How did your childhood influence your attitude to money?
I was a post-war baby born in 1949 living in a little two-up, two-down on the outskirts of London. I loved it to bits. My parents Cyril and Mildred didn’t have any money and it was tough times. My dad started work at Nicholls and Clarke, a huge building suppliers company aged 14 as an office boy and ended up on the board of directors. He literally went through every department, did everything and was a hard worker.
Mum worked for a removal firm, Curtis and Sons, and I realised many years later, they did all this extra work to put me through my piano lessons and their encouragement was unbelievable. My dad died in 1980 and I found out afterwards from mum that my piano lessons, which cost £2 a week, took up nearly a third of his income.
What was your very first job and how much did it pay?
I worked on the removal lorry for £5 a week when I was 16. Back then I was very tall, 6ft 3in and very thin and I got on great with the guys who were very funny. When you got off the back of the lorry, you’d arch your back and they’d put something on your back to take in. On my very first job, I arched my back and they put a fridge on top and left me there an hour!
Then when I was 18, I worked for my dad’s friend Mr Smith, after he promised my dad he’d find me something to do. I turned up at his office in Chancery Lane, he gave me a massive box of paper clips and said: “I want you to put 50 paper clips in each brown envelope.” I did it for a week and as I left, I saw someone else pour them back into this huge box. My other job was to walk to the bookies, place his £1 bet and collect his winnings later. He always won and at the end of my first week, he paid me a fiver so I copied his bet and lost the lot. I returned crestfallen and Mr Smith said: “Well Richard, I’m guessing you’ve got no wages left. Don’t be a gambler son.” It was a lesson and I’ve not gambled since.
Has there ever been a time when you worried how you were going to pay the bills?
Yes, there have always been times like that. In the late Sixties, when I played at the Top Rank ballroom, being an organist meant carting my organ around to sessions, which cost two thirds of my earnings, on top of running a car, which was when I learnt the word “expenses”.
My rent cost £8 a week and I can remember being really short. In 1970, I was up in London looking for session work and Marc Bolan who was a great mate, gave me a session for Get It On. All I had to do was a glissando on the piano. I said to him afterwards, “You could have done that,” and he replied, “Well, you want your rent money don’t you?” Tough times, but when I joined Yes, I went from £18 a week to £50 a week.
RICK WAKEMAN AT GONZO
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