Before fame, before stages and lights — there was one man, one song, and one quiet night in Leicester.
Long before Engelbert Humperdinck became a household name, he was just Arnold Dorsey — a struggling young singer in Leicester, trying to survive another week of unpaid gigs. It was the winter of 1965, and the cold seemed to seep into everything — even the dreams of those who dared to chase them.
That night, he was scheduled to sing at a small pub called “The Crown & Anchor.” The snow fell heavily, and by 9 p.m., the place was nearly empty. Only one man, a middle-aged factory worker, sat at the bar with a pint in his hand. Engelbert looked at the owner, who shrugged as if to say, “Go ahead if you still want to sing.”
And he did.
For the next 45 minutes, Engelbert sang his heart out — to one listener. He sang as if the pub were the Royal Albert Hall, pouring emotion into every note. When the final song ended, the man at the bar stood up, applauded softly, and said, “Son, you’re going to be somebody someday.”
Weeks later, Engelbert received the call that changed his life — a slot on the TV show Sunday Night at the London Palladium that launched “Release Me” into history. Years later, when asked what kept him going, he smiled and said, “Maybe it was that one man in the pub. He believed in me when nobody else did.”