Free Tom Jones - the Life by Sean Smith Page B

design. He would use a series of hand gestures to make sure the band was in perfect synch with him. Many of his powerful arm movements and body gyrations were code for the band and just as much for their benefit as for the watching audience. Quietly, The Senators were becoming less of a band in their own right and more Tom’s backing group. Gerry Greenberg remembers, ‘He was on a pedestal without anybody saying anything really.’
    Gerry recalls watching them regularly at the New Inn in Taff Street. ‘Tom would sit downstairs having a drink while the band got the show going upstairs.’
    Tom didn’t practise or warm up properly. His voice was nurtured on a diet of beer, cigarettes and curry. Young hopefuls starting off in music then weren’t particularly aware that you needed to care for your voice. As Vernon observes, ‘That was something opera singers did.’
    On one occasion, Vernon suggested Tom should have a singing lesson with Brenda, the music teacher who lived next door to him in Rhydyfelin, to see if there was any advice he should be following. Tom dutifully agreed and popped round. At first Vernon could hear the familiar sound of la-la-la voices running up and down scales, and then it went dead quiet.
    Eventually, Tom came back, red-faced and flustered. ‘You’ll never bloody guess, Vern. She sat on my chest.’

7
The Green Fly Boys
    Tommy Woodward and Vernon Hopkins were kindred spirits united by a love of music and a desire to find a better life away from the terraces of the Valleys. They were also two young men, only a year apart in age, who enjoyed the company of women and wanted some adventure in their lives. Vernon, tall and dark, was probably the best looking of the two, but he acknowledges that Tom was better at talking to girls.
    Linda came to a gig only occasionally, when she could leave Mark with her mother for the night. Most evenings, the lads would try their luck with the few girls hanging around to meet the band, but Vernon admits that their success rate was pretty close to zero. One of the band might get lucky every six weeks or so, which was hardly something to brag about to The Rolling Stones.
    Vernon and Tom did manage to pick up a couple of air hostesses after a Saturday night gig in Ystrad Mynach, five miles from Pontypridd. They were so busy getting steamy with the girls in the car park that the others drove off, leaving them to make the long walk home. That would have been no problem if it hadn’t started to rain heavily. Fortunately, they found a shed to shelter under for the night. They managed to keep the girls warm until everyone fell asleep contentedly.
    In the morning, the sun was shining and it would have been a lovely day, except that they were all covered from head to toe in pigeon shit. They had spent the night underneath a dovecote, but hadn’t noticed in the throes of drunken passion. The boys found it much funnier than the girls, who kicked them both very firmly in the shins as a thank you. The walk of shame back home was not a happy one, especially as nobody stopped to give them a lift.
    Clearly, Tom wasn’t being faithful to Linda and, if the stories are to be believed, he has never been. She knew that. She heard the gossip. She felt uncomfortable seeing other women chatting up her husband and certainly didn’t want the knowledge of his philandering brought to her doorstep. Despite their success with the air hostesses, the Senators weren’t girl magnets, much as they would like to have been.
    If there weren’t enough fast women around in the Valleys, then perhaps Tom would have better luck with a fast car. Vernon was astonished when Tom, who hadn’t even passed his test, turned up outside the house in a sparkling new scarlet Ford Corsair. It wasn’t his. The car belonged to his brother-in-law, Tony Thorne, who was married to Linda’s younger sister Roslyn.
    He shouted, ‘Hop in, Vern. We’re off to Barry Island!’ They spent an hour or two sitting on the