Happy Birthday Dadoo!

Today is the 105th anniversary of my father’s birth.

My father, who I called "Dadoo", was originally from Kennebunkport, Maine, where he grew up in his parents' hotel. He was a mild-mannered man, and many people said he reminded them of Jimmy Stewart’s film persona (minus the stutter), and later, also to McLean Stevenson’s portrayal of Henry Blake in the TV series, M*A*S*H*.

In typical New England WASP (White Anglo-Saxon Protestant) fashion, he attended Dartmouth College, in New Hampshire, and then went onto Brown University’s school of Business, he was a "Preppy" before the phrase was coined. 

During his Dartmouth years, he and my mother fell in love one summer. My mother’s family, originally from Corsica, then living in Québec City, Canada, vacationed every year at my grandparent’s hotel in Kennebunkport. My parents knew each other since they were nine and ten years old. In their late teens, I guess hormones kicked in.

My father served in the Second World War, was wounded in the battle of Iwo Jima, and received the Silver Star medal for gallantry in action.  Upon returning home, he and my mother, moved to New York City, where he worked as an economist, and my mother worked as a chef.  A few years later, they opened their first restaurant in Brooklyn. They would go on to have four restaurants, and a Gay club (this, in the early 60s).

As you may have surmised, my father was a liberal, he also knew the ancient handshakes and the secrets of two fraternal organizations (The Free Masons and The Shriners, to be specific). In his later years, I asked him about the gay club, he told me "They need a place to eat, drink and meet too". He also told me he thought he might have been the first non-organized crime member and non-gay person to own a gay club in New York City. He then explained, back then, politicians, the Cosa Nostra, law enforcement and just "regular Joes" who were Free Masons and Shriners were in cahoots, and had each other’s back. When he told his fellow Shriner, who was also the local Cosa Nostra Capo (and father of Denise "The Grease") of his plan for a gay bar, he had his blessing as long as he used certain businesses for alcohol purchases and linen services. This also freed him from police raids, which were commonplace back then.



As an aside, my brother joined the Free Masons and later The Shriners at our father's behest. He once told me: "I joined the hoping there would be some evil conspiracy to help with, because I like evil conspiracies. Much to my dismay, there was not a drop of goat's blood, and I didn't even give my soul away. All I did was pay dues, so they could help sick and crippled children for free. Where the hell is the world domination!?!?!?".

He was joking. I think.

But this is a music blog...

My older brother was a teenager in the late 1950s, and had a modest record collection of rock 'n' roll records by Chuck Berry, Buddy Holly, Eddie Cochran, Bo Diddley and Gene Vincent. In my brother’s room was a small record player which did the job, but in our living room was a large wooden late 50s state-of-the-art console, that little Babs was not allowed to touch. The console had amplifier-powered stereo speakers, with a turntable and radio hidden under a lid in the center, on the bottom were two doors that when opened revealed a TV set, and it played records very loud.

One wintry Sunday afternoon, my brother and I decided we’d go downstairs to play records in the living room. As we went down the stairs, I smelt cigar smoke and heard Tony Bennett singing. When we got to the living room, my father was relaxing in his recliner, with a cigar in one hand, and a Jack Daniel's on the rocks in the other. My brother asked my father if we could play some records, my father told him to play them in his room, and my brother abruptly marched off in a huff. As another song started to play, my father asked me, "May I have the pleasure of this dance, Babs?" which was something we did all the time; my father would get on his knees, we’d dance, he’d spin me around, and we’d laugh. When the record ended, my father put on another record, which had no lyrics, was very fast, had guitar and violin, which made me smile and giggle. My father laughed, and told me, "The man playing guitar was a Gypsy, who lived in a horse-drawn caravan in France, and only had two fingers on his left hand that he could use." all of which sounded very exotic to my eleven or twelve-year-old brain (years later it occurred to me, that was Django).

He then played a Frank Sinatra record, that I knew the words to, and we both sang along with Frank. My father was a fan of "The Rat Pack" who epitomized the post-war successes and excesses of post World War Two America, that he and my mother enjoyed.

For Christmas of 1975, I gave my father 'The Tony Bennett/Bill Evans Album'.  He told me it took him a few listenings before it clicked, as he was used to Tony Bennett in either a small group or big band setting.  In 1977, I gifted him 'Together Again', the second Tony Bennett/Bill Evans collaboration.  I remember him telling me, "That Bill Evans can sure tickle the old ivories."

"Dadoo" lived to be 95.

Today's freeloads are:

The Complete Tony Bennett/Bill Evans Recordings is a 2CD set released in 2009 compiling the two recording sessions by Tony Bennett and Bill Evans which produced 'The Tony Bennett/Bill Evans' and 'Together Again'.  It also has twenty alternate takes and two bonus tracks not released on the original albums.

The title says it all

This is the only Sinatra album I own or really want, as I'm not a big fan.

For the freeloads, tell us about an album that was gifted to you, that was by an artist or group you were unfamiliar with, and after listening to the album you became a fan of.