THE STORY OF JEFF
CHRISTIE in his own words
Part ONE
"I WAS BORN IN NORTHERN ENGLAND ..."
"I WAS born July 12, 1946, in St Martins
Rd, Leeds 7.
My older brother, Lester, always kept
an eye on me and helped me stay out of trouble. I used to
follow him around and used to get on his nerves a lot Im
sure. We were very different, he was always more steady and
controlled and stayed out of trouble whereas I was a loose
cannon ready to explode at any moment. I looked up to him
although we often clashed as small kids. We would become much
closer in our 20s and remain so today.
Two other brothers, Robin and Mark, were
to arrive several years later, to make us into what I hoped
would soon become my own football team! It took me some time
to get over the disappointment of the fact that it wasnt
going to happen!
I was creative and rebellious with a
fertile imagination, and fell under musics magical spell
at four or five years. My parents would take the two of us
to Roundhay Park and my mum would tell me in later years they
couldnt drag me away from the bandstands on the Victorian
Follies where there were always brass bands playing, I was
mesmerized!
My dad was an entrepreneurial spirit
who set up one of the first, if not the first, greetings cards
businesses after the war. He was away much and was often crossing
the Pennines to Lancashire selling direct to shops. He was
a mans man with a work ethic and strong principles and
a twinkle in his eye that could charm anyone at 10 paces.
He was well liked and respected and considered good looking
with an easy laid-back personality that belied a tough side
when crossed, as I often found out in my rebellious youth!
I was in awe of him, a little scared,
but felt safe, secure, protected and loved which probably
is just about as good as it gets. A good role model for any
kid.
He was a gentleman.
Jeff Christie with father
Michael, brother Mark and mother Tony
Jeff and brother Robin
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My mother was a trained ballet dancer who
during the war toured the country with dance troupes, often
soloing, performing to audiences and servicemen on leave and
who along with the other dancers often kept dancing when the
bombs were falling and the Nasties were still blasting, to
keep up morale. She would tell me amazing stories of her experiences
and near misses when I was old enough to understand.
She gave up her dancing career not long
after she met my dad to marry and raise a family. My mother
whilst on tour was always looking for digs in Leeds, Darlington,
or wherever, when she knocked on my dads door to ask
about digs in Leeds. It was love at first knife as my dad
opened the door in the middle of carving the Sunday joint
and boom, out went the lights for both of em!
She was proud of my success and did some
work liaising with my fans. Her favourite song was Until
The Dawn.
They lived happily ever
after until my dad died in 1975. My mum was heartbroken and
carried on as best as possible with all her family around
her to love and support her, which by now was four sons and
her extended family of grandchildren until she succumbed to
cancer in 1993.
She was strong, beautiful and elegant
and not frightened or intimidated by anyone. She taught us
much about courage and dignity.
She was a lady.
Friends and family
are important to Jeff.
I married in 1978, divorced 1983,
and have no kids. I also have one uncle in Guernsey and an
aunt in San Francisco. I have three nieces and a great nephew
and great niece.
School was mostly fun in that
I never took it seriously and its where I developed
my survival skills in the playground and how to neutralise
bullies eventually by showing no fear when standing up to
and indeed challenging masters in the most robust way!
I do remember having a childhood crush
on Mrs James, one our teachers who seemed to epitomise grace
and classic beauty as she led the class in her quivering soprano
with heaving bosom in a rendition of Blow
the Wind Southerly; many a knee quivered under
the owner's desk in sympathy also! "
A newspaper article
on Jeff and brother Mark. (click on it for a larger version)
By the time I was 13, I knew
I wanted to somehow earn a living as a musician; it
would be just the coolest thing I thought, and I was
starting to get tired and bored of piano lessons when
I heard Elvis Presley's Heartbreak Hotel on the
radio, and the sound and the singer just sounded so
exciting. Rock'n'roll had arrived and the excitement
of what I felt listening to it reminded me of how I
felt when I first heard flamenco, so I nagged my dad
for a cheap Spanish guitar and took to it like a duck
to water, improving quickly and formed a group and within
a couple of years, started playing small gigs and progressing
nicely until we were good enough to try to get a record
contract. But we were playing other people's songs as
were most bands that didn't have a contract. It was
now in the mid-sixties and I remember a guy once told
me "you're not going to get a record contract by
playing other people's songs, you've got to write your
own songs".
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Part
Two
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