Tom Jones - the Life (9 page)

The week before the newspaper appeared, the group had made their professional debut in London as the supporting act for The Rolling Stones at the Beat City Club in Oxford Street. The Stones were already arguably the biggest band in the country after The Beatles. Their latest single, ‘It’s All Over Now’, had become their first UK number one earlier in the month, so it wasn’t a surprise hundreds of fans were queuing round the block to get in.

Six hundred people, mainly girls, were herded into the club. Sixty, all girls, were overcome by the heat and the excitement and had to be carried out. Bill Wyman remembered the night in his autobiography
Stone Alone
: ‘It was that hot, you felt you were melting.’ Stewards tried to cool the bands down by throwing buckets of water over them, which had the unexpected effect of turning Tom’s white cotton trousers completely see-through, revealing more than expected. They were the same pair of tight trousers that had first caught the attention of Joe Meek, and left nothing to the imagination.

After they had performed a forty-five-minute set, the band went to collapse in the dressing room they were sharing with the Stones. Mick Jagger, a middle-class grammar school boy, took one look at the wet-through Tom and cheekily declared, ‘Christ, it must be hot out there. Look at him, and he’s only the compère.’ Tom ignored him. By all accounts, he was unimpressed by the Stones’ sulky pouting and didn’t think they would last two minutes down the Bucket of Blood.

After the gig, Gordon learned that there was already a singer in London called Tommy Scott, so finding a new name was now a priority. He always took the credit for thinking of Tom Jones, but the idea originally came from one of the agents he was using to try to find work for the band. He did realise, however, that the name could cash in on the popularity of the bawdy, Oscar-winning film
Tom Jones
, starring Albert Finney. He didn’t know at the time that Tom’s mother’s maiden name was Jones and it should have been an obvious choice.

Tom Jones and The Senators sounded unexciting, so Gordon changed the group’s name to The Playboys in time for the release of their first single. He had revived the interest of Peter Sullivan at Decca, convincing Peter that he was smoothing out some of the rough edges to make Tom more acceptable to a mainstream audience.

One of the problems Gordon had was that Tom came across as a singing bricklayer in a pop world seemingly overrun by pretty boys with soppy smiles. Number one in the charts soon after Tom’s debut single ‘Chills and Fever’ was released in late August 1964 was the anaemic ‘I’m into Something Good’ by Herman’s Hermits. Their lead singer was sixteen-year-old Peter Noone, who had a patent on toothy grins. Tom Jones, aged twenty-four, singing his brand of tight, funky blues, was his polar opposite.

Depressingly, ‘Chills and Fever’ was a complete flop, which it didn’t deserve. Tom did his best to turn it into a hit, giving a sensational live performance on the BBC2 show
The Beat Room
, the station’s first pop programme. He moved, he thrust, he growled, but the studio audience clearly thought they were attending a tea dance at the vicarage. They were arguably the dullest bunch of pullover-wearing youngsters ever assembled in a television studio. Tom loved the song, though, and revived it nearly fifty years later for one of his tours.

Despite everyone’s best efforts, ‘Chills and Fever’ was met with such indifference that it only made number five in the Pontypridd chart compiled by Freddie Feys’ record shop. Gerry Greenberg wasn’t surprised: ‘I never thought it would be a big hit, because it wasn’t different enough.’ It was back to the drawing board for Tom and Gordon. For the former, that also meant an extended stay in the Black Hole.

The failure was also a blow to Linda, who was struggling to cope in Treforest. There was so little money. Her friend Vimy Pitman says, ‘She was worried about the future. It was very hard for her.’

Tom asked Gordon if he could spare a couple of extra pounds for him to send home to Linda, but Gordon, too, was struggling to survive now that motherhood had forced Jo to give up her modelling work. He’d even sold his wristwatch and his beloved car to keep afloat. He had to tell Tom that there was nothing he could do. Tom felt that he had failed miserably as a provider for his family. It was his role as the man of the house. He had grown up watching his weary father proudly put down his wage packet on the kitchen table. He desperately needed to do the same.

Deflated and humiliated, Tom walked round to Notting Hill Gate Tube station and stood on the platform. What was the point of carrying on? He was so down that he seriously thought of suicide. He could end it all in front of the train that was due any minute. He recalled, ‘I thought “I’ll jump.”’ He told
Melody Maker
he ‘felt at the lowest point of despair’.

He dragged himself back to the Black Hole, where Vernon found him trembling. Tom told him he had nearly topped himself and needed a sympathetic pep talk to reassure him that now was not the time to give up. He still had a wife and son who needed him. It was out of character for a man normally so easygoing, but illustrates how low he was feeling. It was, he confessed, ‘the only time in my life I have thought about ending it all’. He was a more sensitive man than people realised.

Tom pulled himself together, sold his leather jacket and bought a train ticket home to ask his wife if he should give up the dream. Linda said no – she would get a job.

Tom popped in to see his cousin Margaret and asked if she could help Linda obtain a job at the sewing factory on the industrial estate, where she worked evening shifts. Margaret had married and had two young sons, so she would stay at home, while her husband, Graham Sugar, worked during the day. She recalls, ‘Tom said, “Can you ask for Linda?” and I said I would do my best. I had only just started there myself, but I went into the office and said that my cousin was away trying to make a name for himself and his wife really needed a job. They said there wasn’t a position for her. But I kept going in and I could have lost my job, but eventually they took her on.’

Linda hadn’t worked since before Mark was born, when she was a fifteen-year-old school-leaver. She and Margaret would set off together, leaving Graham to look after Mark, as well as his own two children, until they came home.

Margaret remembers, ‘Her job was making nylon stockings. The next time Tom was home, he came over and said, “Margaret, I can’t thank you enough.” He was so relieved.’

She loved her cousin and was pleased to do it for him. When her youngest son, Craig, was born, Tom had come to see them. Freda had helped with the home birth, and Tom couldn’t wait to see the newborn. He bounded up the stairs, booming, ‘Let’s have a look at this boy.’ Margaret adds: ‘He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a sixpence and put the piece of silver in my baby’s hand. He said, “It’s for good luck.” Tom is a big softie where family is concerned.’

Perhaps someone put a sixpence in Tom’s own hand, because, at last, his luck was about to change for the better.

After the disappointment of ‘Chills and Fever’, Gordon knew that he had to steer Tom away from the blues – in more ways than one. ‘If I’d left Tom alone, he’d probably have gone on singing the blues for the rest of time. I know he was disappointed when we started on records away from the blues feel, but he eventually realised that it was primarily a matter of getting through to an audience.’

Gordon managed to find the band some gigs outside London to bring in a few much needed extra pounds. For one, at the Top Rank Cinema in Slough, he invited his good mate Les Reed to join him, so he could take a look at Tom and give his opinion.

Les can laugh about it now: ‘I was horrified when I saw the main man. He was wearing an open silk shirt, showing his hairy chest, with a massive medallion around his neck. His trousers were so tight, I was worried about him every time he moved! Around his waist was tied a rabbit’s foot and his boots defied description. They were massive! I thought, “I ain’t gonna like this guy.” But when he opened his mouth to sing a Wilson Pickett song and a couple of Jerry Lee Lewis numbers, I was totally hooked!’

Les Reed would be one of the most significant figures in the early career of Tom Jones. He had known Gordon since 1959, when The Viscounts shared a bill with the John Barry Seven. Les was the pianist with the group formed by the man who would become one of the most acclaimed film composers in the world and later wrote the enduring James Bond signature tune.

Les, who was brought up in the Home Counties, was a properly trained musician. He had been immersed in the world of entertainment as a child, when his father ran a semi-professional troupe of dancers, singers and accordion players. He had started playing the piano at five and passed all his London College of Music exams by fourteen. After national service, he played piano in London nightclubs, before an obligatory summer season at Butlins led to an introduction to John Barry.

He spent three years with the Seven, touring up and down the country, before he left in 1962 to concentrate on writing and arranging and forming his own group, the Les Reed Combo. They were much in demand on BBC Radio as the resident band backing famous guest artists, including Jim Reeves and Jerry Lee Lewis, on shows like
Mark Time
,
On the Scene
and
Country Club
.

Tom had no idea when he met Les for the first time that the Combo had backed Jerry Lee and that Les had conducted the sessions. He also didn’t know that Adam Faith was best man at his wedding or that Les had played piano on many of the singer’s chart hits, including ‘Poor Me’ and ‘What Do You Want?’

One day, Gordon asked Les if he fancied writing a song or two together, so they met up at the flat in Campden Hill Towers and composed ‘In the Deep of Night’ for a promising girl singer from the North-East called Dodi West. The track was not a hit, but might well have been if it had been recorded by Sandie Shaw or Cilla Black. They were keen to try again when they next had a good idea.

Les believes their songwriting partnership worked very well: ‘Gordon was not a trained musician, but had a way with lyrics that was very much in keeping with meaningful songs of the day. We gelled together because I provided melodies and chords, which were a weak point in his writing abilities.’

One of the oldest clichés in the pop handbook is that it only takes one song. Tom needed to be patient while Gordon tried to find the right track for his next record. Gordon certainly didn’t think his latest composition was the one. He had just been tickling the keys of the piano at home one evening, when he came across a pleasing little melody. Jo liked it as well and suggested that he could call the tune ‘It’s Not Unusual’.

The offering was very thin when Gordon next met up with Les. He sang him a few bars and said he was hoping it would be a song for Sandie Shaw, who had burst on to the pop scene with her debut record ‘(There’s) Always Something There to Remind Me’ in October 1964. The melody wasn’t the one that would rank among the most famous of all time, but Les liked the title, ‘It’s Not Unusual’, and some of the other lyrics that Gordon had sketched out, so they started working on it.

Five days later, they had completed the song and chose Tom to make the demo. Gordon sang it for him in the car one day and he was keen to be involved. It takes a leap of imagination to think a track recorded by the booming-voiced masculine man from the Valleys was suitable for the whimsical Miss Shaw, whose trademark was going barefoot when she appeared on television.

Tom duly showed up at Regent Sounds in Denmark Street, Soho, to record. Les was there on piano and had recruited some of the best-known session musicians to help: on drums, Mitch Mitchell, who would find fame in the Jimi Hendrix Experience, well-known London session musician Eric Ford played bass, Peter Lee Stirling, guitar, and Gordon banged a tambourine. Stirling changed his name to Daniel Boone and had a number of hits in the early seventies as a singer-songwriter.

Les recalls, ‘Tom sang the song well. The following day, the three of us took the demo disc to Sandie’s manager, Evie Taylor. We were kept waiting, as Evie was interviewing another act called Des Lane, The Penny Whistle Man. Finally, she led us into her office, complaining that Des Lane was an important act and we had made her cut short her meeting. She heard about eight bars of the song, said, “It’ll never be a hit” and showed us the door.’

Evie was known as the ‘Queen Bee of Show Business’, a female firebrand of an agent in a male-dominated business. She had managed both the John Barry Seven and Adam Faith, so Les knew what she was like. He observes, ‘She could not only have secured agency for Tom, but also future publishing on our songs, but she was more concerned about Des Lane. I think she turned down a lot of money that day!’

On the Tube journey home, Tom pleaded with the others to let him record and release the song. He had realised its potential and how much it suited him: ‘You can’t say what ingredients go into a hit song. You only know when you hear it. It hits you. “It’s Not Unusual” was a good song but commercial as well. It had everything in it that I wanted.’

Later, in the pub, Tom wouldn’t let it drop. Gordon remarked that he had a face as long as a fiddle. When he asked him what was wrong, Tom announced, ‘I want that song.’ He felt so strongly about it that he threatened to go back to Wales permanently if he didn’t get the chance to record it.

In a way, Evie was right. This wasn’t a number for Sandie Shaw once you had heard Tom Jones singing it. She did check with her artist, however, to see what she thought. Sandie listened to it and declared, ‘This is going to be a big song. This is his song.’

Fortunately for the career of Tom Jones, Les and Gordon agreed, and the following day the three of them trooped over to the Decca offices on the Embankment to meet the company’s veteran founder, Sir Edward Lewis, managing director Bill Townsley and Peter Sullivan. Nervously, they played them Tom’s demo. Les recalls, ‘They all absolutely loved the song
and
the artist and we concluded a deal for Tom and Decca that very day.’

In the music business, there is nothing unusual about a performer’s group taking a back seat while a track is recorded, but the signs were already there that Tom wasn’t a member of a group. The Playboys, who were now called The Squires because of yet another name clash, were from the outset perceived as nothing more than Tom’s backing band for live performances.

The Squires was a clever name for the group. Gordon was again echoing the
Tom Jones
movie, because Squire Weston, played by the Welsh actor Hugh Griffith, was arguably the most memorable character in the film.

Les Reed explains the situation: ‘The Squires were an ideal group to back him up in the early days, but Tom was deemed from the very beginning to be a solo singer. There is no doubt about that.’

‘It’s Not Unusual’ was recorded at the Decca Studios in West Hampstead. Tom, though a recording novice, was completely professional and patient – essential ingredients in what can be a laborious and drawn-out process. ‘He was a gentleman in the studio,’ says Les. ‘He would take both criticism and advice from Gordon and me, but, really, he was so adept at styling a song that we rarely criticised him.’

The initial recording was not a success, however. Les went for a light Tamla Motown-style arrangement, using vibraphones and bells and rhythm guitars that might have suited an early record by The Supremes or Mary Wells. Tom’s voice didn’t flow with the music. He was singing well enough, but the overall effect was nothing special.

Decca weren’t happy. Peter Sullivan realised something had to be done. He told Tom, ‘You’ve got a big voice. Nice is not enough. You are not nice!’ He told Les, ‘This score is far too Sandie Shaw. You need a bigger sound. Tom needs brass behind him.’

Les went back to the drawing board to come up with the arrangement that became so well known, an instant classic, using some of the brass section and woodwind players from the renowned Ted Heath Orchestra. Tom, so legend has it, sang his dynamic vocal while standing in a studio cupboard to achieve the best acoustics. The result was thrilling.

Frustratingly, Decca decided to postpone the single until after Christmas. The record company was releasing ‘Little Red Rooster’ by The Rolling Stones in November and didn’t want the two records to be in competition with one another. In any case, there was no point in taking on The Beatles, whose single ‘I Feel Fine’ was set to dominate the festive charts.

Armed with the new single, Tom went home to spend his last Christmas in Treforest. Gordon had to send everyone back to Wales, because basically he had run out of money and was £1,000 in debt. You could buy a house for £3,000 in 1964, so this was a considerable sum. ‘It’s Not Unusual’ needed to be a hit or his whole financial pack of cards was going to collapse. To add to his private anguish, Jo was in hospital with complications during a second pregnancy. Tom was so broke, he confessed, ‘My dad had to lend me a few quid to buy presents. It’s the worst Christmas I’ve ever spent.’

Tom invited Gerry Greenberg over for breakfast at the house in Cliff Terrace to listen to the new song. Linda offered him a boiled egg, while an excited Tom put the track on the turntable. Gerry had been closely connected with Tom’s career from the outset and Tommy, as he still called him, valued his opinion: ‘I listened to it. I thought, “This hasn’t got much of a chance.” But I turned to him and I said, “Brilliant – definitely going to be number one in Pontypridd.”’ Gerry wasn’t alone in his opinion. The
NME
gave it the briefest of reviews, describing the song as a ‘catchy tune’, but not chart material.

‘It’s Not Unusual’ was, in fact, a very unusual song in an era dominated by guitar-led groups. It was a perfect two minutes of Motown dance music, combined with old-fashioned big-band swing. Both Tom and the song seemed too grown up for the teenagers swooning before George Harrison and Paul McCartney. When Tom performed it, the smooth sexuality of the song was complemented perfectly by his pelvic thrusting. The BBC was reluctant to give it airtime when it was finally released at the end of January 1965, but the popular disc jockey Alan Freeman played the track on his late evening Radio Luxembourg show, which was great publicity.

Tom never forgot sitting in a pub one night and watching some regulars, who were playing darts, put his single on the jukebox practically on repeat. They were asking, ‘Who the hell is this Tom Jones bloke?’ and the barmaid, who was casually washing glasses, glanced up, nodded at Tom and said, ‘That’s him there.’

At this point, Gordon decided it was time for the first press release announcing the new singing sensation to the world. Tom, naively, went along with it, barely giving the fact that it was a pack of lies a second thought. It was to have a profound effect on the rest of Linda Woodward’s life, because Gordon told Tom that he couldn’t appear to be married.

The shameful statement read: ‘He’s Tom Jones, he’s twenty-two, single and a miner.’ He was, in reality, Tommy Woodward, aged twenty-four, married with a young son and the nearest he had ever been to a mine was washing his dad’s back. The stories that gave credence to this spin also said he was six feet tall, which added two inches to his real height.

It has long been accepted in the world of movies and music that you can tell your audience what you like and it doesn’t matter if it’s a lie. Conning the fans is allowed, for some reason. None of the members of Take That had girlfriends when they started out, we were told, but of course they all did. Kylie Minogue and Jason Donovan were practically living together when they were denying that they were boyfriend and girlfriend. John Lennon kept his marriage and young son secret on the orders of his manager when The Beatles began, so at least there was a famous precedent for erasing Linda from Tom’s CV.

Linda was kept out of the way in Treforest with Mark, who was nearly eight. She was still making nylon stockings in the factory. Just after ‘It’s Not Unusual’ was released, she was walking with Margaret Sugar through the centre of Pontypridd, when they heard the record playing in Freddie Feys’ record shop. She turned to her companion and confided, like an excited schoolgirl, ‘Oh Margaret, he will soon be on
Top of the Pops
!’

An appearance on the iconic pop programme was a landmark in any performer’s career. Tom performed ‘It’s Not Unusual’ on 11 February 1965 and it proved to be just the spur to propel the song to the top. Gordon had decided that Tom should wear all white, including his shoes, to try to counteract suggestions that his pelvic performance was too overtly sexual for sensitive teenage girls. Vernon Hopkins wryly observed that Tom looked more like a commercial for Persil washing powder than the hottest singer in the land.

Inevitably, news that Tom was actually a married man of twenty-four with a young son soon appeared in the newspapers. The argument in favour of the deception was that it drew in female fans and once they were hooked it didn’t matter whether he was married or not. That was small consolation to Linda.