Queersetti
Bastardo Suave
- Joined
- Apr 10, 2003
- Posts
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LA Times:
Frankie Laine, the singer with the booming voice who hit it big with
such songs as "That Lucky Old Sun," "Mule Train," "Cool Water," "I
Believe," "Granada" and "Moonlight Gambler," died today at Mercy
Hospital in San Diego. He was 93.
Laine entered the hospital over the weekend for hip replacement
surgery but suffered complications from the operation, said his friend
A.C. Lyles, the longtime producer at Paramount Pictures.
In all, Laine sold well over 100 million records and was hugely
popular not only in the United States but in Britain and Australia.
Even after his popularity crested after the rise of rock 'n' roll,
Laine was heard for many years singing the theme to the TV series
"Rawhide," which featured a young Clint Eastwood and ran until 1966.
Most of those who remember Laine for his biggest hits would hardly
know that his body of work included "Baby That Ain't Right," "Rosetta"
and many other songs that were more in the style of what Laine
considered his roots -- jazz and blues.
"Years before Elvis Presley, Laine brought a potent blend of blues,
jazz and country to popular music," jazz critic Don Heckman said.
"Rarely acknowledged in Laine's work, he sang with the easy, loose
phrasing and imaginative articulation of jazz performers."
Laine started out in jazz but was sidetracked by arranger Mitch
Miller, who fashioned Laine into the popular artist that he is best
remembered for being.
"When I told him I'd probably lose all my jazz fans [with these
songs], I was right. I did," Laine told David Kilby of Australian
Broadcasting Corp. "But he said I would pick up a lot of other kind of
listeners, and I did, so he was right, too."
Miller produced most of Laine's hits in the 1940s and 1950s, including
"Mule Train" and "That Lucky Old Sun." He said he loved Laine's voice
because it sounded like "the blue-collar man, the guy who didn't know
where his next paycheck was coming from."
Laine at first refused to do "Mule Train."
"You can't expect me to do a cowboy song," he told Miller. "I won't do
it!"
But Miller persuaded him to record it and it was one of Laine's
biggest hits.
Though Laine was big of voice, he said he didn't like being referred
to as a "belter."
"I was just trying to emphasize the rhythmic aspects of the songs I
sang, using my voice the way a jazz soloist uses his instrument," he
said in "That Lucky Old Son," his 1993 autobiography (written with
Joseph F. Laredo). "'Crooning' may have the more commercial style, but
it wasn't for me."
Francesco Paolo LoVecchio was born March 30, 1913, the eldest of eight
children of Sicilian immigrants who settled in the Little Italy
neighborhood in Chicago. His father was a barber whose customers
included Al Capone; his maternal grandfather was the victim of a mob
hit. Laine said he came from a "big and poor, but happy" family.
As a kid, Laine sang in the all-boy choir at church, but first became
excited about music when he listened to one of his mother's records on
a windup Victrola: Bessie Smith singing "Bleeding Hearted Blues," with
"Midnight Blues" on the flip side.
"The first time I laid the needle down on that record I felt cold
chills and an indescribable excitement," Laine would say later.
This record was his first exposure to jazz and the blues, which would
draw him into music.
At 18, with the Depression underway and his father out of work, Laine
hit the road as a dance marathoner. Altogether he participated in 14
marathons, coming in first on three occasions. He and his partner,
Ruthie Smith, made it into the Guinness Book of World Records for
dancing 145 days straight (although he disputed Guinness, saying he
and Smith danced for 146 days).
Laine said the life of a marathoner wasn't as grim as was portrayed in
the 1969 film, "They Shoot Horses, Don't They?"
"As bizarre as the whole business sounds today, it was a decent method
of keeping body and soul together during the Depression," he said. "I
gained experience, insights into human nature, and I learned how to
handle big crowds."
Besides, he said, some of the attention he got then "helped light a
spark of hope that maybe I had a shot at bigger and better things."
But Laine would not hit it big until his mid-30s. In between, he would
live the tough life of an undiscovered musician in the shank of the
Depression. He traveled from city to city, often without enough money
for a hotel or a decent meal.
Times like this, which he described in his autobiography, were not
unusual: "Armed with $40 and a letter of introduction from Hoyt
[Kline]"-a friend of Louis Armstrong's-"I headed off for my second
shot at New York. With my club experience and those new songs, I
figured I'd be singing in about a week. It took me three days to get
in to see the radio executive, and 15 minutes for him to show me the
door."
Before long he had used up "my pathetic little bankroll" going from
club to club for auditions. He would sneak into hotels and sleep on
the floor - at least until he got thrown out. Then he began sleeping
on a Central Park bench, using his last 4 cents to buy four Baby Ruth
candy bars, which he rationed to himself until he ran out of food and
money.
Then he got a break-an audition at WINS radio station, where he got a
$5-a-week job singing on a live half-hour show.
It was the program director at WINS who changed his name from Frank
LoVecchio to Frankie Lane. (Laine added the "i" to avoid confusion
with another singer with the same last name.)
Years more of moving around, working other jobs and testing his talent
brought him eventually to Los Angeles, where he hung out at clubs like
Slapsy Maxie's and Billy Berg's. It was at Billy Berg's that he met
Duke Ellington, Art Tatum and many other legends. And it was there
that he would occasionally get to sing for free before eventually
being hired.
Even this did not provide an unbroken ladder to success, but
eventually Laine did get a chance to record a few songs for Mercury
Records. He decided he wanted to do an old song he'd heard years ago,
"That's My Desire," but he couldn't remember it well enough to sing it
the way it was written, so he improvised.
"Desire" was the song that proved the breakthrough for Laine, although
it took almost a year. First it hit the so-called "Harlem" pop charts
- which recorded sales to black record buyers.
"That didn't surprise me," Laine said. "In my leaner days I failed
many an audition because, I was told, I sounded 'too black.' I'm
certain the confusion was the direct result of the music that
influenced me while I was developing my style. I guess I became the
first of the so-called blue-eyed soul singers."
During 1947, "Desire" got more and more airplay, even in Europe. By
fall, Laine got his first royalty payment for the song: $36,000. He
was 34.
After rock 'n' roll hit big, Laine was considered old hat. He remained
popular in Europe and Australia, and he caught a second wind recording
the theme songs for "Rawhide"; Mel Brooks' movie "Blazing Saddles,"
and many commercials, including one for Campbell Soup's Manhandlers
soups ("How do ya handle a hungry man? Manhandlers!").
He also kept performing, traveling widely with his wife, actress Nan
Grey. After her death in 1993, he stayed closer to his home in San
Diego, where the couple had lived since 1968. He remarried in 1999 to
Marcia Ann Kline.
In "Off the Record," a book of interviews of popular music icons,
Laine told author Joe Smith, the former chief executive of Warner
Bros., Elektra and Capitol Records, that if he could change anything
about his success, it would be to "make it happen maybe 10 years
sooner."
"Ten years is a good stretch of scuffling," Laine said. "But I
scuffled for 17 years before it happened, and 17 is a bit much."
Laine is survived by his wife, Marcia, and two stepdaughters, Pam and
Jan from his marriage to Grey and two grandchildren.
Services are pending.
LA Times:
Frankie Laine, the singer with the booming voice who hit it big with
such songs as "That Lucky Old Sun," "Mule Train," "Cool Water," "I
Believe," "Granada" and "Moonlight Gambler," died today at Mercy
Hospital in San Diego. He was 93.
Laine entered the hospital over the weekend for hip replacement
surgery but suffered complications from the operation, said his friend
A.C. Lyles, the longtime producer at Paramount Pictures.
In all, Laine sold well over 100 million records and was hugely
popular not only in the United States but in Britain and Australia.
Even after his popularity crested after the rise of rock 'n' roll,
Laine was heard for many years singing the theme to the TV series
"Rawhide," which featured a young Clint Eastwood and ran until 1966.
Most of those who remember Laine for his biggest hits would hardly
know that his body of work included "Baby That Ain't Right," "Rosetta"
and many other songs that were more in the style of what Laine
considered his roots -- jazz and blues.
"Years before Elvis Presley, Laine brought a potent blend of blues,
jazz and country to popular music," jazz critic Don Heckman said.
"Rarely acknowledged in Laine's work, he sang with the easy, loose
phrasing and imaginative articulation of jazz performers."
Laine started out in jazz but was sidetracked by arranger Mitch
Miller, who fashioned Laine into the popular artist that he is best
remembered for being.
"When I told him I'd probably lose all my jazz fans [with these
songs], I was right. I did," Laine told David Kilby of Australian
Broadcasting Corp. "But he said I would pick up a lot of other kind of
listeners, and I did, so he was right, too."
Miller produced most of Laine's hits in the 1940s and 1950s, including
"Mule Train" and "That Lucky Old Sun." He said he loved Laine's voice
because it sounded like "the blue-collar man, the guy who didn't know
where his next paycheck was coming from."
Laine at first refused to do "Mule Train."
"You can't expect me to do a cowboy song," he told Miller. "I won't do
it!"
But Miller persuaded him to record it and it was one of Laine's
biggest hits.
Though Laine was big of voice, he said he didn't like being referred
to as a "belter."
"I was just trying to emphasize the rhythmic aspects of the songs I
sang, using my voice the way a jazz soloist uses his instrument," he
said in "That Lucky Old Son," his 1993 autobiography (written with
Joseph F. Laredo). "'Crooning' may have the more commercial style, but
it wasn't for me."
Francesco Paolo LoVecchio was born March 30, 1913, the eldest of eight
children of Sicilian immigrants who settled in the Little Italy
neighborhood in Chicago. His father was a barber whose customers
included Al Capone; his maternal grandfather was the victim of a mob
hit. Laine said he came from a "big and poor, but happy" family.
As a kid, Laine sang in the all-boy choir at church, but first became
excited about music when he listened to one of his mother's records on
a windup Victrola: Bessie Smith singing "Bleeding Hearted Blues," with
"Midnight Blues" on the flip side.
"The first time I laid the needle down on that record I felt cold
chills and an indescribable excitement," Laine would say later.
This record was his first exposure to jazz and the blues, which would
draw him into music.
At 18, with the Depression underway and his father out of work, Laine
hit the road as a dance marathoner. Altogether he participated in 14
marathons, coming in first on three occasions. He and his partner,
Ruthie Smith, made it into the Guinness Book of World Records for
dancing 145 days straight (although he disputed Guinness, saying he
and Smith danced for 146 days).
Laine said the life of a marathoner wasn't as grim as was portrayed in
the 1969 film, "They Shoot Horses, Don't They?"
"As bizarre as the whole business sounds today, it was a decent method
of keeping body and soul together during the Depression," he said. "I
gained experience, insights into human nature, and I learned how to
handle big crowds."
Besides, he said, some of the attention he got then "helped light a
spark of hope that maybe I had a shot at bigger and better things."
But Laine would not hit it big until his mid-30s. In between, he would
live the tough life of an undiscovered musician in the shank of the
Depression. He traveled from city to city, often without enough money
for a hotel or a decent meal.
Times like this, which he described in his autobiography, were not
unusual: "Armed with $40 and a letter of introduction from Hoyt
[Kline]"-a friend of Louis Armstrong's-"I headed off for my second
shot at New York. With my club experience and those new songs, I
figured I'd be singing in about a week. It took me three days to get
in to see the radio executive, and 15 minutes for him to show me the
door."
Before long he had used up "my pathetic little bankroll" going from
club to club for auditions. He would sneak into hotels and sleep on
the floor - at least until he got thrown out. Then he began sleeping
on a Central Park bench, using his last 4 cents to buy four Baby Ruth
candy bars, which he rationed to himself until he ran out of food and
money.
Then he got a break-an audition at WINS radio station, where he got a
$5-a-week job singing on a live half-hour show.
It was the program director at WINS who changed his name from Frank
LoVecchio to Frankie Lane. (Laine added the "i" to avoid confusion
with another singer with the same last name.)
Years more of moving around, working other jobs and testing his talent
brought him eventually to Los Angeles, where he hung out at clubs like
Slapsy Maxie's and Billy Berg's. It was at Billy Berg's that he met
Duke Ellington, Art Tatum and many other legends. And it was there
that he would occasionally get to sing for free before eventually
being hired.
Even this did not provide an unbroken ladder to success, but
eventually Laine did get a chance to record a few songs for Mercury
Records. He decided he wanted to do an old song he'd heard years ago,
"That's My Desire," but he couldn't remember it well enough to sing it
the way it was written, so he improvised.
"Desire" was the song that proved the breakthrough for Laine, although
it took almost a year. First it hit the so-called "Harlem" pop charts
- which recorded sales to black record buyers.
"That didn't surprise me," Laine said. "In my leaner days I failed
many an audition because, I was told, I sounded 'too black.' I'm
certain the confusion was the direct result of the music that
influenced me while I was developing my style. I guess I became the
first of the so-called blue-eyed soul singers."
During 1947, "Desire" got more and more airplay, even in Europe. By
fall, Laine got his first royalty payment for the song: $36,000. He
was 34.
After rock 'n' roll hit big, Laine was considered old hat. He remained
popular in Europe and Australia, and he caught a second wind recording
the theme songs for "Rawhide"; Mel Brooks' movie "Blazing Saddles,"
and many commercials, including one for Campbell Soup's Manhandlers
soups ("How do ya handle a hungry man? Manhandlers!").
He also kept performing, traveling widely with his wife, actress Nan
Grey. After her death in 1993, he stayed closer to his home in San
Diego, where the couple had lived since 1968. He remarried in 1999 to
Marcia Ann Kline.
In "Off the Record," a book of interviews of popular music icons,
Laine told author Joe Smith, the former chief executive of Warner
Bros., Elektra and Capitol Records, that if he could change anything
about his success, it would be to "make it happen maybe 10 years
sooner."
"Ten years is a good stretch of scuffling," Laine said. "But I
scuffled for 17 years before it happened, and 17 is a bit much."
Laine is survived by his wife, Marcia, and two stepdaughters, Pam and
Jan from his marriage to Grey and two grandchildren.
Services are pending.
