The hits of Tommy James and the Shondells were a vital part of the 1960s. Looking back, I'm a little surprised to note I didn't fully appreciate the Shondells at the time, nor even really become much aware of them until the following decade. I was a kid in the '60s, and I certainly heard a lot of popular music contemporary to its rockin' AM radio reign. But somehow, my full embrace of Tommy James and the Shondells was delayed until my overall rediscovery of the magic of the '60s when I was an adolescent and teen in the '70s.
The one exception was Tommy James and the Shondells' first hit, "Hanky Panky." I was six years old when "Hanky Panky" topped the Top 40 in 1966. My baby does the Hanky Panky. Everyone on my block knew "Hanky Panky," and I clearly remember my friend Sharon singing it to herself. It was the sound of 1966, playing everywhere. Batman and later The Monkees were my predominant new discoveries of '66, but "Hanky Panky" was also essential.
And as for the rest of the Shondells' cavalcade o' hits? I must have heard them--hell, probably all of them--but it wasn't until the '70s that I began to pay attention. "Crimson And Clover." "Crystal Blue Persuasion." "Mony Mony." "Sweet Cherry Wine." James' 1971 solo hit "Draggin' The Line." And especially "I Think We're Alone Now," which implied teen canoodling and was immediately appealing to this then-teen. I don't think I heard "Gettin' Together" or "Mirage" until even later, but add them to the honor roll anyway, alongside the still-great "Hanky Panky." It came after the fact, sure, but I was an enthusiastic Tommy James and the Shondells fan in short order.
(Tommy James and the Shondells also served as my gateway into the splendor of the Rubinoos, courtesy of the latter group's 1977 cover of "I Think We're Alone Now." I was seventeen, and teen canoodling was beginning to have more than theoretical relevance. "I Think We're Alone Now" was the Rubinoos' only chart hit, but it led to my subsequent immersion in so much sheer pop brilliance from this fantastic group.)
Let's jump ahead a decade and change. By the late '80s and into the early '90s, I had started writing about music as a freelance contributor to Goldmine magazine (a long story told here). My concert-going resumé included a number of '60s acts, from Herman's Hermits through the Monkees, plus survivors like the Kinks and the Rolling Stones who were still making new records. I saw the Beach Boys at The New York State Fair Grandstand. Over the next few years, I would witness performances by many other classic acts (like Ray Charles, the Everly Brothers, Gene Pitney, and Bo Diddley) at the Fair's free-with-admittance Miller Court shows.
In general, I favored the club shows. Club shows felt more real, more immediate. An early '80s Buffalo club show by the Searchers remains one of my favorite live music memories. The end of the '80s brought an unbelievable opportunity to see the Ventures play at a bar located within a shopping center in Baldwinsville, NY. Around 1988 or so, I saw the Rascals--Felix Cavaliere, Gene Cornish, and Dino Danelli, missing only Eddie Brigati from the original quartet--at Stage East in East Syracuse, the same venue where I'd seen 1979 shows by Artful Dodger and the Records.
And it was sometime circa 1989, maybe '90, when Tommy James played at Uncle Sam's in Syracuse.
Uncle Sam's had been a disco in the '70s, known for its flashing lights and an alcoholic concoction called the Firecracker. It became a very cool rock club, and the venue looms large in my concert memories. My biggest individual Uncle Sam's evening was July 6th, 1979, when a screening of the Ramones' movie Rock 'n' Roll High School was followed by a live set by my heroes the Flashcubes, and then by...well, by the Ramones themselves. SCORE!! Uncle Sam's was also where I saw the Pretenders, Joe Jackson, and legendary British guitarist Chris Spedding, who was playing with the Pretenders' opening act the Necessaries.
By '89-'90, Uncle Sam's was nearing the end of its vibrant life. My final visit there was to see Tommy James.
And I was so primed for it. The Ventures and Rascals shows had each been one hell of a good time, and I knew Tommy James would be just as great. My wife Brenda accompanied me, we met some friends, and we all settled in for an evening of the best of the '60s.
As a performer, Tommy James was flawless that night, and his material was impeccable. He had his own bona fide hits to sing; he didn't pander by covering other '60s acts, nor did he insult us by padding his set with his renditions of, say, stuff by Neil Diamond or the Electric Light Orchestra (questionable choices that compromised my enjoyment of some other classic performers at other times). Tommy James sang Tommy James material, which is what we were there to hear him sing.
I don't have a lot of concrete memory of the night's specifics. I do remember that he sounded great, and that he did nearly all of his expected hit songs. I also recall that his set included "Tighter, Tighter," a song he and Bob King cowrote and coproduced as a 1970 smash for the group Alive and Kicking. It was a nice surprise in James' set, and we were fully stoked from start to finish.
Our only complaint? The whole show--the entire performance--lasted for maybe twenty minutes. If that long. Start to finish. No opening act, no closing act. And no encore. Suddenly, he was gone. Poof!
Like a mirage.
We were disappointed, and taken aback. There may have been other factors prompting the show's brevity, but we had expected a little bit more show than we got. Instead, we turned our attention to Uncle Sam's sound system, which was playing fare from the '70s (including, as I recall, "Saturday Night" by the Bay City Rollers). We had a few drinks at the bar, and we did have a pretty good time overall.
I know it sounds like I'm complaining, but I'm not. Not really, anyway. I wish there had been more live music for our ticket-buying dollar, but even a mere twenty minutes of Tommy James was at least twenty minutes of top-notch Tommy James.
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Uncle Sam's is long gone. It went through a subsequent incarnation or two, lingered as a decaying and defunct eyesore for years and years, and fell to the wrecking ball in 2017. The memories linger. Yes, even in spite of the number of Firecrackers I may have consumed during my visits there.
In collaboration with Martin Fitzpatrick, Tommy James wrote an autobiography, published in 2010. Me, The Mob, And The Music tells James' story of being a pop star signed to a record label that was tied to organized crime. Hijinks ensued. I bought the book a few years ago (in part as research for a Green Hornet story I was noodling with), but it's in my huge, huge wall of still-to-be-read books. I'm looking forward to reading it, and I will spend much more than twenty minutes with it when its time comes.
When Joan Jett and the Blackhearts were (FINALLY!) inducted into The Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame in 2015, the one and only Tommy James joined Jett for a performance of the Shondells' "Crimson And Clover." The song was also a Top 10 hit for Jett and her band of Blackhearts in 1982, and it was very cool of Joan to share her Hall of Fame spotlight with Tommy. Given the RnRHoF's ongoing myopic disdain for singles artists, it's likely the closest Tommy James and the Shondells will ever come to induction.
And that's crystal blue baloney on the Hall's part. We should honor Tommy James and the Shondells. Those hits are still vibrant, still essential. I'm grateful I had a chance to hear them in a live setting, even for an abbreviated set. Hey, Tommy! Come out and take a bow!
Tommy? Tommy...?
He left?
Well.
I think we're alone now.
Join me for a Firecracker? Here we come now spendin' money money....
This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio with Dana & Carl airs Sunday nights from 9 to Midnight Eastern, on the air in Syracuse at SPARK! WSPJ 103.3 and 93.7 FM, and on the web at http://sparksyracuse.org/ You can read about our history here.
I'm on Twitter @CafarelliCarl
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