CHAPTER TWENTY
That fall, “Captain Bobby and His Video Space Cadets” began its second season. AGT-Tantamount had Bobby re-record ten of the songs from it, which the label issued as Songs I Sing on the Captain Bobby Show. Though it sold well as a holiday item, AGT noted that the LP wasn’t nearly as profitable as Bobby’s other releases had been.
The ratings were discouraging, too. “Captain Bobby” had dropped for its third consecutive Nielsen book. When Bobby asked when he’d start filming his next movie, Stronzo said he would ask the studio. That was the last Bobby heard of his manager until the spring of 1975, when Stronzo invited Bobby to his house.
He drove there in his Maserati and strutted into Stronzo’s living room. He wore expensive silk clothing and $500 sunglasses.
“Hey, paisan! What can ol’ Bobby do for you?”
“Please, sit down.”
Bobby plopped down on the couch.
“Would you mine removing your sunglasses?”
“Not a prob.” Bobby removed his shades, revealing dilated pupils.
“I’m afraid this is quite serious.”
“What’s up?”
“I heard from the network yesterday.”
“Yeah?”
“They’re not renewing ‘Captain Bobby’ for the fall.”
He lost his smooth demeanor. “What are you telling me?”
“You’ve been cancelled, Bobby. And they pulled the plug on your next film.”
“We’re not doing the movie?”
“No, we’re not. I’ve also been told your fan club had plateaued.”
“What’s ‘plateaued’?”
“It means that new memberships are down. Pretty soon, no one’ll be joining. And while we’re on the subject, the return rate on your records is going up.”
“I don’t get it. What did I do?”
“You didn’t do anything, Bobby. It’s not your fault; it’s the fickle nature of our business.”
“Well, can’t we do anything about it?”
“I’m meeting with Tetchily to see if we can come up with a new idea. Don’t worry, kid. Just because you’re off TV doesn’t mean you can’t still make records.”
Despite Stronzo’s assurances, a heartsick Bobby drove straight to his connection.
“Disco Dreamland?”
It was June. Bobby stood in the recording studio with Stronzo and Bob Tetchily.
“That’s right,” said the record producer. “We’re changing your image.”
“But why disco?”
“Because it’s the next big thing. A lot of singers who’d been relegated to the oldies circuit are now back on the charts. Why? Disco! Some insiders even predict it’ll be the death of rock and roll.”
Bobby read the lyrics to the title song of his next album:
It’s ten on Friday night.
I’m higher than a kite.
I think I’ll start a fight
At Disco Dreamland.
I’m wearing platform shoes.
All set to cruise the cooze.
I’m gonna lose my blues,
At Disco Dreamland.
Bridge:
Political debates? You won’t find them here.
They don’t fit in with our atmosphere.
The stench of pot is strong in the air.
The lights and the music hurt your eyes and ears.
The cocaine really flows.
Come sniff some up your nose.
That’s where your money goes
At Disco Dreamland.
The chicks are hot to trot.
You’ll sure get laid a lot.
Go find a honeypot
At Disco Dreamland.
Bobby looked up from the lyric sheet. “I don’t know if we should do a disco album. What’ll my fans think?”
Stronzo replied, “Your fans are deserting you in droves. We’re hoping a disco record will attract new ones.”
“But what if it doesn’t?”
Tetchily shrugged. “There’s always country.”
Stronzo told his client, “I had to pull some teeth to get the label to agree to this project. I suggest you put some effort into it.”
“Do a little dance! Make a little love! Get down tonight! Get down tonight!”
“Bobby!” Allison yelled. “Will you turn that shit down?”
“What’s wrong, sis? Don’t you like music anymore?”
“Not with that disco bullshit killing soul.”
“Aw, come on, Allie. Nothing wrong with disco. I didn’t like it at first either, but now I think it’s pretty cool.”
“You would. Listen, my first exam is coming up next week, and I need to study for it. So will you please turn that music down?”
He did.
They gave Bobby a complete makeover, with gold chains, platform shoes and a white polyester leisure suit with an open neck to show his non-existent chest hair. It was 1972 all over again, except this time Bobby Dreamland wasn’t being marketed to twelve-year-olds.
OK, maybe disco would put him back on top. But what if it didn’t, or what if his disco popularity didn’t last either? Would there be a third makeover? Or worse yet, would the label just drop him? Bobby had to wonder if Allie was right all along.
Disco Dreamland was a catastrophe. Bobby’s promotional tour was cut short due to poor ticket sales. When he lip-synched the title track on “The Tonight Show,” the audience’s derisive laughter caused Bobby to run off the stage in humiliation. In the next night’s monologue, Johnny Carson said, “What’s the difference between the Titanic and Disco Dreamland? The Titanic had entertainment!”
Even Bobby’s appearance on the always-hospitable “Kenny Kendall Show” drew a tepid response from the teen-aged audience. Once Bobby had sung, Kendall sadly shook his head and placed a sympathetic arm around the boy’s shoulders.
The album spent just two weeks in Billboard, topping out at number 197, while the title single climbed only to number eighty-eight. The follow-up, a disco remix of “Darling Ophelia,” failed to chart at all.
Bobby consoled himself in the only way he knew how — locked in his bedroom with goodies from his connection.