honor.”
THREE
SELLING HIMSELF TO THE WORLD
A lthough George Underwood’s punch had damaged his vision irrevocably, David knew that his own nefarious plotting had provoked the attack, and that fact, coupled with his good nature, caused him to forgive George, and their friendship continued, undiminished. By the time he was fourteen, George, who was handsome and talented, had already sung with a local band, the Kon-rads, who played pop covers. A year later, in June 1962, David became the band’s saxophonist, calling himself Dave Jay, and also provided some backing vocals, while George was lead vocalist.
Soon David was playing gigs with the band, sometimes as Davie Jones, other times as David Jay. His first public performance with the Kon-rads took place at his school’s summer fete. He was nervous but the show went without a hitch, as the band performed covers of Little Richard’s “Lucille,” Sam Cooke’s “Twistin’ the Night Away,” and more. Although David was the youngest member of the Kon-rads, his creativity was already aflame, and he was constantly suggesting new songs and new outfits for the band, as he pushed to be allowed to write songs for them.
After leaving school in July 1963, on August 29, David made his first professional studio recording, singing backup on the Kon-rads’“I Never Dreamed,” a landmark event in his young life. An assistant to Eric Easton, a manager of the Rolling Stones, had seen the band onstage and invited them to audition for the Decca Records label, who then invited them to make a studio recording of the song. Decca’s reaction to it, however, was negative.
So David, never one to cling to the wreckage of a sinking ship, moved forward on his own, and with George Underwood formed the rhythm and blues band the King Bees, and set about trying to get financing for them. In April 1964, in an enterprising move, which more than likely was orchestrated by his father, David decided to make an appeal to one of Britain’s richest men, washing machine tycoon John Bloom, and ask him to invest in him and the King Bees.
“His father probably helped him concoct the letter,” John Bloom says today. “In it, he wrote, ‘Brian Epstein’s got the Beatles, you should have us. If you can sell my group the way you sell washing machines, you’ll be on to a winner.’ ”
David’s chutzpah impressed Bloom, who, as it happened, had met the Beatles, liked music, and said to himself, “This is just another young kid, but then what was Ringo?”
“So I thought I’d give David a chance, and called my friend Leslie Conn, who ran Doris Day’s music publishing company and was also a talent scout for the Dick James Organization,” John Bloom said.
One of the few music industry figures instrumental in David’s early career who wasn’t gay, Leslie Conn, who also managed a young singer from Stamford Hill named Marc Feld (later Marc Bolan), invited David to audition at his Marble Arch, London, apartment. Upon hearing David perform, Conn decided that the teen had potential and signed David and the King Bees on the spot.
“He was as broke as any of the kids in those days, but he walked around like a star and was prepared to work for success,” Leslie Conn said, years later.
Unfortunately for David and the King Bees, the first gig that Leslie booked for them was singing at John Bloom’s wedding anniversary party.
As John remembers, “I’d invited Roger Moore, Vera Lynn, Adam Faith, Shirley Bassey, and all the top London show business impresarios to the party, and invited David and the King Bees to perform as I thought it would be good for him. David took the stage wearing blue jeans and a white T-shirt. His hair was relatively short and dyed a cornflower blond with a Tony Curtis quiff. He looked like a young waiter who had blown his first check on a bad haircut,” John Bloom said.
The party was held at the Jack of Clubs nightclub in London’s Berwick Street, and when David and