How I found out Perry Barr's dirty secret - a direct link to slavery
Posted on the 24th January 2018 in the category sport

You always seem to find something important or something you’ve lost when you are looking for something else.

I was trying to write a fascinating local history feature about the area I love and ended up finding out my beautiful darling had a dirty dark secret - slavery.

I know how UKIP leader Henry Bolton felt when he found out his beloved lythe politics obsessed glamour model (how hard are they to find) was a racist knob who would lose him his job. Well, kind of, my penis hasn’t staged a stunning coup-de-te-at over my brain, heart and career, but you know what I am getting at.
My obsession did not have tits but was about the two Perry Halls, one in Perry Barr and another in Baltimore, Maryland.  This story was years in the making as to do it properly I needed to get into the American Perry Hall Mansion to do it justice, it is fair to say I was not trying to beat anyone else to this tale because I’m the only hack whose from Perry Barr and gives enough of a shit to go to any kind of effort to get it.


I grew up on the Perry Hall estate in Perry Barr, Birmingham.

The huge cheshnut and oak trees I can see from my bedroom window were part of the tree lined avenue that led to Perry Hall, the ancestral seat of the Gough family.
Perry Hall Park is now where the majestic Perry Hall stood, built in 1649 complete with its own moat and sunken Chinese gardens, kings stayed there and it was on a par with Aston Hall.

In 1928 Birmingham Corporation did a very Birmingham thing and pulled the f***r down.

The council could not afford to keep both Aston Hall and Perry Hall open so erased hundreds of years of history with a pen-stroke and started building houses on the land, including my family home.

Now only the moat (where Chalky the Swan was murdered) and the sunken gardens remain from the glory days of Perry Hall remain. They used to have boats on the moat but the boathouse got burned down in the 1980s.

The footprint of the hall is now grassed and as a kid I lost fights, won a couple, played plenty of football and caught sticklebacks in the sun.As a teen I did a bit of Thunderbirds Blue fuelled snogging and feeling up on the benches, and as an adult I’ve sat many an hour watching the world go whilst thinking about whatever is preoccupying my mind.

 It is one of my favourite places on earth.

However, when I was working for the Great Barr Observer I found out there was another Perry Hall, not in a parallel universe but in Maryland, a Gough had emigrated in the 18th Century and built Perry Hall Mansion and founded a thriving town.

I rang the Perry Hall, Maryland, librarian and she said: 'What state is your Perry Hall?' 'Oh we pulled it down in 1928'. Her shock matched my embarrassment.

Fast forward to a press trip to Baltimore about ten years ago; I saw a sign for Perry Hall Mansion and after begging the driver to do a U-turn I was outside, well by a sign for Perry Hall anyway.  The know-it-all driver was happy to say it was gated and closed to the public. I got someone to take a photo, which I never saw again, I cursed myself for forgetting all about the two Perry Halls and not asking for a visit beforehand, would I ever be that close again?

I'd be in Maryland again, three years ago, but I had forgot all about the other Perry Hall again, and had no chance convincing the PR to organise a three hour drive to the mansion.

I had unfinished business in Baltimore, Fells Point is one of the greatest places to drink anywhere on the planet, I'd been there but on a ghost tour, walking past brilliant bar after brilliant bar as locals shouted 'they’re bullshitting about ghosts' and then we were whisked back downtown for a meal at our hotel, a classic case of press trip 'look what you could have won'. 

But in 2016 I was going over for the election and heading to Philadelphia, New York and most definitely Baltimore. And I had six months to organise hotels and to get into Perry Hall Mansion.

I contacted the British PR company for Baltimore and asked them to get me into Perry Hall Mansion. So they asked their counterparts in the Charm City. And I kept on asking, but kept on getting no reply. Obviously Baltimore had a journalist coming to town and wanted them to write about the harbour area, museums, Fells Point and all the other attractions. They did not want to send him to Perry Hall Mansion which was not open to the public.

But I wanted to go. So I kept on asking, and luckily the president of the Perry Hall Mansion Inc. Jeffrey Smith works in local government in the same building as the PR team and heard about this British journalist from the original Perry Hall who wanted to come to the historic building he has spent decades trying to preserve, so the date was set.

When day came (the Saturday before the election) my meeting clashed with a Democrat rally in Philadelphia with Hilary Clinton, Joe Biden Katy Perry and Bill Clinton. who I have always wanted to see in the flesh.

Do I see my political hero or meet Jeff? Thankfully I met Jeff. My mate ordered an uber for me and off I set to Perry Hall, about an hour out of Baltimore to be the first Perry Barrican to see Perry Hall Mansion since the Gough in the 18th Century.

My phone was dying and the Uber driver had no idea where the mansion wanted to dump me in the middle of nowhere. I had to get there, how I would get back god knows, but my travelling motto is always: Just get there, worry about getting back later, but get there.

I persevered and after a few U-turns and directions from locals I ended up by a metal fence with Perry Hall Mansion behind it.

My heart sank, the grand old mansion had seen better days and had been empty since the last owner, who was a recluse, let it go to wrack and ruin. We knocked down our Perry Hall and it looked like the American one was on its last legs.

To lose one Perry Hall is unfortunate but to lose two is downright careless.

Now if the American Perry Hall Mansion was in Britain under the control of a local council then its days would be numbered, the place would burn down and be destroyed if it was not turned into flats, look at Great Barr Hall, and Corngreaves Hall, and Rookery Hall.

However, after a fascinating tour of the grand old mansion from Jeff, a friendly guy with a tache who is the archetypal decent, kind and history-cherishing American, I knew Perry Hall Mansion will survive. There are older buildings in Birmingham all over the place, but in American terms the mansion is prehistoric. George Washington even discussed its fixtures and fittings when it got built and it is on the list of important U.S historical sites.

What I found inside is the subject of a feature I will write sooner or later, along the lines of A Tale of Two Perry Halls. I now work for Metro.co.uk and it is not the type of tale our audience would appreciate, I pitched the story but was rightly told it was too niche. It would be perfect for the Great Barr Observer, but that fine organ has been taken over by Trinity Mirror, and its website is no more and its stories are published on the Birmingham Mail's website, and my byline is about as welcome there tape recorder in Trump's Oval Office.

Knowing Jeff is the custodian of the mansion means it is in safe hands, he is not going to have his head turned and become a ‘consultant’ for developers like what happened in Great Barr.

 About an hour into the tour, we both at the same time thought about taking the conversation into a bar, he took me his local dive bar and we had a riproaring day on the booze, one of my favourite days in America in fact, he ended up being a listener to the radio show and now a firm friend.

But, a house is a home. A home has people, and the best stories are about people. Jeff showed me a picture in the mansion of Francis Asbury being made a bishop with the owner of Perry Hall sitting in the front row.

Francis Asbury was born on the Newton Road in the 18th Century and emigrated to America to spread the Methodism. I know a lot about Francis, because my mom's church is Perry Barr Methodist, my nan's maiden name was Asbury and I included him in my local history talk 'Brummies and Black Country folk who helped transform the New World (£50 cash if you want me to do it your group, the Halesowen History Society was impressed).


I looked at the picture and had them old hard news butterlies started to fly around in my stomach, two men born a couple of miles apart meet in America as the new country was being forged by men like themselves - a pious Christian and slave owning plantation owner. 

Yep, the Perry Barr family who started a new life in America made their fortune on the backs of slaves, now that is what I call letting the side down. I wonder what Harry Dorsey Gough, and Francis for that matter, would have thought if he saw a picture of me and my mates in the Perry Barr Methodist Church Boy's Brigade in 1987, me being the only white boy in sea of black faces?

I did some digging and the human story I found was fascinating. I pitched it to my bosses for a Christmas feature and it was accepted under the headline - 'How two Brummies helped turned the tide against slavery in America.'

Give it a read, even if you are not from Perry Barr, I am quite proud of it.


 Harry Dorsey Gough and Francis Asbury


When two Brummies met over dinner for the first time in America, thousands of miles away from home,they had a lot to talk about.

Number one on the list was – why did one of them own slaves?

The year was 1774 and Harry Dorsey Gough had done well for himself in Baltimore, Maryland. He had completed his manor house and named it after his ancestral home Perry Hall in Birmingham, where his family had moved from decades before.

He was coining it in – on the backs of slaves. He was one of the biggest slave owners in Maryland, enslaving more than 70 people. Whilst he had boisterous parties, plenty of wine and gambled big on the horses, his wife Prudence started attending Methodist Church meetings and living a more pious life.

Although Harry and his pals first went to meetings to ridicule the new religion, he ended up being converted. He built a chapel on the side of Perry Hall and fitted the first bell ever to adorn a Methodist church in America, every day it would ring and he, Prudence and his slave families would worship.

The founder of the American Methodist Church, which now has over 60 million members, was Francis Asbury – who had grown up two miles away from Perry Hall in Birmingham, England.

He criss-crossed the New World on his horse trying to convert everyone he met, and was delighted with the chance to meet someone from the same part of the world as him. Not one to be impressed by worldly possessions and grandeur he even allowed himself to compliment Perry Hall Mansion.

He said: ‘Perry Hall was the largest house I had ever seen, and all its arrangements within and without, were tasteful and elegant. ‘Yet simplicity and utility seemed to be stamped upon the whole. The garden, orchards, and everything else, were delightful indeed, and looked to me like an earthly paradise.

‘But what pleased me better than anything else, I found a neat chapel next to the house and a small cupola and bell, which could be heard all over the farm.’ What did not delight him, however, was Harry’s slave ownership.

Harry’s conversion had been accelerated when he had seen slaves convert to Methodism and give thanks to the Lord for basically having nothing. He was not impressed enough to free his slaves though. They were making him money on his farmland. 

The slave quarters at Perry Hall Mansion 

Again and again Francis raised the issue of slaves, but still they remained anything but free. The Goughs were there when Francis Asbury was ordained a bishop of the church. It would be nearly 100 years and one civil war later until slavery was abolished for good in America, but in northern states like Maryland slaves were being made free men in the 1790s.

But not Harry Gough’s slaves. They continued being forced to work for free, were prevented from leaving the county and unable to make decisions about their lives that we take for granted now.

Prudence, whom the bishop would later describe ‘like a daughter’, and Francis kept on trying to convincearry to set them free.

President of Perry Hall Mansion, Inc Jeffrey Smith, who wrote the official history of the mansion, told Metro.co.uk: ‘It would be a nice end to the story if Harry had relented and freed his slaves.

 ‘However, all those conversations were not in vain, because he freed his slaves in his will – so when he died in 1808, the slaves were freed and their children went on to live free lives, something that Southern slaves could only dream of for decades.

‘Francis Asbury went on to be one of the most important missionaries in American history. Methodism is one of our country’s biggest religions and counts several presidents amongst their number, including both Bushes.’

He added: ‘Gough’s decision to free his slaves was part of a larger movement promoted by Asbury and a host of other Methodist preachers that led to freedom for African-Americans throughout the Mid-Atlantic states.’ Over 2,000 people attended Harry’s funeral in 1808 and Bishop Asbury presided over the ceremony.

He said: ‘Harry Dorsey Gough was a man much respected and beloved. His charities were as numerous as proper objects to a Christian is likely to make them.’

And at the end of the service, his slaves went home free men and women.

And that my friends WAS the Steve Zacharanda Radio Show
Posted on the 29th August 2017 in the category sport

After eight vanglorious years The Steve Zacharanda Radio Show is ending.

We are going out with a bang and not with a whimper.

I would have hated the show to fizzle out like a website that has not been updated for three years.

The union that funds Scratch Radio has decided it no longer wants to be a student and comnunity radio station but rather just a student station.

That is their right and I cannot believe the decision has not been made before, I want to put on record my thanks to everyone at Scratch previously and presently.

We started when the university was in Perry Barr and I felt if they were going to have a community ethos then my Perry Barr should be represented. The place I love and breathe. The hilarious tales of working and underclass life that I heard and lived had to be given a platform.
I hope the SZRS has done that.

The idea came for the show came when I was interviewing Muff Murfin from Aston FM, I pitched the idea and wrote out a plan. After the Obama storm he bottled it but a chance meeting with old drinking compadre Kevin Moore (thanks for everything) meant Scratch would be our home. And thanks to all our producers over the years Kev, Paul Hadsley, Shaggy, Rocky, Conor, Ben Stones, Chet, Jack Press, Travis and Ewan Roycroft.

And yes the show has been invited elsewhere but me and Gurdo both believe it was a Scratch show from start to finish. 

Gurdo was always going to be part of it.

So often in life we lose touch with cool people we work with and doing a show once a week was a way we would stay in touch. In the end we did more than keep in touch, we created radio gold and then ended up working together again.

No man could ask for a better friend, how he has put up with me I will never know. Well I do know, the laughs we have had have been second to none. Making him laugh when he was angry with me was a staple of the show. Our radio personalities were so close to our real ones, you could have thrown anything at us on air and we would have dealt with it.

As a writer and journalist nothing prepared me for the sheer exhilaration, terror and joy of live radio.
There is nothing like it and thanks to social media the response is instant.

We only corpsed on air once.
When I said: Mom would have talked the AIDS out of Holly Johnson.

The adreneline live radio produces is incredible, I know I can speak for Gurdo in saying that two hours or hour have often been the best of the week. On air we can leave all our shit at the studio door.
Eight years is an incredible achievement.

I wanted the show to be dangerous, I wanted people not to believe their ears and because of that we created memorable radio.

My mantra (nicked from the peerless Paul Castronovo from Paul and Young Ron) “Live Your Life on air” often came back to haunt me. But Id like to think listeners knew I was honest with them, never taking me for granted. The Warrants Out Show and numerous “Break Up Specials” prove my point.

And that one when I was late to work and Gurdo rightly ripped me, sensing he had a contrite me to mock.
But who can forget the Cross Bow Killer bit when Gurdo pretended to be UK`s unluckiest serial killer and I pretended to be 80s pop starlets who he had to choose to kill next.
I am actually proud of that.

And then who would you rather spend a week with, a terminally ill Michael Hutchence or a smacked up Heath Ledger? We asked those questions. Or a dying Les Dennis whose last thoughts were projected on screens including a naked Amanda Holden?

Who else does that on UK radio these days?
Who ever did that on radio?
We did.
And why?
Because our listeners fucking loved it.

Our listeners are our show. Clifford (The greatest PR man a show could have, who started listening cos of Rachel Riley), Memphis Michael Moore (who likes it with fur on), the Scottish lot, Danksy (from start to the end and a great guest presenter), Tipper, Tight Bass Green (Just Dont Turn Around was the pick of the songs we asked people to come up with for his MRI scan), Sexy Sophie. Claire and Tapping Brian, Tom Watson, Miami Sam, Jill Humphries,Jez, Felton when he got his things working, Burn Burn Burns, Ab, Spearman, Mark Taylor (a great guest), Bal Dadda, Jim Big House Levack, Nicky Cunningham (she broke the law as a guest bringing us beer), Amanda Cass (that pic in the 80s), EnR Twinz (who sent us their swearing version of their song), Rachel Reid, the Keane firm so many I cant keep typing as it will be boring. Ok then Lovely Ceri Saunders, James Keatley, Anton Deck, Bal Dhadda, John Bayliss, Craig Baldwin, Dawn Cowen, Tom Davis, Japhy Ryder, Marvin, Jock, Dave Finchett, Russ Cockburn and Barnetto.
Stretch who was inspired by us to set his own show whuch did better than ours making us the john the baptist to his Jesus.

The international listeners like the Ellimans and Kevin Annett who I know enjoyed getting a slice of Perry Barr down under.

And who can forget Jeff Oram?
And Jo Doyle`s lapdancing.
And Nashville Maggie with the three passports.

Who else has a dead listeners hall of fame?
Victoria Van Loan, Billy Milk, Rebecca Wallace...
I remember Lyle Bignon messaging me “Were u just asking for sexual shout outs for ur ex who had just died?”
Yes, we did that and kept her life alive.

And it was not all pratting about and daft buggering around.

The Blacklisted special is one of the greatest things I've ever done. We were the first radio show to let Dave Smith tell his story, whilst keeping it SZRS.

 And Imagine a DJ who found he warrants out for him? And then did a show about it.

Then there is the music which was from the racial barrier breaking Gurdo`s seeping sack of Sikh songs.
He was one of his generation`s best music journalists so his choice of tunes was always going to be brilliant.

I thought my friends would listen, most of them did for a bit but were probably used to hearing my shit.
But I made new friends of listeners I never knew existed. And I loved how I became friends with Gurdo's mates and him with me, I know him and Ozzy loved swapping tunes and the same with me and Stretch.

And of course all you lot who never got in touch but listened, I know me and Gurdo always were surprised when you told us you were listening.

And there is our guests, you had our airtime so no need to name you! But obviously Rachel Reid and Jo Doyle need thanking for putting up with us.

But the breakthrough came with Tom Watson`s first media appearance since one of his resignations.
We had high zeros listeners, and they loved us, Radio One and Six DJs the lot.
And then we went off air for a year.

People say “one day you will make it....”

I already have. I presented the Steve Zacharanda Radio Show with my mate Gurdo.

And it was a fucking blast.
So for one more time..
Gentleman get ready to crash ur custard trucks.
Ladies get ready to drop ur yoghurt pots.

Because the last ever Steve Zacharanda Radio Show is a two hour special at 7pm on Thursday.
And the after party is at Peaky Blinders at 9.05...
You are invited for a game of drunken OneStopARama!

Today I leave the Mighty Halesowen News - I remember my first day like it was yesterday
Posted on the 5th May 2017 in the category sport

Today, after eight fun-filled award-winning years, I leave the Halesowen News. 

This job saved my life, god knows what would have happened if I'd not been given a second chance in journalism all those years ago. 

Thankfully a great man called Paul Walker gave me that chance. Here is what I wrote about being allowed back in the game. 


The day I got back into journalism – October 2009 - from Obama and Me: The Incredible True Story of a YouTube Sensation


I opened my eyes at 6.30am, ten minutes before the alarm went off. My first thought was ‘How can I afford to get to work’? Nicole, who had returned from her weekend soujorn to fuck knows where, was wrapped up in duvets so I couldn’t touch her. She hadn’t brought any wages back from work and had left me starving all weekend, despite my fronting over £1,500 for the house we lived in. The house was perfect - and art studio for her, a writing room for me and a garden for the dog.

She hadn’t even bothered unpacking her stuff. I knew she was using our dream home as a stepping stone, because she’d been about to get evicted from her own flat. She knew I couldn't afford the place on my own, and I didn’t technically need an art studio or a garden because I couldn’t draw and I knew she’d take the dog with her if she left, but I moved in thinking I’d spend the happiest days of my life under that roof. She’d moved in counting down the days until she could move out.

All my friends had told me not to put my money into the house, on the not unreasonable grounds that they knew she was having an affair. I did too, but I wanted to look in the mirror when she left and see a man who had done everything in his power to hold onto the woman he loved. 

The only money in the house was £2 in coppers, and the only food two slices of bread and marmalade. I laughed at the note I’d left her: ‘Hey babes, no money for a Daysaver! So borrowed money out of change bag. Didn’t want to wake you as you were dead to the world! Ring you later about cheque! Love you!’.

I didn't have enough bus fare to get to work so thought I’d try to jump on the bus with my out of date travel card. The baby worked and I got to work five minutes late and started to write.  A few weeks before Gurdip had told me that there were three days of freelancing work available at the Halesowen News. I’d got the gig and chased stories liked my life depended on it. I loved it, loved having power again. I loved being back where I belonged.

I’d only lasted two days as a door to door salesman. It turned out I’d been sent around an estate that already had Scottish Electric, as the woman in the last house I’d knocked had explained to me. I poured my heart out to her, about everything. She made me a cup of tea and when she realised it was commission only told me to give up the job, claim benefits and write a book.  

The boss at the Halesowen News liked my style though. He’d been getting more complaints than he’d had for years prior to my arrival, and he kept inviting me back at £85 a day - which, after months of being on the breadline, was like winning the lottery.

At 10am on this particular October day I threatened the Press Officer at West Midlands Police. At 10.10am I demanded that his Dudley Council counterpart get me information about teenage pregnancies, and at 10.30am I phoned George Wimpy’s press office and read out inflammatory quotes to scare them into giving me a quote about floods in Halesowen. At 10.50am I scrounged a roll-up off the journo opposite, smoked it and then spotted a half smoked fag in the ash tray, which I finished off too.

At 11am I excused myself to go and get some money from a cheque that should have cleared. I filled the form in and went to the cashier. She took ages and I was nervous. “I cannot authorise this payment, please go to the reception”, she said.

My stomach turned as my financial future flashed in front of my eyes. The receptionist disappeared into the back. I was worried he was going to perform a citizen’s arrest based on the arrears in the current account, but he came back out and said “There’s been a fire in one of our business centres, so your cheque will take a day longer”.

At 12.30pm I flirted with an ex-Sandwell councillor who was 65 but sill loved a bit of it. I then conducted a little debate with myself. I had £4.50 with £2 in coppers, and was wondering whether to buy a packet of snouts or save up for a pint. In the event, I bought the fags and a pack of Somerfield cut price ginger nuts, attractively price at 39p. They were my lunch. I plugged my earphones in and listened to Tom Jones ‘I'm Never Going To Fall in Love Again’ on repeat, following it up with Michael Buble's ‘Cry Me A River’ and Gordon Lightfoot's ‘If You Could Read My Mind’.

At 2.30pm and after more threats to George Wimpy I spotted the boss, Paul Walker, nip out for the fag. I had my own so I followed him. He’d told me he’d make a decision on whether I got a full time job by today. We made small talk. He’s from Zimbabwe and after discussing his 20s in Africa we walked back in to the newsroom, at which point he said “You’ll get a letter the next few days with the official offer”. My spine tingled and my heart missed a beat. “Do you mean I’ve got the job?” I said. He looked at me and said: “Of course”. Relief hit me and I grabbed his hand and shook it too hard. I got back to the desk and the four journalists around me all clapped and gave me the thumbs up.

I knew that Paul believing in me and letting me get back into journalism was massive. I’d thought that getting another job after all the YouTube stuff was going to be nearly impossible, but thanks to him seeing my work day to day he knew I was good enough. I had had an outrageous publicity stunt planned to show the world what Nicole and her new squeeze had done to me, but now I had my dream job there was no way I was going to risk losing it.  

Facebook statusSteve Zacharanda “The reports of my demise in journalism were greatly exaggerated (had to ask new colleagues how to spell that) – I am a hack again.




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