Jimmy Cliff, me and ‘The Harder They Come’

I met Jimmy Cliff in 1964 when he first stepped foot onto English soil. I had some Jamaican friends Carl and ‘Pepsi’ who had been given the job of meeting him at the airport, and they asked me to accompany them. I remember Jimmy being very surprised when he saw that his accommodation was in a basement flat. He, like most Jamaicans, had no idea humans could live underground, but we were lucky to find one such flat available for rent to a black person.

Anti-black racism followed us through our lives in England. Jimmy, who had been a recognised musical artiste in Jamaica before leaving, was angry and annoyed each time it happened to him.

Chris Blackwell had started his Island Records company in a building in the Ladbroke Gove neighbourhood near Portobello Road and tried to sell Jimmy and his music to rock audiences. But, failing to achieve this, Jimmy set off to Europe and toured clubs, releasing the début album Hard Road to Travel, in 1967. The singles Wonderful World, Beautiful People and Vietnam both became popular around the world.

In 1969, Jimmy released Many Rivers to Cross about his struggles with both the music industry and the racism he encountered in England. These hits brought Jimmy to the attention of Jamaican filmmaker Perry Henzell, who was looking for someone to star in the feature film he was making. Asking his friend Blackwell for soundtrack music to provide an authentic frame for the story, Jimmy’s album cover attracted Henzell’s attention as well as his song The Harder They Come. As Jimmy tells the story, he knew he could sing the film’s songs, but, although he didn’t know if he could act the lead role, he reasoned “I couldn’t say no, could I?”

I had been working for three years as an executive with the London company that handed the PR for the Jamaican Government and Tourist Board, Needing a change, I accepted a job as a reporter/ journalist on a daily London TV programme, not knowing that I would make history as the first black person to appear on British TV screens in such a job. The racism that greeted my daily appearances led the TV company to decide not to extend my contract when it ended. My agent got me a similar job in Birmingham, but the racism was even worse there.

My next job was as a trainee producer on the BBC’s leading weekly current affairs programme and, after a few months, I was assigned as production assistant of a one-hour documentary on the Cannes Film Festival. The prestige of such an assignment was soured by the same racism I realised was never far away. I returned to London wondering whether to stay on the job or look for something else ,and then Chris Blackwell called with surprising news that Perry Henzell had made Jamaica’s first feature film and they wanted me to be the film’s public relations officer. I agreed to view the film to see if it was something worth aligning my reputation with.

As I sat in a darkened Island Records office watching the film, I was totally stunned at what I saw. The film showed me a Jamaica I had never seen in my life growing up in middle-class Jamaica. I had never seen life from a Rasta perspective. Here was the Jamaica behind the zinc fences and garbage dump heaps, the Jamaica where a ganja spliff could lead to a death sentence from a corrupt cop. I knew nothing about the ganja industry and the culture that supported it.

Did I want this job? To entice me, Blackwell told me he had already booked a private jet to fly me, Henzell and producer Pat Rousseau to Venice, home of the world’s second most important film festival. After that, we were booked to fly to Cork, Ireland, for that city’s festival. I would be working with friends and Jamaicans. I had known Perry Henzell’s wife, Sally, from we were nine-year-old students at boarding school in St. Elizabeth. I would be seeing Jimmy again. He had done a great job acting and singing in the film. Of course I would take the job.

It was wonderful to be in Venice for the film festival. The film was not a main feature of the festival, but made such an impact in a side-viewing cinema that the sound track received an award. In Cork, Ireland, Perry was so uncomfortable with the silence in which the audience watched the film that he left the cinema until it ended. Afterwards, he was pleasantly surprised to have people crowding around and congratulating him.

I organised a press screening at a small cinema and invited about 30 journalists, Only two came, one of whom was the most respected film reviewer, George Melly, who began his article “ Far and away the best film of the week was the first ever Jamaican film, The Harder They Come.” My phone never stopped ringing after that, with people asking to see the film.

I arranged for Jimmy to have a double-page centre-spread interview in the London Evening News, the first for a Jamaican artiste and The Harder They Come started to rise on the BBC Top Ten. Blackwell tried to get Jimmy to renew his Island Records contract, but Jimmy signed with Columbia Records instead.

We opened the film in London at the Brixton cinema to a full house of mostly Jamaicans. Leaving London, we headed to Jamaica, where the première was held on June 5, 1972 at the Carib Cinema in Kingston. I remember the date because it was my birthday. Traffic on all roads into Cross Roads was blocked the night of the première, as thousands of people pushed and squeezed themselves inside, sitting three to a seat. I had to be content to listen afterwards to all the reactions, comments and stories of those who had managed to be inside to make Jamaican film history.

The afterparty that was held at the Henzell home and studio, 10A West Kings House Road, still remains as the best party I have ever attended. My job with The Harder They Come was the most important experience of my life, and the lyrics of Jimmy’s song Sitting in Limbo changed me from the person I had been when I first heard it in 1972, into the Rasta I have been ever since.

Thank you, Jimmy Cliff. I am so very, very grateful.

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