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HALL D F FAME

D ion

By Michael Hill

D lO N DiM UCCI was bom in in 1939 and was raised there in group. The Schwartz brothers pushed Dion and in a sup­ the borough’s own Little Italy. He showed a gift for singing at an early per-club direction. Their W hen You Wish upon a Star contained age, much to the delight o f his parents, w ho encouraged him to perform. only standards. The group had lost its momentum, and Dion, eager to re­ His first love was Hank W illiams, the artist who lured him into a Ford' turn to rock 6? roll, launched a solo career. ham Road record store, where he discovered more than just country “Lonely Teenager,” Dion’s first solo hit, went Top Twenty, but his western. A s he recalls in The Wanderer, which he published last year, “I first album, Alone with Dion, still bore traces o f the Belmonts’ Tin Pan was picking up influences from all over the place, mixing in early RfePB Alley side. It wasn’t until 1961, when he co-wrote “” w ith doo-wop. Fats Domino, Jerry Lee Lewis, and, o f course, w ith , that Dion happened upon a sound and a Elvis. In other words, like every other teenager in America, I was discov' style he could truly call his own. “Runaround Sue” had a loose, sing- ering rock ’n’ roll.” along feel; Dion himself is hardly the plaintive teenager but a confident - Angelo D ’A leo, Fred M ilano and Carlo belter who buddies up to the microphone as if he were swapping stories Mastrangelo — discovered rock fe? roll together, as well as an affinity for w ith his pals at the local bar. “Runaround Sue” reached Number One on four-part harmonies. Dion, a tenor, became the lead singer. They were at the pop charts and was followed by the that would become Dion’s first just a neighborhood thing; they had taken their name from nearby signature, “The Wanderer,” written by Maresca. Belmont Avenue. But they set their sights on mote than street-comer Dion made a brief foray to Hollywood to try his hand at the movies, singing. D ion’s father, eager to help his son break into the big time, ar­ but he spent most o f his time touring. He enjoyed three Top Ten hits in ranged for him to meet a neighborhood man with alleged music-busi­ 1962: “Lovers W ho Wander,” “” and “.” ness connections. By 1963, he had been wooed away from Laurie by , Dion soon found himself at the Manhattan offices of Mohawk Rec­ which offered him a lucrative five-year contract. Dion made his debut on ords, a shoestring operation run by tw o accountant brothers, Bob and Columbia w ith “,” a remake o f a Drifters’ song, w ith the same Gene Schwartz;. Dion auditioned by singing ’ “W onderful spontaneous feeling as his best work. A s he recalls, “It was all funky Girl”; the Schwartzes made Dion the second artist on their roster. The acoustic guitar, hand claps, foot stomps and a strolling bass line that broke Belmonts, however, weren’t part o f the package at first; the Schwartz into syncopated skips as the tune came round for the finish.” brothers wanted Dion to sing over a track prerecorded by a vocal group .“ ,” his next entry into the Top Ten, was a called the Timberlanes. His debut, “The Chosen Few,” actually good-natured sendup o f a local girl with a serious attitude problem. The caused a little stir in Boston. That was enough encouragement for album o f the same name, Dion feels, is a tribute to the music of the Dion to quit school and plunge into his career full time. He told the streets, to “the charge I got from that glorious Crotona Avenue noise.” It Schwartz brothers, however, that the Timberlanes had to go and was also a climax o f sorts, the close o f a chapter in Dion’s career. W ith brought in the Belmonts for an audition. the onset o f the , Dion, like many o f his peers, faded from In early 1958, Dion and the Belmonts recorded “I W onder W hy,” an the spotlight W hen he reemerged in 1968, after overcoming a series of appealingly adolescent evocation o f the mysteries o f love. By then, the personal setbacks, he embraced a more introspective, folk-based style. He Schwartz brothers had discarded M ohawk for a more mellifluous name, accompanied himself on acoustic guitar and sang in a mellowed voice that Laurie^ ahd found themselves w ith their first hit. “I W onder W hy” still had that vulnerable edge. reached Number Twenty-two on the pop chart, and Dion and the Bel­ He went back to where he had started, , after staff pro­ monts became the closest thing in real life to an overnight'sensation. ducer Phil Gemhard asked him to do a song he’d found, “Abraham, Mar­ Am ong their first public appearances was a spot on American Bandstand. tin and John.” The single reached Number Four on the pop charts, Dion’s From there, they embarked on a rigorous tour. ten th T o p T e n song. Their subsequent singles, “N o One Knows” and “Don’t Pity Me,” Dion released a folkish version o f Jimi Hendrix’s “” and re­ made it into the Top Forty, but Dion and the Belmonts didn’t enjoy Top corded an album that included covers o f Joni Mitchell and Bob Dylan Ten success until the following year, when Laurie released a D oc Pomus- tunes. He began to tour a different circuit, from the Troubadour, in L A ., M ort Shuman number called “.” In the winter of to the Bitter End, in N ew York City. By 1969, he had signed with 1959, as “A Teenager in Love” was moving up the charts, Dion and the 'W arner Bros., recording Ifit D ow n , O ld F rien d, Y o u ’re J\[ot A lo n e and Belmonts joined a package tour called the W inter Dance Party, which Sanctuary. In late 1973, he reunited with the Belmonts for a single per­ featured , and . W hen Buddy formance at Madison Square Garden - “no rehearsals, no nothing, just Holly became fed up with sleeping on the frigid tour bus and decided to me, the guys, the old , and a house packed with fans” — that was rent a small plane to take him to the next gig, he asked Dion if he’d like to preserved o n W a rn e r B ros.’ R eun ion . join him. Dion, who was only nineteen, balked at paying thirty-five dol­ Despite the stylistic twists and turns o f Dion’s ongoing career, he has lars, a month’s rent in the Bronx. It wasn’t until the next morning, when always sung what he calls “the Bronx blues,” the sound of a guy who he arrived in Fargo, North Dakota, that Dion learned o f the fatal plane sings w ith a swagger and harbors his heartbreak inside. You can hear the crash that took the lives o f his fellow tour members. Bronx blues in Bruce Springsteen’s hit-the-road dramas, in Lou Reed’s Dion and the Belmonts’ elegant version o f the Rodgers and Hart stand­ street scenes, in the boasting o f today’s rappers and in the voice o f every ard “W here or W hen,” released in 1960, brought them to Number artist, regardless o f age, w ho just has to sing about what it feels Three on the pop chart, but it was the beginning of the end for the 5 like to be a teenager in love.