Shirley

by Burgess, Muriel

  At the beginning, the couple’s wedded bliss continued unabated. Shirley said, ‘When I lived in Britain I was always Shirley Bassey and always on show. In Lugano I am Mrs Novak and just loaf around, casually dressed and without make-up – and nobody bothers. Sergio has made me contented and secure and it is about time I was. After all I have been in show business since I was seventeen.’ She added that she would be content with growing older out of the spotlight.

  For the first time in her life Shirley was taking vacations. She learnt to ski at Christmas time in the Alps. The children were naturals and whizzed up and down the nursery slopes like veterans. Not only did they go to Cortina in the Alps in winter, they went to the Italian beaches in the summer where Shirley played on the sands with the children. She did all the things she’d never done before, which Sergio now encouraged her to try: tennis, boating, water-skiing. Occasionally she’d have a bitter memory of her childhood, of the slag heaps and the docks of Tiger Bay where children used to play with bits of wood, pretending they were canoes, and of the love she needed but never found enough of.

  At last she belonged to a proper family, with a loving husband and children, and more money than she could ever spend. She could enjoy the fruits of her career. But despite all this, there were moments she continued to value, and to need, when thousands of people she didn’t even know applauded her concerts and screamed, ‘Shirley, I love you.’

  16

  MY HUSBAND – MY MANAGER

  IN 1970 SHIRLEY’S self-inflicted exile ended. She told the waiting journalists that she had celebrated her return to London with a bottle of champagne on the flight over. Sergio said a few words about his new role in Shirley’s life, how every woman really wanted the man in her marriage to be the most important partner. He did not tell them that Shirley often found the Italian male culture hard to accept. Shirley had been warned in the past of giving her career to the man she loved, but Shirley was too happy to remember. Yes, said Shirley, she was going to continue living in Switzerland and they were hoping to build a home on the banks of Lake Lugano, it would be called Villa Capricorn.

  Meanwhile at Television Centre in White City, the BBC staff and management were all agog. Shirley Bassey was back and her Italian husband was now her fully fledged manager. Round the building floated the words of the management: ‘Can you believe it? He must be the luckiest man in London. From hotel desk to manager of an international singing star!’

  Everyone was intrigued, watching and waiting to observe this unusual marriage. In Cannes in the early Seventies Bernard met the couple again and he noticed the change in Sergio. He was no longer the wide-eyed young man hypnotised by the glamour of a big star, he’d also discovered the hard slog involved. He was definitely more self-confident, perhaps a little more brusque, but was still very likeable.

  Shirley was now in her thirties but improving all the time, and working as hard as ever. Rose Neighbour, a dresser from the BBC had often worked with Shirley and admired her very much, ‘Shirley,’ said Rose, ‘is one of the few entertainers who gives as good a performance during the rehearsal run-through as she does for the televised show.’

  The BBC were doing a series of shows in Stockholm, presenting the talents of the Young Generation, a group of dancing youngsters. For every show, a big name star such as Petula Clark or Cliff Richard made a guest appearance. This time, when Rose Neighbour went along as dresser, the star was Shirley Bassey.

  ‘I was a bit worried about Shirley,’ recalled Rose. ‘Sergio had a group of Italians with him, either family or friends, and they seemed to have come along for a treat. They would sit in Shirley’s dressing room and chatter away in Italian. I thought this must disturb her although she never made any complaint.’ Rose went on to say, ‘It was all very different from the old days at Television Centre when there was an absolute rule that no one should bother her before a performance. It was essential that Shirley had peace and quiet. I knew she wanted to sit there quite alone gathering her strength for the show. Then, my God, she’d go out there and blast apart the studio with her wonderful performance.’

  The veto to keep out of Shirley’s dressing room applied to everyone. On one occasion, Bill Cotton, Jnr, the managing director, wanted to talk to Shirley just before a performance. ‘Rose,’ said Shirley, ‘tell him to piss off.’

  ‘I’m not going to do that,’ said Rose indignantly. ‘He’s my boss. You tell him yourself.’

  ‘Right,’ said Shirley. ‘Bill,’ she yelled, ‘piss off!’

  Another person thought that Sergio didn’t always understand the strict code of not interfering with musicians and other artists before a performance. Steve Crowther was a member of a group in the same concert as Shirley. He recounted how ‘This Italian husband was driving us mad saying he didn’t like this sound or those notes, making out he knew more about the music than us, the professional musicians. There was a bust-up, and Shirley was very angry with Sergio for upsetting us all.’ The gossip was that in the Novak household all was not always sweetness and light.

  But Sergio did learn all about recording contracts, and Shirley’s records were big business in Europe, especially in Italy and France. The Italians loved her singing their Italian songs, though they thought it was more ‘simpatico’ when she sang them in English.

  Way back in 1968 Shirley had recorded ‘La Vita’, by Newell, Cantona and Amurri, in Italian. Then, with new English lyrics written by Norman Newell, she sang the song as ‘This is My Life’ at the San Remo Festival and, although it did not win, it turned out to be one of the greatest hits in Shirley’s repertoire.

  In 1970, when Shirley was able to return to England, she had another hit, ‘Something’ by Beatle George Harrison. She heard the song for the first time in the late Sixties in America, sung by Peggy Lee on the Ed Sullivan TV show. She said, ‘I just caught the end of Peggy’s performance. I was knocked out of my mind. I have to record that number, I told myself. Everyone explained it was not worthwhile because the Beatles had had such a hit with it. We went ahead anyway.’ It was the first time she had been in an English studio for two years, and it turned out to be one of her very best recordings. ‘First it was to be an album track,’ said Shirley, ‘then it came out so good, it had to be a single.’

  The ‘Something’ album turned out to be one of the finest ever made by a female recording star. It became the best-seller of her recording career so far. In Shirley’s opinion, ‘The recording of the “Something” album was a major turning point for me. You could even say it made me a pop star.’

  Apart from ‘Big Spender’ Shirley hadn’t been in the charts for some time but this was the breakthrough that put her back there.

  Although ‘Something’ was a big hit – it reached number four in the British charts, it didn’t reach the magical number three, which would have meant she had beaten the Beatles with one of their own singles. However, it did earn her a fifth silver disc.

  Things could not have been better for Shirley’s first homecoming after her two-year absence. She couldn’t stay too long, the bookings had to fit in with the days allowed – but a record-breaking two weeks at the Talk of The Town showed she was as popular as ever. On her final bow in the early hours, the cast of the American rock musical Hair leaped on to the stage armed with flowers for her. Shirley joined in their song ‘Aquarius’, before leading them all off the stage for a champagne celebration.

  She promised to come back in November for ten concerts, beginning at the Royal Festival Hall in London and ending in her home town, Cardiff. This was to be the way her life would be programmed from now on. An international concert artist moving from continent to continent, following in the footsteps of the greats – Garland, Sinatra, Streisand, Ella Fitzgerald, Tony Bennett, Lena Home – whose ranks she had now indisputably joined.

  No one had forgotten her, everyone was glad that she was back in the top twenty charts. She recorded another great hit with ‘Yesterday When I Was Young’ by Charles Aznavour and Herbert Kretzmer, t
hen, in 1971, came ‘Diamonds are Forever’ by ‘Goldfinger’s’ John Barry.

  Back home in Lugano once more, Shirley was having a well-earned rest and taking the odd Italian lesson. Her two children were already fluent in the language, and even Thelma the nanny now spoke Italian. Years later, Shirley still talked of how much she appreciated the peace and tranquillity of Lugano.

  She even looked forward to the winter and the Christmas break because she could go ski-ing. She says, ‘I love ski-ing. It’s the only sport that I don’t mind getting up at nine in the morning for.’

  It must have made for an easier existence having Sergio, her husband and her manager with her to look after all the tiresome details of travel, contracts and foreign managements. Easier perhaps, but, as the years went by, Shirley who had a touch of the natural ‘loner’ about her began to feel that the constant presence of one man, combing both functions didn’t, after all, add up to the perfect existence.

  The Royal Variety Performance in 1971 had been very successful. Shirley was a hit. She wore a gown so revealing that the millions watching her on television must have wondered how it stayed on. ‘People want glamour from their entertainers,’ she has said. ‘I’m from the old school of entertainers who believe you have to make an impression on your audience. They don’t want to see you in any old dress.’

  To the press Shirley, and, especially, Sergio, were insisting that she was a happy woman with a happy marriage, but people were noticing that sometimes man and wife were a continent apart – as, indeed, they were that evening in London after the Royal Variety show, when Shirley belted a waiter in a restaurant. ‘If someone goads me,’ said Shirley, ‘the tiger in me still comes out.’

  After the show Shirley and a girlfriend had gone to supper in what Shirley described as ‘a frightfully chic place. I ordered smoked salmon and asparagus for my main course. The smoked salmon arrived after a long wait, then there was another long wait but no asparagus. I complained to the waiter. He was rude then started walking away. “Just a moment, I haven’t finished,” I told him, then I belted him.

  ‘I never got my asparagus,’ admitted Shirley, ‘but I got some satisfaction from slapping that waiter.’ That night Shirley was wearing a gold fertility emblem given to her by Luisa Moore, who was then the wife of Roger Moore. ‘It hasn’t done me much good,’ she said ruefully. ‘I haven’t had a son so far.’ Young Mark, the nephew she had adopted, helped in easing the pain and disappointment of her miscarriage in Australia, but Shirley, who loved having children, always regretted having no son, and no child with Sergio.

  In the mid-Seventies Shirley went to Paris to sing at L’Espace for a week. She had never really taken to Paris, but this time she was given the full red-carpet treatment, and the French paid due homage to a beautiful woman as only they can. She was admired, compliments were showered upon her, and every night for a week le beau monde came to listen to her sing.

  Couturier Pierre Cardin a friend of Bernard’s, had, as a hobby, created an exclusive theatre where only the most talented and attractive performers were invited to appear. If you sang at L’Espace in the Seventies you were well rewarded.

  Shirley had been persuaded by Bernard to accept the engagement. Her opening night was a major triumph and, afterwards, Pierre Cardin entertained a large party of guests at Maxim’s in Shirley’s honour. There, she was surrounded by admiring Parisians toasting her success with champagne. She changed her mind about Paris and decided that she loved it.

  She loved the money she earned and Paris was the place to spend it. Shirley had always loved perfume and beautiful clothes and had longed, since she was a young girl, to be the epitome of elegance. Now she could afford it. She sat in the place of honour at the House of Balmain, whose legendary directrice, Ginette Spanier, made a fuss of her; She went to Christian Dior, where she was told that her ‘taille’ was superb and that any of the Master’s creations would be perfect on her. She bought the kind of exquisite and delicate shoes she loved at Chanel and chose her perfume at Balenciaga. She was pampered more than she had ever been before and very happy.

  Afterwards she wrote to Bernard, telling him how much she had loved Paris and the charming Parisians. She added that she and Sergio were starting a tour of Japan in October, followed by a European tour in November to Holland and Belgium and then Paris again. The following week she was off to record in London, before taking a trip to Sardinia.

  While the Villa Capricorn was being built on the Via Campione at Lake Lugano, Shirley and Sergio had bought another summer holiday villa at Sardinia. Sardinia was suddenly the place to be, full of beautiful people and splendid yachts.

  Bernard read between the lines of Shirley’s postcard and knew that it wasn’t as easy as she made it look. The type of touring that Shirley was undertaking was often soul destroying, completely exhausting. For someone of her slim physique it played havoc with her health. Tempers grew short, rows blew up. Whatever happened, there was always the pressure of the next performance in the next major city, where she must yet again appear relaxed and completely in control.

  And Sergio, too, could be having a hard time.

  When Shirley returned to Paris – this time for a week at the Theâtre des Champs-Elysées – Bernard thought it might be a good opportunity to introduce her, at long last, to Marlene Dietrich. They’d always been interested in each other’s careers, although Marlene was forty years older than Shirley. Marlene lived opposite the Hôtel Plaza Athenée, and the theatre where Shirley was to appear was just around the corner from there. A meeting could not be left much longer for Marlene was deteriorating fast; she’d soon be in a wheelchair and then she would allow nobody to see her.

  All the parties agreed and a time was set for tea at the Plaza before Shirley’s evening performance. She and Sergio arrived at the arranged time, Sergio dashing in a new raincoat he had just purchased at Pierre Cardin. Shirley admired the elegant garment and said airily, ‘I’ll give it to you for your birthday.’ Bernard sensed that all was not too well with them. There was a slight feeling of one partner reminding the other who held the purse strings.

  Then came a telephone call for Bernard. Dietrich had decided she didn’t have the strength to put on her make-up, without it she could not come. ‘Give my apologies to your Shirley.’ She had chickened out, probably, thought Bernard, because of an older woman’s jealousy of the young and successful one.

  Disappointed, the three of them had tea and ate English scones until it was time for Shirley to go to the theatre. Whether it was because she was annoyed with Marlene and Bernard, or just annoyed with her husband, she said to Sergio, ‘Get me a vodka first.’ Bernard watched Shirley knock back the alcohol and was worried that she felt she needed a drink before a performance. He knew it wasn’t a good idea even though he did it himself. In the old days Shirley would have scoffed at drinking before a performance, but in the old days Shirley did not have a husband at her elbow.

  The marriage between Shirley and Sergio had started so well. On the face of it, all was still well between them but there was conflict now. Sergio could be jealous, and Shirley was usually exhausted after each tour. The child that might have kept them together had not arrived, and the pattern of Shirley’s life remained essentially the same as before, work and travel, travel and work. Often happy, often just like old times, but tempers were increasingly frayed as tensions rose more frequently to the surface.

  It was always a pleasure to come home to Lugano. Thelma was no longer there, but there was a housekeeper, and the two youngest children, Mark and Samantha, were at day school. It was peaceful and quiet and the family was left alone to live as Mr and Mrs Novak and their children. Every time Shirley and Sergio came back from a tour a bit more had been added to the Villa Capricorn, and one of these days it would certainly be finished.

  Sergio finally masterminded the completion of the Villa Capricorn. It faced the lake, with one special glass wall outside Shirley’s bedroom so that she could see out but no one could see in
. Her dressing room, the same size as her beautifully fitted bedroom, was lined with walk-in closets. Over the years she had built up an extensive wardrobe of furs and coats and gowns that she could not bear to part with. Shirley’s bedroom, as in all the homes she owned, was the most magnificently positioned and luxuriously decorated room in the house.

  Shirley’s children were growing up. Sharon, now twenty, had already left home. She had quit her Swiss boarding school when she was eighteen and gone back to London. Her first job was selling couture dresses to the wealthy, but she soon found that this kind of life was not for her; she preferred caring for others which was more worthwhile.

  Sharon was the only one of Shirley’s children who always returned to her roots with the Bassey family. There was a strong bond between Sharon and her former foster parents, Shirley’s sister Iris and her husband Bill, and she would regularly visit them in Cardiff. Naturally she would also spend time with Eliza Mendi, her grandmother, who was especially proud of her and the work she had chosen. Sharon loved being with small children and had started training as a nursery nurse in Bristol, working in a school. The following year she would take a college course in order to get a full qualification.

  Samantha was now at an expensive Swiss boarding school, but she was having difficulty settling down. Like her mother, she was something of a rebel and didn’t adjust well to school. To a school friend Samantha once confided something about her life. She said that with a famous mother you’ve failed before you’ve even begun because you can never live up to the glamorous image. A lot of people envy you, but what they don’t realise is that you want a Mum and Dad to go home to, a normal easygoing family. Samantha, in fact, wanted and needed something her mother could never give her.