The ever-glam Diana Dors circa early 1980s

As Britain’s best-loved blonde bombshell of the post-War era, Diana Dors is as synonymous with mid-50s’ glamour as a pink Cadillac.  But the former Rank starlet was much, much more than just a buxom pin-up.  With an astonishing ability to reinvent herself and move with the times, the 60s and 70s saw Diana develop into one of the UK’s most respected character actresses with gritty stage and TV roles, a chat show, several books and even a spell as a GMTV agony aunt to her credit.  In the wake of a recent showcase hosted by the BFI and DVD releases of some her early work, one of the tragedies of Diana’s death at the age of fifty-two is that she never lived to see the recognition her work is now receiving.

'Swingin' Dors': originally released in 1960

One of the albums in the Pye vaults that piqued my interest most was Swingin’ Dors.  Recorded by Diana Dors at the height of her UK television show’s popularity and produced and arranged by Wally Stott as was, the long-player had been released on sumptuous red vinyl with an innovative gatefold sleeve; a truly no-expenses-spared affair that echoed the glamour of the Swindon starlet.  By the time I joined Castle Music (Pye Records’ erstwhile custodian) in the late 1990s, Swingin’ Dors had become a collector’s item, and although there had been sporadic reissues these were invariably low budget cheapies or bootlegs, with little or no attempt made to replicate the deluxe feel of the original.  A long-time fan of Diana, it became a personal goal to see the release reissued in all its glory but it would take nearly ten years for this to come about.

One afternoon in April 2007, I took a call from a colleague in the Royalties department.

“Do you know anything about Diana Dors?”

Tentatively I replied, “yes… ish … how can I help?”

“Well, we’ve had a call from her nephew…”

“Nephew…?  Do you mean her son..?  Was the chap’s name Jason, by any chance?”

“Yes, that’s right!  Listen, I’ve got a number for him – could you possibly give him a call?”

“What’s it regarding?”

“It seems a Japanese label has released her album and he was wondering if we’d licensed it to them.”

“No… not us. I’d better call him.”

In fact I didn’t phone Jason until the following Friday, but in a curious way the delay proved to be auspicious.  Jason Dors Lake is Diana’s son by her third husband actor Alan Lake and, along with many other people’s, my heart had gone out to him when his mother died from cancer in 1984.  The double blow of the loss of his father some six months later was incomprehensibly tragic.  More recently I had seen him on television in Channel 4’s 2003 documentary Who Got Diana Dors’ Millions? Having watched the programme, clearly it hadn’t been Jason and much of the mystery surrounding the late star’s estate and “missing” assets continues to rattle on, seemingly with no  solution.  It was for this very reason that Castle Music had previously chosen not to release Swingin’ Dors because of the lack of paperwork and any easy means of contacting Diana’s estate…

With his ready sense of humour, Jason and I quickly established a rapport over the phone.  I explained the chances of him slapping a “cease and desist” on the offending label were slim, ostensibly because the record had been on sale for some time and because it was a bootleg, there’d be no easy way of tracing those responsible.  As we talked, a germ of an idea began to form.  Given he was the rightful beneficiary of Diana’s estate and in the absence of any third party claims (of which there had been none), were Jason willing to grant Castle Music a license, then perhaps together we could create a legitimate release – one of which we could all be proud, packaged properly in its original format and promoted with his full endorsement?  Neither of us needed much encouragement to pursue this idea and as we said our goodbyes, he added, “I’m so glad you rang.  I was feeling pretty low today… it’s the anniversary of my mother’s death and I was just thinking, ‘come on, Mum, send us a lucky break’ and the phone rang.  I wasn’t going to pick up but I’m pleased I did.” As he spoke, my arms began to quiver with goose bumps.

Within in a few weeks a deal had been thrashed out and I was on my way to meet Jason at his home on the sunny Kent coast.  Tall, good-looking and instantly recognisable as the son of his famous parents, it’s fair to say we got on like a house on a fire.  Sitting on the deck, with the waves lapping the shore and a chilled glass of rosé, we spent the afternoon going through what few mementos he’d been able to retrieve prior to the sale of the family home Orchard Manor in Berkshire.  We even came across Diana’s first husband Dennis Hamilton’s driving license complete with speeding endorsements!  Over the years, fan and collector Paul Sullivan, who runs the official Diana Dors web site, has furnished Jason with copies of photographs and other memorabilia, but even so it was sad to see just how few personal photos Jason had.  Over the coming months and thanks in no small part to Paul, who gave freely both of his time and his archive, the project began to take shape.  Uncanny coincidences also began to unfold.

Diana's Cadillac convertible is on the left (Photo courtesy of Alex Szczepanski)

Speaking to my brother about the release, it transpired that in the early 1950s our recently widowed grandmother, then living in leafy Putney, had put her house on the market and that Diana and Dennis Hamilton had been to view it.  An authority on classic cars, he also told me that in the 1970s he’d been offered a powder blue Cadillac previously owned by Diana Dors.  At the time he’d declined, as he was more into pared down SoCal hot-rods than gas-guzzling showboats.  A few years later, he caught sight of said Caddy languishing in a West London breakers yard and had the presence of mind to document it for posterity (above right).  I was relieved to discover that the car had since been salvaged, fully restored and is now leading a life of ease befitting its former owner cruising the highways and byways not of Swindon but Sweden!

Diana relaxes in her dressing room

Powered by industrial quantities of Twinings Rose Pouchong, Dan Rosen took the design reins and with his painstaking eye for detail the album was replicated as close to the original as possible but with the added bonus of a memorabilia-laden LP-sized booklet.  Including an essay by Paul and with contributions from Malcolm Baumgart and Diana’s friend singer Billie Davis, many previously unseen photographs were also featured, notably candid shots of Diana relaxing in Cannes and reclining on the beach with her dogs.   As well as the vinyl edition, Swingin’ Dors was also made available as a CD digipack complete with the split gatefold cover and a dinky CD-sized booklet.  All in all, the pair looked splendid and as the October 23rd release date drew near, we began to circulate review copies to the music press.  Given the project had first been mooted on the anniversary of her passing it seemed appropriate that its release was to fall on what would have been Diana’s 76th birthday, although that was more by accident than design.

Ooh la la! Diana performs in Las Vegas

The music on Swingin’ Dors was something of a revelation to me.  Wally Stott’s superb orchestral arrangements combined with a great song selection and Diana’s understated vocals make for a sophisticated yet light-hearted listen.  Her warmth and down-to-earth personality shine through and it’s easy to see why, in her later years, she became such a hit on chat shows and panel games.  I was genuinely surprised at just how good the album is and judging by its lavish wrapping, extravagant by 1960′s standards, clearly Pye had had high expectations, too.  Given Diana had made several well-publicised motion pictures in Hollywood, Swingin’ Dors also saw release in the US on Columbia Records and in many other overseas territories including Mexico.  With its suggestive feel ‘Roller Coaster Blues’ is the perfect vehicle for the pouty star’s intimate style, and on ‘Come By Sunday’ her tongue-in-cheek humour really comes to the fore.  In the wake of the reissue’s limited release, club deejays lucky enough to find a copy were reputedly spinning tracks for retro sophisticates and at the time remixes of some were mooted.

Perhaps not surprisingly, there was to be a further twist in the tale.  In August we learned that the Sanctuary Group (who’d acquired Castle Music in 2000) had themselves been bought by the Universal Music Group.  Overnight the company was plunged into uncertainty and with it, the release schedule.  No-one had any answers and those that did were keeping schtum.  Phones rang off their hooks, speculation was rife and morale plummeted.  With impending redundancy looming, our production team worked valiantly to ensure that parts were sent out to manufacture before the shutters came down.  After all the effort that had gone into this release in particular, we couldn’t believe the rug was being pulled from underneath us.   With some trepidation, I informed Jason.  Miraculously, both the vinyl and CD releases came in on time and were delivered to our distributor.  Initial orders had been promising and reviews glowing but with so much doubt surrounding the label’s future, retail customers found it nigh impossible to get hold of stock and  ultimately both formats sold in minimal quantity.

That September I left Sanctuary’s employ where I had worked as a label manager and latterly a consultant on and off for almost ten years.  It seems ironic that of all the releases I had most wanted to get my teeth into, Swingin’ Dors was to prove my swansong for the label.  So tonight, on what would have been her 79th birthday, I am raising a glass in honour of Diana and slipping Swingin’ Dors on the deck.

With grateful thanks to Jason Dors Lake, Marcella Trowell, Paul Sullivan and Dan Rosen.

One of my favourites: Diana on the set of 'The Unholy Wife' (1957)

Are you gonna be there? Well, I got my invite.

Mondays aren’t generally renowned for their life-affirming qualities.  But Monday 21st October 1985 was to prove an exception and has taught me never to judge the day by its downbeat wrapper.  My first driving lesson had seen me happily pootle around Tooting’s leafy side streets, and whilst I’d managed not to hit anything or anyone, I sensed from the instructor’s ashen face on dropping me home that I probably wasn’t quite ready to be let loose on Hyde Park Corner at rush hour (no namby pamby traffic lights in those days, either).  The indecent haste with which he then lit a cigarette and floored it suggested I wasn’t wrong.  No sooner was I indoors, than the phone started ringing.  With teapot mid-air, in customary fashion my mother looked at me, I at her and then at my brother as we broke into a well-worn chorus of “oh, no – who can that be?” none of us wanting to get stuck on the phone while the PG grew cold.

Inevitably I drew the short straw and picked up the phone, “8591?”

“Are you doing anything?” was my sister’s urgent reply.

“Just about to have some nosh.”

“Well, forget that and get up to Capital Radio.  Roger Scott’s giving away tickets for a Carl Perkins gig to the first twenty people who turn up to the foyer in 50s gear.”

“Can’t you go?  You’re only down the road.”

“I’ve already had my break.”

“Oh, all right.  When is it?”

“Tonight!”

A frequent visitor to these shores from the time he first toured alongside Chuck Berry and The Animals in 1964, Rockabilly pioneer Carl Perkins was always assured a warm welcome whenever he came to the UK.  One of the original Sun stars, Perkins wrote songs that became Rock’n’Roll standards almost as soon as the ink was dry, earning covers by former label-mate Elvis Presley and later The Beatles – not bad going for a poor ol’ country boy from Tiptonville!  Regular appearances alongside Johnny Cash in the early 70s, coupled with the launch of his Ol’ Blue Suede’s Back album at the height of the Rock’n’Roll revival and sporadic tours in the 1980s and 90s, ensured this modest yet supremely talented gentleman had a special place in the hearts (and record collections) of his many European fans.  That’s hardly surprising really, bearing in mind that in 1956 he’d given the world ‘Blue Suede Shoes’ and from that point had been on a mission to rock its collective socks off.

Castle Select's 2002 reissue which featured Carl's previously unreleased track-by-track narration

Born too late to have witnessed his first UK appearances, and still too young to tag along to the launch party for his Ol’ Blue Suede’s Back album in 1978, it wasn’t until that night in 1985 that I finally got to see the great Carl Perkins perform live.  His Sun recordings had reverberated around the house as I was growing up, thanks to my sister Sue’s Rockabilly leanings and her particular soft spot for Pa Gherkins, by which Buchanan & Goodmanism he was affectionately known.  So when Sue phoned me that Autumn day to tell me Capital Radio deejay Roger Scott was giving away a limited number of tickets for a “Carl Perkins television show” to the first people to turn up at the station dressed in appropriate Rock’n’Roll attire, in truth I didn’t need much persuasion to put my cat clothes on and high-tail off to Euston Tower in the hope of being one of the lucky few to secure ring-side seats.  Having been given the sartorial thumbs up by Mr Scott and awarded our tickets, so began the scramble to get home, doll ourselves up and hopefully cajole our brother Al into driving us to the studios where the show was being recorded that night.

“Come on, it’s starting!!” came the urgent cry as we all bolted into the sitting room brandishing plates of peanut butter on toast and a tray of tea.  Exactly thirty years to the day since the release of its namesake, January 1st 1986 saw Channel 4 air Blue Suede Shoes – A Rockabilly Session, a one-off television special that has since come to be regarded a classic, not least for its stellar line-up.  For too long Rock’n’Roll had been confined to the media back burner and aside from a few specialist shows, radio airplay was limited in spite of a thriving underground scene.  Contemporary bands such as The Stray Cats had succeeded in breaking into the mainstream in the early 80s, and although their hits had tailed off by 1983, they remained a popular live act.  Despite enviable credentials and retro appeal (oft-plundered by fashionistas and advertising agencies alike to wit: BBH’s Levi’s 501s campaign), the Big Beat barely registered on the uber-trendy Richter scale of youff programmes such as The Tube, so the idea of an entire hour’s peak-time viewing dedicated to the genre was nothing short of remarkable, and indicative of the pioneering stance championed by Channel 4 in its early days.

Music publisher Graham Nolder had first conceived the idea of a TV show where Carl Perkins could perform his classic songs alongside an all-star band after the pair had briefly worked together in the early 80s.  By 1984 the time was right and, having recently made the reunion album Class Of ’55 with fellow Sun luminaries Jerry Lee Lewis, Johnny Cash and Roy Orbison, Carl was clearly in nostalgic mood and agreed to take part.  In order to persuade some of the scene’s hottest players to come on board (all of whom shared the happy coincidence of being his friends), Carl duly recorded a series of personal video messages along the lines of “Hello, I bet you didn’t expect this.  I have been invited to record a TV show of my Rockabilly songs and I’d be really honoured if you could come along to play.” The tapes were mailed out and the response was overwhelmingly positive, although sadly none of his Class Of ’55 compadres was able to participate in the live show.  Meanwhile Carl’s career was enjoying an unexpected fillip thanks to a cameo appearance in John Landis’ black comedy Into The Night, in which he engages in a bizarre knife-wielding fight-to-the-death with David Bowie.  Although the show had originally been mooted shortly after Carl received the Elvis Presley Foundation Memorial Award for his contribution to Memphis art forms in 1984, such was everyone’s schedule that it would be a full 18 months before they could all be available in one place at the same time.  That place turned out to be London’s Limehouse Studios, on the site of what is now Canary Wharf.

Put your cat clothes on...

Pre-Docklands Light Railway, pre-Jubilee line extension, we were glad of a lift across town that October evening to a remote warehouse-like venue that was literally in the middle of nowhere at the furthest reach of a dead-end street.  In that infuriating way brothers have, Al was not convinced “we’d got this right” and seemed reluctant to leave us, clearly envisaging Dickensian cut-purses and the like but we told him not to worry and he duly split, the Camaro’s tail-lights glowing like embers as he drove off.  Needless to say, we’d given no thought as to how we’d make the trek back to Wandsworth; getting here was all we’d been worried about.  As we stood outside in the inky black chill with the wind lapping off the river and rustling our petticoats, the crowd grew steadily and an atmosphere of anticipation began to crackle in the frosty night air.  We stood for nearly an hour watching the good and the great being whisked inside and as our tickets didn’t specify who else would be playing, we wiled the time away speculating who Carl’s “friends” might be as we stamped our feet to keep warm.  Suddenly the wait was over, the doors flew open and we were in.

Seated to the left of the stage we watched the technicians setting up and before long Carl emerged to welcome the audience and inform us that “if we’re lucky, they’re gonna see this all over the world”. We’d already spotted Dave Edmunds and Mickey Gee tuning their guitars and knew we were in for a blast when Stray Cats’ bass player Lee Rocker and drummer Slim Jim Phantom also appeared.  With Geraint Watkins on piano and Carl’s son Greg on electric bass, the stage was set and the cameras began to roll.  Teasing us with the opening lyric to ‘Blue Suede Shoes’, Carl then ripped into ‘Boppin’ The Blues’, swiftly followed by another Perkins’ sartorial ode, ‘Put Your Cat Clothes On’.  Aside from the sheer energy that hit us like a tidal wave, what was also immediately evident was the easy rapport between Carl and the other musicians who were clearly relishing performing alongside one of Rock’n’Roll’s founding fathers.

Band introductions complete, the first surprise of the evening came after Slim Jim slipped away leaving a vacant drum kit …enter Ringo Starr!  We couldn’t believe we were sitting feet away from the former moptop watching him reprise ‘Honey Don’t’ which he’d first recorded for 1964’s Beatles For Sale.  Relaxed and in fine fettle, Starr’s trademark drollness came to the fore as he threw Carl a few good-natured – and clearly unrehearsed – verbal curves.  Before we’d had time to catch our breath, Carl was welcoming another Rock legend on stage, none other than guitar great Eric Clapton.  The pair tore into ‘Matchbox’ and traded licks on an equally exuberant ‘Mean Woman Blues’.  What we didn’t realise as we sat transfixed by what was rapidly shaping up to be the gig of the century, was that Clapton had just stepped off a plane from Japan and headed straight from the airport to the studios.  If he was jet-lagged his playing certainly didn’t give it away.

After the pace slowed with a superb rendition of his first Sun release ‘Turn Around’, it was time for the evening’s only female guest to make her entrance.  Remarking that he used to rock this young lady in her cradle, Carl welcomed out feisty Country chanteuse Rosanne Cash.  Duetting on a down-homey ‘Jackson’ that underscored their affection for one another, Cash then rocked out to great effect on ‘What Kinda Girl?’, a Steve Forbert song which had originally appeared on her 1981 US Country #1 album Seven Year Ache.

“This is a special of all the greatest things that could ever happen to me. This is my night with my friends.”

Wondering how the evening could possibly be improved upon, the question was answered when Carl introduced his next guest in emotional tones, “…somebody said he retired. I said, ‘it ain’t true, he will come out, he’ll shake again’ and he is here is to rock with us and celebrate tonight: George Harrison!” The studio fairly erupted as a dapper-looking George strode up, strapped on his guitar and launched into ‘Everybody’s Trying To Be My Baby’, followed by a breathtaking ‘Your True Love’.  No-one could have been left in any doubt as to the deep friendship between the two, as evidenced on their duet ‘The World Is Waiting For The Sunrise’.  Seated alone with Carl, Harrison watched attentively as his friend nimbly demonstrated Les Paul’s famous echo technique; the love and respect Harrison held for him was there for all to see and humbling to behold.

L-R: Carl Perkins, Dave Edmunds & George Harrison (photo courtesy of Mark Lewisohn)

The scene was then set for an informal jam session and with all the musicians seated in a row “like a bunch of 1st graders” it was time for Carl to play the role of teacher, as he led the group into a barnstorming Rock’n’Roll medley.  Kicking off with ‘That’s All Right, Mama’ and segueing into ‘Blue Moon Of Kentucky’, the feel didn’t let up for a moment as the “students” brought it home Gospel-style with a rousing ‘Night Train To Memphis’.  Strumming the opening bars and taking the vocal lead, Harrison introduced another feel-good Perkins classic, ‘Glad All Over’ whilst Carl confessed he couldn’t remember the words!  Admitting it would be remiss to let an occasion such as this go by without mentioning Jerry Lee Lewis, Carl and co. paid tribute to The Killer with ‘Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin On’.

By now many of the audience were taking to the floor to bop and jive as Carl broke into ‘Gone, Gone, Gone’ followed by the undoubted climax of the evening: ‘Blue Suede Shoes’.  Looking back it’s hard to do justice to the electrifying atmosphere of that night such was its magnitude, an event made all the more enjoyable because of its easy-going, organic nature.  What came over on TV was every bit as exciting as watching the performance live; a group of buddies (albeit the superstar kind) having fun and revelling in each other’s playing as though they were jamming at home.  Full marks must go to director Tom Gutteridge who managed to capture that spontaneity without impinging on the natural ebb and flow of the recording.  The sight of Carl on stage surrounded by world-class musicians and friends alike, performing his best known and perhaps best loved song was as fine an endorsement of Rock’n’Roll’s longevity and relevance as anyone could wish to have.

After a stunning encore, a tearful Carl told the audience “I have sung that song since 1955 when I wrote it exactly 30 years ago this month.  I have never in my life enjoyed singing that song like I did tonight with these people, my friends, my Rockabilly buddies and you, the greatest people in the world.  God bless you.”   In conveying his heartfelt thanks, Carl’s humility and generous spirit shone through.  Here was a true originator, an artist who had inspired a generation of musicians to greatness and yet he’d never lost sight of the joy of performing in front of a live audience.

As the crowd began to flock around Carl, Sue and I noticed George standing to the right of the stage unplugging his guitar and exuding characteristic Zen-like calm.  “Let’s go up to him, he’s all on his own.” So we did.  “Excuse me, Mr. Harrison..?” “Here, what’s all this ‘Mr Harrison’, girls?” he replied, smiling as we giggled.  “Well, we don’t know you..!” I replied, coyly.  The three of us chatted for a while, we thanked him for an amazing show and he very graciously autographed our tickets.  With Carl, George, Roger Scott, Carl’s son Greg, and more recently Mickey Gee all sadly gone, I now treasure the memory of that evening all the more.

Buoyed by the international acclaim which followed the broadcast, Carl found himself rebranded a “living legend”, much to his bemusement as he was very much focused on the here and now, writing new material and with plans for a follow-up US TV special already mapped out.  Even so, his illustrious past continued to colour his present and in 1986 he was awarded a Grammy Hall of Fame Award for ‘Blue Suede Shoes’.  In November of that year he was selected for induction into the Rock and Roll Hall Of Fame along with Roy Orbison, joining fellow Sun pioneers Elvis Presley and Jerry Lee Lewis who’d been among the inaugural inductees the year before.  In his autobiography Go, Cat, Go! published a year before his death, Carl describes turning to Roy at the plush awards ceremony at New York’s Waldorf-Astoria Hotel and congratulating his friend, “I’m proud of you”.  Roy responded in kind, adding, “I wish Elvis had lived to experience this.  This is mighty high cotton, isn’t it?” Mighty high cotton, indeed, and pretty much how I still feel about that magical night twenty-five years on.

And although we probably could’ve floated home on a cloud, in case you’re wondering how we actually made it back… Sue started chatting to a couple of Teds who happened to live in Peckham, south-east London.  Much to the annoyance of their girlfriends I don’t doubt, one of them offered us a lift so we all piled into his car.  Sue and I have often pondered what an incongruous sight that must have been; a Datsun Bluebird laden down lowrider style so that its rear axle was practically sparking the tarmac as we sputtered up the Old Kent Road, packed to the gunnels with net petticoats, outsized quiffs and many happy memories of Carl and his friends.

This article was originally published in Now Dig This, Issue No. 331 October 2010

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Carl Perkins & friends: Blue Suede Shoes · A Rockabilly Special is available on DVD from Snapper Music PLC