Boys, Bobby Socks, and Bandstand

Some dreams do come true.

Judy Goldstein

The Harold Standard, Pittsburgh PA

May 28, 2006

Special thanks to Andrea Forte for providing us with this article.

     The day before I turned 10, my grandfather died.  I knew I would miss him, but the real trauma for me was that my neighbors gave me flowers on my birthday instead of the Elvis 45s they had promised me.

      During the late 1950s, I replaced the heartthrob from Memphis with Fabian Forte, Frankie Avalon and Bobby Rydell from Philadelphia.  I had seen them on Dick Clark’s American Bandstand as they rose to fame with recordings such as “Turn Me Loose” and “Tiger” (Fabian), “Venus” and “De De Dinah” (Frankie), “Wild One” and “Kissin’ Time” (Bobby).  I’d rush home from school to turn on our Magnavox television, with the hope that this would be the day they would be performing.

     The “Golden Boys on Bandstand” were it for me.  My diary runneth over with praise.  I slept with posters of the Fabulous Fabian, Frankie, and Bobby taped to the wall beside my bed.  I’d close my eyes and imagine what it would be like to taste their sweet lips.  I envied Annette Funnicello because she was their friend.

     Bobby was my favorite.  His “Wildwood Days”, “Swingin’ School”, “Sway”, and “Volare” were other hits I played repeatedly on my hi-fi.  When listening to “Forget Him” I thought I never would.

     I can’t recall when I stopped adoring teen idols, but my passion actually ebbed.   I suspect it was because issues such as the Cold War and the threat of nuclear destruction had become more important to me.

     I went off to college, married, had babies, and made cakes and contributions to my community.  I divorced after a decade and had a job as a writer, applying the skills I had acquired before my husband and I had tied (and then broken) the nuptial knot.  My first assignment for a newspaper was to interview entertainers who had come to town and were performing locally.  I met the Osmonds, Teddy Pendergrass, and others.  Eventually, I hit pay dirt. 

     It was 1988.  A classic Oldies show was coming, and Bobby Rydell was among the featured performers.  I didn’t care much about Little Anthony, Martha & The Vandellas, The Shirelles, or Leslie Gore, who also were headliners.  “Judy’s Turn To Cry” may have been on the pop charts, but this Judy wasn’t crying at all.  The one I couldn’t forget – Bobby – was my prize.

     During our interview at the hotel where he was staying, a 40- something Bobby Rydell (without the pompadour) gave me insight into those Happy days.   I also learned that producer Dick Fox had brought the former Philly idols back together three years earlier to tour as “The Golden Boys.”

     As our interview wrapped up, Bobby invited me to the show that evening.  Then he headed for the pool deck to get some sun with his musical arranger, Dave.

     I was almost out the lobby door when they returned, saying that every pool chaise had been taken.  Because it was the “season” in South Florida and occupancy rates at hotels were high, I wasn’t surprised.

     Then my true genius kicked in.

     Within five minutes I was driving Bobby and Dave to my nearby townhouse to sunbathe with them in my backyard and to introduce them to my teenage daughters (all the while feeling like a teenager myself).

     Spending time together that afternoon, then going backstage that evening, started a friendship with bobby that has lasted for years.  When he returns to South Florida to perform, I usually attend his show.

     Recently he called to say that “The Golden Boys” were coming to town.  In addition to hot flashes, I experienced flashbacks to soda shops, pink shoelaces and my very own itsy, bitsy, teeny weenie, yellow polka dot bikini.  As a baby boomer who was acting 14 again, I immediately arranged for a seat at the theatre that would be up close and personal.

     Seeing this show, in particular, gave me a feeling of great satisfaction.  After all, those three guys who had once taken my breath away were, at last, standing in front of me, rather than looking out from my bedroom wall.

     The experience did, however, make me realize how years have a way of changing people and their priorities.  Kissing these performers was no longer what I wished for.  But it was fun to see these stars of yesterday who survived mass teen hysteria, Beatlemania, disco, advent of MTV, and Ipods.  That they still are popular is quite an achievement in an industry where one can be the rage one day and forgotten the next.

     Since their heyday, they have continued performing individually, together, and with others.  They have appeared in movies and on TV, sold millions of records and CDs, and entertained a U. S. president.  But, at that moment, it felt as if they had just performed for me.

     Some dreams do come true.  Mama said there’d be days like this.