The Most Important Day in the Life of Bobby Rydell is Named Frank. He's the man who recognized in Boby the potential of a big star; the man who gave up his own career as part of an isntrumental trio to groom Bobby for the top spot his talent deserved. "The boy is going to be a big factor in the business," Frank wrote me in the early days, when you could count Bobby's fans on your two hands. And he never lost faith.
But though Frank's a most important "day" in Bobby's young life, there've been other days that the 20-year-old singer isn't likely to treat lightly when he looks back. "I guess the day I was born would be kind of important," Bobby grinned, "because, well, if that hadn't happened, then neither would the rest of it, now would it?"
Being born was only part of the story. Bobby was lucky enough to be born to a father who had a love for music and a dream that his son would also, and a mother who was all understanding concerning her husband's and son's ambitions. "On Saturdays Dad would take me to the Earle Theater in Philadelphia where I'd thrill to the music of such greats as Dorsey and Goodman and Ellington. My love for music was the biggest thing in my life as far back as I could remember. Mom says I hummed tunes before I could talk. From the time I was three I mimicked everything on TV. My father thought I had talent," Bobby added with a modest shrug, "so he took me around Philadelphia to clubs here I did guest shots. That started when I was about seven. From that first day when I stood up in front of the people at the CR Club, entertaining was my love! I felt at home. I knew this was it!"
There was a day when Bobby was nine that he's not likely to forget, either. It was the day he auditioned for Paul Whiteman and his TV Teen Club. Paul liked him, and three weeks later Bobby was on the show -- and won, his prizes including a TV set and a supply of Tootsie Rolls. This led to a regular berth on the show. "At first I just did commercal things. You know, I was the Spirit of '76 with the drum and the bandage. Th ings like that. Then, about five weeks later, I was a real regular performer. It was 'Pops' Whiteman who suggested that my real name, Ridarelli, be shortened to Rydell."
Speaking of that commercial with the drum reminded Bobby of another big day in his life -- the day he got his first brand-new set of drums, in 1957, when he was 15. "I was mad for drums for as long as I can remmber," Bobby recalled. "I drove my mother about crazy. I used pots, you know. Then they'd boy me those toy cardboard drums at Christmastime. I finally got a patched up set of real drums and strted studying seriously when I was about 12. But it wasn't until that Christmas after I was 15 that I got my first good set of drums. New ones! Oh, they were very special. I knew about a week in advance I was getting them. They were being shipped from Chicago, and I could hardly wait till that day! I tore the boxes open right there in the music store. Oh, they were great; oyster pearl, which is sort of off white with flecks of black and silver all through."
Bobby was already working with instrumental groups around his native Philadelphia at 15, and at 16 he was drummer with Rocco and the Saints, a popular teen dance band, at Somers Pt., N.J. This brought a most important day in his life, for Frank Day was playing bass with the Applejacks, appearing at the same spot. Frank heard Bobby sing, then approached him and his parents about managing him. "So many people had said, 'Why don't you do something with Bobby? Take him to Hollywood or seomthing?' But no one offered anything concrete," Bobby recalled. "Then Frank offered something, so my parents figured they'd try one more time." With Frank he studied singing, dancing, drums and stage presentation. Then they toured the big-name record compnies -- and were turned down. To wax Bobby's first record, Dream Age, they formed their own company, Veko, but the man with the company funds skipped town. And Frank, who'd sunk everything he had into the venture, was in real financial trouble. Broke, but with his faith in Bobby still bright, Frank finally convinced Camero, a Philadelphia firm, to become Bobby's first -- and only -- recording company. His first disk was Please, Don't Be Mad ("A bomb," said Bobby), followed by For You, For You ("Another bomb!"). Then came All I want Is You ("A bomb -- even with 30 violins!"). Frank took a job with Cameo so he could stick with it -- and his faith and persistence paid off for both of them. For Bobby's next record, Kissin' Time, took off like a rocket -- and Bobby's hardly had time to catch his breath since, with special days turning up one after another.
There was the first day he was mobbed by a screaming crowd of fans at a record hop; and the first day he saw one of his fans moved to tears.
"While I was singing she kept looking at me and I could tell she was crying," he remembered. "I didn't know what to do or how to feel. When the number was finished the kids came crowding up for autographs. She ran up to me and threw her arms around my neck and kissed me. She said, 'I love you' -- then she must have felt embarrassed for she ran away."
There was the first day he opened at the Brooklyn Paramount; the day he appeared on TV with old friend Dick Clark, whom he'd known from the Paul Whiteman show; the day his advisors decided he should record Volare, in spite of the fact that no one had ever before recorded so recent a hit -- and made it another hit!
Then there was the first day he ever worked with Red Skelton ("the warmest human being I've ever met"); the first time he appeared with Perry Como ("the way he comes off on TV, that's how he really is"); his smash, record-breaking opening at New York's Copa and the night he opened with George Burns in Las Vegas.
There was the day he arrived in Hollywood; various days made important when he met young movie personalities; the day he cut his first album and the day he teamed up with Chubby Checker for their fun album; the day he took off on tour for his first trip to Europe; the day he signed a film contract with Columbia Pictures; the day he received a personally autographed photo from President Kennedy, wishing him success; the day Boys Town of Italy made him the third recipient of its Humanitarian Award; the day he cut his latest record album, All the Hits, the day he reported for work in Bye, Bye Birdie.
So many big days for a boy not yet old enough to vote. That big day, his twenty-first birthday, will be coming up next April. But it'll be only one of many important days still to come for the boy with talent, the father with a dream, and the manager with unshaking faith.
