Seven Days in England - May 1971
By: Bill Lewis I was a chauffeur
with Berryhurst Car Hire in London in the early 70's I was given the job, by
the boss, of driving Melanie for a week. Her husband, Peter, accompanied her. I had a
bit of a problem-keeping artists asking for me. I used to take off for the
whole summer spear fishing in the Med. Consequently; those that came into the
UK during that time got a different driver. Ken
Brooker and I worked together for years backing each other up and causing
mayhem on the streets of London. He took
Melanie off me and I took Shirley Bassey off him ! ! ! |
|
Day 1.
As we
approached Stoke-on-Trent where Melanie was to perform, Peter said
"Stoke-on-Trent . . . . . . . . . . that would make a good name for a
pop group" I wonder if it ever did? After the performance (my first time
to hear her) she was ushered out of the back door to where the Rolls Royce
Phantom 5 was discretely (if that's possible with such a vehicle ! ! ! )
parked. Part of
our job was to ensure that the artist was not compromised by crowds. Melanie
had spent the last hour or so surrounded by fans signing autographs. This was
not my concept of what happens after a gig. But
these fans were so polite and quiet . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Magic ! Just as
Melanie was stepping into the limousine with only one young fan by the door
he said with a tear in his voice "Melanie, you didn't sing Ruby
Tuesday" "I'll sing Ruby Tuesday for you" she said and reached
into the car for her guitar. It was zipped up in a colourful knitted case! !
She asked me "Is this OK Bill?" I looked up and down the street
thinking that I would probably regret saying yes. "Sure"
I said "just keep it down a bit" It was after midnight. She sat
on the running board of the car and let rip ! ! ! ! OH MY GOD . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . She really put her all into it . . . . . . It was
beautiful . . . but very loud in the stillness of the night. Windows
flew open . . . . . . . heads looked out . . . . . . . . . . . lots of them,
it was a residential street. I
thought I was in trouble. How could I stop Melanie in mid song without being
nasty? I couldn't so I just listened. As the
song finished the applause started from the heads out of the windows! ! ! That was
my introduction to this lovely lady. Day 3
There was
a fair amount of fuss going on about the inauguration of the Prince of Wales
at Caernarfon. So we
headed that way. Melanie and Peter had a look at the castle and then went
walkabout through the town. They
were a bit surprised to find Melanie's albums to be to the forefront in all
the record shops. Sorry
Melanie. I have to confess. I went ahead of you cajoling the shop assistants
to do this saying that you were on your way down the street. There
were no rooms available in any of the hotels in town due, I suppose, to the
inauguration. I found
one double room in a pub called "the black boy". They managed to
find me an attic room normally used by staff. A warning. When I switched out
the light I saw pinpoints of light on the far door. I looked. There were
holes in various positions on the door opposite where "action"
could be expected in the guest room. ( it wasn't Melanie and Peter's! ) They
enjoyed a bit of pub life sitting in the saloon bar The limo
was parked in the adjoining car park. In the
morning I went to give it a wash as usual. There were some people in dark
suits standing around and looking a bit puzzled. I ignored them and carried
on with my washing. I began to feel watched and a little uncomfortable. There
was a large notice on a post that I had not seen before. I sidled my way
surreptitiously towards it and read that this was an official council car
park. I had absolutely no right to be here. Added to that, the barrier was
now down. Why all the dark suits? And what to do? Aha! I put on my chauffeur
hat and my best "important" stance and waited. Melanie
and Peter came out of the pub and walked unconcerned into the car park. Well
why wouldn't they? I drove slowly past the open mouthed dark suits to the
barrier and honked gently. One of them jumped forward and lifted it looking a
bit bemused. We left. It is
certain in the political climate that existed there at the time that the
council were awaiting the arrival of someone important. This vehicle in the
official car park HAD to be the one they were waiting for. Obviously the
dignitary was attending to some personal needs? Surprise, Surprise. Day 5
We
headed South through the Welsh hills towards Swansea where Melanie hoped to
see the birthplace of Bob Dylan. On a
quiet country road Melanie told me to stop. She had seen a house through the
trees that looked deserted and interesting. I reversed a bit to a board that
showed it was for sale. The two
of them walked up a short drive to have a look. I was a few yards behind. It was a
two-storied red brick house with no other habitation in sight. A bit idyllic
and attractive if you wanted to get away from it all. The
windows were boarded up with planks nailed across them. Melanie pulled at one
corner to see if they were loose so that she could get a peep inside. She
pulled again, just a bit harder. Then a bit harder still! Peter moved forward
to help. They pulled together!! Ooops, it came off. They
poked their heads through the gap. There was no glass in the window. What
they saw must have intrigued them because they proceeded to pull off a couple
more planks laughing guiltily as they did so. I
grinned and walked slowly back to the limo. They were having a great time and
weren't really hurting anybody. After
some time they turned up with three house bricks between them. "Put them
in the trunk please" said Melanie "I love the markings on the
bricks made by the ivy and I am going to incorporate them in my house when I
build it" (They will crop up again) On through the Brecon Hills and the
Welsh mining valleys Melanie and Peter soaked up the atmosphere and talked a
little about their childhood. We asked
around in Swansea and finally located the house where Dylan Thomas was born.
It was a bit of an anti-climax. It is just an ordinary house. But Melanie had
fulfilled one of her ambitions. She did so admire him. A visit
to a local café to try to get a bit of local gossip also ended in three cups
of tea, and us. Day 7
First
job; take a package to the Mayfair Post Office in Queen St. Find out how much
it will cost to send Airmail to the States. Put it
on the scales please sir. They groaned. He checked and double-checked. "What
the hell have you got in that, a house brick?" he said, not realising
that he had hit the nail on the head. How embarrassing
it was to say yes ! ! ! ! (Remember the 3 ivy marked bricks?) "Come on,
stop mucking about I've got work to do" he said I will pull a veil over
the next part of the conversation and just say that I returned with the
information and Melanie prepared them to send. I wonder
if they ever did get used? That
evening Melanie was due to appear at the Festival Hall. She was depressed and
distressed. I know not why. Peter, assisted a trifle by myself, tried to get
her spirits up. He even
sent me out to buy as many roses as I could get. I remember finding a guy
just closing his stall outside the Palladium in Argyle Street. He had bunches
of baby roses. I bought the lot. Melanie
gave most of them out to her fans that evening. At about
7. 45, just 15 minutes before she was due on stage, Peter departed to try to
keep the audience happy until Melanie could compose herself. It was
well after 8. 00 PM before we left the Mayfair with just a short ride to the
South Bank. The concert went off splendidly with half the audience down on
the stage. Not one incident with them being as close as that. Amazing. Only
Melanie fans ever behaved so well at any of the concerts I attended. After
the performance the fans were clamouring at the stage door for her autograph.
Space was a bit restricted there so I got them quiet and told them that if
they wanted an autograph they must pass under my arm. I stood close to the
wall ensuring that they came through singly. It was
all kind of magic. The fans were wonderful and Melanie stood for well over an
hour signing everything including a broken arm! Was that you? The
following morning was just a simple ride to the airport. I like
her music, but the memory of her bubbly laugh and her lovely nature marks her
out as the most pleasant star that I drove. (they number more than 100) |
Day 2
I don't remember where we stayed that
night. It was certainly pre-booked by the record company. They
wanted to tour all of England, Scotland and Wales. In a week??? So they let
me choose. Since we
were already close to North Wales I decided on that. We drove
up to the Snowdon area past slate quarries and tiny villages. Melanie and
Peter were enthralled. I
remember we rounded a sharp left bend to cross a humped bridge over a stream.
The village street, cobbled in the old way, was quite steep up in front of
us. Half way
up was the village store. Melanie asked me to stop. Inside
she saw an old sweet jar high up on a shelf labelled "Jujubes". She
asked the shopkeeper how much it was. "It's
not for sale" he said "I'll give you ten pounds for it" she
said (a lot of money then) He laughed and said "I told you, It's not for
sale" She ran out of the shop to the car and came back with a copy of
her album "The Good Book". "I'll give you this" she said
"Nope" he said and turned to serve a customer. Melanie
was close to tears and Peter couldn't console her. We started to leave. The
shopkeeper called out "just a minute miss" and beckoned her back.
She returned to the counter. He leaned forward turning his cheek and said,
"give me a kiss". She pecked him on the cheek. He gave her the
jujube jar and turned back to his customer. I wonder
if she still has it? We
looked for somewhere to stay. I asked
whether they would consider an ordinary Bed and Breakfast since we were in
the middle of nowhere. They were enthusiastic. Something new. We saw a
sign "Farmhouse B&B" We drove down the muddy driveway to the
farm. Very
surprised at the Rolls Royce Phantom bringing potential guests but
accommodating in the extreme. The
following morning at breakfast Melanie asked if she and Peter could go
walking over the fields among the livestock. No problem. Off they went. Could I
use the hosepipe in the yard to clean the car? Certainly. So there
we were in the middle of nowhere, Melanie and Peter walking off arm in arm
over the fields, in Wellington boots loaned by the landlady, whilst their
up-market transport was being hosed down by the side of the pigpen.
Incongruous! ! I suggested to the landlady that she should charge a little
more for the inconvenience we had put her to. She was adamant that her
charges included all this. Beautiful. I wonder
if the shopkeeper and the landlady will ever read this? Day 4
Melanie
suggested a picnic. So we
went to the local "grocers" shop to buy a few goodies. "Do you
like ham?" she asked. "Sounds good" I said. She ordered half a
pound. That's a lot of ham. "What about beef" she asked. Peter said
"that's good for me" Another half pound. Then tongue because I
happened to look at it and cheese because I didn't. Peter found some salami
sausage and Melanie was busy buying half the shop. Or so it seemed. We left
with enough food for a small army. It was
decided that we would cross over the Menai strait to Anglesey. At a
place where the cliffs were exceedingly high we walked down to the edge of
the grass until we could just about see over and spread out the feast. As you
can guess, one or two sandwiches and we were full up. Melanie
threw a crust of bread over the cliff. A seagull picked it up before it was
out of sight. Hey, that was good! Another piece. They came in hundreds. We
spent the next twenty minutes having fun throwing bits to the birds. Ah well
. . . at least it all got eaten!! And Melanie was having a great time. A few
miles up the road we saw a sign "Antiques" We stopped for Melanie
to have a look around. She fell
in love with a pair of glass lampshades. Beautiful but a bit delicate. She
bought them. They were put in their box in front on the floor since there was
no more room in the boot (trunk). I had no idea how she would get these back
to the States. We drove
around the beautiful countryside. Melanie and Peter were so relaxed and
happy. We
passed a hitchhiker. A girl with a pack on her back. "We should stop and
give her a lift" Melanie said. There
wasn't much room in front with the box on the floor but we managed. The
hitchhiker was a bit clumsy with the extra space needed for her pack. She
couldn't believe that this posh vehicle had stopped for her and when she
found out who it was she freaked out. She claimed to be an ardent fan and
seemed to know all about Melanie. I wonder
if she will ever read this? We dropped her off later and returned to the
"pub" in Caernarfon. The car
was getting so full with stuff that we decided to have a clear out. Yes,
you've guessed it . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The hitchhiker had stepped on
the box! ! Day 6
My
instructions were to find a place called, I think, Home Farm? In Glastonbury.
They had
been talking about holding a festival in one of the more ancient parts of the
old world. We
finally located it and pulled up in front of a low stone farmhouse. A young
lady called out for the farmer. There
were no introductions and I nipped into the kitchen for a cup of coffee with the
young lady. The other three walked slowly off with the farmer (who I now know
was Michael Eavis) doing all the talking. The
young lady asked, "who are they?" I said, "if you don't
recognise her then it doesn't matter" They walked past the window so I popped
out in case they needed anything. Michael
Eavis was pointing down to the bottom of a large field explaining that a
stage would be erected on the far edge to enable more people to see. They
turned and came past me and he started to climb some stone stairs on the side
of the adjacent stone building. He turned his head and said "we are
hoping to get Melanie to come". I glanced at both Peter and Melanie who
showed absolutely no emotion. In order
to stop myself laughing I quickly walked into the kitchen again to finish my
coffee. We had
arrived in a Rolls Royce Phantom the chauffeur in full regalia and the lady
in a Kaftan. Just who DID he think he was talking to? The young lady badgered
me for her name, becoming persistent. After the farce outside I certainly
wasn't going to let on. Just
then Melanie and Peter came past and said that we were going. Just as
I started away the young lady came rushing out of the kitchen shouting,
"It's Melanie, It's Melanie" I smiled and drove on. They had
a bit of a laugh in the back of the car. I
suggested that we stop at the Old Bell at Hurley on the way in to the Mayfair
Hotel in London. It is an ancient coaching inn from the 12th century. A bit
expensive but serving wonderful food. I chose
this because I had taken a few clients there to eat and they all praised it. Besides,
the chauffeur went in the back door and got a slap up meal for himself.
Perks! They waited for me as I parked the car and we walked through the door
together. I assumed they wanted me to introduce them or whatever. The
Major Domo knew me and sort of indicated that he would take over now his
eyebrows told me to go around the back. Melanie
and Peter would have nothing of it. They fought a funny little battle for
supremacy with the Major Domo who, without actually saying it, wanted me out
of there NOW. They didn't serve chauffeurs. He lost. I felt a bit
uncomfortable but soon got stuck in to a fine feast with two lovely people. Back to
the Mayfair. |
Back
to Chronology
Back to Melanie