Ahem. For those of you in the audience who are under the impression that Connie Francis was a late-50s, early-60s phenomenon who got wiped out along with all of her beach-party compatriots when the Beatles roared into town, I have news for you. (Quotes from Wikipedia):

• Her reach spread far outside the borders of the United States. “Francis recorded music in multiple languages, including English, Spanish, Italian, French, German, Greek, Yiddish, Dutch, Swedish and Japanese, making her a best-selling artist in international markets as well as in American immigrant communities. During the 1960s, her songs not only topped the charts in numerous countries around the world, but she was also voted the number 1 singer in over 10 countries. In 1960, she was named the most popular artist in Europe, the first time a non-European received this honor. Francis’s enduring popularity overseas led to television specials in countries around the world such as Great Britain, Germany, Spain, and Italy. Even at the height of the Cold War, Francis’s music was well received in Iron Curtain countries, and some of her recordings were made available on state-owned record labels such as Melodiya in the Soviet Union and on Jugoton in Yugoslavia, although it was common knowledge that rock ‘n’ roll was highly disparaged in Eastern bloc countries. In 1992, a medley of remixed versions of her biggest German hits charted in Germany. A single, entitled ‘Jive, Connie’, ended up among the top-ten best-selling singles of the year.”
• Her songs had legs. “In May 2025, her 1962 song ‘Pretty Little Baby’ went viral on TikTok and became a sleeper hit; when reached for comment, Francis said she had forgotten about the song but was pleased that her music—and the innocence it sought to represent—was being embraced by a younger audience. It was released on a 7″ single by Republic Records. The song returned Francis to the US charts for the first time in 41 years, making it to No. 13 on the Billboard Bubbling Under the Hot 100, as well as making the top-5 on IMI’s India International chart.”
• Numbers don’t lie. “She amassed over 200 million records sold, placing her among the best-selling music artists in history.”

As her first big hit was a song written in 1923, I think it’s safe to say that Connie’s music appealed to a century’s worth of generations. In addition to multiple languages, she covered songs in a wide variety of genres: pop, rock, novelty songs, torch ballads, R&B, jazz, country, Broadway standards, children’s music, waltzes, spirituals, and traditional songs of various ethnic groups in the United States.

After immersing myself in the dysfunctional and disgusting state of my former homeland in my “Music for the Midterms” mini-series, I found myself yearning for something beautiful to counter the ugliness of that experience, and few voices are as beautiful as Connie’s. As an extra-added bonus, the songs in this compilation cover her peak years between 1958 and 1963, a much more hopeful period in American history (until November 22, at least).

*****

Concetta Rosa Maria Franconero took to music at a very early age and made her debut as a singer-accordionist at the Olympic amusement park in Irvington, New Jersey. She described the moment in her bio Among My Souvenirs.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen,” Miss Masciola announced from the huge outdoor stage, “a most unusual young lady—our little sweetheart, four-year-old, Connie Franconero.” Wasting no time in leaping from my mother’s arms, I quickly scaled the long row of steps two at a time while dwarfed by my large twelve bass accordion. I winked confidently at the conductor, Joe Pisile, and he winked back at me, grinning widely. I curtsied, just the way I’d practiced in the mirror on mommy’s bedroom door. And when I did, my pink lace panties peeked out from under my pink and white lace pinafore. Then I began to play and sing, “Anchors Aweigh.” After only a few bars of “Anchors Aweigh,” my heart skipped a beat when I heard it for the very first time—that magical sound of the audience whistling, chuckling and applauding. What a day to remember! It hit me like a bolt of lightning, an almost scary, but a very thrilling feeling, too. “Wow, what the heck is this? It’s like a fairy tale—that’s what it is!”

Francis, Connie (2017). Among My Souvenirs: The Real Story Vol. 1 (Function). Kindle Edition.

The fairytale would continue with performances at talent shows, neighborhood events, and television appearances on Startime Kids and Arthur Godfrey’s Talent Scouts. Godfrey made a significant contribution to her future success by suggesting she change her last name to the more pronounceable “Francis” and dump the accordion. She was more than ready to rid herself of the heavy instrument, but was worried that her father would have a hissy fit about the name change. After doing the Godfrey show using her real name, she mentioned Godfrey’s suggestion, and told Gary James on classicbands.com. “After that, my father said, ‘Yeah, Connie Francis. That has a nice sound to it. That’s not too bad. We’ll use that.'”

Connie continued to perform at talent shows and the like, and managed to find work singing demonstration records designed to showcase new songs to established singers. Eventually, manager George Scheck hooked up with publisher Lou Levy, who agreed to put up half the dough to pay the fees for a recording session, where Connie would record four songs that Scheck and Levy could present to record companies. They landed a deal with MGM Records because one of the songs was titled “Freddy,” and executive Harry A. Meyerson had a son named Freddy and thought it would be the perfect birthday gift. Connie’s contract was limited to ten solo singles and one duet single, so when the first nine solo singles failed to chart (including “Freddy”), and the duet with country singer Marvin Rainwater (“The Majesty of Love”) barely squeezed into the top 100, MGM informed her that they would not renew her contract.

Another development turned that bit of news into a double whammy. Connie was one smart cookie who had graduated from high school as the salutatorian and earned a full scholarship at NYU in the field of medicine. She had begun her studies and was doing quite well when the university pulled the rug out from under her.

Taking the Hudson tubes to NYU at Washington Square each day was certainly nothing like attending Wellesley. But because I was granted that scholarship, come hell or high water, I was determined to get a straight A average. That’s the reason why I was so astonished when I returned home from another two-week record promotion tour and was informed by the dean that my scholarship was being rescinded. “Are you kidding me? But why?” So far, I have straight As!” The dean’s response: “We’d prefer to grant our scholarships to persons who are more serious about their academic endeavors and goals.” Serious? Was he kidding? All my life, I’d been nothing but a pathological, and frankly, boring bookworm!

Francis, Connie. Among My Souvenirs: The Real Story Vol. 1 (Function). Kindle Edition.

As luck would have it, she still had to complete one more session with MGM, and what happened next was the musical equivalent of football’s Hail Mary.

“Who’s Sorry Now” (Kalmar-Ruby-Snyder, 1957): I’ll turn things over to Gary James, who sussed out the fascinating story behind  “Who’s Sorry Now?”

Gary – I’m just wondering. If your father hadn’t been in the background, pushing and promoting all the while, maybe you wouldn’t have had a career.

Connie – It wouldn’t have happened. He had insisted on “Who’s Sorry Now” for a year and a half. I had gone through 18 bomb sides, nine releases on MGM. We were down to our last recording. My father said “Look, dummy,” he had this great, but very elusive charm, “You picked out 18 duds. Let me pick one song. Sing this song. For a year and a half I’ve been trying to get you to sing this song.” I said “Don’t tell me it’s ‘Who’s Sorry Now’ again.” I said. “Please Daddy. It was 1923. The kids will laugh me right off American Bandstand.” He said, “Unless you do this song, sister, the only way you’ll get on American Bandstand is if you sit on top of the TV set.” (laughs)

Gary – How long did it take you to record “Who’s Sorry Now?” Did you get it on the first take?

Connie – The second take. The first take was bad because there was something wrong with the orchestra. We did it on the second take, in 16 minutes. I finally agreed with my father to do “Who’s Sorry Now?” Usually we could do three songs on a session. We didn’t attempt to do four songs. I placed “Who’s Sorry Now?” fourth, so we wouldn’t get to it. So there were 16 minutes left. I was in the control room and I pressed the button and said to the musicians, “Sorry guys, there’s no time for ‘Who’s Sorry Now?'” Lipman (conductor) said, “Get in the god-damn studio and record the tune before I kill you.” (laughs) So I marched into the studio and recorded “Who’s Sorry Now?” It was the first time that I ever recorded that I didn’t try to imitate somebody else. I was doing demos when I was 14 years old. I was earning ten dollars for four hours, which went a long way in those days. Each of the publishers would have a particular artist in mind that they wanted to gear this song to. So they’d say, “C’mon Connie, give it a Rosemary Clooney sound. Give it that great Patti Page or Jo Stafford sound.” And so I would do it, and sound like them. But I didn’t have a style of my own yet. On “Who’s Sorry Now?” I hated the song so much that I didn’t care what I sounded like. So I just sang it.

Gary – And sang it so convincingly. You really sounded sorry.

Connie – I was sorry I had to do the song. (laughs)

Connie left the studio firmly believing that her musical career was over, but on New Year’s Day, 1958, she received the news of a lifetime when she tuned into American Bandstand.

I heard Dick Clark mention something about a new girl singer, so what else is new, I thought. Another girl singer. There are ninety-five million females in the country and I’ll bet ninety-five percent of them sing. “There is no doubt about it”, predicted Mr. Clark. “She’s headed straight for the number one spot.”

I began feeling sorry for myself and a bit envious too. Good luck to her, I thought. And then Mr. Clark just happened to play a song called “Who’s Sorry Now?” “My Who’s Sorry Now?” It was a total surprise, a complete shock. Well, the feeling was cosmic, just cosmic! The ruckus I raised was startling enough to tear thirty odd ravenous Italians away from their mountainous portions of Manicotti, and everybody knows that’s no mean feat!

“Daddy! Mom! Hurry up”! I squealed, “Georgie! Aunt Marie! Quick, Dick Clark is playing “Who’s Sorry Now?”

“Oh yeah? Someone else cut the thing too, huh”? Daddy said with his customary optimism.

“No, no Daddy! Listen! Its my “Who’s Sorry Now?”

“Nah, can’t be. It’s been out too long. The thing’s dead.”

“Daddy, for God sake, will ya’ listen already! Quiet.”

We all have milestones in our lives, but more often than not, we recognize them only in retrospect. This milestone wasn’t like that at all. I recognized it in five seconds flat. What I didn’t know was that I would forever be able to pinpoint the precise moment that turned my life around—a sharp 180-degree turnaround.

Ajlouny, J. Whoopi Likes Her Bacon Crispy: 65 Fascinating Excerpts from the Memoirs of Famous and Infamous Women. Fresh Ink Group, 2021.

The final Q&A of the Gary James interview reveals the end of the story.

Gary – How many records did that sell?

Connie – Oh, well over a million.

In comparison to the two most popular 1923 versions, well, there is no comparison. Isham Jones drives his orchestra through a high-speed fox trot that turns the emotional core of the song into a “nanny-nanny-pooh-pooh” revenge tune. The Marion Harris version is hampered by one of those narrative introductions popular in the 20s, and her thin and reedy vocals lack emotional power. Despite her initial dismissal of the song, Connie varies her phrasing and delivery to express a range of emotions, from sweet payback to the “do unto others” aspect of the Golden Rule. The key change in the final verse allows Connie to belt out the lyrics with strength and confidence before she tones it down on the closing line, sending a clear message to her ex that if he was thinking about winning her back, he can fuhgeddaboudit.

Right to the end
Just like a friend
I tried to warn you somehow
You had your way
Now you must pay
I’m glad that you’re sorry now

Speaking of lessons learned, in addition to “father knows best” (sometimes), Connie realized that she had no need to imitate other singers. She possessed an unusually captivating voice that commanded attention, and all she needed was someone like Dick Clark to validate her amazing talent. Classified as a soprano, her vocal range spanned two and one-half octaves, and as noted by Chantal V. Johnson, Connie instinctively knew how to control her breathing and positioning to get the most out of a song.

“I’m Sorry I Made You Cry” (N.J.Clesi, 1958): Having learned another lesson that some old songs have a life of their own thanks to the emphasis on melody, Connie agreed to record a song that dated back to 1916. It’s likely that in her mind she was covering a song that Frank Sinatra popularized in 1947, as she played his records incessantly in her childhood.

Connie’s performance is unquestionably superb, but the subject matter and the arrangement bear too much resemblance to “Who’s Sorry Now?” My guess is that MGM adopted the “don’t mess with success” approach, but two songs in a row containing “sorry” in the title likely pigeonholed Connie as the “Sorry Girl” and a one-trick pony. The song peaked at #36 on the Billboard charts, but instead of interpreting the slide as a warning signal, the label had her record another sad relationship ballad (“Heartaches”), which failed to chart at all.

“Stupid Cupid” (Sedaka-Greenfield, 1958): At this point, Connie knew her musical career was on the line. She told John Donatelli, “I knew I had to come up with a hit on the third record. It was crucial. I listened to every publisher’s song in New York, but nothing was hitting me.” (Wikipedia) Concerned about winding up as a one-hit wonder, Connie accepted Don Kirshner’s suggestion that she meet with a pair of up-and-comers from the Brill Building: Neil Sedaka (music) and Howie Greenfield (lyrics). They met at Connie’s house, and at first, the demonstration did not go well.

Neil Sedaka, the student, began singing and playing on the piano a well-written but uncommercial ballad. It was difficult to tell at first that it was uncommercial because, as I would later learn, whenever Neil demonstrated a song he played it as if it were already a hit. Then Neil played another ballad and another and another, until it seemed as if he had played me a medley of every ballad ever written. It was really good music, but I knew the kids wouldn’t dig it. Too educated . . .

After the umpteenth ballad, I became so bored, that I stretched out on the sofa on my tummy and began scribbling secret thoughts into my diary.

Francis, Connie. Among My Souvenirs: The Real Story Vol. 1 (Function). Kindle Edition.

The songwriting team noticed, and after refusing their request to share what was in her diary, Connie lowered the boom.

Look, fellas, your work is so musical, but it’s too educated; the kids don’t dig that kind of stuff anymore. Don’t you boys have somethin’, you know, a little more lively? Because to tell you the truth, you two have been puttin’ me into a near coma for the last three hours.” “Pssst,” Howie buzzed in Neil’s ear, “play ’er the number we gave to the Shepherd Sisters this morning.” “No way, Howie, not that stupid thing,” Neil whispered back nervously. “She’s a classy singer. She’ll be insulted.” “Go ahead, Neil! Play it!” Howie insisted. When Neil refused again, Howie put it this way: “Look, Neil, she HATES everything we wrote, doesn’t she? So what have we got to lose?” (ibid)

The number was “Stupid Cupid,” and after they finished, Connie went wild. “THAT SONG! That’s It!” I squealed, dancing about the room. “You guys got my next record! Hit title! Stupid Cupid! MAN, WHAT A SMASH!” (ibid)

Neil can be forgiven for his assumption that Connie was a “classy singer” who specialized in ballads, because that’s all he had ever heard from her. Had she recorded another ballad, she might have been sentenced to the Easy Listening category for life. Backed by sax, electric guitar, Jordanaire-like background singers, hand claps, and one of the few noticeable bass parts of the era, Connie established her credentials as a pop-rocker by nailing all the blue notes in a playful performance featuring vocal flips and a thrilling belt-it-out bridge.

Howie Greenfield’s lyrics capture the innocence, ambivalence and confusing state of teens in the fifties regarding the possibility of a romantic relationship. While rock ‘n’ roll and films like Rebel Without a Cause and Blackboard Jungle had begun to chip away at established norms, conformity still ruled the day. Teenagers were caught in a never-ending battle between their hormones and the need to please parents and teachers. The situation led to a series of Hamlet-like soliloquies. “To date or not to date.” “To go steady or not go steady.” “To kiss or not to kiss.” “To slow dance or sit this one out.” That explains why Cupid was such an irritant:

Stupid Cupid, you’re a real mean guy
I’d like to clip your wings so you can’t fly
I’m in love and it’s a crying shame
And I know that you’re the one to blame
Hey, hey, set me free
Stupid Cupid, stop picking on me

I can’t do my homework and I can’t think straight
I meet him every morning ’bout a half past eight
I’m acting like a lovesick fool
You’ve even got me carrying his books to school./blockquote>
Whoa, Nellie! She’s carrying his books to school? I guess she preferred nerds over jocks.

My favorite parts of the song are in the repeated third and fourth verses, where Connie executes a switch from straight to kittenish as she admits that this love thing isn’t all that bad:

Since I kissed his loving lips of wine
The thing that bothers me is that I like it fine

Naughty girl! Off to the confessional! On second thought, just go do your homework.

“Stupid Cupid” peaked at #14 in the USA, but topped the charts in the U.K. In a complete switcheroo, the B-Side ballad “Carolina Moon” shot to #1 in Norway while the A-side was ignored.

“Fallin'” (Sedaka-Greenfield, 1958): Connie sings this blues number with her ever-present confidence, but the song suffers from a weak arrangement featuring a clunky guitar and lyrics that are far too busy. The song landed at #30 on the Billboard but was completely ignored by the Brits. For reasons unknown, the label repurposed “Fallin'” as a B-side to her next single (“I’ll Get By”), and neither side charted. Time to shake things up again! Maybe a change of scenery?

“My Happiness” (Peterson-Bergantine, 1958): Connie flew out to Los Angeles to record her next single at Radio Recorders, which was considered the best studio in L.A. back then. Billie Holiday, Louis Armstrong, Charlie Parker, Sam Cooke, Elvis, and a host of others had made records there. Better still, Connie would be working with a top-tier conductor in David Rose.

The original 1948 version by Jon and Sondra Steele was one of Connie’s favorite songs, so she already had in mind how she wanted to approach the song. As she liked the sound of the duet on the original version, Connie made up her own duet, handling both melody and harmony in the verses, delivering both roles languorously as she awaits her lover’s return with mixed feelings of confidence and longing.

Evening shadows, make me blue
When each weary day is through
How I long to be with you, my happiness

Every day I reminisce
Dreaming of your tender kiss
Always thinking how I miss my happiness

Connie dispenses with the harmonies in the bridge and sings with power and passion, still confident her mate will return.

A million years, it seems
Have gone by since we shared our dreams
But I’ll hold you again
There’ll be no blue memories then

The closing verse is repeated, with the first in the original key of F major and the finale in the slightly higher key of G major. The actual root chords are seventh chords, and combined with trumpet counterpoints, give the song a subtle taste of jazz. David Rose does a superb job leading the orchestra, supplying orchestral fills between the stanzas and never coming close to burying Connie’s voice.

The song returned Connie to the top ten, but fell one slot short of topping the US charts. Darn!

“If I Didn’t Care” (Lawrence, 1959): This song was quite a ballsy choice on Connie’s part, as the original version by The Ink Spots was the 10th best-selling single of all time, having sold more than ten million records. Once again, Connie’s vocals are superb, but the other unnamed singer providing vocal counterpoints sounds like a white guy trying to sound like a black guy. Despite the distraction, the song made it to #22, so there’s that.

“Lipstick On Your Collar” (Lewis-Goehring, 1959): Connie and the suits at MGM finally found a winning formula: put a rocker on the A-Side and a ballad on the B-side and promote both songs at the same time. “The result was the most successful double-sided hit of Francis’ career, as ‘Lipstick on Your Collar’ – the first uptempo Connie Francis single to reach the US Top Ten – peaked at No. 5 on the Billboard Hot 100 in July 1959, while ‘Frankie’ peaked at No. 9.” (Wikipedia) Both sides made the top 10 in several countries, from Australia to Europe.

This Brill Building offering is a fun ride, betrayal aside. Connie’s vocals are appropriately assertive, and even if you pay no attention to the lyrics, you get the distinct impression that this woman takes no bullshit from anyone, especially a lying son-of-a-bitch.

Nyah, Nyah, Nyah . . .

When you left me all alone at the record hop
Told me you were going out for a soda pop
You were gone for quite a while, half an hour or more
You came back and, man oh man, this is what I saw

Lipstick on your collar told a tale on you
Lipstick on your collar said you were untrue
Bet your bottom dollar, you and I are through
‘Cause lipstick on your collar told a tale on you, yeah

You said it belonged to me, made me stop and think
And then I noticed yours was red, mine was baby pink
Who walked in but Mary Jane? Lipstick all a mess
Were you smooching my best friend? Guess the answer’s yes

I think Connie needed to have a little chat with her best friend, who probably won’t be her best friend anymore.

“Frankie” (Sedaka-Greenfield, 1959): During a chat with Neil and Howie, Connie told them she wanted a ballad with a title bearing a boy’s name. When they suggested “Bobby,” she launched into a rant about the fan mag gossip that she was “dying of despair” over the demise of her relationship with Bobby Darin.

“So bottom line, boys, the name ‘Bobby’ is out of the question? Lose it, OK? Now let’s think of another name like…lemme see…wait a second! I got it! I got it! It’s FRANKIE! Who else but Frankie Avalon? It’s perfecto! I mean, Frankie’s the hottest teenage idol in the country! The kids’ll love it!” “But don’t forget, Con,” countered Neil, “Fabian’s real big, too!” “Neil,” I sighed, exasperated, “just how many girls in Brooklyn do you think have boyfriends with the name Fabian? C’mon you guys, get real! It’s gotta be Frankie! OK by you, Neil? How about you, Howie?” It was OK by both of them. So OK in fact, that we three would soon enjoy our second gold record together.

Francis, Connie. Among My Souvenirs: The Real Story Vol. 1 (Function). Kindle Edition.

Connie had recently turned twenty-one when she recorded this song, but I would swear on a stack of Bibles (oh, wait, I’m an atheist) . . . I would swear on my well-worn copy of Ulysses that the girl singing this song is a broken-hearted sweet sixteen. Her ability to vary her pitch and tone to suit the role imbues the character with a demure innocence that is exceptionally moving. Though I’m well past my teenage years, Connie took me back in time to that emotion-laden period and I found myself crying like a baby.

The song opens with a brief guitar riff, inspiring Connie to go off script. From Songfacts: “Francis recalls coming up with the spoken intro: “At the session, Ray Ellis is in the control room and someone else, I can’t recall who, was conducting. As soon as the guitar introduction began, I just up and said, ‘Frankie, wherever you are I love you.’ When Ray heard that he came over the intercom and said, ‘Oh, God. Connie, give me a break. This is going a little too far.’ But he finally agreed to leave that part in and so we did.” The line also appears at the end of the song, a nice balancing act. The classic Connie Francis key change (Eb to E) appears in the transition from the bridge to the closing verse, heightening the emotional impact.

“You’re Gonna Miss Me” (Curtis, 1959): I was crushed to learn that my personal favorite Connie Francis song failed to break the top 30 in the States and never charted in the U.K. I must have turned a dozen people into Connie Francis fans by playing this song, and the most common response was “Wow!”

My best guess is that the song was too sophisticated for the teens to dig it, and the men in the audience interpreted Connie’s confidence that her ex was gonna miss her as inappropriate conceit from a woman who should know her place. The melodies are gorgeous, the string arrangement is exceptional, and Connie’s phrasing is on par with Billie Holiday, spiced with brief, bluesy interjections. Her tone in the more restrained verses combines feelings of hurt and regret, while in the dramatic bridge, she expresses feelings of rejection with genuine concern that the guy is making a big mistake to part with someone who truly loves him. Alas, her pleas fall on deaf ears, and he will live to regret it.

Fuck the charts. This is a beautiful song featuring one of Connie’s best performances.

“Among My Souvenirs” (Leslie-Nichols, 1959): Paul Whiteman, Al Bowlly, Louis Armstrong, Marty Robbins, Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra, Joni James, Hank Snow, Marie Osmond, Ray Price . . . and a host of others. It seems that everyone who was anyone covered this 1927 song at one time or another, and nearly all of them were hits. Connie’s take made it to #7.

Connie delivers an empathetic performance directed at her teenage fans who likely experienced more than a few breakups as they navigated their way through the dating game. The key lines “I count them all apart and as the teardrops start/I find a broken heart among my souvenirs” would have encouraged them to let the tears flow, experience catharsis, and move on.

The only problem I have with the song is this: the souvenirs consist of old love letters, photographs, and “a rose from you.” I wish the song had ended with the wounded tossing all that crap into the fireplace.

SUBSTITUTION ALERT!!!

“Mama”(Bixio /Cherubini, 1960): The compilers blew it by including the Paul Anka composition “Teddie,” a weak repetition of “Frankie” that Connie described as a “loser.” Due to a communication breakdown, the song became the B-side to “Mama,” and Anka reneged on an agreement to split the publishing dollars 50-50. The last words Connie spoke to Anka were “Gotcha, Paul—go hug a landmine!” (Among My Souvenirs, ibid)

“Mama” broke into the top ten in the USA, U.K., Canada and Australia. Its absence tells me that the compilers were reluctant to include a song sung largely in Italian. Since this compilation was released in 1986, it’s possible they were unaware that Domenico Modugno’s “Nel blu, dipinto di blu” topped the charts in the USA for five non-consecutive weeks in 1958. Then again, they must have been aware that “Mama” outperformed the B-side by a country mile and that Connie’s best-selling album was Connie Francis Sings Italian Favorites. The truth is that “Mama” had a far greater impact on her career and should be included in every Connie Francis compilation album.

Connie had a lot going on in November 1959 with the release of Connie Francis Sings Italian Favorites, an appearance on The Perry Como Show on the 18th, and her first performance at Carnegie Hall on the 22nd. The day before the Como gig, manager George Scheck suggested that they cancel the performance at Carnegie Hall due to weak ticket sales. Connie and her father decided to take a let’s-see approach and revisit the suggestion after her television appearance. As to be expected, Connie and her father had completely different views as to what songs she would perform on the Como show: Connie wanted to sing “God Bless America” (the B-side to “Among My Souvenirs”), while papa wanted her to sing two songs from the Italian album, especially “Mama.” Perry Como was on her father’s side, so Connie reluctantly caved in. Once again, father knew best.

At the conclusion of my first fiery, passionate Italian song, “Scapriciatiello,” I was startled, caught totally off guard when the audience rose to its feet, shouting out a chorus of bravos in wild abandon. Wave upon undulating wave of unprecedented TV cheering engulfed me. The whistles and the thunderous applause continued for so long, that it was difficult for me to begin the second song, the ballad. But long ago, I’d learned an old show business trick: that whenever you want to raise an audience’s attention, if you speak or sing very softly, they’re compelled to listen, so that’s what I did. When I began the tender opening strains of “Mama,” there was a perceptible hush, an intense crackle swept through that studio. As I neared the end of the song, I was so misty-eyed, so caught up in the significance of the words, that I was totally unaware of the presence of another living soul. I felt as if I had just been to confession, and I knew that my heart had expressed itself well as I reverently sang the final words: “Until the day when we’re together once more.” The tumultuous, deafening roar that greeted Mama is what show people call a TV “happening”, one that I will never forget. The outpouring of love that I felt from that audience, caressed and flooded my senses. It was like that moment almost two years before, when Dick Clark first played “Who’s Sorry Now?” on Bandstand. I knew instantly that this moment was special, too, but in a very different way. I experienced a totally new, almost celestial oneness with my audience. It was as if we’d shared something very intimate; as if we’d both been touched in some secret, unchartered place where we’d never been touched before.

Francis, Connie. Among My Souvenirs: The Real Story Vol. 1 (Function). Kindle Edition.

And just like magic, a few days later Connie performed at Carnegie Hall to a sold-out crowd.

The lyrics are in English and Italian. I’ve never been able to get my head around Italian (too many vowels), so I had to resort to Google Translate for the interpretations. As I’ve learned from their Gaelic translations, the results are hit-and-miss, but at least you’ll get the gist.

When the evening shadows fall
And the lovely day is through
Then with longing I recall
The years I spent with you

Mama, solo per te la mia canzone vola (Mama, my song flies only for you)
Mama, sarai con me tu non sarai più sola (Mama, you’ll be with me—you’ll never be alone again)
Quanto ti voglio bene (How much I love you
Queste parole d’amore (These words of love)
Che ti sospira il mio cuore (That my heart whispers to you)
Forse non si usano più (Perhaps they aren’t used anymore)

Mama, ma la canzone mia più bella sei tu (Mama, but you are my most beautiful song)
Sei tu la vita (You are life itself)
E per la vita non ti lascio mai più (and for as long as I live, I will never leave you again)

Safe in the glow of your love
Sent from the heavens above
Nothing can ever replace
The warmth of your tender embrace

Oh, Mama, until the day that we’re together once more
I’ll live in these memories
Until the day that we’re together once more

Huge thanks are due to YouTuber Scott Rogers for cleaning up the video and audio and posting Connie’s performance of “Mama” on The Perry Como Show. I strongly advise you to grab a box of Kleenex before you hit the play button.

*****

Because Halloween and the end of Daylight Saving Time are back-to-back in most of the United States this year, I will publish Part 2 on Thursday, October 30, so Americans read it before getting drunk and grumpy. See you then!