Posted on 09/09/2018 7:42:20 PM PDT by Twotone
Exactly three-quarters of a century ago this week the Number One hit in America was not a new record, but an old one. Which was an odd accomplishment, as the concept of "oldies" had yet to be invented. "All Or Nothing At All" had it all in September 1943, but it had had nothing at all for the previous four years. This is the story of how it, and its boy vocalist Frank Sinatra, came out on top...
It was June 1939 and the singer Louise Tobin was in her room in the Lincoln Hotel in Manhattan, packing for a gig in Boston with Bobby Hackett's band. Her hubby was napping on the bed. He was a trumpeter, name of Harry James, who'd just left Benny Goodman to put together his own orchestra. The radio was carrying a remote from some joint in New Jersey, and a male vocalist came on. Louise listened, and she thought this guy was "a fair singer". "I didn't think he was fantastic," she would explain years later, but he was "fair". And Harry had been having difficulty finding a vocalist, so she shook him awake. "Honey," she said, "there's a kid singing here you might want to listen to..."
The next day Harry James called WNEW and asked where the live broadcast had come from. Then he drove across the George Washington Bridge to the joint in question: the Rustic Cabin on Route 9W in Englewood Cliffs. He asked the manager where he could find the singer.
(Excerpt) Read more at steynonline.com ...
Fascinating and loved the detail in his descriptions of events, people and the subtle emotion needed to make some songs great.
Wouldn’t think of Mark when learning new things about music or entertainers.
Liked it.
Actually, Steyn is BIG on writing about music & culture. If you go to YouTube you’ll find his interviews with singers & musicians. They’re all pretty good!
Thanks!
Reminds me of a story my Dad told me. When he was Dating my Mother he took her to see Frank Sinatra in Concert.
At the end of the Concert, two big Guys grabbed Sinatra off the Stage and they exited the Theater right up the Middle Aisle past the Audience.
My Mother was on the end of the Row. She reached out and the back of her Hand brushed against Sinatra as the two big Guys “carried” him out. (My Father swore that Sinatra’s feet never touched the Floor)
Then my Father tells me, (in front of my Mother), that after they left the Concert my Mother didn’t wash the back of her Hand for three days. Needless to say, my Mother denied it in a very vocal fashion. My Dad and I just laughed.
I agree. Right around 2:35 is my favorite part.
2:35 is always thrilling to hear and never gets old.
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