First, I was seen sitting outside Ena Sharples' doorway, playing marbles. In the next episode they had me running up and down the street, and then delivering newspapers. Finally, I was cast as Len Fairclough's son. It's funny about that. The story had me causing trouble for Kenneth Barlow, my teacher at school, and the incident was a "talking point" in 'Coronation Street,' for weeks to come. I was on the screen just once as Stanley Fairclough - yet people still talk to me about being Len Fairclough's son! I'm sorry to have to tell you that at my real school at Stretford I was doing very badly indeed. I took no interest at all in the lessons, and my name was called out regularly at morning assembly to report to the headmaster. I was fourteen, thinking of girls most of the time - and getting very clothes-conscious, too. I had to have all the right gear - tight blue jeans, the lot. I stowed them away, out of sight, in our garage, and every night crawled on all fours to the hiding place so that my parents wouldn't see me - to dress up to go out. Just before Christmas, 1962, we had a new group playing at our youth club, The Flixton Institute's party and everyone there had to get up on the stage and sing. I was a bit embarrassed and didn't really want to, but they pushed me up in front of the group. I sang the only song I knew - I'll Never Dance Again (it's now on our L.P.!) Well, it seems that soon afterwards the group split up - two of the boys took off in one direction and the remaining three went another way. As it turned out, their way was my way because in early 1963 they asked me to join them as singer. We called ourselves Pete Novak and The Heartbeats. We practised, learned eight numbers, and were given our first booking at an Urmston Football Club social evening where we had to play for two hours for a fee of £4 10s. No matter how you look at it, eight numbers don't go far in two hours - so we had to do them over and over again. To make it less obvious the boys played some instrumentals in between. |
Then we started to learn Beatles' numbers and about six months after we formed - and the fees had risen to the £10 mark - we were playing at the Hertford Youth Club, near my home in Davyhulme, when our manager Harvey Lisberg walked in and "discovered" us. We were looking fairly respectable by this time. I was dressed in a navy-gold lamé suit and the boys wore leather waistcoats - and Harvey promised to get us £15 a night. He started us working in teenage clubs in Manchester, and then we began playing in places round about. We travelled south for the first time when a London agent spotted us and arranged a recording test with E.M.I. - who release our records now, of course. But we failed the test. We were so bad. Honestly. We were told we ought to go back to Manchester and get ourselves jobs before we wasted away our lives. We tried other recording companies, but they told us much the same thing. So we did go back to Manchester - to practise all the harder. Then the line-up of the group changed when three of the boys went, leaving Karl and I who were joined by Keith Hopwood, drummer Barry Whitwam and Derek "Lek" Leckenby, which is the group as it is today. We had changed our name to Herman's Hermits. Herman? The boys thought I looked like a boy called Sherman in a television cartoon programme called 'The Bullwinkle Show.' Sherman became Herman and "Hermits" followed on naturally. Our work improved, but we weren't making the grade. Then things improved a little - but only a little - when Harvey persuaded independent record producer Mickie Most to listen to us. Mickie listened all right, but told us we would have to improve still more before he would record us. We worked all the harder, and Mickie listened to us once again. We were playing at The Beachcomber, in Bolton, and by now had built up a really big fan following. So Mickie agreed to record us. It was July, 1964, and we were lucky enough to hit the heights with I'm Into Something Good. And we were off. When we're not working, the boys and I usually stay together. In London our "home" is a hotel not far from the Edgware Road. We're used to the people there, and they're used to us, so it suits us fine. Nowadays, of course, I spend a lot of time travelling - and don't really enjoy that much at all. It's true, we see lots of exciting new places and all that sort of thing, but it's the travelling in between that gets me down. While we're air-borne, or car-borne, or train-borne, I sleep. Or read. I'm a James Bond fan, and I've read every one of the Bond books. Now I'm on Mickey Spillane. I like swimming, too, whenever I get the chance. I'm a real sleep addict, incidentally. I don't normally go to bed early - and I hate getting up early. It's not the easiest thing to wake me up, either! The boys swear that a bomb going off in the next room wouldn't do it. And when I do eventually wake up it takes me quite a while to "surface." For a time I'm a different person, not Peter Noone at all. I suppose it's only natural that I miss some of the comforts of home during all this travelling. Probably one of the biggest "misses" as far as I'm concerned is Mum's cooking. I know I'm not the first to say it, but it happens to be true. I've tried cooking myself, but maybe it's better not to go into that one too closely! Let's just say my efforts have never been a tremendous success. I like steaks as much as anything. And Mum cooks them just right! Another of my "likes" is clothes - smart suits and "casuals." Talking of clothes, I often lose the odd sock, tie or jacket after "raids" on our dressing room by fans. But it's all in the game and I don't mind. Girl friend? No, there's no particular girl friend. Just girl friends. So far. You know, quite early on in our recording career we were asked what our ambitions were. We all said we wanted a hit record, to go to America - and to meet Elvis. Well, all those wishes have come true for us, and we're grateful that Lady Luck has smiled on us the way she has. But anything we've been able to achieve would not have been possible without a host of good friends to all of whom we say a sincere: "thank you." Whatever happened, then, to all those dreams I told you about last week? Peter Noone, Big Harley Street Specialist? Or Peter Noone, Big Television Actor? All forgotten, but never mind, the world will just have to struggle along without them. My life story, then. The end. So far. |
Proud Mum poses with her son, Peter. She's still as proud of him today
Recognise him? It's Herman, disguised for his part in "Saki" on TV. July, 1962.
The first public appearance of Herman's Hermits. The gear isn't Carnaby Street and Herman admits that the group wasn't at that time, the greatest thing to grace a dance hall. But the talent was there. It just needed to be worked on. So they worked on it.