Sh-Boom! by Clay Cole

Author:Clay Cole
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781600376382
Publisher: Morgan James Publishing

Following our ten-day Easter show, the Paramount shuttered; the historic theatre became the gymnasium for Long Island University in 1962.

Spring of 1961, the bubble burst; Eli Landau called the hundreds of employees of Channel 13 to a meeting in the ballroom studios in Newark. Channel 13’s license was being sold to Educational Broadcasting Corp, a commercial-free, public supported, educational station, a radical new broadcasting idea. We were closing down; I was out-of-work. All the first times were over, all the momentum my career had gathered with a hit film, and a hit record and a hit TV show came to a screeching halt.

The news of my cancellation hit me hard, but the knockout punch was about to delivered from none other than Sid Bernstein, himself. We were sharing an amicable cab ride through Central Park when he sheepishly broke the news: The Easter Show6 at the Brooklyn Paramount was no longer mine. Without the power of my television show, he had signed radio deejay Murray the K to replace me. I was stunned. I tried to maintain my cool, but, like steam erupting in a cold-water flat, my blood was boiling. My TV show was my leverage, and I had no show. Logic prevailed – loyalty aside, this was a necessary business decision. As a consolation, Sid offered me “special guest star” billing – but it was Murray’s show.

The following Christmas, Sid offer me a spot on his all-star, five-day holiday show at The Medinah Temple in Chicago (December 26-30th 1961), along with all my old pals, Dion, Frank Gari, Johnny Tillotson, Eddie Hodges, Freddie Cannon, Brenda Lee, Vicki Spencer, the Marvelettes, Solomon Burke and Clarence “Frogman” Henry – all straight off the Hot 100. Ral Donner, Chicago’s own rockabilly sensation, was also featured, but in spite of that killer lineup, the house didn’t rock. It was a bust that left Sid Bernstein flat broke. I purchased Sid’s airline ticket home, arriving in New York on New Year’s Eve – the eve of my birthday. Needing to elevate my mood, I phoned Raysa, “put on your sparkly top, we’re going out tonight!”

The classic nightspot for a New York New Year’s Eve was The Stork Club, so I called on the chance we might get a last-minute reservation, and we did. This was going to be our best New Year’s ever, just like in the movies. It was just like in the movies; Jimmy Stewart and his wife Gloria were seated at the very next table. The Stewarts were seated with the rubber baron, Harvey Firestone, and Mrs. Firestone, who was whining loudly about their high-brow television show, “The Voice of Firestone,” being cancelled after twenty-five years on radio and TV. (Mrs. Firestone had composed the theme songs.) Then, Jimmy Stewart and his wife got into an escalating shouting match; champagne was stimulating their brouhaha. Raysa and I put on our little paper hats, honking into our noisemakers to lighten the mood, provoking scowls and icy stares from the stoic party-poopers at adjoining tables.

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