RADIO CAROLINE

Part One: The beginning.

Britain's first offshore station, Radio Caroline, began broadcasting at Easter 1964 but what happened before that date, in the run-up to the launch, is less well-known. In fact the precise history of the period is clouded by PR invention, a good deal of mythologizing, some failing memories and the sad fact that a few of the main protagonists are no longer around to tell their stories.

 

It is generally accepted that, although Radio Caroline made it onto the air first, the planning for the rival station, Radio Atlanta, pre-dated it by several years. Allan Crawford, an Australian music publisher based in London, was frustrated by the lack of broadcast outlets for his record releases and began working on his Atlanta project as early as 1960. Europe's first commercial offshore station, Radio Mercur, had begun broadcasting off Denmark in 1958, followed by Veronica off Holland in 1960 and Radio Nord and Radio Syd, off Sweden, in 1961 and 1962 respectively. Veronica had tried broadcasting to Britain with some English-language programmes under the name of CNBC (Commercial Neutral Broadcasting Company) during 1960-61 but these had not been a success. It has been suggested that it was copies of CNBC sales literature, left in its office when the team moved out, that provided the inspiration for the next tenant, Allan Crawford, but sadly this is just another of the numerous myths that surround the early days of offshore radio. Although both had offices in Dean Street, as can be seen from the letter-headings on this page, CNBC was based in Royalty House (no. 72-74) while Crawford was at no. 47.

 

Crawford followed the progress of the various offshore stations with interest and visited both Nord and Veronica. Radio Nord was the brainchild of Americans Gordon McLendon and Bob Thompson together with Swedish-Finnish movie executive Jack Kotschack. McLendon owned US radio stations including KLIF in Dallas (later to be the inspiration for another offshore station, Radio London) and was one of the founders of Top 40 format broadcasting. Radio Veronica was run by the Verweij brothers who had made their money in the textile trade. Crawford spoke to them and took careful note of the legal loop-holes through which their stations were able to operate. According to his interview, at one point the Verweijs offered to sell Crawford a share in Radio Veronica but nothing came of these discussions.

 

The Pilkington Committee had been set up by the British Government in 1960 to consider the future of broadcasting in the country. In 1962 it published its report. After long deliberation it had decided there was no demand for commercial radio in the UK. Having experienced the thriving Australian commercial radio scene at first-hand, Crawford was convinced that this was not the case. By 1962 he had raised some funding and, when the Scandinavian Governments jointly outlawed their offshore stations, he made an offer to buy the Radio Nord ship, mv Magda Maria (previously called mv Bon Jour). The vessel was moved to the UK coast ready for him to take over but, when the Danish authorities raided Radio Mercur and forced that station off the air, one of Crawford's main investors pulled out of the project. This scuppered the deal. Eventually the ship was taken to Texas where McLendon planned to use the equipment for his other radio stations. (Around this time, the ship's name was changed again. She became mv Mi Amigo.) Meanwhile a young Irishman called Ronan O'Rahilly was hustling around London, getting involved in a number of projects. Since arriving from Dublin he had operated an actors' studio, run The Scene club in Soho and dabbled in various show business ventures. He had become involved in the early careers of pop groups The Rolling Stones, through his friendship with Giorgio Gomelsky, and The Animals and, through brothers Rik and John Gunnell, with Georgie Fame. The Gunnells ran the all-night weekend gigs at The Flamingo Club in London's Wardour Street. Georgie Fame and the Blue Flames played there regularly and won a large, loyal following. Legend has it that Ronan met a woman at a party who told him that the Voice Of America propaganda station was broadcasting from a ship. On further investigation he discovered it was not the only one. There were commercial stations playing popular music from the sea as well. Inspired by Radio Veronica and Radio Syd, by then the only two offshore stations still broadcasting in Europe, O'Rahilly decided that the time was right for a British equivalent. His friend Christopher Moore, a club DJ, provided the musical knowledge and, having served in the Merchant Navy, some nautical experience too. Moore introduced O'Rahilly to a friend of his, Ian Ross. They met one lunchtime around Easter 1963. O'Rahilly told Ross of his plans. Ross was impressed by the project and thought that his father might be interested in investing. Mr Ross Senior worked in the city and was an expert in raising venture capital. That afternoon they squashed themselves into Ian Ross's MG sports car and set off to the family home in Haslemere, Surrey. By that evening the deal had been done. His father put in some of his own cash, as did his friend John Sheffield, chairman of the Norcros Group of companies. Together they and their firms put up over 80% of the launch capital - some £250,000 in all. Other investors included Sheffield's son-in-law Jocelyn Stevens, then proprietor of Queen magazine, and Dublin lawyer Herman Good. They all recognised the plan had potential. In 1963 the Gunnell brothers financed a recording session for Georgie Fame and his band. The story has been told that Ronan O'Rahilly had the idea for Radio Caroline while trying to promote one of the Fame tracks (named as Let The Sun Shine In in an interview he later gave to Radio One). Having failed to get the song accepted for airplay on either the BBC or Radio Luxembourg, then the country's only broadcasting outlets, he reasoned that the alternative was to start his own station. In fact, although this story is a perfect example of why Britain desperately needed more music radio in the sixties, it seems likely that Ronan had already begun planning Caroline by the time he was plugging the Georgie Fame acetate.

 

O'Rahilly acquired the funding for Radio Caroline in an evening. His rival, Allan Crawford did not find it so easy to raise the backing for Project Atlanta. This was the company he had formed with city financier Frank Broadribb, publisher and Lloyds underwriter Major Cecil Lomax, accountant William Wells and others, including his friend theatrical agent Kitty Black. The chairman was Major Oliver Smedley. Crawford was a cautious man. He knew he was embarking on a risky venture and he didn't want anyone to jeopardise their life savings. Unlike Radio Caroline, Atlanta's capital was raised very slowly from a large number of small investors. “More than a hundred” people, some grouped together into syndicates, put up the cash for Radio Atlanta. One of these groups was comprised of several Trinity House pilots. In all, about £150,000 was raised.

 

At some point, probably in 1962, the two rival pirate chiefs met.  Offshore radio researchers Mervyn Hagger and Eric Gilder have discovered that Ronan O'Rahilly initially attempted to buy the same ship that Allan Crawford was after - the mv Mi Amigo - but, when his offer was turned down, was forced to look further afield. He obtained the former Danish ferry Fredericia. By December 1963 Project Atlanta finally had the funds to purchase the mv Mi Amigo. The ship was brought back across the Atlantic. Since its time as Radio Nord, the old aerial mast had been removed and Crawford needed a quiet unobtrusive harbour where a new antenna could be erected. By a lucky coincidence Aodogán O'Rahilly owned just such a port, Greenore, situated in a secluded part of Ireland, near the border with the north. Ronan O'Rahilly was concerned that, as Radio Atlanta had the advantage of owning an already converted broadcasting vessel, it might make it onto the air first. To keep an eye on the station's progress not only did he move the Fredericia to Greenore but he also offered the port's services to Atlanta. Crawford was understandably wary of this surprising offer but he realised that secrecy was vital and Greenore was an ideal place for the work to be carried out, far away from prying eyes. In return for the use of the harbour, Caroline was allowed time in Atlanta's London studio. This they used for DJ training and to pre-record programmes, put together with the help of Atlanta's Australian producer Ken Evans. This co-operation between the two rival organisations is not quite as strange as it now seems because it had been mutually agreed that the two stations would not directly compete. It had been decided that Caroline would broadcast to northern England while Atlanta took the south. The Atlanta team might have had the advantage that their ship had already been converted for use as a floating radio station but O'Rahilly's family connections in the port ensured that the Fredericia continually got preferential treatment and the Mi Amigo suffered a number of setbacks. As a result, it was the Caroline vessel which was the first to set sail. 
The origin of the name Caroline is a matter of some debate. O'Rahilly has told the story that it was while flying to America to buy the transmitters for the station that inspiration struck. Leafing through a copy of a magazine (possibly Look, Life, or The Washington Post), he came across a photo spread of the American President Kennedy in The White House. One of the photographs showed his daughter Caroline playing in The Oval Office and disrupting the business of government. The image inspired O'Rahilly. Radio Veronica already operated under a female name (derived from VRON, the initials of Vrije Radio Omroep Nederland, Free Radio Broadcasting Netherlands) and Radio Caroline seemed equally suitable. The Radio Atlanta team heard a different story. They were under the impression that Ronan had named the station after Caroline Maudling, the daughter of politician Reginald Maudling, who, rumour had it, O'Rahilly was rather keen on at the time. Mervyn Hagger and Eric Gilder have come up with a third possibility. They discovered that Beatrix Miller, the editor-in-chief of (Caroline director) Jocelyn Stevens' Queen magazine had created a style-sheet for the publication. It listed the attributes of the ideal reader: young, trendy, bright and “with-it”, Miller had christened this perfect consumer ‘Caroline'. Maybe all three suggestions are correct. Could it have been the coincidence that O'Rahilly kept encountering the same name that convinced him to call his station Caroline?

 

On the evening of Good Friday 27th March 1964 the Fredericia dropped anchor, not in the north of England as had been agreed, but three and a half miles off Felixstowe, Suffolk. O'Rahilly had seen Atlanta's audience projection figures. The largest available listenership was in the south-east and he wanted it for his own station. Precise details about the first test broadcasts are vague. Some claim that they started at about 5pm on 197.4 metres, 1520 kilohertz and that later, at 9pm, the first voice was heard. Others have claimed that the test did not begin until 11.55pm and that it was on a different frequency: 1495kHz (200.7 metres).  The tests continued the next day on 1520kHz. On land, Ronan O'Rahilly had summoned the media to a press conference at Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese in Fleet Street - but it did not go according to plan. Talking about it in an interview with DJ Johnnie Walker in 1998, he recalled: “We had taken this restaurant in Fleet Street for the press launch ..... What we didn't know was that the restaurateur had been quite adventurous with his heating system, so he had covered the entire restaurant in copper: the walls, the ceiling - he had copper behind the decorations to heat the restaurant. Due to this copper .... no (radio) signal could get in. So I had this massive great Zenith (radio receiver) .... we switched it on around midday and of course - absolute silence. Nothing came through and we thought, my God, something's gone wrong .... I honestly, to this day, don't know what made me do it but I lifted the Zenith and I walked out of the restaurant .... out into the street, followed by all the media folk. And the moment we hit the street, blasting in came the test signal, which was Ray Charles.” Ronan again: “We kept playing Ray Charles albums because we knew that the only station that would be playing continuous Ray Charles would be Radio Caroline...” Then at noon proper programmes began with the station theme, 'Round Midnight by Jimmy McGriff. Disc-jockey Simon Dee announced the station and introduced his colleague Chris Moore who presented the very first programme. After his theme, I've Got A Woman also by Jimmy McGriff, he kicked off with the Rolling Stones' Not Fade Away, although for years it was claimed, even in Caroline's official publicity material, that the first track was The Beatles' Can't Buy Me Love. Radio Caroline was on the air.

Part Two: The all-day music station meets the ship that rocks the ocean.

 

Although Radio Caroline was transmitting on 197.4 metres, the station announced its wavelength as “199”. With so few stations on the dial, precision was not essential for tuning a radio and 199 was much easier to remember as it rhymed so nicely with the station name. Broadcasting from 6am to 6pm each day, with a power of 10 kilowatts, the reaction was immediate. Within three weeks a Gallup survey revealed that Caroline had seven million listeners, an incredible achievement, especially as the station had launched with no advance publicity.

 

Listening to recordings now, it can be hard to see what was so appealing about those early programmes. In most cases the DJs limited their links to simply identifying the tracks and many hours were filled with the bland pre-recorded shows which had been stock-piled before the station launch. With no jingles, no news, no features and, initially, no adverts, the station sounded very different from how offshore radio is usually remembered but it was playing music all day - something that wasn't available anywhere else - and, in stark contrast to the scripted announcers of the BBC, there was a natural informality about the presentation. And, of course, the very novelty of a floating radio station was exciting. Initially Simon Dee and Chris Moore were the only live DJs on the ship, supplemented with taped shows - some they had recorded themselves before launch and some hosted by Carl Conway and John Junkin. None of them had broadcasting experience. Simon, Carl and John had been members of Ronan's actors' studio. Chris had played records in a club. They were soon joined by people who had previously worked in radio like Canadians Tom Lodge and Doug Kerr. With the Atlanta ship now alone in Greenore, work could continue on her uninterrupted. On 17th April she left harbour and set sail for her anchorage. Unfortunately part of the aerial rigging came loose and the ship had to enter Falmouth harbour so that repairs could be carried out. On 27th April the Mi Amigo dropped anchor off Frinton, Essex, about 14 miles away from Caroline. However their troubles were still not over. Thanks to some sabotage from two Caroline engineers, the launch of Radio Atlanta was further delayed.
On 1st May 1964 Caroline's first advertisement was broadcast. It was for the Duke of Bedford's Woburn Abbey. Despite bad weather, over four and a half thousand people turned up to visit Woburn the following day, 500 more than usual. The Duke was delighted. From this small beginning, the advertising began to grow and a number of companies, both big and small, were soon promoting their products on Caroline. By the end of May commercials were being aired for Kraft Dairylea Cheese, Harp Lager, the News of the World, Ekco televisions, William Hill the bookmakers and the Hastings Postal Bingo Club, among others.

 

The arrival of offshore radio created something of a stir. At that time the policing of the airwaves was in the hands of the Post Office (GPO). They were not happy about Radio Caroline and withdrew its ship-to-shore link (except for emergency use). They initially refused to list the station in the telephone directory. Eventually they relented on this and from November 1964 there was an entry for “Caroline Sales Office, Radio”, telephone number HYDe Park 9721. The GPO requested the assistance of the International Telecommunications Union. The ITU response was that it would ask Panama, under whose flag the Caroline ship sailed, to intervene. A number of MPs raised questions in Parliament and the Postmaster General, Conservative Reginald Bevins, promised that action would be taken. On 6th May DJ Simon Dee interrupted his programme on Radio Caroline to broadcast an unscheduled “news report”. He revealed that the customs vessel Venturous was nearby and asking permission to board the radio ship. He said the customs men wanted to inspect Caroline's duty-free stores. However, when they were told that only one person would be allowed aboard (and - perhaps - when their bosses on shore heard the whole incident being broadcast on the radio), they turned tail and sailed away.

 

Crystals for both Caroline and Atlanta's transmitters had been ordered from Continental Electronics, the American manufacturers. These had been posted to Greenore where somewhow they had all had ended up in the hands of Radio Caroline. On 9th May Radio Atlanta put out a test broadcast on Caroline's frequency after that station had closed down for the evening. At the time it was assumed that this was a publicity stunt to attract Caroline's listeners but in fact Atlanta only had the one crystal at the time, so they had no choice. This prompted the guys on Caroline to hand over the other crystal.

 

It was not until 12th May that Atlanta began regular programmes, on 201 metres, 1493 kilohertz, just slightly up the band from their rival. Colin Nicol presented the first show. He says: “I'm told my recording of the breakfast show was the first programme on Atlanta. Frankly, I can't really remember! I didn't hear it - I seem to recall being told afterwards and wishing I'd been listening, but the situation with Atlanta at the time was a bit chaotic with Bob Scott and Johnny Jackson (on board DJs) playing around with transmissions, taking ‘live’ breaks for themselves when tapes should have been running and so on. Also, as I remember, there was no real warning - to me anyway - that the ship was going on air until it had.” Unlike Caroline's low-key launch, Atlanta's first day on air included numerous pre-recorded messages from stars wishing the new station well. Benefitting from the knowledge and experience of their Trinity House shareholders, the Atlanta ship had a better, more sheltered, anchorage than Caroline, and the station enjoyed a slightly stronger signal too. Whereas many of Caroline's programmes were introduced live on the ship, Atlanta preferred to record its shows in its London studios. Atlanta was on the air from 6am to 8pm each day. Both stations featured the pop music of the day but neither was what could be described as Top 40 radio. Caroline DJs frequently played jazz, show-tunes and light orchestral pieces. Atlanta, too, covered a wide spectrum of music including country and Latin-American but the station boss, Allan Crawford, also had another agenda. It was very noticeable on his station that prominence was being given to releases, mainly cover versions of hits, from his own labels such as Carnival, Cannon, Crossbow, Rocket and Sabre.

 

1964 PROGRAMME SCHEDULES.

Radio Caroline

weekdays, initial schedule

Radio Atlanta

weekdays, June 1964

6.00am Early Show -  9.00 On the Air -   11.00 Top Deck -   12.00pm Around Lunchtime -   2.00 Soundtrack -   4.00 The Big Line Up -   6.00 closedown -   6.00am Early Call -   6.15 Country & Western Style -   6.45 Early Call -   7.30 Breakfast Club -   8.45 Musical Mailbag -   10.00 Work Along -   11.15 Morning Star -   11.30 Spin Around -   1.00pm Headline Hits -   2.00 Music The Wide World Over -   4.00 Sounds Of The Sixties -   6.00 All Systems Go -   6.30 Music Of The Moment -   8.00 closedown 

Part Three: Caroline sails north.

On the evening of Thursday 2nd July 1964 Ronan O'Rahilly of Radio Caroline and Allan Crawford of Radio Atlanta announced that their two stations were joining forces. Radio Atlanta was to be renamed Caroline South and the Fredericia, the original Caroline ship, would leave the east coast and sail round the country to a new anchorage off the Isle Of Man. This would enable Caroline to offer national coverage. 

 

Some newspapers reported that the two were merging, this was not strictly correct. A deal had been done. Both stations were struggling financially but, because Caroline had the deeper pockets, its backers had agreed to take care of Atlanta's debts. In return they would get a share of the southern ship's income. A joint sales operation was set up to sell advertising for the two stations. Although both were now using the Caroline name, they remained independently run - for now. It was not until the end of 1965 that the Caroline North team would win control of the southern ship too. From the original Caroline on-air team, Tom Lodge and Jerry Leighton chose to stay on board and head north. In those days the disc-jockeys did not play their own records. That duty was taken care of by studio technicians. We know of two who were on the voyage - Alan ‘Neddy’ Turner and someone just referred to on air as “Terry”. We don't know his surname but Bryan Vaughan has suggested that it may have been Radio Atlanta's Australian studio engineer Terry Saunders. Simon Dee decided not to make the journey. He chose to swap ships, as did Doug Kerr, to join some of the former Radio Atlanta personnel who were to host the programmes of the new Caroline South. At 12.30am on Saturday 4th July the engine was started, the anchor was raised and the Fredericia began her historic journey. At that stage, the listeners had not been told the ship's eventual destination. There was a pre-recorded programme of jazz music going out at the time but Tom Lodge took over with a live show soon after 1am.

We have pieced the programme schedule together from surviving recordings. Assuming it was the same on each day of the journey, the daytime output ran like this:
6am - 9amThe Early Show with Tom Lodge9am - 9.30amOn The Air (part one) with Tom Lodge

9.30am - 11amOn The Air (part two) with Jerry Leighton11am - 12 noonTop Deck with Jerry Leighton

12 noon - 2pmMusic Around Lunchtime with Tom Lodge
2pm - 4pmSoundtrack with Jerry Leighton4pm - 6pmThe Big Line Up with Tom Lodge(Saturday's show featured a run down of the new Top 50.)

6pm - 9pmSunset Spin with Jerry Leighton
Foreign interference on 199 metres meant that there was no point in Caroline broadcasting between 9pm and midnight.

Part Four: The sounds of '65.

At the start Radio Caroline had been run from the offices of director Jocelyn Stevens' Queen magazine in Fetter Lane but it soon became apparent that somewhere bigger was needed. Some luxurious offices in the heart of London's Mayfair were found, at 6 Chesterfield Gardens. The building became known as Caroline House. Other offices in it were rented to the actor Terence Stamp, pop group The Moody Blues, Track Records and the Rik Gunnell Agency. There was also an office opened in Liverpool, at 61 Lord Street, to look after the needs of Radio Caroline North. Mail for the north ship was directed to a Post Office box on the Isle of Man. Although both ships now broadcast under the same Radio Caroline name, they were still separately run. Ronan O'Rahilly and Planet Productions operated the north ship. Allan Crawford and his Project Atlanta colleagues had the southern one. The two teams did not always get on. Crawford was a middle-aged businessman. The Caroline guys were mostly younger and thought that Crawford was a “square”. O'Rahilly, then just 24, was attracted to interesting characters and mavericks and often took on people who didn't have any broadcasting experience. By contrast the former Atlanta staff, now operating Caroline South, were broadcast professionals (many of them antipodean). Following the deal with Caroline, some of the Atlanta DJs quit. Neil Spence joined Radio Invicta and later Radio London. Mike Raven was involved in King Radio and later Radio 390. Others left offshore broadcasting altogether. Life was particularly difficult for Simon Dee and Doug Kerr who had been employed by Ronan O'Rahilly to work on the original Radio Caroline but now found themselves on Caroline South working for Crawford. Dee was actually taken off the air and suspended a couple of times: once for disobeying the Captain and calling out a lifeboat when fellow DJ Bryan Vaughan was taken ill and once for chucking a pile of Crawford's cover version singles over the side of the ship. Bryan Vaughan remembers: “At the time of the merger, I believe that Christopher Moore was appointed Programme Director for both Radio Caroline North & South but he was always more concerned with the former. Even though the stations merged they continued to be run reasonably separately until the end of 1965. During this time, Ken Evans continued to programme specialist shows for the South (musicals, soundtracks, album shows, etc.).” Radio Caroline was playing a wide range of music at this time, including standards, jazz, stage show recordings and film soundtracks. The pop was concentrated at those times of day when younger listeners were available. The arrival of Radio London at the end of 1964 was a huge blow to Caroline South. Whereas previously it had been the only large offshore station in the area, here was a very powerful, professional, rival to compete for listeners and advertising in southern Britain. Unlike Caroline, Big L was an unashamedly Top 40 station. Meanwhile, with no comparable offshore competition, Caroline North was steadily building a loyal following in a region enjoying a local beat-boom. Its output reflected the tastes of its listeners, playing more country music than its sister station in the south.

 

On 30th January 1965 there was a State Funeral for Sir Winston Churchill, Britain's wartime leader. It was a national day of mourning and, as a mark of respect, Radio Caroline broadcast classical music and a specially recorded documentary. The station closed down while the funeral was taking place, as did Radio London.
At Easter 1965, Radio Caroline was one year old. A number of special awards were given out in the shape of a ship's bell to mark the occasion. Petula Clark was presented with one for Best Female Vocal Record for her single Downtown; The Animals received theirs for Best Group Record, House Of The Rising Sun. Tom Jones got Best Male Vocal Record for It's Not Unusual and The Beatles won the award for Best And Most Consistent Artistes. 

 

For a while the Mi Amigo was moved to a new anchorage in an attempt to improve the station's signal into London but, away from the usual sheltered position, the rougher seas caused enormous problems for the DJs and the ship was soon back in her usual spot. Later a similar move was suggested for the Fredericia but, in the event, she too stayed put.

 

In May 1965 Radio Caroline South hosted its first, and only, live music session when Ronan O'Rahilly invited jazz organist Jimmy Smith and his group to come out and play live on the Mi Amigo. The trio was taken out on the tender with their instruments but, once there, a problem arose. Smith's Hammond organ was too big to fit down the companionway into the radio studio. Try as they might, it could not be done. That evening, though, the session still took place as the musicians played live from the deck of the ship with the wind whistling round them. The first number: Hip Ship Blues. After that experience, the station stuck to playing records.
Published figures showed that in its first year on the air, Radio Caroline generated £294,000 in advertising revenue. This sounded very promising but what the figures did not reveal was that most of this had been earned before the arrival of Radio London. The competition from Big L was causing enormous problems as listeners and advertisers transferred their allegiance.

 

In an effort to fight back, Ken Evans was promoted to Programme Director. Caroline South tightened formats, reduced specialist music content (the daily jazz show Downbeat was moved to weekends), introduced news bulletins, began running shows presented by top New York DJ Jack Spector and generally polished up the station sound. In May 1965 the presenters were renamed ‘Good Guys’. This idea, borrowed from 2SM Sydney (who had, in turn, taken it from New York's WMCA, the home of Jack Spector) was supposed to make the disc-jockeys somehow appear more hip. Each was fitted out with a uniform of blue and white check shirt, grey trousers and a double breasted yachting jacket, courtesy of Burton's the tailors. It was, to say the least, unconvincing.

RADIO CAROLINE 1965 PROGRAMME SCHEDULE.

Caroline North

Monday 24th May 1965

Caroline South

Tuesday 15th June 1965

6.00am Tom Lodge -   9.00 Mike Ahern -   12.00pm Spin Around -   1.30 The Andrews Show (sponsored) -   1.45 Bob Stewart -   4.00 The Big Line Up -   6.00 Caroline Club Requests -   7.00 Jack Spector -   8.00 Revival Time (sponsored) -   8.02 The World Tomorrow (sponsored) -   8.30 closedown

6.00am Bryan Vaughan -   9.00 Don Allen -   10.00 The Anchor Show (sponsored) -   10.15 On The Tracks -  11.00 Top Deck -   12.00pm Keith Skues -   1.30 The Andrews Show (sponsored) -   1.45 The New Ones -   2.00 Top Album Show -   3.00 Good Guy Prediction Time -   4.00 The Big Line Up -   5.45 The Chappell Show (sponsored) -   6.00 Caroline Club Requests -   7.00 Jack Spector -   8.00 closedown
 

 

Caroline North already had a younger and hipper sound than Caroline South so did not need a similar make-over. The northern station did not adopt the ‘Good Guy’ concept but did add Jack Spector's show to its schedule where it proved very popular. Around this time the team on the Fredericia tried extending broadcasting hours until midnight but, when foreign interference proved that to be pointless, a new late night show was introduced from 12 to 2am: The legendary Midnight Surf Party hosted by Big Jim Murphy, alias “Murph the Surf”. Later Caroline South continued programmes until midnight on Friday and Saturday nights with the uptempo Party Time show.
Caroline North, far away from the office politics and with a relatively stable disc jockey team, was a huge success but the loss of listeners and lack of income caused by the growth of Radio London had serious repercussions for Caroline South. On shore staff numbers were cut and, at sea, a new DJ rota was introduced. Whereas previously presenters worked a fortnight on the ship then had a similar amount of time off, now they were expected to be aboard for two weeks then have just one week ashore. Many of them quit in protest (or were fired for complaining) including Garry Kemp, Doug Kerr, Bob Walton, Mike Allen, Roger Gale and Jon Sydney. Radio London may have had an effect on Caroline North too where, for a time, the station's chart was known as the Fab 50 - surely no relation to Big L's Fab 40!
A Gallup poll revealed that in the autumn of 1965, in its primary target area, Caroline South only had 0.9% audience share, compared to Radio London's 14.7%. (The BBC's Light Programme had 30.4%.) With advertising revenue down, Allan Crawford had to find a way to reduce expenditure. He began talks with Reg Calvert, owner of Radio City. Based on an old wartime anti-aircraft fort in the Thames estuary, Calvert's running costs were considerably lower than Crawford's. A plan was hatched whereby Caroline South would transfer onto Shivering Sands, Calvert's fort. The ship would then be moved to a new anchorage - one where there was no inconvenient offshore competition, such as the west country or the north-east. A joint company was set up to run the proposed operation and a transmitter was shipped out to Shivering Sands. But, unfortunately for Crawford, the plan had come too late. Project Atlanta had run out of cash. His radio dream was over. In December 1965 Planet Productions bought out the Atlanta group. O'Rahilly and his cohorts were now in day-to-day control of both Caroline ships. The Radio City merger plan was abandoned. Barry Ainley was promoted from General Manager to joint managing director to replace the departing Allan Crawford and Tom Lodge, senior DJ on Caroline North, was transferred south to revamp the output and boost audiences. Tom was given a free hand to build a new DJ team. This meant there was another cull of the Caroline South broadcasting staff resulting in the departure of some long-time listener favourites like Keith Skues and Bryan Vaughan.

Part Five: The North Sea fights back.

January 1966 was a bad month in the North Sea. On the 11th the Radio London ship, the mv Galaxy, dragged her anchor in a gale. The Clacton lifeboat was launched but fortunately its services were not required. The Galaxy's Captain and crew managed to regain control. The station was off the air the following morning because the ship had drifted inside territorial waters. By lunchtime she had been towed back to her normal anchorage, past the rival Caroline South where Dave Lee Travis was on the air. He commented that an old warship was being towed past “flying the surrender flag”! If he had known what the fates had in store for him and his colleagues, he might have been a bit more sympathetic. At 1pm on the 12th Radio London programmes resumed.

 

Just a week later, on 19th January, Caroline South's ship, the mv Mi Amigo, also lost her anchor - and nearly came to an untimely end. It was 9pm on a very unpleasant winter's evening when the Walton-on-the-Naze coast guard noticed that the Mi Amigo was drifting. The DJs and crew were blissfully unaware of the fact. Engineer George Saunders was on board at the time:

 

“We'd ceased broadcasting for the day. The weather was very bad - it was blowing a full gale, with driving snow and sleet for most of the time. The ship was pitching and rolling very heavily. People moving about had to grip things to avoid being thrown.Many of us, DJs, engineers and crew, were watching a very good TV programme about the life of pop star Donovan. Normally, when the ship swung with the tides around her anchor, someone had to climb onto the boat deck to turn the TV aerial round to maintain the pictures. Dave Lee Travis went up to do this. He came back to the mess room with the comment “I've never seen the shore lights so clear before, and I can't see Radio London”. At first we passed it off but he insisted we take a look. One of the Dutch crew said something and dashed up to the bridge to check our position. He found that we were drifting. At this point in the general alarm, the TV programme ended and the ten o'clock news was about to start. The TV signal broke up again, so we switched the set off. Had we but known it, the coastguards had noticed that we were drifting much earlier and tried all ways to alert us. But there was no bridge or anchor watch being kept. As a last resort they'd got the TV station to broadcast an emergency message - just when we'd lost the programme!We were well inside territorial waters. I went to the transmitter room with my fellow engineer, Carl Thomson. We took the crystals out of the transmitters and disconnected the aerial. I put the crystals in a drawer in our cabin. By now the ship was rolling very badly - far worse than I had ever known it. The Mi Amigo had a low freeboard so her deck was now constantly swept by the sea. When she rolled it was deeply submerged. Going down to the transmitters meant descending a long iron ladder. This time we had to hang on for dear life otherwise we would have been thrown to the bottom. The ship was rolling so badly that water began trickling through the deck ventilators into the transmitters. There was no way of closing the vents from inside the transmitter room. We had a couple of large canvas covers which fitted externally over the vents but the wind would have carried them (and anyone holding them) away quickly.

By now our ship's engine had been started but it couldn't hold us against the heavy seas and the windage of our tall aerial mast. We'd sent out a Mayday on our ship's radio which had been answered by the shore authorities and our tender. I thought that there may be fatalities so I was keeping a minute-by-minute account in our loose-leaf radio log. I gave the carbon copies to (engineer) Patrick Starling for safe keeping just before abandoning the ship and I kept the original. Carl was capable of giving a good account without notes. In the event of an official inquiry, I hoped that one version would have survived. About 11.15 we knew that we would have to abandon ship. We put on our lifejackets. The crew told us to take up safe positions because there would be a big bump when we touched ground. We were all completely calm. Someone looked at the mess room clock and aloud asked himself “Just think - another hour and I may be dead. Wonder what it's like?” No one said anything in reply. He'd summed up what we were all thinking. I had crawled under the stout mess room table with a DJ - I've forgotten who it was - and we ate bowls of cornflakes while I kept the log. We ran aground at about five minutes to midnight with a very heavy bang. Soon afterwards the coastguards fired two rockets to us and the crew prepared an escape apparatus called a breeches buoy. This was an endless rope and pulley system, stretched between ship and shore with a horizontal lifebuoy in which we fitted ourselves, one at a time. We were then pulled to shore - and safety. Before we left we all shook hands and wished each other well. I spoke to Graham Webb and Tony Blackburn and my fellow engineer Carl Thomson. He'd been most helpful. Before leaving the Mi Amigo for the last time, I revisited my cabin and collected my passport, money, keys and a photo of my girlfriend. Together with the logbook, I stuffed them all into my anorak and then it was out into the snow, water and breeches buoy.

 

On the way across, most of us got a thorough soaking. I lost my shoes. I stumbled up the beach towards a police sergeant. He put his arm around me and said “You're all right now, lad” and led me towards a waiting ambulance. This was almost full with the others. Some of the earlier DJs ashore had already been taken away by police car. DJ Tom Lodge brought ashore a large bull-horn with him. On the way up the shingly beach, I saw something vaguely like fluff. I'm short-sighted and had taken my glasses off for safety. “What's that?” I asked the sergeant. “Snow, lad” was the answer. I was so cold and disoriented that I couldn't feel a thing as my bare feet trod on it. At the top of the beach, bureaucracy was already entrenched. A very disagreeable customs officer asked each of us if we had anything to declare! The reception he got can't be mentioned politely. We were all taken to Walton-on-the-Naze police station and put in the warm charge-room. The time was now past 1am. Here we were given warm drinks, dry towels and excellent aid and comfort. I wondered if we were going to be charged with anything. Our heads were in a noose. The state now had both us and the ship in its grasp. Two things happened suddenly. Firstly, an Immigration Officer arrived and checked our passports. Secondly, the station sergeant stood on a small box and called for silence. He told us that under two Acts of Parliament we were hereby classified as ‘shipwrecked and distressed mariners’. That meant that all our clothing which was wet was written off and that under the Acts we were allowed fresh dry clothing adequate for our lives as mariners! The police then knocked up an outfitter's shop in Walton and we received free dry clothing!

 

We then returned to the police station. The press began to arrive and we all posed for a staged photo in the charge room. Then they asked for our stories but we were so exhausted and shocked that we agreed with practically anything they suggested. Meanwhile the police had found us accommodation in an hotel so we went there for the rest of the night. We dug in and everybody phoned relatives to say that we were safe and well. I shared a bedroom with Patrick Starling. For the first and only time I smoked a cigarette. We were both suffering from delayed shock, with chattering teeth and shaking hands. Patrick chain-smoked. In the morning, after breakfast, we met the press again. One man was particularly arrogant and offensive. But the London Evening Standard sent a very nice lady reporter - excellent psychology! She probably had the most accurate account of all. The police then returned. They asked: “We've been on board the ship. Who's in charge?” My heart sank. What had they found? I put my hand up. “Come with us, please”. There was no further explanation. Wormwood Scrubs was opening its gates. But I needn't have worried. They'd boarded the ship, searched all our cabins and put all our personal property into whatever bag was available. All I had to do was sign for it. We got the bags back to the hotel and had a major sort-out. No one lost too much. After that we had a few more photos in our new gear and then most of us went home by train. Only when I saw the press photos did I realise what a lucky escape we'd had. The beach was broken up by groynes about 120 feet apart. There was only one point in the entire beach between Frinton and Clacton - five and a half miles - where there was a gap of about 200 feet. The Mi Amigo was 133 feet 8 inches long. She'd floated over a concrete breakwater and come to rest neatly on the beach at this point, with only a few feet to spare at each end. If she'd hit a groyne, or the breakwater, I'm told that she would probably have capsized and broken up very quickly in the storm. I'm convinced that we had a Friend in a High Place that night.”Caroline South was silenced - but only for a while. The station was soon back on the air from a borrowed replacement ship.

Part Six: Caroline rides the Cheeta.

Following the grounding of the Mi Amigo in January 1966, Radio Caroline South was silent. Fortunately no one had been hurt in the incident but the ship needed a thorough overhaul. She was taken to Holland for this very necessary work. It looked as if the station was going to be off the air for quite some time, when, out of the blue, came the offer of a replacement ship. This unexpected gesture came from Mrs. Britt Wadner, owner of the Swedish Radio Syd. Her ship was currently off the air because of pack ice in the sea around the station's normal anchorage. The ship was languishing, silent, off the Dutch coast. Not surprisingly, the Radio Caroline directors jumped at the offer. At the time, for some reason, it was reported that the vessel was being lent free of charge. In fact rent of around £700 a week was paid. Radio Syd's ship, the Cheeta II, set sail for England and took up the Mi Amigo's position off the coast. Radio Syd normally broadcast to Sweden on VHF-FM. This waveband was not widely used in Britain at the time so one of the Mi Amigo's 10 kilowatt medium wave transmitters was brought back from Holland on a tender and installed by the engineering staff. They also rigged a temporary aerial for the AM signal. DJ Colin Nicol was sent out to the ship to help get the studio set up in the way that the Caroline jocks were used to. On 12th February 1966, after a break of less than a month, Caroline South was back on the air, although at a lower power than usual. Engineer George Saunders worked on board the Cheeta II with Colin and both share their memories here. George first:

“Our temporary replacement ship, Radio Syd's Cheeta II, had been forced from the Baltic by severe icing. A bit of the ship's history: She had been build in 1924 in Norway. Previously known as the Mosken, she had been used as an inter-island ferry for the Norwegian fjords and islands. In 1960 she had been bought by the company operating the Danish station, Radio Mercur. She replaced the station's original vessel, the Cheeta, and was therefore renamed the Cheeta II. The original Cheeta was bought by Mrs. Britt Wadner who started a Swedish station called Radio Syd. The Scandinavian governments acted against their offshore stations and passed legislation to outlaw them. The new law came into force on 31st July 1962. Radio Mercur and the Swedish Radio Nord closed down but Radio Syd continued. Mrs Wadner later bought the Cheeta II to replace her original ship. Working outside the law proved difficult and a number of advertisers were prosecuted. Mrs. Wadner even spent some time in prison. The Cheeta II broadcast until January 1966 from off the coast of Sweden. She made history in December 1965 by being the first ship-borne television station. She had a ship-built UHF TV transmitter, using Channel 41 and a clever aerial system. I saw all the kit when I was on her. The official reason for her closure was because of the severe Baltic weather. It was thought that the thick ice would damage her thin plates so she had to move to warmer waters. But another aspect was that the Swedish government had tightened up its already tight legislation against maritime broadcasting.

 

The ship's interior was quite nice but very old-fashioned. A long mahogany-lined passageway was below deck, with brass fittings and bevelled-glass panels in doors leading into her public rooms. The TV studio was in her hold. They had all the gear, including lighting etc. This was where we established the temporary Radio Caroline South. Most of our kit was spread out on boxes (tea chests, etc.) with connecting leads in between. The transmitter was all in pieces, all opened up with no protection (EET 7,000 volts!) because it had suffered water damage on the Mi Amigo. We made use of their studios but a lot of modification was needed because their style of programming was totally different. They had no Spotmaster cartridge machines and didn't use the one man self-op DJ style at all. It was just like the BBC - the presenter was on one side of a double-glazed window and the control room staff were on the other! The Cheeta's generators weren't powerful enough to run our gear so we transferred our General Motors 75 kV diesel alternator across from the Mi Amigo to her.”

And Colin's memories:.

“My overall memory of my tour of duty aboard Cheeta II was of happy times. They are good memories, so much so that when my job of helping convert the ship to Radio Caroline South was finished and the rest of the DJs coming aboard became a reality, I decided I was finished with pirate radio as well. My quote from that moment was along the lines that I felt it was not just last days for me but for pirate radio itself. The other strong recollection is of the factor coincidence brought to play in having the Swedish pirate ship available just after Mi Amigo went aground. That the Radio Syd ship was available at the right moment was due to the fact of the bad winter freezing the Baltic coupled with renewed pressure against the ‘Swedish Pirate Queen’ Britt Wadner by her government.  After hacking off ice from their ship, the decision was made to head south to set up afresh off Gambia on Africa's west coast, which meant Cheeta II was moving toward the English Channel at the time Ronan O'Rahilly made contact and did the deal that gave Caroline South an emergency home until Mi Amigo was repaired in Holland. I was sent aboard with the technicians to make sure the adaptation of the equipment was to our requirements. No doubt I was meant to be a presence and to represent the programming side as well. The ship was cosy and friendly. Especially so since apart from the Caroline techs and myself, it had only its basic crew, along with Britt's son Kalle. He and I became friends and I still remember him with sadness because of his tragic end. Of all luxuries, I had a neat little single-berth cabin to myself. The Swedes were good company, the food better than I had been used to on Caroline and there was not a lot for me to do during my long stay aboard. My recollection is that it was about nine weeks and I believe it was, but that does seem a long period.

 

However there was much to be done on the technical side: shipping the transmitter over from Mi Amigo at Scheveningen along with other equipment and getting it all aboard. I remember how tricky that was and can still picture the moment as we lowered away and cautiously eased the valuable and delicate bulk into the hold. One slip and it could have been all over for Caroline South. We were on the high seas after all. Then the complicated and highly technical puzzle of how to design and install an antenna that would radiate sufficiently effectively. Radio Syd had been an FM station and had not required a very high or complicated transmitting mast. There was no tall tower as Caroline had required for AM broadcasting over any worthwhile area of coverage. The Caroline South folded dipole system was not applicable to this temporary set-up. All that could be done was to adapt what was there and that meant rigging copper cables between the ship's masts fore and aft and tuning the transmitter to that array. It worked, as history attests, thanks to the brilliance of our technicians.  The more I look back on the history of pirate radio the more I realise how much Radio Atlanta and consequently Radio Caroline owed to the creators of Radio Syd and its predecessor Radio Mercur. Many of their original plans sprang from what had been introduced by the Swedish. That other great innovator of shipboard broadcasting, the Dutch Radio Veronica, must also not be forgotten as central to the innovations that resulted in the advent of British offshore radio. More than a generation later, they are all still well remembered, and missed.”

Colin describes the Cheeta II as cosy and friendly. George has rather different memories:

“The Cheeta II was a technical nightmare. Everything that could go wrong did so. We were cold, power failed frequently, water supply was irregular, and breakdowns in our gear - which had seriously suffered in its transfer - were very frequent. I did not enjoy life on the Cheeta II. It really was most unpleasant. I've never, in the whole of my professional life before or since known so many breakdowns. Even basic ship services like water and electric lighting failed for quite long periods. I've often quietly wondered whether it was deliberate or simply because everything was worn out! Apparently everything had worked perfectly when she was off Sweden earlier in January 1965. Very strange! Our relations with the Swedish crew were interesting and totally different from those with the Dutch crew on the Mi Amigo. The Dutch were generally extrovert and we had conversations with them at meal times. The Swedish crew were almost silent with no conversation at all even among themselves. I don't now if they resented out presence on board or being off England or what. One bitterly cold night we sat (or huddled) in an ornate mahogany and brass Victorian-style lounge with only a 1 kilowatt electric fire element suspended by its wires from the ceiling for both heat and light!”

After helping to set up the studio on the Cheeta II, Colin left the station. Disc-jockeys Tom Lodge, Norman St.John, Tim Yale and Tony Blackburn arrived, later joined by others such as Tony Prince, Tommy Vance and Emperor Rosko. Test transmissions started on the afternoon of 12th February 1966 with regular programmes the following day.

Tony Blackburn shares George's memories of the Cheeta II being a miserable place to work. In his autobiography, Tony Blackburn - The Living Legend (published by Comet) he wrote:

“We had to broadcast from a borrowed ship called the Cheetah II which never did work properly and most of the time we were off the air. We had no water or heating on the Cheetah II. It was the middle of winter and I was totally fed up. I was on board with Tommy Vance, as the other DJs were on shore recuperating from the shock of almost being drowned. I suggested to Tommy that he should go to London and tell our management at Caroline House how dreadful conditions were on the Cheetah II. The moment Tommy left, of course, turned out to be the one time the transmitter worked properly and I was on air non-stop for about eight hours. I fell asleep while one record was on and had to be woken up just before it ended so I could continue the show. At that time I made the classic broadcaster's mistake. I thought the ship was off air and in desperation I opened my microphone and said ‘This is Radio Bullshit’. We received a lot of letters from listeners afterwards saying how much they'd enjoyed it.” Tony was not the only one to inadvertently broadcast a swear word during this problematic period. Norman St.John: “We had many transmitter problems and, whilst in the company of Graham Webb, I believed that we had gone OFF the air again, for about the sixth time in as many minutes. At this time I said ‘Oh F***’ but it appears we were ON the air! I had many letters but all were in good spirit as things at that particular time were very difficult for Radio Caroline. I also remember distilling our own spirits by boiling Heineken Beer. I can't say we drank much of it as even though times were tough we all, to my knowledge, never broadcast whilst under the influence.”

Part Seven: The Mi Amigo returns.

Following the grounding of the Mi Amigo in January 1966, the ship was taken to Zaandam in Holland for repairs. In the meantime, Radio Caroline South programmes continued from a borrowed ship, the mv Cheeta II. While the Mi Amigo was in Holland, a brand new fifty kilowatt Continental Electronics transmitter was installed, the studios were renovated, the aerial mast extended and a new generator fitted. DJ Colin Nicol has kindly provided these pictures of the ship under repair:

At the beginning of April 1966 the newly refurbished ship was back in position, not far from the Cheeta II.With two ships at anchor, the disc-jockey team was split between them. On the 17th April, while normal programmes continued from the Cheeta II, a test broadcast went out from the Mi Amigo on 1169 kHz, 257 metres (a frequency later to be used by Caroline North). The test only lasted a few hours as the aerial short-circuited, putting the station off the air. The disc-jockeys sat around waiting for the fault to be fixed, keen to get back on the air.

 

Speaking some years later to interviewer Ray Clark, Tony Prince remembers: “There was something right at the top of the mast that had come askew and it was stopping us from broadcasting. (There was) a force 12 and we wouldn't get the tender out with the engineer on. So we were all sitting on the ship playing cards, bored like crazy, thinking what can we do. Norman St.John said ‘let's get up this bloody mast and get back on air’ and we agreed like the cavalry, ‘we can do this thing captain’ so Norman with the mouth went up first - and did about 10 rungs and came back down. It was very cold. So God bless Tony Blackburn, he had a go. He went about half way and he came back, hands freezing, so then I had a go. You put this safety harness on with a clip and I went up and I realised why Tony had come down at that point. You got to a point on the mast where the new section has been welded on. The rungs from that point were thicker and the little clip on the safety belt wouldn't clip over the rungs. So the worst part of the journey up, was the most dangerous, because you wouldn't have your safety harness. So I went a few rungs and I was like jelly, looking down at the sea and swaying from side to side, hands were freezing and I was going to drop off there any minute. I thought no, I'm not going to be a hero today and I came back down. By that time Blackburn had got his courage up again and he decided to have another go. He went all the way. I'll never know how he got the courage to do it. We often talk about it, Tony and I, but it was a very heroic thing from an anorak DJ to want the ship back on air passionately enough to do that. He climbed right to the top and got the rogue wire, let it come down. It didn't come down all the way, he was too tired to get it when he got it halfway down. Then I went back up and got the rogue wire from the point where it had got stuck again and just at that point (station boss) Ronan O'Rahilly and the engineer had come out in the tender and there was all kinds of yelling going on, telling the tender not to come along side in case it banged the ship and knocked the ‘Royal Ruler’ (me) off the mast.” (Reprinted from Offshore Echos, issue 142. Thank to Ray for permission to reprint this extract.)

 

In his autobiography, Tony Blackburn - The Living Legend, Tony Blackburn remembers the occasion, but modestly plays down just how dangerous it was. He writes: “Once when the ship ran aground Ronan offered £50 to anyone who would climb to the top of the radio mast and untangle some cabling which was fouled up. The crew wouldn't go because they said it was too dangerous and so I volunteered. Half-way up with the mast swaying and the ship looking the size of a pedalo beneath me, I told myself what a silly bastard I was. Ronan never did give me the £50 but I didn't mind his meanness because even then I had an eye for publicity and this exploit on high was recorded in the press, which encouraged more listeners to tune into my show.”  From 25th April there were two Caroline Souths on the air: the Cheeta II broadcasting on the familiar 199 metres wavelength and the Mi Amigo on a new spot on the dial - 1187 kHz, 253 metres.

Once the tests were completed and everyone was satisfied with the signal, the audience had to be persuaded to retune their radios from the familiar 199 spot on the dial to Caroline's new home, now being described on air as “259”. This was not strictly correct, any more than “199” was.

With most of the DJs and records transferred to the Mi Amigo, the newest presenter, Robbie Dale, was left on the Cheeta II with the unenviable job of continually encouraging his listeners to re-tune to the other wavelength. Then the Mi Amigo took over completely. The Cheeta II continued to relay her programmes until 1st May and then 199 was switched of. The improved Caroline South now had new jingles, a new slogan “The Sound of the Nation” and a brilliantly clear signal on 259. The team of excellent presenters assembled around the nucleus of Tom Lodge and Mike Ahern, both of whom had moved from Caroline North, got stuck into winning the audience back from Radio London. This was the beginning of a golden era for Caroline South.

Part Eight: The Fight For Free Radio

The technical upgrade and repairs to the mv Mi Amigo were expensive and a new investor was needed to help pay for them. In February 1966 Philip Solomon bought an interest in Radio Caroline. A well-known and successful show-business figure, he had made his name looking after middle-of-the-road acts such as Ruby Murray and The Bachelors, as well as more pop oriented artistes like Them and Twinkle. He was well aware of the station's influence. His singer Twinkle had enjoyed her one and only big hit Terry in 1964 thanks to airplay on Radio Caroline, the BBC having banned the track because of its subject matter - a fatal motorcycle crash. Solomon was the antithesis of Ronan O'Rahilly. The station's founder was an ideas man with very little interest in things like budgets and cash-flow. As a result, Caroline was perceived as a success but it was not generating much in the way of profit. Solomon was very much more money-minded. He tightened up systems, reduced the staff, cut costs and took control of the station playlist. He also made sure that records featuring his own artistes got plenty of exposure. Later he started a record label, Major Minor, whose releases were heavily promoted on Caroline and he also introduced a payola scheme which allowed record companies to buy slots on the station for their new releases. There had always been a certain number of paid plays but, under Solomon's scheme, new releases wouldn't be played at all unless they were paid for. Records in the charts were played for free. This scheme was widely criticised at the time, especially by the rival Radio London, although its deal with Pall Mall Music meant that the Big L Fab 40 playlist was just as susceptible to outside financial influences.

A survey carried out in July 1966 by National Opinion Polls showed that the Caroline network now had the largest audience of any of the offshore stations with 8,818,000 listeners although it only just beat the single Radio London ship which had 8,140,000.
In August 1966 Caroline South began broadcasting 24 hours a day. That same month Terry Bate and Allan Slaight, two men with experience of Canadian commercial radio, joined the station to strengthen the airtime sales department. One of their first moves was to introduce the Caroline Cash Casino competition. This was an hourly spot sponsored by Findus Foods, Galaxy Chocolate, VP Wines, Libby's Foods, Nabisco Shredded Wheat and others. Clues were given to a certain person or object, the identity of which the listeners had to guess. As more clues went out, the cash prize got bigger. It was an enormous success. Within eleven weeks of the competition, one million entries had been received; in twenty-seven weeks, 4 million. Postmen in the W1 area of London complained that they were running out of mailbags; they were all piled up in Caroline House! The disc-jockeys disliked the hourly intrusions into their programmes but no one could deny that the competition was popular - both with listeners and advertisers.
August '66 also saw the last Beatles tour of America. The group's management arranged for a number of British journalists and broadcasters to accompany the guys around the States, including Radio Caroline North's Jerry Leighton who reported for both the radio station and pop paper Disc and Music Echo. Swinging Radio England's Ron O'Quinn and Radio London's Kenny Everett went too. Kenny sent back daily phone reports but Jerry's coverage consisted of written details, sent by telex, which were read out by the DJs on both Caroline ships.

 

A Canadian broadcaster, Mick Luvzit, joined Radio Caroline during the summer of 1966. After a brief stint on Caroline South, he transferred to the north ship. There he fell in love with Janet Terrett, the sister of former Caroline DJ Ray Teret. As the romance blossomed and they began to talk of marriage, his colleague Tony Prince suggested they should have the wedding ceremony at sea - on board the Caroline ship. This unique wedding took place on 20th September 1966, performed by the ship's Captain Martin Gips. It was broadcast live on Caroline North with a commentary by station news chief Graham Webb. Unfortunately thick fog at the airport caused transport problems for some of the guests but, slightly later than planned, the ceremony went ahead.
In November 1966 Radio Caroline North began putting out night-time test broadcasts on 1169 kilohertz, 256.6 metres (referred to, of course, as “259”) and on 18th December transferred permanently to this new wavelength.

 

RADIO CAROLINE PROGRAMME SCHEDULE, JANUARY 1967.

Caroline North

weekdays

Caroline South

weekdays

6.00am The Leighton Early Show -   7.55-8.00 Voice Of Prophecy  (sponsored) -   9.00 The Big Wide Wonderful World Of Daffy Don Allen -   10.45-11.00, wed. & thurs. The Oxo Show (sponsored) -   12.00pm The Bob Stewart Show -   3.00 Mick's 3 To 6 -   6.00 Requests In Action -   6.55-7.00 Revival Time (sponsored) -   8.00 The World Tomorrow (sponsored) -   8.30 closedown (Thurs   8.30 Oral Roberts - sponsored  9.00 closedown) -   12-2am Midnight Surf Party -    6.00am Keefers' Uprising -    7.55-8.00 Voice Of Prophecy (sponsored) -   9.00 The Mike Ahern Show -   12.00pm The DLT Show -   3.00 The Tommy Vance Show -   6.00 Robbie Dale's Diary -   7.55-8.00 Revival Time (sponsored)  (Fri. 8.30-9.00 Bringing Christ To The Nation - sponsored) -   9.00 The Johnnie Walker Show -  12.00am The Steve Young Show -   3.00 The Night Owl Prowl

By late 1966 it had become apparent that the British Government was not going to allow offshore radio to flourish for much longer. Worried about Caroline's future, Ronan O'Rahilly arranged for workmen to take over the disused Roughs Tower anti-aircraft fort. Eighteen miles from Southend, and safely outside territorial waters, he spent some £15,000 converting it into a heliport and supply base for the Mi Amigo. When this story leaked to the press, O'Rahilly denied the fort was connected in any way to his plans for Caroline. He claimed he was converting the structure into a health farm and the hollow legs were to be used for growing mushrooms! Unfortunately, whatever his plans, they never came to fruition. While the fort was deserted, Roy Bates, the former owner of Radio Essex, moved in. He and his men claimed squatters rights and set up defences. Repeatedly O'Rahilly's team tried to retake the fort but they were fought off and were eventually forced to surrender Roughs Tower. Mr Bates went on to establish Sealand on the fort - his own independent country.

 

As the Marine Offences Bill made its inexorable way through Parliament, Caroline and the other offshore stations campaigned vigorously against it, on air and off. In April 1967 elections took place for the Greater London Council and both Radios Caroline South and London ran strongly worded promotions, urging listeners to find out the candidates' views on free radio and to vote accordingly. A poll was mentioned on both stations revealing that only 20% of Labour candidates were in favour of commercial radio, while 82% of the Liberals and 97% of the Conservatives supported it. Although the stations did not go as far as to shout “vote Conservative”, they came fairly close. Labour had been in power in the capital since 1934 (with the London County Council until 1965, then the Greater London Council since then) but this time the Tories won.

Despite the campaigning - and the support of millions of listeners - the Marine Offences Act was passed into law. All the other stations announced that they would close but Ronan O'Rahilly made it very clear that, whatever happened, the two Radio Caroline ships would continue broadcasting. It was announced that there were would be a Dutch service launched to operate from the South ship and a serial was rumoured: The Private Life of Harold Wilson (the then Prime Minister). Neither materialised. Sales representatives were appointed in Paris, Toronto, New York and Amsterdam and an office was opened in Holland. Caroline House closed down. The new law only applied to British subjects so Ronan O'Rahilly and Philip Solomon, both Irish citizens, were immune and continued to operate from London.

 

The Act took effect on mainland Britain on 15th August 1967. One by one the other stations closed down. Only Radio Caroline continued. At midnight on 14th August a massive audience tuned into Caroline South as disc-jockeys Robbie Dale and Johnnie Walker challenged the government and welcomed the listeners to a new era - that of “Radio Caroline International”. With the new legislation to contend with, most of their fellow disc-jockeys had decided to leave but joining the two senior presenters in their defiance were Australian newsreader Ross Brown and a radio novice who initially used the name Chris Anthony. Within days he had become Spangles Muldoon. Roger Day, who had joined the station the previous month but had to leave briefly to renew his passport, returned and former Radio Scotland man Stevi Merike also came aboard. With no offshore competition and, as yet, no BBC pop service, the audience soared.
There was a major change of broadcasting staff on Radio Caroline North too. Canadian Don Allen was unaffected by the new law but most of his colleagues left on 14th August. They were replaced by new presenters such as Martin Kayne and Mark Sloane who had both been left unemployed by the closure of Radio 355. Because the act was still not law on the Isle of Man, there was nothing to stop a promotional football match taking place that month on the island between a team representing Caroline and one from St. Helens GPO! The members of the Isle of Man Parliament, The Tynwald, had vehemently opposed the Marine Offences Bill but, on 1st September, despite their protestations, the new law was extended to cover the island by an Order in Council. Just off the coast, Radio Caroline North continued.

 

The two Carolines carried on broadcasting and, from the end of September, faced competition from the BBC's new Radio One. Caroline appeared to be prospering and carrying a lot of commercials but what the listeners did not know was that most of these were either American radio adverts, tapes left over from old campaigns, favours for friends or simply audio recorded off the TV. Among the products promoted were Alkokill breath freshener, Aqua-Net hairspray, Aqua-Velva deodorant, The Big C Club, British Olympic Committee, Bulova watches, Cadbury's biscuits, Carnaby Card, Caroline Cars, Chiselhurst Caves, Coca-Cola, Consulate cigarettes, Crown Cup coffee, Daily Sketch, Deram Records, Derek Gardiner cameras, The Dolphin Bar, Du Maurier cigarettes, Emerald Records, Evette cosmetics, Ford, Golden Wonder, Horlicks, Irish Sweep Stakes, Jelly Tots, Kent Messenger, Kit-Kat, Kraft Corn Oil margarine, Macleans toothpaste, Major Minor Records, Milk Marketing Board, Milroy Ward cars, Old Spice deodorant, Oz magazine, Pepsi-Cola, Pernauld, Peter Stuyvesant cigarettes, Queens Bar discotheque, Rothman's cigarettes, Salem cigarettes, Schick razor blades, Seven-Up, Spangles, Sphere Books, Tipavana cigars, Twiglets, Volkswagen cars and Winston cigarettes. Some companies complained about their advertisements being aired on Caroline. The station began to depend more and more on payola, the playing of certain records for a fee. This had always been done to a certain extent but now the programmes seriously began to suffer. The sheer number of paid-plays, especially those for Philip Solomon's Major Minor label, could sometimes dominate the programming.
Whereas previously the ships had received a number of tenders every week, now the servicing (from Holland and Ireland, for the South and North ships respectively) became irregular. The DJs felt very cut off and, with no mail or newspapers, the programmes began to suffer. Less frequent tenders also meant that there was a lack of new releases reaching the ships. Even the station's biggest fans had to admit that, despite the efforts of the talented broadcasters, Radio Caroline wasn't sounding quite as good as it used to.
As Caroline moved into 1968 the disc-jockeys tried to sound enthusiastic but the station's future was anything but secure.

Part Nine: Towed away, March 1968

Although the two Caroline ships were continuing to broadcast, behind the scenes, it was a tough time. The isolated DJs had to endure long stints at sea and dreadful tender journeys when they did finally get some leave. And, for the bosses, the financial situation was proving difficult.

With the ships being supplied and crewed from Holland, the station's money problems were exacerbated when the UK devalued the pound in November 1967. With only a limited income, bills weren't paid on time and, as the months passed, a substantial debt built up with the Wijsmuller tug and salvage company. This firm was responsible for crewing and servicing the two radio ships and, as the money owed reached £70,000, one of the Wijsmuller brothers decided that enough was enough. In an effort to get his money, he ordered his men to impound the two Caroline vessels.

 

On March 2nd 1968 Caroline North's programming finished, as usual on a Saturday, with “Daffy” Don Allen's Country & Western Jamboree. Soon after the station closed for the night the ship was boarded by men working for Wijsmuller. Caroline North never returned to the air.
On the mv Mi Amigo, the crew of Caroline South were unaware of the happenings on their sister ship. Their station closed down as normal at 2am on 3rd March with Andy Archer playing Cinderella Rockefella by Esther & Abi Ofarim as his last record. The Sunday morning programmes commenced with non-stop music three hours later. As Roger Day was preparing to kick off his Breakfast Show at 5.30, a similar boarding party intervened. The station was silenced before he could say a single word on air. The studios were locked, the anchor chains cut and the two broadcasting ships were towed away by the tugs Utrecht and Titan. Radio Caroline was gone. There was silence on 259. And the listeners were totally in the dark about what had happened to their favourite radio station. There was additional confusion because Caroline South had previously announced that the station would be off the air on Monday 4th for generator repairs.

 

The Caroline North ship was towed by the Wijsmuller tug Utrecht and the South ship by the Titan but correspondent John Thomas wrote to The Pirate Radio Hall of Fame to query this. He wrote: “As you know for many years every description of the Wijsmuller tugs towing the Carolines away in March 1968 state Titan for Mi Amigo and Utrecht for Fredericia. Logical as Utrecht was a much larger and more powerful tug than Titan (about 3500 horse power against about 1200).” John went on to say “Maybe the towing started with the tugs as described but I think it is unlikely that the company would send another tug to swap over the towing part way through a voyage.” In fact it seems that is exactly what did happen. As can be seen from the diary written by Caroline North's last DJ, Roger Scott, the Titan (in fact he called it the Titanic!) took over the towing part way through the journey. This is confirmed by the Bureau Wijsmuller website's history of the Titan.The Fredericia under tow. Both pictures from Skyphotos, courtesy of John Thomas.Part of the same photo with a magnified view of the tug to show its name, Titan.The ships were taken to Holland and there they stayed. The station's management demanded their return. Wijsmuller demanded its money. Neither side was prepared to back down. It was stalemate - and Caroline remained silent. It was the end for Radio Caroline - in the sixties.