Читать книгу Diamonds Are Forever - Shirley Bassey - Mary Long - Страница 11

Like every good fan I would be off to the record store whenever I heard or read of a new Shirley Bassey release. As well as singles (45s), record companies also released EPs, an abbreviation for ‘extended play’, which usually contained four tracks instead of two, on a disc the same size as a single. I did not always buy them because sometimes an EP would be compiled from a combination of previously issued material. One new track, however, was usually sufficient to get me hooked and I would purchase the disc, to the delight of the record company, I’m sure.

Following the success of ‘I Who Have Nothing’, which put Shirley in the Top Ten of the pop charts, Columbia released ‘My Special Dream’, soon to be followed by ‘Gone’, in an attempt to establish another big hit. Unfortunately neither of these songs, in my opinion, was going to be as successful as ‘I, Who Had Nothing’. They lacked that something special, in spite of Shirley’s excellent performance. However, a fan wants anything ever recorded, so I bought both singles and enjoyed my form of karaoke, prior to its invention. I would sing-along with Shirley, in our front room at home, until I had learned the lyrics and phasing of each tune, to perfection. Personally, I thought we made a great duo but whether Mum, Dad and the neighbours were of the same opinion hearing our free ‘concerts’ is another matter.

The year 1964 was proving to be a rather topsy-turvy one for Shirley, with illness causing her to spend a short time at The London Clinic. Whenever I read such news in the tabloids, I would be off to the shops to buy a lovely get-well card for Shirley, which I immediately sent. If, after a day or so, no further news was forthcoming from the press, I would phone her management’s office to seek information on her progress. Occasionally, I phoned the clinic direct, prompted by my feelings of a need to know that Shirley was well.

I know many, many fans cared and although I recognised the improbability of fans get-well messages reaching Shirley, I do hope Shirley knew, in some way, that we all cared.

Good news soon followed when it was reported in the music press that Shirley would be singing the theme song for the next James Bond movie, to be called Goldfinger. The composer, John Barry, who had toured with Shirley earlier in the year, asked Shirley to listen to the music, even though the lyrics had yet to be written. Hearing that haunting introduction and the melody was enough for Shirley to recognise that ‘Goldfinger’ had that something special and immediately agreed to record the number. John had called upon Anthony Newley and Leslie Bricusse to provide the lyrics, then it was into the studio with Shirley and a mighty sixty-piece orchestra… and the rest is history. Probably not quite as simple as that, but the result was phenomenal. Columbia issued the single, stating ‘Goldfinger’ from the film of the same name, as if we needed to be told. I remember when I first heard that mighty orchestral introduction and Shirley’s first ‘G-o-o-o-l-d finger’, I shuddered. I longed to hear it at the cinema and when the film finally reached our local cinema, Mum, Dad and I sat in awe as Shirley sang, engulfing the audience with the power of her voice, and transporting them into the mind of Goldfinger.

‘Goldfinger’ entered the UK charts and sold reasonably well, but it was America where it’s greatest success was achieved, selling over one million copies and topping the US charts. This success was instrumental in propelling Shirley to a new level of worldwide-star status, and in doing so generating a new legion of fans spread across the entire face of the globe. I was delighted by Shirley’s success, and enjoyed watching the additional guest appearances her popularity had generated on television. However, all this meant we soon had to learn to share Shirley with the world and it was announced she would be embarking on a lengthy tour of America and Australia. But before embarking on a trip across the pond, Shirley had a little shopping to do!

London’s Chester Square was, and still is, one of the best addresses in town and according to press reports at the time, Shirley had recently purchased a property there, which was now being decorated to her specifications.

As a family we would sometimes go to London on a Sunday for a day out, often going for a walk through Green Park or Hyde Park, so on our next visit we planned a detour to Chester Square. It required only a little detective work as only one house in the square had scaffolding outside, so it had to be Shirley’s new home (later this was confirmed, but that’s another part of the story).

I gained a little more information about Shirley’s new house, surprisingly, from a girl in my class at school. Celia (or it may have been Cynthia) and I did not usually share much in the way of conversation but on this particular day, Celia enjoyed telling me about her father who had an important job at Harrison Gibson furniture store, in Ilford. The store was very well known for its range of quality furniture as well as for its building, which housed on the top floor, the Room At The Top nightclub. ‘My dad is meeting Shirley Bassey today,’ said Celia and continued to inform me that he would be advising Shirley about the furniture she would require for her new home. Over the coming days, Celia must have enjoyed watching my face, turning shades of green, as she let out her little snippets of information – the colour of the wallpaper in the drawing room, ‘Shirley’s bedroom is turquoise’ and ‘Sharon’s room is just fabulous’. To be fair, Celia did not disclose any personal information but during those weeks there were times when I wished it had been my dad working for Harrison Gibson.

One day Dad came home with his own little piece of news. He had spoken to a man who had delivered Shirley’s furniture and, he told Dad, Shirley paid £20,000 for the house. Good old Dad had come up trumps! The local newspaper, the Ilford Recorder, also supplied me with news when they reported on Miss Shirley Bassey shopping at Harrison Gibson. I had to visit the store for myself, although at sixteen my interest in furniture was minimal. However, my interest developed immediately upon spotting in the store’s window a lampshade on which hung a brown label that read: ‘Sold to Shirley Bassey’.

Shirley then headed off to America, to be followed by Australia, to capitalise on her well-earned success with ‘Goldfinger’. Back in the UK, fans had the pleasure of a new LP entitled Shirley Stops The Shows, released in January. One of the pieces of information I had been given by ardent fan George Webb was the existence of Shirley’s Record Shop, at West End Lane, Hampstead. The shop, once a book shop owned by Kenneth Hume, had been re-opened by Shirley in 1962. Whenever possible I would order my records through the shop and over time we grew to know the shop’s manager, Michael, quite well. Shirley Stops The Shows had been due for release on Shirley’s birthday but due to a delay in delivery, it didn’t arrive at the shop until the following day, Saturday, 9 January. As I had a Saturday job, Mum and Dad said they would travel to Hampstead to collect the record for me, which was great since I was dying to hear the tracks.

When I arrived home in the evening, Mum and Dad were waiting, LP in hand and with a story to tell. Apparently, when they arrived at the shop they had met Shirley’s sister, Ella. My mum, who was a lovely, sociable person, always enjoyed having a chat and must have been singing my praises because Ella told her she had seen the drawing I had given to Shirley. This of course delighted Mum and I too was thrilled by their encounter.

As the title suggested, Shirley’s latest long player featured show numbers, including, ‘He Loves Me’, ‘The Lady is a Tramp’, ‘Somewhere’ and ‘I Could Have Danced All Night’, the only track recorded with Kenny Clayton and his Orchestra. The rest of the tracks had all been recorded with Johnnie Spence and his Orchestra; the record’s producer was Norman Newell, a master at his art.

One review of the LP, which appeared in the music paper Disc, said Shirley sounded like Judy Garland, which prompted me to write to the paper to agree. I’m sure Shirley would have been happy to read the comparison. The record also featured the black-and-white photography of Barry Lategan, which captured Shirley brilliantly. Kenny Clayton became Shirley’s musical director, remaining with her for some years and I personally think he was one of the best.

While Shirley was abroad, her fans and the rest of Britain were reading about her divorce from Kenneth Hume in the national press. However, the music press offered happier news for her fans, announcing Shirley would be appearing on ATV’s Sunday Night at the London Palladium in April. Now we could look forward to seeing Shirley again, so I immediately sent a letter to ATV to request tickets for Shirley’s appearance, scheduled for 25 April. During February I received tickets from ATV, but when I looked at them I noticed they were for a show only a week or so away. I managed to telephone ATV and they told me to keep the tickets they had sent and promised to add my name to the list for Shirley’s April appearance. Each ticket issued by ATV permitted entry for two people and specified the area of the theatre you would be allocated – stalls, royal circle or upper circle. It was a considerable task for ATV to transform the London Palladium from a theatre into a television studio in one day, which is basically what it had to achieve. With the Palladium’s current production running all week, the TV cameras were set up on Sunday morning, with rehearsals following on during the day. In the side streets at the rear of the theatre, mobile control units were parked and, if a door was left open, you just might catch a glimpse on one of the monitors of what was happening onstage. In the evening, the show would be broadcast to the nation.

Once rehearsals had finished, the theatre was made ready to seat the invited audience, some of whom had already started to queue behind the appropriate bus-stop-style signs, which read either stalls, royal circle or upper circle. Tickets did not have an allocated seat number, so it was a case of first come, first served, which meant it was possible to get front-row seats if you were at the front of the queue.

We loved going to the London Palladium, so in February we joined the queue to see the televised show which featured Kenny Ball and his Jazzmen, Frank Ifield and Petula Clark. It was an enjoyable show and I should have been grateful I guess, but I kept thinking, I just hope we will be here in April to see Shirley.

During early April, I visited Shirley’s Record Shop and bought the EP Live at the Café de Paris, which had printed across its cover the word ‘CENSORED’. Recorded in 1957, it is early Shirley and captures a wonderful moment in her career. I think it’s a fabulous record and I was so delighted I was able to get a copy. I also bought Shirley’s new single release, ‘No Regrets’, which received very good reviews and sold reasonably well. The shop manager, Michael, had also applied for tickets to the Palladium TV show and said if he was allocated some, he would give me one. A few weeks later I received a ticket for two from ATV and fortunately Michael was also able to provide me with a ticket, which meant Mum, Dad and I would all be there so support Shirley on her return to London’s most famous stage.

News of Shirley’s return home came during the second week of April along with an announcement in the New Musical Express that S.V.B. Ltd was presenting a series of concerts featuring Shirley Bassey. No prizes for guessing what S.V.B. stood for, but I’ll give you a clue: the V is for Veronica! A list of venues and dates were supplied, so I immediately took out my Parker 51 pen (a recent birthday present from Mum and Dad) and wrote to the Guildhall, Portsmouth, requesting tickets for the concert scheduled for 30 May.

A few days before the London Palladium appearance, I went to Romford to buy a special box of chocolates, which I was hoping I could give to Shirley when she arrived at the theatre on Sunday, and naturally I had to buy gold wrapping paper for my gift.

On Saturday, a lovely colour photo of Shirley appeared in ‘TV Times’, a weekly television magazine, which I immediately transferred to my scrapbook. As you can imagine, I was very excited about the next day as the London Palladium offered a good opportunity to see Shirley prior to the show. The big day arrived and after a hearty breakfast, Dad drove us to London, parking the car fairly near to the theatre, a feat that would be impossible today. In the sixties, the streets of London were normally quiet on a Sunday, and even the famous street opposite the backstage entrance to the Palladium, Carnaby Street, was relatively quiet. As we walked towards the stage-door area, where a small group of people had gathered, we recognised some of the faces, fans of Shirley we had seen at previous concerts. There were other unknown faces, some of which belonged to the ‘autograph hunters’, who were solely there for the purpose of collecting an autograph to add to the trophy list. I never had a great deal of respect for the latter group mainly because some were demanding and showed little respect for the artist.

We spotted George Webb, who told us they were expecting Shirley for rehearsals soon. It was good to know other fans, especially on these sorts of occasions when one of us would act as a ‘lookout’ at the corner of the street, shouting out to the others when they saw Shirley’s car approach. Soon the call came and the small group of loyal fans surrounded her car as it drew up to the edge of the pavement. Shirley looked radiant in a full-length, V-neck coat, to which had been fastened a gold brooch depicting two cats seated side by side. Shirley’s secretary, Hazel, carried Shirley’s dresses, which were protected in suitable covers.

To our great delight, there was another passenger in the car – Shirley’s daughter, Sharon, who seemed a little shy when we first said hello. I am sure the day must have been just as thrilling for Sharon, going to see her mum rehearse at the London Palladium, as it was for us. Then we spoke to Shirley and I told her how nice it was to see her again, gave her my gift and added, ‘We shall be at the show tonight.’ After thanking me for the gift Shirley said, ‘That’s good, we will see you later’, then they all made their way into the theatre. We went off, ecstatic, to the nearby café for a cuppa and to chat with other fans. We would talk about future concerts we planned to attend, record releases and television performances; in fact we would chat about anything as long as it was linked to Shirley Bassey.

Always the true professional, it never usually took Shirley long to rehearse, but for a television appearance a few additional aspects had to be considered, for example the colour of the dress or whether it would reflect too much sparkle under the television lights. While we waited outside the theatre fans would often speculate about the dress Shirley would wear – would it be gold, silver, or maybe pink? One thing was fairly certain: it would be a Douglas Darnell. Douglas was born in London in 1933. Although self-taught, he became a successful couturier and was the man behind the ‘Darnell of London’ label. Stars flocked to seek his creations. For more than fifty years he created stunning stage gowns for Dame Shirley, who later described his talent as ‘magic’.

We returned to the backstage area mid-afternoon and were pleased to learn that Shirley had not left the theatre. It was a lovely sunny afternoon and we waited for signs of movement from the stage door. Then slowly the door began to open and Shirley walked out into the small group of people waiting to catch a glimpse or looking for an autograph. Sharon and Hazel followed closely and I was delighted to see Sharon carrying the chocolates I had given to Shirley earlier. A few people obtained Shirley’s autograph and Dad asked if he could take some photos, to which Shirley agreed. He took a few shots while Mum chatted and wished Shirley all the very best for her evening performance. Shirley seemed very happy chatting with us and I like to think she recognised she was amongst people who were solely there to express their love and appreciation of her.

In a few hours we would be able to show our appreciation by offering our greatest gift, applause, but first we had to queue behind the sign marked, ‘Royal Circle’, which had been positioned outside the front of the theatre. To be at the front of the queue meant excellent seats, but we would need to remain in the queue for an hour to an hour and a half before the doors opened. Of course it was worth it.

The theatre doors opened and we were directed up the staircase to the royal circle where we headed towards our seats at the front. With the television camera nearby, the seats didn’t get much better than this and I was reminded of the first time I had seen Shirley, from these very same seats. We knew that even if Shirley didn’t see us, when the lights went up, without a doubt she would hear us. It took a little time for everyone to be seated and then the initial warm-up with the audience began, during which those butterflies of mine took off for their journey. I find all shows drag a little when you are waiting to see the last act, but we enjoyed playing ‘Beat-the-Clock’. This was a game that took place in the middle of the show, in which members of the audience were selected to take part. They were given a task which they had to complete within an allocated time, which ticked away on a large clock, hence the name. Thinking back, it all seems a little silly now but the game was a fundamental part of a show which, at its peak, achieved TV audiences of 20 million viewers.

Once ‘Beat the Clock’ had finished the curtain closed in preparation for the finale. If you were sitting at home watching the show on television, the adverts would appear before the cameras finally switched back to the London Palladium. The show’s compère, who I believe on this occasion was Norman Vaughan, took to the stage and probably told a few jokes before introducing Britain’s very own international singing star, Miss Shirley Bassey. I have forgotten the introductions over the years, but the sound of the audience welcoming Shirley home has remained with me. Like me, the audience just wanted to hear Shirley sing and be a part of the magical experience her performance could generate.

We were treated to five songs that evening, one, ‘The Name Game’, about a game of variations with a name, had been a big success for Shirley Ellis, who wrote the song with Lincoln Chase. This unusual choice showed Shirley’s sense of fun along with her ability to make any song her own. The audience loved her cheeky interpretation, rewarding her with laughter and loud applause. My favourite song that evening was the fast tempo number, ‘You Better Love Me While You May’ and although I had told myself I should remain seated as we were on television, I rose to give Shirley a standing ovation. I was not alone; other members of the audience, including Mum and Dad, joined in the cheering. The lights went up, lighting the entire audience, as Shirley looked towards us and acknowledged our applause. We were convinced she had recognised us and cheered even louder as the curtain finally fell. It had been a fabulous day and, yes, Shirley wore a lovely pink dress!

I should have stopped dreaming during the weeks ahead as I had exams to take at college, but I didn’t. My results weren’t very good but this was partly expected since I had chosen to study sciences, subjects not taught at the girls’ school I had attended. However, I must have acquired some information during my college course, because I made an impression at an interview held in the physics department of Queen Mary College, University of London. The next day I was offered the full-time position of junior laboratory technician, although one day a week I would be attending Paddington Technical College, in London, to study for job qualifications. I was delighted to accept the offer and looked forward to starting work in September.

Back in May, work had not been on my mind as I waited for the postman every morning, hoping our tickets for the Portsmouth concert would soon arrive. After a few days an envelope dropped on the mat, which I hastily opened to discover three tickets, numbered A13–A15, had been reserved for us. ‘Front row, front row,’ I called out. What magic.

The day finally arrived. Dad found driving along the A3 to Portsmouth on a Sunday a pleasure. Although we didn’t know the route very well, I had become a fairly good navigator during the last year, so armed with my road map, Dad happily trusted me when I called out the necessary directions. However, on our journey down to Portsmouth, neither of us realised how important map reading and my directions would become during our journey home.

The Guildhall at Portsmouth, an impressive building in Guildhall Square, was probably Hampshire’s biggest concert venue and is still used today for a wide variety of performances. I remember the stage-door entrance, accessed by climbing a few steps, as very tiny. I found the rear of the building rather cold, preferring the ‘backstage atmosphere’ of the Winter Gardens, Bournemouth. Yet even today, when I find myself on a train to Portsmouth Harbour and I spot the stage-door entrance shortly after the train leaves Portsmouth main station, the memories of those wonderful concerts Shirley performed at the Guildhall come flooding back.

That Sunday in May, we waited to welcome Shirley on arrival. During our wait we had spoken with fans then, following Shirley’s arrival, Dad spoke with her chauffeur about the journey from London. I remember feeling it a little odd when I heard him ask Dad what make of car we owned. He then said jokingly, ‘I’ll look out for you in my mirror on the way home, and then you can follow me.’ I assumed this related to Dad not being sure about the route through London and thought no more about it.

As we entered the theatre that evening, I was feeling very excited and rather special as I took my seat in the front row of the stalls. Trying to control my excitement didn’t get any easier even with Mum and Dad by my side. Seating so close to the stage probably made my nerves even worse but I wouldn’t have changed my seat for the world. The first half of the show featured Cyril Stapleton and his Showband, with vocalists Ray Merrell and Peter Wynne. The band, compiled of well-established musicians who frequently played on radio and TV, presented a good programme of music ideally suited for the first half of the concert.

During the interval you could feel the atmosphere building as people returned to their seats. Lights dimmed, the orchestra started to play and someone offstage was heard to say through the speakers, ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome the Fabulous, Miss Shirley Bassey’. Maybe not the exact words, but I am sure you get the picture! The spotlights rained down and suddenly right in front of me in a gorgeous, sparkling gown, stood Shirley. Smiling, acknowledging the applause, she looked directly at me and went into song. ‘You’d Better Love Me While You May’, ‘Please Mr Brown’, ‘If Ever I Would Leave You’, interspersed with heart-rending ballads like ‘Fools Rush In’, ‘Who Can I Turn To’ and her new single release, ‘No Regrets’. I, along with the rest of the audience, was under her spell and remained captivated throughout the evening. People rushed closer to show their appreciation; nobody wanted Shirley to leave the stage. At that moment, her right arm was reaching out towards my applauding hands; I reached forward and held her hand gently with both hands, quite overwhelmed with emotion. Sitting back in my seat for the final number, I watched and listened in awe, then reminded myself, again and again, that I had just shaken hands with the Fabulous Shirley Bassey.

The journey home turned into a dream when half an hour into our journey we were overtaken by a black limousine. ‘It’s Shirley, Dad, follow her,’ I cried out. Fortunately at that time on a Sunday, there was very little traffic, so Dad followed at a safe distance, although I don’t think he was as positive as I that Shirley was in the car. As we approached the city I thought it unlikely we could stay close but the gods were good, traffic lights stayed green when we needed them and surprisingly both cars seemed to catch the red lights together as well. Once or twice Dad said we would probably have to let them go, yet somehow we remained joined right up to the door of Shirley’s new home in Chester Square. The limo pulled up outside and Shirley and her assistant exited the car just as we passed. Unwinding our passenger windows, Mum and I waved and quietly called out, ‘Goodnight Shirley and thank you for a lovely concert.’ Shirley, who didn’t seem surprised, turned and waved, before saying ‘Goodnight.’

As we drove home, Mum and Dad said they were sure the chauffeur must have told Shirley we were following, but knowing who we were, we think she may have enjoyed being part of our little adventure. After all, we were living in the world of James Bond and Goldfinger.