Читать книгу Tom Jones - An Extraordinary Life - Gwen Russell - Страница 8

Things were getting serious. Tom had now made the decision to pursue a career in music in earnest, and it was a far from straightforward road that lay ahead. It was also financially precarious. The couple still had no money and now, on Tom’s side at least, no fixed income, and what he did earn wouldn’t have taken them far. Singing in the pubs and clubs of Wales was not a well-paid occupation, but by now he was determined to make a go of it, and he took to his new career with gusto.

He also, for pretty much the only time in his entire career, managed to persuade Linda to come along to watch him perform. Much has been made of the fact that Tom’s wife doesn’t attend his concerts because she doesn’t like the way other women respond to him (and who can blame her?). But there is another element in her reticence, too: Tom’s act is pretty highly charged, not simply because of his cavorting, but also the sheer scale and range of his voice and Linda was constantly anxious that something would go wrong. In the event, her presence was not a great success. ‘In the end, she got so bloody drunk that I had to go into the ladies’ room to get her out once the whole thing was over,’ said a wry Tom. ‘She’d bloody collapsed in there because she’d got too excited. That’s the way she’s always felt. If I go for a high note, she’s worried I’m not going to make it.’ And that, as far as Linda attending Tom’s concerts was concerned, was that.

Now that he was in a band, changes had to be made. For a start, Tommy Woodward became Tommy Scott and, dressed in black leather, he began to perform with his new friends. At his suggestion, the music was Rock’n’Roll, with the result that the local pub owners would take one look at the leather, the instruments, and offer to pay the band off without them actually playing. But Tom managed to persuade them to think again. ‘I said, “Wait a minute,” he recalled. ‘“Let’s start the show. After a while, if we do three or four tunes and you’re bothered by it and people are not digging it, fair enough.” So there we were on a Saturday night, and “Pay ’em off!” became, “Do you think we can get an extension if we call the police tonight?” And did we mind if they moved all the tables and chairs so everyone could have a dance? And I said, “By all means.” So I introduced Rock’n’Roll to Welsh working men’s clubs. They had never had it before.’

He wasn’t exaggerating (or at least, not much). Since he was a teenager Tom had been listening to Rock’n’Roll in the dance halls, which meant, in effect, he’d been preparing for the moment when he would play it himself. ‘We were being influenced a lot by that kind of music,’ he said. ‘So then I would incorporate it into, you know, if I got up into a pub. I learned to play guitar because the piano players around couldn’t play it. It was a music that they were not used to. So, if you went into a pub in Pontypridd and there was a piano player there, nine times out of ten they wouldn’t be playing Rock’n’Roll. So I started – I learned to play the guitar in order to accompany myself. You know, so I used to go to a pub called The Wheatsheaf in Ponty and I’d take the guitar there on a Friday night and a Saturday night, and get up and make my own Rock’n’Roll music.’

It was a rough old time but Tom had the stamina to cope with it. ‘They would ring the police station to get the licence extended till midnight, and I would sing for hours with just the odd break for a pint at the bar,’ he recalled on another occasion. It wasn’t just the odd pint – friends from those days remember he managed to get through about ten or twelve of them without the alcohol having an effect on his performance at all. Indeed, he was to become as well known for being a bon viveur as he was for his other excesses, although in time it was champagne, rather than beer, that would become his tipple of choice.

Inch by inch, he was beginning to make his mark, gathering a devoted following in South Wales. He continued to upstage everyone around him: an early gig was in Porthcawl, where the Senators were supporting Billy J Kramer and the Dakotas. They were such a hit with the audience that Kramer had to let them perform a second set to pacify all those present: it was Tom who seemed to be the star of the show rather than anyone else. With that kind of audience reaction, he was bound to come to the attention of the professionals and the first people to realise his potential were Raymond Godfrey and John Glastonbury, also known as Meirion and Byron. The two were songwriters and, on seeing the Senators playing in Caerphilly, they realised that here was a man who had the capacity to make it to the very top. They were just what Tom needed at the time: they had contacts with the music business in London and, until he made his breakthrough in London, the centre of the music industry, he hadn’t a hope of achieving fame – and they were able to offer some much-needed guidance.

With a producer called Joe Meek of Telstar Records, Godfrey and Glastonbury helped the Senators to make a demo tape with a view to a major label picking it up, but none of them were particularly interested, and nor did that relationship run smoothly. The band were hoping to release a single called ‘Lonely Joe/I Was A Fool’, but Meek then refused to release the tapes. It was an extremely frustrating period for all concerned. But Godfrey and Glastonbury did have those all-important London contacts and so it was that Tom was discovered for the first time by Peter Sullivan of Decca Records, who realised that here was a truly impressive singing talent. He was persuaded to move briefly down to London, where, on the recommendation of Decca Records A&R [Artist & Repertoire] man Dick Rowe, he was given a manager: Phil Solomon, described by one person as an ‘imperious entrepreneur’. What seemed like a major breakthrough was not to last, however. The two men did not get on and so, with his career still at its earliest stages, Tom returned to Wales.

While he was having that early London adventure and trying to make it as a singer, back in Wales Linda kept the home fires burning, working to support the family. She is remembered as being a vivacious girl in those days, bright and easy-going and very popular. ‘She was a beautiful girl,’ said Dorothy Woodward, another of Tom’s cousins on his father’s side. ‘Maybe she grew up too quickly. She was very glamorous, right up to date. The short crop hair, the DA. At that time she was quite outgoing. When Tom was in London trying to make his name she worked the evenings with my other sister on Treforest Trading Estate. She was always jolly, quite good fun to be with, chatty.’

Of course, Linda was young and pretty, and all alone while her husband was trying to make the big time in London. What, Tom was once asked, would he have done if the unthinkable happened and Linda had cast her eyes elsewhere? He was incredulous at the very thought. ‘My wife cheating on me?’ he asked. ‘Well, it would never happen. When I first went to London, that was the closest. She used to go out with a girlfriend and fellas would bring her home but that’s as far as it went. I’ve got a lot of friends there, see. I don’t think she’d be able to get away with it without being noticed. She never wanted to, as far as I know. I would never question her about it, unless it was brought to my attention.’ It never was, of course, as Linda remained an utterly loyal wife, keeping the little family in Wales together.

Meanwhile, Tom slogged on. Here is a taste of what life for him was like in those early days. In 1964 he sang in the White Hart pub. ‘I was paid a tenner,’ he said, ‘which I had to split five ways.’ But his life really was changing now, for his reputation was spreading and, while he still hadn’t broken through in London circles, people were beginning to talk about this handsome young Welshman with the astonishing voice. He had his own following and fans would follow him around Wales to see him. Sooner or later it was inevitable that he would be discovered and the person who finally did so was fellow Welshman Gordon Mills. A character in himself, he was a former bus conductor who later informed the public that he had the largest collection of orang-utans in the world!

Gordon went to see the Senators at the Top Hat in 1964, a club in Cwmtillery. It took him no time at all to realise quite what a talent was on show there. ‘The first few bars were all I needed to hear,’ he said. ‘They convinced me that here was a voice that could make him the greatest singer in the world.’ He lost no time in approaching Tom. This time singer and manager hit it off and Gordon took Tom to London to begin the serious business of getting him known. To do so, he had to make a deal with Godfrey and Glastonbury, who were still his managers. In return for 5 per cent of Tom’s future earnings they gave up their role, which unfortunately became the subsequent basis for legal wrangling.

Tom takes up the story. ‘So, I was singing with The Senators in this club in Cwmtillery called the Top Hat Club,’ he said. ‘It sounds very posh, but it wasn’t! So, we were playing there and Gordon with his wife came and saw the show. When he saw it, or heard me singing, he said, “My God, you should be in London!” And I said, “I understand that, but who do I talk to when I get there?” And he said that he would help me. He wasn’t thinking about management at that time. But he said he was writing songs for Leeds Music, a music publishing company, and he would do whatever he could. He called me another night and said that he was thinking about management. He said he’d never managed anybody before because he was singing with a group called The Viscounts up to that point, and he had had some success with writing songs.’

Actually Tom already knew of Gordon Mills, which gave him some confidence, as did Gordon’s track record. Apart from his time as a singer, he had also had some success as a songwriter, which meant that he knew all the different aspects of the trade. ‘He wrote “I’ll Never Get Over You” for Johnny Kidd and The Pirates, and he wrote a song for Cliff Richard,’ said Tom. ‘Cliff had a hit with one of Gordon’s songs so he was doing well as a songwriter. So he said he would like to manage me if I was up for it. And I said, yes, definitely. Because I knew who Gordon Mills was, I’d seen him on television, so I knew that he knew what he was talking about. He wasn’t one of those guys that said he could do something and then he couldn’t. I mean, I knew this man could.’ He was right. Gordon did, once famously telling him, ‘You just sing. I’ll do the rest.’

A few preparations had to be made, starting with his name. There was already a Tommy Scott in London, so a new moniker was needed, and fast. Tom’s real name, Woodward, was felt to be not quite right. But finally Gordon Mills had a stroke of genius: a new film had just been released starring Albert Finney, which was receiving a huge amount of publicity. Why not take advantage of that and give him the name of the film, Tom Jones? And so a legend was born. On Gordon’s part this was a very canny move and a sure sign that Tom had finally got the right person to help him on his way. The various stop-starts up to this point certainly hadn’t hurt him, too, for they gave him a certain resilience necessary for any performer who has a career spanning decades and an ability to bounce back; they also helped him keep his feet on the ground. Even now, Tom has never made the error of believing his own publicity: while he has talent by the sack-load, to get to where he is now takes a great deal of luck, too. He has always acknowledged this and never denied how fortunate he has been.

Even so, it was not all plain sailing – it took a while before a record deal came through, a time that was to prove miserable for the young Tom. He was scruffy and perceived by many records companies to be too ‘raw’. He and the band were living in London’s Notting Hill on the £1 a day paid to them by Gordon, which was less than the average wage in 1964, while back in Wales Linda was still working. He really considered giving up. ‘There was only one time when he wavered and that wasn’t because he was thinking about himself,’ said Freda Woodward. ‘He had come home for Christmas. “Mum,” he said, “I think I’ll just have to throw it in and take up work again.” He felt really bad about his wife having to work to keep the home fires burning. I said, “Don’t worry, it will come out all right. I know you can do it.” “Do you really think that, Mum?” “Yes, just be a little patient.”’

Times were so tough that on one occasion Tom actually stole a steak from a passing waiter at a trendy club where they had all gone to be seen. Indeed, for one very brief moment, he even contemplated ending it all. He was on a platform on the London Underground when it occurred to him how easy it would be to jump. ‘For a split second I thought, aww, f**k it! If I just step to the right it’d be over,’ he said. ‘I felt so down because I didn’t know what to do. That very rarely happens to me. I didn’t want to go back to Wales without proving myself. I wasn’t making any money. F**k it! But then things flash through your mind. What about your wife? What about your son? What about your mother and father, how would they feel? But for that split second, that’s as low as I ever got, just before “It’s Not Unusual”.’ But he didn’t jump.

Ironically, it was just a few weeks after that when Tom signed with Decca record label. They had not forgotten their initial interest in the young man with the astounding voice. But what was needed now was a hit. For all the power and magnificence of his voice, Tom still had to channel it into the right material and this was not immediately forthcoming. Indeed, his first single, ‘Chills and Fever’, released in 1964, sunk without trace. But Decca knew what it had on its hands and the company determined their new singer was to make the grade, and so plans began for a second, follow-up single. The choice, ‘It’s Not Unusual’ (1965), was not an obvious one. For a start, it had originally been intended for the singer Sandie Shaw and, in its early state, was very much more watered down than Tom’s version would become. Written by Gordon Mills himself, it had been recorded as a demo with Tom singing. He immediately latched on to it, exclaiming, ‘I’ve gotta have that song!’ Although Gordon was unsure as to the wisdom of this, Tom persisted and eventually got his way.

There were still more boundaries to overcome. The song had been written for Sandie Shaw and the next task was to ensure that she would be happy if it went to someone else. In the event she was extremely gracious. ‘God bless Sandie Shaw,’ said Tom, decades later, ‘because she said, “Whoever is singing this demo should put it out. I can’t sing like that.”’ And so it was that the song was altered to suit Tom’s macho style and released. Even so it was not plain sailing. Had it not been for pirate radio, Tom might never have made his big breakthrough and the world would have been deprived of one of the twentieth century’s greatest entertainers. The BBC considered the single so raunchy they didn’t want to play it but pirate station Radio Caroline was made of sterner stuff and gave it airtime. Decca was quite right: on 1 March 1965, ‘It’s Not Unusual’ went to No. 1 in the charts. It caused an absolute sensation.

Freda Woodward had previously heard the song and knew there was a chance it wouldn’t be released. ‘If they do, you’ve got a winner,’ she told Tom. And they did. ‘We heard it one morning on the radio,’ she said. ‘Then a few days later a little lad down the road ran up and said, “Mrs Woodward, do you know that Tommy’s record is No. 21 in the charts?”’

‘No. 27,’ Tom Senior corrected her.

‘That’s right,’ said Freda. ‘He said it was No. 27.’

‘It then did a big jump into the Top Ten,’ said Tom Senior. ‘When it came out in the papers that Tommy was No. 1, the neighbours kept running up all day, saying, “He’s done it! He’s done it!” It was marvellous, and that night we had a party and tasted champagne for the first time.’

The speed of his success caught even Tom by surprise. ‘I was on a package tour with a lot of bands and I wasn’t aware that “It’s Not Unusual” was going so fast up the chart,’ he said. ‘We used to do two shows a night. So between shows I went to the pub and I was having a pork pie and a pint, and these girls were outside screaming. I thought they must be here for one of the rock bands on this package, but they’d all gone back to the theatre; the kids must think they’re in the pub. So I walk out the pub, straight into this crowd, with a pork pie in my hand. And they go “Oooooo” and they’re on me! And they tore everything. I had this raincoat, the first decent raincoat I ever bought, and it went like in f**king shreds. I had to run to get back in the theatre.’

It was proof, right from the start, that here was a force to be reckoned with, and the reaction from the girls made it clear that Decca now had a serious sex symbol on their hands. Tom had not had a formal training, but he possessed a certain raw quality that made him stand out from the crowd. Not only this, but his quite exceptional voice brought the house down wherever he went. And so almost overnight he was catapulted from a complete unknown into mega stardom. Given how suddenly it all happened, it was quite a change to cope with, but he managed. And he was certainly different from anyone else around in Britain at the time. ‘He has a very earthy appeal,’ said one music industry analyst. ‘When he first burst on the scene, the charts were full of skinny young pretty-boys. With his strapping build, hairy chest and tight curly hair, Tom was the complete opposite. But it was soon obvious that he appealed to ladies, who liked a bit of meat with their veg.’ It was an interesting way of summing up his appeal, but undoubtedly true.

At that early stage of Tom’s career many patterns were emerging that were to become part of his life throughout his career. For a start, it was not widely known that there was a Mrs Tom Jones in the background. Keen that he should appeal to as wide an audience as possible, Tom’s managers encouraged him to deny that he was married, something he duly did. Of course, it then came out almost immediately that not only was there a wife but also a son in the background, one who was now eight years old. And so, on 1 March 1965, the day ‘It’s Not Unusual’ went to the top of the charts, Tom confessed that Linda was waiting for him back home. Indeed, he seemed nothing but relieved that his secret was finally out.

‘I was told by my managers, publicists and everyone around me to say I was single,’ he revealed. ‘I was not happy about it because it’s not true. I am married. When I came to London I was told to say I was single. I knew that sooner or later the secret would come out. It’s never been a secret back home in Wales that I was married. But when I came to London it was felt best if my wife and son were dispensed with. I should never have agreed to say I was single in the first place. When I sing, I sing from the soul. And I sing from my heart – you can’t fool teenagers.’

The song duly made No. 1, Tom’s fans coped with the fact that he was married and his rollercoaster ride to fame began in earnest. ‘Bookings for performances came in so fast from all round the country that I doubt if I could have told you the day of the week,’ he recalled, some years later. ‘It is a rule in showbusiness strategy to cash in on a success and we were doing that as hard as we could. Life became a bewildering succession of stages, stage-door crowds to be escaped from in disguise, reporters, photographers with flashing cameras, snatched meals and crazy drives across the country.’ He, of course, loved every minute of it.

Such sudden success meant logistical problems had to be tackled swiftly, too. Tom’s old friend, Chris Ellis, had driven the band around in the early days on a part-time basis. ‘We were seldom on time because the van kept breaking down,’ he once said. After that first hit he was asked to become Tom’s full-time road manager and he accepted the job. ‘Tom did not have a car of his own for some time,’ he recalled, in 1969. ‘Then he bought a new Jag. I was with him the first time he took it out. At a roundabout, Tom hit another car. His driving has improved since then, but he usually prefers to let me do the driving. Now it’s a Rolls, and he has to sit at the back with darkened windows up, otherwise there would be autograph hunters waiting every time we stopped at the traffic light.’

Delighted with the success of the song, Decca realised it had a major star in the making and released three more of Tom’s singles that year. ‘Once Upon a Time’, ‘Little Lonely One’ and ‘With These Hands’ didn’t do quite so well as ‘It’s Not Unusual’, but they were perfectly creditable and had the effect of building up his career. His first album, Along Came Jones, was released in the summer of 1965, and along with the songs by Gordon Mills and Lou Reed, featured numbers written by Jerry Lieber and Phil Specter (‘Spanish Harlem’), Wilson Pickett (‘If You Need Me’), Chuck Berry (‘Memphis Tennessee’), Johnny Mercer (‘Autumn Leaves’) and Brook Benton (‘Endlessly’.)

Along Came Jones was released in the States under the title It’s Not Unusual. On the cover, in blue jeans and red shirt Tom stands, looking moody and almost unrecognisable from the man of later years and indeed, this was one of the last sightings of his original nose. It’s still possible to see the early, raw Tom in his features, but he was learning – and changing – fast. The boy from the valleys was metamorphosing into a metropolitan sophisticate who would soon be taking the world by storm. By this time it was also becoming clear to him that he was going to have to leave Wales and move to London full time. His feelings about this were very mixed: on the one hand, all these great opportunities were opening up to him and yet he was leaving the land of his fathers. In recent years he sounded quite wistful about the fact that Charlotte Church was able to stay put: ‘She likes Cardiff and it’s great if she can do it,’ he said. ‘In the sixties you had to move to London because there was no M4 and the quickest way to London was by train.’ And so move he did, now taking his family with him.

As his profile increased, Tom stepped up his touring, first in the UK before going on abroad. He has fond memories of those years. ‘The first thing I remember was going up to Scotland to play the Glasgow Apollo and my organ player was driving,’ he said. ‘We stopped at the side of the street and asked this guy directions and I couldn’t understand a word he said. After we found the Apollo, it was a great experience. I remember doing a soft ballad and during a little gap in the song, a girl loudly sighed, “Och, Tom!” I could hear it cutting through the air and I started to laugh. It broke me up and destroyed the mood, but it was so funny and so Scottish. I’ve toured all over the world, but Scottish people in general never mess us about. They tell you exactly what they think. And for me, not being English had a lot to do with the Scots accepting me.’

More major hits followed, as Gordon cleverly had Tom record the music for two films. The first of these successes, in June 1965, was ‘What’s New, Pussycat’. The second, in December of the same year, was for the latest James Bond movie, Thunderball. Of course, Bond and Tom Jones were made for one another: had the spy been real rather than fictional, he would almost certainly have bumped into Tom at a Las Vegas casino, checking out the women and deciding which ones to go for. (And Bond wouldn’t necessarily have won.) It was certainly very prestigious, too. At the time the Bond movies caused as big a sensation as Jones did himself, and anyone chosen to sing the theme tune was considered much honoured. Tom himself was delighted.

‘You know, there’s a lot of movies now with a lot of special effects and stuff,’ he said, years later, recalling how he was asked to sing the Bond theme. ‘But they are still making James Bond movies. But then it was new. Sean Connery was James Bond and all those special effects were all new then to film-making. So if we could get a Bond song to go with the film that was fantastic. Shirley Bassey did Goldfinger (1964), which was very successful for her, Matt Monroe did From Russia with Love (1963), which was very successful, and then I did Thunderball. So it was great, you know, to get a Bond. I was glad that they asked me. John Barry and Don Black wrote it. I was thrilled when they asked me to do it, and it was a huge success.’

It also was the source of an almost certainly apocryphal story. Tom ends the song on such a throbbing, drawn-out cry of ‘Thunderbaaaaaaaaaaall!’ that stories circulated that he had passed out after the recording. That is almost certainly not true, but it is an indication of the power and strength of his voice.

Tom’s next record, ‘A-Tom-ic Jones’ came out the following January and shortly afterwards, another person instrumental in forming his image and guiding his career came on to the scene: Chris Hutchins. He was to become second in importance only after Gordon Mills in Tom’s career at that point. Hutchins identified exactly what was needed to project him to the public in a way that would build on his charisma and sex appeal, something that, despite all the Rock’n’Roll and tight leather trousers of the early years, had always been played down. Indeed, Tom was very much presented as a family man. An astute PR man, Hutchins decided that from now on, Tom’s status as an attractive man should be brought to the fore, whereas his marriage and child should not be emphasised. There would be no more cosy domestic interviews. Indeed, to begin cultivating an air of mystery, there should be few interviews at all.

Hutchins, who was at that time working on the New Musical Express, was spot-on in his perception. He arranged a meeting with Gordon Mills and put forward the new strategy, after which he was taken on for the initially small sum of £25 a week. While the change in image was to work magnificently, at the same time, it had a huge effect on Tom’s marriage, for again Linda was edged out of the picture and this time she stayed in the shadows. Indeed, many people believe the reason she has become so reclusive is down to those early days when it was put to her that public knowledge of Tom’s marriage would hold him back. According to some sources, it is a message that not only has she never forgotten, but she continues to act on to this day.

Certainly, Hutchins’s strategy could not have been better for Tom’s career. The cosy home shoots became a rarity, while he adopted a far more overtly sexual image than ever before. There were several different stages to come before he finally found the niche that he was to occupy for the next four decades, but the stage had been set for the rise and rise of Sir Sex Bomb, an image he maintains to this day.