A reporter on meeting pop idol Tommy Page – and what he means to Singaporean women in their 30s

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In 1997, exactly 20 years ago, I interviewed Tommy Page. But the first time I ‘met’ him was actually in 1989.

He was my first pop idol crush. My friends and all wanted him to be our boyfriend. I was 12 years old and he was 19; I used to worry that he was too old for me. Of course, sadly, we were never meant to be.

I remember how excited I was when I read about his flight arrival details in The Straits Times. Yes, he was that big a star then that they actually published the info. Coincidentally, my family had to send a relative off to the airport that day. I was elated! Dressed in my best and clutching my autograph book full of his photos, I slipped off to the Arrivals Hall to meet him.

It was jam-packed with hundreds of prepubescent girls just like me. Lightbulbs flashing (those were pre-smartphone days), bouquets waving, girls were scream-crying ‘TOMMY PAAAAGE!!’ when he finally appeared. Gawky and skinny, he was enveloped by burly security guards who cleared a narrow path and swished him away. I only saw the back of his head and maybe a flip of his floppy fringe. Nobody got an autograph, I think; I certainly didn’t.

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That was my virgin encounter with pop stardom. I’m glad it was Tommy who took my cherry because he couldn’t be any nicer when I finally met-met him. In 1997, I was a poly student-cum-freelance writer for Teens magazine. By then, I had already interviewed my fair share of celebrities. I was way past the stage of being star-struck. Besides, I’d outgrown my crush on Tommy, who was 26 going on 27.

He had taken a two-year break to earn his International Business and Marketing degree at New York University and returned to Singapore with a new buff and brawny bod. He was also a pro at smizing even before Tyra Banks made it a thing. Those intense eyes under thick brows gave me long-forgotten tingles. I was immediately teleported back to my tween-age days, where I’d spent my allowance buying his cassette and wearing it out on my Walkman.

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Dressed in a blazing red shirt and jeans, he was warm and simply lovely. He self-deprecatingly said he wasn’t always this humble. “When I came to Singapore in ’89, the airport was packed full of screaming fans and I made the headlines in the papers the next day. I was like, ‘Yeah, I’m here and I want to sell more albums than Madonna!’”

I sheepishly admitted that I was one of those screaming fans. “I definitely didn’t think that so many years later, I’d get to meet you,” I told him.

“Really? That’s cool. Hey, you must have been real little at that time, but look at you now, a reporter!” He looked genuinely proud of me. I wouldn’t say Tommy Page inspired me to become a reporter, but that affirmation was a nice pat on the back.

And then, he gave me an actual pat, on my head. Perhaps it was his two-year sabbatical away from superstardom that had ‘humanised’ him. He was interested in regular people like me. He drank my Coke from my cup. The 12-year-old fangirl in me was hyperventilating. “TOMMY PAGE AND I SHARED SPIT!!!!”

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This is what I wrote in Teens magazine:

“Tommy Page was a totally unexpected surprise. He snitched some of my Coke, readily answered every query (though he did say that I asked him the weirdest, most original questions) and then turned the table on me by asking about my school and grades.

“He then proceeded to lecture me on the importance of studying hard and not getting D’s (which I have plenty of). Giving me a brotherly pat on my head, he advised me to study hard and to meet up with him when he came to Singapore again.

This former screeching fan can now scream that Tommy Page patted her head!”

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Like what Tommy once said in an interview, which I wrote about here in a tribute on Facebook, “whatever decade that you were 14 years old, that’s the decade that most people think had the best music”.

It’s true. I won’t consider him the best singer ever but he touched a generation of youths. ‘A Shoulder To Cry On’ was practically the anthem of my era.

Unlike many one-hit wonders, Tommy went on to have an illustrious career. He became an executive at Warner Bros. Records and helped to launch successful careers for the likes of Michael Bublé and Alanis Morissette; joined Billboard as publisher; and most recently, headed Pandora Internet Media’s Music Partnerships division.

He never stopped writing songs and released an 18-track album of his greatest ballads hits in 2016. When I interviewed him, he said he was dating a girl for two years, an American teacher he’d met before he went back to school. He told me that he gave her “a very beautiful white rock” that he’d found on a beach in Bali, which he proudly presented to her in a carved box. “I thought that was terribly romantic, because I had found something so beautiful halfway across the world to give to her. She wasn’t very impressed though.”

Re-reading that made me chuckle. I could almost see his goofy, indignant look when he told me this funny story, 20 years ago.

By all accounts, Tommy Page was a success story. Why did he kill himself? We’ll never know.

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Here’s the creepy part. A day before he died, I was rifling through old files and stumbled across the article I wrote. Haven’t read it since 1997. I sat there, smiling at the memories, and made a mental note to snap a pic for a #tbt (throwback Thursday) post.

And the next day, news of Tommy Page’s suicide flooded my newsfeed. I was shocked at how much it pained me. I hadn’t thought about him in years. I wasn’t even a big enough fan to buy tix to watch him when he was in Singapore for the Retrolicious 2015 concert. Frankly, I can’t even say I’m a fan anymore.

But it hurt. It really did. I wasn’t the only one similarly affected. Friends revealed on FaceBook that they still kept their autographed Tommy Page posters. Local actress Cynthia Koh posted a yellowed newspaper article where she, then a teenager with that familiar megawatt beam, had posed with fellow Tommy Page fan club members. They’d presented him with a $150, 3kg chocolate cake baked in his likeness.

His stunned colleagues shared about how kind and giving he was. One, after reading my tribute about how nice he was during my interview, wrote to me: “That was Tommy Page. He’d make you feel like you were the most important person in the room.”

I Youtubed ‘A Shoulder To Cry On’ and heard it through new ears. How come when I was 12, I never noticed how hauntingly sad the lyrics were?

“All of the times when everything is wrong

And you're feeling like

There's no use going on

You can't give it up

I hope you work it out and carry on”

Sadly, Tommy simply couldn’t carry on. Depression is a b****h and around the world, millions of fans are heartbroken that it’d won. Tommy, I hope you finally found your peace. Thank you for the music and for being a part of my life.