What had been, before life threw me a curve

1967 - 1969 Philadelphia,  New Jersey, New York City

Between the years 1967 and 1969 when I went into the Army, with the help of two very special people, Buddy Greco (My “Buddy”) and Jimmy Durante (The Schnozzola - Jimmy Durante), I had established myself as an up-and-coming nightclub performer, even though I was still in my late teenage years. Whenever a big name performer came into Philadelphia to play one of the clubs there, I was on the list of local performers who was considered a solid opening act. Normally I would go on at 8:00 PM and at 10:00 PM, do a 20 minute singing act and then introduce the headliner. Between shows I would do my homework in the kitchen and head home usually while the headliner was doing his second show of the night.

So I thought, with that wave of nostalgia, that I would write a few words about some of those people who I had the opportunity to work with back then:

Jack E. Leonard

Imagine a nasty version and physically larger version of Don Rickles (Don always said he modeled his act after Jack E.). Jack E. pretty much invented insult comedy. He would rove around the room, going from table to table and insulting the customers – and they loved it. He would insult the band, the waiters, the bartenders, even me – but he did it in such a funny way, no one got offended.

Buddy Hackett

Buddy was a nervous wreck off-stage and a profuse sweater. He would have to change shirts between shows because the one he wore for the first show was soaked through by the time he told his last joke. Buddy, despite his chubby cherub looks, was the dirtiest comic I ever worked with. I will never forget one night, walking by his dressing room between shows. He was seated at the table with a pad of yellow legal paper and a pencil. He would scribble something, look at it, say “F**K”, crumple it up and add it to the scraps of paper littering the floor. I asked him what he was doing and he answered, “I’m booked to play the Ed Sullivan Show this Sunday, kid, and I’m trying my damndest to come up with five minutes of clean jokes. Leave me alone!” – and I hastily retreated.

Jack Carter

Like most comedians I worked with, Jack was very, very serious and self-contained. We worked together for two weeks – and I never really got to know him.

Al Martino

I rarely opened for singers, being a singer myself, but Al liked me and we got on well. Not terribly friendly but not unfriendly either. The only issue he had with me was making sure I didn’t sing anything that he was planning to sing, but that was easy to settle between us.

Dean Martin

Another one of those entertainers who Buddy Greco introduced me to and who I worked with several times. Despite his laid-back on stage persona, Dean was incredibly professional and meticulous in his work ethic. And, despite his image, "sober as a judge".

I would finish my act, glance over at the wings where he would be pouring apple juice into an Old-Fashioned glass and announce him "Now, ladies and gentlemen, direct from the bar - Dean Martin!"  He would come out, look at me and say loudly, "How did all these people get into my room, kid?" and I would exit.  He would then grab the audience, hold them in the palm of his hand and entertain them for the next hour.

Like many of the other performers, we would talk between shows and he would analyze my act and make helpful criticisms on how I could improve. We never talked much about personal things, just about entertaining, singing and music.

Sammy Davis Jr.

Sam was exhausting to be with - he had so much energy that, if they could have found a way to tap that energy, you could have had enough power to light every room in the Empire State Building. His regular opening act was Hines, Hines & Dad (Gregory & Maurice Hines and their father) but he was scheduled to play the Latin Casino in New Jersey for a week and “Dad” twisted an ankle – not good for a tap dancing act! Buddy and I were at Palumbo’s in Philadelphia and Sam came to see Buddy about 9:30 PM, while we were on break between shows, thinking to ask him to fill in for the Hines’. Buddy had a conflict so he said, “How about Rich?” (without telling me) and Sammy stayed. When I finished my closing song and was about to introduce Buddy (who I saw standing next to Sam in the back of the room), Sammy came running up, grabbed me, hugged me and told the audience that I would be opening for him at the Latin the next week. He never actually asked me, but I wouldn’t have said “No”.

The Latin Casino was packed every night. Sammy was marvelous - and even I wasn’t bad. Celebrities came down from New York City and Sammy introduced me to them – Bobby Darin, Dean Martin, Louis Prima & Keely Smith, Steve Lawrence & Edye Gorme, Redd Foxx and – Frank Sinatra (yes, dear reader, the hand that is typing this blog post once shook Frank Sinatra’s hand!). Based on that week, I got booked into the lounge at the Flamingo Hotel in Las Vegas (not as glamorous as you might think - think of the beginning of Whoppi Goldberg’s movie Sister Act.). Things were looking up!

My second day in Las Vegas I got a call from my Mom. A boy who lived down the street from us, born on the same day as I but only 4 hours later, had gotten his draft notice. I went down to the Selective Service office in Las Vegas, had my physical and found that I was 1-A prime draft material. I went to the various recruiters to see what was the best deal I could get rather than be drafted into either the Army or Marines as cannon fodder and enlisted in the Army in Military Intelligence.

My last show at the Flamingo was bittersweet. It had become my dream to graduate from Opening Act to Headliner and I felt I was almost there - and now Uncle Sam said “No, kid. You have to go to Vietnam”. 

Three days later, I was back in Philadelphia at the AFEES Station being sworn into the Army and heading off to Basic Training at Fort Dix, NJ. By the time my initial enlistment ended, the nightclubs and supper clubs were almost all gone, I had a wife, a son and another on the way. So I re-enlisted and eventually stayed in until I retired 27 years later.

The dream was gone – but the memories remain…