The Night Bobby Rydell Met Frank Sinatra!

It looked for a long time as if Bobby would never meet the idol of his life --

but finally the big day came -- and here's proof!

by Paul Denis

The phone rang in the dark bedroom of a red brick house in South Philadelphia.

Mrs. Jennie Ridarelli shook the sleep out of her head, and edged out of bed slowly. She glanced at the clock. It was 4 A.M.!

Who could be calling at such an hour? She knew that Bobby and his dad and his manager, Frankie Day, were in New York; and they were probably on their way home now.

A sudden panic seized her. An accident!...No...No! She knew she must not think that way.

She reached or the phone, and picked up the receiver. "Hello."

"Mom? This is Bobby. Guess what?"

She held back ear anxiety. "Something good, I hope," she said.

"Something good? It's some thing great! Tonight I met God!"

"God?" she repeated, bewildered. "God?"

"Yes, God! My idol! Sinatra! Tonight I finally met him!"

"Bobby, you shouldn't use that word like that," his mother warned.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I was excited, I guess," Bobby apologized.

Bobby Rydell's grandmother came slowly out of her bedroom. The phone had wakened her, too, and she had listened apprehensively to her daughter's phone conversation. When she head the word "God" she knew, and she smiled, and she said, softly, "God at 4 A.M. It can mean only one thing...Bobby met Sinatra!"

Bobby was still on the phone, and his excited voice said, "Mom, Sinatra talked to me, and he invited me to sit at his table, and all the time he talked to me, his blue eyes never left my face!"

"I'm glad you met him, Bobby. I know how thrilled you must be. But it's late, and you ought to come home and get some sleep."

Bobby continued, "He invited us to have a drink, and all of us ordered Cokes..."

It seemed as if all his life Bobby Rydell had wanted to meet Sinatra. When he was as spindly and as big as a grasshopper, he used to listen to the great Frank Sinatra on the radio, and he would ask his dad, "When are you going to take me to see Sinatra?

But his dad would sigh, "They've got Frank Fontaine at the Earle Theater Saturday, and I think Gene Krupa's Band next week...I don't know if they've booked Sinatra...But we'll keep going to the Earle every week, and if they ever bring Sinatra, you'll see him, I promise you."

But little Bobby Ridarelli never did see Sinatra at the Earle and he had to be satisfied with listening to Sinatra on the radio and on records, and sometimes on TV.

When Bobby Ridarelli became Bobby Rydell, the singer-entertainer, he kept dreaming of meeting Frank Sinatra.

"Do you think we'll ever meet him?" Bobby would ask his manager, Frankie Day.

"Sure," Day would say. "Some day we'll be in the same town he is, and somehow we'll meet him."

"Well," Bobby said, trying to soothe himself, "I got a new photo of Sinatra, and I'm adding it to my collection. He's the greatest!"

Atlantic City

Bobby Rydell had finished a sizzling week at the Steel Pier Theater, and before heading back home to Philadelphia, Frankie Day said, "Bobby. I got a surprise for you. Tonight we're going over to the 500 Club for the midnight show.. A bunch of us. Mom and Dad. Fellows from Cameo and Parkway Records, and Dick Clark....We'll see Sinatra. It wasn't easy to get reservations, but we manage.

"Great!" Bobby exclaimed. "I've been waiting for this all my life!" And to himself he sighed, "I wonder if I can get Sinatra's autograph tonight?"

At the 500 Club, he sat between his mother and father, mesmerized. He studied every little vocal inflection, every little gesture, every scintillation of Sinatra's personality.

When the thrilling performance was finally over and Sinatra bowed off to thunderous applause, Bobby confided to his mother, "Mom, after watching Sinatra perform tonight, I know that I've got 40 years to go before I can even be half as good as he is!"

One of the execs from Cameo Records nudged him. "Bobby, there's a fellow beckoning to you from the backstage entrance. He's one of Sinatra's aides. I guess he wants you to go over."

Bobby leaped up. His heart thundered from excitement. Maybe Sinatra had a moment or him!

But as he moved toward the door, a man stopped him. "You're Bobby Rydell! Of course! My daughter's a fan of yours and she'd kill me if she knew I saw you and failed to get your autograph."

Bobby paused. A fan comes first, always. He had been trained to believe that.

So he signed the autograph, answered the questions, and moved away toward the man waiting at the backstage door. As he got there, the man moved away and toward the exit. And by the time Bobby went out of the exit into the street, Sinatra's car, with Sinatra and other men in it, was gliding away.

Bobby went back to his table, glum.

"Got there too late," he confessed. "He probably waited for me, and now he'll never forgive me."

His mother comforted him. "Bobby, wait. Don't think it's the end of the world. You will meet him when you lest expect it. You'll see!"

Washington, D. C.

Bobby was a big hit at the Lotus Club in Washington and the management kept saying, "Bobby, you were so good here and we like you so much. What can we do for you? Just ask for it!"

Bobby said, "Really the only thing you could give me that would really mean something to me...is that caricature of Frank Sinatra up on your wall."

The management explained, "We can't give you the original; the artist wouldn't let us, but we'll make a first-rate copy of it, and give it to you."

Philadelphia, Pa.

Bobby met his neighbor Frankie Avalon and told him about the wonderful caricature of Sinatra that he had brought in from Washington.

But Frankie Avalon wasn't impressed.

"Ha!" he snorted. "You got a caricature of Sinatra! Well, I've got a photo of him and me together!"

"Well, said Bobby, fumbling for the right answer, "some day, I'll have my picture taken with Sinatra, too!"

NewYork

Frankie Day told Bobby, "Well, that deal for the Sands in Las Vegas is set. Three-year contract!"

"Gee," said Bobby. "that's the hotel that Sinatra works so often. Well, when I work there, I'm going to ask Jack Entratter [the managing director] to please introduce me to Sinatra. Think he might do that for me?"

"Sure he will," Day said. "Sure he will."

Hollywood

"Well," said Frankie Day, "we had a hard day. and I think we deserve a good dinner. A good Italian dinner. Of course, not as good as your mom makes, or your grandma...but the best you can get in a restaurant."

"I'm ready, man" Bobby agreed.

They got into their fancy Chrysler Imperial, and Day said, "I know the place, Puccini's!" What he didn't say was that Sinatra often dined there, and perhaps he would be there that night.

When they reached Puccnin's, Bobby lingered out in the parking area. He seemed transfixed. He kept staring at an imported Dual-Ghia. What a car!

The doorman came over and smiled. "Some car, eh? You like that car?"

"Sure, you kidding?"

"It belongs to Frank."

"Frank? Frank who?"

"Frank Sinatra. Who else?"

"Sinatra? Is he here tonight?"

"Sure is! He's inside having dinner."

Bobby's knees shook. Finally...maybe...perhaps...with luck...he might...

Day and Bobby walked in, and Bobby peered through the dim lights, looking.

Then he saw him, Sinatra, surrounded by several men, off at a big corner table.

He walked in a daze to the table offered by the headwaiter, then told his manager, "Sinatra is here...See him over in that corner...Gee!"

All during dinner, Bobby kept sighing. "I sure wish somebody would introduce me to Sinatra. This is the closest....I I wish I had the nerve to go over and introduce myself...but that wouldn't be polite..."

Finally, Day said, "Bobby, there's only one thing to do. Get up and walk over, and politely introduce yourself. He knows who you are. I'm sure he'll say hello. Try it."

"No," said Bobby. I'm scared. It wouldn't be nice to interrupt his dinner."

"Go ahead," Day urged.

"No, I don't have the nerve. My knees are shaking."

"Oh, go ahead!"

"Well, maybe after he's finished and if he walks by our table..."

"You'll never meet him if you're so chicken."

As they argued back and forth a waiter went to Sinatra's table and informed him, "Phone for you, Mr. Sinatra." Then Sinatra got up and disappeared from view.

After awhile, the others at the table got up and left, and Sinatra never came back.

"Guess he got called away on something very important," Day explained. "Poor guy. They don't even let him finish his dinner.

Bobby looked glumly at his plate of spaghetti. "Well," he said, addressing nobody in particular, "That's the story of my life!" Always missing Sinatra!"

New York

Bobby and his dad and Frankie Day decided to relax that night and go see the show at the Copacabana. Bobby liked the Copa because he had worked there and had made many friends. Much of the evening was spent shaking hands and reminiscing.

As he sat at his table with his dad, a waiter came over and whispered, "Frankie is at a ringside table tonight."

"That's funny," Bobby said to himself. "My manager is up in the Lounge talking to Mr. Podell [the owner]. Why should he be at a ringside table?"

Then his manager came over and joined him, and Bobby said, "They must mean another Frankie...wonder who?"

His eyes wandered around the ringside....and there was the most famous Frankie in the world...Sinatra!"

He could hardly keep his eyes on the show that night; he kept watching Sinatra's reactions. And when the show was over, Bobby got up and said, "Dad, this time I'm going over and introduce myself."

But before he could make a move, several waiters made a circle around Sinatra and helped him ease out of the crowd and out the side door leading out of the club.

"Lost him again!" he sighed.

Later, all three of them went up into the Lounge to sit and chat with the owner, Jules Podell. As they sat, Bobby glimpsed Sinatra coming out of a side door to sit in a corner with his friends.

Bobby confided to Mr. Podell, "I've waited all my life to meet Sinatra personally. He's my idol! And there he is...And I don't know what to do."

Podell said, "He's your idol, eh? Well, wait here, and I'll see what I can do." Then he walked over to Sinatra's table and told Sinatra, "Bobby Rydell's here, and he's a good kid, and he's just dying to meet you, Frank."

"Sure," said Sinatra.

Podell went back to Bobby's table and escorted Bobby, his dad and his manager over to Sinatra's table.

"Frank this is Bobby, a good kid, and his dad. And his manager, Frankie Day."

"Hello, Robert," Sinatra said, turning around to give Bobby a big smile. "Way don't you sit down, and have a drink with us?"

Waiters brought over chairs, and they sat down. "I'll have a Coke," said Bobby. "Me too," said his dad and Frankie Day.

"Frank," said Podell, "Bobby is a good kid. And a terrific talent, too."

"I know," said Sinatra. "I've seen him."

They exchanged pleasant talk, and then Bobby whispered to Podell, "Think I can get a photo of myself with Mr. Sinatra? It would mean so much to me!" He kept thinking of Frankie Avalon's boast that he had his photo taken with Sinatra.

Podell called over a cameraman and told Sinatra, "Pose with the kid. You'll make him happy."

"Sure," said Sinatra. "Sure." Then he took the album, "Bobby Rydell at the Copa" that Podell was holding, and he held it in his right hand while he put his left arm around Bobby's shoulder.

Then Sinatra urged Bobby's dad and manager to come up and pose, too, and they did.

They all sat around for awhile, then Bobby, his dad, and his manager excused themselves. It was late, and they had to drive back to Philadelphia. Sinatra understood, and everybody shook hands while Sinatra wished Bobby well and assured him he and a great future.

That's when Bobby resist to the nearest phone and phoned his mother in Philadelphia.

It was 4 A.M. and he knew his mother would be sleeping...but he also knew that she would never forgive him if he had kept the great news to himself one more minute: that he had finally met Frank Sinatra.

That's why he fairly shouted into the phone: "Mom, tonight I met God!"