Charles Hyatt, Contributor
ANY JAMAICAN migrant arriving in London for the first time in the early 60s could not but be amazed at the nights in that city.
If it were in the wintry seasons, it would seem that nighttime went on all day, whereas in the summer time there didn't seem to be any night at all. You would go to bed in the sunlight and rise in the bright daylight.
Whenever darkness would fall, be it for long or short periods, the electrical illumination would be more than enough to enable you to read a letter from home anywhere outdoors.
Lights came from shop windows which were plentiful on the main streets and street lights.
To someone from the rural areas of Jamaica or, for that matter, from the capital, this was really something to see and those who knew it could appreciate the lyrics of the pop song that stated 'London by night is a fabulous sight'.
Apart from the outdoor luminescence only a few activities were not allowed to be performed outdoors cricket, football and horse racing.
My favourite spots to enjoy those sports were the Oval for cricket, Fulham Football Club and Ascot, or on television. So bright were the night-lights of London that motor vehicles were not allowed to use their headlights while driving in that city.
For a place noted for the conservativeness of its populace, it was a surprise to discover that there was not a thing, legal or otherwise, moral or otherwise, that could not be found in London at night.
If the streets were bright, underground it was brighter still, day and night. The only thing that could not be found under a spotlight in London was a black policeman.
There weren't any.
As time went on and I got accustomed to life in Britain I got to understand that at that time my place of residence was, for the things that interested me, very much the focal point of the world.
SPICY COOKING
Top-flight entertainers were coming frequently to perform and make recordings there Tony Bennett, Ella Fitzgerald, Nancy Wilson, Duke Ellington and Brook Benton, to name but a few.
I had worked with Brook twice before back home and we had gotten quite close, so I engineered a meeting soon after he arrived and took him around the black parts of town. This he thoroughly enjoyed.
He never was an 'I must get the white people to like me' type of person. He felt that he had something to offer and he was prepared to offer it to anyone and everyone in like manner. If white people liked it, God was good. If only the blacks went for it, God be praised.
Brook and Vikki Carr were under contract to the same record label and they were both vying to record the same tune, With Pen In Hand. She had just had a big hit with It Must Be Him, so he was worried that they would have chosen her version.
He sang it for me and asked my advice. I told him to give it a go, because the tune told the same story from a male or a female point of view.
The label did the unusual they recorded both.
His primary purpose for coming to England was to be the star turn at Caesar's Palace.
I had, by the way, developed quite a liking for Indian and Pakistani cuisine and was known by my friends to travel hundreds of miles to have a good Indian meal, so while on the road and Brook suggested that we go back to the hotel to get something to eat, I invited him to an Indian repast.
Being the polite gentleman that he was, he didn't insist. He only said that he had not had Indian cooking before.
We went to the first Indian restaurant I had eaten at in London; we had a good meal and I dropped him off at the hotel to get some rest before the show as there were plans for some heavy partying afterwards.
I got a phone call in the evening saying that the show at Caesar's Palace was cancelled, because Mr. Benton had been hospitalised with stomach pains. Over at the hospital I found him in bed looking as grey as ashes. I got permission to stay with him until the wee hours of the morning, when he recovered from the pain-killing sedation and he explained that he had an ulcer which acted up sometimes, that seemed to have been set off by the spicy food. I was mortified.
He assured the Caesar's Palace people that he would be able to do the show the next day and would be willing to stay over an extra day to fulfil his contract. They were amenable, so he was discharged from hospital the next day.
The night of the first show I never saw him perform better. The sweat that was pouring out of him seemed to have endeared the people to him a little more, for by then the word had gotten around about his condition. For two hours as if to show his audience that he was at the top of his form he sang and charmed the fans. They loved him.
Back in the dressing room he signed and handed out autographed copies of his photograph. In the commotion, he winked at me to assure me that he was much better. Relief! The next night he did two shows to packed houses. The tour was a success, after all.
The next time I heard of him he had become Reverend Brook Benton and had his own church. Knowing him as I got to, I realised that it was just a matter of time.s
