"He would go and record a session, and it would be charged to him," Steve Blauner recalls. "He didn't pay at that moment, but before he saw any money, it was deducted from his royalties. In those days, you could make an album of 12 songs in three days, and it would cost about $25,000. So if he was getting a dollar an album -- and he wasn't, because in those days the albums sold for under five dollars -- and I think he had 5 percent of 90 percent. Plus, the 90 percent came from old deals when they were making shellac, and there would be breakage from shellac, so automatically you didn't get paid 10 percent. Of course now they were moving into 45 rpm's, and there was no more breakage, but they were still getting away with it. So he had 5 percent of 90 percent, whatever that came to. You had to sell a lot of those to make up the $25,000 before you started to get any money. So with 'Splish Splash' and his other hits, Atco owed him money. They knew this album would pay for itself, and so they went along with it."
From December 19 through 24,1958, Bobby recorded all the tracks for That's All, although the album would not be released until 1959, and no singles from it, including "Mack the Knife," the song that would immortalize him, were released until August 1959. Bobby did more than record the songs. "People say Sinatra was one of the only artists who ever produced and took a hand in his albums -- he didn't just get up and sing," says Hesh Wasser. "He really contributed, produced, collaborated, he did everything. Well, Bobby certainly did just as much in that ballpark, if not more. Bobby Scott would say, 'You write a chart for Bobby Darin, you're working with him. Because he's sitting there, he's telling you the notes.' He'd direct it all. And we're not talking about some 40-year-old. We're talking about someone who from day one, when he entered the studio, he always had control. That's why all these other artists -- Durante, Burns, Jack Benny -- were surprised and in awe of him from the beginning."
Dick Clark recalls that "Bobby and I were very close; we could say anything to one another. He called me once on the phone. He said, 'Listen to this record.' He plays 'Mack' over the phone. I listen and then he says, 'This is my next release.' I say, 'Are you out of your mind? What are you trying to be, a saloon singer? You're a rock-and-roll star, you're huge, you're on the roll. That's the sort of stuff you'd hear from a lounge lizard singer."
In February of that year, Steve Blauner and Bobby were at the Moulin Rouge in Los Angeles watching Jerry Lewis perform. "Somebody said there had been a phone call for Bobby," Blauner recalls. "And I didn't think anything of it, because I didn't know anybody knew where we were. And who would be calling Bobby? So I didn't pay any attention to it. After the show, we went to a Chinese restaurant on Sunset Boulevard and I said to him, 'You know, somebody said someone was trying to reach you. Isn't that strange?' So he said, 'Let me check at home.' He called New York and found out his mother [Polly] had died. So I put him on the plane next morning to go home for the funeral. And he buried her."
Polly, who had a heart condition that was a contributing factor in her being bedridden from her mid-40s on, died of a stroke. She was in her mid-60s.
---
Reprinted from: Roman Candle: The Life of Bobby Darin by David Evanier © 2004 by David Evanier. Permission granted by Rodale, Inc., Emmaus, PA 18098. Available wherever books are sold or directly from the publisher by calling (800) 848-4735 or visit their website at wwww.rodalestore.com.
For more information, please visit www.writtenvoices.com.
