I’m not for the moment suggesting any correlation between fresh-faced Macchio and a reasonably grizzled veteran guitarist like Ric Montgomery, but the contrast between players was the same - Bailey going all-out with the facial expressions to match, a stone-faced Montgomery matching and topping each effort.
When I saw Crossroads close to twenty years later I was able to say that’s the kind of thing I was talking about to anybody I’d described the earlier incident to.
Ah, memories...
Of course, that scene was never likely to last long.
Much of my nostalgia about Underworld was based on the fact that for the whole of 1971 I was living in a residential college out at the University while I finished my course at Teachers’ College and, once income tax had been deducted from my fortnightly scholarship cheque, I was six cents short when it came to paying the board and lodging.
That fact alone would explain the attraction of a no cost source of entertainment.
If there was nothing much happening at Underworld, a quick walk down Carmody Street got you to the flat occupied by Jim, his sister Brenda and my mate Bob.
As it transpired, on Christmas Eve 1971 Cyclone Althea demolished the hall, along with many other buildings around the city, and today the site is occupied by the Raintree Motel.
Even if Althea hadn’t arrived I suspect Underworld’s days would have been numbered, but we’ll never know for sure.
As it was, once I was getting a regular pay cheque I was able to start accumulating vinyl, building up a substantial collection, much of which still sits in the living room. Notable purchases at the time included the first copy of Roxy Music’s debut album sold in Townsville, Bowie’s Hunky Dory and a German import compilation sourced from the early Velvet Underground albums.
One by one, the Underworld participants either left town or dropped out of circulation. Without a venue there wasn’t the same opportunity to run across new faces with similar interests. Meanwhile, around the corner, fate was slipping the lead into the boxing glove and around my twenty-first birthday the principal turned up on my classroom doorstep with a sheaf of papers.
You may need to hold on to the railing, I was told. You’ve been transferred to Palm Island.