step at a time, more anon.

...and finally, it was shortly before midnight on Friday when a reader rang to report that one of the stars of the show at Darlington Civic Theatre was called John North. He'd got his autograph that night. In the cold light of the morrow the same chap rang back. "His name's really John Arthur, it's his writing to blame," he said. Yes, we replied, of course.