Freddie Mercury: The Biography (25 page)

Mid-afternoon, dressed high-clone and wearing a silver amulet, Mercury left for Wembley in his limousine, accompanied by Jim
Hutton. It was Hutton’s first live Queen performance. Arriving with an hour to spare, the star swept into the private enclosure
and settled into his trailer. Simultaneously broadcast live to over one billion people worldwide, Live Aid was the first time
a concert on that scale had been attempted. Consequently, nerves were fraught behind the scenes. It was a show that required
state-of-the-art equipment, that included a revolving stage, split into three segments, one for the band in performance, one
for the next band
to set up their equipment and one for the band just finished to dismantle gear. Considering the logistics, it was surprising
that six hours into the event, they were running only half an hour late.

Following David Bowie’s set, with Wembley hooked up to the JFK Stadium, Queen came on stage, introduced as ‘the next combo’
by comedians Mel Smith and Griff Rhys Jones. Within eighteen minutes, as Mercury predicted, they blew everyone away. All four
played for all their worth, delivering a punchy, edited medley of their greatest hits, which got the Wembley crowd, Queen
supporters or not, rocking on their feet. But, undeniably, Mercury, the star, shone the brightest.

He was nervous, but he disguised it well as he blasted into ‘Hammer to Fall’. During Brian May’s guitar solo, he dug the end
of the microphone stand into his groin, pretending to play frantic lead guitar along its chrome rod. He took time out mischievously
to torment a BBC cameraman filming from the wings; within minutes he had begun visibly to enjoy himself. By ‘Crazy Little
Thing Called Love’ he was bathed in sweat, and the sheer magnetism of his performance was so alluring that he had the audience
enraptured and eating out of his hand. As he prowled the length of the stage, to the stirring intro to ‘We Will Rock You’,
he knew he had taken control. ‘Do it!’ he ordered the crowd to sing to him, growling, ‘I like it! Sing it again!’ Then plunging
non-stop into ‘We Are the Champions’, he had the stadium swaying in a sea of arms, a moving display of unity. Love him or
loathe him, Mercury was untouchable that day, and the watching world now knew it, too.

Fellow performer Paul Young agrees: ‘I’d always liked Queen, but that was the night I said to myself: these boys really are
fantastic. Their sound was amazing, and Freddie proved just what a showman he was.’

Leaving the crowd in a lather, Queen quit the stage. The
second Mercury reached his trailer, he gasped, ‘Thank God, that’s over,’ and promptly downed a double vodka.

They’d done it, and they knew it, but never more so than when Elton John burst in shouting, ‘You bastards! You stole the show!’

It was a sentiment echoed by almost everyone and upheld years later when the event was rescreened on Live Aid’s tenth anniversary.
Thin Lizzy’s Scott Gorham recalls, ‘Man, that was six hours of Euro wimp! Everyone was wondering, God, who asked them along?
And then Queen came on, and there’s Fred stickin’ out his chest and daring the world not to like them. It was amazing, like
the rebirth of Queen on the spot. When you’d seen those guys, who wanted to see the rest?’ In fact Mercury did. The party
animal ignored the lavish after-gig bash and went home instead with Jim Hutton – to settle quietly in front of the TV with
his cats and watch the American half of the show.

Live Aid’s effect was far-reaching. And the man in a sense responsible for it all was BBC newsreader Michael Buerk. ‘When
the whole Live Aid thing got going I was in South Africa,’ he says, ‘the one country which couldn’t have cared less about
the starving in Ethiopia. My original feeling, I must admit, was that it was a bandwagon thing which would die out in a week
and wouldn’t achieve anything in effective terms. I didn’t see much connection with the pop world and dying people. Shows
you how wrong I was.

‘I didn’t see the actual concert as South Africa didn’t show it. But it certainly increased the level of consciousness about
the situation, which in turn placed pressure on governments and inter-governmental departments around the world, and that
was a good thing. Two million people were estimated to be due to die in that famine and in the end 800,000 did, so Live Aid
was at least, in part, responsible for saving over a million lives.’

There had also been spin-off benefits. For some acts, taking part had rejuvenated their careers. Others say that Queen’s appearance
helped to redeem the band after the Sun City débâcle. What Live Aid certainly did was introduce Queen to a new generation
of fans, and their popularity, worldwide, rose to an all-time high. Roger Taylor admitted to reporters on the eve of the event,
‘Of course it is a wonderful cause and will make a pot of money for that wonderful cause. But make no mistake. We’re doing
it for our own glory as well.’ It worked. Queen record sales increased five-fold, and Mercury’s solo album
Mr Bad Guy
leapt back into the charts, tripling in popularity.

After Live Aid, Queen scattered again. Inspired by their triumph, their thoughts would turn to a major tour for 1986. They
would be approached, too, about writing music for a Hollywood movie. At the start of July, Mercury had already released ‘Made
in Heaven’, another solo single, and the next one was scheduled for some weeks away. But before all that he decided to take
a holiday. He chose the Mediterranean island of Ibiza, an international resort notorious for its nightlife and lively discos
such as Pacha, Amnesia and the Ku Club. This time, on Jim Beach’s recommendation, he stayed for the first time in Pikes Hotel.
The luxurious complex was owned by Tony Pike and would come to feature regularly in the star’s life over the next five years.

Pike, with whom Mercury would become good friends, is a down-to-earth man with little patience for any form of pretension.
Pikes Hotel enjoys a worldwide reputation as an exclusive and relaxing hideaway, and its regular clientele includes such stars
as George Michael and the former Real Madrid goalkeeper, now heartthrob crooner, Julio Iglesias. But if anyone comes to the
hotel with the intention of swaggering around, they either have to come down to earth or accept that nobody there is going
to be impressed.

‘We had one particular British TV actor staying here once who was so pompous,’ recalls Pike. ‘He was very strong on how great
he was. On his arrival he immediately warned me that our main gates had better have strong locks on them because when word
got around that he was there, the place would be under siege. It was a load of rot!’ With this experience of egomania, when
Mercury first set foot in the hotel complex, Pike had his reasons to suspect that he had more trouble on his hands.

‘I first met Freddie just after Live Aid,’ says Pike. ‘I already knew Jim Beach through a mutual acquaintance, but I hadn’t
met any of Queen. So this particular day Freddie and his party of friends were due, and I got word that they’d arrived. I
went down to the courtyard to greet Freddie personally, who gave me the campest of handshakes with an equally camp “Hello”
to match, and that was it. He didn’t say another word, and I thought, Oh, this one’s going to be difficult.

‘He had a whole entourage with him, which included Jim Hutton, Peter Straker and Peter Freestone. They were occupying the
whole of the hotel’s oldest part for easier security arrangements, and without another word Freddie brushed past me and disappeared.
I stayed in the courtyard talking to some people, and minutes later he appeared out on a balcony above, when I clearly heard
him say, in a way that I took to be criticism, that the ceilings were all very low. I looked up, just as Freddie looked down,
and our eyes met. A split-second later he called out, “Only joking!” and laughed, which made me laugh, too, and broke the
tension between us.’

For Mercury this was a place to forget being famous and unwind – in a way that was impossible in other sumptuous hotels, where
staff are forever chasing tips through five-star treatment. In the past, precisely this kind of fawning had suited Mercury
perfectly. Now he valued different things, and Pikes was the only place where he felt he was able to be himself.

‘Freddie had such wonderful times,’ says Pike, ‘because he surrounded himself here only with friends, not paid employees but
people who were with him because he liked them, and they him.’ Pike got to know the star well over the years, and he maintains,
‘The absolute truth is that he was a wonderful human being, very attentive to others’ needs, would always apologise for anything
untoward happening and was eternally grateful to the staff for doing really only what they’re paid to do.’

Among those who invariably accompanied Mercury on holiday was Barbara Valentin, who, according to Pike, could be just as outrageous
and funny as Mercury. ‘We had some wonderful, crazy times together there,’ Valentin recalls.

The length of his stay would depend on what else was going on in his life, but he enjoyed dinner parties, playing tennis –
often partnered by Pike, who admits that Mercury was more of a poser than a player – and he could also be persuaded to entertain.
‘He’d be lounging by the pool,’ Pike recalls, and suddenly say, “Go and get the piano.” Well, I mean, a piano is a heavy thing,
but, no matter, six or seven men would stagger down to the poolside with it, and Fred would play and sing for everyone – and
that ended up including absolutely everyone in the hotel, not just his own set.

‘Sometimes he’d then get campy and start horsing around, throwing people into the water and generally having fun, which again
would inevitably end up also involving other guests. But he never upset anyone who preferred to keep their distance from this
kind of carry-on.’

About Mercury’s homosexuality Pike goes on, ‘In all the years Freddie came here, never in my experience did he push it onto
anyone. Sure he loved to camp it up. He was gay, but he was very secure in that fact, and unless he was in the mood to caper,
you’d never witness his homosexuality. In fact, most women that I saw found him very attractive indeed. He had a
good physique and was a very masculine-looking man. He was also not one of those gay men in whose company you feel uneasy.
I have experienced that, but never with Freddie.’

Although Jim Hutton always accompanied Mercury to Pikes, it was some time before Tony Pike knew the nature of their relationship.
He explains, ‘It was about their third trip, when one day I said to him, “Where do you fit in, then?” Jim is a very quiet
and reserved person, very masculine, too, and by this time I knew he wasn’t involved in music. There had been no demonstrative
behaviour between them on any occasion, so I wasn’t being crass, and maybe he gauged that in the few seconds he took to answer,
because he looked me straight in the eye then asked, “Don’t you know?” I shook my head, and he replied, “I’m Freddie’s man.”
I felt a complete idiot and awful for prying when I hadn’t meant to.’

Pike developed a deep regard for Hutton. ‘He and Freddie never exhibited their love in public,’ he says. ‘No arms around each
other or any other indication that they were lovers. Fred was so publicly the outrageous showman of rock, but in private I
think Jim had a steadying influence on him. He was a very nice guy.’

On their return to London, Mercury set arrangements in hand gradually to move his belongings from his Stafford Terrace flat
into Garden Lodge. He still wouldn’t take up residence there himself just yet, but when he did, Jim Hutton would move with
him.

The film for which Queen had been asked to write the music was
Highlander,
to be directed by Russell Mulcahy on a $20-million budget. Queen had agreed to this on condition that one of their numbers
was used as the signature tune. Drinking vodka and chain-smoking throughout, Mercury worked with the rest of the band in Musicland,
Mountain and Town House Studios on the new album. His solo single ‘Living On My Own’, released on 2 September, had barely
made the
top fifty, and his aspirations were clearly much higher for Queen’s material.

All work was suspended, though, as he celebrated his thirty-ninth birthday with a spectacular party held at Hendersons in
Munich. There was always a theme now to these parties, and this one was to be a black-and-white drag ball. During his stay
in Germany he continued to dangle both Winnie Kirkenberger and Patrick on a string. He also flirted openly with other men,
despite his clearly deepening involvement with Jim Hutton. Yet even with Hutton, perhaps at times feeling hemmed in, Mercury
was capable of being imperiously dismissive. On occasions Hutton would leave Mercury on account of this, only to be repeatedly
coaxed back.

Back working in the studio again, one track quickly emerged, written collectively by the band. It appealed strongly enough
to everyone to become Queen’s first and only single of 1985. ‘One Vision’ was released on 4 November and, riding on the wave
of their renewed popularity, it reached number seven in the charts. It would also feature on a future soundtrack album for
Sidney J. Furie’s movie,
Iron Eagle.
A fortnight later yet another Mercury solo single came out, ‘Love Me Like There’s No Tomorrow’.

Critics attacked ‘One Vision’, viewing its lyrics as a Live Aid cash-in, but Mercury ignored the accusations. He concentrated
instead on taking part in the fashion world’s charity event, Fashion Aid, held at the Royal Albert Hall. He had become involved
through his friendship with fashion designer Elizabeth Emanuel, who, along with David Emanuel, had designed Princess Diana’s
famous fairy-tale wedding dress in 1981.

‘I was originally introduced to Freddie through Wayne Eagling at the Royal Ballet one night,’ says Elizabeth Emanuel, ‘and
from then on there was a whole crowd of us who often got together. We went to the same places, the same parties and so on.
When Fashion Aid came along, David and I had a whole
section to handle, as well as a ballet section, which Wayne was choreographing. We were to do outfits for Michael and Shakira
Caine, Anthony and Georgina Andrews, John Hurt, Robin Cousins and others. Jane Seymour was to model a wedding gown of ours,
and I asked Freddie if he would partner her. He was up for it at once.’