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The incredible Norman Barker Story “HIDDEN HEROISM OF A REMARKABLE MUSICIAN" |
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The incredible Norman Barker Story “HIDDEN HEROISM OF A REMARKABLE MUSICIAN" |
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They played for dances at the Weavers’ Institute oppositeCentre Vale Cricket Ground and the Spiritualist Hall on Wellington Road. Norman’s musicianship had become so outstanding that Belvedere band leader Hardaker Varley had no hesititation in using him as saxophone deputy, so his band experience was increasing all of the time. . The silvery moon of Norman’s Imperial Dance Ochestra shone brightest though on the night of March 24, 1933 by winning the bronze medal at its first attempt in the Melody Maker All Lancanshire Dance Band finals at the Empress Ballroom in Burnley. The band had been augmented with Winfred Oldfield on trumpet, HaroldGreenwood on trombone, Norris Marshall on Sousaphone – and a coach party of Todmordon dance enthusiasts went with them. Norman had personally orchestrated the three chosen pieces, “Don’t Say Goodbye,” “Through That Open Window,” and a version of”Vine Street Drag” which was said to have influenced the judges considerably. Disaster struck him less than three weeks afterwards, after skidding from his motorcycle on route to work in Castleton. He broke his leg and lost his job with the Cotton Corporation. Undeterred, he studied hard and practiced hard and then, months later, made a decision which changed his life forever. He successfully auditioned with the light orchestra at the Palm Court Café in the Alexandra Hall, Halifax, and became a professional musician. Later he played at the 101 Club in Leeds, then on a ship’s cruise and with a touring dance band until, in 1939, he joined Mantovani’s famous orchestra. It all came to an abrupt end when war broke out and at 27 joined the Royal Air Force. He opted for pilot training straight away and was lucky to survive a serious crash in a Tiger Moth which left him with a broken leg, a fractured jaw and almost total severance of his lower lip. “Put it down to experience” he commented at the time, happy with his mended broken bones but happier still with his rebuilt lip and precious emboucher. Later, his air skill became so exceptional that he was qualified and flew Wellingtons, Halifaxes, Stirlings, and Lancasters, logging close to 2,500 hours. He soon reached the rank of Flight Sergeant, then received a commission and finished the war with four medals. He had such an understanding of aircraft that he was made a flight instructor and not long after, an instructor of instructors. Once caught in searchlights over Berlin, and to escape the anti-aircraft fire, he dived at full power to save the crew. The sudden change in air pressure burst both his ear drums but he brought the plane and all of the crew home safely. Another serious crash saw his crippled aircraft cartwheel with faulty landing gear but not one of the crew suffered injury thanks to his exceptional skill. He flew on high altitude bombing and photographic missions over Berlin and brought ex-POWs back from liberated Europe. Not for him a reminder that “England expects…”; to Norman Barker it was just second nature and after it was all over, something best forgotten. Music, after all, made his world go round and it wasn’t long before he was “on-call” again and after those five long years on the front line of Mantovani’s orchestra. He was playing lead clarinet and violin with them for the opening of the BBC Television Service and was also a member of the ATV Orchestra at Wood Green studios. He played on the radio with the Michael Krein Saxophone Quartet in which he played the baritone saxophone and was in Sydney Bowman’s Orchestra on radio and TV as well as playing alto saxophone and clarinet in Lou Whiteson’s Southern Serenade Orchestra. He became a competent arranger and author of “The Complete Violin Player” and “ had no trouble at all sight reading Count Basie arrangements scored for Ella Fitzgerald or Billie Holiday. He found many such orchestrations in the library of the Peter Knight Orchestra, in which he played for Granada Television. Norman was married – his wife Barbara was a professional dancer whom he met during his work in theatreland orchestras. They had two children, Stephen and Michael. He sat a degree course at the Trinity College of Music in London and gained his licentiate there in 1966. From January 1976 until August, 1981 he was the specialist clarinet instructor at Haberdasher’s Askes North London School for Boys. He died suddenly, at his home in Pinner, Middlesex on November 12, 1987 at the age of 75. Norman Barker became a remarkable man whose great career was born of sheer determination, not a jack-of-all-trades but master of all those he put his mind to – a former Todmorden citizen who deserves to be remembered. In this instance my thanks are extended to Mr. Percy Dobson, of Todmorden, who was a member of the prize winning orchestra led by Norman Barker and to the late Mr. Dennis Hudders former Town Mayor, whose help was invaluable.”
Bill Burch
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Here's a Norman Barker humorous story courtesy of his son Stephen: "I did however meet professional players. I went along to see Walter Knighton, a young saxophone and clarinet player working at the Piccadilly Hotel. I had just changed over to the Boehm system clarinet and knowing he played another system wanted to ask if he taught Boehm system. He couldn't give me any lessons but said he would have to charge me 3/6d (17.5p) for talking_to_me!
Thirty-four years later I was in Vancouver doing a world tour with Mantovani and his orchestra. We had just finished a rehearsal for our first concert when a man approached me saying he was the local teacher of clarinet and saxophone and his name was Walter Knighton. I asked if he was the same Walter Knighton who used to work at the Piccadilly Hotel Manchester and lived in a certain district? Yes, he was. Did he recognise me? No, he didn't. I told him he once had the nerve to charge me 3/6d for talking to me and I handed him a bill for ten dollars for talking to him. I didn't get my ten dollars but it got a good laugh from the orchestra and a rapid exit by Knighton."
More on Norman Barker
From Colin MacKenzie
Our Website Mantovani Expert Colin MacKenzie has some additional information on Norman Barker. Colin, as you may or may not be aware, has completed the Mantovani Biography "Mantovani - A Lifetime In Music" (described on our Projects Page).
"Norman joined Monty's orchestra in 1938 rather than 1939 and spent two months in a summer season on the Isle Of Man, playing twice daily with a variety concert on Sundays. Previously he had played in Nottingham with Billy Merrin & his Commanders. At Douglas (IOM) Norman featured in a lively swing trio on stage with Jack Stanger (guitar) and Freg Wigston (bass), both members of Mantovani's band. He also played at Butlins holiday camps at Clacton and Skegness with Mantovani in the summer of 1939.
In the 1950s right through until 1974 he was a regular member of the expanded Mantovani Orchestra, albeit like the others on a freelance basis. His saxophone solos are worth looking out for: Answer Me is one and the others include a re-make of I Live For You and my own personal favourite, the marvellous Non Dimenticar which shows his talent on this instrument to its fullest. Others include:
Bewitched, The Whiffenpoof Song, Harlem Nocturne, a re-make of Moon River, By The Time I Get To Phoenix, Little Green Apples, Leaving On A Jet Plane, Quentin's Theme and It's Impossible. He also played soprano sax in a new TV arrangement of Cara Mia in the early 1970s. Norman used to complain that he was only ever given one "take" on such solos, whereas on other material Monty used to take hours.
In my forthcoming Mantovani book I tell the story of how on one session Norman thought that a number would sound better on sax rather than clarinet which he normally played. He sought permission to play it, Monty acquiesced and listened carefully and then said to him calmly: "Unless you're carrying a third instrument, perhaps we can have your solo on clarinet, as written."
A gentle put-down, but I'm sure Norman took it in his stride."
Colin MacKenzie
Such quality and clarity of Mantovani information from Colin is evidenced in the biography, ""Mantovani - A Lifetime In Music" . See our Mantovani biography page. Obituaries from Saxophone and Clarinet
When George Gershwin died it was reported that the writer John O’Hara said, ‘I know it’s true, but I don’t have to believe it if I don’t want to.’ That was rather how I felt when Norman’s son Michael phoned to tell me that his father had died. I knew Norman for some thirty-five years , and during the 50s and 60s it seemed almost impossible to appear in a studio or theatre without finding oneself sitting next to him.
To the general public he was recognizable as the solo clarinetist in the Mantovani TV shows. Close-ups on the screen his somewhat unorthodox embouchure, slightly off centre with a prominently cushioned lower lip, all as a result of a wartime flying accident which to anyone else would have spelt the end of their playing career. Not so with Norman who produced a mellifluous tone and precise articulation against all the odds. He was so much in demand for light music sessions, playing for all the most famous names of that period when the BBC had a policy of employing free-lance light orchestras. Sydney Bowman’s Orchestra, Lou Whiteson’s” Southern Serenade”, and many of the BBC light music unit orchestras were graced by his presence , for hardly a day passed when he was not on the radio or in the recording studios. As an adept performer on saxophone and bass clarinet he was also to be found over the years in many of the West End theatres, and on baritone saxophone he was a valued member of the Krein Saxophone Quartet.
Born in Todmorden, Yorkshire, Norman liked to give the impression of being a naïve country lad in the big city, but such was far from being the case, for he was very much a musician of the metropolis, well versed in the West End and its ways, and with a keenly analytical mind in everything he undertook. Michael Krein use to say of him that he was ‘incapable of even boiling a kettle without going into the laws of thermo-dynamics.
Norman did not suffer foold gladly, could not tolerate musical illiteracy, and was the complete professional in his work. One aspect I remember well concerns the marking of theatre pit parts. Usually these are a welter of alterations, ambiguous markings, crossing-out and haphazard directions, producing a situation akin to picking one’s way through a musical minefield when called in as a deputy. Not so with Norman, who would meticulously edit, mark, and rewrite the part so that his deputy had no chance of going wrong. It was his ‘passport to success.’ Tedious and, what seemed to be, unnecessary rehearsal would set him off muttering darkly. A full run-through with Sydney Bowman’s orchestra of radio’s Time for Old Time which came after a long rehearsal and just before transmission would invariably produce “if they did this to horses the RSPCA would here right away.’ The play out on this programme was the well-known Radetzky March, with its tiring proliferation of grace notes in the clarinet part, always referred to him as the blood bath.”
Norman was a competent arranger but mathematics and, later, acoustics and electronics were more to his taste in his spare moments. He patented a pitch modulated vibrato for guitar amplifiers and electronic instruments, and a ‘variable mean tone’ method for tuning electronic instruments.
He taught at Haberdasher’s Aske’s School, and was a man of quiet, hidden abilities, writing, and successfully publishing a most probing analysis of sight-reading, originally for clarinet but later for other instruments. A series of articles by him on ‘Intonation in the orchestra’ was published in Woodwind World. Under the pseudonym Ramonn Kraber he published he published a book of pieces arranged for the cello, and later this year The Complete Violin Player is to be published.
To his colleagues, though, he will inevitably be remembered as a most accomplished clarinetist. His prowess on his favourite B&H 1010s was heard on far more sessions than anyone can possibly remember, and he was one of the elite few whose high definition performance was permanently in demand in the world of light music. He was a good friend and colleague, and he had an integrity, honesty, and professionalism which will be greatly missed.
He leaves behind his wife Barbara and his two sons Stephen and Michael, to whom we extend our sympathies and condolences in their loss. To us a respected member of the profession is no longer with us, and we are poorer for it.”
“In a profession in which those of a kind meet infrequently, because obviously the presence of one cancels out the attendance of the other, it can be surprising how vivid an impression can be given by some of one’s colleagues.
Personalities can emerge in a few words spoken during coffee breaks or over the all-important instructions of a conductor, sudden revelations of unexpected technique emerge in this corner or that; and of the hundreds of people one works with over the years a precious few remain in the memory aw well-rounded images who brought something with them. Norman was one of these.
It was a smaller profession in which I first knew him, and different. The war having ended we were all setting out on new paths and exploring all sorts of new fields, Norman in particular. He had been a bomber pilot in Lancasters and must, a few years before, have believed that his playing his playing days (exciting and youthful before hostilities began), were at an end. He had had a crash – a serious one which had almost severed his lower lip and seriously displaced some of his most valuable teeth. There was also some loss of sensation. Incredibly, none of these seemed to have affected his playing, nor even his nerve; and this was at a time when nerve was important – at the age of fine music.
The day usually started at 7:30 AM at Maida Vale, preparing for a light-music mid-morning broadcast of continuous nature, which meant being very wide awake and usually involved turning the page and standing to play a close marked solo at the same time. It was also multi instrumental, with bass clarinet and saxophone to handle. Nothing seemed to bother Norman except the intonation of one or two of his colleagues, which used to ‘drive him up a wall’ as he put it. He was in fact a ‘pro’ in the strictest and most complete sense; and though I rarely met him in the symphony orchestra, he was well able to take his place there in most positions in the section.
It was only later that I had the pleasure of playing chamber music with him – and by that I mean the Krein Saxophone Quartet, the nearest thing to a string quartet to be heard in the 40s, 50s, and even the early 60s. Michael Krein, its founder and inspiration, died tragically young, and for a few years I was able to take his place to complete the combination together with those who were with him at the end of his life – Chester Smith, Gordon Lewin, and Norman on resonant and nimble baritone which laid a foundation we were most happy to build upon. That is my most abiding memory of him in a musical sense.
The other impression I now carry of him is one I would never have expected of him – it is that of a deep-thinking and analytical musician in an academic sense – because Norman succeeded in producing something I would have never believed possible: a book in the art of sight reading. He often mentioned to me over the years, because it has always been the most notable aspect of our London scene, and more vitally so at the time Norman was his busiest – the age of Live Music. Frankly, I was skeptical. It always seemed to me that the way to learn to read was to be thrown in at the deep end, make one’s mistakes, and save one’s self from drowning by acquiring the necessary skill. Not so Norman. Somehow he analised the essence of the art and managed to put it on paper. For this he will not, be forgotten; but deserves to be remembered for much more. He was a real professional, a good chap to have around, and a personality who certainly made his mark. We miss him.
Jack Brymer
There is no doubt that Norman was one of the big characters of the business. His large frame, head slightly inclined, a ready smile always followed by his unmistakable chuckle are what I most remember. His great friendliness and sense of fun, on and off the stand, make me sad that our paths did not cross more often.
His strong playing (on all the clarinets and saxophones) was matched by an equally strong musicianship. Firmly held opinions on a wide variety of topics could always guarantee lively and vigorous discussion. You could not easily dislodge some of these opinions. For instance, the fact that quite a lot of bass clarinet parts are written in A really bugged him. As a very practical chap Norman saw this as stupid and capricious whim of composers and publishers. It is my sorrow that I will not be able to show him a bass clarinet in A I am sure that he did not believe me when I told him such things existed!
Norman’s Sight reading and Technique, which he published himself, is evidence of his fine musicianship and serious approach to teaching. It deserves to be more widely known and more easily available. Let us hope that someone will see to that, because I have found it very helpful indeed.
Stephen Trier
I have always regarded Norman as an excellent musician, a very fine instrumentalist, and a very good friend of many years’ standing. Always good to be working alongside, Norman was one of the real ‘characters’ in the profession, in my era in particular, and his passing away is a great sadness and loss to me personally and to the business.
Les Ormandroyd
It is always sad to learn of the death of a fellow musician, and it was especially so for me when Norman Barker died. He was ever lively and interesting, a good colleague and friend, and with his ever-ready smile he was excellent company. A fine musician with high standards whatever music he played. I shall miss him very much.
Ted Planas
One day, some time at the end of the war my phone rang. It was Wally Ashworth, Mantovani’s orchestral manager. Was I free to play 2nd clarinet with the orchestra for the official opening of the BBC Television Service at Alexandra Palace? Apparently at the outbreak of war Mantovani’s program was the very last programme to be transmitted and the BBC thought it was fitting that Mantovani should reo-open the service after the long weary years of war.
Wally asked me to contact the 1st clarinet, a Mr. Norman Barker, who had just been released from active service n the RAF, and accordingly gave me Norman’s address, which I remember rightly, was somewhere in the North of London not far from Alexandra Palace.
I dutifully reported to Norman some time before the rehearsal and having rung the doorbell was greeted by a tall distinguished RAF officer still in uniform. I was also in the uniform of the Irish Guards (Private) and was just about to deliver a traditional Guards salute when Norman, seeing my confusion, took me by the arm with the words: “Forget the bull, Frank. The war is over.
From that first encounter a lasting friendship of some forty years was formed. After a pint or two in the local we made our way to Alexandra Palace for the pre-rehearsal. Norman played with consummate skill, and it was not until some time during the rehearsal and it was not until some time during the rehearsal that I began to realize that next to me was a musician who had not seen a clarinet or saxophone for many years and who had in fact been piloting Halifaxes and Landasters on many tours of Ops and had survived to return to his profession still in command of his instrument exactly as before.
We played together on countless sessions. I remember we were together on countless sessions. I remember we were together in the original ATV Orchestra at Wood Green, and the Peter Knight Orchestra for Granada at Chelsea Palace – television light entertainment shows, I may add, which demanded the highest standard from the reed section.
Those were the days of real light entertainment as opposed to today’s diet of endless chat shows or quiz shows with their never play-on’s and play off’s. It was not uncommon to open the book and find Coq D’Or or Sylphides followed by Basie arrangements for Ella or Billie Holiday. Norman took these in his stride with consummate ease, such was his musicianship.
As time went on our friendship matured , fostered by my great admiration for a man who had done so much for his country, and his reticence to talk about his war record. However, as time went on I managed by subterfuge to pry from Norman some of his war experiences. I recall that he told me that before the war he also played the flute, but because of a serious flying accident his lower lip was almost severed thus destroying his flute embouchure. I also recall that he was coned by searchlights over Berlin, and to escape the anti-aircraft fire which was immediately directed into the cone, he had to dive at full power to save his crew. The sudden change in pressure burst both ear drums – not the kindest thing to happen to a musician, yet he returned after the war still at the top of his profession.
As a mark of respect I dubbed him the Skipper, a nickname that stuck to him all of his life, and one of which I think he was secretly proud. I have no need to eulogize about his musicianship: his track record speaks for itself.
We will miss his quiet sense of humour and his good fellowship. He was a fine musician and a fine gentleman. Whenever we hear the word Skipper we will always think of Norman.
Frank Reidy
Please see the offerings of Norman Barker's "Sight Reading..." book series from Amazon.com UK:
The Saxophone and Clarinet book is also available from book25.co.uk.
