Shane Ward

Chapter IV 'Walking the Path': Autobiography of Shane Ward, available to download free on Authors Den.

If I were a Rich Man

In 1966, Alfie Bass hit the UK charts with a song called 'If I were a Rich Man', from the musical 'Fiddler on the Roof'. My Dad bought a copy of the record - a vinyl record that played on the gramophone at 45RPM (revolutions per minute). He bought hit singles occasionally so that he could learn up to date songs to play in his band.

I sat down in the living room with him to listen to the song. It was a song unlike any I had heard - or even taken notice of. It started with a simple riff and accompanied Alfie speaking:
"Oh Lord, you made many, many poor people. I realise, of course, its no shame to be poor… but there's no great honour in it either. So what would be so terrible if I had but a small fortune"
I found myself entranced by the notion of this song. As a child I had been taught to say prayers before bedtime but this was the first time I knew of a grown up praying. And then Alfie Bass started singing, "If I were a rich man. Ayaba derba derba derba derba zerba derba der. All Day long I viddibiddibum. If I were a wealthy man…"
I listened intently to every word and tone. It was a wonderful song with silly sounding words.

When it finished I asked my Dad if I could play it again. On the second time round I checked with everything that I had heard. I listened to the power of his voice towards the end when he beseeches of God, "Lord who made the lion and the lamb. You decreed I should be what I am. Would it spoil some vast eternal plan!?…"
A plan! God. There was obviously more to this God thing than I knew about. The words burned into my head like a computer download. "If… I were a weal-thy… maaaaaaaaan!"
The arm lifted off of the record and clicked back onto its mounting. I got off the chair in the living room and walked the few steps to the kitchen where both Mum and Dad were and said, "Mum. I know the words to that record".
They looked at each other and stopped what they were doing. In front of them was a 5 year old boy who claimed to know all 3 verses, two choruses and a speech at either end of a five minute song after listening to it only twice!

Mum stood me on the single step at the passage leading into the kitchen. Dad took his accordion out of the case and started playing the beginning of the song. Dad could play by ear. He had no musical training but in his head he retained over 1000 songs. Mum sat down and listened to me perform the song word perfect. It is a feat that I have only ever performed once in my lifetime.

The following weekend I went with my parents to a working men's club for ex-services. This was a local, members only, club that my Dad and his band played in every weekend. My Mum had coached me to sing my song with all the actions and told me that, if I worked hard at learning how to deliver the song to an audience, I could sing it in front of the members in the club on Saturday night.

My brother, Chris, was two years old and my sister was seven. We sat with Mum near the stage drinking a bottle of Coca-Cola through a straw and eating a bag of crisps. I had to be careful not to get anything on my white shirt and I also had to resist playing with the bow tie that matched those of the band members. Dad played the piano with Freddie on the drums and Frank who alternated between saxophone and clarinet. The semicircular dance floor was empty but the rest of the club was packed out with around 300 members, chatting, laughing and to all intents and purposes ignoring the band completely. It was 8 o'clock.

By the end of the first medley there were a few claps and the compere, Bob, appeared to sing a few songs. A few more people started to join in the clapping and by about 9 o'clock there was much more interest. It was then generally the custom that either the band played requested songs or invited members of the audience to come up and sing. Someone in the audience shouted out "Mac the Knife!" and was soon joined by many others in agreement. After a moment a gentleman walked across the dance floor to the applause of the members. The man in question was clearly a regular singer of the song as the band struck up the introduction without preamble. Members clapped their appreciation at the end. Two more people came up to sing and the audience was now well and truly warmed up. I watched with fascination at the actions and reactions of everyone. This was my first exposition to show business.

Then the compere picked up the microphone and announced to everyone, "We have a special guest singer tonight. It's his first time on stage so please let's have the best of order. His name is Shane and he is going to sing Fiddler on the Roof".

My stomach fluttered as I realised that this was my queue to do my first ever performance in front of a packed hall full of strangers. I looked over to my Mum who returned my gaze with a sort of business like demeanour. In retrospect I can recall later how, behind her eyes, she was just as nervous as I was but she was determined not to show it. She gave me some last minute instructions, "Don't forget to look at the clock at the back of the hall so you won't get nervous. Hold the microphone a little bit away from your mouth. Remember all of the actions we practised at home".

It was only a few steps to the front of the stage but I recall the way it felt like I was walking into a huge arena of empty space. I took the microphone from Bob the compere and turned to face a sea of people crowding around the edge of the dance floor. I looked over to my Mum as she sat there with an impassive face, ready to give me any signs or prompting that I might need.

Dad was sat behind me with his accordion, just as we had rehearsed dozens of times over the last few days. He struck up the riff and I waited until he had played it 4 times. From the audience there came loads of shushing until the noisy 300-strong crowd was so silent I could almost hear my heart thumping. And then it was time to perform for real. I looked resolutely at the clock at the far end of the hall. I was not quite 9:30. "Oh Lord you made many, many poor people…" I held the microphone in my left hand while my right hand extended to the heavens in supplication. The speech went without a hitch. Then came the first chorus, "If I were a rich man…" and on the next bit I had to wiggle my hips as I sang the 'Ayaba derba' bit. Those who could see at the front were laughing and others started to press forward for a better view. I could feel the heat on my face, as I became aware of hundreds of pairs of eyes watching my every move.

The first verse was a blur. Mentally I knew what I was singing but self-consciously I was trapped in a world where the only exit route was the end of the song. I could neither rush through it nor abandon it. I had to run the gauntlet.

And so I continued… "I see my yard full of chicks and turkeys and geese and ducks for the town to see and hear. Squawking just as noisily as they can" I did not feel too comfortable with the second verse as I had never managed to make my voice sound like the gruff Alfie Bass. If I were to make any mistakes at all it would be here. "And each call with a GEE, call with a GOO call with a GAIR call with a GOW! which sounds like a trumpet on the ear" The audience laughed and approved, giving me a little more confidence to tackle the last verse with a bit more flourish. "I see my wife, my golde, looking like a rich man's wife with a proper double chin", I sang, I tapping the back of my hand under my chin as we had rehearsed. More laughter and a little more confidence.

By the time I got to the last section of the song I had lost any fear of the audience. As my crystal treble voice gained in strength so my confidence swelled. "Lord who made the lion and the lamb. You decreed I should be what I am". By now there was just me, the band and the song. "WOULD IT SPOIL SOME VAST ETERNAL PLAN?" …and then a little pause, as per instruction. Then the big finale, "If I were a weal-thy maaaaaaan!"

The audience erupted in a deafening sound of applause, cheers and whistles. By all accounts it was a total standing ovation. I was bathed in the enormity of my accomplishment. I had overcome fear and uncertainty for no other reason than I wanted to show other people what I could do. The feeling of that moment was the most indescribable feeling of pleasure and achievement. I did not forget to bow (as I had been instructed). Mum had told me that I was still working until I walked away from the stage. Then, while the clapping and the cheering started to subside, there came a sudden shower of coins cascading onto the dance floor. Everyone, it seemed, was throwing money at me. My Mum vary rarely showed me any affection but on this day she was welled up with so much pride that gave me a tremendous hug. It seemed I had done the family proud that night.

By the time I had picked up all the coins, my pockets were bulging. I had sung to a packed audience, made my Mum happy and earned a pocket full of money. I suppose one could say that on this night, if not for any other, I was indeed a wealthy man.