The
music was played in Soho shebeens which attracted black American servicemen,
and Britishers who found palliatives for the bombing in a more exotic range of
preparations than were to be found in the public houses. The squad found between 200
and 250 people on the premises at 50 Carnaby Street. The crowd was mixed in sex
and race; most of the individuals were aged between seventeen and thirty. Many jettisoned
the goods in time. There must have been a small fortune lying around the floor.
A lot of cats were arrested and the cloakroom was full of unwanted coats,
pockets bulging with hemp. But here’s the real giggle. Someone had unloaded a
slab of hashish on a shelf in the kitchen. The law picked it up and looked at
it but thought it must be some kind of meat extract. So the man got his hash
back. Ronnie Scott was less fortunate. Playing a Charlie Parker tune with his
eyes shut, he received a rude shock on opening them to find his field of vision
almost blocked by a large uniformed sergeant. He had to leave it to the law to
remove the cocaine from his wallet.
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