CHAPTER FOUR: Sailing Around the British Coast.

     July 3rd 1964 was warm and sunny. That day was exhilarating. I had woken and looked out the porthole and there was the coast of Kent and then the White Cliffs of Dover. We were on the move. It was 5.30 a.m. and just in time for me to go on the air. I had no idea where we were sailing to. The only person who knew was our Dutch captain. He had been given sealed orders. The whole concept was exciting. Every moment was an adventure. Now it was time for me to go on the air and play music.
     In the studio, I hit the button on the cartridge tape player and out came Rinky Dink by the Johnny Howard Band, my theme tune. “Good morning to you” I said on the air “This is Tom Lodge with a beautiful Caroline morning and some music for you to march around the breakfast table to, while we sail around the coast of England. Here's a great sound from the Animals with their new release The House of the Rising Sun.” Alan Price's organ sang across the airwaves followed by the voice of Eric Burdon. “There is a house in New Orleans...”

m.v. Fredericia

     We were off and sailing. It was a Saturday, a ‘let's go to the seaside day’. A day when there would be thousands of people all along the English coast, an opportunity to connect with a whole new audience as they sunbathed and swam, and we played the most popular music.
     After I had been on the air for two hours, Jerry Leighton came down and took over. We were the only deejays on board so we had agreed to do two hours on the air and two hours off. I went out on deck to stretch. I could see we were approaching Beachy Head and I wanted to get a closer look. On the bridge I scanned the shoreline with a pair of binoculars. “Oh my God!” I shouted. For there on Beachy Head were crowds of people. I mean it was covered with people. Something was happening on shore. People had come to see us sail by. I went rushing down to the studio.
     “Jerry!” I said “There are thousands of people watching us sail by!” I scrambled back up the ladders to the bridge, grabbed a mirror and began flashing the sun onto the shore. This was more than I had ever dreamed of.
     When it was my turn to go back on the air, I said “Those of you girls on the beach listening to Radio Caroline, take your mirror out of your purse and reflect the sun at us, reflect it onto Radio Caroline so that we can see you. You can't miss us, we're the ship with the big, big mast.”
     Suddenly it happened. The coastline lit up with flashing lights. The whole coastline was sparkling. This went on all day, all along the coast. We kept reminding our listeners that we were the ship with the big, big mast. And as the sun gently moved down into the west, people began flashing car headlights. We flashed lights back and spoke to them on the air and played hits like Lulu's Shout, The Mojos' Everything's Alright and the number one hit of the day You're My World by Cilla Black.
     That evening our captain, Captain Hangerfelt, came into the studio. We put him on the air and with his strong Dutch accent, he dissolved the mystery of our destination. He announced that we were heading for the Isle of Man and were going to drop anchor in Ramsey Bay.
     The next morning we were off the north coast of Cornwall and Devon. Again it was a clear, blue, gentle, welcoming sea. It had been dark when we rounded Land's End but now with the sun again we were ready to draw attention to ourselves. On the air I said “It's Sunday morning and I sure miss breakfast in bed and reading the Sunday papers. But in the meantime here's a movin' Chuck Berry song, No Particular Place To Go.
     Then within twenty minutes of those words “...reading the Sunday papers” a speed boat rushed out from the coast, came alongside Caroline, and threw a bundle of newspapers onto our deck. The immediate response was exciting. In all my years in radio I had never experienced such a close connection with the audience.

Jerry Leighton

     As we sailed round Wales, a calm settled over us. The coast was no longer responding with lights or boats or mirrors. This coastline was sparsely populated. In my on-air radio talk, I dropped in three or four Welsh words that my mother had taught me. Many years later I met a Welsh farmer who had been listening and enjoyed my badly pronounced Welsh. Our ship moved smoothly through the water. There was a fullness in the air, a relaxation, a contentment. It felt good.
     “This is a mellow time” I said. “And here is some music to support this calm feeling. It's the B-side of the record. It should have been the A-side. I'm dedicating it to all the listeners who can receive us across the mountains of Wales. Here's the Four Seasons and Silence is Golden. The night came down and the music we were playing felt all pervasive. It was like the dark was enclosing the sounds and making them more intense.
     The next day we arrived at the Isle of Man. “Hello Isle of Man” I said on the air. “This is Tom Lodge. If you're listening to Radio Caroline, we'd like you to use your mirrors to reflect the sun onto our ship, so we can see you! Or if you don't have a mirror handy, flash your car head lights.”
     Nothing happened. We tried everything. Nothing happened. No response. “Hey, Jerry” I said “What's going on? Nobody's responding.”
Jerry was just as mystified. “I don't know.” he said.
“Something must be wrong” I said. “Maybe we're not welcome here.”

©Tom Lodge 2002