Doo Wop Shi Bop & Rama Lama Ding Dong

The Old Man is a "doo wop-er" from way back. I got an early start.

In spite of what you see here, I cannot sing or play a note on anything. I've tried guitar, trumpet, and even a kazoo; all to no avail. I have managed a decent showing on the drums, but that's another story. My point here, is that in spite of the lack of enough talent to carry a tune in a tote sack, my love for music is pretty intense.

Of all the genres of the musical spectrum, my absolute favorite is that one known as Doo Wop. Rooted in Delta blues, refined through the 1940's, polished and matured in the 1950's, it defines teenage love and angst for my generation. Long are the summer nights when I would lay in my bed, struggling to catch a breeze through the open window, listening to radio stations from all over the country play the music that drilled straight from my ears to my heart. Disc jockeys from Nashville, Pittsburgh, Buffalo, and Chicago wavered in and out as their broadcast signals bounced around through the atmosphere, playing those great anthems to those of us who were just beginning our journey down the hormone highway.

Matter of fact, it was one of these tunes that, I believe, gave the genre its name. The year was 1956, and in the basement of a New Haven, Connecticut church, a group called The Five Satins recorded "In The Still of The Night" and in the background you can clearly hear, "Doo-wop-shu-waa". To this day, that song transports me back to that wonderfully happy and innocent time. There are countless others as well. If you can find it, listen to the Safaris sing "Image of A Girl". That one captures teen angst over not having a girlfriend better than most any you can imagine. I could go on forever.......we must have a trivia contest sometime.

Through the years, I've been so very blessed to have opportunities to get "up close and personal" with a few notables. I've had dinner with Dianna Ross and the Supremes, The Shirelles, and The Crystals. I've listened to Dion openly discuss the heroin battles of his youth when he sang with the group, Dion & The Belmonts. I've passed a jug back and forth with Sam Cooke, and I've driven Neil Sedaka around Roanoke. (That one took about 30 minutes.) Bobby Vinton sat with me during my all night radio broadcast and we had wondrous conversations. Miss Martha and I have been socially involved with Freddie Cannon. All of this, written at the risk of seeming "braggy", to simply amplify how my life has been a magnificent journey of involvement. The music of my youth takes on even more meaning as I remember the good fortune of being able to meet and interact with those artists who played such a part in my early years.

There have been other encounters; I saw the Everly Brothers for the princely sum of $4.00 admission, I saw Elvis for a much "princelier" sum, and I watched Chuck Berry duck-walk across the stage while pounding out "Johnny B. Goode".

My personal "celebrity scorecard" would be incomplete without tribute to some non-musical heavyweights. I've shaken hands with Bob Hope, gotten an autograph from Alan Shephard, and humbly shaken hands with General Jimmy Doolittle.

But far and away, beyond all others, is a man I met many years ago in a little church in Bedford. His name is Jesus Christ.