Trevor Tolliver - You Dont Own Me: The Life and Times of Lesley Gore

Copyright 2015 by Trevor Tolliver

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, without written permission, except by a newspaper or magazine reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review.

Published in 2015 by Backbeat Books

An Imprint of Hal Leonard Corporation
7777 West Bluemound Road
Milwaukee, WI 53213

Trade Book Division Editorial Offices
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Printed in the United States of America

Book design by Lynn Bergesen

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

ISBN 978-1-4950-2441-2

www.backbeatbooks.com

For Mom and Dad,

for never turning down the radio

Contents

Baby Pink Lipstick and Motorcycle Jackets

Someplace Else Now

Ever Since

Foreword
A GUSHING FANBOY

I am thirty-five years old, and I have been a Lesley Gore fan my entire life. Its My Party was the first song I had ever committed to memory. When I was five, I used to arrange my stuffed animals into a rock band, assigning each of them a different toy instrument to jam with. I had a rabbit puppet that I would accessorize with paper-clip earrings, designating it the girl of the group. She got her time in the spotlight when my older brothers 60s Dance Party album spun around to Its My Party.

As an adult I can connect every significant phase of my life to one Lesley Gore song or another and, as I matured, there came a respect and admiration for each strand of the artists career and life, and an enjoyment of the wide and varying styles she embraced as trends changed.

I was thrilled to have met Lesley Gore in person in Palm Springs in September 2003 at the citys summer Rocktoberfest event. She performed at a nighttime street concert, where Fabian served as a suave and witty master of ceremonies. He introduced a cavalcade of great starsBig Bopper Jr. (the only surviving heir to the Day the Music Died in 1959), the original Tokens, Chris Montez, Little Anthony and the Imperials, and, of course, Lesley Gore. She performed a lengthy and remarkable set, singing all of her rock hits as well as a moving and clearly personal rendition of her self-penned Out Here On My Own from the motion picture Fame . She ended her time onstage with a strong, stunningly powerful, neck-veins-bulging You Dont Own Me, and the sixty thousand people clogging Palm Springs main avenue and hanging over balconies and rooftop railings of surrounding buildings all rose to a screaming standing ovation.

My partner and I scuttled through the crowd to get to a small table at which she would be appearing to sign autographs. When it was my turn, my eyes were already misty (dont make fun). She shook my hand and jokingly commented on the I *heart* Lesley button I had pinned to my sun visor. As I slid my souvenir across the table for her to sign, I began to spew out my praiseshow she was my idol, how I loved her unfairly neglected Someplace Else Now album, and then I whipped out my official card to the Lesley Gore Fan Club as proof of my loyalty. She took the card, processed what it was I could possibly have been showing her, then, to my surprise and horror, she jumped up and extended her arms to hug me. After the hug I gushed just once more about how much I loved her, and as I stumbled away from her, I could hear her say she loved me, too. I was touched by her warmth, her kindness, and her appreciation of an individual (and slightly nutty) fan. In short, she was everything I hoped shed be. Suffice it to say, I cried a little bit more.

You would cry, too, if it happened to you (insert trumpet bleats here).

We would cross paths again in 2006 in Los Angeles when my partner and I saw her perform during the West Coast leg of her Ever Since promotional tour. We were celebrating our domestic partnership, and her concert was our honeymoon; we told her so when we met her at the end of her performance, and she hugged us both and made us promise always to be good to each other. If my two chance meetings had been all I was entitled to, I would have been thrilled with that; but during the last year of her life, we struck up a friendly correspondence that is, and will remain, one of my greatest treasures. That I was allowed to call my idol since childhood a friend goes far above and beyond any and all of my wildest expectations.

Writing her biography went from being a fun and challenging pastime to a true labor of love. Compiled from interviews, extensive contemporary secondary materials, and a reexamination of her music, this record of a life is written, of course, for the artist herself, as a tribute to her fame and success, a chronological scrapbook of her struggles, disappointments, and victories; of her failures and reinventions; and of the secret private life she had to reconcile with an engineered public image. This book is also a love letter for the ardent fans who have followed her stellar fifty-year career and find it inexcusable that her story hasnt been documented sooner than this volumeas well as for the legions of new fans who rediscover her music with every passing generation and want to know more of this pop pioneer. It is also written for the casual reader who recognized the title of her anthemic signature song and has decided to indulge in a bubblegum-flavored history lesson in great rock music.

Trevor L. Tolliver, 2015

Constructing the mosaic tiles of a human life is no small feat. There were active times in the spotlight when Lesley Gore was much more vocal and more willing to share stories and go into greater detail of the circumstances of her life and career, and still other periods of relative shyness and extraordinary privacy. Assembling these innumerable, distinct pieces into one collection would not have been nearly as enjoyable (or doable) if not for the brilliant interviewers, journalists, and writers who came before me, whose invaluable documented conversations over the last fifty years with the friendly, and sometimes reserved singer provided many of the resources used to pave the way to fashioning together one complete story. First and foremost, I thank all of you whose work is mentioned throughout the book.

I also want to thank the people who gave their time to speak with me about this project, whose personal recollections helped fill in as many gaps as possible or who were instrumental in clarifying or debunking the various myths, stories, and anecdotes that are bound to surface in a career as long and as varied as Lesley Gores. That list includes Morris Diamond, Cevin Soling, and the late, great Phil Ramone, as well as a spunky Gore relative who requested to remain anonymous out of respect for the familyyou know who you are, and Im grateful for your trust and for the tender memories you shared. I was also thrilled to have been able to correspond with two more of my Golden Era heroes during the writing of this bookpop idol Diane Renay and legendary singer-songwriter Neil Sedaka.

For offering support, encouragement, assistance, or simple kindness along the way, Id like to extend my gratitude to Robert Cotto, Lisa Rogak, Debra Barsha, Mark Hampton, and Detlev Hoegen. A singular thanks must go to Jack Natoli, who has been the fearless captain of the Lesley Gore International Fan Club for several decades; his generosity is matched only by his genuine sweetness, and all of us fans owe him a great debt for keeping us so well connected to our favorite singer.

A very special and resounding thank you goes to Ronny Gore, who shared her time and lovely stories of her daughter with me during a very pleasant, immensely enjoyable telephone conversation. Mrs. Gore asked that specific dates in her life and the names of certain extended family members be protected, which was a simple request I was happy to honor. Mrs. Gore is a remarkable symbol of strength and graciousness, and its no small wonder where Lesley inherited those very same traits.