Looking Back, with Eric Leaver

HE DIDN'T stay long, but ex-Rifleman T Williams left his mark on East Lancashire - in the form of 3ft-high "We Want Terry" slogans painted on walls.

But the day after they were daubed, wags added the words "In The Army" in chalk. And that was what all the fuss was about.

In fact, he was just out of the Army in that spring of 1959 - given a medical discharge on the grounds of "emotional strain" only days after he'd begun his National Service - and in Blackburn on the comeback trail in Civvy Street...as 19-year-old rock 'n' roller Terry Dene.

But they didn't want him in Burnley. For, a fortnight before, 2,000 teenagers packing the town's Palace Theatre let out a barrage of boos, jeers and catcalls when it was announced he might make an appearance there.

That night, their idol was another rocker who'd got out of the dreaded call-up to the Forces - Marty Wilde, told just hours before the curtain went up at Burnley that the corns on his size 13 feet had made him officially medically unfit for military service.

But ex-Private Dene, with three chart hits and a then-staggering £500-a-week pay packet, had gone into the Army in January in a blaze of press publicity while his marriage to 22-year-old singer Edna Savage was going through a rocky patch. Squaring his shoulders and surveying the barracks square, he told reporters: "It's the start of a new life for me."

It certainly was. Hardly had he had his first dose of military discipline, than he was under sedation in the Army's psychiatric hospital at Netley, near Southampton. Days later, he was given his ticket out of the Forces, being told: "You're not cut out to be a soldier." There was a storm in the Commons. Labour front-bencher Herbert Morrison charged: "There is a strong feeling that favouritism had been done to this young man."

And his mother-in-law raged: "I'm disgusted. If he's not prepared to serve his country, he should leave it."

There were strong feelings, too, over reports that Dene might claim a disability pension. But on the day of his April 30 comeback show at Blackburn, during an eight-date tour with crooner Dickie Valentine, loyal wife Edna blasted the Army, the Commons and the Press. "A large number of people think Terry is a long-haired layabout - the boy who wanted to get out of the Army. It's unfair," she said.

Meantime, as teenagers were - slowly at first - buying tickets for the concert at King George's Hall, Blackburn, and coach parties from Burnley, Colne, Bacup, Hebden Bridge and Halifax were booking seats for the event, this newspaper was rushing out a special three-pence souvenir Terry Dene issue. And the wall-daubers were out by night with paint, lipstick and whitewash with their own messages.

"We Want Terry Dene" and "Down With Terry Dene" slogans appeared in huge letters on walls in Penny Street, Eanam and Yew Tree Drive, Blackburn.

And the Evening Telegraph's editor was sent two Terry Dene picture postcards with the message:" Please warn ex-Private T Dene not to appear at Blackburn next Thursday." They were signed "T.D. Eoka" - a reference to the Greek-Cypriot terrorist movement, E.O.K.A., which in the mid-Fifties had been shooting at British troops who were doing their National Service. It was the same grudge sentiment that lay behind the "In the Army" additions to the wall slogans that appeared the following night.

But though he refused to don an Army beret for the mob of photographers as he faced the Press before going on stage, the rocker defended himself: "I was broke when I went in the Army," he said. "I cancelled all my engagements for the month before and had just paid my income tax. I had to send my new car back. I left hospital six weeks ago and I haven't worked until now. I can certainly use the money I am getting this week.

"Someone in Parliament said I was rocking 24 hours after leaving hospital. That's as silly as some of the other things said about me in the House of Commons.

"Going into hospital did me a lot of good. I would have cracked up sooner or later the way I was going."

And he needed a cool head when he got on stage. "Shouts, screams and some booing greeted him as he started his act," reported the Evening Telegraph. "Dene's voice was inaudible most of the time and the screams were at their highest pitch when he went into a remarkable series of gyrations, spasmodic jerks and wild gestures." So worked up were some that a hair-pulling bout broke out between two girls a few rows from the stage and burly stewards moved in to sort them out while, during his next number, fighting broke out among youths at the back and the bouncers rushed in again to break up what the Evening Telegraph said "looked like developing into a general riot" as three Teddy boys ran in front of the stage hurling abuse.

"If I never have to face a worse audience than this, I'll be happy," said Dene later before being got into a van outside by a strong police bodyguard holding back a mob of teenage girls.

His reception in Blackburn, said the Telegraph, indicated his fans were still wholeheartedly behind him.

But as he left Dene was heading for obscurity.

His fame faded fast. But not the slogans in Blackburn.

An old-age pensioner living opposite a daubed wall in Bolton Road complained: "We shall have to live with that silly slogan facing us for months and possibly the next few years." She was right - it was still there years after ex-rifleman Dene had become Terry Who? to the next generation of rock 'n' roll fans .

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