A central part of the King Mojo project is the collection and preservation of first-hand memories from those who experienced the club first-hand. While photographs, posters and press coverage help tell part of the story, it is personal recollections that truly capture what King Mojo meant to the people who went there. We are actively encouraging former punters, musicians, staff and anyone with a connection to the venue to share their memories, stories and reflections. These accounts will help build a richer, more human record of King Mojo’s place in Sheffield’s cultural history and ensure that lived experiences are not lost with time. Memories can be sent directly to the project by email and will form a vital part of the archive, exhibition and wider legacy of the project. Click here to email.
John Newsam remembers the Mojo
Before it became widely known as King Mojo, the venue was simply the Mojo – the name used by the people who were there at the time. The ‘King’ moniker and crown logo only came later, as the club began to change towards the end of its life.
For John Newsam, the Mojo was about more than just music – it was about staying ahead of the curve.
“I remember me and friends going to London to buy the latest clothes from Carnaby Street to wear at the Mojo. Fashion changed almost weekly, so we wanted the trendiest outfits. We also went to clubs in London, mostly The Flamingo on Wardour Street, to learn the latest dance trends that we could bring back to the Mojo.”
The club itself offered something you simply couldn’t find elsewhere in Sheffield.
“People kept going because of the latest music – black American RnB and imports. It was the only place locally to hear that type of music. Plus, you got to see people wearing the latest fashion.”
At its peak, the atmosphere was electric.
“At its best it was trendsetting and vibrant – and everyone knew everyone.”
John usually went with a close-knit group of friends.
“I went with a crowd of male friends. Everyone was friendly and knew everyone.”
The sound of the Mojo was just as distinctive as the crowd.
“Black American RnB music and Motown. The stage was small and packed with instruments – saxophones, organ, guitars – leaving hardly any room for the singers.”
One of the standout memories was being part of the famous Ready Steady Go! trip.
“When I went to Ready Steady Go! we got a badge with Sheffield on it. I can’t remember the singers – I was too busy trying to get behind them so I’d be on camera. I went to a friend’s house the next day to watch it on ATV and saw myself a few times – dancing and watching the singers. I’ve always wondered if there’s a copy of that recording somewhere.”
There were also unforgettable live moments at the Mojo itself.
“I remember seeing Jimi Hendrix playing guitar with his teeth and thinking it was a stupid gimmick – not the usual Mojo music. But I was impressed seeing Stevie Wonder – I was right next to the stage, looking at his closed eyes up close.”
John also had a clear view of how the club was run.
“Pete Stringfellow was successful and knew exactly what us youngsters liked music-wise. He kept to his own clique and had no idea who most of the crowd were.”
As the 1960s moved on, the Mojo began to change.
“Towards the end it got a bit flower power. The crowd was getting younger – and I was getting older.”
Despite that, its importance never faded.
“The Mojo was a big part of my life for around three years.”
And for John, being a Mod was about more than the stereotype.
“I was a Mod and never had a scooter – neither did my friends. Being a Mod was about fashion and music. We had cars – we needed them to drive to London, and we also went to the Twisted Wheel in Manchester.”
From Mojo to King Mojo
When the club first opened, it was simply known as the Mojo.
That was the name used by those who went there at the time – “going to the Mojo” became part of everyday language among Sheffield’s young music fans. It reflected a place built around rhythm and blues, sharp fashion and a tightly connected scene.
The addition of “King” came later, towards the latter half of the club’s life, along with the now-familiar crown motif.
Peter Stringfellow himself later revealed that the crown had been borrowed from a rival venue – the Esquire on Leadmill Road.
“The crown on the Mojo logo, I nicked that off the Esquire. They had it over the ‘E’ in Esquire, so when it became the King Mojo I put an advert saying ‘now I reclaim the Crown’.”
It was a typically bold move, rooted in the fierce rivalry between Sheffield’s clubs at the time. But it also marked a clear shift in the venue’s identity.
By this point, the Mojo was changing. The sharp-edged Mod culture that had become prevalent was giving way to something looser and more experimental. Music, fashion and atmosphere were evolving rapidly, and the club moved with them.
For those who were there at the beginning, however, it remained simply the Mojo — a name that captured a particular moment in time before everything started to change.
Dave Manvell recalls how the club’s identity was regularly shaped collectively from the very beginning.
“Peter asked us to bring in objects which we thought related to ‘Mojo’. Lots of people brought dolls, which he pinned to the wall behind his record deck.”
It was a small detail, but one that captured the spirit of the place – informal, creative and driven by the crowd as much as the owners.
