He easily recognised me as an excited fan and said, ‘We are expecting Miss Bassey to arrive shortly.’ Thanking him, I retreated as gracefully as I could and took up a position by the edge of the gates. I had come prepared for the moment: I had an 8- by 6-inch black-and-white photograph of Miss Bassey in hand, which I had recently purchased, and my biro was at the ready.
I didn’t have long to wait before I heard cries of, ‘Here she comes’ from the crowd, and moments later a large limousine came to a halt at the very spot where I stood. I glanced through the window, then the car door opened gently against me and I was facing Miss Shirley Bassey. ‘Could I please have your autograph Miss Bassey,’ I mumbled. She looked at me and for a moment I thought it was to be. Then Miss Bassey said, ‘If I sign for one, it will be very disappointing for everyone else’, and she was quickly ushered down the steps I had recently trod to the stage door. I know what you are thinking: I must have been disappointed. Well, actually, I was not. I kept thinking about Miss Bassey’s words and realised how disappointed I would have been if she had signed an autograph for someone else. To me Miss Bassey had considered all of the fans waiting to greet her and I respected her decision. I knew then that one day I would get her autograph and I would value it all the more. Right now I was on cloud nine, having seen her up close. I remember everyone around me chatting happily; the air seemed filled with excitement. Gradually, the crowd that had gathered slowly started to disperse, the majority heading to the main entrance of the theatre.
The London Palladium dates back to 1910 and in the sixties it was one of the best-known theatres in the country. As I stepped on the red carpet, climbing the stairs to the royal circle, it seemed magical. The atmosphere sent shivers down our spines and we sensed we were about to experience something very special.
The show opened with Woolf Phillips and his Orchestra, featuring several orchestral ‘standards’ prior to Russ Shepherd, Matt Monro’s musical director, taking over the baton. We were then treated to some fine singing by Matt Monro. Matt was enjoying international stardom, having had hits such as ‘Portrait of My Love’, ‘My Kind of Girl’ and ‘Softly As I Leave You’. However, although my parents and I enjoyed his voice very much, I personally was not ‘blown away’ by watching him perform live onstage.
When it came to the intermission we went to the bar. I was almost sick with excitement, and then I started to worry. Maybe I was expecting too much – when I saw Miss Bassey, what if it seemed no different to watching her on TV! Thankfully, I didn’t have long to consider how I felt; the bell was sounding in the theatre bar indicating it was time to return to our seats. A24, centre front row of the royal circle, placed me directly in line with the microphone which stood centre stage. The orchestra, under the leadership of Shirley’s musical director, Raymond Long (no relation), started to play. Suddenly the 2,000-plus audience, which had been rather reserved during the first half of the concert, broke into spontaneous applause, and standing there before me, onstage, was Miss Shirley Bassey in a glittering gown, her hair up high. Immediately she went into song and that incredible voice we now know so well echoed around the auditorium. I was captivated. Between numbers the audience applauded wildly and I could hear the enthusiasm from my mum and dad, but I dared not look at them. My eyes were firmly fixed on Shirley and I didn’t want to miss one moment. It was magic, and to coin a modern phase, a ‘life changing moment’ for me.
I cannot recall every song sung during that performance – the programme listed eleven – but I do remember two numbers in particular, which were not listed. These were, ‘If I Were A Bell’, which Shirley had recorded with Geoff Love & His Orchestra on the long-playing record, simply entitled Shirley, and ‘Johnny One Note’, which I had never previously heard.
Apart from an incredible voice, Shirley had this unbelievable stage presence. Sometimes criticised for overplaying her arm and hand movements on TV, onstage these movements where highly appropriate and used to perfection. When she sang, ‘If I Were a Bell’, you have the lyrics ‘If I were a bell I’d go ding, dong, ding, dong, ding’. With arms, hands and fingers outstretched, Shirley precisely moved her thumb and forefinger together as she sang ‘ding’. The second finger touched the thumb on the ‘dong’, then the third finger and thumb on the next ‘ding’, returning to the thumb and forefinger by the time the final ‘ding’ was sung. It was magical to hear and watch.
Then came ‘Johnny One Note’, written by Rodgers and Hart in 1937 (the year Shirley was born), for the musical ‘Babes in Arms’. I could not recall the song, or if I had, it did not leave a lasting impression upon me. In 1948 it had been recorded by Judy Garland; in 1956 jazz singers Blossom Dearie and Ella Fitzgerald both made recordings, followed in 1960 by Anita O’Day, so ‘Johnny’ had been around! Right now, before me, however, Miss Bassey was making the song her own. The fast tempo arrangement, the diction which stressed every word of the lyric and that voice, so damn powerful. Yet Shirley had learned the art of control and made it seemed so easy. Although I was only sixteen, I realised it wasn’t just Miss Bassey’s tremendous natural talent on display: She had worked hard during her early years developing into the ‘star’, like no other, we now saw before us. Building up towards ‘Johnny’s’ end, Shirley sang, ‘sing Johnny one note out loud’, holding on to ‘loud’… seemingly forever. The audience erupted, almost raising the London Palladium’s rafters.
Shirley continued to ‘sell’ every song, among them, ‘What Kind of Fool am I’, ‘As Long As He Needs Me’, ‘They Can’t Take That Away From Me’ and ‘What Now My Love’, the latter from her recent LP release entitled, Shirley Bassey with Nelson Riddle and His Orchestra. It seemed all to soon that Shirley exited the stage, but she returned to acknowledge the audience’s ovation, I rose to my feet shouting for more along with my mum and dad and everyone around me. We were rewarded, as I recall, with ‘The Party’s Over’, which made me feel rather sad. More thunderous applause. I am sure if it hadn’t been for the fact that Miss Bassey had another performance later that evening, and the theatre had to be cleared, the audience would have remained there all night, transfixed by what they had just experienced. When the curtain finally dropped, the music started to drift away and the applause gradually faded as we were encouraged to leave our seats. I finally looked at my mum and dad and from their expressions it was clear they were as thrilled as I. However, I did wonder if they felt as exalted! I had clapped and cheered for all I was worth and my watch had actually stopped due to the rigorous wrist movements I had made whilst clapping so enthusiastically.
Perhaps now would be an appropriate time to mention something about the audience, since it mainly consisted of middle-aged, smartly dressed couples. Going to the theatre in the 1960s was a special occasion, people wore there ‘best frocks’, or ‘Sunday best’ as it was called. It would also be correct to describe the audience that night as generally reserved. Indeed, I was very reserved, and somewhat surprised to find myself standing and shouting out for more. A young girl could be forgiven, but surprisingly I was not alone: the majority of this older reserved audience was acting in the same manner. Importantly though, we only let our feelings of appreciation come into play once each song had ended. This audience of the sixties, and for that matter those in later years, listened to every note. There were often times when you could hear a pin drop. I have to confess, I miss that type of audience nowadays and doubt they will ever return. I wonder, if the opportunity were ever to present itself to see Miss Bassey in concert again, I could live with the audience of today. People seem to feel they must show off their own musical talent, which they believe they have, and sing along with the performer. Is this what reality TV has given us! Let’s get back to the sixties,