THIS ethically underpinned series tends not to go for low-lying fruit, easy targets. That is to say, it discusses these but tries not to diss them overly.

Bear that in mind as, agog, you read this week of The Alexander Brothers, siblings of tartan kitsch, botherers of yir wee nana’s shortbread tins, twee to a tee, and a hard act to follow when it came to easy listening. They may not be your cup of meths but, as we frequently point out in these lectures or homilies, they brought pleasure to many.

Thomas Armit “Tom” Alexander was born on June 25, 1934, and his brother John “Jack” Armit Alexander on November 11, 1935, in Cambusnethan, near the quaint health resort of Wishaw.

Their father Jimmy was a steelworker, and their mother Helen, who sang and played piano, encouraged the boys’ love of music. Of an evening, the family gathered round the piano to sing.

Tom picked up the accordion at the age of nine, with Jack following later on piano, each learning a repertoire more classical than particularly Scottish.

As for the show business side, it’s said they got the bug after seeing a Sunday school production of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs at Cambusnethan North Church. Musta been a beezer.

Tom did so well he was invited to attend Bill Brown’s School of Accordionists. At the 1952 National Accordion Organisation Championships in Glasgow, he swapped his old Hohner for Brown’s Fratelli Crosio – yes, indeed – and so won the contest, playing Pietro Frosini’s Bats at Sunset and Eugene Ettore’s Spanish Holiday.

Jack, meanwhile, had by his mid-teens earned several diplomas at advanced grade on the piano. Their sister Betty was taking dancing lessons, and the Alexander Trio often performed at family gatherings.

Criminal past

Wary of showbiz dreaming, their father ensured they got a trade, and so Tom and Jack became painters and decorators, peeing and deeing by day, and by night playing church halls, old people’s homes, hospitals working men’s clubs and, on one occasion, Barlinnie prison. Human rights groups protested, saying it was a cruel and unusual punishment. No, they didn’t. Only joking.

After Jack returned from national service with the Queen’s Own Cameron Highlanders, “the Boys” (as their fans called them) decided to turn professional. They entered a talent contest at their local cinema, winning easily.

An influential theatrical agent, Ross Bowie, was so impressed he placed them under contract, and they made their professional debut with a summer season at Arbroath’s Webster Theatre as part of a variety show called, er, the Arbroath Follies.

At first, wearing suits, they didn’t make much of an impact until Bowie persuaded them to pour themselves into kilts, resulting in cheers, tears and toasts of “Slàinte mhath”.

This, and a change to more Scottish songs, led to their first long-term contract at £25 a week for five winter seasons at Glasgow’s Metropole Theatre and an engagement at London’s Metropolitan Theatre. With Jack singing and Tom on accordion, they now attracted the attention of Pye Records and Tony Hatch, the producer and songwriter whose Downtown made Petula Clark a huge star.

Six weeks later, they cut their first LP, Highland Fling, which included Scottish standards such as Scotland the Brave and Mairi’s Wedding. Their most popular recording was a take on Hank Snow’s emotional lullaby Nobody’s Child in 1964, which sold more than The Beatles did in Scotland at that time.

Tom recalled: “It was a country single and nobody else was covering that type of music at the time.” Reader’s voice: “Thankfully.” Wheesht, you!

Every Christmas, a girl at our school used to sing Nobody’s Child. I still have the card that the teacher used to distribute afterwards containing the Samaritans’ phone number.

Highland sing
THE Bros’ other popular songs include These Are My Mountains, The Northern Lights of Old Aberdeen, Bonnie Wee Jeannie McColl, and Two Highland Lads.

Their 1966 album, These Are My Mountains, peaked at 29 in the UK chart. Soon, tapping into the nostalgic expat market, the Boys went all international, making their first trip to Canada and the United States with Andy Stewart, and conquering (up to a point) New Zealand and Australia a few years later.

They appeared at Sydney Opera House with another Scottish legend, Jimmy Shand, and also played in New York’s Carnegie Hall. In Los Angeles, one special fan was Hollywood actor Charlton Heston, who regularly showed up in full Highland dress. Another notable highlight was sharing a bill with Shirley Bassey on the television variety show Sunday Night at the London Palladium in 1967.

Already, by 1965, they’d been given their own long-running show on STV, with the opening credits showing our bonnie lads striding manfully through the heather. They also appeared on the channel’s non-specific show Thingummyjig.

During their career, the Brothers released scores of albums and, in the mid-1990s, supplemented these with music videos, and later DVDs, latterly produced by Kilsyth-based Scotdisc.

After 40 years in showbiz, fellow entertainer Johnny Beattie organised a surprise celebration for the much-loved duo. First Minister Donald Dewar sent greetings, as did yon Queen Elizabeth.

They received MBEs in the 2005 New Year Honours List, which Tom said was “nae bad for two painters from Wishaw”. The pair were famously parodied by Stanley Baxter, which to their credit they found hilarious.

In May 2012, they announced their retirement owing to Jack’s increasingly poor health. On November 2, 2013, Jack died aged 77. Obituaries described him as an entertainer of charm, humour and a love of life, averring that, while Tom excelled on the accordion, Jack’s high tenor voice, flowing fair hair and good looks particularly endeared the pair to fans.

According to peers
TOM continued to perform occasionally as a solo act and died on January 9, 2020 aged 85. Accordionist Leonard Brown was among those paying tribute, saying: “He was a total gentleman and definitely someone to look up to.”

Indeed, Tom was regarded as one of the finest box accordion players of his kind. His own musical heroes included Norwegian accordion genius Toralf Tollefsen, and he was also a jazz fan, particularly admiring the improvising accordionist Jack Emblow.

Between them, the Boys had always been at ease on stage or screen, presenting their songs in a relaxed and generous manner, wearing their kilts with pride, and not caring about being called “kitsch” because, in their chosen genre, they were supremely talented.

Robert McNeil is a freelance journalist specialising in generalities. His anti-fishing polemic, Taking the Pisces, is available from his garage.