In 2021, Engelbert Humperdinck missed a late-night phone call. The caller was Joe Longthorne, a legendary singer, his trusted stage partner for over 40 years—and one of the few friends Engelbert truly considered family in show business.
Engelbert had just finished a livestream concert during the height of the pandemic. He saw the missed call the next morning and thought, “I’ll call him back after breakfast.” But that call would never happen. That same morning, he received the news: Joe had passed away suddenly from a heart attack.
The weight of it grew heavier when Engelbert recalled a message Joe had sent days earlier:
“If something ever happens, just know—you’re the only one I’ve ever trusted enough to tell everything.”
Engelbert never found out what Joe wanted to say. For a full year, he refused to speak publicly about the loss. Only in late 2022 did he quietly admit:
“I’ve sung in front of millions… but I couldn’t face the sound of one call I never answered.”
Since that day, Engelbert has often ended his concerts with a line: “Never wait until morning to say what matters most.”
Engelbert Humperdinck and Joe Longthorne weren’t your typical celebrity best friends. One was a polished crooner from the golden era of romantic pop; the other, a gritty performer with a troubled past and raw vocal talent. But they shared something deeper: vulnerability.
In 1998, during a joint tour, Engelbert walked backstage and found Joe quietly injecting himself with medication to treat leukemia. He said nothing—just placed a hand on Joe’s shoulder and whispered, “You’re not doing this alone.”
From that moment, their bond grew. No publicity. No interviews. Just two men confiding over late-night tea, lost songs, and pain behind the curtain.
Engelbert once told his wife:
“They call me the romantic voice—but Joe, he had the bravest soul I ever knew.”
When Joe died, Engelbert didn’t attend the public funeral. Instead, he visited his friend’s home at midnight, leaving a single white rose and a handwritten copy of “Too Beautiful To Last”—Joe’s favorite Engelbert ballad.
In the years since, Engelbert’s regret over the missed call became a quiet homage. He never used Joe’s name on stage, but those who knew him say—every time he sings a certain line with a catch in his throat, he’s talking to Joe.