PomPoms Up!

by Carol Cleveland

  One highlight for me was taking my first helicopter flight. Four of us flew from New York to Philadelphia to appear on The Mike Douglas Show. We landed on and took off from a rooftop – exciting, but a bit scary. The other guests with us were David Soul, Neil Sedaka, Ben Vereen, John Travolta and Margaux Hemingway…. who I did an arm-wrestle with – I don’t remember why! We followed our usual interview format of never giving a direct answer to a question and we managed brilliantly to confuse and mystify all of them, including the audience. When I dared to attempt a bit of seriousness, Terry G once again crept up behind me and put his hands over my mouth. Michael then sat on my lap and Terry J sat on his lap. When we left, they were none the wiser as to what we were all about! But they’d all find out, in time.

  September, 1980…. Monty Python Live at the Hollywood Bowl!

  Well, this was the BIG one…. four nights under a star-lit sky playing to 8,000 fanatical fans a night! We were more than rockstars here – we were simply ‘Stars’! We felt like stars, we were treated like stars and we sometimes acted like stars! The whole experience far exceeded any of our expectations – in a word…. it was awesome!

  But let me go back to the day I first heard the exciting news. I was just getting ready to go out the door to have my usual swim at a Brighton hotel health Spa, when the phone rang. It was the Python’s manager calling to tell me about the show. When I put the phone down I was leaping around the room with excitement! I grabbed my kit bag and went springing gleefully down the hill towards the Brighton seafront, singing to myself all the way, until I reached the hotel Spa and entered the ladies changing room. My head was still spinning as I undressed, shoved my bag into a locker and walked out to the pool area. I’d just reached the edge of the pool when I sensed I’d forgotten something – I looked down and realised I was stark naked! A man swimming in front of me noticed and practically drowned as he did a double take. Not wishing to draw any further attention to myself, I slowly turned and strolled back into the changing room. Then I screamed:

  “I just went out there naked!”

  A lady laughed and said:

  “Well, put your bathing suit on and no-one will recognise you.”

  This was not the first time it had been suggested that I wouldn’t be recognised with my clothes on! She was right though – the guy had his eyes glued to the door, but he looked straight past me when I walked out in my swimsuit and ugly bathing cap. He was still watching and waiting when I left half an hour later and, for all I know…. he may still be now!

  I got that phone call the day before I was due to start rehearsals for the tour of Dirty Linen. I wasn’t worried because the Hollywood show was four months away and I felt confident that the producers could find me a replacement for that short period. They were happy enough to do so, but a month on they still hadn’t been able to find anyone who was willing to do it for just two weeks. It was looking like I wasn’t going to make it to Hollywood after all and I was absolutely miserable! Then, just as I’d given up all hope, they found someone, and now I’m the only actress I know whose UK tour took her from Birmingham to Crewe via Hollywood!

  For me of course there was the added thrill that I was going back to my second home, where all my school chums were and other friends from that period – they were excited too. I was particularly happy to see my best friend, Ginny. She and her husband came to visit me and we sat together reminiscing in the rooftop Jacuzzi of the hotel I was staying at. The swish L’Ermitage Hotel catered for the more discerning customer and was in a quiet area of Beverly Hills away from the maddening crowds. For the first week I had a suite all to myself, but Nigel joined me later and we had the best time together ever.

  Each of the boys had their own limo and if they weren’t using it then I could. One day I had the driver take me to the prestigious Rodeo Drive, where the rich and famous shop. Well, I might have been a bit famous that week, but it didn’t make me rich! I was however able to ‘act’ the part and I played it to perfection. I dressed accordingly and had my driver park in front of the Prada shop. I swanned in, tried on a couple of garments and said:

  “Hum, not sure…. thank you darling” and swanned out again.

  I repeated this at Gucci, Giorgio Armani and all the way down the line of shops. I think my driver was a little surprised that I came back without a single bag. I just smiled and said:

  “I didn’t see anything I liked.”

  Our first night on stage was certainly one to remember. The Bowl amphitheatre actually holds up to thirty thousand people, but eight thousand was a huge enough amount for us! The noise from the audience before we even started the show was almost deafening and there was a lot of ‘whooping’ going on – if I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought we were in Texas. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I peeped at them from the wings – there were rows and rows of ‘Gumbies,’ ‘Pepperpots,’ ‘Hell’s Grannies,’ and gents in bowler hats! In front of them were some open box areas with dining tables laden with wine bottles, beer cans and food hampers – and there was a strong smell in the air of something other than cigarette smoke.

  We’d already experienced having audience members speak our lines for us, but having eight thousand of them doing it all at once was a wee bit disconcerting at first – they all seemed to know every word to every sketch! On the second night we decided that we must do our best to take them by surprise. There was an immediate recognition as the lights came up on the Travel Agent Sketch and they were clearly anticipating my line to Eric, which was, “Hello…. would you like to come upstairs?”

  But, on this night I said:

  “Hello…. would you like a blow job?”

  There was a few seconds of stunned silence before they screamed with delight.

  After that it was just going out there and having fun with the audience – there was more ad-libbing and corpsing than ever now! But admittedly a lot of this was brought on by technical hitches. In one sketch involving all of us a huge ‘Hand of God’ was supposed to come down and point at Eric, but instead it pointed at someone different every night. Also we were wired for sound and we lived in fear of our mikes dying…. especially on the night the show was being recorded. If they died…. we died!

  A couple of songs from the Python record albums were added for the Bowl show, one sweetly entitled Sit on my Face – the boys sang it as a barbershop quartet, wearing long white aprons. At the end of the number they turned sideways and slowly walked off, delighting the audience with a glimpse of bare buttocks – ‘mooning’ of course being a favourite American pastime. I must admit that it rather delighted me too, as this was the first time I’d seen this side of them!

  Neil Innes sang two of his own songs and I accompanied him on stage. These were my favourite moments because they gave me the chance to shine on my own without the Pythons. In one song, How Sweet to be an Idiot, I and two life-sized dummies acted as his backing singers doing the ‘OoooWaWas.’ We had orange curly wigs and wore long red evening dresses. I stood in the middle with my hands hidden inside their backs, pulling the strings that opened their mouths. We must have been pretty convincing because apparently a lot of people who were sitting near the back had asked who the other two ladies were?!

  The other song was Urban Spaceman. While Neil sang I did a terrible tap dance all around him, finishing with a cartwheel and into the splits! The boys allowed me to choreograph the number myself, which I thought was jolly nice of them – I think I’d have to change the ending if we were to do it again though. At the end of the number I refused to leave the stage and just keep tapping, until a giant hammer appeared from behind a curtain and flattened me to the floor! I doubt I could manage that again either.

  One of the best parts of the show was the improvised curtain calls…. that went on forever. The audience just didn’t want us to leave, so we’d do whatever silly things came into our heads – the boys would chase me across the stage, then I’d chase after them, we’d break into a can-can or bow facing to the back, etc. Du
ring all this, all sorts of things were being thrown on stage…. like teddy bears with phone numbers attached, and knickers! There wasn’t one single jock strap for me, alas! Finally a big sign would go up on the screen saying, “PISS OFF!” and we’d leave the audience shouting for more while we headed for the VIP lounge.

  After we got chucked out of the VIP lounge it would be off to a party somewhere. Two of them particularly stick out in my memory. Steve Martin was a big fan of Python and gave us a super party at his Beverly Hills mansion. I was impressed just with the lawn – the grass was about six inches thick and I literally sprang up to the front door! We were ushered into a huge room that more resembled an art gallery than a lounge. It was all white – as indeed the entire house was – with very dim lighting and only a couple of sofas and a few chairs to sit on. The walls were bare except for two or three old master paintings and a tree grew in the middle of the room, disappearing up through the ceiling. It was all very ordinary really!

  I went outside to the pool area to find Michael sitting with his feet in the water and happily humming away to himself as half a dozen nubile would-be starlets desperately tried to gain his attention by leaping in the water and then coming up minus their bikini tops. Oh, poor Michael!

  On another evening we went right up into the Hollywood hills to the very unusual home of Robin Williams. It was built on stilts and had an amazing view of the famous ‘Hollywood’ sign. It was all wood panels and quite cosy and I remember steps going everywhere…. down into the lounge, then up to the kitchen, down the other side to the dining room and up again to the gym. Most of the guests had just been to see the show and while we were helping ourselves to the buffet, I had an interesting exchange with a lady next to me.

  “Oh, that was such a GREAT show!”

  “Oh…. good.”

  “Did you see it?!”

  “No…I was in it.”

  “Oh, YOU were WONDERFUL!”

  Ah, show-business! I concluded she must have been sitting right at the back.

  That evening Michael told me that he thought I should stay in LA for a bit, as there was a lot of interest in me and he was sure I could get work there on the back of our show. I told him that I had to get back to England to re-join the theatre tour. Nigel thought I was crazy to miss this opportunity to make a name for myself in Hollywood and maybe I was, but I didn’t feel I had any choice – people were depending on me to come home. I do sometimes wonder though…. what if….

  November 2002…. Concert for George, Royal Albert Hall, London

  Two months earlier, I’d got a call from Michael, saying….

  “Carol darling…. something has come up and I wonder if it would interest you? We’re going to be doing The Lumberjack song on stage, but it’s for charity so there’s no payment. We’ll quite understand if you don’t want to do it and you’re probably very busy anyway….”

  “What’s it for? Where will it be?”

  “It’s a tribute concert for George Harrison at the Royal Albert Hall. But you don’t have to say….”

  “YES!!!”

  So, having thought that nothing could ever top the Hollywood Bowl experience, here we were again at London’s most prestigious concert hall, where I had sat many times in the audience, never imagining I’d ever actually be performing on its stage – let alone with such a host of show-business luminaries as Eric Clapton, Joe Brown, Paul McCartney, Ringo Starr, Jools Holland, Jeff Lynne and Ravi Shankar.

  George’s presence was definitely felt, especially when his son, Dhani performed with Eric Clapton. Behind them on a screen was a photo of George and Eric playing together and the resemblance was quite uncanny. Dhani, like his father, is such a sweet man.

  During rehearsals I looked behind me at the various musicians warming up and saw that the drummer was none other than my school chum, Jim Keltner! The last time I’d seen him was in California, two years earlier at our 40th High School reunion – small world!

  The only person missing that night was John. I’m not sure why he didn’t join us, but I suspected that it might have had something to do with the fact that the boys would be singing Sit On My Face again and he may not have wanted to bare his bum at the Royal Albert Hall. He’d been there only a few months earlier, walking the red carpet for the premiere of the latest Bond film, which he was in. Maybe he thought Bond and Bums just don’t mix?!

  As it was the song brought the house down! There was seating behind the stage as well as in front of it, so those people were laughing as soon as the Pythons walked on. The main auditorium only got the joke when the boys turned to bow to those behind them. I don’t think anyone had ever ‘mooned’ at the Royal Albert Hall, let alone four of them!

  There was another surprise in store for the audience…. and for me too! I arrived on the performance day and, after checking in with the wardrobe and make-up departments, I went to say hello to the boys. There was a sign on their door saying ‘Monty Python’ and under it someone had scribbled ‘and Tom Hanks.’ I thought, “Oh yeah….I wish!” I knocked on the door and Terry shouted:

  “Come in.”

  I walked in and said:

  “So where’s Tom then?”

  A face appeared from behind the clothes rail and Tom waved and said:

  “Hi Carol.”

  Well, I’d never actually swooned in my life, but I think I might have done a little one then! I’d stupidly forgotten to bring my camera so I asked the wardrobe girl to take a photo of Tom and me. I was devastated when she told me a month later that she’d lost all the pictures when her PC crashed!

  Nobody would be expecting to see Tom on stage, as he was meant to be in the audience. Apparently he had dined with Eric a few nights before and it was suggested then that he come backstage at the end of Act One to be our guest Mountie. It’s unlikely that anyone beyond the first five rows would have recognised him and I imagine those in front were saying,

  “Look at that guy next to Terry – he looks a bit like Tom Hanks.”

  Another big highlight for me was having Eric Clapton come over and sit with me for a chat during rehearsals. We had met very briefly a few years earlier when we’d both been on stage together for another charity event. There had been a big party afterwards and I was standing with an impressionable young Canadian friend of mine, just checking the room out, when Eric stopped in front of us on the way to the bar and said:

  “Hi Carol…. I just want to say that I’m a big fan of yours.”

  “Eh…. gosh! Well….thanks Eric…. I’m a big fan of yours too!”

  “And I always fancied you something rotten!”

  I think I blushed.

  “Well…. that’s nice!”

  My friend was unable to shut his jaw for the next half hour.

  “Oh my God! Eric Clapton is YOUR fan! WOW!”

  I just stood there wondering why these things always happen to me when I’m in a relationship – never when I’m single!

  I felt so privileged to be a part of the Concert for George. It was a magical evening! It took place exactly one year after George’s death and was put together by Olivia and Dhani Harrison with a great deal of love and attention to detail. There were candles all around the front sides of the stage and going down the steps into the audience and the air was full of jasmine scented incense. At the end of the performance flower petals cascaded from above, covering the stage and the audience. The love for George shone out of everyone that evening, both on stage and off.

  October, 2009 Not the Messiah at the Royal Albert Hall

  Performing at London’s Royal Albert Hall had to be a one-off…. or so I thought! But, seven years later we were back again celebrating forty years of Monty Python! Not the Messiah (He’s a very Naughty Boy) is a humorous oratorio based on the film Life of Brian and is basically a spoof of Handel’s Messiah. It was written and scored by Eric Idle and John Du Prez, who had long been a collaborator on other Python projects. It had already been performed half a dozen times around Canada, Australia
and the US, but not with any of the other Pythons included.

  Eric was lead soloist and John conducted a full orchestra and chorus, along with four other soloists. Oh yes, and there were bagpipers as well! Terry J, Terry G, Neil Innes and I came on at intervals, playing various characters and doing silly things. I didn’t have a lot to say in this one and only got to sing at the curtain call when we all joined in with Always Look on the Bright Side of Life, but I did get to do a very silly Spanish dance – during which Terry G and I accidentally fell over with him on top of me – and I came out as a shepherdess with three huge sheep that sang, “Baaaaah!”

  That’s show-biz folks!

  EPILOGUE

  I’ve enjoyed writing this book, even though my head hurts now! It’s been good for the old memory box, as many things have come back to me that I thought I’d forgotten – most of them good, thankfully.

  I didn’t say much about my father in the beginning of the book because at that age I didn’t know much about him and I never really had the chance to get to know him well, which is a shame because he was a fascinating man.

  He was born in India to a Gurkha, but orphaned when the troop ship carrying his family sank. He was then adopted by a very well-to-do family and educated at the Royal Naval College and Royal Military Academy in Sandhurst. But in 1936 he resigned from the army and became a pacifist, resulting in him being cut off from his inheritance and spending some time in jail for his strong beliefs.

  He went into politics and was a Labour member before joining the Liberal Party. He believed in co-ownership in industry and was the first factory owner in Britain to hand his company over to his employees. He wanted to change the world and make it a better place. Sadly the world has not changed in quite the way he would have wished. He died aged ninety-eight in August, 2013.