Good Heavens . . . it's been a month already, and I find that it's time to start another "Ah Yes, I Remember Her Well" article!!! Before I get into it, I feel that I must question the three or four people who continualy get on my case for "daring to talk about Dusty". It's a little like the problem of people who complain about certain television shows, but never seem to realize that a simple click of the remote control will eliminate the offending program, thereby not upsetting their delicate sensibilities. So there!!! Having got off my soapbox, let's start with some more memories of "our" girl.

Several of you who have written to me directly seem to have a fascination concerning the process of "putting on a show". As Dusty often used to say, unlike Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland, she didn't have a barn and/or a trunk full of clothes in the attic, so each show was built from the bottom up. If it was a set tour, then it would stay the same, but cabaret would usually mean a longer act. So, often she would lift stuff from past shows, and we would edit them into the current show, or if she was doing two shows a night, they usually wanted a slightly shorter act. So something would have to be trimmed or deleted. One question I was asked was a request for a copy of a lighting cue sheet, but I only have a very thick book with all of the lyrics written in, and my lighting notations, but if a song was cut, or another one inserted, I would simply 'cut and paste' until I had what was needed . . . looking at this now, they don't make sense even to me!!!

When she was planning an appearance, and because she trusted my judgement, there were really only three things I needed to know . . . was she going to stand at the centre mike or sit on a stool; was she going to move around the stage; and what color gown was she going to wear. As each tour or show used to come complete with at least three new gowns, I often had to adjust the spotlight colors while she was on, but because we we were so "in tune"-- her, musically; me, visually -- I often found that what worked for one gown also worked for the other two. Thank Heavens she always wore her hair the same color, if not always the same style!!

When she put "Quiet Please, There's A Lady On Stage" into the act, I came up with a unique (for Dusty) way to end the song. I suggested that instead of standing dead centre, it might be effective if she ended the number way off to the side. I would install some dramatic overhead lighting, and -- as she got to the very last notes -- slowly eliminate the spotlite, then fade out the lighter overhead color, leaving her dramatically bathed in blue, and then blackout from overhead. "Well, it sounds great in theory, but what happens if I can't find the spot to stand in the overheads. . ." I will put a black cross of duct tape on the floor. "How will I know if I am in the light." I'll make the beam a little wider than usual, so if you are a couple of inches off, it will still look great. "With everything else going on in that number, supposing I forget to move to the side . . ." Well, there will be a tastefully lit empty space about 14 foot 6 inches to your left. "What will they see of me?" You will be dimly in silhouette against the band...in other words, they will hear you, but not see you . . . (long pause) "Oh . . . Ok."

She never missed the X or the cue.

I like to think it enhanced the number, which if you recall started quietly and built and built, then dropped down to almost nothing. 23 lighting cues and she was always in the right spot at the right time for each change.

She was very hard to give a compliment to . . . Example: If the band was cooking, she was in rare form, the audience were standing on the tables, I would invariably say, as she came offstage, "Good One, Dust." Invariably she would come back, "Well, it would have been if the cello player hadn't played the wrong note in the 87th bar of the 3rd medley on the 2nd key change during . . . !!!!" Well, perhaps not THAT critical, but she was always very analytical about her shows.

I truly think she would have been staggered at the outpouring of love and affection, particularly from outside England, that her passing invoked, but I can't help thinking she, cynic to the bitter end, would have said it was probably because she finally *was* dead!!!!

Another question I often get is about her stage gowns. As some of you know, I ended up with a couple -- and luckily I hung onto them. It appears that I was the only one who had anything from the 60's. I was contacted and asked to loan one for her exhibit at the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame in Cleveland. I sent them a light green shiffon skirt, very full, with a 'cape' in turquoise and blue/green heavily beaded in diamante. A typical pain in the butt, I even sent a lighting plot along with it, suggesting which colors looked best, where to place the lights, and even the intensity of the beams.

Talking of her stage outfits, she appeared one year at the Ivor Novello awards ceremony held at The Talk Of The Town Theatre-Restaurant in Leicester Square. This is a couple of years before she actually starred in the floorshow there. Darnells of London had received some fantastic apricot colored crepe fabric, and she and Eric got together and came up with a very dressy trouser suit (pants suit for the US readers!). It had the usual bell bottom pants, an over-blouse, and a long sleeved jacket, with just a touch of gold trimming. Very classy. After trying it on, on the day of the show, she felt that the over-blouse didn't hang right. It didn't look right when tucked in, and she thought a wide belt would give it the lines she felt it lacked. The problem was, there was hardly any fabric left. Eric had a fabulous huge gold buckle, but what to do about the actual belt? The solution was to take a couple of strips from inside the bottom of the trousers, which made at least six inches of belt on either side of the buckle -- but there was no way he could dig up enough for an entire belt. In the end, they found some old string, lying on the floor of the storage room, and literally tied the two ends of the belt into knots, and tied the whole thing together at the back! As Dusty said, she was in terror all night that either the string would break, or, worse still, she might throw her hands up in a gesture, revealing she was truly held together with string!

I rarely got involved with any of her recordings, but after hearing "Second Time Around" and "Who Can I Turn To", I told her she should think about recording an album of show tunes and ballads only. She thought about this for about 1 second and said, "Who on earth would buy a thing like that." I said I would for one. "You'd be the only one," she said. I told her I even had a title -- The Other Side Of Dusty Springfield -- and also an album cover concept: how about you standing with your back to the camera, looking over your right shoulder, just like that famous Betty Grable 1940s pin-up picture? "YOU WANT ME TO POSE IN A SWIM SUIT?" (This last note was so high, it couldn't be heard by humans, but dogs for miles around immediately started howling!) It took about 3 minutes before I could explain I meant the POSE not the outfit. As we all know, nothing ever came of it. Neither did my attempt to get her to sing "What Now My Love". From my point of view, it would be wonderful to light and stage; and, from her point of view, I thought it would be a great song to perform. But it never happened. Ironically, a couple of years later, Linda Ronstadt came out with HER album of standards which became a top ten seller. "You're not going to say I Told You So, are you?" Dusty said to me, through ever so slightly clenched teeth. Absolutely not, said I, meeting her steady gaze, while immediately plotting to hide a card under her pillow that said I Told You So!

And I did.

Love,
Fred Perry
California.

POSTSCRIPT: On December 1, 2000, Geraldine Moyle informed the DustyMail list serve that Fred Perry, Dusty Springfield's longtime friend and professional colleague, had passed away in California on November 28, 2000, after a long illness.

Geraldine had met Fred on numerous occasions over the course of the last year and in so doing discovered "a deeply honest, sincere and decent man." Through Geraldine, Fred shared, via DustyMail, several insightful and humourous anecdotes about his friendship and professional life with Dusty Springfield.

In her December 1 posting, Geraldine notes that "Fred's career in Britain straddled the last pangs of vaudeville and the first stirrings of rock 'n' roll . . . He first crossed paths with Dusty in the late 1950s when she was a Lana Sister and he was a roadie for Cherry Wainer. Both acts were playing post-WWII American air bases in Britain. By 1963, with Dusty a solo artist, she joined sponsored tours on which Fred was already working. Their further professional connection was cemented by Fred's skills as a lighting designer . . ."

Though Fred was a close friend of Dusty's from 1963 in Britain to the mid-1970s in the US, their friendship did not survive Dusty's late-1970s life in Los Angeles. Nevertheless, they did achieve a reconciliation in the early-1990s, and Fred attended Dusty's funeral in March 1999.

Geraldine notes that Fred's "loyalty to Dusty was absolute, his love unchanged and unchanging."