Freddie Mercury: The Biography

by Laura Jackson

  ‘Freddie and I never spoke about his HIV and AIDS, but he knew that I knew,’ Valentin says. ‘It was in our eyes whenever we looked at each other and was a silent understanding between us. When I joined him in Ibiza for this TV special, I saw straight away that he had not been able to hide the marks on his face properly – and so, before he and Montserrat performed, I said nothing but took Freddie away with me to another room and used my heavy professional make-up on him to make him look better.’

  But Barbara Valentin’s help had come a little late. Says Pino Sagliocco, ‘There was an incredible party afterwards, and everyone had a good time, but I think we already knew then that Freddie was sick. He was not telling anyone anything, but as soon as he arrived we saw that he had begun to get these strange blemishes on his face. We were told it was his liver, and, of course, he did drink too much – but all those spots?’

  Tony Pike also harboured unspoken fears. ‘By this time,’ he says, ‘rumours had begun circulating that Freddie had AIDS – but then you don’t ask a friend if he is terminally ill, and no one ever spoke about it. It was just not discussed. Those around him would have categorically denied it anyway.’

  Once home, Mercury had writing and recording commitments with Mike Moran ahead of him for his album with Montserrat Caballé, and there was a Queen album looming, too, after their year apart. Possibly hastened by the recent press revelations, Hutton had recently left his job at the Savoy Hotel and officially become the gardener at Garden Lodge. During August Barbara Valentin paid Mercury a welcome visit, but soon after that he began withdrawing more and more into himself. Around this time, as his treatment stepped up, Mercury was upset when his precious koi carp began dying off for no apparent reason. He made up for it by acquiring yet more kittens.

  But for all his attempts to hide from the truth, Mercury must have agonised a million times about how he was going to cope when his illness worsened. Yet he refused to crumble. He certainly had no plans to avoid celebrating his coming birthday in style. To host this party he chose to return to Pikes. Tony Pike was happy to accommodate him, but things almost went awry, as Pike recalls.

  ‘Freddie’s forty-first was originally going to be arranged in conjunction with Elton John’s manager John Reid. That was until he and Jim Beach had a massive argument. Beach had been four hours late for their rendezvous, through no fault of his own – he and his family had been caught in a terrible storm at sea – but Reid, unaware of the circumstances, was fuming at being delayed so long. As a result, he promptly cancelled the party. When Freddie found out he called me and said he wanted a do regardless – just something for a hundred people instead of the previous two hundred and fifty – which, from a business point of view, was rather disappointing.

  ‘The story of the bash being called off had somehow appeared in an English newspaper, and when Freddie read it he was incensed. He told me that he wanted the biggest party the island had ever seen, and I said, “But, Freddie, there are only four days to go.” He replied, “I know you can do it.”’

  Pike didn’t let his friend down. In the end there were seven hundred guests, of whom more than half sat down to eat. For their enjoyment he arranged a host of exotic entertainers including flamenco and fantasy dancers. Extra staff were hired, and altogether over eight hundred people packed the place.

  Two elements of the celebration feature strongest in Tony Pike’s mind: ‘Firstly, I had arranged for a special cake to be made in the shape of the Gaudi Cathedral, but when the plane it was in landed, the cake collapsed. It was a disaster, especially at such short notice, but we hurriedly made him a replacement cake, two metres long and decorated with the musical notes to “Barcelona”. Six men dressed in white and gold uniforms carried it in, but nobody ended up having room for cake. And as the high jinks began, my secretary at the time, a rather portly English lady in her best silk suit, ended up being thrown into it.’ Then there was the champagne. ‘We opened three hundred and fifty bottles of Moet & Chandon in less than one hour,’ recalls Tony. ‘After I was dressed I’d gone to check on the champagne only to find that the ice was in the vats but no bottles, and we all had to frantically empty out and start again. We just got it chilled in the nick of time.’

  Pike had hired a professional decorator from Barcelona, and the hotel was hung with black and gold balloons, which had taken three days to blow up by machine. They were helium filled, and in the middle of the party there was a near disaster. ‘There was this guy trying to impress the girl sitting on his knee,’ he explains, ‘and he thought he’d put a lighter to the balloon above her head to make it pop, but instead, the whole thing went up in a gigantic sheet of flame.

  ‘The problem was we had had extra electricity supplied, and the massive overhead cables on the roof caught the blast and began to melt. It could have been catastrophic. I’d been elsewhere talking to Mike Moran and didn’t know anything about it. As I returned to the party, someone anxiously asked what I was going to do about the fire, and I replied that I’d see to it tomorrow. I ended up with a “My God, that’s a cool guy!” reputation that night.’

  Having nearly missed out on his annual celebration, Mercury ended up with one of his best ever parties. He especially enjoyed the spectacular fireworks display that rounded it all off. ‘He must have seen so many displays,’ says Pike, ‘but it was like he was a little boy, seeing one for the first time.’ That night Mercury was the perfect host. He had allowed in none of the usual photographers and appeared happy, going out of his way personally to greet as many guests as he could. No one would have guessed that his white cell count had dropped significantly, although earlier in the day at the hotel friends had noticed, with alarm, some new and strange marks on the star’s legs.

  For Tony Pike the pleasure of having provided his friend with a party to remember was almost denied when the time came to present the bill. It was huge – his biggest ever account – and had been meticulously itemised. ‘I gave the bill to Jim Beach,’ he says, ‘who naturally went through it carefully. There were items on it like 232 broken glasses, and suddenly he pointed to one entry of four vodka and tonics, and he said, “Take it away. We did not have any vodkas.”

  ‘I said that if it was on the bill, then someone must have ordered the drinks, but Beach repeated that I should take the bill away and not give him something with items on it that they didn’t order. He repeated, “No one ordered four vodkas.”

  ‘As far as I was concerned the bill was correct and was about to stand my ground, when a quiet voice cut in and asked, “Is there a problem here?” It was Freddie, and I explained the situation to him. He replied, “Yes, it’s correct. I bought those for the bar staff.” So that was it.’

  Mercury’s dignified way of settling the impasse didn’t surprise Pike. In the two years that he had already been coming to Pikes, they had become close friends. ‘Freddie, myself and a handful of others would often talk for hours on end,’ he says. ‘He was the greatest raconteur I ever met and he’d never sit down while he was telling stories. His gestures were just mesmerising, but, between the hands and the voice, you could see everything he was describing. On one occasion he and I got talking before dinner, and someone came in to remind him of the time. He politely said he knew, but not to disturb him again as he’d be out shortly. Five hours later we were still talking. He just kept going, and the time flew by.’

  The single ‘Barcelona’ was released first in Spain on 21 September, where shops sold out within hours. Says Pino Sagliocco, ‘It’s still played at every official event in Barcelona. It’s like a national anthem here.’ Then just over a month later it was released in Britain, where it peaked at number eight in the charts. In 1992 the BBC were to adopt it as the official anthem for their coverage of the Olympic Games. But the music press were hopelessly perplexed when they first heard it. Reminiscent of their reaction to ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’, they had no idea what to make of it, as their polarised reviews reflected. Some critics described Mercury as a total embarrassment to the
rock world, while others deemed the song a brave and ingenious digression; a view shared by many fellow performers, including Cliff Richard.

  ‘I thought “Barcelona” was terrific, and again, Freddie dared to do it,’ he says. ‘It was a most unlikely project for a rock star to tackle and was always going to have the stun factor, but it was a lot bigger an achievement than that.’ Cliff Richard also holds strong views on the subject of critics and their persistent attacks on performers. ‘Our industry is so small-minded in that respect,’ he states. ‘It’s the tall poppy syndrome. They can’t wait to cut someone down who is doing too well. I just wish they would start from the standpoint of a performer’s ability and popularity among the fans, instead of being automatically non-supportive when someone makes a move in a new direction.’

  Once sensitive to media attacks, Mercury now had more vital concerns. During filming of the video to accompany ‘Barcelona’, his white cell count had dropped again, this time alarmingly – and his doctors once more intensified his treatment. With the Sun’s exposé still fresh in people’s minds, rumours were circulating in the press about the star’s health. In November, in a rare interview with a women’s magazine, he lied outright, saying, ‘Yes, I did have an AIDS test, and I’m fine.’

  He was far from fine and had a long way to battle yet. But he continued to prefer not to have his illness mentioned and had been depressed lately by the news that Nicolai Grishanovich, a lover he had shared in common with Kenny Everett, had also contracted AIDS.

  Mercury had once maintained, ‘I don’t expect to make old bones. What’s more, I really don’t care.’ It was the kind of careless rock ’n’ roll quip that’s easy to make when twenty-something and in robust health, but he must have felt differently now. Utilising his strong willpower, after a decade’s abuse of cocaine, he cut out drugs altogether, adopted a healthier diet and cultivated a more mellow attitude towards many things. Life had suddenly become a great deal more precious.

  THIRTEEN

  Seeking Sanctuary

  In January 1988, Mercury rejoined Queen at London’s Town House Studios to start work on their first studio-recorded album for three years. His collaboration with Mike Moran also continued on the Montserrat Caballé album. Each would take roughly a year to make, as Mercury was appreciably slowing down now. He was having regular medical check-ups, and his physical appearance would soon start noticeably to change. His enthusiasm for both recording projects, however, remained undiminished; a fact that now attracts great admiration.

  ‘Freddie was an immensely creative man,’ says Mike Moran. ‘He could do almost anything musically, and he worked amazingly hard in the studio. His attitude was always, “I will do this,” and that didn’t change when he became ill. Most amazingly, he was still there. He’d work himself into a frenzy in the studio and was a perfectionist to the last. He would not leave anything to anyone else, even when he was latterly very sick. If the tiniest thing bothered him, he’d keep at it until he felt it was right.

  ‘He kind of made it clear, without explaining why, that he would come in when he could, and if he did, he was the same old Freddie. I mean, he’d get tired and would suddenly just call a halt saying, “Right, that’s it. Got to go.” But when he was there, he gave it his all. As far as the Barcelona album was concerned, the whole thing also took so long because logistically trying to get Montserrat’s vocals on the tracks was often a nightmare. And that was on top of all the songwriting.’

  To alleviate the creative workload, by spring Mercury and Moran had invited on board the considerable talents of lyricist Sir Tim Rice to help out on two of the eight album tracks required for Barcelona. With a string of the world’s most famous stage musicals to his credit, Rice would later win an Oscar for Best Original Song for Disney’s The Lion King. In 1988 he co-wrote ‘The Fallen Priest’ and ‘The Golden Boy’, from which point his friendship with Mercury developed.

  ‘My first connection with Freddie came about when Elaine Paige wanted to record an album of Queen songs,’ Rice recalls. ‘It was originally my idea that she should. I’d always been a great fan of the band, and I thought it would be a different thing for Elaine to do. I think the album was actually one of her best.

  ‘But the whole idea came as a complete surprise to Freddie. We had approached Jim Beach with our suggestion, and Freddie was rather flattered because he, in turn, much admired Elaine’s work. He took great interest in the project, and we went to a couple of dinners at his home to discuss it. It didn’t end up just Mercury compositions on the album, and indeed Freddie was often the one to say, “Well, have you thought about doing this one?” and so on.

  ‘Freddie was busy working on the Barcelona album, and he asked if I would put lyrics to a couple of tracks that he and Mike Moran had in mind. He gave me tapes to work with and I wrote some lyrics which Freddie liked, so they went ahead and recorded them.’ Tim already loved the single ‘Barcelona’. ‘I thought it was absolutely wonderful,’ he states. ‘I don’t think Freddie had an operatic voice. Obviously his was more a rock voice, but then most opera stars couldn’t get near a rock song. For instance, Montserrat Caballé couldn’t sing a Pretenders’ number. However, if Freddie had trained from childhood, he could very well have sung opera. He wasn’t that far off it.’

  As to Mercury’s solo talents, Rice believes, ‘I personally think he flourished best as a songwriter within the context of Queen. He may have been their main songwriter, but the other three in their various ways gave him inspiration. Latterly, of course, the tracks were all credited to Queen, so you never knew whose song it had originally been.’

  In many ways Mike Moran agrees with Tim Rice on Mercury’s work outside Queen. He says, ‘It’s always a weird thing, but it’s generally the case that when someone steps out of a band to do solo work, it’s not easily accepted by the fans. Freddie’s own view was to do something and just be himself, and if it sounded very reminiscent of Queen, that couldn’t be avoided. He never set out to say, “I’m going to be different from Queen.” Even with “Barcelona”, although there is a diva shrieking away, with the multi-vocals from Freddie it still smacked of the band a little bit.

  ‘You get instinctively drawn into how Queen do things, regardless. When we did “All God’s People”, which ended up on Innuendo, Brian did guitar on it. They had a rule, no more than two Queenies on anything solo or it would constitute Queen. With a track like that, which featured Freddie’s voice and Brian’s guitar, it was so strongly identified with the band that it ended up hard to divorce the two anyway.’

  Reluctant to leave home when not at the studio, Mercury threw more dinner parties at Garden Lodge. His guest list was on a smaller scale than before, but they were intimate and enjoyable affairs, conducted at a pace more suited to his state of health now. In addition to his core of close friends, his guests included Tim Rice and Elaine Paige, then his long-standing girlfriend, and actress Susannah York.

  Susannah York recalls, ‘Because my taste in music is classical and soul, I hadn’t previously paid much attention to Freddie or Queen, but we had a mutual friend in Peter Straker. It was one night when a bunch of us after a performance went to a club, where Peter was to join Freddie, that I met him for the first time. He was great fun, very warm and had tremendous spirit.’

  One Sunday at dinner Mercury made York a surprise offer. ‘He had so much charm,’ she explains. ‘He offered me the use of his New York flat whenever I liked, and I was touched by the spontaneity of such a generous offer. Inwardly I suppose I didn’t take it seriously, and I hadn’t any occasion then to be in New York, but the next time we met, Freddie took me aside and said quietly, “You didn’t take me up on my offer.” He assured me, “I really meant it.”

  ‘Freddie could be very manipulative in his relationships, which can be very easy when you reach a position of power, but having said that, he was generous to his friends and he’d support something like going to see a play of Peter’s or even mine. Primarily he came to see me to pleas
e Peter, I think, but then he came later for me in my own right. If I was ever going out with Freddie and Peter, I always looked forward to it immensely because I knew I’d enjoy myself in Freddie’s company.’

  Another guest at these dinner parties was Sir Cliff Richard: ‘The first time I went there I was amazed that there was a house there at all,’ he says. ‘It is so tucked away, set well back off the road. Suddenly you’re in an oasis, a real country garden. It was a beautiful house with fabulous gardens.

  ‘Freddie was always surrounded, even at parties in his own home, but what I did notice at these affairs was that he seemed to have to live out the whole fantasy all the time. He had lots of people looking after him, ready to do his bidding at all times – he carried the “star thing” into his private world, too. I mean, you just knew that he’d never, in a million years, ever do the washing-up himself, for instance. He loved the mystique, I think.’

  The care that Mercury took to ensure the excellence of his intimate dinner parties left an impression on Mike Moran. ‘There was nothing cheap about Freddie,’ he declares. ‘It always had to be the finest champagne and food, and his attention to detail was amazing. He’d personally triple-check everything. I’ve been at his house, about to leave to come back later for dinner, and found Freddie fussing about the table, checking place settings, china and cutlery and getting himself into a state. I’d say to him, “Hey, Fred. It’s only us,” to which he’d reply, “Oh, that’s not the attitude” – and carry on fussing.’

  Through working together so closely Mercury and Moran developed a strong bond. ‘He was an absolute sweetheart – fab, considerate and kind, and a very loyal friend,’ says Moran. ‘He was an intensely private man and kept about him only a very small circle of friends. My wife and I were fortunate to have been two of those. We went to all his anniversaries, like birthdays, and never missed his Boxing Day dinner parties.