Freddie Mercury & Me
When I left school at 15, I knew little about the band Queen. I mean, I knew who they were, but I hadn’t seen them or photographed them. Thankfully, that was about to change. Partially thanks to Shirley from Purley.
My first and last full-time job was at Fox Photos, in Farringdon Road, London, one of the world's biggest news and press corporations.
I was shooting lots of bands at night and at weekends, but at work, my first task at Fox was to work in their photo library, which was enormous. On day one, I was introduced to a nice girl who had been working there for a few years. Her name was Shirley, from Purley. Actually, I think she was from up the road in Islington, but I couldn’t stop calling her Shirley from Purley.
Anyway, Shirley showed me the ropes and what to do. This entailed collecting all photo request dockets placed into a tray by random people in the building. We had to read the docket then, see what photographs had been requested, and get up and down the ladders in and out of boxes in the library to find as many suitable photos as possible for the client. I would then jump on a little old white company pushbike and deliver it to the client. Often, these were the big national newspapers around Fleet Street, London, including TV. There were no computers; it was all manual and constant searching. Now, when Shirley and I had a moment to chat during any given day, all she would talk about was Queen. It was Queen this, Queen that. Freddie this, Roger that. So, the band were creeping up on my radar.
A year or so after Shirley from Purley started banging on about her beloved Queen, I discovered they were performing in London's Hyde Park. The gig was part of Queen’s ‘A Day at The Races’ tour. Now, if you were of a certain age and were in the UK, you would remember how hot that summer was.
I did my best to get a photo pass but had no luck. My friend Matthew Taylor, a great photographer and I arrived in the early afternoon at Hyde Park. We had no passes, so it was plan B. Basically, turn up and just blag it. Backstage passes in those days were invariably just sticky passes with no name or details other than ‘Back Stage” on them. So, if I managed to get past security and actually get backstage, the next thing I had to do was to subtly mingle with the drunkest person I could find who had a sticky backstage pass on their clothes and then subtly peel it off without them feeling or seeing it and stick it on my shirt. Then it was job done. Well, I said, job done, which was not actually true because I now had to get some meaningful photographs.
Little did I know that over the course of the next few hours, I would be talking about this moment for the rest of my life. When I say talking, that includes newspaper interviews, appearances on TV, sales of prints in galleries around the world, as well as from my website.
Looking at it now, what happened to me was quite a momentous event as a teenager and as a music photographer.
Security was tight at the opening to the backstage area. There were two big chaps standing at the entrance with arms folded, doing their best to look intimidating. Matthew and I watched them from a distance without looking directly at them whilst we observed them. Well, I did, as Matthew was particularly bad in these situations and often proved to be a liability. Saying that, we were really close friends, and I did my best to corral him into thinking like a ninja. Sadly, that rarely worked, and he always seemed to be the one who got caught and thrown out. Some of those situations are very funny. The Led Zeppelin film premier, along with his attempt at photographing Bob Dylan, springs to mind. He failed and fell at the first hurdle. So, his form was pretty bad. So, here we were, watching the two big security guys out of the corner of our eyes. We needed to get closer without giving the game away. So, we slowly moved nearer and to the side of the security guards. We were leaning against the fence that had the entrance backstage. In those situations, you have to wait, seize that moment and be quick. We waited and waited, and eventually, I could see something happening. Some people were trying to blag their way in and arguing with the security guards. I moved closer whilst not looking directly at the situation, in a kind of ‘nothing to see here’ pose. Suddenly, the two guards moved just a little bit too far in front of the entrance to confront the small crowd of loud blaggers. That was the instant I said ‘quick, let’s go’. I slipped in behind them and inside the enormous backstage area. I didn’t look back I just aimed for the busiest and most crowded area. I said to Matthew, ‘Phew, that was good’ as I turned to see his response. Well, there wasn’t one. He wasn’t there. He was still at the entrance, and I could see him pleading with the two security guards. Not for the first time, he didn’t get in. To make matters worse for him, they now knew that he was trying to get in, and therefore, as they say, his card had been marked. He was now known to them, and it was over for him. We did have a laugh about it a few days later when we met. So, now I am backstage, and I need a ‘sticky’ backstage pass. As I said earlier, I need to find the drunkest person with a pass on a bit of clothing they won’t feel when I peel it off. It wasn’t long before I found my target. As I said, the backstage was very busy. I found a crowd of merry souls. I said hi, Dave, to one of them. He said no, I am not Dave; it’s Steve (or something like that), and that’s when my nonsensical friendly conversation started. We chatted, and I joined in with him and his friends. He was sufficiently intoxicated, slurring and swaying beautifully. It didn’t take me too long to help him stand up and, at the same time, relieve him of his backstage pass. I could now move around without fear of being slung out.
The hours ticked by, and before long, it was early evening, and Kiki Dee was about to perform as one of the supports that day. She had a rather large cardboard cut-out of Elton John on stage when she sang the hit she recorded with Elton, ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart’. She was fabulous and still is to this day. Now, having the pass, I managed to get around to the front of the stage to photograph her, and then I wandered backstage again, where I was looking for any photo opportunities. As the sun was going down, and the light was fading, it was now Queen time. The atmosphere amongst the one hundred and fifty thousand fans was electric. This was a big gig, and everyone seemed excited as Queen were due onstage any minute. You could feel that it was nearly showtime. People were moving around with purpose and the backstage area was slowly emptying as everyone was moving out into the vast area of Hyde Park to watch this incredible band.
As I wandered around backstage and started to head out to the front, I carried on looking about. I had a tendency for snooping into restricted spaces at gigs, which, if you could muster enough unthinking confidence, no one seemed to question. Ahead of me, I noticed a small commotion under the stage. It was very dark there, but a small light was on someone. So, clambering over scaffolding poles under the stage area, I went to see what was going on... There he was, in a white boiler suit, being handed a microphone. With minutes to go before the start of the show, I moseyed on over to him and playfully asked, “Who are you?”
“Freddie.” He replied cheerfully, seeming to appreciate the cheek of my question before asking my name in return. After a brief chat, I asked him if I could take a few photos. “Of course you can, dear boy!” was his reply, so I did. With a portly stage assistant to my left giving him last-minute instructions, Freddie struck a couple of poses for me, looking like Count Dracula due to the lighting being held below him. Surprisingly relaxed, I thought, considering he was due on stage any minute. “Off anywhere nice?” I asked him. He just smiled and pointed upwards to the hole above his head. With that, the sound of Queen, Roger Taylor, John Deacon and Brian May’s guitar rang out and the platform Freddie had been standing on started to levitate, rising straight up and onto the stage for the start of their show.
These two photos I took at the moment I first met Freddie under the stage.
This short video shows Freddie just as he joined the band on stage. It wasn’t long before he removed his boiler suit. It was just his leotard from then on. As shown in my photo below.
I made my way back around to the front of the crowd as fast as I could to capture Queen. Here is Freddie, now stripped to a white leotard, in all his camp, charismatic glory.
This would be the first time I met Freddie and photographed Queen and began my working relationship with them, which continues today.
Above is the wonderful Kiki Dee with Elton John as a 3/4 size cardboard cutout
This was my and Matthew’s view through the security gate. Yes, the one that we needed to get through. Poor old Matthew failed again.
On this hot and sunny afternoon, I took various photographs whilst wandering around amongst Queen fans in Hyde Park. This couple look so 1970s
The show was cut short at the end as they had a local government authority curfew. They must stop at a certain time. If they continued after that cut time, police on the side of the stage would arrest the band. Freddie said he didn’t fancy the idea of being slung into a police cell just wearing his leotard. This was 1976. Policing was slightly different then, and I agree with Freddie.
What a day that was; for me, this is music history gold. I hope you agree!
Until my next story, its goodbye for now.
Best wishes,
Danny