Sad news – A legend, an individual, a passionate grafter for what he believed in . I first met him in the early 70s, as a fan of the Big Band who dabbled in second-hand cars and did my car’s mechanics. He’d been a bouncer at the City Hall and was a ubiquitous presence at gigs everywhere. It turned out though that Jazz was his real passion – which I only heard about later from my two sons, who’d returned to University up here long after I had left the region.
I can think of very few people who deserved success more, in that he was tireless in the promotion of the Caff. If a plaque were to be placed for him then it ought to be here at the Barrass Bridge entrance to the University where he was omni-present.
As you rightly said. The world’s a duller place. Rest in Peace seems inappropriate in some way as I’m sure that he’d prefer a bit of noisy jazz
Regards
Andy
3 comments :
How's about Sting, Gerry and yourself...
Taking over the Caff!
Very sad news. I came to know Keith after I graduated from the University and was doing every gig I could find. I clearly remember walking into the place for the first time and thinking to myself that I had one of the best jazz venues, ever, right on my doorstep. That was in about 1991 or so. Keith used to live upstairs surrounded by his weird collection of whatever it was. There was a baseball bat by the door, but once you got on the right side of Keith he was actually very helpful to his musicians and genuinely passionate about creating a scene. I haven't been back to Newcastle for a while now but I gather that the Jazz Cafe has gone from strength to strength, which is great to see. Keith used to complain that he had little support at the beginning and it has taken a while for people to realise what a great place the Cafe really is. But at least Keith has some recognition now and it was not all in vain. I have lots of happy memories of Keith and my friends in that smoky late-night atmosphere. Some of those friends are sadly no longer with us but the memories will always be there.
Sadly from Wally Nash
Keith Crombie and me, (I), us, (we) go back a long way. Way back. We met in 1959, standing in a queue outside the old Melbourne Street Jazz Club. Known as the New Orleans Club to the unknowing. I was in the RAF, staioned at Acklington. I was staying that night with my Mother who lived in Heaton. I don't know why or how but we immediately clicked and started a friendship that survived the years and the miles for all those years. I have lived mostly in America since 1974 but we stayed close. How could we not as we had enjoyed so much fun and so many. "jolly japes" and caused so much havoc over the years.
When he had Josephines, i had brought an American girl over and we went to see him. At the door he had a chalk sign listing the available wines.
RED WINE THREE POUNDS
WHITE WINE THREE POUNDS
There was a rather refined older couple at the door in front of us and the gentleman asked to se the wine list. For some reason this caused Keith great ire. He puffed himself up, went red in the face and in his own delicate style said very loudly,pointing at the chalkboard, FUCKING RED WINE'S THREE POUNDS, FUCKING WHITE WINE'S THREE POUNDS AND IF YOU DON'T LIKE THAT YOU CAN FUCK OFF"
The refined lady nearly passed out. Then he saw me, pushed them out of the way and grabbed me and dragged me inside. What a wild night that was.
We were together during the Downbeat, the Club Agogo, the Whitley Bay Agogo, the Marimba and El Toro days. We went to Paris with Mike Jeffrey and Terry McVay carrying a load of carpets to fit out a Club, Mike had bought into in the Place D'Pigalle called Le Chat Mady, (I think) It was another wild time. We had set out one night to find the French equivalent of Newcy Brown. It took a while but after about four hours we found something that might pass for Necy Brown but of course we had so much other bevy by then we didn't know what bloody day it was. Walking, or rather shambling along the banks of the Seine, (Keith never walked, he always shambled. And he never walked striaght. He always leaned towards you as you walked pushing you ever closer to either the wall or the road depending on the direction of travel, all the time "fucking and blinding about stuff")
We saw a couple, (a man and a woman) standing next to a car with the bonnet up and staring at the engine. "let's give them a hand" he said. I was not keen as I sensed we were heading for disaster.
"What's up mate", he growled "Need help?" Lucky for all concerned they spoke English. To cut a long story very short, the guy turned out to be the Director of Development, (whatever that was) for Colgate Palmolive in France. The lady was the wife or mistress of a French MP, and the two of them were having a fling and he had to get her home. Keith dived into the engine and I his around the corner as I knew no good could come from this. I heard the sound of an engine turning over and then I saw a flash of flame and there was a small fire in the engine compartment which eventually went out.
"What the fuck do you think of that the said. A fucking fire. Any way its out now. Just don't ask how I put it out" I gather a stream of geordie pee was involved. Anyway, we went and got mu Doormobile that we had used to smuggle the carpet in and saved the couple's day and maybe their life by getting her home on time.
Lots more happened in Paris and in London and yes we did have a meeting with one of the Krays and we did run a Club together called the Cannonball, (a la Cannonball Adderly) and we did have phenomenal fun at Seahouses every Bank Holiday causing mayhem to all so called normal people.
I have a feeling he now has a little seedy heavenly club "up there" . Probably playing the Saints!
God Bless you Sunshine. You were,(are) a one off. There will never be another like you. How the hell could there be?
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