An amazing story about a humble, extraordinary man T

HREE weeks ago, the Echo featured a story headlined “In search of Toy Mic Trev”.

The piece centred around the search for a much-loved and well-remembered busker who used to be a permanent fixture on the streets of Cardiff, but who had disappeared from view.

If you had ever trodden the streets of Cardiff in the late 1990s and noughties, you would have seen him.

Slight of frame, but big of voice – he was known simply by his distinctive moniker, Toy Mic Trev.

One minute he was there – the diminutive crooner belting out his easy-listening hits via his instantlyrecognisable plastic toy echo microphone to an adoring public from a passageway between Boots and JD Sports on Queen Street – the next he was gone.

Many said that he had retired, but more, many more, believed he had sadly passed away, another character to add to local folklore – a hand-medown of myth and legend enshrined in the bricks and dust of an ever-changing city’s relentless march.

And time did nothing to dim his memory, it only confirmed his place in the pantheon of city greats – a name as synonymous with the Welsh capital’s rich history as Clark’s Pies, Billy The Seal, Brains SA and Caroline Street.

But when we discovered he was alive and well and living in the Rhondda valley, the outpouring of joy and love was instant – and a little overwhelming.

I can safely say that in my near 30 years in journalism, I have never seen such an incredible reaction to a story.

I knew he was popular, a Cardiff great who meant so much to so many, but the reaction was astonishing.

The story was shared thousands of times online with many people telling their own personal stories about this little man with the big heart, whose life had suffered its share of knockbacks since he disappeared from view.

Many of those recollections were emailed to me and they were all, in their own way, universally moving.

Take this beautiful story from Sian James.

She said: “I worked in Cardiff during the late 1990s, early 2000s and every lunchtime I would go down Queen Street for some fresh air and buy my lunch.

“It was always a great joy to spot Trev, I knew that I could ask him to sing a song for £1, by my late father’s (who passed away in 1995) favourite crooner, Matt Monro.

“Trev would burst into that all-time classic Softly and, even though he could have sung songs by a myriad wonderful singers such as Sinatra, Dean Martin, Andy Williams or Jack Jones, he always agreed and sung that special song so beautifully and with feeling. I was always moved to tears by his rendition and he used to know me as ‘the lady who asked for Matt Monro,’ while everybody else asked for other singers.

“In 2003, I changed jobs and didn’t go into the city centre so much, then I went to London to work and it was a while before I realised Trev was no longer there.

“Thank you for bringing back such wonderful memories of a true gentleman, who helped this lady come through a very difficult period, while grieving for my dad.” Whether Trev had touched people’s lives personally or not, it seemed that it was a good news story, a piece of positive escapism, that put a smile on people’s faces, Paul Fish wrote: “With such bad news seemingly always around, this article brought genuine joy to me. “I was born and raised in Cardiff and moved away 10 years ago.

“Your article took me right back to walking down Queen Street, on an invariably drizzly Cardiff day and can still see Trev now and hear the echo effect, belting out old classics from his toy mic. Thanks for the memories.”

Then there was this from somebody who had never lived in Cardiff but had randomly read the story and was so moved they emailed to express their thoughts.

Azhar Mahmood said: “On a train journey home after work I’ve read your story about Toy Mic Trev and I couldn’t help but to send you this email.

“What an amazing story about this extraordinary man, although I never met Trev and in fact have never been to Wales, but instantly I felt inspired reading about him.

“People like him make our world a better place to live in so therefore they should get all the recognition they deserve.

“You’ve certainly done a great job of finding him and meeting him. I wish him all the best for the future.”

Since the story ran – and since, as reported in the Echo, Toy Mic Trev subsequently gave a special one-off performance back at his old Queen Street busking spot – the generosity of the public has been incredible.

The outpouring has ranged from offers of tea and cake at cafes to live shows, appearances at folk clubs and with male voice choirs.

What the story underlined is that the character of a city is as much in its people as it is in its buildings.

For somebody who brought so much joy to so many people, it’s only right and proper that this lovely, humble man whose greatest pleasure in life was to sing for those who wanted to listen, gets the recognition he deserves.

As for Trevor himself, well he hasn’t stopped smiling. He’s loved reading people’s memories of his days on Queen Street. He wants to thank everyone who has posted and says it means so much to him.