I will never forget the first time I saw Queen perform live as long as I live.
Following the concert, it’s said that Freddie Mercury burst into his dressing room, seized a clothes iron, and threw it at a full-length mirror, shattering it into pieces.
Clearly, he wasn’t superstitious! A malfunctioning microphone on stage had prompted this outburst. Though the audience remained oblivious to any issues, Freddie lost his temper.
To quote him, “Some people can take second best, but I can’t. If you’ve got the taste for being number one, then number two isn’t good enough.”
It’s hard to believe it has been 36 years since Freddie and Queen reached the pinnacle of the charts with their iconic song, Bohemian Rhapsody.
In celebration of the band’s 40th anniversary since their formation in 1971, a significant exhibition titled Stormtroopers In Stilettos: Queen, The Early Years, will open on February 25 in London’s East End. The exhibition chronicles the band’s first five albums and their ascent to global stardom.
Through images and films, it relives that legendary live performance before over 150,000 fans in Hyde Park in 1976, a milestone that solidified Queen’s success. Furthermore, filming is set to begin later this year on a movie about Queen, featuring Sacha Baron Cohen as Freddie.
While the exhibition is not to be missed, it cannot fully convey the essence of Freddie as an individual. The flamboyant icon passed away from AIDS on November 24, 1991, at the young age of 45.
For me, the real tragedy lies in the fact that Freddie’s death was entirely avoidable.
What resonated with me was his remarkable vocal strength. This extraordinary talent led to his collaboration with the world-renowned soprano Montserrat Caballe for their chart-topping hit Barcelona in 1987.
Though Freddie was celebrated for his commanding presence on stage, in private he was a completely different person. The showmanship faded away, replaced by an individual who was shy, guarded, and protective of his privacy to an obsessive degree.
There was even a time when he feared meeting new people out of concern that they might be let down by the contrast between his onstage persona and who he truly was. “I don’t want to shatter the illusion,” he shared. “I’m a sort of chameleon. I think it’s a combination of a lot of characters. And I’m a person of extremes.”
Before stepping on stage, Freddie would down a few shots of vodka and warm up his voice with a series of vocal exercises. His valet would have his performance attire prepared. Following a final puff on a cigarette, he would dart through the door to the stage amidst the cheers of Queen’s adoring fans, resembling a whirlwind.
“When I’m on stage, I become very different,” he remarked. “There are no half measures. You must be resilient to be a rock star; you can’t afford to falter even once.”
After acquiring a mansion in Kensington, Freddie found joy in surrounding himself with friends. He preferred hosting dinner gatherings rather than heading out to bars and clubs as he had during Queen’s earlier years.
These events consistently featured his former girlfriend, the slender and softly spoken Mary Austin, who had been his partner for six years before he acknowledged his homosexuality. Their bond was so strong that upon Freddie’s passing in 1991, he bequeathed Mary his home and a significant portion of his vast fortune.
Some of his family and friends were taken aback by this choice. While romantic partners came and went, Mary was the one unwavering presence in his life.
She would ultimately inherit his millions. “My life is extremely volatile,” he once said. “The only friend I’ve got is Mary. I don’t want to…”anyone else. Over the years, bitterness has crept in. The more disappointments you endure, the more pain you feel. I sense I’m navigating life with wounds everywhere.’
Mary was just 19 when she first encountered him. Employed as the public relations officer for the fashionable London boutique Biba, she crossed paths with Freddie and Queen’s drummer, Roger Taylor, who operated a stall nearby at Kensington Market, dealing in vintage clothing and Freddie’s artwork.
‘We grew up together. It took about three years for me to genuinely fall in love. I’ve never experienced anything like that before or since with anyone,’ Mary shared, as she moved into a flat with Freddie on Victoria Road in Kensington.
For six years, Freddie and Mary enjoyed a conventional physical relationship. One evening, he confided in her about his bisexuality, to which she countered, ‘No Freddie, you’re gay.’ They embraced. The moment arrived for them to pursue individual paths, though Freddie reassured her that he would always support her. He purchased a $1,200,000 flat close to his own, ensuring they could continue seeing each other post-separation.
Freddie remarked about Mary, ‘We still love each other. And if I go first, everything will go to her. No one else will receive a penny, except my cats.’
Ultimately, Freddie bequeathed gifts to his family, while his last partner, Jim Hutton, an Irish native to whom he had gifted a house in Ireland, received a significant sum. His valet was awarded approximately $1,000,000, and his chef was also included in his will. In his quest for love, he admitted, ‘I’ve explored relationships on both sides, male and female. Yet all have ended poorly. I doubt anyone can cope with me. I consume people and ruin them. I simply want everything to go my way, but doesn’t everyone? That doesn’t imply that I lack generosity. I may demand much, but I also provide a great deal in return.’ His concern for friends was evident.
‘I consider myself a true romantic,’ he expressed. ‘Yet simultaneously, I possess a tough exterior, making it challenging for people to reach me, and I tend to attract the wrong types. I’m terrified of solitude.’
He felt that his public persona hindered his ability to form relationships, ‘I created a monster. I’m at a disadvantage because people perceive me in that way. When I’m attempting to establish a relationship, I’m truly the kindest person one could meet, my dear. I’m a peach,’ he articulated.
‘The instant I sense betrayal, I withdraw. Once trust is broken, I become an ogre.
‘Because audiences adore me, it’s difficult for them to accept that someone like Freddie Mercury could experience loneliness,’ he said. ‘In reality, my type of loneliness is the most profound. You can be surrounded by people and still feel utterly isolated, as you lack a genuine belonging to anyone.’
Freddie lived with the knowledge of his HIV-positive status for seven years preceding his death. ‘I was incredibly promiscuous, but that phase is over now.’
Indeed, that is a direct quote. However, various accounts have surfaced regarding his promiscuous behavior, even after he became aware of his HIV status. Reports suggest that he continued to engage with men, sometimes up to three a day, until two years prior to his passing, when his health significantly declined.
‘It was all these facets of music that I was fully immersed in. There was excess in everything. Besides, turning 70 sounds boring. If I were to die tomorrow, I wouldn’t care. I’ve lived a life full of experiences. I cherish the fact that I bring happiness to people, even if it’s just for half an hour.’
That sums it up perfectly; he was unconcerned. Reflect on the other men he engaged with… all the while knowing he had, at that moment, an untreatable illness. I would be intrigued to trace follow-up stories of the men he slept with… did they succumb to AIDS?
The reality is, with the sheer number of partners he had, finding specific cases would be as tough as locating a needle in a haystack.
Freddie wasThe talented songwriter and ultimate performer was Freddie Mercury. The other members of Queen were also at the pinnacle of their musical talents. However, their success may not have been possible without Mercury. Although this might seem harsh, it remains a fact. Queen might have produced even better songs without Freddie, but without him to deliver those songs, no one would have been interested in hearing them.
Freddie received treatment for his illness in the comfort of his home. This was kept confidential, with medical supplies secretly delivered in record cover sleeves and boxes. As he grew weaker, he found himself unable to get out of bed, and eventually, his vision began to deteriorate. Nevertheless, he still summoned the strength to confront his destiny.
Towards the end of his life, it has been reported that Freddie expressed, “I’ve decided that I have to go.”
One day, he reached a point where he felt he could take no more and ceased all supplements that were sustaining him. He stared death in the face.
Mary was entrusted with handling his ashes.
In Freddie’s
bedroom at the time of his passing was Dave Clark, the leader of the Sixties band the Dave Clark Five. He recollected, “He just sat up, I held him and he smiled and he had gone. He had been so brave. Only a small number of individuals were aware of how ill Freddie had actually become. But that was precisely what Freddie wanted. He was inherently a private individual.
‘People should remember him for the joy his music brought into the world. Freddie had an immense love for life and embraced living it to the fullest.’
Tragically, Freddie could still be with us today. Members of the medical community suggest that if he had survived just one more year, advancements in AIDS treatment could have potentially saved his life.
However, Freddie Mercury was always a step ahead of his era.
by Wallace McTavish
