I had Keith Moon, & The Who in my office. Then he said "Bob (Dylan) wants a word with you!"
It was the end of May or early June 1978, and I was sitting and daydreaming in my office in Soho, London. London’s Capital Radio was playing on the cheap little transistor radio. It sat on a shelf by the window that looked out over Flaxman Court, the alley between The Ship pub and our office. I was probably listening to one of the great DJs, Roger Scott or Kenny Everett. I can’t remember. So, as I sat there staring into space, I sang along very badly to Paul McCartney & Wing's song, ‘With A Little Luck’. Anyone who may have heard me would agree that I was killing it, and not in a good way. It is yet another amazing song by the brilliant Mr McCartney. It was from Paul McCartney & Wings’ fantastic ‘London Town’ album.
I was a teenager, and I had my own office in the management office of one of the greatest and biggest bands in the world, ‘The Who’. Suddenly, my friend and fellow music photographer, Matthew Taylor, bounced into my office. He was well known to the receptionist, Yvonne, so I had no prior warning of his impending arrival as he would charge in the main door and run down to my office, a bit like an enthusiastic kid. I guess that is why we got on so well; we were both very ambitious teenagers. Matthew was lovable, energetic and, at the same time, quite anxious. Let’s not forget that he was a brilliant photographer. He brought me out of my daydream with a bang as he ran into the office and stopped me dead at my attempt to sing along with the songs on the radio. He said, “Danny, Bob Dylan is coming to London for the first time in almost ten years!” I said, “who?” which I knew would annoy him and start him moaning at me. He knew I was only joking. I asked what the big deal was, and he said, “We just have to photograph him”. Of course, I agreed with him. Neither of us knew which record label Bob Dylan was on. We needed to know because the record label would be our way of getting photo passes in those days. We needed to go to a local record store and look at one of his albums to see what label he was on. So we both went out of my office, down the stairs and through Flaxman Court into Wardour Street, around the corner into Berwick Street.
There were many record shops there. At that time, my mate, Shane MacGowan, who years later became the frontman for ‘The Pogues’, worked in one of them. We grabbed a Bob Dylan album and saw that it said CBS Records.
We raced back to my office and got the phone number for the press office at CBS. I was always the one doing the talking and negotiating for the two of us. So, I established that the lady who ran the CBS Press Office was Ellie Smith. I called her up as Matthew stood in front of me. He had both hands flat on my desk as he leaned over, trying to hear the conversation from the CBS end. He had a habit of speaking to me through the conversation as I was talking to someone. I was trying to hear the person on the telephone and concentrate on what I was saying, and all I could hear was Matthew telling me to say this or that. He thought it helped. It didn’t. The last thing I needed was someone speaking to me and putting me off. As I said, Matthew was loveable, and I didn’t get annoyed. It was just his way. I got put through to the press office, and I spoke with Elli Smith. I noticed she was American, so I tried a bit of small talk, which went down like a lead balloon. She quickly got me back on track and wanted to know who I was and why I was on her phone. It was one of those calls when the person on the other end had no time for you. I said my name is Danny Clifford, and my friend Matthew Taylor and I would like to know if we can have two photo passes for the Bob Dylan concerts at Earl’s Court in a week or two. She asked who we were shooting it for, and I explained that we were freelancers. She said NO and hung up. I immediately called her back. She answered her phone. I said, “Hi, this is Danny Clifford again, and I think we got cut off”. She said, “No, we didn’t, I hung up. She then said no freelancers were getting photo passes. Only the big daily papers, and they already had passes allocated. She said GOODBYE,” and hung up again. I looked at Matthew and said it’s a big fat no. We then decided to revert to our usual route in these situations. We had to find a ticket tout, or scalper as they are known in the USA. We found one and bought two of the cheapest tickets. They happened to be for the upper level right at the back of Earl’s Court. This was a big arena and, from memory, held around 19 thousand people. Having seats at the top and the back would not be very good for us photographers.
I had been working extensively with many different artists then. Among them were my friends from the band Status Quo, the amazing guitarist Rory Gallagher, and Paul and Linda McCartney. Matthew and I knew that they would all be there on the opening night of Bob Dylan’s concerts in London, and we knew they would be in the front row. Just for the record, I got to know Paul & Linda through Matthew a few years before this. Status Quo: I had been touring with a lot for about a year, and they were now all good friends. I had also been touring with Rory Gallagher, and I had recently shot photos for his album, Photo Finish, and a live show in Victoria a day or two before this Dylan gig. So, we were in touch with them all most days. So, it wasn’t a coincidence that we knew they would be there.
Finally, the date arrived, June 15th 1978, and it was Bob Dylan’s big opening night in London. By now, tickets were impossible to come by. So, we didn’t want to mislay or lose the little bits of paper that were our tickets.
Matthew and I arrived early, looked around and observed where everyone was going. I wanted to see how carefully the people checked your tickets and searched the people entering the main arena. My camera body was under my arm, with the strap hidden around my neck. I had a lens in my underpants. That was the place I least expected to be frisked, and luckily, I was right that night. I only had a small amount of film. I had no money then, so the film was often rationed.
As Matthew and I watched the staff at Earl’s Court check tickets, we knew we needed to be inventive. We both said goodbye to each other and split up. If one of us got stopped, we didn’t want the other to be caught at the same time. This was a big place, and we both parted company. We did have a meeting or rendezvous point outside after the show. That place was the row of public telephone call boxes outside of Earls Court station. Let’s not forget that there were no mobile phones in those days. We had to plan ahead with everything we did.
I had to find a way of distracting the guys checking and searching at the doors. I only had about five pounds on me. As I mentioned, money was tight in those days. I went to the open public bar in the foyer and bought as many small bottles of beer as possible. I waited and watched the crowd and the doors into the main arena. Then suddenly, it was the last call for the show, as it was a few minutes before showtime. As I had hoped, everyone rushed at the same time for the doors. The security guys were overrun with people trying to get past them. I got into the middle of it all with my arms full of bottles. I got to the doors and was asked, “Where is your ticket?” I said, “It's in my back pocket. I can't reach it as I have all of Paul McCartney’s beers here, and I have to get them to him before the show starts”. The guy said, “Paul McCartney?” I said, “Yup! Do you want one of his beers?” The answer was a straight “Yes”. I let him take one, and I moved straight past him and into the massive arena. As I walked down toward the front, I was stopped by another security guy who was really more of an usher, checking tickets to see where I should be going. Again, I told him I knew where I was going as I was with Paul McCartney, and I had his beers. The security guy said, “Paul McCartney?” I said, “Yup!” and I offered him one of the beers, which he gladly took. I walked off at speed and with the usual purpose of looking like I was on a mission and didn’t want to be stopped or questioned again. I arrived at the front to see Paul & Linda McCartney, Rick Parfitt (Status Quo) and Rory Gallagher sitting there.
They were all rather surprised to see me, and they all seemed to think I had just popped down to the front to say hello. Well, it was a bit of a shock for them when I dumped the beers at their feet and asked nicely if they would move up and let me sit down next to them. After explaining and a promise that I would be gone in a few minutes, I sat between Rick & Rory. A few minutes later, the house lights went down, and on came the band, followed by a god-like Bob Dylan. The whole arena went wild. When I say God-like, that is what it felt like. I had been working with Queen, The Who, The Rolling Stones, Peter Frampton, Elton John, Rory Gallagher and many others recently, but this was different. The atmosphere was quite extraordinary and hard to describe. Maybe partly because so many other artists were there to see him; it affected me. I knew that I had to get some great shots of him. I couldn’t see any other photographers anywhere, but up until then, I hadn’t been looking around much. I was concentrating on getting to where I needed to be and not becoming a spectacle myself, just keeping out of the way. Bob Dylan was right in front of me, and I then knew I was getting some great shots of him. I only had a limited amount of film with me. So, I shot as much as I could as quickly as I could. I said goodbye and got out of the arena. I didn’t want to hang around and find an unsavoury security guard attempting to rip the film from my camera, which they would always try to do. Although I had never had that happen to me, I wouldn’t let that happen now. So, out I went with my camera hidden under my clothing. As I was moving at pace out of the arena, I looked up and spotted the press photographers right up high at the back of the arena. They had been put in one of the worst places possible. I felt sorry for them but was quite excited as I knew Matthew and I would have the best shots. I got outside, knowing that I had photographed someone special. As I got outside and walked towards the rendezvous spot, I saw Matthew sitting on the curb by the side of the road. His elbows were on his knees, and he was looking at the floor, all forlorn and rather upset. As I got him, I said, “Well, how did you get on?” He had been thrown out before getting inside the arena. So, not for the first time, he didn’t do very well. This was becoming par for the course for Matthew. He said he had had enough and would call me the next day. I tried to cheer him up as best as I could, and we said our goodbyes. He got up, walked into the station, and headed off to his home in West Hampstead, London. I then went up to the phone boxes and started to call all of the daily newspapers in the UK. I got put through to the picture desks. As I explained who I was and what I had, I was stopped virtually every time by a very polite picture editor who said, thank you for calling, but we have our own photographer there at the concert. So, finally, I called one of the newspapers that came out around lunchtime the next day. I explained and asked them if they would like something different once all of the big national papers had been out for hours. Because I have it. The person at the Evening Standard said, "Okay, bring the film up here and let us look”. So, I jumped on buses as I zigzagged across London and managed to avoid the paying conductor on each bus; therefore, it was a free ride. I got to New Fetter Lane, Holborn, and the building where the Evening Standard was; I went in the elevator up to the floor where they were on. It was now late at night and heading towards midnight. The guy who ran the darkroom was not there. He was having a tea break. So, I asked if I could process my film in their darkroom. They say it was fine. So, I processed the film. I dried the negatives in a heat cabinet as we did in those days, then cut the film into strips of six photos at a time. I then printed a contact sheet and went out to the picture desk. It was awfully quiet in the office. The guy said to me everyone is coming into the office now, and then they work through the night. He told me to leave my contact sheet and negatives on the picture editors’ desk, his name was Philp Evans. So, that’s what I did. I then left the building and hitchhiked out of town to where I was staying. I got home around 4 am, which was normal for me. The next day, I got up and headed back to London. I arrived at my office, and as normal, I would walk in and ask Yvonne if anyone had called me. She would, nearly every time, say, “Fuck off, nobody has called you”. It was a standing joke that nobody called me. Only my girlfriend Lyn, who is now my wife. So, on this day, I walked in and asked if anyone had called me, and she said yes! I then said, “Fuck off, are you serious,” She said yes, call Philip Evans at the Evening Standard. I said oh, he must want me to come and collect my negatives from the Bob Dylan show last night. I walked down the corridor to my office, and I said hello to Chris Chappel and Peter Meaden (who discovered The Who and invented the MOD Culture). Chris was opposite me, and Peter was next to me. I entered my office, sat at my desk and called Philip Evans. He immediately asked me if I had seen the paper today. I said no, why? He said go and get one and call me back. I ran out of the office and up Wardour Street to the newspaper seller on the street. As I approached him, I saw that the sign on the stand had a big ‘Dylan’s Triumph – Pictures’ poster. I knew it had to be my photos then.
I quickly asked the newspaper seller if I could look in a paper, and as I opened it, page three was all my photos with a big credit saying photos Danny Clifford.
I was thrilled, and this was a big deal for me. I asked for three or four papers, and as he counted them out, I handed him the money, and I had undone the clips holding the paper sign in the front of his stand. I pulled it out and ran off. He shouted at me and told me to bring it back. I turned and said, “Nope, one day I will have kids, and I want to show them this”, and off I ran. Funnily enough, I do have kids, three to be precise, and when I told them this story and showed them the big Evening Standard advert, they just shrugged their shoulders and said, “And what?” It made me laugh when they did that, and I guess they were only being funny. Anyway, I ran back to the office and called Philip Evans back. He was pleased with the layout and my photos. I called my girlfriend, Lyn, who worked in advertising in London, to tell her. She ran out and bought me a few more copies of it. Now, at this time, all four members of ‘The Who’ had all come into the office for a meeting with Bill & Jackie Curbishley, their management. Keith Moon was my mate and the person I got on best with,
in the band at that time. He entered my office and sat on the couch beside my desk. He then put his feet up and head back. He was dressed in horse riding clothes and had a whip with him. He and I were talking utter nonsense and craziness when the rest of the band arrived. They came to my open door and heard Keith and I chatting away. Roger leant in my doorway, telling Keith, who was now horizontal, to get up. Then my phone rang again. Yvonne said, “Danny. I have another call for you, a Paul Wasserman”. I didn’t know who he was, and she put him through to me. He immediately said that he was Bob Dylan’s publicist and was sitting with Bob in the hotel.
This would never happen today, but he told me they were in the Royal Garden Hotel in Kensington, London. He told me that Bob was reading the reviews and he saw my photos. They had got my number from the London Standard. I immediately corrected him and said you mean the Evening Standard. He went quiet and said, “Anyway, Bob wants a word”. I couldn’t quite fathom what was happening. So, I put my hand over the receiver and said to Keith Moon, Roger Daltrey, Pete Townshend & John Entwhistle, “Shhhh, Bob Dylan wants to talk to me”.
With that, Keith, like a shot, jumped up, and Roger Daltrey ran forward, and they both grabbed the phone. I then heard Keith Moon and Roger Daltrey trying to convince Bob Dylan that they were who they were. I can’t remember everything, but it was like, “We met you at this place with this bloke, and we spoke about this and that. We were also with this person, etc.” I watched Pete Townshend and John Entwhistle lean on either side of the door frame whilst this situation played out. When I think back, Pete & John had the opposite view of the room from me. I guess they were amused by it all. Finally, after desperately trying to get the phone back, I did. But Bob Dylan was gone. Thankfully, Paul Wasserman was still on the phone, so all was not lost. He told me they wanted to use one of my photos to promote Bob’s US tour. I asked when the US tour was, and he said September and November. I knew that a deal of some kind had to be done. So, I asked if I could photograph one of the other nights at Earls Court. After all, there were six nights there. He said no, we have a tour photographer, Morgan Renard, who was shooting the whole UK tour. No other photographers will be allowed. I just knew I had to persuade Paul Wasserman & Bob Dylan to let me shoot one of his shows ‘officially’ somewhere.
Would this be the end? Or would it be a case of utter determination, drive, cheek, chutzpah & total belief and unbridled ambition that could help shape the rest of my life?
to be continued….
Watch out for part two, which will come through your email soon.
Best wishes,
Danny