It was the beginning a legendary collaboration, producing a string of hits that included
I Know a Place, Don't Sleep in the Subway, A Sign of the Times, My Love, I Couldn't Live Without Your Love, The Other's Man Grass, and
Color My World. For Clark, whose earlier English recordings had been musically thin, Hatch provided her with a rich, new sound.
"It had been what I had been wanting to do, and didn't know how to do it," she said. "It just kind of liberated me, which I suppose really was what the `60s were about."
Downtown introduced Clark in the United States, and it wasn't long before Hollywood came calling. Unfortunately, neither
Finian's Rainbow with Fred Astaire nor
Goodbye, Mr. Chips with Peter O'Toole was a box-office success, and there have been no movies since.
"I've been asked to do a movie," Clark said. "It's a fantastic role, but I'm not sure how good the movie is going to be. It depends on who the director is."
Her first Hollywood director was Francis Ford Coppola, who made his screen debut with
Finian's Rainbow. "I loved him from the first moment I met him," Clark said. "But it was not an easy movie to make. We were on the back lot at Warner Bros. in the steaming heat, and we were like a band of gypsies back then. And Jack Warner didn't want to know much about us. You know, a bunch of hippies smoking pot, and motorbikes and flower power and stuff like that." It may be hard to imagine Petula Clark in league with dope smoking hippies, so quickly and firmly was her image cast. There were the uptempo think-positive songs, her ladylike looks and demeanor, and of course, that whimsical name her father had made up.
"There are lots of cows and barges named Petula, and actually now there is a shoe called the Petula made by Mephisto" she said. "It's a very nice shoe, not tacky at all." But despite a career that has spanned six decades, an indelible musical legacy, and even a shoe named for her, Clark sometimes ponders what might have been.
"I've often thought how nice it would be to change my name and change my hair and try again to see if it worked," she said. "Just try singing something else, like with a really outrageous rock hand and see what that feels like."
And for some reason, with the interview winding down, I said to Petula Clark, "You go, girl." She did a double take, and then smiled. And then she left. With my duffel bag of albums, including a newly autographed copy of the original Downtown LP, I headed home. Smiling.