Don't Stop Believin'

by Olivia Newton-John

  Intimidating? It was beyond. I was the ant and he was the anteater, or maybe I was the meat and he was the lion. There was no if, ands or buts about it: I was making money for him and he didn’t want to let me out of my contract. He said that I owed him additional albums and would never release me until he got them. ‘He was generally nice to Olivia,’ John remembers. ‘He was never angry or threatening, but it was pretty clear that he was in control and wanted those albums.’

  I’ll never forget his huge black-framed glasses which made his eyes look really big.

  I walked out of the room crying because I was so mortified about the meeting. ‘I gave Olivia a lot of credit for having so much strength,’ John says. ‘She’s not an aggressive person, or litigious. But I learned one thing about Olivia on that day. She doesn’t back down. She doesn’t want trouble, but she’s not afraid of it.

  ‘The next day, they filed a lawsuit,’ John adds. In the end, we went to court, losing the first case, but pushing on until the California Court of Appeals changed the verdict and we won. ‘The case was ground-breaking for all artists,’ John says. ‘Olivia was able to keep all her masters and own her next album and every single one since we won that suit.’

  That was my first nasty experience in the business and I decided I’d let John handle it all in the future.

  He was right that I wouldn’t back down, though. I’m proud that my case changed how record companies crafted recording contracts. Instead of basing them upon the number of years, it would now be about the number of albums required from an artist.

  The lesson was: you can’t go around a problem. You have to go through it.

  And sometimes you have to go a little . . . crazy.

  Once when I was on tour with Paul Williams, we travelled on a private jet to each gig. One crazy night, Paul and I (with my nice-girl image) got into the worst whipped cream fight at 35,000 feet and we made a gigantic mess. I’m sorry we did it, but there are times when you just lose it! Later I heard that someone asked, ‘Who was on that plane? Led Zeppelin?’

  ‘No,’ they were told, ‘Olivia Newton-John.’

  Embarrassing!

  One of the interesting parts of fame is that you get to meet so many actors and musicians that you admire and look up to. I met so many stars over the years, including Clint Eastwood when I did a photo shoot on his ranch in Carmel, California. He came to my trailer with his little daughter on his hip, which was quite endearing. Clint made my day because he was so delightful.

  Another big star who was kind to me was Jack Nicholson. I met him when I was filming a special in Aspen with John Denver. I’d see him at a lot of parties and he always gave me a smile and a quick chat.

  I spent a day with Dustin Hoffman when I auditioned for Tootsie. He was really funny and suggested we just walk around one of the neighbourhoods in Malibu. We talked about movies and life, and finally found ourselves walking up a long driveway by mistake. Imagine the homeowner who looked up, saw us and actually did say, ‘Can I help you . . . two?’

  ‘Oh, we’re looking for our lost dog,’ Dustin riffed.

  I was also up for the Richard Gere World War II movie Yanks, but didn’t get that role either. Richard was lovely to me and it was nice to meet him.

  Perhaps one of my biggest star encounters happened at the Cannes Film Festival when I was just in my twenties. I stayed at a beautiful white hotel in that scenic city on the water. One day I was sitting in the tower, where they served a lovely afternoon service. I sat looking at the glistening water as the cool breezes floated over a steaming cup of English breakfast tea. The tea was served on a beautiful silver tray and accompanied by tiny sandwiches and cookies that were delicious.

  I spooned sugar into my cup at the exact moment, in the south of France, the iconic film star Gloria Swanson swooped up those stairs. There she stood in full make-up with a bright silk scarf around her hair and wearing a long, flowing robe with bangles on her wrist. She was absolutely gorgeous, and looking right at me . . . and the tray filled with treats.

  ‘Darling,’ Miss Swanson said as she approached. ‘Don’t eat sugar. It’s poison.’ It’s amazing that she was aware of the health risks of sugar back then, and I should have listened to her. Now, it’s forty years later and I’m finally on a no-sugar diet. I’m a slower learner!

  And then there was Elvis.

  I was really excited to be invited to see The King at the Hilton in Las Vegas. It was a celebrity-packed row with Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Webber sitting next to me on either side. During the show, Elvis shocked me and sang my song ‘Let Me Be There’. It blew me away to hear him say my name, because I was such a big fan. After the show, I went backstage to meet him and got another big surprise. Doris Day was there too – I’ve always adored her. Doris was warm and welcoming, but sadly I never met Elvis up close and personal. His road manager said there was an emergency and Elvis had to leave the building.

  Literally!

  I did hear later that Elvis told others that he was the one who told me to record ‘I Honestly Love You’. Not true. We never spoke! But I’m still so knocked out that he said my name.

  I met some of my comedy icons when I hosted Saturday Night Live in 1982. I was the first host who would also sing that night. I’ll never forget doing a sketch called ‘Olivia Newton-John goes to the john’, where a fan encounters me in the loo. (Shades of real life since it has happened to me several times!) I had met Gilda Radner in the past and now Eddie Murphy. They were nice to me and it was a rush to go live from New York City.

  One of my most eye-opening celebrity encounters happened in an elevator in Japan when I was on tour and ran into Cat Stevens. I glanced over at this very handsome man with long, dark hair and a beard, wearing a gorgeous velvet shirt and beautifully tailored pants. We said hello and he graciously invited me to his show that night.

  I couldn’t believe the Cat who walked out on stage in torn jeans and a white, grungy t-shirt – so different from the elegantly dressed man in real life.

  That’s show business.

  I’ve even been fortunate enough to meet several US presidents. I was invited to the White House when Ronald Reagan was president and George HW Bush was vice president. I was privileged to take my mother and sister as my guests because usually you’re only allowed one person. It was an amazing experience made even better because we were together. I went to the White House again many years later when George HW Bush was president and I was invited to sing at the annual Christmas program. I had Rona with me this time. It was very exciting to line up before the show to meet the President and First Lady.

  ‘Oh, so good to see you again,’ he said to me. I had met him once before during my Reagan visit, but I was shocked that he remembered since it had been a long time ago.

  It was soon time to shake hands with First Lady Barbara Bush.

  ‘I can’t believe your husband remembered me,’ I said.

  ‘Well, you’re so ugly, dear,’ she replied with a smile.

  I loved her from that moment!

  The President and First Lady were whisked away, and it wasn’t long before the Secret Service approached us. ‘The President has invited you and your family to come to the White House for a drink after the show,’ he said. We were thrilled, and even more so when President Bush greeted us in the lobby of the White House with the stunning black and white checked floors and breathtaking Christmas tree. He had a drink in hand, carefully wrapped in a white napkin. (We’ll never know his drink of choice!) He escorted us personally from his private elevator to the residence where he gave us a tour. It was an unforgettable evening.

  A few years later, Rona and I were in the Qantas lounge in Los Angeles waiting for a trip back home to Australia when a man in a dark blue suit with a small pin in his lapel approached us. ‘President Bush is in the back of the room and he’d like you to join him,’ he said. We did and had a lovely chat with the former president, who was on our flight. He and Rona had several laughs together.

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��Come on board with me. I’ll get you on the plane early,’ he said, which was wonderful. We were escorted onto the plane where we all prepared for the long, fifteen-hour flight. About halfway through the evening, the same man in the blue suit was back. He said to my sister, ‘President Bush asked if you’d like to sit with him.’

  ‘No, thank you,’ said my sister.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I whispered to her.

  But she insisted, ‘I just want to sleep.’

  The next morning, we made sure to say goodbye to him. He turned to Rona and said, ‘I can’t believe you turned down the chance to sleep with the President.’

  Rona lived off that story for years!

  Over the years, I was lucky enough to meet four presidents, including Ronald Reagan, both President Bushes and Bill Clinton.

  Being in show business is a go-go-go lifestyle, but there were moments when I allowed myself to relax and really get away from it all. I remember the first time I vacationed in Hawaii: Rona and I joined a large group of ‘lunatics’ including Sammy Davis Jr, Totie Fields, Carol Burnett, Steve Lawrence, Eydie Gormé, Helen Reddy, and her husband and manager, Jeff Wald. I was new to their group and asked what to wear during our first dinner out together.

  The always helpful Jeff told me, ‘It’s dressy, Liv.’

  Check.

  I showed up in a beautiful, flowing white dress – everyone else was in shorts and t-shirts. I wore heels; they were in thongs! I apologised, yet the next night I actually listened again when Jeff told me to dress casually. Of course, everyone was dressed up. Finally, I got the joke. By the third night, I was ready to tackle this head-on and showed up wearing three layers: nice dress over shorts over cut-off jeans. Ha! Jeff and Helen couldn’t stop laughing.

  The next time I came to Hawaii, Helen and I upped the ante and wore grass skirts with coconut bras and sang ‘My Little Grass Shack’ to a delighted and adorable George Burns when he arrived in the driveway of our hotel. Thank God there wasn’t YouTube in those days!

  Not that I would have cared. I was, and am, always ready to be part of a good laugh.

  And little did I know, the best fun of my life was about to happen.

  Me with my beautiful mother.

  Me as a toddler.

  At age seven.

  I love this shot my dad took of me on a visit with him on my 23rd birthday (1971).

  With my family – (top to bottom) my father, Brin; my brother Hugh; my mother, Irene; my sister Rona; and me. My dad took this photo with a timer!

  My grandfather Max Born (middle row, second from right) at the 1927 Solvay Conference with Albert Einstein (bottom row, middle) and Marie Curie (bottom row, third from left). Seventeen of the twenty-nine pictured were or became Nobel Prize winners. My grandfather was honoured in 1954 for Physics. Max Born and Albert Einstein were great friends. Their correspondence, which my mother translated, spanned forty years and two world wars. In these letters they argue about quantum theory and Beethoven’s music, chat about their families and discuss the tumultuous politics of the time.

  My maternal grandparents, Max and Hedwig Born.

  My class photo at age thirteen – I’m second from the right in the second row down. And first on the left in the same row is my mate Daryl Braithwaite!

  My first singing group, Sol 4, when I was fifteen years old. From left: Denise, Carmel, me and Freya.

  My parents, Irene and Brin, when they were young, in Cambridge, UK.

  Me with Mum and Rona – Newton-John girls!

  My beautiful sister Rona who we tragically lost to brain cancer in 2013. We’ve started a research fund in her name at the ONJ Centre. She is sadly missed.

  I love my siblings! I took this photo of Hugh and Rona – it’s one of my favourites.

  My family have always been there for me, including at the Royal Charity Concert in Sydney (above) and when I received my OAM in Canberra (below).

  My brother Hugh, my sister Sarah, me, my dad’s wife Val, my brother Toby, Dad and Mum.

  With my nephew Emerson (Rona’s son). (Below) Katie (Toby’s wife), Val, Toby, John, me, Fiona, Brett, Tottie (Rona’s children), Sarah and her partner, Heather.

  With my nephew Emerson (Rona’s son).

  My darling Chloe has always been the light of my life, and her dad Matt’s too!

  Nancy and I timed our pregnancies. Not an easy thing to do but we did it! Chloe was born on 17 January 1986, and Colette followed six weeks later on 3 March. The bonds of mother and child and the unconditional love we shared for them made these the best days of our lives.

  Like me, Chloe’s a real animal lover! By the way, the golden puppy in front is the one I gave John! Scarlett is the mother.

  Chloe and I were the first mother–daughter team to have a Billboard #1 Dance Club Song with the renewed version of ‘Magic’, ‘You Have to Believe’. Thanks, Chloe! Thanks, John Farrar!

  Nineteen seventy-one. Chicago. Composers and writers Jim Jacobs and Warren Casey wrote a play about youth culture, girls and greasers, and set it in 1959 at fictional Rydell High School. You might have heard of this place. It was based on the real William Howard Taft School in the Windy City, but it felt like it could have been set in Anywhere, USA.

  The story hit every nerve because almost everyone had lived it. The plot revolved around ten working-class teenagers as they experienced their senior year in high school and were forced to deal with peer pressure, sex, values, love, dancing, and the perennial question: ‘What comes next?’ Followed by the heart-stopping and gut-wrenching: ‘Will we ever see each other again?’

  A wop ba-ba lu-bop, a wop bam boom! That play was called Grease.

  With a knockout rock’n’roll score, the play debuted in Chicago at the small Kingston Mines nightclub, where it was dubbed a bit raunchy, raw, aggressive and even a tad vulgar. It was all of the above – and that was the idea. One journalist wrote: ‘I expect that this thing called Grease will close in four days and we will never hear about it again.’

  But it didn’t close, and, although future productions were tamed a bit, there were still mentions of some very real and poignant issues of the day (or any time period), including teenage pregnancy, bullying, gangs, and that desperate need to fit in and find the one you really wanted. It also featured timeless topics of love, friendship, rebellion, sexual coming of age, and the thin line between the last days of adolescence and emerging adulthood.

  No one thought it would ever be made into a movie – despite the fact that the play not only lived on, but left Chicago and received raves on Broadway and then in London’s West End.

  That, they said, was supposed to be that.

  Cut to 1977 in Hollywood when the biggest movies of the day were Star Wars, Close Encounters of the Third Kind and Annie Hall. Movie musicals weren’t exactly burning up the silver screen like they did in the fifties and sixties, and many considered the art form old-fashioned, something your parents saw when they were teenagers.

  I, on the other hand, always loved movie musicals. The Sound of Music was one of my favourites.

  One quick aside: I was fortunate enough to spend many Sunday evenings in Malibu with Julie Andrews and Blake Edwards for movie nights. These were always beautifully catered family gatherings and a who’s who of wonderful actors and actresses. Their daughter Jennifer became a friend and even played my then-husband Matt’s wife in That’s Life, a movie that Blake directed and starring Jack Lemmon and Julie.

  When I was pregnant with Chloe, I’d go to their house to swim because they had a lovely big pool. Julie was always the most fun, charming and welcoming woman. I loved her and her beautiful voice. I also adored her performance as Mary Poppins. I even took a five-year-old Chloe to meet Julie. I said, ‘This is Mary Poppins.’ Chloe looked up at her quizzically, to which Julie said, ‘That was many years ago, darling.’ Now, I use the same line with young children when they look at me that way. Thanks, Julie, for that classy lesson.

  Now, back to Grease.

  At thi
s same time, on the small screen, a wonderful young actor from New Jersey was becoming a household name with a sitcom called Welcome Back, Kotter. During his summer hiatus from the TV show, he put a lovable, IQ-challenged young man named Vinnie Barbarino on hold and donned a now iconic white suit. He had audiences cheering and wanting to be him as he boogied his way across the floor at the 2001 Odyssey Club in Brooklyn. The music said it all: ‘You Should Be Dancing’.

  When I first met John Travolta, Saturday Night Fever had been filmed but wasn’t released yet, so I had no idea what was in store for him. But it wouldn’t take much more than a few minutes at my house with him to realise I was in the presence of someone who was destined for major stardom and would be one of the greats of our time.

  He was a triple threat – acting, dancing and singing – plus all that charisma and incredible sexy movie-star looks. His sexiness was innocent, but the truth was those gorgeous baby-blue eyes had so much behind them, including great pain. Tragically, he had just lost his beloved girlfriend, actress Diana Hyland, to breast cancer. He remained sweet, open, very sincere and vulnerable.

  Hollywood knew something was brewing for him, and the race was on to figure out who would be lucky enough to work with Travolta next. He signed a three-picture deal with Robert Stigwood, a then 42-year-old Australian impresario who loved to mix movies with music.

  The first movie in John’s deal was actually based on a play that was close to his heart. You see, John auditioned for Danny for the original stage play Grease at age sixteen and didn’t get the lead, which only made him hungry to prove everyone wrong. Perseverance paid off, as he auditioned again and again for many of the roles. Eventually, he was cast in a road company production of Grease in the role of Doody, one of the T-Birds. What I knew about John was when he wanted something, he would stay completely focused. That’s what he always was – as remains. Focus plus talent.