When, in June 1962, the management at London's Adelphi Theatre dropped a couple of cello players only two weeks into a successful West End run, Don Smith was aggrieved. "We opened to terrific reviews and we were playing to full houses every night," the Canadian-born Musicians' Union official recalls.

The title of the show was the "The Music Man" and it seemed ironic to the young trumpet player in the orchestra pit that while the production's big hit number was entitled "Seventy-six-trombones" the management was cutting the size of the band.

"It seemed totally unfair to me," says Smith, "that the orchestra of a certain size should be engaged just to get through the opening night, when the critics were present, and then, when the show was on a successful course, the number of players should be reduced."

He approached the band steward, who agreed that the dismissal action was tough, but said there was nothing in their current agreement to prevent it. Despite this rebuff, Smith would not let the issue drop. "I was like a dog with a bone," he admits.

He rounded up half a dozen colleagues to attend the next meeting of their union branch. "I'd never been to a union meeting in my life, he says. The newcomers knew nothing of procedure and kept interrupting branch business. They were told politely that if they would only wait their turn they would be given an opportunity to air their grievance.

In the event, branch officers could only reiterate what the band steward had explained about there being nothing to be done about the situation under current rules. They gave an assurance, however, that the next time they met the theatre managers, the issue would be raised.

The Union representatives were as good as their word and a clause was negotiated to ensure that the size of an orchestra cannot be reduced after opening night. That ruling still stands today. Thus Don Smith's first blow for musicians' rights was made long before he joined the union staff. For the fledgling union activist the whole incident served as an example of the democratic way in which the union operates.

"I have many fond memories of playing, but I never regretted the change to Union Official"

The quietly spoken native of Montreal moved to Britain and joined the Union "as every musician should," back in 1955. "London was then, and is still the musical capital of the world," he said by way of explanation for his migration. Almost 40 years on, the 60 year old retains a vestige of his Canadian accent and all his enthusiasm for the MU.

When "The Music Man" closed, Smith's next show was "Half a Sixpence". Here, he was joined in the orchestra pit by several colleagues from the Adelphi. At the first rehearsal, when it came to electing a band steward, he found himself railroaded into the job. "From then on, I don't think I did a show where I wasn't the steward" he recalls.

After a while colleagues encouraged him to stand for a place on the Central London branch committee and then the union's district council. It was in 1969 that he learnt of an impending vacancy following the retirement of his branch organiser. "At the very last minute I thought it was something I would enjoy doing and I submitted my application on the last possible day. I had an interview a fortnight later and was appointed soon afterwards".

The fortnight between being selected and working out his notice he remembers as the most anguished of his life. "I was wondering whether I had cut off both my legs," he recalls. The problem was that as a Union official he would have to give up playing his beloved trumpet professionally. "If it had been possible to be an official and continue playing, that would have been the best of all possible worlds."

Happily, he has never looked back. "I had many fond memories of playing, but I never regretted the change," he explains.

It was not long before the newcomer realised that studio musicians needed special Union support. For example, early on "I found there were problems between them and a particular contractor over repeat fees." Smith's sense of fair play was affronted as it had been over the "Music Man" incident.

"I just dug away and built up a huge file of correspondence," he says. As a result of his investigations £25,000 of back fees were paid to the musicians in question Ð this was back in 1971. In 1991 he was dealing with another contractor over a similar case and this time the disputed sum was £100,000, which proved for him that despite the inflationary spiral, there is nothing new under the sun.

Don's inquiries in the Seventies convinced the union's executive committee that the sums of money involved made it necessary for the appointment of an official whose sole job it would be to look after studio musicians. Don was the obvious choice.

He was speaking now to Morgensterns in the boardroom of the 37,000-member union's substantial Kennington headquarters. He finds that he spends about half his working week at the desk there and the rest of the road. "The important part of the job is keeping in touch with musicians," he explains. "So going around the studios and being among them is vital."

From week to week, Smith knows what work is available and so can drop in on members. "They know that sooner of later they'll bump into me, so if they've got something that is worrying them they tend to store it up rather than phone here."

Ever since the advent of the first recording equipment made it possible for musicians' performance to be captured and recycled in various ways, the pace of change has been relentless. "The escalation of technology has changed the music profession," Smith points out. Ensuring that his members do not lose out financially in this on-going process is a full-time job.

The first and probably greatest blow to the livelihoods of musicians was struck before the veteran union official was born. It was the advent of talking pictures that put thousands of instrumentalists out of work in the late Twenties. "Up till that point every cinema had employed musicians."

There remain a few MU members still able to regale Don with their memories of accompanying the old silent movies. "People used to cross London to see a silent film at one particular Acton cinema because of the quality of the orchestra there." Then the talkies abolished thousands of jobs at a stroke.

Undoubtedly, the biggest technological innovation during Smith's tenure of office has been the advent of the synthesiser in the 1970's. For a decade electronic sounds in the studios became fashionable, and reduced the amount of work available for once busy session musicians. But fortunately fashions can change, and it was with relief that Don was able to report that "in March 91 Variety reported the American Federation of Musicians survey of film and TV advertising which found that 95% of sound tracks used acoustic instruments."

Changes in public taste too, can put jobs in jeopardy. Twenty years ago, the centrepiece of primetime television each night of the week would have been a one-hour entertainment show Ð with a 30-piece orchestra Ð and fronted by a star such as Cilla Black or Cliff Richard.

During the seventies such shows were replaced by situation comedy series or dramas. "The only programme of that nature I can think of now is the Des O'Connor Show," the union official says. Thanks to this development, once again the jobs of many musicians have disappeared.

Not that changes in public taste always spell disaster. For example, it is not so long since a two-handed drama would fill any theatre. Now the West End is awash with musicals and suddenly an new avenue of employment opens up once again MU members. TV commercials can also provide employment for large numbers of musicians, "remember the recent Crown Paint advert which used, if I remember correctly, over 100 musicians who changed colour to demonstrate the quality of the paint!"

With the advance of technology Don's eagle eye is always on the look out for new areas of the business where musicians need representation as, for example, with promotional Videos. A few years ago, he recalled, the organisers of the launch of a new car decided that the proceedings would be enlivened by the presence of an orchestras playing for its invited guests. What they didn't mention to the musicians at the time was that the whole event was to be taped for showing on videos in car showrooms throughout the country. Queue Don Smith, who was called in to meet a surprised car manufacturer management to negotiate repeat fees for the musicians involved.

Now when you next visit the local branch of your bank to find a video extolling the virtues of the organisation, rest assured Don has made sure that the bank balances of MU members playing on the backing track are benefiting.

Don's activities are just one example of why the Musicians' Union today is avoiding the obloquy that has befallen many other unions. "Perhaps it's also because the MU is an inclusive, rather than an exclusive organisation.

Alan Road

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