FROM THE GAME I love, to the love of my life.
In November 1980 I received a telephone call that changed my life for ever. It came from the organizers of that year’s Miss World competition, to be staged at the Royal Albert Hall on Thursday, 13 November. Would I be interested in being a member of the judging panel? Would I?
The only problem was, this was a very busy time for me professionally. I was in the middle of recording a series for ITV and on 17 November was due to appear in the Royal Variety Performance.
‘Yes, I certainly am interested,’ I told them, ‘but it depends on how much of my time you require.’
They needed me for the semi-finals on Wednesday and the main pageant on Thursday.
‘What a shame, but it’s impossible,’ I reluctantly explained. ‘I could do the Thursday, but not Wednesday. Thanks for asking me. Maybe next time.’
I thought that would be it, but the following day they called back. ‘We would very much like you to be involved, Mr Forsyth. If it was just the Thursday, from two in the afternoon, would that work?’
‘That’s perfect. I’ll be there.’
MY JAW DROPPED, AND IT’S A BIG JAW TO DROP!
I arrived at the Albert Hall as arranged and met my fellow judges in one of the reception rooms, prior to conducting interviews with the contestants. Well, I met most of my fellow judges. One had still to appear. We were just preparing to head off when she arrived. I saw her out of the corner of my eye, walking through the door, but then lost sight of her as she crouched down to search for something in her bag. When she stood up, there she was, a stunning vision in a red dress. My jaw dropped, and it’s a big jaw to drop!
The interviews were being held in a large room under the stage. There were ten judges in all, lined up in seats to ask the girls questions and have a bit of a chat. The stunning lady in red was sitting maybe three or four places to my right. I still had no idea of her name.
After a few interviews Miss Turkey came on, and when it was my turn to ask a question I decided to have some fun. I looked her straight in the eye and said, ‘What do you eat for Christmas dinner?’
This got a big laugh from the judges and Miss Turkey. Most importantly, I looked along the line and caught her laughing. Oh, I thought, she’s got the same sense of humour as me. I knew I’d made a small impression on her there.
We then went up to the main stage for the show itself. The judges were sitting in a row, with the founder of Miss World, Eric Morley, sitting between me and whoever she was. I would have loved to be next to her, but at least I could make some eye contact, and whenever Eric left his seat to make sure everything was running smoothly I managed a little chat.
The show began and the first order of business was introducing the judges. When they came to me the announcer said, ‘Now we have the famous television star who needs little introduction, Mr Bruce Forsyth.’ I stood up and gave a short bow. Then came Eric Morley, and after him, the mystery woman.
Phew, I thought. Now at last I can find out her name.
‘And from Puerto Rico, we are so thrilled she’s here, former Miss World, Wilneliamerced.’
What? He spoke so quickly I was none the wiser.
I did, however, catch ‘former Miss World’. Of course! Now I recognized her. I had actually watched on television the closing stages of the competition the year she won. I remember her standing onstage with her crown and thinking she was particularly beautiful. And now here she was. But what was her name?
WHEN THE PAGEANT WAS over we all attended the Miss World Ball, held on the top floor of the Hilton Hotel. I was on my own and among the first to arrive. After a spot of investigation I discovered there were two tables of ten allocated for the judges and their guests.
I hovered close by as the tables began to fill. Where would Whatshername sit? I continued to hover, politely declining invitations to take a seat. Something inside was telling me this could be a big moment in my life. Still there was no sign of her. I went downstairs to check. Nothing. Back up to the ballroom. No lady in red. The tables were now almost full but I continued to hang back.
Eventually she appeared … with a date! A good-looking Asian man, and they were clearly very close. They laughed and smiled naturally, at ease together. Well, that’s that, I thought.
I sat across from her, in eye line. We had the meal, exchanged a few smiles, but not much else. Then the music started. I was signing a few autographs when I noticed her date had disappeared. She was sitting on her own. This is it, I thought. I walked around to her and said, ‘Would your boyfriend mind if I asked you for a dance?’
‘Oh, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s gone off to find Miss Hong Kong.’
‘Well, I hope he takes a slow boat to China!’
It was the best ad-lib I could think of. Thank goodness she found it funny.
WE DANCED AND IT WAS PERFECT.
We danced and it was perfect. We fitted together. When I held her in my arms I felt as though I was in a dream, floating across the dance-floor. We danced for two hours. Even when the music stopped we didn’t return to our table, choosing instead just to stand and talk. I discovered that not only was she totally gorgeous, she was very intelligent, well read, well travelled, and funny. We could have been twins! I’m just glad we weren’t identical.
I asked her name. ‘Please say it slowly,’ I added. She told me, Wilnelia Merced, and that she lived in New York where she worked as a fashion model for Dior and other top labels. ‘Everyone there calls me “Winnie”. Please do the same.’
It was a magical evening, but one that had to come to an end. Her escort, Jonathan, finally reappeared and I walked them both down to the hotel lobby, then helped Winnie into a cab. As I did so, I held her hand. ‘Thank you for one of the most wonderful, enjoyable evenings of my life.’ I kissed her hand, then put it back in the cab with the rest of her. I said goodnight to Jonathan and off they went.
While dancing, Wilnelia had told me she was staying at the Tower Hotel, and would be there for a few more days before returning to New York. She also gave me the telephone number of one of her dearest friends, Teresa. Wilnelia explained that Teresa had been her chaperone in London when she won Miss World in 1975. ‘We have been friends ever since. She is like a sister to me. If you want to speak to me, Teresa will know where I am.’
I did want to speak to her, and in between rehearsals for the Royal Variety I tried two or three times the following day, with no luck. She was a hard woman to get hold of … once she was off the dance-floor.
SHE WAS A HARD WOMAN TO GET HOLD OF
We eventually spoke on the Saturday and I invited her to dinner that evening. She had plans, of course she did. She was spending the weekend in London. Did I really think she would be free on Saturday night?
At around 9 p.m. I was lying on my bed at the Royal Garden Hotel, in my bathrobe watching The Big Match on television, when the phone rang. It was Winnie. ‘Hello, Bruce. I am here with Jonathan and Teresa and we would love to go to Stringfellows, but we’re not sure if we can get in. Do you think you could help?’
That was the big nightclub at the time, the place to go; you couldn’t just walk in unless you knew people. ‘Yes, absolutely. I can get you in. No problem.’
I jumped off the bed, pulled on some clothes in thirty seconds and off I went to pick them up. We had a great time at Stringfellows, talking, dancing, eating, sipping champagne, and at the end of the evening, when I dropped her back at the hotel, I again invited her to dinner. And again she was busy: she had plans to meet up with a group of Puerto Rican friends.
‘Why don’t you all come over to the Royal Garden?’ I suggested. ‘We can have drinks in the bar and a meal locally. There are some good restaurants in the neighbourhood.’
It was all arranged, but, over the course of Sunday, Winnie’s friends began to drop out for a variety of reasons. ‘Why don’t we make it just the two of us?’ I suggested hopefully. She agreed.
That evening over dinner we swapped life stories. Remember, she really had no idea who the devil I was. I told her about my career, and my marriages. As for her, I learned that she had been born and brought up in a city called Caguas, near the Puerto Rican capital, San Juan. Her parents were divorced and she had a brother called Kiko. Her mother, Delia, had encouraged Wilnelia to apply to modelling school, and from there she had found work in New York.
When she was chosen to represent her country in the 1975 Miss World, Winnie described it as a dream come true. Actually winning the competition was more than she ever imagined, but she had embraced the opportunities the title gave her with everything she had.
HAND IN HAND, WE WANDERED THE STREETS, LOST IN OUR OWN LITTLE WORLD.
At the end of the meal we decided to go for a walk. Hand in hand, we wandered the streets, lost in our own little world. Everything felt so incredibly right. I can’t explain it better than that.
At the door of her hotel, at around three in the morning, I kissed her on both cheeks. ‘On Tuesday morning, after the show tomorrow night,’ I explained, ‘I have to fly direct to Florida, for a job in Key Biscayne. I know you’ll be back in New York by then. Can I come and see you there? Just to have a meal and to talk. Nothing else. I would love to spend more time with you.’ She gave me the telephone number of her apartment and we said goodbye.
The following weekend I flew from Miami to New York. Everything blossomed from there.
The next two years were a mixture of telephone calls, letters and dozens of flights to meet up wherever and whenever our busy schedules allowed. It was exhausting, yes, the travel and different time zones, but much more than that it was exhilarating. I knew very early on that I must do everything possible not to let this amazing lady slip through my fingers. I am not exaggerating how I felt when I say that I knew my future happiness depended on her.
In time I visited Puerto Rico to meet her family – her mother, brother and her father Enrique, plus many, many cousins, aunts and uncles. Her escort on the day Wilnelia and I met, Jonathan Luk, was also over visiting and we stayed in the same apartment block, which gave me the opportunity to get to know him. Jonathan remains very much part of our lives and our family. We see a lot of him, as this recent photo shows. He is a delightful man and a great friend to both of us.
IN THE SUMMER OF 1982 Winnie and I were in Turnberry, where I was filming Pro-Celebrity Golf. One evening, on the balcony of our hotel room, with a beautiful moon lighting the scene, I dropped to one knee and asked her to marry me. ‘I know it’s a huge decision, the most important of your life, and I’m not expecting you to answer straight away. Just, please, give it some thought. I love you, I want to make you happy and I want to be your husband for the rest of my life.’
Winnie looked at me, and smiled. I stood and she put her arms around me. ‘I have thought about it, Bruce. I don’t need to think any longer. I know the answer. I have never been in love before, but I am now. With you. My answer is yes.’
On 15 January 1983, at the Helmsley Palace Hotel in a snow-covered Manhattan, Wilnelia Merced and I were married. I was the happiest man alive.
IN THE LEAD-UP TO that incredible day one big question had been worrying me. Where do you take a girl from the Caribbean on honeymoon?
Winnie and I discussed this at length. We both wanted somewhere neither of us had been before, and it had to be somewhere we’d be anonymous, just a happy couple starting their lives together. We settled on Hawaii. We couldn’t have made a better choice.
AFTER HAWAII, WE FLEW to New Zealand. I filmed a commercial there, but unfortunately the weather was so awful we saw very little of the country. From New Zealand the plan had been to travel to Australia where I was due to host a series of Play Your Cards Right, but at the last moment it was cancelled. Some crazy problem with obtaining my work permit was to blame.
With so much unexpected free time on our hands, we decided to take in Hong Kong, Italy and Spain before flying home. We ended up with an eight-week honeymoon. I wasn’t complaining.
NICE TO SEE HIM!
In November 1986 Winnie gave birth to our son. Yes, our son! As the father of five beautiful daughters I would have been delighted, overjoyed, had I been blessed with a sixth. Winnie, I now know, was secretly hoping for a boy, for me more than anything, but, honestly, I didn’t care which sex our child was going to be. I was just so thrilled that we were going to be parents. And then this wonderful little bundle of a boy arrived. I was thrilled and delighted.
We decided to call him Jonathan Joseph Enrique. All the firstborn males in my family have been either John or Jonathan, Joseph is my middle name and Enrique is after Winnie’s father. We were rather pleased with ourselves, thinking this was a strong but relatively unusual name. Then we took him to Puerto Rico.
Our son must have been about six weeks old when he first visited the island. As his numerous aunts and uncles were admiring him in his cot, one of the uncles asked what his full name was.
‘Jonathan Joseph.’
‘Ah! Juan José!’ Everyone started laughing and repeating his name. ‘Juan José! Juan José!’
At that moment I realized it was one of the commonest Spanish names there is! Ever since he has been known as ‘JJ’.
Who does he take after? I’ll let you decide.
DANCING IS ONE OF the things that brought Wilnelia and me together, in that ballroom at the Hilton. She is a natural, and I believe she could have been a professional. She has the talent, no question. Whether she could have coped with all the rehearsals, that’s a different matter.
During the nineties’ revival of The Generation Game, Winnie agreed to appear with Rosemarie Ford in a dance routine I had written, a merengue, that was to feature as one of the games.
AT THE REHEARSAL ON Monday all went well. Winnie was pleased with how she had done. Then Jeff Thacker, the choreographer, said, ‘And we rehearse again on Wednesday, here, and Thursday in the studio.’
‘Oh,’ replied Winnie. ‘I have to do it again? I thought that was it until the show.’
‘No, no,’ said Jeff. ‘I know you’ve picked up the routine very well but we still have to rehearse on Wednesday, then again two or three times on Thursday, before we record.’
Winnie couldn’t believe it. She felt confident she had the number down perfectly. I had to reassure her that this was absolutely normal.
‘It’s what I do all the time, darling.’
I don’t think she was entirely convinced, but she did agree to a number of additional appearances over the course of the next couple of series, so she must have enjoyed herself. Or perhaps the chance to work with me was an offer she couldn’t refuse!
PEOPLE OFTEN ASK ME about our age gap. I always give the same reply: ‘Oh, she keeps up with me very well.’
The truth, of course, is that it’s Winnie who keeps me feeling and acting young. She is so full of energy and life that it’s contagious. At this point I must confess that Winnie is not the sole reason I remain so active at my age. I have another secret. Wilnelia’s mother!
NOW, I KNOW THAT sounds a little odd, so let me explain.
Delia is a dream of a mother-in-law, so much so that I swear even Les Dawson couldn’t have found a joke to make about her. That’s saying something. Anyway, Delia has never once mentioned the age difference between her daughter and me. She has always been incredibly supportive of us as a couple and I’m very grateful to her for that. One day, however, back in the mid-nineties, she did give an indication that she was aware of my age.
She handed me a book by Peter Kelder entitled The Ancient Secret of the Fountain of Youth! ‘Be sure to read this, Bruce,’ she said. I’m so pleased I did as I was told. It was one of the best gifts I’ve ever received.
The book is based on secrets the author gleaned from Tibetan monks on how to remain young – both physically and mentally. I have followed the advice in that practical book since the day I read it.
I honestly believe the exercises it describes (plus a good diet, enough sleep and little alcohol) have helped me enormously. I don’t think I would still be performing, and enjoying performing, if I hadn’t made them part of my life.
I know, I know, that book has a lot to answer for!
IN 2007 WINNIE AND I visited Las Vegas, where I was making a programme for the BBC about the exceptional entertainers who have performed in that city. One of the segments involved a visit to an Elvis wedding chapel and my producer suggested that we find a couple who were actually getting married and ask if they would agree to be filmed.
I had a better idea. ‘What about Winnie and me renewing our vows? We’ve often spoken about it. And as we’re in Vegas, with a chapel, and an Elvis … But I do need to ask her first.’ I did so.
‘That would be lovely, darling, but I don’t have a dress!’
Panic!
To be fair, there were not a lot of options in Vegas, not in her style, but she really didn’t need to worry. She found a simple dress in a hotel boutique, and she looked incredible.
I KNOW IT MIGHT sound terribly corny, renewing your vows, but I would recommend it to anyone. Winnie and I were full of emotion; it brought back such happy memories. In some ways I would even suggest it was a more meaningful ceremony than the original! What I mean is that this time we were able to listen properly to the words we said to each other. They had even more resonance because we knew we had already faced up to some of the challenges life inevitably throws at you. In New York in 1983 we had promised each other we would be strong and tackle everything together, and here we were in Vegas twenty-four years later, still together, still strong. We had kept our promises and we were proud to be reaffirming them.
ALMOST THIRTY-FIVE YEARS AGO I stepped on a dance-floor and fell in love with a beautiful lady in a red dress.
Well, that lady in red is still dancing with me, only now she is even more beautiful and I am even more in love with her.