That's it. The last of the great showbiz legends has passed. Today it was announced that Al Martino, long time Philly born crooner who popularized such hits as "Spanish Eyes" and "Volare" has passed away. As popular as either of those songs was it was Martino's turn as Johnny Fontane in the Godfather trilogy that cemented his place in the pop lexicon.
You might ask yourself, what significance this has for me personally. On the eve of the Millennium celebration (that being late December 1999) I had the honor of playing in a big band in support of Mr. Martino. On a cruise ship that sailed the Caribbean for Christmas and the infamous Y2K New Year, I shared a few dinners, and some unforgettable experiences with the legend and his wife. One of these experiences, the kind that money simply can't buy, was an evening screening on board the ship of The Godfather Part 1. Anyone who knows me will attest to my absolute love for this movie. A picture that stands alone in its triumphant ability to humanize the perils of mob life, and tell a moving tale of a complex family.
Taking my place beside the Martino's in the theatre, the extended opening scene of Connie's wedding begins to play. Suddenly Johnny Fontane appears on screen to the delight of the female guests in attendance, making his way to the stage. A serenade for the lovely bride, followed by a request to his Godfather to help make a movie role he's having problems landing come to fruition. We hear the famous "Make him an offer he can't refuse", and a horse's head.
All the while, playing each scene out in my head for memory, The Matino's regale me with fun facts and interesting trivia about the movie.
"That house there belonged to one of the producers of the movie"... "That's a real horse's head in that bed. It wasn't actually illegal to do that kind of thing back in those days, but it is now".
Amazing.
More intriguing though are the stories I hear from Martino's band leader as the week progresses. The idea that Martino was asked not to take the role by Sinatra's people (upset at the movies’ portrayal of the Johnny Fontane character as a patsy entertainer owned by the mob, believed to have been fashioned after Sinatra himself). Or the repercussions of taking the role, which included Martino's near 20 year absence from playing in Vegas. What's that about his file with the FBI? (A little less than forthcoming with these details). Whether these, or the countless other stories I'm told are true is irrelevant. To be furnished with such tales in the presence of a legendary entertainer is at least worthy of a posthumous retelling, an homage to my fond remembrance of the short time I got to share with him.
Playing in a band, supporting Mr Martino on stage however was something else entirely (a performance experience that still rings as one of my proudest moments to this day). The man's voice was still in fine shape, capable of capturing the audience and bringing them back to their youth (many of them happy to have enjoyed Martino while he was in his prime).
So, a simple tribute to the man. The last of the great entertainers.
You might ask yourself, what significance this has for me personally. On the eve of the Millennium celebration (that being late December 1999) I had the honor of playing in a big band in support of Mr. Martino. On a cruise ship that sailed the Caribbean for Christmas and the infamous Y2K New Year, I shared a few dinners, and some unforgettable experiences with the legend and his wife. One of these experiences, the kind that money simply can't buy, was an evening screening on board the ship of The Godfather Part 1. Anyone who knows me will attest to my absolute love for this movie. A picture that stands alone in its triumphant ability to humanize the perils of mob life, and tell a moving tale of a complex family.
Taking my place beside the Martino's in the theatre, the extended opening scene of Connie's wedding begins to play. Suddenly Johnny Fontane appears on screen to the delight of the female guests in attendance, making his way to the stage. A serenade for the lovely bride, followed by a request to his Godfather to help make a movie role he's having problems landing come to fruition. We hear the famous "Make him an offer he can't refuse", and a horse's head.
All the while, playing each scene out in my head for memory, The Matino's regale me with fun facts and interesting trivia about the movie.
"That house there belonged to one of the producers of the movie"... "That's a real horse's head in that bed. It wasn't actually illegal to do that kind of thing back in those days, but it is now".
Amazing.
More intriguing though are the stories I hear from Martino's band leader as the week progresses. The idea that Martino was asked not to take the role by Sinatra's people (upset at the movies’ portrayal of the Johnny Fontane character as a patsy entertainer owned by the mob, believed to have been fashioned after Sinatra himself). Or the repercussions of taking the role, which included Martino's near 20 year absence from playing in Vegas. What's that about his file with the FBI? (A little less than forthcoming with these details). Whether these, or the countless other stories I'm told are true is irrelevant. To be furnished with such tales in the presence of a legendary entertainer is at least worthy of a posthumous retelling, an homage to my fond remembrance of the short time I got to share with him.
Playing in a band, supporting Mr Martino on stage however was something else entirely (a performance experience that still rings as one of my proudest moments to this day). The man's voice was still in fine shape, capable of capturing the audience and bringing them back to their youth (many of them happy to have enjoyed Martino while he was in his prime).
So, a simple tribute to the man. The last of the great entertainers.
