RIP: JAYE P. MORGAN

Talented actress, and game show panelist Jaye P. Morgan passed away on August 24, 2026 at age 94. In 1953, Morgan made a recording of "Life Is Just a Bowl of Cherries" issued by Derby Records, which made it to #26 on the U.S. Billboard record chart. Soon after, she received an RCA Victor recording contract, and she had five hits in one year, including her biggest hit "That's All I Want from You", which reached #3 on the chart. Her other notable hits included "There's a Dream in My Heart" by Rolande Maxwell Young, "The Longest Walk", and "Pepper Hot Baby".

After spending six years with RCA Victor, Morgan joined MGM Records in 1959. From 1954 to 1955, Morgan was a vocalist on the ABC television series show Stop the Music. In November 1955, the British music magazine, NME, reported that Morgan was the top female vocalist in the U.S. Cash Box poll. Beginning January 11, 1954, she was a featured singer on the Robert Q. Lewis Show on CBS-TV. In 1956, she had her own show, The Jaye P. Morgan Show, and made guest appearances on a number of other variety shows. She was a charter member of the Robert Q. Lewis "gang" on Lewis's weekday program on CBS, and was featured on a special episode of The Jackie Gleason Show in which Lewis's entire company substituted for the vacationing Gleason. In 1958, Morgan appeared on ABC's Pat Boone Chevy Showroom. On October 6, 1960, she guest starred on NBC's The Ford Show, Starring Tennessee Ernie Ford. In 1961, Morgan was cast as Sally Dwight in the episode "Money and the Minister" of the CBS anthology series, General Electric Theater, hosted by Ronald Reagan. In 1962, she played Patty Maxwell in "Patti's Tune" of the CBS military sitcom-drama Hennesey, starring Jackie Cooper. That same year, she was cast as Kitty Flanders in "That's Showbiz" on NBC's The Joey Bishop Show. In 1964, she portrayed the character Ruth Evans in the episode "Sunday Father" of the NBC medical drama The Eleventh Hour.

Although Morgan continued to spend considerable time in the 1960s and 1970s performing in nightclubs, she also continued to make additional appearances on television as well as in films. In 1964, she guest-starred on CBS's My Three Sons as Susan Duvall in the episode "Second Chorus” and in 1966 “A Falling Star", playing the fading singer Claudia Farrell. Later, in 1973, Morgan played herself in the episode "The Songwriter" of the sitcom The Odd Couple. That year she also appeared as Magda Valentine in the film The All-American Boy. She performed the theme song, "Coming into My Own," of the short-lived NBC situation comedy Fay, starring Lee Grant, which aired from 1975 to 1976. In 1978, Morgan guest-starred on The Muppet Show and sang "That Old Black Magic" as a duet with Dr. Teeth. 

Morgan made numerous appearances on The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson during this period, and in the 1980s and into the early 1990s she performed again on the big screen, working in supportive roles in films such as Loose Shoes (1980), Night Patrol (1984), and Home Alone 2: Lost in New York (1992). Morgan largely retired in 1992...

RIP: DOLLY PARTON

Dolly Parton, who rose from a loving if impoverished upbringing in the mountains of East Tennessee to become the “Queen of Country” music, a Hollywood star and a beloved American icon, has died, her family announced on Tuesday. Parton was 80.

Parton’s nephew, Brian Seaver, announced the news in a video posted on her Instagram. He did not provide details about her death.

“My name is Brian Seaver, son of Cassie Parton, and I’m representing the Parton and Owens family today announcing the passing of my aunt, Dolly Rebecca Parton Dean, Sister, Sis and Granny to one generation and Gigi to the next,” Seaver said in a video.

“This video announcement is something Dolly asked of me years ago, before I fully absorbed it as a future reality. As her head of security for more than two decades, a role my father Larry held before me, I have imagined the heaviness of this moment but haven’t truly felt it til now,” he added.

Seaver added that Dolly “lived in the light and is in the arms of Jesus, surely met by Carl, her parents, and countless others.”

Her death comes after Parton suddenly announced in May 2026 that she was canceling a Las Vegas show and said she'd been undergoing treatment for kidney stones for several years.

"Lord, they dig more stones out of me a year than the rock quarry in Rockwood, Tennessee," Parton said in a statement. "But seriously, my immune system and my digestive system got all out of whack over the past couple three years, and they’re working real hard on rebuilding and strengthening those and hopefully I’ll be up to snuff again soon."

During her more than 60-year career, Parton sold more than 100 million records and won 11 Grammy Awards, making her one of the bestselling musical performers of all time.

Parton also became a star on the silver screen, gaining a whole new audience and critical acclaim when she brought her Southern charm to movies like “9 to 5” (she wrote and sang the theme song), “Steel Magnolias” and "The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas."

Bedecked in blonde bouffant hairdos and never without her makeup, Parton also became one of the nation’s best known brands who parried questions about her hourglass figure and augmented breasts with her signature self-deprecating wit.

“It costs a lot of money to look this cheap,” Parton once said.Dolly Parton in 1970. Michael Ochs

Parton was also a shrewd businesswoman who amassed an estimated $650 million fortune and maintained creative control in the cutthroat and male-dominated music industry. She presided over an entertainment empire that included the Dollywood theme park. And she was a devoted philanthropist who launched the Dollywood Foundation to provide poverty relief and fund educational programs in her native East Tennessee.

Through it all, Parton leaned on the love of her life, her husband Carl Thomas Dean, who died in March 2025 at age 82 and who, from the moment they married in 1966, happily ceded the spotlight to his world-famous wife.

“Words can’t do justice to the love we shared for over 60 years,” Parton said in July 2025.Dolly Parton in a rare photo with her husband, Carl Thomas Dean. dollyparton.com

Born January 19, 1946, in a one-room cabin on the banks of the Little Pigeon River near the town of Sevierville, Parton was the fourth of 12 children. Her father, Robert Lee Parton, could not read or write and often supplemented the family's meager income from their farm by working constructions jobs. Her mother, Avie Lee Parton, ran the household and was fond of singing traditional Appalachian ballads. The future superstar said it was her mother who instilled in her a love for music.

And it was at church that Parton first started performing. By age 13, Parton was singing on local radio and television shows and made her debut at the Grand Ole Opry, where she met Johnny Cash.

“Dolly Parton has one of the most distinctive voices in American pop music,” Katherine Dacey, a professor at the Berklee College of Music, told NBC News before Parton’s death was announced. “Her high soprano voice gets its distinctive character from her fast vibrato and vocal twang.”Dolly Parton performs in 1976.

The day after she graduated from Sevier County High School in 1964, Parton headed to Nashville where she first made her mark writing songs for other performers, some of them with her uncle Bill Owens.

In songs like “Tennessee Homesick Blues” and “Coat of Many Colors,” Parton drew inspiration from her hardscrabble childhood.

Three years after leaving school, Parton released her first record, “Hello, I'm Dolly” and caught the attention of country star Porter Wagoner and became a regular on his shows.

Then, in 1974, Parton broke out on her own when she topped the country charts for the first time with a song she wrote and performed called “Jolene.” She later revealed it was inspired by a bank teller who flirted with her husband when they were newlyweds.

Her next four singles were also country chart toppers and one of them, “I Will Always Love You,” later became a huge hit for Whitney Houston in 1992.

In 1977, Parton released her first self-produced album “New Harvest...First Harvest” and became the first female country artist to have an album sell over a million copies.

Parton also won her first Grammy with a single from that record called “Here You Come Again.”Parton performing in 1995. Hollywood beckoned and 1980 Parton made her film debut in “9 to 5” which earned her two Golden Globe nominations for her acting and Oscar nomination for the title song, which many consider a feminist anthem.

Parton, who earned a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame in 1984, made several more movies and performed around the world, but she always returned to the music that first made her famous — and to the hollers of East Tennessee where she was born and where she and her husband made their home.

“Never ignore your roots — your home or your hair,” she once said.

In 1986, Parton opened the Dollywood theme park in the Great Smokey Mountains near her hometown. The 165 acres includes rollercoasters, a bald eagle sanctuary and music and crafts that pay tribute to the region's Appalachian heritage.Parton at Dollywood in Pigeon Forge, Tenn., in 1988.Ron Davis / Getty 

Parton and her husband never had children of their own. And in public statements, Parton said she “believed that God didn’t mean for me to have kids.” Dolly is the godmother of Miley Cyrus.

Parton's philanthropic legacy also included the creation of the Imagination Library, which mails free books to children around the world. In the three decades since it was founded, the organization has mailed more than 300 million books to kids around the U.S., as well as Canada, Australia, the United Kingdom and the Republic of Ireland...

ROBERT PRESTON: THE ACTOR WHO SANG BY NOT SINGING

My wife can not stomach the singing of Robert Preston, which is unfortunate because The Music Man is one of my favorite musicals. When audiences think of The Music Man, they often hear Robert Preston’s rapid‑fire patter and charismatic swagger long before they recall any classical vocal runs. Preston wasn’t a traditional singer, and that is precisely what made him unforgettable. His voice didn’t soar; it drove. He didn’t croon; he spoke his melodies into existence. And in doing so, he delivered one of the most iconic musical‑theater performances of all time.

Despite a widespread belief that he “couldn’t sing,” Preston actually entered show business with real musical knowledge. He was a trained musician who played several instruments before turning his focus fully to acting, giving him a strong sense of rhythm even if he didn’t possess a typical vocalist’s range.

Still, instrumental skill did not automatically translate to vocal confidence. Unlike his Broadway peers, Preston was not known for vocal bravado. So when he was cast as Harold Hill in Meredith Willson’s The Music Man in 1957, many saw his lack of conventional singing experience as a gamble. 

Preston’s genius emerged not in the form of classical singing but in the way he shaped music through character. Musical‑theater fans often highlight that certain lead roles—Harold Hill among them—are written for performers who rely more on rhythm, personality, and timing than on sustained melodic lines. According to theater enthusiasts, Preston’s performance essentially established Harold Hill as a “singing‑second” role, one that thrives on speak‑singing rather than operatic technique.

This became especially clear in numbers like “Ya Got Trouble,” which demands relentless pacing, breath control, and clarity more than it requires smooth, lyrical singing. Preston delivered these with electrifying energy, using cadence and character to transform the song into one of musical theater’s great showpieces. 

Over the years, stories circulated claiming that Preston had never sung in public before The Music Man. Some fans insisted he had “no singing background” and that his performance was a triumph of pure storytelling over traditional vocal talent.

The truth is somewhat more nuanced. While he wasn’t a classically trained vocalist, he had already performed Harold Hill on Broadway hundreds of times—and even won a Tony Award for the role—before reprising it in the 1962 film.

What is true is that Preston approached singing primarily as an actor. Rather than shape his character around musical lines, he shaped his musical delivery around the character. This inversion became his signature strength. 

Preston’s success came from qualities that had little to do with traditional vocal range. His phrasing, timing, and emotional precision allowed him to turn songs into performance pieces rather than vocal showcases. In “‘Til There Was You,” for instance, he embraced sincerity rather than vocal fireworks, carefully phrasing his lines opposite Shirley Jones’s polished soprano. Fans and commentators often note how surprisingly tender the moment becomes, despite his limited range.

His unconventional vocal approach made his version of Harold Hill so definitive that many later performers have chosen to imitate his speak‑singing rather than attempt a more melodic or classically trained interpretation. 

Robert Preston’s career defies the idea that musical‑theater success requires a pitch‑perfect voice. His performance as Harold Hill earned him a Tony Award, a Golden Globe nomination, and a permanent place in Broadway and Hollywood history. He proved that in musical storytelling, authenticity can matter more than technique. What he lacked in classical singing ability, he made up for with magnetic personality, impeccable timing, and unmatched stage presence. His voice may not have soared, but it captivated. And in the world of musical theater, that can matter far more than hitting a perfect high note...

THE LAST DAYS OF JANIS JOPLIN

On October 3, 1970, Janis Joplin walked down the quiet hallway of Hollywood’s Landmark Motor Hotel, a new pack of cigarettes in her hand. A clerk later described her as friendly, but restless an image that now feels haunting.

That day, she had been making phone calls that went unanswered. Her brightly painted Porsche sat outside untouched, a symbol of her wild energy, even as her own seemed to dim. She told her producer about recording “Buried Alive in the Blues” the next morning, speaking with the same enthusiasm that had fueled her career. But as the hours passed, her spark faded into silence.

On stage, Janis was pure fire her voice raw, fierce, unforgettable. But when the spotlight turned off, loneliness often crept in. She reached out to old friends, searched for company, and found herself alone once more. Every missed call, every canceled plan, pressed harder on her heart.

She still found the strength to share a joke with the hotel staff before retreating to her room for the last time. By morning, the door would never open again. At just 27 years old, her life ended in that small space, leaving behind unfinished songs, unspoken words, and the ache of what might have been.

Joplin's sister Laura said "the heroin Janis used that night she had purchased around 4PM that afternoon from George, her supplier for as long as she used the drug. She was careful to use only one supplier, and he was careful about what he sold," Laura wrote in Love, Janis. "Usually, he had a chemist check the drug before he sold it. For that batch, the chemist had been out of town. He had sold the dope without checking it. The dope Janis had bought that Saturday was four to 10 times stronger than normal street heroin. It was 40-to-50 percent pure."

The official report called it a heroin overdose. But those who knew her best believed it was more than that, it was the weight of rejection, the hunger for love, and the scars she carried long before the fame.
Janis Joplin’s voice still echoes, not only in her music but in her story: a reminder that behind even the brightest flames, there can be fragile souls yearning simply to belong...

FRANK SINATRA IN 1994

At age 78, Frank Sinatra stood on stage before 20,000 fans — but something wasn’t right. Midway through a song, he faltered. The words, so familiar for decades, slipped from his memory. He paused, apologized softly, and began to walk off. For a moment, the silence in the arena was heavy. It felt like the quiet end of a monumental career.

But then, from the stillness, a single voice rose: “All right, Frank! Because we love you!” The words echoed through the venue, and suddenly the entire audience erupted in applause. It wasn’t polite. It was powerful, roaring, full of warmth. It reached Sinatra like a lifeline, reminding him of who he was and what he meant to people.

Moved by the outpouring, Sinatra turned around, walked back to the microphone, and dove into “Mack the Knife.” The performance that followed had all the old swagger, strength, and soul — a glimpse of the young crooner who had once commanded every room he entered. It was not a comeback. It was a reaffirmation.

That night didn't just save a performance. It extended a legend. Sinatra went on to sing for two more years, continuing to tour despite age, health, and doubt. What might have been his final curtain became one of the most touching moments of his career — not because of perfection, but because of the grace in imperfection.

Frank Sinatra may have been the Chairman of the Board, but in that moment, he was simply a man lifted by love. And thanks to one voice in the dark, the song — and the singer — went on."

THE RISE AND FALL OF BETTY HUTTON: A STORY OF STARDOM, STRUGGLE, AND ESTRANGEMENT

Betty Hutton wasn’t just a performer—she was a force of nature. Her explosive presence on stage and screen in the 1940s made her one of Paramount’s most valuable stars. Yet behind the dazzling performances lay a life marked by hardship, addiction, emotional turmoil, and ultimately estrangement from her own daughters.

Elizabeth June Thornburg, known later to the world as Betty Hutton, was born in 1921 into a life of instability. Her father abandoned the family when she was two, and her mother supported her daughters by running an illegal speakeasy during Prohibition. Betty began performing for patrons as early as age three, singing to help her mother make ends meet. This turbulent childhood shaped her bold, frenetic performance style and planted the seeds of the emotional struggles that followed her into adulthood. 

Hutton’s natural charisma carried her from Detroit nightclubs to Broadway stages, where shows like Two for the Show and Panama Hattie launched her into the national spotlight. Her success on Broadway attracted Hollywood studios, and Paramout quickly turned her into one of its most bankable stars. She dazzled audiences in The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek (1944) and delivered an unforgettable performance as Annie Oakley in Annie Get Your Gun (1950). 

But even at the height of her fame, Hutton’s life behind the scenes was far from glamorous. She struggled with deep insecurity and relied increasingly on prescription drugs and alcohol to cope with the pressures of stardom.

By the late 1950s and 1960s, Hutton’s career momentum gave way to personal crisis. Conflicts with studios, dwindling opportunities, and her battles with substance abuse accelerated her decline. Reporting from the BBC shows that after her acting and singing engagements dried up, she fell into periods of severe drug addiction and alcoholism. In 1967, she was fired from two Paramount film projects and soon afterward suffered a nervous breakdown and attempted suicide. 

These struggles devastated not just her career but also her relationships—especially with her children.
The estrangement between Hutton and her daughters remains one of the most painful aspects of her story. While only her daughters know the full truth, several well-documented factors help explain the rift.

One of the most consistent explanations is emotional neglect. According to a BBC Radio 2 biography, her children felt she neglected them and never learned how to nurture them. Hutton herself admitted that her career was her “child,” an admission that underscores the emotional distance her daughters experienced growing up. 

Her battles with addiction created further instability within the home. Years of substance abuse, mental health crises, and unpredictable behavior inevitably strained her ability to maintain healthy and supportive relationships with her daughters, compounding their feelings of abandonment and emotional hurt. 

Hutton also made remarks that wounded her daughters deeply. One widely discussed example was her public statement that “my children didn’t bring me happiness,” made when her youngest daughter was only thirteen—a comment that, according to observers, may have shattered the last remaining trust left in the relationship. 

Those who knew her or commented on her interviews described her as someone who struggled to take responsibility for her actions. Her daughters may have viewed her behavior as self-centered, making emotional reconciliation difficult. This perception, combined with the turmoil of their upbringing, likely contributed to their decision to distance themselves, even choosing not to attend her funeral—a testament to the depth of the estrangement.

By the 1970s, Hutton’s life had entirely unraveled. She found herself destitute, without work, and without the family relationships she once had. In desperation, she accepted shelter in a Rhode Island rectory, working for room and board while beginning the long process of rebuilding her life from scratch. 

Her story could have ended there, forgotten and tragic. But Hutton possessed a resilience forged from childhood hardship. Remarkably, she reinvented herself, eventually earning a master’s degree in psychology from Salve Regina University and later teaching acting at Emerson College. Her return to the stage in 1980, when she briefly replaced Alice Ghostley in the Broadway musical Annie, marked a symbolic moment of recovery, showing she still had the spark that once made her a star. 

Betty Hutton’s life was a tapestry of exhilarating highs and devastating lows. She brought joy to millions through her performances, defined an era of Hollywood musicals with her explosive presence, and endured personal struggles that often overshadowed her triumphs. Her story is one of incredible talent, profound wounds, and the painful consequences of emotional and psychological battles she could never fully overcome.

The estrangement from her daughters remains a somber chapter, yet it also reflects the complex and often unseen human cost behind the bright lights of fame. In the end, Betty Hutton’s legacy is not just one of entertainment history—it is a reminder of the fragility behind even the most dazzling stars...

ETHEL WATERS: A TRAILBLAZING VOICE

Ethel Waters (October 31, 1896 – September 1, 1977) was a pioneering American singer and actress whose life and career broke barriers and reshaped the cultural landscape of the 20th century. Born in Chester, Pennsylvania, Waters overcame a childhood marked by poverty and hardship to become one of the most influential performers in blues, jazz, and theater.

 
Waters was born into extreme poverty and faced a turbulent upbringing. She was married at the age of 12 and began working as a chambermaid in Philadelphia by 13. That same year, she sang publicly for the first time in a local nightclub. By 17, she was performing professionally in Baltimore under the stage name “Sweet Mama Stringbean,” and became the first woman to sing W.C. Handy’s “St. Louis Blues” on stage. Her talent quickly propelled her to New York City, where she performed at Harlem’s Plantation Club in 1925. This led to her Broadway debut and a series of successful stage performances, including the all-Black revue Africana in 1927, Blackbirds in 1930, and Rhapsody in Black in 1931. 

In 1933, Waters broke racial barriers by appearing in Irving Berlin’s As Thousands Cheer, her first show with a mixed-race cast. Her rendition of “Heat Wave” became iconic, and she was soon collaborating with jazz legends like Duke Ellington and Benny Goodman. Songs like “Dinah” and “Stormy Weather” became closely associated with her.

Waters transitioned into dramatic roles with great success. Her first major acting role came in Mamba’s Daughters (1939), followed by a season on Broadway in Cabin in the Sky, which she also starred in for the 1943 film adaptation. Her most acclaimed performance was in The Member of the Wedding (1950), earning her the New York Drama Critics’ Circle Award. She reprised the role in the 1952 film version. Her film career included notable roles in Cairo (1942), Pinky (1949)—for which she received an Academy Award nomination—and The Sound and the Fury (1959). 

Waters was a trailblazer in many respects: she was the first African American woman to star in her own television show and the first to be nominated for a Primetime Emmy Award. Her autobiography, His Eye Is on the Sparrow (1951), became a bestseller and offered a candid look into her life and faith. 

In the 1960s, Waters became deeply religious and frequently appeared alongside evangelist Billy Graham in his crusades. Though her later years were marked by health challenges, her legacy endured through her groundbreaking achievements in music, theater, and film.

Ethel Waters’s life was a testament to resilience, talent, and the power of breaking barriers. From the slums of Philadelphia to the heights of Broadway and Hollywood, she carved a path for future generations of African American performers and left an indelible mark on American culture...

DOCUMENTARY: THE LIFE AND LEGACY OF BUDDY CLARK

FORGOTTEN ONES: EDDIE CANTOR

Eddie Cantor, born Isidore Itzkowitz in 1892, was one of the most influential entertainers of the early 20th century. Known for his expressive "Banjo Eyes," comedic timing, and musical hits like Makin’ Whoopee and If You Knew Susie, Cantor was a household name across vaudeville, Broadway, radio, and early television. Yet behind the cheerful persona and philanthropic efforts lay a more complex and sometimes controversial figure whose legacy is not without shadows.

Cantor was at the center of what is considered one of television’s earliest acts of censorship. In 1944, during a live broadcast, NBC abruptly cut the audio and shifted the camera away as Cantor performed a song with suggestive lyrics and a comedic dance. The network deemed the material potentially offensive, sparking a public dispute. Cantor, furious at the last-minute censorship, accused NBC of acting like “little Hitlers,” highlighting the tension between creative freedom and broadcast standards in the early days of television. 

This wasn’t the first time Cantor faced censorship. NBC admitted it had previously silenced him, though details remain vague. Cantor’s frustration reflected a broader struggle entertainers faced in balancing humor, innuendo, and public decency during a rapidly evolving media landscape.

Like many performers of his era, Cantor used blackface in his early vaudeville routines—a practice now widely condemned for its racist caricatures and dehumanizing portrayals. His character “Jefferson,” created in 1912, was part of a tradition that perpetuated harmful stereotypes. While Cantor later advocated for racial equality and supported Black performers like Sammy Davis Jr., his early career remains a troubling reminder of the entertainment industry’s complicity in systemic racism. 

Cantor was unusually outspoken for a celebrity of his time, especially regarding his Jewish identity and opposition to Nazism. In the late 1930s, he used his radio platform to denounce fascism and support Jewish refugees. This activism came at a cost—his sponsor canceled his show in 1939, a move widely interpreted as retaliation for his political stance. Cantor’s willingness to speak out, even when it jeopardized his career, marked him as a courageous but polarizing figure. 

Despite his success, Cantor wrestled with the limitations of his public persona. Typecast as a naive, effeminate character in films well into his forties, he sought to reshape his image as a serious and intelligent figure. His efforts to support Jewish causes and redefine his legacy often clashed with the comedic roles that had made him famous. 

Cantor’s immense popularity faded rapidly after his death in 1964. Though he was once one of the most bankable stars in Hollywood, today he is largely forgotten—a phenomenon some scholars attribute to his hybrid identity as both singer and comedian, which defied easy categorization. His contributions to entertainment and activism are undeniable, but his legacy remains complicated by the cultural norms of his time and the contradictions within his career...

DICK HAYMES: THE TROUBLED CROONER

In the golden age of crooners, Dick Haymes’s voice was velvet. Born in Buenos Aires in 1918 to a rancher father and a musically inclined Irish mother, Haymes seemed destined for the stage. By the 1940s, he was one of America’s most beloved vocalists, rivaling Frank Sinatra and Perry Como. His duets with Helen Forrest and Judy Garland lit up wartime radios, and his performances in musicals like State Fair made him a Hollywood darling.

But behind the spotlight, Haymes’s life was a symphony of heartbreak.

He never served in World War II — not out of defiance, but because he was technically an Argentine citizen. This led to public backlash and even a deportation scare. The press painted him as unpatriotic, and the stain lingered.

His personal life was a carousel of marriages and divorces. He wed six times, including to screen legends Rita Hayworth and Joanne Dru. Each union brought glamour, but also turbulence. Haymes battled alcoholism, and as the 1950s ushered in television and rock ’n’ roll, his style fell out of favor. The man who once filled concert halls now struggled to fill a lounge

Financial woes mounted. He declared bankruptcy, and at one point, was arrested for unpaid child support. The crooner who sang of dreams and devotion was drowning in legal battles and loneliness.

Yet, in the twilight of his life, Haymes found a flicker of redemption. He toured Europe, where audiences still revered his voice. Though he never reclaimed his American stardom, he sang until the end — a voice weathered by time, but still rich with emotion.

Dick Haymes died in 1980, aged 61. His legacy, like his life, is bittersweet: a reminder that fame is fleeting, but artistry endures...

THE LAST DAYS OF AL JOLSON

Seventy five years ago...Al Jolson, Harry Akst and Martin Fried arrived in San Francisco on October 23, 1950, taking an afternoon flight from Los Angeles. Jolson was scheduled to appear as a guest on the Bing Crosby Radio Show and after booking into St. Francis Hotel they had a seafood dinner at Fisherman's Wharf.

On returning to their hotel, they played cards for a while before Jolson said: "I'm feeling a bit tired. Think I'll just have a lie down . . . Do Jolie a favour, Marty, willya? Call room service and get me some bicarbonate of soda - I have a little indigestion."

Harry decided to call for the house doctor. There were two, but both were on call. Remembering a name his physician had given him, Al told Harry: "Look up Dr. Kerr and ask him to come over."

Dr. Kerr answered the call: "It'll take some time to get there."

"You don't understand, doctor. This is Al Jolson and it's an emergency," said Harry.

Jolson waved his hands: "You crazy bastard! You want everybody to read in the papers tomorrow morning that Al Jolson had to get a doctor for indigestion?" T

he doctor heard and assured him: "Don't worry, I'll be there in half an hour."

Al turned to his friend, "Harry, I'm not going to last." Harry recalled, "My heart jumped. I looked down and saw he had been taking his pulse. I said: 'Al, don't talk that way. It'll pass. It's nothing but indigestion.'"

The hotel nurse arrived first. "Don't tell me this is the patient . . ." she started cheerfully - Al was still tanned from Palm Springs.

"Nurse," said Al, "I've got no pulse."

She took his wrist: "You've got a pulse like a baby."

The house physician also arrived about the same time as Dr. Kerr. "I'm a little embarrassed about this, gentlemen," Jolson said as the two doctors got ready to examine him.

First they asked him what he had done that day and what he had eaten. "Pull up a couple of chairs and let's talk," Jolson told them. Two chairs were brought and Dr. Kerr told him how much he admired him: "I saw you in London in 1929."

Al joked: "You know, President Truman only had one hour with General MacArthur. I had two."

Suddenly Al reached for his pulse. "Oh, I'm going," he said sadly, before sinking back on his pillow, his eyes closed. The World's Greatest Entertainer, Al Jolson, born Asa Yoelson only 64 years before, was gone...

RIP: JANE MORGAN

Jane Morgan, a singer, nightclub entertainer, Broadway performer and ubiquitous TV presence in 1950s and ’60s, died Monday of natural causes in Naples, Florida. She was 101.

Her family announced her death, saying, “Our beloved Jane passed away peacefully in her sleep.”

As Jane Morgan, the singer was a popular and ubiquitous presence on television variety shows from the Golden Age of the 1950s well through the 1960s and even into the early 1970s. She appeared on The Johnny Cash Show, where she answered the Man in Black’s “A Boy Named Sue” with “A Girl Named Johnny Cash,” which was written for the show by Martin Mull. The song was a minor hit on country radio.

She is thought to hold the record for female singers appearing on The Ed Sullivan Show — 50 times in all.

On Broadway, Morgan appeared in Ziegfeld Follies of 1957, The Jack Benny Show (1963) and in the title role of Mame (1968-69).

Born Florence Catherine Currier on May 3, 1924, in Newton, Massachusetts, Morgan raised by a musical family in Florida and started singing onstage at age 7. In 1948 she was training as a lyric soprano at the Juilliard Conservatory in New York. Singing in nightclubs and small restaurants to help pay her tuition, Morgan was spotted at one such venue by French bandleader Bernard Hilda. Recognizing her unique talents, he took her to sing at clubs in France where she quickly became “The Toast of Paris.”

From there, Morgan’s popularity and career continued to ascend. Having taken Europe, she returned to America, signed with Kapp Records and released a string of albums including The American Girl from Paris and All the Way. In all, she would ultimately earn six gold records.

Among her single hits was one that would become a signature tune for her: “Fascination” (1957). Featured in the Gary Cooper-Audrey Hepburn movie Love in the Afternoon, it went Top 10 and was the title track from her biggest stateside album, which reached No. 13. Her recording of “Fascination” also has been used in the soundtracks of Diner, The Next Karate Kid, Call The Midwife and Fallout.

Her U.S. chart career was spotty, but the international hits would keep coming through the ’50s and ’60, including recordings of such traditional pop standards as “The Day The Rains Came” — which topped the UK chart in 1959 — “With Open Arms,” “To Love and Be Loved” and “Blue Hawaii,” among many others.

In 1962, Morgan had found a new manager, Jerry Weintraub, who would become one of the entertainment industry’s more formidable music managers with clients including Elvis Presley and John Denver. Weintraub also would become a prolific film producer, responsible for such hits as The Karate Kid and Ocean’s Eleven.

Morgan married Weintraub in 1965 and she became stepmother to Weintraub’s son Michael. Morgan and Weintraub would add to their family by adopting three daughters, Julie, Jamie and Jody.

Over the course of her career, Morgan performed for presidents and toured with the popular comedians of the day. She made numerous appearances on television specials and hosted three of her own including The Jane Morgan Hour (1959). A sampling of the 1950s, ’60s and ’70s TV variety shows and specials she appeared on include The Colgate Comedy Hour, Perry Como’s Kraft Music Hall, The Jack Benny Program, The Hollywood Palace, The Dean Martin Show, The Kraft Music Hall and The Jackie Gleason Show.

She also did a few TV guest shots during her career including Peter Gunn and It Takes a Thief.

Morgan received a star on The Hollywood Walk of Fame in 2011.

She is survived by her son Michael Weintraub (Maria), daughters Jamie Weintraub and Jody Weintraub, six grandchildren and eight grandchildren. She was pre-deceased by husband Jerry and daughter Julie. Memorial Services will be private. In lieu of flowers, donations can be sent to the Jane and Jerry Weintraub Center for Reconstructive Biotechnology at UCLA...

RIP: CLEO LAINE

Dame Cleo Laine has died at age 97. Her death was announced by The Stables, the music venue that she and her husband, Sir John Dankworth, founded. Critic Bob Mondello — a longtime fan — offers an appreciation. It was the mid-1970s when a concert-going friend told me he'd just been to Carnegie Hall and heard the greatest pop vocalist alive. "She's coming to DC," he said. "Get tickets."

So I did.

On stage, she wore a diaphanous gown and had an afro that looked like a sunburst mane as the spotlight hit it. And when the applause died away, she sang a capella. Then came the second number — Carole King's "Music," accompanied by Laine's saxophonist husband John Dankworth and his band, in an arrangement designed to establish her jazz credentials. In Britain, she and Dankworth had been playing clubs and concerts since the 1950s, but American audiences were just meeting her.

This song was also designed, I soon learned, to show off her range, from gravelly low notes, to keening ethereal sounds a full four octaves higher. In one particularly glorious passage she went from her lowest note to her highest and back down again in the space of 44 seconds. On her album Cleo Laine Live at Carnegie Hall you can hear her do it live for an audience that's clearly as astonished as mine was.

Now, vocal pyrotechnics are fun. But they're not everything for a pop singer. Laine, I discovered in years of following her, had everything. She excelled at jazz, pop, and classical stylings — among the few vocalists to receive Grammy nominations in all three of those categories — and was so popular in Britain that she was made a Dame in 1997.

Give her a comic number and she'd land every joke, a talent she developed in the theater, where she began her career as an actress, and went on to star in musicals on the West End, regularly stopping such shows as Showboat, and A Little Night Music with ballads. Give her the right one and she could nearly stop your heart.

I remember her holding the last note of "Send in the Clowns" at an outdoor amphitheater many years after I saw that first concert and, I swear, even the crickets stopped for her, the audience so captivated that no one wanted to break the silence.

As she finished that last note, I started counting — one-one-thousand, two-one-thousand, three-one-thousand ... and got to seven before every hand in the place came together in the only "thunderclap" of applause I've ever heard.

Laine continued performing for six decades — all but the last with her husband. He died hours before they were to give a concert in 2010, and she went on without him, only telling the audience at the end that he'd passed away — because, she said, that's what he'd have wanted.

In recent years her voice had dimmed, but not enough that there was ever reason to argue with the Sunday Times critic who said in the 1970s, that Cleo Laine was "quite simply the best singer in the world."

RIP: CONNIE FRANCIS

Singer Connie Francis, best known for her 1962 song "Pretty Little Baby" and hits like "Everybody's Somebody's Fool," has died at the age of 87, her manager confirmed.

"It is with a heavy heart and extreme sadness that I inform you of the passing of my dear friend Connie Francis last night," said her copyrights and royalties manager, Ron Roberts, in a post on social media. "I know that Connie would approve that her fans are among the first to learn of this sad news."

"Pretty Little Baby" most recently became a viral song on TikTok, which Francis joined shortly after, and the song has been used in more than 17 million videos totaling more than 27 billion views globally on the app.

"I'm flabbergasted and excited about the huge buzz my 1962 recording of 'Pretty Little Baby' is making all over the world," Francis said. "To think that a song I recorded 63 years ago is captivating new generations of audiences is truly overwhelming for me."

"Pretty Little Baby" was included on Francis' 1962 album, "Connie Francis Sings 'Second Hand Love' & Other Hits," which charted on the Billboard Top LPs chart. The singles "Together" and "Don't Break the Heart that Loves You" both peaked at no. 1 on the Easy Listening chart.

In May of this year, "Pretty Little Baby" broke into Spotify's Global and U.S. charts for the first time.

Francis was born Concetta Rosa Maria Franconero in Newark, New Jersey on Dec. 12, 1937, and is estimated is to have sold more than 200 million records worldwide in her lifetime.

She started singing on TV programs when she was a child. Her first hit, "Who's Sorry Now," debuted in 1958. In 1960, Francis was only 21 when she became the first female artist to get a Billboard Hot 100 No 1 hit, with her song "Everybody's Somebody's Fool."

Francis went on to have 53 hits on the Billboard charts over the course of her decades-long career.

In 1964, she was awarded a special Golden Globe for her contributions to the recording world.

In 2001, "Who's Sorry Now" was named one of the Songs of the Century in a list compiled by the Recording Industry of America and the National Endowment for the Arts...

FINAL RESTING PLACES: BILLIE HOLIDAY

One of the greats of jazz was the amazing Billie Holiday. Holiday had a seminal influence on jazz and pop singing. Her vocal style, strongly inspired by jazz instrumentalists, pioneered a new way of manipulating phrasing and tempo. She co-wrote only a few songs, but several of them have become jazz standards, notably "God Bless the Child", "Don't Explain", "Fine and Mellow", and "Lady Sings the Blues". She also became famous for singing "Easy Living", "Good Morning Heartache", and "Strange Fruit". Billie, who had an addiction to alcohol and drugs, was arrested on a few occasions for drug possession. As her health declined in the 1950's, so did the quality of her voice and career. In 1959, she was diagnosed with cirrhosis of the liver, and died from pulmonary edema and heart failure caused by the cirrhosis on July 17 of that year. As she was dying in the hospital, Billie was once again arrested for drug possession and police were guarding her hospital room until the end. She is buried at Saint Raymond's Cemetery in the Bronx, NY...

NEW PATSY CLINE RECORDINGS UNEARTHED

Detective work locates dozens of recorded live performances, including 15 songs the late country icon never released.

As improbable as the news may seem, it's true: More than six decades after her much-too-soon death, new music by country legend Patsy Cline is being released!

On Saturday, a limited-edition two-LP set of brand-new recordings will go on sale nationwide in celebration of Record Store Day. The full collection, entitled Imagine That: The Lost Recordings (1954-1963), is also set to be released as a two-CD set next Friday, which is the same day that the digital download will be available.The 48 tracks, all retrieved from live performances, feature 15 never-released songs, as well as new renditions of such iconic Cline classics as “Crazy,” “I Fall to Pieces” and “Walkin’ After Midnight.”

This is no historical footnote, assures Cline discographer George Hewitt. “It’s a dream come true,” says the lifelong collector, who co-produced the project for the Elemental Music/Deep Digs label. Cline’s fans worldwide will be rejoicing over the news, but no one is happier than Julie Fudge, Cline’s daughter, who was just 4 years old when she lost her mother in a private plane crash in 1963.

“It’s just so real,” Fudge, 66, says of the new music. “A lot of people — when you lose someone — you don’t have all these different avenues to remember them. The fact that it’s been more than 60 years and to still have her in our lives every day is quite an accomplishment. It’s been such a blessing."

The older of Cline’s two children, Fudge has been the family’s keeper of the Cline flame for many years. But it’s really been the singer’s enormous fan base who’s done the heaviest lifting to carry forward her musical legacy. Key among them is Hewitt, who oversees the authoritative website dedicated to the Cline catalogue. He also provided the spark for the new record project after a Washington, D.C.-area man reached out to him a couple of years ago seeking more information about a Cline acetate disc he’d found in his parents’ vinyl collection. Each side of the 78-rpm record featured song titles that Hewitt had never heard on any other Cline recording, and as he writes in the album notes, “I nearly jumped out of my skin.”

The discovery quickly inspired him to enlist sound engineer Dylan Utz and producer Zev Feldman in the hunt for more treasure, and their meticulous search dug up far more riches than they had ever anticipated. The three men, joined by Fudge, told their story on Wednesday during a panel discussion held at Grimey’s record store in Nashville. The sources for the album, they explained, were varied: Several derived from the collections of hobbyists, who snagged amateur recordings off original broadcasts. Others were found in the deep recesses of archives and storage vaults. The Grand Ole Opry, for instance, was able to provide four new performances from its collection. All told, the songs span Cline’s entire career and sonically track her rise to fame.

“It really demonstrates how Patsy adapted as an artist and refined her artistry over time and almost reinvented herself in the short period of time she had on this planet,” Hewitt said during the panel discussion.

Among the album’s many highlights are the contents of that original acetate 78, two demos that are now believed to be Cline’s earliest recordings, likely made in September 1954. Though Cline wanted to release Christmas music, she never did, and the new album remedies that. Among its tracks are two holiday favorites, “Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow” and “Winter Wonderland,” both duets. Cline never released a duet or other collaboration, and the new album features nine, including one with Cowboy Copas, who perished in the plane crash with Cline (along with fellow Opry star Hawkshaw Hawkins and Cline’s manager, Randy Hughes).

Cline was only 30 years old when the single-engine plane went down in bad weather in a forest outside of Camden, Tennessee, on March 5, 1963. The four, all killed instantly, were on their way home to Nashville from a benefit concert in Kansas City, Kansas; Hughes was at the controls...

HEALTHWATCH: JOHNNY MATHIS

Johnny Mathis has announced he’s retiring from live stage performances due to “age and memory issues which have accelerated.”

The news was shared in a statement on the 89-year-old’s Facebook page Wednesday: “While there are still some exciting concerts coming up, regrettably all Johnny Mathis concerts from June 2025 onwards are now cancelled.”

“As many of you may already be aware, Johnny Mathis is approaching his 90th birthday this year,” the statement continued. “So, it’s with sincere regret that due to Mr. Mathis’ age and memory issues which have accelerated, we are announcing his retirement from touring & live concerts.”

According to Mathis’ website, the singer-songwriter has four concerts remaining on his 2025 Voice of Romance tour before he officially retires, including in Pennsylvania, Indiana, California and New Jersey, with his final show scheduled for May 18. As for the four canceled shows, “refunds will be made through the original point of purchase,” according to the post.

“Johnny Mathis & his entire staff send their heartfelt gratitude to all Mathis Fans worldwide for your continued love & support of his music! It’s truly been ‘Wonderful, Wonderful,'” the statement concluded.

Mathis, the voice behind the hits “Too Much, Too Little, Too Late,” “Gina,” “What Will My Mary Say” and “Misty,” has been touring across the world for seven decades, since releasing his self-titled debut album in 1956.

In addition to earning five Grammy nominations throughout his career, he was awarded The Recording Academy’s Lifetime Achievement Award in 2003. Mathis also has three recordings — “Chances Are,” “It’s Not for Me to Say” and “Misty” — in the Grammy Hall of Fame.

CAROLE KING AND HER FOUR HUSBANDS

What does it take to write music that touches millions, while enduring the heartbreak of four marriages? Carole King, the woman behind timeless songs, has not only shaped the world of music but also weathered the emotional storms of love and loss. Her story of marriages and relationships is as complex and layered as the music that made her a legend.

 
King’s first marriage was to lyricist Gerry Goffin, a partnership that started when she was just 17 years old. Goffin and King were an unstoppable duo in the early 1960s, crafting hit songs like “Will You Love Me Tomorrow” and “The Loco-Motion.” They became one of the most successful songwriting teams of the era. Their creative connection was undeniable, but their marriage faced many difficulties. While they had two daughters, Louise and Sherry, the relationship began to crack under the weight of Goffin’s infidelities and personal struggles. He struggled with depression and drug use, which placed an immense strain on their marriage. By 1968, their relationship ended in divorce, though their professional legacy would live on.

After her divorce from Goffin, King moved forward with her career and found love again with bassist Charles Larkey. In 1970, she married Larkey, and they had two children, Molly and Levi. This marriage marked a new chapter in her life, coinciding with her solo career taking off. During this period, King released her iconic album “Tapestry,” which earned her worldwide fame and solidified her status as a music legend. However, despite the success, her marriage with Larkey also came under strain. The pressures of balancing her booming career and family life began to take a toll. Larkey was frequently touring, and King was consumed with her work. The emotional distance grew between them, leading to the couple’s eventual separation in 1976.

King’s third marriage was to singer-songwriter Rick Evers, which turned out to be the most heartbreaking chapter in her personal life. The two married in 1977, and initially, King believed she had found a partner who understood her both creatively and emotionally. However, Evers struggled with drug addiction, and his abusive behavior soon became apparent. King has spoken about the domestic abuse she suffered during this period, which left her emotionally devastated. In 1978, Evers tragically died of a drug overdose, bringing an abrupt and sorrowful end to their tumultuous relationship. This marriage, though brief, left a lasting impact on King’s life and served as a period of intense emotional pain.

After the trauma of her third marriage, King took a step back from relationships for a few years. In 1982, she married Rick Sorenson, a rancher who brought a sense of calm and stability to her life. This relationship was less public and much more grounded, offering King a peaceful environment away from the spotlight. However, even this marriage wasn’t meant to last. By 1989, King and Sorenson had parted ways, though the reasons for the breakup were never fully disclosed. Many believe that the challenges of maintaining a relationship in the midst of King’s continued career demands and personal growth contributed to their separation.

In addition to her marriages, King also had a deep personal and professional connection with fellow musician James Taylor. The two collaborated on numerous projects in the 1970s, creating some of the era’s most iconic songs. Their friendship grew into something more, though they never married. Their close bond, rooted in mutual respect and admiration, remained intact even as their romantic relationship didn’t lead to a long-term commitment. Taylor and King have continued to speak fondly of each other, both acknowledging the special creative and emotional relationship they shared.

Today, Carole King is single and has found contentment in her life, focusing on her music and environmental activism. She is an advocate for the protection of natural habitats, especially in the Northern Rockies, and her passion for preserving the environment has become a central part of her later life. While her children, Louise, Sherry, Molly, and Levi, have all grown and pursued their own lives, King maintains a close bond with her family...