Bobby Darin autobiography ‘compelling’
Brash Bobby Darin is finger-poppin’ cool again – or at least that’s the ongoing marketing plan.
Actor Kevin Spacey’s heartfelt “Beyond the Sea” biopic is intended to make the biggest splish-splash since Darin’s same-named 1958 single made him an unlikely and uncomfortable teen idol.
There also are new DVD and CD tributes to Darin’s work. And you can read all about the former Walden Robert Cassotto in “Roman Candle,” an authorized biography lauded by none other than Spacey as “compelling and revealing. … A pleasure to read.”
The book more or less merits that blurb. Author David Evanier duly explores the less than saintly makeup of an emotionally off-center entertainer who was both driven and haunted by expectations of an early death.
Evanier also clearly wants readers to join him in recelebrating the artistry of a singer-actor-impressionist-brooder who lived dangerously and died of heart failure at age 37 in December 1973.
In this respect, Evanier is too much a cheerleader at times, describing Darin as “so frighteningly good he seemed to come from outer space. He was the last American performer to wear a tuxedo onstage and get away with it.”
Not really. Dean Martin, Tom Jones and many others made steady livings in formalwear for years after Darin’s death.
“Roman Candle” relies heavily on the remembrances of Darin’s former manager, Steve Blauner, and his ever-faithful publicist, Harriet “Hesh” Wasser, both of whom still carry torches for their one-time meal ticket.
But the author also has fresh interviews with many other old intimates, including Dick Clark, Paul Anka, Carol Lynley, Frankie Avalon, Tony Orlando and Darin’s less than sympathetic brother, Gary Walden.
One contemporary who’s still not talking is 1960s teen queen Sandra Dee, who astonishingly was just 16 years old when she wed Darin after they met on the set of the romantic comedy “Come September.” They lasted seven years and had a son, Dodd.
Darin always saw it as his ultimate conquest, a beauty-and-the-beast production co-starring a self-loathing man-child whose birthday card to a longtime friend was inscribed: “To the greatest from the ugliest.”
Onstage he was something else, though, with a latter-day repertoire that ranged from the swingin’ “Mack the Knife” to the snuggly “If I Were a Carpenter.”
Darin’s all-out performances aroused him to the point where he wore condoms as a safety measure, Evanier writes. He also had a long-standing rivalry with Frank Sinatra, who once sniffed: “I sing in saloons. Bobby does my prom dates.”
He’s long since graduated, baby.