"Trudy," a man remarked the first time I met the Sensational Mrs. Harvey. "I didn't recognise you without the satin dress and fishnet stockings."

"Oh, that's because Alex's is out of town." replied the freckle faced lady. "I can wear what I like then."

Trudy Harvey is a shrewd lady. Aware of her hubby's penchant for the glam, her casual nature at first scotched the idea. But, a daring a new experience, she gave the stockings a whirl and discovered something about herself: She liked the image.

Usually, though, she is a "house wife", keeping home for Alex and their 6 year old son Tyro, and Alex's 16 year old son when he visits.

Out shopping when I arrive. Mr. Harvey Sr. greets me instead by taking the opportunity to kiss the reporter soundly.

Father/son resemblance is astounding. It's obvious where Jr. got his sense of humour.

Trudy bursts in, offering apologies and loaded with the day's food. The auburn haired lady of the house does all the cooking, even though Alex did threaten for 7 years to make a curry. (Finally he did. It was rotten.)

She is wearing an Alex Harvey t-shirt and in reality, this casualness is basic to their family life. Mrs. Harvey admits to longing for a pool in the garden strictly for swimming in, not swanning on. As a matter of fact, she can't understand why I want to interview her.

"The only kind of woman it takes to be married to a rock star, is one who loves him." she insists. And although the 18 year old Foreign Office worker refused to marry the 29 year old Scotsman until their son was old enough to be at the wedding, chances are the Harvey's would have got it together no matter what.

Women's Lib made Trudy feel she had to prove herself first. So for three years she attended teacher training college, arriving home in time to pack her husband off to another gig.

The relationship suffered, the children suffered and, after a great deal of soul searching, Trudy decided she could learn just as much at home as at school.

It's a shrewd move----now she and her famous man are producing a book together. He is writing the words and she is doing the illustrations.

Humour in the marriage? She tells the story: "I remember a Valentine's Fancy Dress concert at the Lyceum. I went as a St. Trinian's schoolgirl in suspenders and pigtails.

"I was quite happy just jigging around backstage, but Alex's manager pushed me in front of the audience.

"Alex, who is great at handling any situation, got hold of a chair, sat me on his knee, pulled off my plimsolls and ripped off my stockings! I thought 'My God. what's he going to do next?' But then I held the mike and he sang into it. It was quite exciting.

"Another time, two of the other wives and myself dressed up in the striped shirts that have become Alex's trademark and we threw custard pies at the band." No-one knew about it except Alex. "I threw one at Hugh, the keyboard player, who got most upset. Most of it landed on his piano."

"All finished?" asks the stocking ripper himself, poking his head round the door. Alex had shuffled in several times during the course of the afternoon, only to beat an embarrassed retreat to his lead soldier collection in the kitchen. Trudy shoos him away with a merry "No, I'm enjoying this."

Mrs. Harvey's face in conversation is similar to a silent movie. She grimaces. Stretches. Emotions flicker across the creamy complexion.

"When he's away on tour, it's very easy to let your imagination run away with you. I could sit here in London and think about him with all those L.A. groupies" -- she pauses to light a cigarette, and I recall other wives specifically mentioning Californian ladies as the most insecurity inspiring --"but eventually you learn to control those thoughts.

"But if Alex ever came to me and said 'wow, what a great tour, I screwed 15 chicks', I'd grab the nearest weapon and kill him."

"Besides" she adds with characteristic aplomb, "I think I'm the best chick Alex could ever have. So, if he ever leaves me for a -- fan -- that's his loss. " With a sly grin she adds, "I mean, I could always find another pop star."

She is his anchor, his stability. Onstage Alex is king of a musical empire governing to a self chosen tempo.

It takes up to two hours after a show to return to reality: often he will talk to floorsweepers, doormen--- anyone who was part of that mythical world he helped create.

That's where Trudy comes in, never complaining even after a grueling day herself, exuding this live wire energy -- to remind him of everyday matters and Tyro, and of the lead soldiers marching through the milk bottles in the kitchen.

This article appeared originally in the December 4, 1975 issue of National Rock Star.
Article reproduced without permission of the author; transcribed by Brian Murray.
Photo of Trudy and Alex Harvey from the personal collection of Jack McDougall
Photo of Trudy Harvy in Nazi drag from New Music Express, courtesy Peter Ball.
Photo of Alex, Trudy & Leslie Harvey, Sr. courtesy Ulf Nawrot.

©1996-2002 dwm