Yeah, I Got You Babe

I was sorry to read of the death of Sonny Bono, US congressman and former singing legend, in a skiing accident the other day. There are still a few of us, survivors from the old flower-power days, for whom Sonny and Cher will always be linked, and for whom the melody of I Got You Babe will never fade.

But as soon as the obituaries began to run, I knew it was only a matter of time before the old story of Sonny Bono's politicisation was re-hashed. In the mid-1980s Sonny ran into bureaucratic trouble when applying for planning permission to extend his house in Palm Springs, California. Frustrated, he made a big decision: "I'm going to run for mayor and fire you," he supposedly told the planning official, named Dave. And, of course, in time Sonny duly became mayor of Palm Springs. "Dave is my gardener now", the story ended.

Well, this is not entirely accurate. I ought to know: David is my middle name, and I was that official. This means I was that gardener, too.

I will never forget the day I sat at my desk in the Palm Springs Planning Office and opened the original house-extension application from Sonny Bono and his (fourth) wife, Mary. It was a total mess. There was no way I could read it, never mind process it. However, for some reason I felt sorry for the guy, and called him up.

Straight off, I told Sonny that his application was like something a child might produce. He took it well, considering, and his only response was "They say we're young and we don't know, we won't find out until we grow."

I thought this a bit rich coming from a man of 51, but let it pass. I could hear Sonny calling to his wife, and there seemed to be some kind of polite argument going on, with Mary telling Sonny not to lose sleep over it, "cause you got me, and baby I got you."

It was all a little embarrassing, as you can imagine.

Anyway, there was no way I could sort it all out over the phone, and the upshot was that Sonny came in to see me, bringing Mary with him. The three of us then began to re-do the planning application from scratch. On my advice Sonny toned down the solarium/jacuzzi option, which I told him was very Seventies, and replaced it with a proposal for an attractive backyard deck, linked through a small pool area to a secret garden with underground lighting.

At this stage Sonny began to express his worries to Mary about the cost of the project, and indeed his general living expenses: "They say our love won't pay the rent - before it's earned, our money's all been spent."

I tried to reassure him that this was a standard middle-class property-owner's dilemma but I was beginning to realise that the only one who could console him was Mary. "I guess that's so", she said evenly to her husband "we don't have a pot, but at least I'm sure of all the things we got."

So it went on, little by little, as I persuaded Sonny to drop this, add that and generally streamline the proposal in order to facilitate its progress through the bureaucratic maze with which I was so drearily familiar. Sonny's mood, sullen at first, gradually improved as Mary chivvied him along, and he was thrilled with my increasingly daring plans for his garden.

I realised his interest in the area when he shyly confided that "I got flowers in the Spring", and I pointed out that there was no reason he could not have flowers in the other three seasons, provided he took my advice and went to the right garden centres.

The day came when Sonny and Mary had to present their rescheduled application together, alone in front of the Palm Springs Central Planning Committee. They were nervous, of course. Sonny, rarely too concerned about his appearance, was all tidied up for the occasion: "Don't let them say your hair's too long", I heard Mary whisper to him, "Cause I don't care, with you I can't go wrong." Sonny was emotional too: "Then put your little hand in mine, there ain't no hill or mountain we can't climb."

They sailed through the two-hour session: not a comma was changed on their application, not a single detail disallowed. Three months later, the plans came to fruition, and who do you think was guest of honour at the official opening of the house extension? Yeah, me. And it was there I first met Mary's attractive cousin Una.

That wasn't the only payoff. No. I had been stuck in a three-year contract with the Planning Office, only halfway through with no hope of getting out, and it was Sonny who came up with the brilliant idea of making a formal complaint and getting me sacked.

It worked a treat. I got out with a good cash settlement, and the job as Sonny's gardener was waiting for me. So too was the darkly beautiful Una, and I still recall our long summer evenings by the pool, on the deck chairs under the Californian sun, and the scented bougainvillaea, when we would muse on our good fortune, and remind each other over and over - somewhat idiotically, but what the hell - that "I got you babe".