Looking back, it’s funny to think we might have picked berries from the same bush. Back in 1959, those blackberries proliferated to the rear of The Bend, the most unlovely corner of an unfashionable ground – Vicarage Road, home of the equally forgotten Watford FC.
Then, I was 18 and one of the ‘Boys on The Bend’, a disparate cluster of perhaps 20 fans who used the low bank as a vantage point to peer over the greyhound track and watch the newly-named Hornets. I was only aware of my own group, yet I might have noticed a podgy 13-year-old Pinner County Grammar School boy looking equally pleased.
Perhaps, had we talked, he might have volunteered that he’d inherited his love of Watford from his father, Stanley, and that his uncle, Roy Dwight, had scored and broken his leg in the FA Cup final that year. But the gulf between our teenage years was a chasm unlikely to be bridged at that stage.
The fifty quid a year Director
We’d have been shocked if someone had predicted that, as a result of my negotiations, our paths would next cross deep in the breeze-block heart of Watford’s unimpressive main stand. That young schoolboy, Reggie Dwight, would later burst on to the scene as Elton Hercules John, the iconic, flamboyant rock star. I would take a somewhat less exotic route to our eventual meeting, by joining the local newspaper.
In the early 1970s, after a series of phone calls to my home from Elton’s European manager Vic Lewis informing me that the star wanted to become a director, I persuaded him that I could sell the idea to Watford’s autocratic chairman Jim Bonser.
Beleaguered by fan criticism, the chairman treated the approaches of monied men as a threat to his regime. However, I convinced him the concept of Elton becoming one of the 20 or so vice-presidents – paying £50 per annum for a seat (plus access to a pay-bar and free sandwiches) – would be good PR.
So, one Friday morning in August 1973, the short, dapper, personable Lewis arrived at Vicarage Road, soon followed by Elton who, apart from platform shoes, was by his standards soberly dressed.
Bonser – expecting to meet an inarticulate, bizarrely dressed ‘nutter’ of whom he’d never heard – was pleasantly surprised. Elton impressed, being polite, well spoken, knowledgeable on the game and deferential to the chairman, to the extent of addressing him as ‘Sir’.
On cue, Bonser offered honorary vice-president’s facilities, which Elton declined, saying: “I’ll pay. I’m here to help not sponge”, and Lewis mentioned, casually: “Perhaps Elton might do a concert to raise funds.” It would become a well-worn Fleet Street cliche over the years, but Elton had set foot on the Yellow Brick Road, the third phase of a love-affair that started with schoolboy enthusiasm, developed into a teenage crush and became a full-blown adult affair lasting several decades.
There were break-ups and splits – he was twice appointed chairman, three times a director and twice life president – but no matter how many times he left, he kept coming back to Watford. It was an affair that would cost him in excess of £4m (largely spent on ground improvements), a gigantic hike in his personal phone bill and tears of frustration. But mainly, it brought the joy of seeing his dreams realised. Watford emerged from Division Four in 1978 and five years later finished runners-up to Liverpool in the top flight, reaching the FA Cup final in 1984.
Mozart and mustard
It was not all plain sailing. The early days were depressing. Soon after he’d held a 1974 concert at the ground, he was elected on to the board, only for the club to be relegated to Division Four that season. Elton did not take setbacks well. When Watford went through a slump, he was seldom contactable and if they were heading for defeat at Vicarage Road, the then chief executive Eddie Plumley recalled: “He would go down the stairs from the directors’ box, and turn and peep over, like a small child. I have known him turn to his mother and say ‘Come on, we’re going’, long before a match has ended.”
Not everyone welcomed him into the hallowed halls of League football. Elton was asked to leave one club’s boardroom because he was deemed ‘improperly dressed’.
A few years later, among those guilty of ‘funny looks’ were the patrons of a distinctly up-market hotel restaurant in Vienna, one of several unusual venues, including Paris and Milan, selected for board meetings. “Elton was in Austria on tour, and we flew out there and met at this crowded hotel restaurant,” remembered fellow director Muir Stratford. “Elton joined us at the table dressed as Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, complete with wig. You could have heard a pin drop when he came in.”
He was not asked to leave on that occasion, but initially Elton took the snubs, the looks and even relegation in his stride, pointing out: “This is not a momentary indulgence by a showbusiness personality who will tire of it and look for a new toy. I’m here for the long haul.”
His arrival pleased the players, bringing an element of celebrity to an unfashionable Fourth Division club, but there was some irritation over the media’s obsession with the Elton connection.
“I see Elton scored again,” moaned one player after a win was greeted by the all-too-familiar headline of ‘Rocket Men take off’. The star himself admitted: “Everyone at Watford is so normal and down to earth. It’s a stabilising influence on my life and keeps me sane, compared to the falseness of showbusiness. I get my leg pulled more at Watford than anywhere else.”
In turn he was appreciated, not least because he was natural. Luther Blissett, who rose with Watford from Division Four to Division One and was capped by England, said: “The thing with him, he just wanted to be one of the lads. He would come into the dressing room before games and the older players would even give him some stick over what he was wearing.”
After hiring a plane to fly to a Division Four fixture at Workington, he travelled back on the train with the Watford party. When it was discovered that the ordered meals were in the kitchen but there was no sign of British Rail staff to prepare and serve them, without hesitation the rock star mucked in with a fellow director and his wife, serving the players, taking it in good heart when they asked: “Any mustard, my good man?”
A call from Auckland
After two relegations in four seasons, Jim Bonser was under pressure, but he wasn’t ready to bow to the fans’ demands. “How can Elton John be chairman, when he’s out of the country most of the time?” he fumed. Throughout it all, Elton kept a low boardroom profile until the time was right, in May 1976, when he bought out Bonser and took over the club.
We scheduled a major interview for a Monday morning, only for the national press to come out on the previous Saturday with Elton’s revelation of bisexuality. That afternoon, there was an abnormal interest from the press in Watford’s game at Rochdale. Elton fended off most of them, before hearing Spotland’s faithful become the first to chant: “Elton John’s a homosexual.”
I despaired that it would end the likelihood of the interview, but he was true to his word, arriving on the Monday and answering every question. Checking over his quotes, one did worry him: “I’m not a raving homosexual.” The coming out was only partial, then.
Yet he was relaxed enough to remove his hat during the interview. A few wispy hairs were no big deal; his biggest concern was how the dressing room – “such a heterosexual environment” – would take his dressing-room revelations. On arriving at Rochdale, he’d been assured by manager Mike Keen: “We are behind you, your private life is your own affair.” Elton found that “uplifting” and was saddened by the “maturing experience” when he had to axe Keen a few months later.
“I’m not a quitter, I’m used to setbacks and jibes,” he said, but there were occasions when it got to him, not least when Watford were becalmed after appearing certainties for promotion to Division Two. Elton made for the boardroom toilet to contemplate and come to terms with the setback, having witnessed much of a 3-0 home defeat at the hands of Colchester on Good Friday.
Later, manager Graham Taylor noted the chairman was clearly angry. It transpired, while in the toilet, he heard a group from Colchester’s party come in to relieve themselves and joke how their team had “shoved it up Watford and that poofter”.
“I said he must be used to rising above it and suggested, as chairman, he should go over to the Colchester directors and express congratulations and wish them all the best for the rest of the season,” Taylor later revealed. “He did just that but when he came back, he looked at me, said ‘F**k you’ and went home.”
On occasions, visiting chairmen, immediately after a match, would be amazed to receive a call from the star congratulating them on their defensive work, discussing their missed chances and other results.
“If he’s so keen, why doesn’t he attend games?” was the observation of many after putting the phone down, only to be stunned to discover the Watford chairman was in Auckland or the like, on tour.
“Those phone calls were amazing. No matter where he was or what time zone it was, he would phone in before a match,” remembered Plumley. “He would get the team news, then hook into the local hospital commentary and listen to it for two hours. He would talk to me and the manager afterwards. It might be the middle of the night where he was, but he was always on, practically every home match.” For away games, he phoned his mother all afternoon for updates from teletext.
Graham Taylor, or Bobby Moore?
Elton was generous throughout. When I requested an interview to mark a decade of his chairmanship, he arranged for me to fly to Miami where he was touring and spend 48 hours in an opulent country club.
Every pre-season, he would throw open his Old Windsor home and garden to players, staff and their families for a party, complete with bouncy castle, and enter into the spirit of the day. “I remember Elton grabbed my baby son Elliott, and laughed when he was sick all over his shoulder,” recalled Blissett.
Under his chairmanship, Watford trailblazed the ‘family club’ image, and Elton was very much hands-on, giving out Easter eggs and Christmas presents to the Junior Hornets. Vicarage Road was even extolled in Parliament for being a hooligan-free family environment – a concept Elton had gained from his association with the US club LA Aztecs.
The chairman’s biggest disappointment was at Watford Council’s “lack of people with similar vision”, as he sought to build the first all-seater stadium in the country since the war. The council blocked every scheme, finally turning down plans to develop Vicarage Road and causing Watford to appeal to the minister for the environment. The club won with costs – Elton taking the field before a match and holding up a sign stating simply: ‘We’ve won’. So, when he and Taylor were accorded the freedom of the borough, Elton did not accept the accolade personally.
“Elton’s main contribution, apart from the money for the ground, was his enthusiasm, that was terrific,” recalled director Stratford. “But there were a couple of times when we took issue with him.”
The first was when Elton’s early Watford association saw him develop a friendship with England boss Don Revie and his squad. When looking for a manager to lift the Hornets from the depths, he first approached England skipper Bobby Moore, to the consternation of his fellow directors, who were keen on Lincoln’s Graham Taylor. Moore, as events were to prove, was not managerial material, but 10 years later, after Taylor had left Watford, Elton angered his fellow directors by lining up Dave Bassett as his replacement, without consulting the board. The result was strife and relegation.
Back in 1977, when Revie confirmed that Taylor was “the best young coach in the country”, Elton made an approach. After one false start – Taylor had no intention of hooking up with a rock star and his temporary whims – he attended an interview at Elton’s home and listened to him outline his dreams of taking Watford, not just to the Third Division, or even the Second. Taylor, who was interested in creating something unique rather than duplicating past successes, was hooked.
“He said he wanted to get Fourth Division Watford into Europe,” Taylor later explained. “I asked him how much he thought such a thing would cost, and he replied, ‘About a million’. I thought, ‘You will do for me pal’.
He said he wanted to get Fourth Division Watford into Europe. I asked him how much he thought such a thing would cost, and he replied, ‘About a million’. I thought, ‘You will do for me pal’.
Graham Taylor
They targeted achieving First Division status in 10 years, but made it in five – Taylor telling his chairman after the promotion-sealing victory: “Mission accomplished.” And it was pretty much on budget – the club’s accounts showed Watford owed Elton £1.2m.
The Hornets celebrated their debut in Europe, through the UEFA Cup with games in Kaiserslautern, Sofia and Prague, six years into Taylor’s management and appeared in the FA Cup final after seven, watched by a tearful Elton and his new wife Renata.
“You can’t equate the millions with the joy being involved with Watford has given me,” he said, after shelling out a further £2m towards building a new stand in 1986.
Yet within a year, hounded by The Sun and reports on his private life, which resulted in the issuing of 17 writs, Elton attempted to sell the club. Sensing the honeymoon was over, Taylor moved to Aston Villa, before Elton finally sold to developer Jack Petchey, accepting just £1 in settlement of his £4m loans.
Boardroom to board games
He was to return as a director a few years later, but resigned over the policies of his successor, only to reappear once again in 1997 as figurehead chairman with a consortium that re-appointed Taylor as manager.
Second time round, despite two successive promotions and a season in the Premier League, Elton attended only a few matches in four years because – in dressing-room vernacular “his missus doesn’t like football”.
After Taylor retired and Watford suffered financial meltdown under Gianluca Vialli’s management and the collapse of ITV Digital, Elton quit as chairman and director. He later kept in regular touch by phone with a succession of managers, financing a couple of purchases and their wages, also donating £750,000 proceeds from a concert held at Vicarage Road.
Throughout the years, his relationship with Taylor was pivotal. “He’s like a brother to me,” admitted Elton, who in the early days spent many evenings with the manager and his family, playing board games and chewing the cud. They were both bad losers, prone to tantrums, I was assured.
“Graham even tells me what he thinks about my records, clothes and concerts – he ‘s straight to the point, which I love,” said the star, who remembers being asked to pop in for coffee at the manager’s house one morning, and arrived fearing he was going to lose Taylor to a big club. “Rita served her husband a coffee,” Elton revealed. “Then Graham poured champagne and brandy into a pint pot and passed it to me, saying: ‘You can’t face the day without this’. That was an example of his being like a brother, giving me a wake-up call.”
Subsequent revelations have pinpointed those years as when Elton was struggling with drugs. “I was never aware of that – as he said, he did drink a bit,” admitted Taylor.
Stratford endorsed that point: “I wasn’t aware of drugs – he was volatile, up one minute, down the next, but great company. We got pissed a few times. Sometimes we’d stay and drink, and plan ahead in the boardroom after a match, late into the night, sending out for fish and chips.”
Drink also played a part when Watford residents were surprised to discover one night that the carol singers at their door were none other than the club’s chairman and his manager.
“We’d been to the Chinese Embassy, for instructions, before the club toured China the following summer,” Taylor explained. “We had so many of these really potent liqueurs. Elton came back to our house and we were dropped off somewhat the worse for wear. That’s my major claim to fame – I went carol-singing with Elton.” The session came to an end when they sung outside Taylor’s house by mistake and were dragged in by his wife.
For all those associated with Watford, Elton John’s involvement, along with Taylor, helped the club realise the ‘impossible dream’ – its treasured halcyon era.
One day Elton opened the station halt to the rear of the ground, enabling visiting fans to avoid the streets and emerge on the concreted away terrace. Years before, it had been The Bend, just clinker and railway sleepers. Walking back into the ground, I motioned to the back and he broke into a large smile when I reminded him: “The blackberry bushes were just there.”
This article originally appeared in the September 2009 edition of FourFourTwo