Tipped off by the IPCS newsletter (International Petula Clark Society), of which I am a member, I was able to buy one ticket to see Petula Clark at the Las Vegas Hilton in early May.
I promptly informed Sweetie that I would accompany her that weekend to her gig in Henderson, Nevada.
I used the GPS to get from a picnic in Henderson to the mighty Hilton, going over no less than 4 freeways and a lot of commute traffic. But I found myself there, hunting for a parking space for the rental car in what seemed a very busy parking garage on Paradise Road, next to the Hilton. Granted it was Saturday night, but it was early Saturday night, and, besides, wasn't this a recession?
I was to find out very soon that (1) there was an international boxing match going on in town, and people would watch from each of the hotels, as well as gamble on its outcome at the sports book, and (2) there was a wedding going on at precisely the moment I parked.
But all of those are good reasons to go early, which I did. I picked up my Will Call ticket, used the match ticket attached to it to play a little blackjack, and finally went to the auditorium.
The Hilton auditorium brought back a lot of memories. My brother and I saw Elvis there. It's funny, I can't remember the year. Maybe mid-'70's? It was certainly before they remodeled the place. When we went that first time, all of those luxurious booths were in place, and all the celebrities were in them. We, of course, were wayyyy in the balcony, at a little table high above the stage, and I was trying to maneuver through my drinks they demanded I buy.
This night, however, I was third row center, a marvelous seat. And you can bet everybody there in those seats down front was a real fan. Well, except for the 4 people behind me; they certainly knew Petula, could name a song or two, but they didn't fall into the rabid category. Everybody else around me, however, were shaking hands, re-introducing themselves to each other. Most were from the IPCS, and had met each other at other events. Two couples had flown in from England to see her.
Her set was marvelous. Half the songs I had never heard her sing live. Oh, yes, I recognized all but one, but only from CDs. And she managed to squeeze in many of her hits, most in truncated form. And she told some marvelous stories: one about filming with Fred Astaire, and the other about playing the piano for Charlie Chaplin in Switzerland after she had recorded his song ("This Is My Song") and it had become a hit.
At one point a fellow down front yelled, "Downtown!" Petula glared at him, and mentioned something about, well, if I did that, we could all just pick up and go home, couldn't we? I thought that was very funny. Of course, she got to Downtown at the end, and entreated us all to sing that magic word of the refrain.
Come to think of it, she also asked for our help with a few other songs as well. And since we all knew the words, that was a lot of fun.
Each time I see her I wonder if there will ever be another time. This time seemed special because it was layered on other memories. And because, indeed, at her age, I wonder if we'll ever see her live again.
