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Exactly 60 years ago, Mods and Rockers fought on a Kent beach, with running battles between 400 youths and police.
Here, Sam Lennon looks back on the fallout from that chaotic weekend - and how the two subcultures have influenced future generations…
“These long-haired, unkempt, mentally unstable, petty little sawdust Caesars can only find courage hunting in packs like rats.”
That was the damning verdict of Dr George Simpson, chairman of the magistrates in Margate, after Mods and Rockers brought mayhem to the town 60 years ago this weekend.
On Whitsun, the Bank Holiday Monday of May 16-18, 1964, about 400 youths were spoiling for a fight, terrorising the locals.
Police came out in force to stop them as the two factions hurled bottles and deckchairs at each other, used coshes and knives and brawled along the promenade outside Dreamland.
There were running battles between police and hundreds of brawlers on the beach. Two officers were slightly hurt.
Later, on the high street, about 40 young men smashed council flat windows and vandalised a pub and a hardware shop.
By the end of the weekend, hundreds of young people were still wandering around the resort long after the last train had left.
One newspaper used the term: “Margate’s Whitsun Wild Ones.”
Dr Simpson delivered his memorable phrase about “sawdust Caesars” as several of the troublemakers faced him in court that week.
He added: "They came here intent with disturbing the life and property of the whole town. I intend to discourage these youths and their vicious virus.
“It is strange to see this procession of miserable specimens, so different from the strutting hooligans of yesterday."
Most of the arrested troublemakers were fined, although three were handed three-month jail terms and five were sent to detention centres for up to six months.
In October 2001, I met the MedwayAces Scooter Club in Rochester for a feature in advance of a show by the tribute group The Jamm at the city’s Casino Rooms.
At the time I spoke to Mods in their 50s who had as teenagers gone to Margate on that notorious Whitsun Bank Holiday in 1964.
Gordon Baker, then 52, of Chatham told me: “The fights between the Mods and Rockers were just like in the film Quadrophenia. I remember seeing deckchairs flying around.
"Lots of people got arrested for fighting but I was arrested only for sleeping in a bus shelter. They were that strict in those days.''
Alan Gomme, 52, of Strood, said in 2001: "A group of us travelled down on the train to Margate but the police wouldn't even let us on the platform.
"The truth is only a minority of people from both the Mods and Rockers were behind the trouble.
"Now that's all over. We still go down to the seaside resorts and when we meet the Rockers we wave or talk to each other.
"Nobody throws deckchairs anymore - they hire them.''
Medway Aces Scooter Club chairman Kim Brice said: "The fighting in the past really gave the Mods a bad press.
"But it was worse during the revival of the late 70s and early 80s when troublemakers who had nothing to do with us came down to the resorts as an excuse to fight."
Mr Gomme said being in the movement was lifelong: "You never grow out of it. We're not sad old men trying to revive our youth.
"Our interest now is in the music and the social life. It's a way of life.''
Margate had also seen trouble earlier in 1964. On Easter Monday, in March of that year, Mods and Rockers had clashed in "running battles from Cliftonville Lido along Margate High Street to the entrance of Dreamland", according to reports at the time.
One teenager, a 17-year-old boy, was left with a knife wound to his back.
It is said about 100 Mods from north London came by scooter and confronted a group of Rockers outside Dreamland.
The then-mayor of Margate demanded: ”Bring back the birch."
Clashes also erupted in Clacton that month and Hastings later in the summer.
On that infamous Whitsun Day in 1964, I was only a few days old. But years later during the Mod revival era, I escaped a battering from the cult’s then-deadly enemies - skinheads.
I was a teenager in the second wave of the Mod sub-culture in the late Seventies and early Eighties.
By then there were plenty of other youth tribes to join such as New Romantics, rockabillies or soulboys.
I was in none but the closest I saw myself to was Mod because I lapped up the music - above all The Who and The Jam, the subculture’s new figureheads by then.
In 1979 I wore a parka-like coat so others at school thought I was in the movement but that was only by chance.
But friends such as Alex Fox, and James McCabe were fully paid-up members when we were in the sixth form in Kentish Town, north London, in 1981/82.
They would on a Monday morning tell us of their classic weekends, scooter trips to Brighton or nights at a Mod club in Euston.
They wore the full uniform of hooded parkas or striped boater jackets.
In the common room they would play the latest Jam single on the record player, such as Funeral Pyre and That’s Entertainment, or older Who and Kinks records.
Mods disparagingly called skinheads “boneheads” - but to many they were the most feared cult of the time.
With a core of them violent and aggressive, that tarred the whole movement with the same brush.
They already had the intimidating appearance of cropped hair, with semi-balded heads to nut you with. Their Dr Marten steel toe-capped boots (“bovver boots”) were ideal weapons for kicking someone.
Harry, Jim and Alex at times ran the gauntlet with the skins and I also once felt their wrath.
On the night of April 12, 1980, a friend, Stuart Kerr, and I came across a large gang of skinheads outside Highgate Cemetery.
“Come here,” one of them snarled at us” as we backed away.
One headbutted Stuart and kicked him in the shin and we both fled.
I ran so fast I felt like I was flying and the angry skinhead on my heels couldn’t catch me.
“You long-legged ****,” he shouted as he gave up.
Stuart and I found each other in the street a few minutes later and he had only been slightly hurt.
The Who’s 1973 album Quadrophenia, one of the best celebrations of the Mod way of life and the film, premiered on August 16, 1979, and heavily contributed to the revival.
Lyrics in the soundtrack and original albums are peppered with references to the culture, including the high fashion-consciousness at all times. For example: “Dressed right for a beach fight.”
Mods tended to wear sharp Italian suits protected by parka overcoats.
In their parlance, a “face” was a Mod who ticked all the boxes with the right clothes, haircut and taste in music and an “ace face” had top status.
The word Mod derives from modernist, a 1950s description of modern jazz musicians and fans
Again, like in the Sixties, this new generation around me rode Lambretta and Vespa scooters.
When they travelled in groups their buzzy little engines made them sound like swarms of bees. Rockers, with ton-up motorbikes, sneered and called the Mods’ scooters their “mums’ hairdryers”.
During the Seventies and Eighties there were new Mod-inspired bands such as Secret Affair, the Chords, and Purple Hearts, though Mods consistently liked jazz, Ska and R&B music.
I was lucky enough to see The Jam at Wembley Arena on December 4, 1982, as part of their farewell tour before they broke up that month.
I had completely fallen under the spell of this group with songs such as Down in the Tube Station at Midnight and Town Called Malice. For several months I listened to no other band.
In decades since there's been a continuing Mod movement even if on a smaller scale.
In contrast to Mods, the Rockers were leather-clad and rode powerful British motorbikes such as Triumphs, often travelling at 100mph with no crash helmets.
They were fans of American rock 'n' roll such as Elvis Presley and Gene Vincent. The pompadour was the default hairstyle.
Their look was believed to have been inspired by Marlon Brando when he appeared as a leader of a violent motorcycle gang in the 1953 film The Wild One.
If you take a walk along the promenade at Margate this upcoming Bank Holiday weekend, you can reflect on the chaotic times of 60 years ago - but feel much safer.