The following is from the Doris Stokes Book "Innocent Voices In My Ear" and was published in 1983.It tells of when Marc's Mum visited the world famous medium Doris Stokes in 1980 and is a fascinating read....
It is very strange the way so many pop muslcians go over young. I know there is a lot of drinking and druging in that profession
which would account for some the deaths, but a surprising number of these young people go over through no fault of their own. John
Lennon was murdered, other singers have been killed in plane crashes, electrocuted by their guitars, or like Marc Bolan, been
involved in fatal car accidents.
l have done quite a few sittings for the grieving wives, girlriends and mothers who are left behind in these tragic
cases and, from talking to the mothers, I realize that no matter what sort of wild image the young man may have presented to the rest
of the world, no matter what sort of bad habits he may have been led into, to his mother he is still her innocent child. Beneath the
permissive exterior Iies the little boy she always knew.
I realized this when Marc Bolan's mother, Mrs Phyllis Feld, came for a sitting. It was several years since Marc had been killed but I still
had a vague recollection of hirn. Wasn't he the boy with all those long curls down his back and the eye make-up? Being a Jim Reeves
fan myself, Marc Bolan wasn't really my cup of tea so I'd never followed his career, but if you'd asked me what he was like I would
probably have said that by the look of him he was one of those couldn't-care-less, rebellious types. Which just shows how wrong
you can be. When he came back to talk to his rnother, I discovered he was a gentle, kind-hearted young man. He had made mistakes,
he knew it and he was ready to admit it.
Mrs Feld had written to me asking for a sitting and I booked her for the only day I happened to have free, but it turned out to be a lucky choice.
As soon as I started working Marc came through singing Happy Birthday.
'Why is he singing that?' I asked his mother.
'It's his birthday today,' she explained.
'Twenty-nine,' said Marc.
'Is he twenty-nine today?' I asked.
'No,' said Phyllis,'but he was twenty-nine when he was killed.'
He then went on to mention his little boy, Rolan and gave his age (5), and then he talked of Gloria.
'That's Rolan's mother,' said Phyllis.
'My mum's lovely,' Marc went on. 'She has never blamed Gloria for what happened.'
Apparently Gloria was driving the car the night the accident happened. The Mini went out of control, hit a tree and Marc was killed.
'Gloria was all right,' Marc explained. 'She wasn't unconscious or anything. She kept saying, "Wake up! Wake up, Marc!" But I'd
already gone. I think a tyre burst.'
Then, for some reason, he started singing again. This time it was a jolly song called Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round The Old Oak Tree,
which I found an odd choice. I mean, I am fond of the song but from the little I knew of Marc's work I didn't think this was his sort of
music at all. When he finished the chorus, he muttered something about a girl coming from America on his birthday and tying a ribbon
round a tree.
It was double Dutch to Phyllis and me. We couldn't make head nor tail of it.
'We don't know what you mean, love.'
He repeated the rnessage several times but it was no use.
'Let's come back to it later,' I suggested. 'We're not getting anywhere at the moment.'
But a few days later the meaning became clearer. There as a story in the paper about Marc Bolan and it mentioned that his fans still
make a pilgrimage every year to the tree where he died. It didn't specifically mention the American girl but since he had a lot of
American fans thee chances are that an American girl was amongst them.
Marc went on to talk about another Mark. 'But it's his real name,, he said, 'spelt M-A-R-K.' It was only then that I realized Marc didn't
spell his own name the same way.
'He has a cousin called Mark,' said Phyllis. He mentioned other family names and hirthdays. Then gave the name Grace.
Phyllis shook her head. 'I don't know anyone called Grace.'
'No, Murn doesn't know her,' said Marc, 'but tell her I've met Elvis Presley and his mother Grace over here.'
Phyllis didn't think this was unlikely. 'Oh yes, he adored Elvis Presley,' she said. "he would have wanted to meet him.'
Marc added that his mother was soon going to Los Angeles (which was correct) and Elvis wanted her to phone someone called
Prissy and give his love to Lisa.
'Elvis' wife was called Priscilla,' said Phyllis, 'and his daughter is Lisa.'
Then Marc talked about his career. He mentioned several personal financial details which his mother confirmed and he said he was
worried about her.
'My mum shouldn't be working,' he said. 'I worked hard and made a lot of money, but I was ripped off. I thought a lot about my music
but I was no good as a busiessman.
'Fame and money came too quickly. I couldn't handle it. I wouldn't listen to my dad. I thought I was a big star but Dad always said "be
careful".'
Phyllis nodded sadly. 'Yes, that's quite true. His dad did worry about him.'
And finally, like John Lennon, Marc's thoughts went back to his son. He was very proud of little Rolan.
'I was writing a song for Rolan just before it happened, you know,' he told me.'A new song.'
Perhaps one day Rolan will write a song for his dad. Marc would like that.
** (Editors note) .. Regardless what you feeling are on this subject, I thought it was intersting to find out that
Marc's Mum sort out a medium after Marc's death.
Copyright © 2006 The Till Dawn Organization/Doris Stokes. All Rights Reserved.
