AC/DCBon Scott’s life – like so many of the great rock ’n’ roll stories – was filled with sliding doors moments.
What if?
This is the story of one of those moments. It’s heart-wrenching and true.
John D’Arcy – known to everyone as Darce – is one of the great unsung heroes of Australian music. An old-school roadie in the days of “one band, one van, one roadie”. Fiercely loyal, Darce would have taken a bullet for one of his bands.
In the ’60s, Darce started working for The Valentines. And that’s how he met Bon, who was one of the band’s two lead singers, alongside Vince Lovegrove.
Sonically, The Valentines were a million miles from AC/DC. When Darce asked drummer Paddy Beach about their new single, Paddy replied, “My Old Man’s A Groovy Old Man.”
“So’s mine,” Darce replied, “but what’s the record called?”
“That’s it.”
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Bon would apply foundation to his arms to hide his tattoos from the teenage fans. But despite being tagged as a “bubblegum band”, The Valentines had a wild side.
Michael Gudinski’s first tour was accompanying the band to Adelaide. “Nothing could have prepared me for what ensued, that first taste of the rock ’n’ roll life,” the music mogul recalled many years later.
Gudinski was 16 – “I was still a virgin and had never seen drugs … let’s just say the tour opened my eyes.”
The Valentines were the first Australian band to be busted for drugs. When they were raided, the cops found a pipe and an envelope containing some marijuana.
The bust gave the band a bad-boy image, but it also cost them a stack of bookings.
Darce did countless road trips with Bon and the Valentines. “When I heard AC/DC’s early songs – tracks like The Jack, Show Business, Rock ’n’ Roll Singer, Rocker, Ain’t No Fun (Waiting Round To Be A Millionaire) and It’s A Long Way To The Top – I know that I lived those songs with Bon.
“We were ripped off. We got stoned. We were underpaid. And yes, it’s harder than it looks. But that’s show business, know what I mean?
“And we also had the time of our lives.”
While working for The Valentines, Darce fell in love with one of their biggest fans, Gabby. They were married in 1972.
Bon called Gab and Darce “Ma and Pa Kettle”.
When The Valentines split, Bon ended up in Adelaide, where he fronted Fraternity. And he was still living in Adelaide when he landed the gig in AC/DC.
The first time Darce saw Bon with AC/DC was a gig in Sydney at the end of 1974. The singer was wearing bright satin overalls with a little bib and brace. “He had nothing on underneath and his balls were hanging out,” Darce recalls, laughing. “It wasn’t a great look, but I knew that musically he’d found his home.
“It was great seeing Bon front a no-frills rock ’n’ roll band. He was reborn. Just a microphone in hand, backed by some killer riffs.”
“Fuck, mate,” Darce told his friend after the show, “that’s the best I’ve seen you fire up.”
“Yeah,” Bon replied, “I’ve got these young dudes behind me, kicking me in the arse, and I feel great.”
All the hard yards that Bon had done with The Valentines were paying off. He was match fit.
Darce had also graduated to some big gigs, working for promoter Paul Dainty. “It was the same old story – setting up, packing up, driving, not getting much sleep. But at least we were staying at better hotels, so the food was good.”
Bon stayed with Darce and Gab when he first came to Melbourne with AC/DC, bringing drummer Phil Rudd with him.
On another trip, Bon organised tickets when the band played at Festival Hall. “We were probably the oldest people in the crowd and everyone else was going absolutely nuts. I remember Bon was singing when he spotted us. ‘Come on, Darce,’ he yelled. ‘Get into it!’”
After another gig, Darce and Gab took Bon, and brothers Malcolm and Angus Young out for a night on the town. They drove to the Chevron on St Kilda Road, with Angus eating a Mars Bar and drinking a milkshake in the back seat. “Angus seemingly lived on milk and chocolate bars.”
But the nightclub’s bouncer wouldn’t let them in – Angus and Malcolm were too young and Gab was wearing sneakers.
Things happened quickly for Bon and AC/DC. The singer spent four years in The Valentines, and they never released an album. Four months after he joined AC/DC, they released their debut album, High Voltage.
At the time, Darce and Gab were living in Monbulk, about an hour out of Melbourne, but Bon and his younger brother Graeme dropped in. “Bon wanted to personally give us a copy of the album. He was so proud.”
Soon after AC/DC released High Voltage, they got a new bass player – Melbourne’s Mark Evans. Bon wasn’t at Mark’s audition. In fact, he didn’t meet Mark until five minutes before his first gig with the band, at the Waltzing Matilda Hotel in Springvale, but they became great mates.
Mark had a lovely description of Bon: “What a character that guy was. By his own admission, he was a great bunch of guys.”
Mark also tells a brilliant story about a bender with Bon in Paris. Surveying the scene from the tiny balcony at their hotel, Mark remarked, “How good is this?”
When Bon didn’t answer, Mark inquired, “Are you okay, mate?”
Bon was staring into the distance. “There’s a tower just like that in Paris,” he informed Mark, pointing at the Eiffel Tower. Mark decided it was time they got some sleep.
Just 10 months after their debut, AC/DC released their second album, T.N.T, featuring Bon’s classic It’s A Long Way To The Top (If You Wanna Rock ’n’ Roll). And the band’s manager, Michael Browning organised an international deal.
In 1975, AC/DC were doing a gig at Melbourne’s Hard Rock Café, on the corner of Spring and Flinders Street. Bon invited Darce and Gab to the show and greeted them when they arrived.
Bon was beaming as he hugged Darce.
“Mate, we’re doing it,” he grinned. “We’re going to England. I want you to come.”
“What?”
“I want you to come with me!”
This was what they had both dreamed of. All those nights spent smoking at that little flat on Toorak Road, talking about how they wanted to take an Aussie band overseas and kick arse.
Darce didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“I understood where Bon was coming from. He knew it was a long way to the top and touring overseas wouldn’t be easy. He dug his new band mates, but he was also aware that he came from a different generation – he was nine years older than Angus, and seven years older than Malcolm. Bon wanted to have a mate with him, someone who knew him and someone he trusted.
“Bon was becoming the rock star we always knew he would become. And that can be a dangerous time. When you’re famous, everyone wants to know you. But are they your friends just because of your fame?
“Bon and I were mates when he had nothing but his talent and his street smarts. We’d slept in vans together. I knew how he functioned. I could read him on stage. A good roadie can watch a band and know what they need, often even before they know.”
“So, can you come with me?” Bon asked as he and Darce stood backstage at the Hard Rock Café.
So many things were running through Darce’s head. He loved Bon and knew how much fun they would have on the road. But then he looked at Gab and realised how much he loved his wife and their baby daughter, Bec.
“Having come from a broken home myself, I didn’t want to see my own kid deal with all of that. And I knew that if I went with Bon and AC/DC, I might never come back.”
Darce’s voice was quivering when he finally replied. “Mate, I can’t … I can’t go.
“I’m sorry, mate.”
Bon looked at Gab and he understood. “We both had tears in our eyes. I thought he was living the dream, but I think he thought we were living the dream.”
As Bon rushed off to do the show, Michael Browning spotted Darce as he wandered into the crowd. “Hey, mate,” he smiled. “Come with me.”
When Darce walked into the office, he found that Bill Joseph, The Valentines’ old manager, was also there.
Michael came straight out with it: “Bon wants you to come overseas with us.”
The manager was surprised that Darce didn’t look happy.
“I know,” Darce replied. “I’ve just told him I can’t go.”
Michael and Bill could feel Darce’s anguish. But they also knew there was nothing they could say that would change his mind.
“It was a horrible dilemma,” Darce reflects. “To go on the road and look after Bon, or stay home and look after my family: my mate or my wife and daughter?
“And I’ve thought about it every day since.”
Darce remains haunted by how Bon died – cold and alone in a car in London in 1980. He could have done with a mate.
But Gab reassures him that Bon “might have died alone, but that doesn’t define how he lived his life”.
Darce and Gab told their Bon stories in the book Live Wire, which they did with their friend Mary Renshaw, who was one of Bon’s true loves – the singer’s “soulmate and companion”, as Mark Evans describes her.
When asked what she thought Bon would be doing now if not for that sad night in London, Mary replies: “I know that he’d be young at heart, he wouldn’t be some boring old guy.
“He’d probably have his own little band, and they’d be playing up the road from where he lived – when AC/DC weren’t touring.”
Two months before he died, Bon told a Scottish interviewer: “You’re never too old to rock ’n’ roll.”
Darce and Gab have just returned from Bonfest, the annual celebration of Bon’s life in Kirriemuir, Scotland where Bon was born.
As he remembers his great mate on what would have been his 80th birthday, Darce will find himself playing the T.N.T. album. Invariably, he places the needle on track two, side one, Rock ’n’ Roll Singer.
“It’s a great little song,” he smiles.
And every time Darce hears it, he thinks, “Fuck, mate, everything you’re singing about there, you fucking did.”
A rock ’n’ roll star? Yes, I are!
Bon did it.
This piece of content has been assisted by the Australian Government through Music Australia and Creative Australia, its arts funding and advisory body
