Just My Type

By Mary Ellen

Oh, What A Night!

It’s often said that everyone has or will have at least 15 minutes of fame in their lives. Some people known for their talent, accomplishments, or philanthropy live in continuous fame. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting a few of those celebrated individuals.

In Branson, Missouri, renowned for its live entertainment, shopping, and attractions, I shook hands with Mel Tillis, Kenny Rogers, and Roy Clark. Brief encounters to be sure, but I have either a photo or autograph as mementos. In the political category, I shook hands with Jeb Bush, Janet Reno, and Fox News host and contributor Dana Perino.

The most fun was meeting Star Wars character Chewbacca. Although not an actual celebrity, he felt very real to me standing beside the eight-foot-tall hairy guy as we smiled for the camera. Or at least I think he smiled. Hard to tell with a Wookie.

On a local level, I met Bernadette Castro. A most gracious and lovely lady who in 1989 took time out from hosting a Castro Convertible showroom opening in New York to chat with me, as well as meeting Ocala resident, cameraman and independent natural history cinematographer Mark Emory. I’m still waiting to add John Travolta to this list.

Being a contributor and columnist for Ocala’s Good Life magazine has given me the opportunity to interview some famous folks such as Ocala Mayor Kent Guinn, drag racing legend “Big Daddy” Don Garlits, as well as horse whisperer and trapeze artist Sylvia Zerbini. But I’ll never forget the night I met Frankie Valli.

It was September 2, 1973. My sister and I had tickets for The Four Seasons’ performance at the Westbury Music Fair on Long Island, a unique theater-in-the-round. Fans went crazy when Valli took the stage. The entire audience was on their feet, dancing in place, and singing along as his famous falsetto voice crooned “Sherry,” “Walk Like A Man,” and “Let’s Hang On.” Then the music suddenly stopped, and we heard a startling announcement. A bomb threat had been made and everyone had to evacuate the theater immediately. Though disappointed Frankie’s performance was cut short, no one panicked, and we all exited into the cool night air and waited for further instructions.

Then I got an idea. “If we had to evacuate,” I said to my sister, “The Four Seasons had to evacuate too, right?” A smile spread across her face as she got my meaning, and we proceeded to walk around the theater in search of Frankie Valli.

It was a full house that night, so no one took notice of us as we made our way through the crowd milling about. Then we saw him just outside the stage door. No one stopped us as we walked up to the singer. I don’t even remember what we said, but I have Frankie’s autograph—as well as ones from band members Demetri Callas, Gerry Polci, and Murray The K—scribbled on scraps of paper hastily dug out of my handbag. The real highlight, though, was when Frankie Valli kissed me on the cheek!

Thankfully, no bomb was found—it was a false alarm—and we were let back in the theater to enjoy the rest of the show. And just like one of The Four Seasons’ greatest hits, “December 1963 (Oh, What A Night!),” I’ll never forget that night.

Or Frankie Valli’s kiss.