Johnny Tudor - My Heart Is Bleeding: The Life of Dorothy Squires

Cover illustration: Film star Roger Moore plays the piano for his wife, singer Dorothy Squires. (John Pratt/Keystone Features/Getty Images)

First published in 2017

The History Press

The Mill, Brimscombe Port

Stroud, Gloucestershire, GL5 2QG

www.thehistorypress.co.uk

This ebook edition first published in 2017

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Johnny Tudor, 2017

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EPUB ISBN 978 0 7509 8292 4

Original typesetting by The History Press

eBook converted by Geethik Technologies

After the success of Say It With Flowers, the play I wrote about Dorothy Squires with my good friend Meic Povey, many people have expressed a wish to know more about this talented, controversial and sometimes difficult Welsh woman. Having the advantage of knowing Dorothy for most of my life and the benefit of access to her personal letters and reminiscences given to me by her niece, Emily Squires, has given me a first-hand and sometimes emotional insight into her story that allowed me to open up untold layers of this dramatic life. I was also privileged to have recorded interviews with Dorothy just before she died. Consequently, her quotes give this book an authenticity, which I would not have been able to achieve had it not been for the 5 hours of recorded dialogue in my possession.

My life has been inextricably linked with Dorothys and although I feature quite heavily in this book, its not my story; its Dorothys story seen through my eyes. At times it reads like a Greek tragedy her relentless journey from rags to riches and back again seems at times to be like a ridiculous parody but there are great moments of joy and humour too. So, as you turn the pages of this book, I hope my efforts bring to life the excitement of the good times when Dorothy was riding high, as well as the trials and tribulations of her journey from humble beginnings in the South Wales Valleys to the pinnacle of international stardom. It was a privilege to be with Dorothy at the end and, although the manner of her passing was sad, I will always remember her as the vibrant woman she once was, how I learnt from her and how she touched all our lives back then.

This book would never have been written without the encouragement and friendship of the television producer Peter Edwards, who had the vision and confidence in my ability to write it and my friend Emily Squires, who gave me access to Dots personal letters and reminiscences and trusted me to portray her aunts life accurately and honestly. I am most grateful to them and the people who gave up their time to relay their memories of Dorothy to me. In particular Dorothys friend and musical director Ernie Dunstal; John Lloyd, her publicist and loyal fan, who is sadly no longer with us; Hilda Brown her secretary and Peter Bennett a stalwart friend and confidant, who with his partner Des Brown were there for her when she needed it most.

See Him Rog? I knew him when I had big tits and straw in my hair.

These were the first words I ever heard Dorothy Squires utter. She was walking down Wardour Street in the West End with her then husband Roger Moore and her recording manager Norman Newell, when she spotted my father and me. My lovely Bert, she squealed. Then, totally ignoring Roger, gave my father a smacker of a wet kiss. I was an 18-year-old stage-struck kid in London for an audition that day so you can imagine how blown away I was, not only by Dorothys mesmerising personality but by meeting The Saint himself. This was pre-Bond but Roger was already a big star.

Dorothy and Roger were on their way to a private showing of a film called Tammy Tell Me True, starring Sandra Dee and John Gavin. Dorothy had written the theme tune for it and she was on a terrific high. So, still ignoring Roger, she invited no, demanded that we go with her to the champagne reception. After too much champagne and the 2-hour film, we emerged blinkingly and half-cut into the harsh daylight of the street. A bunch of young girls immediately surrounded Roger pleading for his autograph. We walked on with Dorothy who pretended not to notice the gaggle of giggling girls then, turning to Roger, she yelled come on you prick well be late. I was to realise later that her total indifference to Rogers star status was because their marriage was on the rocks. Roger, ever the gentleman, graciously extricated himself from his adoring fans and joined us but it was obvious things werent right not long after that their much publicised break-up hit the press. Putting on a brave face, Dorothy linked arms with my father and me and announced in a commanding voice that we were all going to Raymonds Revue Bar shed booked a table to celebrate. So, with Dorothy taking the lead, we made our way to Soho. Id never seen a place like it. Its intoxicating atmosphere engulfed me.

Soho pulsed with life in those days. Flashing neon signs advertised adult entertainment: strip clubs, massage parlours, adult bookshops and the like. Touts were standing in doorways of sleazy clubs. Come inside, they are naked and they move, they bawled to anyone within earshot. Situated adjacent to these clubs was one of the more respectable if not entirely innocent venues in Soho, the Windmill Theatre, where comedians battled valiantly to get laughs from jaded mainly male audiences in grubby raincoats. The only time the comics would raise a titter if youll excuse the expression was when the men, having sat through all five shows to ogle the girls, would see one of the artists going wrong. An alternative source of entertainment was when someone would vacate a front row seat and a stampede would ensue to claim it; men would clamber over the backs of seats to get a better view of the naked girls standing motionless in tableaus. Outside the stage door chorus boys lounged, still with their make-up on, having a well-earned fag the tobacco variety of course.

Opposite, in Archer Street, stood a group of musicians on the short stretch of pavement between Great Windmill Street and Rupert Street. I asked Dorothy what they were doing. She told me that they were collecting their pay. As long as I can remember, she said, musicians have gathered on Mondays to collect their fee from previous gigs and see if there was any work for the coming week. It was like a club; they meet to share stories about gigs, club owners, and just generally shoot the breeze. Dorothy knew all this stuff because shed started out as a band singer when she was a kid; in her words she was one of the boys and often preferred to travel on the band bus with the musicians than travel in her own car.

Across the road from Archer Street was our destination; a huge red neon sign flashed announcing Raymonds Revue Bar. The club was the creation of property magnate and magazine publisher Paul Raymond for whom some years later I worked in another of his venues the Celebrity Restaurant. It was at the Celebrity that Dorothy met and fell for another of her beaus Keith Miller but more of that later. The Revue Bar offered traditional burlesque-style entertainment, which included strip tease. It was popular with leading entertainment figures of the day and was one of the few legal venues in London to show full-frontal nudity by turning itself into a members-only club. I asked Dot if she was a member. She said she didnt need to be; her face was her membership. So, ignoring the doorman she made a grand entrance with the rest of us trailing in her wake.