search citypaper.net
  

					Also this issue: Worlds of Wonder “Cabinets of Curiosities” is a magical journey through time and spaces. -Robin Rice 20/20 Vision Snyderman Gallery celebrates 20 years in the furniture business. -Lori Hill “A Night at the Casbah” -Lori Hill Baseball panel discussion -Andrew Milner Louis Faurer: A Photographic Retrospective -John Vettese Sherman Alexie -John Freeman Bloomsday Celebration -Lori Hill A Picasso -David Anthony Fox

June 12-18, 2003

theater

Frankie Avalon

Interview by A.D. Amorosi

There is more to Frankie Avalon than his iconic status as a ’50s teen idol and ’60s cinematic beach god. Born Francis Avallone in South Philly in 1939, the handsome trumpeter-turned-singer has been at entertainment’s forefront for decades, locally and nationally, creating (along with folks like Bobby Rydell) a top-selling Philly sound before Gamble & Huff and working on legendary films from Samuel Arkoff’s B-movie studio, American International Pictures. Now living in Malibu and running a health-supplement company, Avalon, still sporting that mass of thick black hair, is also still very much in the biz, currently touring with a show he’ll always be associated with, Grease. The tour stops in Avalon’s hometown this week.

City Paper: As a kid of 10, you did places like Palumbo's and CR Club. What was it like being in the limelight as a child?

Frankie Avalon: When I started to play trumpet I was fortunate to learn very quickly. I was confident about it. Any chance I had to get in front of people -- amateur talent contests at movie houses like the Broadway, the president -- I took. Not because I was aggressive -- I was a shy kid. That was my crutch. I usually won the contests. Won a scooter. I auditioned for The Children's Hour when I was 11 in Philly and I won that too. I still have the plaque and the $25 savings bond. I wound up signing to RCA Victor as a trumpeter, guesting on shows like Jackie Gleason's Honeymooners. I was geared for a legitimate career in trumpeting, what with All City Orchestra and a scholarship at the Eastman School.

CP: So why singing?

FA: It was one summer, I was 12, I joined Rocco and the Saints. Their trumpet player left. Rocco paid me 35 bucks a week at Murray's Inn in South Jersey. People started asking Rocco to have me sing. He said he'd give me a $5 raise if I did it. We got signed from there, a Jersey label. But the records weren't moving -- to get on something like Bandstand you had to have a hit. We had one more record left on the contract. And we had a hit with "Dede Dinah." I didn't expect it. Didn't take it seriously. I went along for the ride. No sooner than I did take it seriously, I had million-selling hits and movies with John Wayne.

CP: You've got that clean-cut thing going. Ever rebel -- grow a beard, get freaky?

FA: I did want to. It wasn't accepted. I played a role where I was a killer. And the director thought it would be great because who would expect me to be a killer? To combat my goody-goody-ness, I suggested I wear a baseball cap for the first 30 minutes of the film. Why? The most recognizable part of me was my hair.

CP: So how did you happen on to Grease, the movie?

FA: I saw it on Broadway before the movie. It was '77 and I got a call for the movie. I didn't want to do it. The character was an extension of Presley -- leather jacket, long sideburns, the gyrations. But they wouldn't take no. So I met with Allan Carr and Randal Kleiser and told them I wanted something else. Something my style. So they said do it all in white, make it like heaven, make it like me singing "Bobby Sox to Stockings." Then I said yes.

CP: So you changed it. Impressive. With your money, the house in Malibu, why tour?

FA: Because, along with doing "Beauty School Dropout," I get to come out and interact with the audience, do numbers like "Venus" and "Why?" I get to take an audience not only through what Grease has become, but [through] my career. Kids know me from their Grease DVD, so they instantly respond. You can hear a pin drop when I do my old songs.

Grease runs June 17-22, $25-$72.50, Academy of Music, Broad and Locust sts., 215-893-1999.