Tom Petty, The Marquee Club & Soho in 1978

Small venue with Giant Artists

The summer of 1978 was hot, and the evening of 27th June was no exception. I was always very busy photographing gigs, and there were lots of them all around London. We had just had Bob Dylan's first gig in the UK for many, many years, and he played at Earls Court in West London on the 15th of June ‘78. I was there on his opening night, which incidentally led to me becoming his official photographer and touring with him later that year.

I sat in my comfy swivel chair at my desk on the first floor of 112 Wardour Street, Soho, thinking how crazy my world was. The office (and chair and desk) was owned by Trinifold Ltd, the Who’s management company. I had a late night the night before shooting a band in London the night before, too. This was quite normal for me. My day had only started properly at around 11 a.m. when I arrived at the office. On this day, my diary says I caught a train and walked from Piccadilly Circus. That would have meant a swift walk up Shaftesbury Avenue and left into Wardour Street. Quite often, as I walked up Wardour Street, I would spot the man driving past me, who made me stand up and salute whenever I was with him. Yes, Sir Paul McCartney. The headquarters for MPL (his company) are in Soho Square, London. Initially, they were just along the road a bit, but in any event, he would always drive up our street en route. He often drove a little sporty Mini, and he would head up Wardour Street on his way to his office.

That day, I really should have gone to Islington in North London, to my mate David Meek’s Studio and darkroom where I used the darkroom. I had films to process from the night before. In those days, it was all film and not digital. But, on this day, I just headed straight to my office. I always seemed to have films that needed processing in the small compartment in my camera bag. I needed to either process them myself or spend the money and take them to a lab. The colour transparencies I shot almost always went to the lab I used. They were called NJ Paulo in Covent Garden. Looking back now, I realise how incredibly easy it is today with digital cameras. Back then, it was understanding photography and a bit of physics, too. In pure photographic terms, the tolerances and parameters were much narrower than in today’s digital world.

Once I arrived at the office, I would run up the stairs from Flaxman Court into the reception. Yvonne was our receptionist, and I would laugh every day as I asked her if anyone had called for me. She would always say, no, Danny, fuck off, who is going to call you. She always had a cheeky smile while saying that. I walked down the corridor to my office and sat at my desk. Well, I say my desk, I mean, The Who’s desk. I then made a few phone calls attempting to drum up work. I then got up and wandered out of the office and over to Hammer House. This was a building along Wardour Street almost opposite The Marquee Club. I got into the old-fashioned elevator and went up to the 3rd floor where Quarry Productions were based. They were the management for Status Quo, Rory Gallagher and others. I used to love being inside the Quo / Rory camp. There was a lovely family feeling there, and I felt part of Quo’s world. Status Quo were enormous then, and the office conveyed that. Gold & platinum discs on the wall, it was very Rock n Roll. I was trying to drum up business by being in front of them. Which always seemed to work. Almost every time I walked into their office, I would hear Colin Johnson shout something like is that Danny? Oy, Danny Boy, get in here. He would then tell me what he needed photo-wise with Quo or one of their other bands. He would also often instruct me to rush over to the record label called Vertigo, part of Phonogram, and see the wonderful Bob Nolan, their main man at the label. He would also have ideas that I had to go and shoot here, there and everywhere. So, after a brief chat with Colin Johnson, Quo’s manager, and David Oddie, Rory’s manager, I left Hammer House, crossed the road and walked back into our office.

My diary notes of that day also say that I spent a few hours sitting in Chris Chappel’s office which was right next to mine inside The Who’s building. Chris is a lovely guy. He used to make me laugh. He wasn’t a big joke teller but more like a real-life ‘Mr Angry’. An example would be when he and I drove back from Polydor Records one day to our office in his little white BMW 2002 company car, owned by The Who. Someone in a car in front of us decided to brake and stop suddenly, then turn left slowly. Chris pulled alongside them as he had his hand firmly on the horn and told me to wind the window down on my passenger side. They stopped suddenly and looked at us, wondering what was going on. He then screamed at them for not indicating. He would call them all the names under the sun and finish with something like, “What’s wrong with you thick c**t? Why didn’t you indicate? Are you saving electricity?” Then, just before they jumped out of their car to try and thump me, yes, me, the innocent passenger, with the window open, Chris would drive off at speed. Little did I know that as well as being the most angry driver in London, he was potentially a forward thinker. If that person, who annoyed Chris so much back in 1978, was driving an electric car, they could have been saving electricity. But he wasn’t, so that’s that! It did make me laugh at the time.

Anyway, as usual, I digress. Chris was a big Bruce Springsteen fan, and if I wandered past his office door and it was open, he would often say Come in and listen to this new band or this artist. He also loved the Sex Pistols album, ‘Never Mind The Bollocks’. But Bruce seemed to be the main one. He would play me track after track of one of Bruce’s albums. He was doing his best to sell Bruce to me and everyone. So, for an hour or so, I sat in there with him, just listening to music. Funnily enough, Chris did leave The Who a year or so later and moved to the USA and started working on the management side with Bruce. At that time, it must have been a dream job. Chris is now back living in the UK, and I must make a plan to go and visit him.

As the evening approached, I hadn’t got anything definite lined up to shoot that night. I might have mentioned this before: my modus operandi was (and still is) to go with the flow and see what was occurring. It was now about 7 p.m. and quite a warm, balmy evening. The cheap little transistor radio on my desk was on, and I was listening to London's 'Capital Radio'. That was my radio station of choice. I loved all of the DJs on there. The music they played was utterly brilliant. In those days, the DJs chose the music they wanted to play. Unlike today, with instructions and playlists from above. Some of the DJs on Capital were Nicky Horne, Graham Dene, Dave Cash, Roger Scott, Kenny Everett, Russ Kane (The Eye in the Sky) and a few other brilliant entertainers. It was such a fantastic radio station. For a few years, Capital Radio was the soundtrack to my life. So, as I sat there partially daydreaming, the next song that came on that evening was ‘Follow You Follow Me' by Genesis. A band that seemed to be everywhere at that time. They were flying high globally. Only a few days before, I had been at Knebworth in Hertfordshire, England, photographing their massive concert. I went with half of our office, including Chris Chappel. It had been billed as “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” I believe the tickets were about £5.50. I still have my photo pass from that gig. Genesis were amongst some other giants that performed at Knebworth, like Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, Queen and others.

I first went to Knebworth with Pink Floyd in 1975, and