Bobby Darin:

"So You Want To Be a Singer"

I came into singing via a detour. I was interested in songwriting, and when I was in my teens I had a mania for banging out tunes by the dozen. I'd sit at the old-fashinoned upright piano in our apartment on East 135th Street in the Bronx and dream up what I called "happy music."

I wasn't very confident about my songs. But I had fun writing them. And I told the guys in my gang about them, even played some of them at neighborhood hops and get-togethers. This is where Lady Luck tapped my shoulder.

One of the neighborhood guys liked some of the songs. "They're pretty good for a beginner, Bobby," he kept telling me. One day he told someone about them who in turn mentioned my songwriting to someone else. Before you knew it, George Scheck (who's Connie Francis' manager) heard about me. He wanted new material for Connie. I played him my songs, and he said he liked them. He also said he liked the way I sang them. "Bobby," he finally told me, "do you know you're a singer -- as well as a songwriter?"

"Aw, cut it out," I said.

"Nope," he continued. "I'm not pulling your leg. I'd be the last person to encourage somebody in this cut-throat business. But you have a natural singing talent, and I'd like to see you develop it."

Well, George gave me plenty of confidence -- and encouragement. And I was lucky, believe me, to have one of my first records, "Million Dollar Baby," climb the sales charts to top twenty tunes. But I was such a novice in the business I didn't know how to follow it up. One hit record doesn't make a singer.

So then I decided if I was going to be a singer I had to give singing all my attention. I studied, learned breathing, how to use my voice without hurting it. Also, I figured it wouldn't be wrong to associate with people in the business. Harriet Wasser, a good friend of mine, calls them 'ego builders,' They're the people who give you pats on the back and tell you to keep up the good work.

But while you're studying, there's little money coming in, and lots of friends desert you. Still, there are always some people who really care, and you find out who your real friends are when you're down and out.

One girl I knew called me up and said, "Bobby, I know you haven't had a hit record. And maybe you're broke. So why don't we have dinner together -- on me!"

I was bowled over. I was penniless, borrowing money to keep up with my singing studies, hoping I'd have another hit soon -- and naturally, I didn't have much opportunity to date. I lived with my mom and she gave me room and board. But it wasn't fair to ask her for spending money, too. Anyway, she didn't have much.

So when the girl called, I broke down and bawled like a kid. I didn't know people could be so decent when a fellow was on his heels. I said no, I couldn't have dinner. I was ashamed to have her take me out. But she insisted. I refused. Yet she called again and again. Finally one day when she called I said okay, and we went to the Floridian, a steak-and-potatoes place here in New York and I sat across from her and told her all about my ambitions and dreams.

I say she was Lady Luck No. 2 because later that week I recorded "Splish Splash" which caught on overnight.

But, still, it hasn't always been smooth sailing. Why? Well, a singer's always thinking of his next record, wondering if it's all right, if it'll please his listeners.

So if you want to be a singer, be sure you have friends. Because these are the people who will listen to your heartaches and woes, and they're the ones who'll give you confidence to keep at it -- even when the going is roughest.

And keep your fingers crossed for luck!

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