Gaetano Crochetti-Dino's Dad NBC Tour

It was the spring of 1967 and we had just finished the Sunday mid morning rehearsal for the Dean Martin Show. Greg Garrison asked me if I could walk Dino's dad, Gaetano, around the building and show him the different studio's. 

I introduced myself to Guy, he was decked out in a black tux, butterfly black bow tie, Dean's double but about 30 years older. I learned some Italian from my folks when I was younger, made him laugh when I told him I sounded like a "Gidrul." We spent an hour peeking in and out of rehearsal halls and studio's. We walked back to Dean's dressing room, two proud Italians, one from the old country and the other on top of the world. Gaetano Crochetti passed away later that year.

Mike Colonna Blogspot Open Intro

Dean Martin commercial for phones at the Airport: "Have You Ever Flown o...

Don Cherry talks about Dino

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Mike Colonna Blogcast Dean's Girls

Dino Imperonators

Dino's Girls

Dean Martin's favorite gals!

"The Boss Speaks!"

We hear Greg Garrison's voice from the control booth, after a commercial break, stage manager Bob Graner takes his cue, "action." Dean's standing at the library door, Ken Lane's sitting behind the piano, "the grand entrance,"

Dean hops on the piano, Les Brown's music fades, Kenny begins to play, Dino sings, "I didn't know what time it was, I drank my watch!" Lot's of fun back in the mid 60's working as an NBC Page in "beautiful downtown Burbank!"

The "Crooner"

Working on the "Dean Martin Show" for two seasons could be summed up in five words, "YOU HAD TO BE THERE !"

From my bedroom trying to "croon" like Dino back in my high school days (I wore my "Pretty Baby" album out!) then standing next to Dean 10 years later, a dream came true for this kid from Chicago. I know my mom was listening with a smile on her face. Fast forward a decade later. I got her and my dad front row seats to "The Dean Martin Show." Dean "winked" at them, I'll never forget the proud look on their faces that Sunday afternoon. They were two proud Italians!

"Contender"

"I coulda been a contender!" Greg Garrison Producer/Director of the Dean Martin Show stood out as an intimidating figure. Never get in his way!

One Sunday rehearsal Dean was in his dressing room taking care of business. Les Brown needed a sound check for "Welcome to My World," Garrison needed someone to block the shot and sing a few bars, I knew I could do Dino's voice and sing the lyrics, Greg Garrison paused five seconds looked around the room, I caught his eye, almost raised my hand, thinking I could do this! Not so fast Mike, remember you're a Page, you're at the bottom of the food chain, and just for a "second," I pictured myself in Dean's chair singing his big hit. Just then producer/writer Lee Hale took the stage, my "second" came and went!!! My big chance for "stardom?" was history. DeanMartinBlog.com (No Ads)

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The Control Room on the Dean Martin Show

We hear Greg Garrison's voice from the control booth, after a commercial break, stage manager Bob Graner takes his cue, "action." Dean's standing at the library door, Ken Lane's sitting behind the piano, "the grand entrance," Dean hops on the piano, Les Brown's music fades, Kenny begins to play, Dino sings, "I didn't know what time it was, I drank my watch!" Lot's of fun back in the mid 60's working as an NBC Page in "beautiful downtown Burbank!"

Everything Dean Martin

Working on the "Dean Martin Show"  for two seasons could be summed up in five words, "YOU HAD TO BE THERE !" From my bedroom trying to "croon" like Dino back in my high school days (I wore my "Pretty Baby" album out!)  then standing next to Dean 10 years later, a dream came true for this kid from Chicago.   I know my mom  was listening with a smile on her face. Fast forward a decade later. I got her and my dad front row seats to "The Dean Martin Show."  Dean "winked" at them,  I'll never forget the look on their faces that Sunday afternoon. They were two proud Italians!

Mike Colonna Blog "Dino Tribute"

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To All My "Golf Pallies!"

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Greg Garrison interview.... Dean Martin

Lee Hale Interview Dean Martin Music Director 2011

Dean Martin Blogcast

Dean Martin Lived Here.

I want one of these!!!!!

Dino's Lodge

Vintage Los Angeles: What Ever Happened to Dino’s Lounge? In the summer of 1958, Dean Martin and his business partner, Maury Samuels, opened a restaurant on Sunset Boulevard. Here’s what happened after that By Alison Martino -November 15, 2013 

Patrons at Dino’s Lodge Back in High School my pal Johnny Gillette ventured up to Hollwyood to visit "hot spots" we had heard and read about, Dino's Lodge was at the top of our list! Take a look at the prices on this original Dino’s Lodge Menu. The quote at the bottom sums it all up. I’ve have been lucky enough to track down these very rare collectibles through the years. Now all I have to do is dump some Dino’s Lodge soil into one of those ashtrays…

The razed site of Dino’s Lodge Remember the L.A.-based private eye series 77 Sunset Strip? The 1950s show was filmed entirely on the Warner Brothers lot, but the opening 30-second sequence was filmed in front of Dino’s Lodge, located at 8524 Sunset Boulevard. In the summer of 1958, Dean Martin and his business partner, Maury Samuels, bought a former restaurant called The Alpine Lodge. They hired Dean’s brother, Bill, to manage the place, and immediately renamed it Dino’s Lodge. Out front they placed an enormous neon sign featuring Dean Martin’s handsome face and it became one of Hollywood’s campiest novelties. The “suit and tie” jazz joint was instantly hip, serving home-style Italian cuisine, steaks, and breakfast until 4 a.m. 

The interior included dark wood paneling and comfortable leather booths meant to replicate Martin’s personal den. Continuous entertainment was provided in a separate cocktail lounge that promoted female singers—perhaps ole Dino didn’t want any male competition—but by 1960, he had flown the coop for the Sands in Las Vegas and sold the restaurant to new owners who kept the name and neon sign for 27 additional years. Visitors flocked to the restaurant in hopes of getting a glimpse of Dino, but his neon face is as close as they got. By the early ’70s, the swanky restaurant that had once hosted parties for Frank Sinatra and Elizabeth Taylor descended into a tourist trap and was abandoned by its celebrity clientele. During the Miami Vice era, the block on which the restaurant sat suffered a devastating makeover. 

What was left of Dino’s Lodge, the Tiffany Theatre, North Beach Leather, and the 1960s dance club the Sea Witch were all stuccoed over, leaving them unrecognizable, then replaced with bland looking offices. A 77 SUNSET STRIP dedication was later engraved on the sidewalk in front of the original entrance to Dino’s. This September, the entire block was demolished to make way for a massive development. I’m not sure if the plaque will survive, but the new parking attendants should carry a comb in their back pocket in honor of Ed “Kookie” Byrnes. All photographs courtesy Alison Martino Collection

Dino Show Credits

Joey Heatherton 101 Dean Martin and Joey Heatherton Medley

Dino Knocks off The Beatles!

Dean Martin- "I'm gonna knock your pallies off the charts!" Ricci Martin, Dean's son, back in 1964 was a Beatles freak. As were we all. As a Long Beach State Sigma Chi, Beatles records kept us dancing at every Sig Party. That August, Dino, who hadn't had a hit record in years, "kicked" the Beatles out of Billboards #1 spot with "Everybody Loves Somebody." Fast forward, in 1980 my "pallies" and I traveled to the Monaco Grand Prix. The late Whitey Littlefield, (Sinatra's Budweiser go to guy), Johnny 'Smooth" Morris, (owner of Legends and now The Boathouse Restaurant in Long Beach) Bruce Hershey and I were invited to spend the afternoon with George Harrison and Ringo Starr. Dean's name never came up, but there we were, with two of the Beatles "that played second fiddle" to "The King of Cool!" We BS'd all afternoon. You would have loved being a fly on the wall. Ringo did not want pictures taken but Hershey snuck out and took one anyway. You can see his image on the yacht door. Guess you can say "Memories Were Made Of This!"

The Dean Martin Show - First episode

Dean Martin Show Intro (1)

A Short Tour of NBC Burbank "This Could Be the Start of Something Big"

The Golddiggers.

It was 1968, Greg Garrison, Producer/Director of the Dean Martin Show, came up with a "wild idea." "Let's get a small chorus line of singers and dancers to showcase all of Dean's talents." A small ad in Daily Variety that read, along the lines, "Looking for talented female singers and dancers to audition for the "The Dean Martin Show." Not exactly word for word, the tryout day was posted. On my drive to the studio from Belmont Shore, Long Beach, my usual 35 minute drive on three different freeways doing 80 in my VW Bug, I arrive at NBC. Low and behold, wrapped around the entire block were females of all ages. Dancers, Singers, you name it. Ready for their "Auditions" with the producers of  The Dean Martin Show. Months later, viewers were treated to the birth of the "Golddiggers!" DeanMartinBlog.comMike Colonna

Stan Zieve

Stan Zieve, what can I say, he hired me as an NBC Messenger, back in the day. I smashed up one of his prize motorbikes, the first day, in the back lot after I "fibbed" telling him I knew how to ride a motorcycle. He kept me on got me a job as an NBC Page. I spent 7 great years in Guest Relations and NBC News. Prayers are in order. RIP

The "Schnoz"

Afternoon's were crazy around NBC Studio's in Burbank during the late 60's. One day Perry Como's strolling down the hall. James Garner walks through the Artist Entrace looking for his dressing room on the Carson Show, Jack Benny, Bob Hope, Roger Miller and all of the "Zany" Laugh In stars politely wave as they search for their dressing rooms. Never a dull moment. One afternoon I was leading a tour past the Carson and Let's Make a Deal studios, we stopped midway and opened up one of the rehearsal halls on our left, sitting alone behind a piano in the back of the room, was the one and only Jimmy Dirante. He waved to the group, they were thrilled. Legendary moments as an NBC Page in Burbank. "S

chnoz"

Swingin Country

Thinking about my old NBC Burbank Page days. One of the first shows we worked on..."Swingin Country." Molly Bee, Rusty Draper, Roy Clark. Late 60's!

Raquel

She was beautiful. Before the Carson Show, standing next to her when I was an NBC Page, I knew she was someone special. Original Airdate: 06/19/1968 Johnny Carson

"You Don't Say

Back in late 60's my NBC Page pal Bob Gould, Jim Overman and I worked on this "fab show!" We loved being a part of it.

Elke Sommer

First day on the job as an NBC Page in "Beautiful Downtown Burbank" behind the Artist Entrance Counter, this beautiful actress with no make up, a scarf wrapped around her head, asked me where her dressing room was for the Carson Show. Elke Sommer

I Gotta Be Me....Sammy

"I gotta be me..."  It was a Thursday night. Sammy Davis Jr. walked through the "Artist Entrance" looking for Dean.   The Artist Entry  lot was private parking for NBC star's and guests..  All the big stars from the "Golden Age of Television," Dino, Hope, Benny, Berle  passed through the AE's hallowed doors on their way to their dressing rooms.  It's early evening and Sammy walks in, top hat, tan suit, cane, dapper as ever.  I'm  behind the Artist Entrance desk. He checks out my name tag, "Hey Mike, how do I get to Dean's dressing room?" I figured we were on a first name basis,  I said, 'Sammy, Dean tapes on Sunday's. His show's on national TV later tonight, he's not here. " He was embarrassed,  "I knew that." He gave me a big smile, spun around, and walked out through the AE doors. I'll never forget, "The Candy Man."

NBC Page Stuff

Standing next to Dino was quite a feat. My dad always said, "act like you own the place." That I did. Instead of ushering audiences outside of NBC I tried my best to get "close and personal" w/as many "big stars" as possible during my days as an NBC Page. Sneaky, you bet! BS'ing with the 2000 year old man Mel Brooks, and Carl Reiner during a break in rehearsal for the Colgate Comedy Hour, but my biggest claim to fame was working my way next to my childhood idol, the "King of Cool," for two seasons. Lot's of stories to tell. DeanMartinBlog.com

Bob Hope Comedy Specials

In the late 60's, Bob Hope was rehearsing for a Chrysler Comedy Special, during a break I strolled past a group of at least a dozen comedians. They were laughing their "tushes" off. Don Adams, Jonathan Winters, Dom Deluise, Flip Wilson, George Gobel, Sid Caesar, Red Buttons, Jack Carter, Shelley Berman, Buddy Hackett, Nipsey Russell, Shecky Greene, Jack E. Leonard, and this little guy they had surrounded was picking off each one of them with hilarious insults. It was another legendary moment during my NBC Page days. DeanMartinBlog.com See less

Dean Martin Specials

EXCLUSIVE: Move over, Steve McQueen, there is a new “king of cool” in town. You might recall the excellent 1998 documentary titled Steve McQueen: The King of Cool. Well, now a similar name has been awarded to none other than Dean Martin, the subject of a comprehensive and compelling new docu premiering November 19 on Turner Classic Movies, preceded by its world premiere November 14 as part of the program for DOC NYC at the SVA Theatre in New York City. “Cool” defines Martin in every sense of the word.

TCM will not only be hosting the broadcast premiere of Dean Martin: King of Cool but also a film retrospective as a companion to this long-in-the-works look at the talent and mystery of the legendary entertainer, who died at age 78 on Christmas Day 1995 but has never really gone away thanks to an iconic career that covered uncanny success in movies, TV, music, nightclubs and just about anything he touched. Although through archival and previously unseen footage and rare performance clips, King of Cool exhaustively covers every aspect of his personal and professional life since being born Dino Paul Crocetti in Steubenville, Ohio on June 7, 1917, the big takeaway is that even those closest to him including his family never really knew him. It is a fascinating premise on which to hang a nearly two-hour examination of the life of this beloved entertainer, and that makes it unique in the canon of showbiz bio-docs.

RELATED STORY Friday, November 19 8 p.m. – King of Cool (2021) – Documentary telling the story of actor and singer Dean Martin through film clips, photographs and interviews with family, friends and colleagues. 9:30 p.m. – The Caddy (1953) – A master golfer suffering from performance anxiety caddies for a man he’s taught everything. 11:15 p.m. – Rio Bravo (1959) – A sheriff enlists a drunk, a kid and an old man to help him fight off a ruthless cattle baron. Friday, November 26 8 p.m. – Ocean’s 11 (1960) – A group of friends plot to rob a Las Vegas casino. 10:15 p.m. – Robin and the Seven Hoods (1964) – A Chicago gangster stumbles into philanthropic work during a gang war. 12:30 a.m. – King of Cool (2021) – Documentary telling the story of actor and singer Dean Martin through film clips, photographs and interviews with family, friends and colleagues.

Dean Martin Lived Here. Video credits by ChristoExplore

The "Incomparable" Floyd was a fixture at NBC Burbank's Artist Entrance.

A Legendary figure as you walked into NBC Burbank's artist entrance was Floyd. He made "shoe shinning" famous. His booth was a few feet from our greeting area, we loved the guy. You know he was "the man," when he appeared on the Johnny Carson Show and talked about his most famous clients. One of a kind.

Dean Martin's ABANDONED Palm Springs Home Hideaway The Rat Pack Scott Mi...

Come inside the bright $1.8 million Palm Springs home where Dean Martin ...

KNBC-4 The Dean Martin Show Off Air Broadcast.

ABC NBC 1971 Dean Martin Show/ Unknown Show

Dean Martin Show Raw Footage Late 60's early 70's.

Jay Regas meets Dean.

7/18/21, 7:43 PM Jay Jay Regas During the early 50s I was a street urchin selling newspapers on Reno’s casino row at two in the mornings and one of the joints I would hustle papers was owned by Sam Sarlo. Sam had grown up with and delt craps with Dean Martin in Steubenville, Ohio. Steubenville was a gaming and prostitution Mecca before the War and after the war gambling and bordellos were closed in those communities tolerating vices. Like Forth Worth, Texas; Butte, Montana; Fort Smith, Arkansas; Anchorage, Alaska; Chicago, New York, and Steubenville the gamblers headed to Nevada.

They give credit to Bugsy Siegal for bringing gambling to Las Vegas, but the credit must be given to Willis Carrier the inventor of air conditioning because after the war Las Vegas was a hot dust bowl and the gambling in Nevada was at Reno. Sam had opened a small poker room and bar in an alley behind Harolds Club and took a liking to me hustling papers in his joint. After high school I opened a sign business and Sam who was developing his poker room and bar into a small casino became a customer.

I took a different direction and became a burglar and had a lot of time to play golf. I gained a reputation put out by law enforcement as being the most sophisticated and notorious burglar and safe cracker in eleven western states, Mexico, and Canada and at the time I had never been to Mexico, and I was selling swag to Sam. One May 1969 afternoon my father had a long lunch with the county sheriff who told dad they were going to kill me because they could not catch me. Of course, they could not catch me I was not doing anything in Reno. It scared the hell out of my father, and he asked me to move to Las Vegas and go to work for an uncle who was a major builder. My uncle was developing the International Country Club (today’s Las Vegas Country Club) golf course and the dwellings around the course. I went to work for the interior decorator. We were decorating condominiums, cluster homes, homes, modules on the ground for a high rise and the club house.

I was on the putting green and the pro put me in a threesome with Dean, Don Cherry who was singing in one of the casino lounges and Joe Snow whose dad ran the baccarat game a Cesar’s. At the time I was doing some skimming for some Steubenville operators at Cesar’s taking money off a roulette table. I was in the cart with Joe, and we got separated and Dean picked me up. He seemed like a cold fish, but I told him I had an acquaintance in Reno who says you and he were close in Steubenville. He said snarly: “Who’s that?” I told him Sam Sarlo and his demeanor changed and began to question me about Sam. Asked me if I could get ahold of him. Dean must have been feeling nostalgic. When we got to the club house, we went into the pro’s office and phoned Sam. They talked for an hour or so. After the call he told me they were playing tomorrow, and he asked if I could join them. We played regularly from June to November. One day he asked me if I listened to his music. I told: “Hell no… I listen to Sinatra.” A couple of days later he gave me an embossed, autographed, and numbered album of “A Man and His Music” with a: “Here asshole.” I never saw him drink anything but Iced Tea or V8 Juice even at the floor shows I attended at the Sahara. He was off-the-wall funny.

I was living in the gated community of the International Country Club and one early November day there was a knock on the door. It was the Clark County undersheriff with an open warrant for burglary. Cost me $200 on a $2,000 bond and I was not able to find any specifics. A couple weeks later same thing and a couple weeks later when we were at the booking desk, I asked how long this was going to go on? He reached under the counter and brought up a stack of booking slips and said: “Until I run our of booking slips or you run out of bail money.” I moved back to Reno and never heard or saw Dean again.

Memories

The Dean Martin Show - 09/29/1966 - FULL EPISODE

The Dean Martin Show, NBC, 4 April 1968

Dean Martin - "Welcome To My World" - Live in London 1983

Dean Martin - "Innamorata" (1956)

June 7th, Happy Birthday Dean!

The King of Cool: Always in Fashion

Dean Martin, Buddy Ebsen, Lee J. Cobb, Charles Nelson Reilly & Jackie Ve...

dean martin coolest cat that ever lived

Dean Martin and Ken Lane on studio.

Dean Martin - "Non Dimenticar" - LIVE

Dean Martin (Live) - I`m In The Mood For Love

Dean Martin - "Innamorata" (1956)

Dean "The King of Cool"

Promo blooper reel from 1965: Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra crack each o...

Dean Martin & Ken Lane - Everybody Loves Somebody (again!) & Show Ending

The Original "Rat Pack."

THE ORIGINAL RAT PACK By Max Rudin In 1960, an unlikely group of entertainers, all loosely gathered around Frank Sinatra, went to Las Vegas to shoot a movie and do two nightclub shows each evening, spending most of the hours in between at all-night parties. Billed, with intentional swagger, as “the Summit” (a reference to the coming conference of Eisenhower, de Gaulle, and Khrushchev), their stage act took off like a rocket, its momentum carrying them beyond the three-week club date into movie and record and business deals, reprises in Miami, Atlantic City, and Palm Springs — power and influence unusual even for movie stars. 

The Rat Pack announced that a new generation was laying claim to American tradition and to the right to define American Cool: one black, one Jew, two Italians, and one feckless Hollywoodized Brit, three of them second-generation immigrants, four raised during the Depression in ethnic city neighborhoods. Successful, self-assured, casual, occasionally vulgar, they were sign and symptom of what the war had done to the American WASP class system. The Rat Pack were more than entertainers, and the Summit was more than a stage act. It was a giddy version of multiethnic American democracy in which class was replaced by “class.” Sinatra and Martin and the Rat Pack exuded machismo and danger, a style lent authority by their known associations with powerful and violent men. Postwar Americans had learned to take their popular culture spiked with a touch of risk, and Sinatra had molded his adult image on the sensitive tough guys portrayed in the movies by Humphrey Bogart. Bogart in fact is central to Rat Pack history. In 1949 Sinatra had moved his family from L.A.’s Toluca Lake to Holmby Hills, just blocks from Bogart’s house, and the Hollywood rookie was inducted into a group of the film star’s drinking buddies. 

The story goes that when Bogart’s wife, Lauren Bacall, saw the drunken crew all together in the casino, she told them, “You look like a goddamn rat pack.” Sinatra liked having people around him, and after Bogart died in 1957, he assembled his own court. Joey Bishop, who grew up Joseph Gottlieb in South Philadelphia, the son of a bicycle repairman, was known as the Frown Prince of Comedy for his world-weary style. Singing with the Dorsey band in 1941, Frank had befriended the aspiring dancer, Sammy Davis, Jr., then part of the Will Mastin Trio; they reconnected after Sammy was discharged from the army, Dean Martin had come up as a singer very much in Sinatra’s mold. By the early fifties, the fellow Capitol recording artists had grown close, and they sealed their friendship in 1958 on the set of Some Came Running, which also featured the future Rat Packette Shirley MacLaine. In January 1959 Sinatra joined Martin for the first time on the stage of the Sands, setting the tone and format for the Rat Pack shows. Variety reported: “Frank Sinatra joined his Great & Good friend [Dean Martin] onstage, and the pair put on one of the best shows ever seen at the Sands.” It was a good thing, for the Sands, for Las Vegas, for the people whose money built all those modernistic hotels. Earlier that month Fidel Castro had marched into Havana and seized casinos that earned the mob millions annually. 

The pressure was now on Las Vegas, where the mob-with financing courtesy of the Teamsters Central States Pension Fund-had in the course of the 1950s invested in such new hotels as the Fremont and the Dunes. The Sands was the classiest, and it offered incentives to hold on to top talent. In 1958 Sinatra’s percentage in the hotel and casino was raised from two to nine points, and Dean Martin was sold a point. With Davis and Bishop already signed to long-term contracts, the Sands was the de facto home of the Rat Pack well before the Summit. The fifth member of the Pack, suave, London-born Peter Lawford, was an actor and entertainer who had landed a contract with MGM when he was twenty but never broke into serious leading roles. 

By the late fifties he wasn’t doing much, but he had other assets — his wife was Jack Kennedy’s sister Pat. Sinatra clearly relished the Kennedy connection; his Rat Pack nickname for Peter was Brother-in-Lawford. The Sands entertainment director agreed to a format for the Summit that fitted its improvisatory informality. For two shows each evening, at least one, perhaps two or three or four, sometimes all five entertainers, would appear on the Copa Room’s stage. Although February was traditionally a slow month, the hotel received eighteen thousand reservation requests for its two hundred rooms. Word traveled fast about the Summit’s wildness-hijinks partially scripted and anchored by the emcee, Bishop, whom Sinatra called “the hub of the big wheel.” Between star turns by Martin, Davis, and Sinatra, and dance numbers with Davis and Lawford, they wandered off to the wings, parodied each other, did impressions, and poured drinks from a bar cart they rolled onstage. They performed together, drank together, hung out together, and the press couldn’t get enough of them. At first they were called the Clan, over heavy protests. Sinatra said, “It’s just a bunch of millionaires with common interests who get together to have a little fun.” Bishop frowned: “Clan, Clan, Clan! I’m sick and tired of hearing things about the Clan. Just because a few of us guys get together once a week with sheets over our heads…” Sammy Davis, straight-faced: “Would I belong to an organization known as the Clan?”

The Rat Pack is remembered for their style, their irreverent humor, their boozy and fleshy private lives, and their leader’s occasional thuggish arrogance. But in their time they meant something else too, something that had everything to do with the expectations and aspirations of their audience. The key was ethnicity and the special role it played in postwar America. The Rat Pack show, unlike pre-war entertainment, featured — even flaunted — race and ethnicity. Bishop, dressed as a Jewish waiter, warns the two Italians to watch out “because I got my own group, the Matzia.” The night JFK showed up ringside, Dean picked Sammy up in his arms and held him out to the candidate: “Here. This award just came for you from the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People.” Sammy: “I’m colored, Jewish, and Puerto Rican. When I move into a neighborhood, I wipe it out.” The act worked because each of them projected a different attitude toward aspiration and its success: Frank was the embodiment of slum kid become American classic; the others were foils. Dean, with what Variety called his “somebody wrote this song so I might as well sing it” attitude, suggested to the audience that the whole American success thing was a racket. Joey warded off envy with classic Jewish self-deprecating irony. Sammy, with his heartbreakingly perfect accent, turned every number into a drama of aspiration, giving everything to win over the audience, to have it accept and love him despite his race; the message was about overcoming odds. And Peter was the ultimate foil: he stood for the elegant but desiccated Anglophilic WASP culture whose day was over. 

For ethnic Americans, the Rat Pack looked both back to the past and forward to the future, offering at once reassurance and exhilaration: a past of the guys on the block, coming up the hard way, ethnic jokes and attitudes; a future of complete assimilation, wealth, swinging fun, and acceptance — the giddy, disorienting flight to American success. There’s irony in the fact that the Rat Pack, like the cocktail and the cigar, has lately been taken up as an emblem of a new political incorrectness. The drinking, the smoking, the swinging insouciance seem like a vacation from the economic and political pressures of nineties America. But there is more to the Rat Pack than adolescent swagger, more even than the sharp-edged dash of their masculine style, though they had plenty of both. For a few short years America’s greatest entertainers kidded and sang their way through our last cultural consensus. Max Rudin is the publisher of The Library of America. This excerpt is from “The Rat Pack,” an essay in Las Vegas: An Unconventional History (2005), a companion to the film. A longer version of “The Rat Pack” appeared as “Fly Me to the Moon: Reflections on The Rat Pack,” the cover story in the December 1998 issue of American Heritage.

Dean Martin, Ken Lane & Jack Webb back in the late 60's.

Dean Martin & Ken Lane 12/8/1966

Dean Martin - “Everybody Loves Somebody” LIVE

One liners were Dean's forte. Great show to work on!

Dean, expect the unexpected!

"What was fun working on Dean's Show was you always expected to hear the unexpected. I'd love to get you On a slow boat to China"

Dean Martin - "S'posin'" - LIVE

All eyes on Dean, he hops on the piano, sings "You made me love you, you woke me up to do it," Audience cracks up... Dean Sprinkles his cigarette ashes on Kenny Lane's right shoulder "Now You're a General." Walks over to the "Gouch." "King of Cool takes over." DeanMartinBlog.com https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=POWm8ryqGIk&t=22s

I'm goin over to the 'GOUCH!" - I've Grown Accustomed to Her Face (

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C-8oNlaxbRU

I'm going over to the "Gouch!" "S'posin'"

I'm going over to the "Gouch!"

Meet the "Rat Pack."

They call me "Lucky." I stood next to Dean for two seasons working as an NBC Page. It was a thrill of a lifetime. I never shied away from meeting the great ones. Another "Rat Pack" moment was the Thursday night BS'ing with Sammy, the "Candy Man, at NBC's artist entrance. Sammy was looking for Dean, he was embarrassed when I told him he taped on Sunday's. No Dean. Then it was fate bumping into Frank and his entourage one night at NBC. A fleeting moment. He was visiting Mia Farrow during her NBC Special. And lastly, spending time with Joey Bishop, reminiscing about "The Rat Pack," during a Charity Golf Tournament in Huntington Beach in the early 90's. Yep, I'll always cherish the moments I shared with the legends I grew up to love as a kid. It paid to be an NBC Page in "Beautiful Downtown Burbank" during the golden years of Television. DeanMartinBlog.com (please no ads)

Short Dino Bio

Dean Martin was born Dino Paul Crocetti to Italian-American parents in the town of Steubenville, Ohio in 1917. His first language was Italian and didn’t learn how to speak English until the age of five. He dropped out of school at age 15 to become a boxer under the name “Kid Crochet.” At the same time he began to work with local bands, calling himself “Dino Martini” after the Metropolitan Opera tenor Nino Martini. In the early 1940s he began to sing for bandleader Sammy Watkins, who later asked Dino to change his name to “Dean Martin”. He worked for various bands in the early 1940s, while also performing in various nightclubs. Martin formed a friendship with Jerry Lewis and the act of Martin and Lewis eventually became an iconic comedy duo, and both eventually signed a deal with Paramount Pictures in 1949, for a radio show. The duo performed in many Hollywood films, but Martin and Lewis’s act eventually broke up in 1956, 10 years to the day of the first teaming. Martin found some success as a Hollywood actor, while keeping up his singing career at the same time. Martin, along with other famous singers, such as Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr., formed the The Rat Pack, they performed together while also appearing in movies, most famously Ocean’s 11. He later hosted many television shows, such as The Dean Martin Show, and The Dean Martin Celebrity Roast. Martin continued his career for some years and was married 3 times to 3 separate women. He was a heavy smoker, was diagnosed with lung cancer at Cedars Sinai Medical Center in September 1993, and died at the age of 78 in 1995 from acute respiratory failure resulting from emphysema.

Sunday's on the Dean Martin Show.

Watching Dean work back in 1966....working on his show was a breeze. He said..."I don't even breathe hard." "I go to the studio at 1 on Sunday afternoon and I'm out of there by nine. That's all there is to it."

Dean Martin, Peter Sellers, Dom DeLuise & Nipsey Russell - Barbershop Sk...

Dino

"So please meet me in the plaza near your casa I am only one, and one is much too few On an evening in Roma Don't know what the country's coming to But in Rome do as the Romans do Will you, on an evening in Roma."

Dom Deluise

"You're nobody till somebody loves you." Next to the women that idolized and loved Dean Martin, one man stands out that fell in the same category. Dom Deluise. He was Italian, proud of his heritage and loved being with Dean. Dom was as "Zany" on and off stage. He would kibitz with us during commercial breaks, and couldn't wait to do sketches with Dino. Since Dean wasn't a big fan of memorizing his lines, Dom would "ad lib" and the longer the skit, the more "off the wall" it became. They truly enjoyed each other's company. I was standing next to Dom before he did his entry, there was so much excitement on his face, I could feel the energy he was about to unleash on "old Dino." If the truth be told, Dom Deluise was one of Deans favorites. In my view, Dom would not have been as big a star without Dean's help. Two very funny men!

Dean Martin: Wine, Women and Song - documentary part 3 of 3

Dean Martin Interview at Wimbledon 1983

A funny Dean Martin moment. I was sitting in my chair watching the news a few days ago. As fate would have it, I lifted my right bottom and yes I "broke wind." Yes you read that right. It immediately reminded me of Dino story. It was a busy Sunday on the Dean Martin set during an afternoon taping in the late 60's. Dean did a short monologue then finished singing "You're Nobody Till Somebody Loves You," then we went to a commercial. I was standing within a few feet of Dean with the cue card and makeup guy, Dean scooted up on his bar stool, we heard "squeak," Dino "cut one." I looked at the cue card guy, and the makeup guy, they looked at me, then I looked at Dean, and he winked. "The King of Cool" and the three of us "burst in laughter." "Let's have a Vino for Dino!"

Dean Martin Bio

Playboy called him “the coolest man who ever lived.” Elvis Presley worshipped him. “He was the coolest dude I’d ever seen, period,” recalled Stevie Van Zandt, adding, “He wasn’t just great at everything he did. To me, he was perfect.” That man is Dean Martin. Simply put, he was a great singer. The warm sensuality of his voice continues to beguile generations of music fans with a winning style and a touch of mystery. Born Dino Crocetti in Steubenville, Ohio, his early autobiography is as gritty as that of any hip-hop star. He delivered bootleg liquor, served as a speakeasy croupier and blackjack dealer, worked in a steel mill and briefly ruled the ring as boxing phenom Kid Crochet. Winning his share of bouts earned him little apart from a broken nose, but Dino’s speakeasy experience put him in contact with club owners, resulting in his first singing gigs. With a fixed nose and a boost from his pals in the nightclub underworld, he became Dean Martin, styling himself after the top male vocalist of the time, Bing Crosby, and met Frank Sinatra in New York. Martin released his first single, “Which Way Did My Heart Go?” and was first paired with comic Jerry Lewis. The two shared a bill at the 500 Club in Atlantic City, but the night they combined their acts into a combo of manic comedy and debonair music saw the birth of a phenomenon. They were the hottest ticket around and parlayed their onstage success into a string of hit movies and television appearances. During Martin and Lewis’ decade-long partnership, Dean had such hits as “Memories Are Made of This,” “That’s Amore,” “Powder Your Face With Sunshine,” and “You Belong to Me,” among others, all for the Capitol label. Yet when their partnership dissolved, showbiz pundits predicted Lewis’ star would continue to rise and Martin’s would fizzle. The singer confounded the skeptics. As a solo act he was wowing crowds in Vegas, impressing critics and audiences in a series of dramatic film roles, scoring on TV with Dean Martin Show specials for NBC, and hitting the charts again with “Return to Me” and “Volare.” Not soon after, Martin’s affiliation with Frank Sinatra, Sammy Davis, Jr. and the rest of the fabled Rat Pack supplanted his earlier rep. He fueled his image as a boozing playboy in onstage antics with his pals and ring-a-ding ensemble films like Ocean’s Eleven, yet Martin later claimed his cocktail-swilling persona was largely a pose. Though he left Capitol to sign with Sinatra’s fledgling Reprise label, Martin capped his tenure there with a bang, releasing two classic singles, “Ain’t That a Kick in the Head” and “You’re Nobody ‘Til Somebody Loves You,” showcasing him at the height of his powers. Even at the height of Beatlemania with the group topping the charts, Martin reasserted himself with typical aplomb knocking the Fab Four from their perch with the buttery anthem “Everybody Loves Somebody.” Several other hits, including “The Door Is Still Open to My Heart,” “I Will,” “Houston” and “Send Me the Pillow You Dream On,” followed during his years at Reprise. Though he continued to perform, Martin’s visibility was greatest in films and on TV, where he nursed his lush-in-a-tux image with the long-running Dean Martin Variety Show and the hugely successful Dean Martin’s Celebrity Roast. His effortless vocalizing has become a modern shorthand for cool, as evidenced by the use of his songs in films, television, and ad campaigns. Dino: The Essential Dean Martin, a recent collection of both the Capitol and Reprise eras, sold more briskly than any previous Martin recording, going gold within months and platinum within a year. Biographer Nick Tosches (Dino: Living High in the Dirty Business of Dreams) described Martin as a classic menefreghista, Italian for “one who does not give a f—.” The term, in Dean Martin’s case, conveys not indifference but a refusal to be beaten down by the world and a determination to greet life with an easy smile, a graceful melody and an aura of unflappable cool.

Barbara Eden still beautiful after all these years.

How do I remember Barbara Eden? Standing next to her waiting to appear with Dean was somewhat breathtaking. Watched her on "I Dream of Jeannie," and now she's standing next to me ready to join Dean doing a "song and dance," I recall she was beautiful as ever. Not that tall, but oozed with charisma. Lot's of talent. Dean was a lucky man, it seemed every female guest on his show had a "crush" on "The King of Cool." One of my favorite guests and a great memory working on the Dean Martin Show.

A Short Dean Martin Story

A DREAM, AN APPARITION, AND FATE (or How And Why I Found Dean Martin)D.J. Starling (djstarling.com) On March 23, 1987, I heard the horrible news. A fighter jet and its pilot, thirty-five-year-old United States Air Force Captain Dean Paul Martin, had disappeared from radar screens during a routine training mission two days earlier. My heart stopped. Not my Dino. It couldn’t be. From that moment on, I listened to all news reports, praying for his safety, feeling his family’s pain. *I’ve been a Dean Martin fan since I was a child in the early ‘60s. Handsome and sophisticated, he lived a swinging show biz life that fascinated me. By the age of 10 in 1965, my attention had turned to the world of teen idols. Paul McCartney was my favorite, but his allure faded when I discovered a new face in the teen fan magazines I read religiously. One look at one grainy photograph and I was in love with the blond, blue-eyed boy who played bass guitar for a trio new to the music world. They called themselves Dino, Desi, and Billy. It was quite a surprise when I learned that the boy I was dreaming about, thirteen-year-old Dino, was the son of my earlier hero, Dean. Their unexpected family ties excited me, adding to the mystique of both father and son. Little girl fantasies filled my mind, evolving into the private, personalized fairytales that helped me get through a troubled adolescence. Unlike reality, life was perfect in my imaginary world. Dean was king, Dino, my very own Prince Charming, and I was everything he wanted me to be in every scenario I created, each one ending with happily ever after. Even after I married and started a family of my own, I found myself thinking about Dino every now and then, and he always made me smile. I had kept up with him over the years through magazine articles, and watched closely when he began an acting career. By then, he had dropped the nickname, Dino, in favor of his given name, Dean Paul. He’d always be Dino to me, though, and I clung to a lingering secret desire—the chance to meet him one day, if only to say thank you for some of my fondest childhood memories. Then I lost him before I found him. Dino was killed when his jet crashed. A piece of my heart, a part of my youth died too. The shock of losing my fantasy prince hit hard. I mourned him and missed him as I would an old friend, while time, a husband, and two young daughters keeping me busy softened my grief. I would never forget Dino and hoped for a chance to somehow say a proper goodbye to him. In 1989, my husband, Mark, and I decided to visit Los Angeles during our family’s summer vacation. We wanted to see the sights, and I would finally have the opportunity to pay my respects to Dino, two years after he died. I never could have imagined the events about to unfold. When I called a travel agent in early May to arrange our trip, I learned that the hotel where we hoped to stay was full during the week we wanted to travel, so we agreed to go the following week. A few days later, while reading a jeweler’s trade magazine, Mark learned of a trade show to be held at our hotel, a week after our rescheduled visit. Once again, I called our travel agent, eager to take advantage of the chance to incorporate a little business into our plans. “Changing your reservations would normally be no problem,” he told me, “but our airline computers are down at the moment.” It was a Saturday, and the agent was apologetic for the inconvenience as he reminded me that by 9am Monday, our flight schedule would be locked in, as per airline policy. The agent sounded much more hopeful when he added, “If we do get back on line before close of business today, I’ll make sure to take care of it for you.” “I’d appreciate that,” I said. “And don’t worry about letting me know. I’ll call you Monday to find out.” Hanging up the phone, I wondered which week we’d be traveling, glad it really didn’t matter. That night, I had a cryptic dream. Dino was there and I was telling him of my plans, and all the other things I wanted him to hear—how much he meant to me, how much I missed him. “I know,” he assured me, flashing the smile I so lovingly remembered. “But you have to tell him.” “Tell who? Tell him what?” “My dad needs to know how you feel. It’ll help.” “Your father?” I asked, unable to hide my surprise. “What are you talking about? How can I tell Dean Martin anything? Where? When?” Even in a dream, I knew the idea was ridiculous. But Dino gave me an answer. “August twelfth,” he said. “At eight o’clock.” Then he faded away. Seemingly so real, the image remained clear in my mind when I woke up the next morning, and I immediately checked the calendar. If my family and I went to Los Angeles for the jewelry show, I’d be home in Fort Lauderdale on August twelfth. But if a computer breakdown forced us into going the week that was now our third choice, I’d be in L.A. on that date. Suddenly recognizing the hands of fate at work, dictating the dates of our vacation, I was now certain I’d meet Dean Martin. Somehow. Somewhere. When I told my husband about my dream, and my seemingly impossible expectations, he laughed. But I knew I was right. I felt it. As expected, we were in L.A. on August twelfth. That morning, at quarter to eight, I left my sleeping family in our hotel room and drove off to visit Dino’s grave. Having learned the location of the cemetery through news reports, I stood alone at his graveside for more than twenty minutes, hoping for further instructions while thinking back to the endless, wondrous hours Dino and I had happily shared in my childhood fantasies and dreams. When I returned to the hotel, I called my family in our room from the lobby. Ready to get started on another day, they promised to come right down. While I waited, I checked the hotel bulletin board. I read about a wedding to be held there that night, and a fund-raising dinner at eight o’clock to benefit St. Jude’s Hospital. The announcements meant little to me, and as we were driving back to the hotel after another day of sightseeing, my husband had some questions for me. “What are we doing tonight?” Mark asked. “Where are we supposed to be at eight o’clock?” His tone was sarcastic and I didn’t have an answer. If my dream had really meant something, as I firmly believed it had, I was certain I’d be led to the right place. That’s when it hit me. The information I’d read earlier finally registered in my brain. The fund-raising dinner at our hotel . . . would it be a star-studded affair? I was absentmindedly thinking out loud and my daughters jumped on my words. “What celebrities? Where? When? Will we see them?” When we arrived back at our hotel, my nine-year-old daughter, Lori, flew from the car and raced to the concierge desk, asking questions. “Several celebrities are expected,” she was told. “They should start arriving in about two hours.” The four of us rushed to our room, showered and changed, and hurried back downstairs to the entrance with our camera and my daughters’ autograph books in hand. Once the guests began arriving around seven o’clock, my daughters kept busy collecting signatures while their dad snapped pictures at a furious pace. We were surrounded by major celebrities, the dreams of a starstruck tourist in Los Angeles fulfilled. After a half hour or so, I began trembling and glanced at Mark. “If Dean Martin gets out of a car at eight o’clock,” I said breathlessly, “I think you’ll need to take me home in a straitjacket.” My premonition was suddenly frightening me. At the same time, Lori had started a conversation with a friendly young girl named Susan, a professional photographer who made a living tracking celebrities around town. My daughter was asking her if she knew which celebrities were expected that night, mentioning several she hoped to see. When Lori brought up Dean Martin’s name, Susan couldn’t hide her surprise. “You’re interested in Dean Martin?” she asked, her wide eyes staring at the nine-year-old in front of her. “Sure,” Lori answered. “My mom’s always been a big fan and I love Martin and Lewis movies!” Standing nearby watching them, I walked closer. “You want to meet Dean Martin?” Susan asked. “I’d love to,” I responded quickly, intrigued by her tone that implied she had reliable information. “Do you know how I could?” That’s when Susan told me about La Famiglia, an Italian restaurant in Beverly Hills that Mr. Martin frequented, adding he usually arrived there about 7:30. When I checked my watch, my pulses raced. This bit of crucial information had come to me at exactly 8pm, on August twelfth. As soon as that shock subsided, I called the restaurant for reservations. Because the establishment was closed the next day, I chose the night after that, which would be our last night in L.A. We arrived on schedule and, as Susan had suggested, we asked the parking valet if Mr. Martin was expected that night. He was, and at any moment. I knew he would be, and I could feel Dino with me as the tuxedoed maître d led us to our table. And I trembled when Lori questioned him about the possibility of our meeting Mr. Martin while we were there. “I’ll ask him,” the maître d replied. “He usually doesn’t mind, but sometimes, he’s just not in the mood.” When I glanced at the large front window of the restaurant, I spied Mr. Martin getting out of his car. My knees knocked together as he entered the room, and my heart skipped a beat when he sat alone at a booth, steps from our table. My confidence strong, I anxiously awaited the okay to fulfill my mission. It came within minutes. My husband, daughters, and I apprehensively approached Mr. Martin and introduced ourselves. Happily for all of us, he was most affable, engaging the girls in friendly conversation while my husband and I began our own conversation in glances over our daughters’ heads. His eyes pleaded with me not to mention Dino as he knew I wanted. My eyes told him I had to. Dino had told me to come, and in a sense, had led me to the opportunity. I only wished he told me what to say as my husband took the girls back to our table, leaving me alone with Dean. I didn’t know how to go further, and I felt shaky as I stared into his sad brown eyes. Finally, I stammered, “I wanted to tell you, Mr. Martin, that I was a big fan of Dino’s.” He returned my stare as I went on, trying to explain how much Dino had meant to me during the twenty-four years since I first saw him. When I noticed tears in Dean’s eyes, my heart broke for him, and I was overcome by guilt, feeling totally insensitive. I had hoped to comfort him somehow, but it wasn’t working out that way. Quivering, I searched for the proper words to end this meeting. “I just wanted you to know,” I said, “that there are people who still think about Dino, and miss him, and will always remember him. He was special and I just wanted to tell you that. Thank you for your time.” Silently, I added: Thank you, and Dino, for a lot of great memories. You’re both wonderful. Rejoining my family, I gave them a condensed version of the mostly one-sided conversation. My husband quietly berated my intrusion into the Martin family’s personal tragedy, and I began to wonder if he was right as we finished our meal. Filing passed Dean’s table on our way out, we said goodbye as we moved along. He nodded and waved, and wished us a safe trip home the next day. At my daughters’ request, we took a walk before we got our car, browsing the store windows lining the street. And then, as we were nearing the restaurant entrance on our way back, the parking valet we had questioned earlier called to us. “Mr. Martin is getting ready to leave,” he said. “He should be right out if you’d like to see him again.” We didn’t even have time to answer. Dean was suddenly standing by Lori, and she asked if I could take a picture of them together. “It would be my pleasure,” he replied with a warm smile as he reached down and wrapped his arm around her. When my husband noticed what was happening, he took the camera and pushed me and our younger daughter, Lindsay, into the picture. Overwhelmed by all that happened, I somehow found the courage to ask Mr. Martin if I could give him a kiss after the photo had been snapped. With the same roguish smile I had seen so often on TV and in movies, he bent down and offered his cheek. I didn’t tell him part of that kiss was from Dino, but there was a true warmth in his embrace as his arm encircled me, as if he had sensed it. I wanted to believe he had. I wanted to believe he felt Dino’s presence between us as much as I did. “Thank you,” I said to him. “We really appreciate your kindness. It was a special pleasure to meet you.” “No,” he muttered softly. “Thank you.” I was shaking as I watched Dean get into his car and drive away. “Maybe you did do the right thing,” my husband admitted as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “The tone of that Thank You certainly sounded like he really appreciated what you said.” I can only hope Mark was right this time. Still, for the rest of my life, I will fondly remember the evening, as well as both father and son, the king and my childhood prince. The only thing that could have made the night any more memorable or thrilling for me would have been having Dino there with us—healthy and alive . . . not just in our hearts.

Frank Montiforte

Frank Montiforte is a very funny man. After Sunday afternoons, working the Dean Martin Show, and weekdays on Hollywood Squares, Hope and Benny Specials, my fellow NBC Pages and I would drive off to Hollywood "Hot Spots" like PJ's and Whiskey A-Go-Go for an "adult beverage" before trekking home. Those were the Frankie Randall, Eddie Cano, Trini Lopez days. Little did I know Montiforte tended bar at Whiskey's. After the Hollywood bar scene, Frank opened a "swanky" dress shop in Beverly Hills. His clients included Sophia Loren, and the infamous Linda Lovelace to name a few. Years later, when I moved to Palm Springs, I bumped into Frank at weekly "lunch bunch" group of retired agents, screenwriters, and old movie legends. The room is always buzzing with stories about the "Golden Age of Hollywood." You'd love to be a fly on the wall! Now Frank is one of the stars on our Wise Guys Cooking Show here in Palm Springs on NBC. Check it out on WiseGuysCooking.com

Dean loved comedians!

Dean's guest list always included great comedians. George Burns, Jackie Mason, Flip Wilson, Rowan and Martin, Foster Brooks, Dom Deluise, Guy Marks, you name it. The comic I remember best was a little short guy named Jackie Vernon. His dry sense of humor was hilarious. He would go on and on, one of his funniest lines was "they named a lake after him in Wisconson, called "Lake Stupid." Don't know why, it's stuck in my mind after all of these years. It was a treat to watch Dean "adlib" with the best. Dean always got big laughs when they wandered "off script."