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The tragic story of Mr. Heart-Throb Here, his sister, Mary Wothers, tells the remarkable and moving story of his career In the 1950s, David Hughes was a household name. He was a handsome, popular singer and he was filling theatres up and down the country- topping the bill and topping the charts! David had regularly appeared on TV’s Make Mine Music, and Friday Night Is Music Night on the radio. But a career in more serious music was just round the corner... David was born Geoffrey Paddison on October 11, 1925. Our father was a tram driver who was born in Swansea but came to Birmingham at the age of five. (You can see an Adobe PDF version of David’s family tree here: and Descendants of his GtGtGndparents ) Dad was a true Welshman with a wonderful voice and our home was always full of music. We had all of Caruso’s records, and on Sunday evenings after church we all used to sit round the pianola. My sister Glenell, David and myself would join in the singing (Dad always making sure that David sang properly). On leaving school, David joined the railway as a goods clerk. One day he came home and said: “Old Dick Poole is always telling me to shut up when I’m singing round the office, but today he asked me if I would sing at a Home Guard concert”. He sang On The Road To Mandalay in a competition at the concert, and although he didn’t win he was approached by two people who encouraged him to have his voice trained as he had great potential. The singing lessons cost l0 shillings per week - Mum paid one week, Dad the next and then David paid the third week. In 1945 David was called up and began the training to became a pilot. His squadron formed a choir at St. Andrew’s Church, Kowloon, Hong Kong and David took part in his first broadcast on the ZBW radio station at Christmas 1945. He also made a recording of Silent Worship, which he sent home with a message for my father, who was 53 and suffering the effects of a recent heart attack. In July 1946, my father died without knowing that his son was to be a star. David was demobbed in 1947 and obtained a grant to study singing at Wigmore Hall. He also trained at the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Art. In 1949, he got a part in a musical called Belinda Fair at the Saville Theatre, and he made a demonstration disc. The response was quick and positive. He was booked to take part in the radio programme Welsh Rarebit, and following that 14 appearances on Henry Hall’s Guest Night. Having been introduced by Henry as the young Welsh tenor, it was suggested that he choose a Welsh professional name. The obvious choice was our fathers first two names, and proudly Geoffrey Paddison became David Hughes. The Welsh influence remained strong in David’s life, and he appeared twice a year in concerts at Llandudno for 24 years until his death. Record contracts followed Guest Night and he soon became an established pop star, the idol of thousands of teenagers with an enormous fan club who nicknamed him Mr Heart Throb. We, his family, followed him when he appeared in major theatres all over the country. David’s name was becoming established in the entertainment profession and it was at this time that he met a dancer while he was performing in a revue at the well-known Pigalle night-club in London. Her name was Ann Sullivan. Their relationship quickly deepened and it became more than mutual admiration. David’s career took him away from Ann and the UK when he performed on a six-month singing tour of Australia in 1954. However, whilst out there David’s feelings for Ann took up his free time. In a newspaper interview later David said, “For the first time since I went on the stage in 1949 I had time on my hands. I began to think about what I wanted out of life. I made my decision on New Years Eve 1954, and I picked up the phone to make a call to Ann in London.” It was a.m. in London. David remembers, “There was sleep in her voice when she at last spoke to me, while I was wide awake and full of eagerness. Will you marry me? were my first words”. Ann needed no time to think what to reply. In an interview for the Evening Despatch in 1957 she recalls how she felt, “Then came that wonderful telephone call all the way from Melbourne. It changed my life. My family scurried around and Back in England, David’s success escalated. He played the lead opposite Sally Ann Howes in Summer Song at the Princes Theatre, Shaftsbury Avenue, and the Daily Herald said: “David Hughes is the kind of leading man which British musicals have long been lacking”. In 1959, David got his own TV series, Make Mine Music, and an appearance opposite Ginger Rogers. He also met the Queen at the Scottish Command Performance. The summer of 1961 promised to be busy and exciting. By now the family had grown to include Shaun, aged five, Katie, aged three - and Ann was due to have baby number three, Maria, in September. The family rented a family house to be near David while he worked for the summer season in Paignton. During rehearsals, David had to lift one of the comedians. After one such lift, he felt ill and during the night he suffered a slight heart attack. Months of recuperation followed. It was a time for reflection, and as he rested, listening to the old opera records he loved, he came to a decision: “If I’ve only a short time to go I will spend it singing the kind of music I always set out to”. He decided to return to singing lessons and prepare for a career in opera. It was a brave but punishing decision. During this transitional period Hugh Hastings offered David a leading part in a new musical, Scapa. Pete Murray was co-starring in the musical and Edward Woodward also had a small part in it. Despite this talent, the show folded after a few weeks. Then Isabella Wallich, head of Delyse Records, suggested that he make a record of 16th and l8th century love songs. Isabella’s confidence in David as a singer of more serious music, helped him to achieve his life’s ambition. In July 1964, he was given the role of High Priest in Mozart’s Idomeneo with the Glyndebourne Opera Company (interestingly, another newcomer, Luciano Pavarotti, had a part in this production). Work with Welsh and English national opera companies followed. His major achievement was Don Jose in Carmen for which he received a plaque to commemorate 100 performances. By the end of the 1960s, David was established in the opera world. Sir John Barbirolli employed him regularly and engaged him to sing the Verdi Requiem at Geneva, which David felt honoured to perform. On October 18th, 1972, David was singing the role of Pinkerton in Madame Butterfly at the London Coliseum. He had been asked to take over while the lead tenor was indisposed. Although David was busy rehearsing Pagliacci, he agreed to appear. Most of David’s friends and colleagues were unaware of his health problems, even though he had in fact suffered 11 heart attacks since that day in Paignton. On this night, Ann was in the audience and David complained to her that he was feeling unwell. He went ahead with the performance and completed the first act. Pinkerton doesn’t appear in the second act, so David came off stage and Ann joined him. He was helped to a chair, and as he lay slumped across it, realised that he was unable to move. A doctor was sent for and when he arrived David asked, “Is this the big one?” The doctor confirmed his fears. Then David asked again, “Will it make much difference if I go on?” The doctor replied, “It’s up to you”. As the third act began David summoned the strength to go back on stage. Amazingly, he sang so well the audience were unaware of the tragedy they were witnessing. In the final moments of his role, when he has to fall across Butterfly’s lifeless body, tears were streaming down his face. David always became emotionally involved with his role and the music so it was a few moments before Butterfly said: “What’s the matter David? Get up”. She realised then that he couldn’t. As the curtains closed at the Coliseum, an ambulance was waiting to take David to hospital. He looked into Ann’s eyes and said: “I didn’t let them down did I?” David died on October 19, 1972. A memorial service was held at St Paul’s, Covent Garden. Associates sang music from his operas, and Pete Murray read the eulogy. John Delaney stood with David in the wings of the Coliseum on the night of his collapse. As they waited together for the opening music, David philosophised. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could just walk across the fields to the theatre, do the show and then stroll home by moonlight...” That is how I like to think of David, strolling across the fields by moonlight, singing as he moves towards the arms of our dear departed loved ones.
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my sisters helped me pack. I quickly designed a wedding gown and had it made just in time to catch the plane to Melbourne. I left London Airport on Monday, arrived in Australia on the Friday and was married at St. Paul’s Cathedral, Melbourne the following Monday (St. Valentine’s Day). I think (St. Valentine’s Day) is a lovely day on which two people in love should be wed.”