having me in hysterics like never before.
He was hilarious. At 3.30am I told him I
must go, as I had to drive to Manchester
where I was staying with relatives. “Stay
here, Vinnie,” said Freddie. “We have a spare
room.” I accepted.
I had been in bed for about 30 minutes
and at the stage where you hit the deep
sleep, when a loud, yet whispering voice
awakened me saying, “Vinnie, Vinnie,”
at the same time as I was being rocked
from side to side by someone pushing my
shoulder. Yes, it was Freddie. “Quick, Vinnie,
get dressed. We’ve got to say goodnight
to George,” said Freddie. The following
minutes passed with Freddie getting more
and more irate as I questioned him about
George, whilst remaining in my bed.
I eventually succumbed, got out of bed,
and under instructions from Freddie, put
on my pants and shirt with shoes and no
socks. “It won’t take a minute,” he said. We
crept down the stairs, opened the front
door and were greeted by the fi rst light
on the horizon as it lit up an eerie mist
on the wasteland opposite where my carwas parked. Crossing the road, Freddie
continued to rant on in his loud whisper
as he addressed George. “Where are you,
George? What are you doing, George? I’ve
brought Vinnie to see you, George!” I was
now beginning to stumble on loose bricks
and debris as we ventured deeper into
the heavy mist. I mumbled the questions
to Freddie of, “Who? What? Where?”
Eventually Freddie turned around and
whisper-shouted to me, “There he is!” He
then turned back and shouted, “Hi George,
it’s Freddie, I’ve got Vinnie with me!” I saw
nothing, but the excitement in Freddie’s
voice certainly indicated that he had.
Freddie continued to talk to ‘George’ in
a comforting manner before turning to say,
“Let’s get back to the house.” By now I was
wide awake and totally confused. As we
crossed the wasteland to return to the house
I asked Freddie who George was. “He’s the
brickyard ghost,” replied Freddie. “I say
goodnight to him every night because he
gets really upset if I don’t.”THE BOLTON CASINO on Compton
Way, Bolton, was a lovely old cinema
conversion and a great gig. Having closed
the fi rst half, my evening was fi nished.
I was about to head for home when I heard
a whisper that Freddie was late. It was now
10.10pm and Freddie was due on stage
at 10.15. But it was Freddie, so everyone
assumed he would arrive eventually, wow
the audience, and be forgiven.
The compère asked Freddie’s band if
they would go on and play a few numbers
until he arrived. They agreed, and went
on. I decided to wait at the bar. It wasn’t
a long wait. Roars of laughter greeted
his entrance, as wearing a light brown
mackintosh; he did a Norman Wisdom-
style entrance down the left-hand aisle of
the auditorium. Stumbling and staggering,
he eventually made his way to the stagewhere he ‘Wisdom-walked’ his way to the
gold drape back curtain that ran the full
width of the stage.
It was here that Freddie looked over his
shoulder and adopted a stance as if he was
standing in front of a gent’s urinal. We soon
found out why. Freddie thought he was in a
gent’s urinal, as he leant slightly backwards
while proceeding to turn the light gold
curtain a darker shade as he peed against
it. The audience were in stitches. Without
exposing himself Freddie tidied himself,
turned around, did a Norman Wisdom walk
down stage and got on with his act. As usual
he had the audience in the palm of his hand
and they loved him.
You couldn’t take the piss out of Freddie,
but he could take the piss out of himself.
Wigan Casino didn’t have a romantic
ring as a club itinerary, and it was even less
romantic when Freddie Starr appeared
there. The casinos were big dates in the late
1960s and early 1970s cabaret diary.
I worked them about twice a year and
always enjoyed a great working relationship
with their staff and audiences. A Lancashire
brewery owned them and the main man for
booking, as well as for deciding whether
you came back or not, was Frank Simcox.
As long as you did your job and you kept
your nose clean, a nicer man than Frank
could not be found on the circuit. Freddie,
however, tested Frank’s patience more than
any other performer. Had Freddie not had
his amazing talent and been the favourite
performer of most audiences, chances are
he would never have played a venue more
than once.
One such occasion was when Freddie and
I shared a bill at Wigan Casino. It was just
before Christmas and there was only one
dressing room, one that, with a few people
in, could be become very cosy, especially if
you were sharing with the Dagenham Girl
Pipers as we were this particular week.
The cabaret room was long, with the stage
in the middle of one long wall and the
dressing room entrance on the opposite
long wall. Consequently when artistes
were introduced they would open the
dressing-room door, run across the dance
fl oor and up the steps onto the stage.
When you arrived on the stage the audience
were either side of you, with a few on a
balcony above.
The Dagenham Girl Pipers closed the
fi rst half by performing on the dancefl oor,
as there were way too many Pipers to fi t
on the stage. At the end of their act they
marched off the cabaret fl oor straight intoFreddie Starr in his Elvis get-up,
alongside Muhammad Ali on the
Parkinson talk show in the 70sVince Eager