By Jeff Marcus

There’s something hauntingly prophetic in Ricky Nelson’s 1962 hit “Teenage Idol.” In fact, it could easily stand as Fabian Forte’s musical biography (“Some people call me a teenage idol/Some people say they envy me/I guess they got no way of knowing/How lonesome I can be”).

Fabian Forte was easily one of the ’50s most popular teen dreams, leaning more toward Elvis Presley’s raw sexuality than the boy-next-door charms of Frankie Avalon or Bobby Rydell, his Philadelphia counterparts. In the looks department, Fabian was two parts Elvis with one part Ricky Nelson.

Fabian Anthony Forte, aka teen idol Fabian, acknowledges that he felt like a fish out of water when he began his music career. Photo courtesy Music Nostalgia.

Even in song, Fabian’s small catalog of tunes has more in common with Elvis. While Frankie was crooning about “Venus” and Bobby was belting out lounge lizard classics like “Volaré,” Fabian was declaring “I’m A Man” and a “Tiger,” so “Turn Me Loose” (“Gonna get a 1,000 kicks/ Gonna kiss a thousand chicks/So turn me loose”). Ozzie and Harriet would certainly not have stood for that.

What sets Fabian apart from the dozens of others that became members of this club is that he didn’t seek out fame and fortune — it literally landed in his driveway.

Fabian Anthony Forte (his real name; many writings cite it erroneously as Fabiano) was 14-½ years old when he stood in his driveway and watched an ambulance whisk his very ill father off to the hospital. At the same time, a man drove up to his neighbor’s house. The man was struck by the scene unfolding in front of him.

“Are you interested in the rock and roll business?” the man asked a nearly sobbing Fabian, who had to stay behind to look after his two younger brothers. Fabian told the man to go to hell. That man was Bob Marcucci of Chancellor Records.
Fabian’s neighbor kept prodding him to talk to their friend. When it became apparent that Fabian’s father could no longer work, the young teen, who had a job in a drugstore delivering packages, reluctantly agreed to take a meeting with Marcucci.

“If I can make any money, I’ll give it a shot,” Fabian told the record executive.

Marcucci and crew quickly threw him into rehearsing (which made him uncomfortable), they picked out his wardrobe (which he hated), and put him on $30-a-week allowance (which he liked).

“I was a fish out of water. I was awkward and didn’t know what the hell I was doing,” exclaimed Fabian.

It showed. Fabian’s story isn’t exaggerated for entertainment’s sake. In viewing old television appearances, he resembles a kid who was thrown in the ocean without a life preserver. Fabian is stiff as a plank. His arms flap at his sides like wet noodles and his eyes wander all over the place as if to say, “Save me, I’m drowning.” He was. The guy looks as if he’s naked to the world (which he was once, in an infamous 1973 Playgirl spread, but that’s another story).

“At first I didn’t like it,” Fabian said during an interview at his 20-acre ranch in southwest Pennsylvania. “I was like a rebel without a clue.”

If Fabian is anything, he’s brutally honest: “I made my first record — a horrible, horrible record called ‘Shivers,’” which became a local hit.

Philadelphia gave birth to many teen idols, as “American Bandstand” was rooted there.

“I was brought over to meet Dick Clark. I did the next record, called ‘I’m In Love,’ which was not very good, either. It got such a great response from the audience, that the next song I did called ‘I’m A Man’ by Doc Pomus and Mort Shuman, which I liked a lot and was very comfortable with, was giving me more experience, but I still felt like a fish out of water.” It became Fabian’s first national hit and landed firmly in the national Top 40, peaking at No. 31 in the winter of 1959.

Fabian never lost sight as to why he agreed to become a reluctant star.

“I was doing it for my family,” he says, as if he’s telling this story for the first time. “I didn’t really like what I was doing with the pompadour and the white bucks, which I f**king hated. But I had a goal.”

Within a 13 short months, Fabian placed eight songs in the Top 40, three of which made it into the Top 10. Not bad for a guy who never wanted to be a star and admits that he wasn’t much of a singer to begin with. Fabian became one of the first manufactured rock stars who rode the wave of fame simply because he had the look.

Like most teen idols, he had a one-year shelf life before the new flavor pushed him aside. Fabian placed one more record on the charts, a 1960 single called “Kissin’ And Twistin’.” It peaked at No. 91. Fabian’s recording career evaporated as quickly as it began.

By the time his recording career began to fade, Fabian had already made the jump to movies, including his role oppostie Jimmy Stewart in "Mr. Hobbs Takes a Vacation." Photo courtesy Jeff Marcus collection.

Fabian also went Hollywood, a natural segue, as Elvis had shown the industry how profitable rock and roll could be. His 1959 movie hit, “Hound-Dog Man,” resembled Elvis’ “Love Me Tender,” released three years earlier. Even the photos of each star’s wardrobe test are eerily similar. Fabian is forever being criticized as the poor man’s Elvis Presley, but Conway Twitty, Ral Donner and Terry Stafford did the same thing.

Fabian remembers the day he met his doppelganger.

“My road manager told me that Elvis was on the phone and that he wanted to meet me. I asked him, ‘Why?’ He came up to my hotel room, which I couldn’t believe. I opened up the door, and there he was.”

Fabian said that both of them appeared awkward at first; Elvis was said to be terribly insecure and felt threatened by others who could steal the spotlight.

“We started laughing and joking around, and Elvis told me that he was learning karate. I had four other guys in the room with me. Elvis said, ‘Have your four guys surround me. I want to practice my karate.’ He wanted to do it, and he did it, and he got around them and knocked them all on their ass. He ripped his pants, by the way. I gave him a pair of my pants to wear home. That’s how I met Elvis Presley.”

Eventually, Fabian became more comfortable performing, and it showed when he appeared as a guest on Dean Martin’s program. There is a great clip of the master crooner sharing a duet with Fabian on “I Love To Love.” Surrounded by a bevy of beauties, Dean tells Fabian: “Don’t touch nuttin’.” When Fabian belts out the lyrics “squeeze me” to one of the girls, Martin begins to hug him. Fabian delivers his line, “Not you” with precision timing. The guy showed that he clearly had potential.

Fabian became a capable actor, landing roles in John Wayne’s “North To Alaska” and “Bus Stop,” under the direction of the highly acclaimed Robert Altman, which Fabian calls a career high point.

“Acting came natural to me,” Fabian declares. Still unsure of himself, he adds, “I don’t know why.”

He held his own with screen legends, including Bing Crosby (“High Time”), Jimmy Stewart (“Mr. Hobbs Takes a Vacation” and “Dear Brigitte”) and Robert Redford (“Up Close And Personal.”)

Yet, Fabian’s uncertainty in himself reminds me the old cartoon gag, where the central character has a devil perched on one shoulder and an angel on the other. Fabian is always caught in a one-on-one tug of war with himself.

Neil Sedaka discovered his skill for writing songs at the tender age of 13. He teamed up with Howard Greenfield, and the duo were among the noteworthy Brill Building songwriters who meticulously crafted hit after hit. Photo courtesy Jeff Marcus collection.

While Fabian never will be mistaken as one of the great singers of rock and roll, he hardly is the worst, as he has been dubbed by many critics (anyone remember Paul Petersen or Edd “Kookie” Byrnes?).

There is this thing that happens to all teenagers: They grow up. When adult life becomes complicated, and we learn that father didn’t always know best, we tend to embrace the things we held dear from our childhood. That rite of passage has allowed Fabian, who still tours for enthusiastic fans, to survive more than 50 years after he begrudgingly joined the teen idol club. And no one is more surprised about that than Fabian himself.

If you searched the world over, you couldn’t find a teen idol who differed more from Fabian than Neil Sedaka. The Brooklyn-born pianist studied at the prestigious Juilliard School of Music for six years at the prep level and a few years at the college level. Neil had every intention of becoming a classical musician and studied with renowned instructors like Rosina Levine.

At age 13, Neil discovered that he had a knack for writing songs. In high school, he was in a doo-wop group called The Tokens, who later had a hit with “The Lion Sleeps Tonight”; Sedaka had left the fold by that time.

Young Neil stumbled upon a 16-year-old poet who lived in his Brighton Beach apartment complex by the name of Howard Greenfield.

Songwriting team Howard Greenfield (left) and Neil Sedaka were working with Connie Francis to find her follow-up hit to "Who's Sorry Now?" when Sedaka played "Stupid Cupid." After eight bars, Francis said, "That's my next record." Sedaka and Greenfield were writing partners until Greenfield's death in 1986.

“He knocked at my door and asked if I wanted to write songs,” Sedaka says in his distinctive New York accent.
Sedaka was reluctant at first, “as I was too busy with my Chopin and Bach. But he convinced me, and I’m glad he did.” (The duo remained writing partners until Greenfield’s death March 4, 1986).

Prior to their Brill building fame, Sedaka and Greenfield penned several hits over at Atlantic Records for artists ranging from Clyde McPhatter and LaVern Baker to The Cookies, who later provided background vocals on Neil’s career-defining song, “Breaking Up Is Hard To Do.”

The musical partnership of Sedaka and Greenfield was the first in a long line of writing teams to be employed by Brill Building entrepreneurs Don Kirshner and Al Nevins for their publishing arm of Aldon Music in 1958.

Neil explains in spectacular detail just what a day in the life of the Brill Building was like: “We would go in from 10 a.m. until five in the afternoon. Howie and I were the first team. I was friends with Carole King, and I brought her up a few months later. Yes, we had our own cubicles with a piano and a desk. If you got a hit, you graduated to a room with a window. That was a big deal. It was the first time that it was young writers and an independent publisher writing for the young teenage market.”

The walls were thin at the Brill Building, and writing teams could hear what another group was doing next to them, creating a healthy competition as a result of cheap construction.

“I always wrote for myself,” Neil continues. “It was a lot of fun, and we lived and breathed music.”

The famed Brill Building in New York City was home to a variety of talented songwriters, including Neil Sedaka, Neil Diamond, Carole King, Gerry Goffin, Jerry Leiber, Mike Stoller, Paul Simon, Laura Nyro, Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart.

One of the first jobs Sedaka and Greenfield had was to create some hits for teen singing sensation Connie Francis.

“I was playing all of my best ballads for her, because she just had a No. 1 record with ‘Who’s Sorry Now?’ and she was looking for a follow-up, thinking that she would want another ballad. She was bored, she was on the phone, she was writing in her diary, so I whispered to Howie that I’m going to play her ‘Stupid Cupid,’ and he said, ‘Oh, no — that’s not her style.’ I said, ‘I don’t give a shit; I’m playing it.’ She said after eight bars, ‘That’s my next record,”’ Sedaka remembers fondly. (The duo also wrote Francis’ signature tune “Where The Boys Are.”)

Neil was the first Brill Building artist to sing his own songs. Don Kirshner and Al Nevins set up an audition for Neil to sing for RCA Victor’s A&R man Steve Shoals, who had brought Elvis to the label over from Sun Records. Sedaka was signed to a recording contract, and from 1958 to 1963, “I was the Justin Bieber of the late ’50s through the early ’60s,” he says with a chuckle. Sedaka’s first national solo hit was “The Diary,” a song loosely based on the scribblings of Connie Francis during those song audition sessions.

The timing for Neil’s singing debut couldn’t have been better. Rock and roll had been hit hard by the Payola scandal,  and many of its original performers were missing in action — Elvis was in the Army, Little Richard found God and Jerry Lee Lewis married his 13-year-old cousin. In an effort to clean up rock music, labels combed the landscape for the next clean teen dreamboat. They found a poster boy in Neil Sedaka.

From 1958 to 1963, Sedaka amassed 13 Top-40 hits, with six of them placing firmly in the national Top 10. “Breaking Up Is Hard To Do,” the song he is most identified with, reached No. 1 for two weeks in the summer of 1962.

From songs like "Calendar Girl" to "Breaking up Is Hard to Do," Neil Sedaka scored plenty of pop hits in his career, amassing 13 Top 40 hits from 1958 to 1963 alone. Publicity photo

Unlike many of his teen-idol counterparts, Sedaka was enormously successful in other countries, particularly the U.K. and Italy. It was in Italy that Neil created what essentially became the medium’s first real music videos. A company called Scopitone had jukeboxes with TV screens; Neil’s promo clips for “Breaking Up Is Hard To Do” and “Calendar Girl” are fascinating to view. “Calendar Girl,” in particular, is something you would see 21 years later on MTV. Filled with lavish sets and Busby Berkeley-esque showgirls, the promo film has all the posh production ingredients of an MGM Hollywood musical from the 1930s and 1940s.

While Sedaka was comfortable embracing the world of pop, he never lost his classical sensibilities, as the piano solo on “Calendar Girl” or the classical melodies of “Laughter In The Rain” and “Solitaire” clearly demonstrate. He was one of the first pop-rock artists to successfully blend rock and classical music together, long before The Beatles, The Moody Blues or the Electric Light Orchestra came along. Sedaka is the rock era’s original piano man.

By the end of 1962, Neil’s “aw shucks” image lost its flavor with the public at large. Like so many American performers who were cast aside in their native land, Neil relocated to England, where audiences continued to embrace and respect the early pioneers of the rock era.

“I was out of work in New York and in the United States. I figured since The Beatles came here and invaded, I would go to England. Why? Because the English were very faithful fans, especially for the original American rock and rollers — Gene Pitney, me and Bobby Vee were very big. At the request of one of my agents, I went and lived there for three years, and I recorded two successful albums in the U.K.,” Sedaka says.

That move set off one of the biggest musical comebacks in the rock era. It was in England that Neil met Elton John at a Bee Gees concert (Neil was good friends with the late Maurice Gibb).

“Elton said he was a fan of the old Neil Sedaka records. ‘Can I come over to your flat and listen?’ (to Neil’s new material), and I said absolutely. And he walked in with his sequins and his high-heel things and his rhinestone glasses. Elton played me ‘Candle In The Wind,’ which he had just written, and I cried.”

Elton then asked Neil to play him some of his new songs. When Neil finished, John told him that he could make him a recording star again in America. Neil asked Elton, who was the biggest rock star on the planet at the time, “Really?”

John had recently launched his own, Rocket Records, and signed Sedaka to the roster. The partnership produced an instant No. 1 hit with “Laughter In The Rain” in 1974 from the album “Sedaka’s Back.” A poignant track called “The Immigrant,” a song about John Lennon’s United States immigration difficulties, reached No. 22 in early ’75. Another No. 1-smash hit followed, when “Bad Blood” stayed at the top spot for three weeks, with Elton providing background vocals. In the same year, Sedaka earned the Record of the Year when Captain & Tennille had a No. 1 hit version of “Love Will Keep Us Together.” The composition originally was recorded by Sedaka on his 1973 U.K. LP “The Tra-La Days Are Over” and appeared stateside on “Sedaka’s Back” the following year.

But even more than Sedaka’s phenomenal comeback, it was the next song that took everyone by surprise. Sedaka dusted off his 13-year-old hit “Breaking Up Is Hard To Do” and rerecorded it as a ballad, taking it to No. 8 on the pop charts and No. 1 on the adult contemporary charts in 1976. To this day, Neil remains the only singer-songwriter to have a Top 10 hit with a different version of the same song. The only other song that achieve this feat was The Ventures’ “Walk, Don’t Run” and “Walk, Don’t Run ’64.”

So how did the Sedaka’s historical accomplishment come about?

“I was friends with Lenny Welch, who had a hit with ‘Since I Fell For You,’ and he was looking for a follow-up and I was noodling one day, by myself, at the piano, and I discovered that ‘Breaking Up’ worked as a slow ballad. I played it for him. He loved it, he recorded it and had a hit with it. I put it in my own show as an encore, and it got such a good reaction that I decided to re-record it as a ballad.”

Today, at age 72, Sedaka — who professed that he’s an amusement park “roller-coaster freak” and that he loves the music of Adele, Lady GaGa, John Mayer and Snow Patrol — still travels the world to perform for millions of adoring fans. He records in five languages and recently did a Yiddish album, as well as a collection called “Classically Sedaka,” writing original lyrics to Rachmaninoff and Chopin. Sedaka also released a successful children’s LP, where he changed the words to his classic hits, calling it “Waking Up Is Hard To Do.” He recently he recorded his first symphony and piano concertos with the London Philharmonic. He’s even the subject of a West End play called “Laughter In The Rain.” Perhaps, Sedaka should title his next album “Retiring Is Hard To Do.”

So why isn’t Neil Sedaka in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame? After all, his piano-men contemporaries — Elton John and Billy Joel — are inducted.

“I deserve to be in it, because there are not many who have lasted so long, who have written so many hits, and I don’t mean to boast, but I deserve it,” Sedaka said, adding “I hope in my lifetime.”

Marcus is author of the two-book series “American Record Sleeves.” Visit his website at www.recordsleevebooks.com

As 1956 began, Elvis Presley had recently signed with RCA Records, but he was still just a regional sensation, best known in his native South. The next 12 months would change that for good. By the end of the year, Elvis would make 11 television appearances, filmed his first movie and become RCA’s best-selling artist. He was a household name, the most controversial performer in showbiz and the first true rock ’n’ roll star.

This exciting year in Presley’s career is being celebrated by two new releases. A repackaging of the “Elvis: The Great Performances” DVD scales down the set from three to two discs but still showcases many of Presley’s most notable appearances (although the new release has a washed-out look in comparison to the 2002, three-disc edition). And “Young Man With The Big Beat,” a five-CD set, has every master recording Presley made in that historic year, plus live material and other extras (see review on page 23). 1956 was a transformational year for Presley, and in many ways set the stage for much of what was to come.

Elvis Presley delivers an electrifying performance Oct. 11, 1956, at The Cotton Bowl in Dallas. Photo courtesy Magic Collection/RCA/Legacy.

On Jan. 1, 1956, Presley was on stage in St. Louis, part of a Grand Ole Opry package headlined by Hank Snow. The show was followed by other dates — Presley would perform more than 200 shows during the year — but the gigs were merely a warm-up for the first big business of the month: Presley’s first recording session for RCA in Nashville. Anticipation was running high when Presley and his band — guitarist Scotty Moore, bassist Bill Black and drummer DJ Fontana — arrived at the studio Jan. 10. But if Presley was nervous, he didn’t show it.

“Elvis was easy to work with in the studio,” remembers Fontana. “He didn’t want anybody nervous at all; if people got nervous, he’d say, ‘Let’s go home, guys; we’ll come back another day.’ He knew what he wanted to do, and he knew what he wanted to hear. He had a good ear; he had a real good ear. He’d say, ‘Well, let’s do this, we’ll do that.’ Or he’d say, ‘Anybody got any suggestions? What can we do?’ And if he didn’t like it, he’d say, ‘Nah, we’ll do something else.’ Whatever Elvis said, well, that was the end of it. He was the main guy. We had producers sitting there reading a comic book or something; that’s about what they did. He didn’t really pay a lot of attention to them, ’cause he knew what he wanted to do. And they couldn’t argue with him, ’cause he was generally right.”

On Jan. 10-11, Presley recorded four songs, including the song planned as his first single, “Heartbreak Hotel.” It had a dark, brooding sound quite different from the rollicking songs Presley had recorded at Sun, and no one at the session viewed it as very special — at least not yet.

“It stands out, yeah,” says Fontana. “But it was just another song to everybody. We still hoped it would be a big record for him, and he did, too.”

When Steve Sholes, who’d signed Presley to RCA and had produced the Nashville sessions, brought “Heartbreak Hotel” back to New York, his bosses were unsure of its appeal; this wasn’t the sound they expected, and they’d also hoped more songs would’ve been recorded during the sessions. Even those who liked Presley’s music weren’t sure what to make of the song.

“I couldn’t imagine Elvis recording something like ‘Heartbreak Hotel,’” says Wanda Jackson, who’d played several shows with Elvis. “I thought that was just totally different than what the fans were going to want from him. I was just baffled; I said, ‘What have they done? Taking him to Nashville and making him record songs like this?’ But I was proven wrong, and I was glad. Now, I think it’s one of the best songs he ever recorded.”

The single was released Jan. 27, and Presley made his national TV debut the following day on “Stage Show,” hosted by Tommy and Jimmy Dorsey. Heavy storms meant there weren’t many in the studio audience, but Elvis nonetheless seems brimming with confidence as he strides to the mike, wearing a speckled jacket, black shirt and white tie, letting out a short “W-e-l-l-l…” before launching into “Shake Rattle and Roll” (throwing in a bit of “Flip, Flop and Fly” at the end). But what really caught the audience’s attention were the moments during the instrumental breaks, when Elvis would step back to join his musicians and start jiving around with his legs.

“The country artists basically always just stood around and played,” says Jackson. “And they didn’t move. They didn’t do any gyrations, let’s call it that. And he did.”

Rehearsals of “Heartbreak Hotel” hadn’t gone well, so instead of performing his new single, Elvis also performed “I Got A Woman” next, then jauntily strode off into the wings.

Elvis Presley rests backstage after a May 15, 1956, performance in Memphis. Photo courtesy RCA/Legacy/Barney Sellers/Commercial Appeal.

Originally scheduled to appear on “Stage Show” four times, Presley’s run was extended to six shows, subsequent dates being Feb. 4, Feb. 11, Feb. 18, March 17 and  March 24. “Heartbreak Hotel” was finally deemed good enough for the Feb. 11 performance, in a decidedly rigid arrangement with the Dorsey orchestra horns; it fared better on March 17 and 24, and the single was soon moving up the charts. RCA was anxious to capitalize on all the exposure, and recording sessions were held Jan. 30, Jan. 31 and Feb. 3 in New York. Among the tracks recorded: a great rendition of Arthur Crudup’s “My Baby Left Me” (Crudup’s “That’s All Right (Mama)” had been Presley’s first single on Sun), and Carl Perkins’ “Blue Suede Shoes.” Presley hadn’t wanted to kill Perkins’ own chances of success with the song, so the track was kept as an album and EP release.

The “Elvis Presley” album was released March 23, as were single- and double-EP sets also named “Elvis Presley.” (In June, a third EP titled “Elvis Presley” was released.) In between “Stage Show” appearances, Elvis kept busy on the road, as the crowds continued to get bigger.

“He was just exploding,” Jackson recalls. “And he was having a ball with everything. He was fresh and new and young, energetic; it was a whole new era being born, and it was exciting. There was nothing to compare it to. No one had ever seen anything like him. He just single-handedly turned our business upside down.”

Plans were now made for Presley to move to an even bigger stage. From March 26-28, he was in Los Angeles, making his first screen test. In addition to performing a scene from “The Rainmaker,” he also was filmed lip-syncing to “Blue Suede Shoes,” a terrifically lively performance that fully reveals his obvious charisma. Producer Hal Wallis didn’t hesitate; he offered Elvis a seven-picture contract, with a provision allowing Presley to be loaned out to other studios. Presley was thrilled. As a keen movie fan, he looked forward to finally being able to make a film of his own.

March 31 was Presley’s last appearance on the “Louisiana Hayride” radio show, where he’d been a regular attraction. His contract was bought out so that he’d able to tour without being tied down to weekly “Hayride” appearances. There was more TV work on April 3, when Elvis made his first appearance on “The Milton Berle Show,” broadcast onboard the aircraft carrier “USS Hancock,” moored in San Diego, in front of an appreciative audience of sailors and their dates. Presley performed “Shake, Rattle and Roll,” “Blue Suede Shoes” and “Heartbreak Hotel,” looking relaxed and clearly having a ball. April also saw the release of the EP “Heartbreak Hotel.”

Elvis Presley performs on the Steve Allen Show July 1, 1956.

On April 14, after a near mishap on a small-plane flight the previous day, Presley recorded the ballad “I Want You, I Need You, I Love You” in Nashville. Ten days later, he opened in Las Vegas, playing the Venus Room at The New Frontier Hotel, along with Freddy Martin and His Orchestra and Shecky Greene. It was the first misstep in Presley’s career since his lukewarm reception on “The Grand Ole Opry” in 1954. The adult audiences in Vegas simply weren’t interested in the latest teen idol. Presley himself was so despondent about his reception he later recalled, “After that first night, I went outside and just walked around in the dark. It was awful.” Though on the first night he’d closed the show, the running order was switched for the rest of the two-week run.

But in the charmed year of 1956, there was always a silver lining. During the Vegas run, The “Heartbreak Hotel” single and “Elvis Presley” album both reached No. 1, and “I Want You, I Need You, I Love You,” released May 4, had a huge advance order of 300,000; it later peaked at No. 3. But the biggest payoff of Presley’s Vegas appearance came when he was offstage.

When he wasn’t working, Presley took in as many shows as he could, and, while seeing Freddie Bell and The Bellboys at The Sands, was impressed by their version of “Hound Dog.” The Jerry Leiber-Mike Stoller number had been an R&B hit for Big Mama Thornton in 1953, and in 1955, Teen Records owner Bernie Lowe suggested Bell add the song to his act, having him rewrite the lyrics, as well (to lyricist Leiber’s displeasure). Presley quickly decided to add the song to his own stage act; he performed it during his second appearance on “The Milton Berle Show” on June 5 (broadcast from NBC’s L.A. studio). He pulled all stops out; instead of playing his guitar, he grabbed the mike stand and gyrated around it.

During the song’s extended coda, he jerked his hips and legs in comic exaggeration, a humor readily picked up by the laughing studio audience, and Berle (who shook Presley’s hand afterwards while enthusing “How about my boy? I love him!”), but which clearly went over the heads of American’s moral guardians, who branded Presley as “obscene.”

Such denunciations came as a shock to Presley, Fontana recalls.

“He said, ‘That’s the farthest thing from my mind is being vulgar. My mama would whip me if I were vulgar,’” Fontana remembers. “But the public thought he was vulgar, and they made fun of him.”

The controversy had an immediate impact on Presley’s upcoming appearance on “The Steve Allen Show” on July 1. There was pressure on Allen to cancel, but who could pass up such a high ratings draw? It was decided that Presley would appear, but Allen assured viewers that he “would not allow [Elvis] to do anything that will offend anyone.”

Rehearsals for the show were held June 29 in New York, and the next few days would be superbly documented by photographer Al Wertheimer, tapped by RCA to be on hand. Wertheimer accompanied Presley to his next gig on June 30 in Richmond, Va., where he snapped an iconic photo of Presley playfully touching tongues with his date backstage. For years the identity of the young woman was unknown, but earlier this year, Elvis author Alanna Nash, in an article for “Vanity Fair” online, revealed that Presley’s “date for the day” was Barbara Owens (now Barbara Gray), then 20 years old.

“I thought, ‘God, he’s beautiful,’” Owens said of the moment she first met Presley.

Then it was back to New York for “The Steve Allen Show.” Allen had Presley dressed in a white tie and tails, a satiric jab at those who touted the merits of “respectability.” The joke was clearly lost on Presley, who looked uncomfortable in his outfit, but he proved to be a good sport, throwing a doleful “Look what they’ve made me do” glance at the audience before performing “Hound Dog” to a Bassett hound wearing a top hat. But afterwards, the strain of the last few days began to show; during his appearance on “Hy Gardner Calling” that night, he looks positively exhausted.

Elvis Presley performs with The Jordanaires during an Oct. 28, 1956 appearance on "The Ed Sullivan Show."

The next day, there was a recording session of the song that was the obvious choice for the next single: “Hound Dog,” with Otis Blackwood’s “Don’t Be Cruel” as the flip side. Presley then returned to Memphis by train; remarkably, he got off one stop prior to the main stop, and walked home alone. Just hours later, he headlined a show at Russwood Park, announcing at one point, “You know, those people in New York are not gonna change me none! I’m gonna show you what the real Elvis is like tonight!” Fans stormed the stage, and in words of a local reporter, “[Elvis] rocked ’em, socked ’em, set them screaming with delight.”

Presley then had a month off, during which time “Hound Dog”/“Don’t Be Cruel,” released July 13, easily topped the charts, becoming another million seller (initially “Don’t Be Cruel” was regarded as the chart topper, with “Hound Dog” peaking at No. 2; but since the single is regarded as a double A-side, both songs are now listed by “Billboard” as being No. 1s, and both were included on the “30 #1 Hits” CD). Live performances continued on Aug. 3 in Florida, and controversy continued to plague Presley. While in Jacksonville, he was told he’d be arrested if he didn’t tone his act down, so he responded by teasingly wiggling his little finger during the show, to the screaming delight of the audience.

Mid-month, Presley was in L.A. to begin work on his first movie for 20th Century Fox. What was then titled “The Reno Brothers” began shooting on Aug. 22. Presley had hoped it would be a purely dramatic feature, but to his disappointment, he was sent into Fox’s studio on Aug. 24 and Sept. 4 to record four songs for the film, including the number that would become the film’s new title: “Love Me Tender.”

Between work on the film, more sessions were held at L.A. studio Radio Recorders from Sept. 1-3. Presley recorded 13 songs, most of which were slated for his second album. Most notable was “Old Shep,” a tearjerker about a man and his beloved dog, which Presley had sung at age 10 at the Mississippi-Alabama Fair and Dairy Show in his hometown of Tupelo, Miss., and won a prize. He also recorded another of Otis Blackwell’s songs, “Paralyzed,” and a smoky version of Leiber-Stoller’s “Love Me.”

RCA kept up a steady stream of record releases. August saw the release of “The Real Elvis” EP, as well seven singles, mostly drawn from Presley’s first album, the idea being to generate sales from people who preferred to buy singles (especially teenagers, whose small, portable record players weren’t always capable of playing albums). His next new single, “Love Me Tender,” was released on Sept. 28, soon reaching No. 1, with the flip side, “Any Way You Want Me” reaching No. 27 (the latter song was also the title of an EP released the same month).

Ed Sullivan had sworn he’d never have Presley on his program, but the ratings he pulled in were too tempting to resist, and Presley finally appeared on “The Ed Sullivan Show” Sept. 9. The show was hosted that week by Charles Laughton, as Sullivan was recuperating from a car accident, and the New York broadcast cut away to Los Angeles for Presley’s segments. His performance of “Hound Dog” was restrained; Presley only really cut loose on “Ready Teddy,” the camera cutting away from his more wild gyrations. He also debuted “Love Me Tender.”

Elvis Presley performs at the 1956 Mississippi-Alabama State Fair. Photo courtesy RCA/Legacy.

On Sept. 26, Presley returned to his hometown in triumph, performing two shows at the Mississippi-Alabama Fair; a recording of the shows, though rough, readily conveys the excitement of the performances. Presley began October with a quick recording session in L.A. for “Love Me Tender.” His next records, the album “Elvis” (another No. 1) and two EPs, “Elvis Vol. 1” and “Elvis Vol. 2,” were released Oct. 19. By the end of the month, Presley was back in New York for his second “Ed Sullivan” appearance on Oct. 28, the same day a 40-foot-tall replica of his image was unveiled on the top of the Paramount Theater’s marquee, promoting “Love Me Tender.” There was a clear element of put-on in Presley’s performance; knowing how easy it is to provoke screams from his audience, he plays with them in a manner that’s quite different from his more straight-ahead TV performances earlier in the year.

Sun Records' Sam Phillips and Johnny Cash, circa 1961 (left). Sam Phillips and Elvis Presley, Dec. 4, 1956. Photos released in conjunction with the Biography channel special "Sam Phillips: The Man Who Invented Rock and Roll." Credit: Sam Phillips/Peter Jones Productions/A&E.

The next day, there was a final bit of filming for “Love Me Tender” in New York; though Presley’s character is killed in the movie, his ghostly face was superimposed over the final scene, singing the title song, to soothe distressed fans. The film opened in New York on Nov. 15, with wide release following Nov. 21 (an EP with the film’s songs was released the same day). Reviews were mixed, with critics taking potshots at Presley’s performance. But the real problem lay in the film itself. Aside from the title track, based on the Civil War ballad “Aura Lee,” the songs sat uneasily in the film, and the storyline, which had Presley and his screen brother competing for the same woman, was a melodramatic soap opera. It was an unsatisfying film debut for such a charismatic star, and Presley’s talents would never be fully utilized in the movies.

But that disappointment lay in the future. December was a relatively quiet month for Presley. On Dec. 4, he dropped in at Sun Studios in Memphis and ended up hanging out with Carl Perkins and Jerry Lee Lewis. Producer Sam Phillips quickly put in a call to Johnny Cash, as well as a reporter and photographer, turned on his tape recorder, and the “Million Dollar Quartet” was born, producing a recording of the performers singing snatches of songs and trading stories of their newfound success. (Turn to page 62 to trace the Six Degrees of the Million Dollar Quartet.)

Presley’s final performance of the year was his last “Louisiana Hayride” show (also part of the buyout deal), a benefit for the Shreveport, La., YMCA. In the audience was Hal Kanter, who would write and direct Presley’s next film, “Loving You.” Already plans were being laid for next year’s work. But no year was destined to repeat the accomplishments of 1956.

There were certainly further triumphs to come, but Elvis Presley would never have such a hectic year again.

Looney Tunes Records is located in Boston. Photo courtesy Looney Tunes' Myspace page.

By Bruce Sylvester

BOSTON — As the saying goes, you haven’t got too many records until your floor collapses.  Mine hasn’t yet, so of course I was delighted when Looney Tunes (one of my fave Boston area used diskeries) announced a 33-1/3-off sale through the end of this month in honor of its 33-1/3 anniversary. All formats, even those that don’t spin at 33-1/3 revolutions per minute, are included in the sale.

Forgoing their ample Elvis collection, I stocked up on 1920s-40s vocalists. Ethel Waters’ coy 32-song, two-LP “Her Greatest Years” for $5.33 — good deal!

Maybe if Looney Tunes sells 33-1/3 of its stock during the anniversary sale, it’ll be easier for collectors to browse through the LP mountains (though, to be fair, In Your Ear on Commonwealth Avenue is even more jam packed).

Looney Tunes is at 1106 Boylston St. near the corner of Massachusetts Avenue (Hynes Center subway stop), not far from Fenway Park.

Why fight about what it is?…it’s all music…it’s all magical

By Phill Marder

(As promised last time, this exciting episode explores the definition of Rock & Roll)

Like me, the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame is far from perfect.

I know, I know. Hard to believe.

For starters, it should have been and still should be designated the Rock Era Hall of Fame. That way, when Abba, Madonna, Bob Marley, Miles Davis and countless others were inducted, there could be no screaming, ” They’re not Rock & Roll,” as if anyone can provide the definitive definition of Rock & Roll in the first place.

Ironically, the variety of music provided by the Hall of Fame inductees is one of the nominating committee’s crowning achievements. For while I can’t tell you what Rock & Roll is anymore than anyone else, I can tell you it’s not as limited as some of you like to believe. Rock & roll is not just two guitars, bass and drums, though that may be the trunk of the Rock tree, and the Hall of Fame recognizes that. The trunk yes, but many branches have developed as the Rock Era years have gone by.

Buried deep below the surface are the roots, Country and Blues. The branches? Everything else. So don’t tell me The Moody Blues aren’t Rock & Roll. And the Commodores aren’t Rock & Roll. And Yes isn’t Rock & Roll. And Donna Summer isn’t Rock & Roll.

As John Sebastian sang in the Lovin’ Spoonful’s “Do You Believe In Magic?,” “don’t bother to choose, it’s jugband music or rhythm & blues.” You’re right, Eric, it’s all meat from the same bone.

It’s Buddy Holly doing “Rave On,” then turning around to do “True Love Ways” or “It Doesn’t Matter Anymore.” It’s Elvis snarling “Hound Dog,” then doing “It’s Now Or Never.” It’s Fats Domino pounding out “Blue Monday,” then weaving “Walkin’ To New Orleans” in and out of the string section. It’s Ricky Nelson releasing two-sided hits that paired opposites such as “Just A Little Too Much” and “Sweeter Than You.”

Did Roy Orbison become a rock & roll star singing “Ooby Dooby” or such symphonic mini-operas such as “Running Scared,” “Crying” and “In Dreams”? Who was the real Eddie Cochran, the one who gave us “Somethin’ Else” or “Sittin’ In The Balcony”? Who was the real Gene Vincent, he of “Dance To The Bop” or “Wear My Ring”?

Were the Everly Brothers those of “Bye Bye Love” or “Devoted To You”? Was James Brown not symphonic in “Try Me” or “It’s A Man’s World.”? How about Ray Charles? Have you ever listened to the album “Ingredients In A Recipe For Soul”? Was Sam Cooke’s “You Send Me” closer to Donovan’s “Lalena” or AC/DC’s “Back In Black”? Or Bobby Darin – “Queen of the Hop” or “Mack The Knife?”

How about Jackie Wilson belting out “All My Love” or “Night”? Was Jackie Wilson not rock & roll? The Skyliners “Since I Don’t Have You” and “This I Swear,” two of the greatest ballads in the history of rock & roll…not rock & roll? For that matter, I could name almost any ballad that has become a rock & roll standard, “At Last” by Etta James, “It’s Just A Matter Of Time” by Brook Benton, for instance. Not Rock & Roll?

How about anything by rock’s greatest ’50s vocal group, The Platters. Not rock & roll?

Two different looks of Rock & Roll from two of the greatest groups, The Platters, the masters of the ballad, & The Beatles, the masters…period

Consider this album: Side 1 – 1. Till There Was You; 2. And I Love Her; 3. She’s Leaving Home; 4. Continuing Story Of Bungalow Bill; 5. Eleanor Rigby; 6. Julia; 7. Martha My Dear.

Side 2 – 1. Fool On The Hill; 2. Honey Pie; 3. When I’m 64; 4. If I Fell; 5. Yesterday; 6. You Know My Name, Look Up The Number; 7. Good Night

If that had been the only album you ever heard by the greatest band of the Rock Era, would you have called them a Rock & Roll band? And I could have turned it into a full four-disc box set.

The Beatles are a four-piece band that played rock & roll. Because they were so versatile, they could change instrumentation, style, mood, whatever you want to call it, to give us an unbelievable variety of fantastic music. Was it all rock & roll? I think yes. Was “As Tears Go By” or “Backstreet Girl” not rock & roll? They were great cuts written and recorded by what many consider the “greatest rock & roll band of all.”

Brian Wilson gave us some of the most beautiful music ever written. Was he and his group not rock & roll?

Where some bands would emphasize their “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” side and sprinkle in the occasional “As Tears Go By,” some bands go the opposite route, emphasizing the “Nights In White Satin” style while sprinkling in “I’m Just A Singer In A Rock & Roll Band” or “Question.”

And I could go on and on, which most of you would say I usually do.

I can’t pretend to know the definition of Rock & Roll. But I was there from the beginning. Actually, I must admit, before the beginning. I had a collection of 78s which I played on an old wind-the-crank phonograph, so I was into Perry Como, Jo Stafford, Hank Williams etc. before the “big bang.” Then I got a paper route – actually two – for the prime purpose of having money to purchase the latest 45s, the first three of which were “All Shook Up,” “Blue Monday” and “Mama Look At Bubu.” And I ended up delivering the bad news on the doorstep.

Still, I was the Northern kid who said, “But I will” every time the record store stocked a new yellow Sun 45.

Take my first three 45s as an example of what I’m blabbing about. “Blue Monday,” a driving rocker by Fats Domino, was backed by “What’s The Reason I’m Not Pleasing You,” which also became a hit. “What’s The Reason” was originally a hit for Guy Lombardo in 1935 and Fats’ entire catalog is sprinkled with remakes of old standards. If Fats wasn’t Rock & Roll, who was? Elvis’ “All Shook Up” also was a two-sided hit, the flip being the quiet “That’s When Your Heartaches Begin,” written in 1937 and recorded by the Ink Spots in 1941. Elvis…”The King of Rock & Roll.”

Harry Belafonte was one of the biggest superstars of the early Rock era

The third became a No. 11 record by the superstar Harry Belafonte whose genes were provided by his Jamaican mother and West Indian father. In the style of what was then known as calypso, many today would not classify it as rock & roll but the chalypso was one of early rock’s most popular dances and it fit “Mama Look At Bubu” perfectly. Belafonte also had other major hits, “Jamaica Farewell” and today’s ballpark favorite “Banana Boat,” more commonly known as “Day-O.”

Twenty years before Bob Marley and just as much a star, why isn’t Belafonte accorded the same rock & roll respect? Only because those alive at Rock’s outset, when Belafonte was cranking out hits, are few and far between today. If “Mama Look At Bubu” doesn’t fit your definition of Rock, then reggae shouldn’t either. But both, chalypso and reggae, are branches of the Rock Era tree. By the way, the flip, a soft ballad entitled “Don’t Ever Love Me,” also charted, then returned four years later as the Arthur Lyman instrumental, “Yellow Bird,” which rose all the way to No. 4.

Which brings us to the conclusion. Can I tell you what “Rock & Roll” is? No chance. The best I can come up with is “music released since 1955 that appeals to young people.” Some young people find Metallica appealing, some like Dionne Warwick. Some love Eminem, others Linda Ronstadt. Some like The Association, and some, yes, The Velvet Underground. Some love Bob Dylan acoustic, some love Bob Dylan electric.

And some, me for instance, love all of it … practically.

Having been there from the start, when the radio played Little Richard followed by Johnny Horton followed by Paul Anka followed by Jerry Lee, I was exposed to every form of what was simply known then as Rock & Roll and, fortunately for me, I kept my ears open as the years passed or else I would have missed a lot of great music no matter what name you wanted to give it.

Why listen to the Moody Blues or The Commodores and try to fit them into a category? The Moody Blues, Procol Harum and other progressive groups such as Yes, Emerson, Lake & Palmer, Pink Floyd, King Crimson, Gentle Giant, Rush…you get the picture…are simply bands expanding the boundaries of Rock as far as they are capable of doing. Groups such as The Commodores, Earth, Wind & Fire, Sly & The Family Stone and others simply follow the lead of Brown, Wilson, Cooke et al. They’re just different branches of the same tree.

Little Richard rocks…and so does Emerson, Lake & Palmer

It’s not Rock & Roll if you confine the definition to something that approaches “Keep A Knockin’,’ but it is rock & roll if your definition encompasses “Keep A Knockin’” as well as “My Special Angel,” “Dark Side Of The Moon” and “(You Gotta) Fight For Your Right (To Party).”

So applaud the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame this time. Their choices leave much room for debate – and, in case you haven’t noticed, no one has ranted more incessantly about them than yours truly – but give credit where credit is due. The Hall of Fame recognizes the great diversity making up what is known as Rock & Roll. It can be The Red Hot Chili Peppers. It can be Chaka Khan. It can be Eric B. & Rakim. It can be Heart.

Those who were there at the beginning will tell you the strict categorization came later. When it started, it all was just Rock & Roll. When the new 45 by Elvis or Connie Francis or The Drifters came out, only one question was asked…

Is it fast or slow?