Remembering Julius La Rosa

Remembering Julius La Rosa

January 2, 1930 – May 15 , 2016

by Elizabeth Ahlfors for Cabaret Scenes

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Julius La Rosa, one of the finest saloon singers of his era, died on May 15, 2016. He was an affable, gregarious, down-to-earth Brooklyn boy who grew up in a simpler day, listening to 78rpm records of Frank Sinatra and the big bands and realizing he had a talent for singing. That talent brought him to one of the top star spots on television, in nightclubs, and on radio. A vivacious raconteur, Julie was forthcoming with stories about his career and about music, an honesty reflected in the songs he sang and how he sang them. 

He once commented, “Big or small, I like the audience right in front of me. Even when I work in nightclubs, I keep the lights on…

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That’s the way I work at my best. All I have to do is make one eye contact and I’m in contact with everybody else. I don’t assume another character. I’m always me, Julius La Rosa. Here it is.”  And you knew him right away.

I met Julie almost 20 years ago and we became quick friends,  meeting every few months for a lunch-and-music chat. He would take a train down from his home in Irvington, NY where he lived with his wife, Rory. He was good company, a complex man,  truthful,  and well-versed in popular music and musical history, and enormous admiration for the popular songwriters, especially Johnny Mercer. He was outspoken with definite likes and dislikes, and he enjoyed sharing his ideas and reciting special lyrics that spoke to him. 

“I try to tell the story of the song in a way that no one has heard before. I try to sing as if I were just talking casually with someone.”

Julie was a story teller, working the room easily and studying lyrics until they were completely a part of him. It was while he was singing in the United States Navy Band that Arthur Godfrey, a legendary TV entertainer, heard him and said, “Young man, when you get out, come see me. You’ve got a job.”

Julius-La-Rosa-Cabaret-Scenes-Magazine2That was the start of Julius La Rosa, ’50s superstar. For almost two years, from November 1951 to October 1953, he was a member of the CBS TV series Arthur Godfrey and his Friends. He came across as a shy, immensely popular singer.  Actually, Julie was far from shy (“Just scared to death. But that fear just manifested itself as shyness.”). When he was appearing on TV and radio with Godfrey, he studied singing with Carlo Menotti.

Julie’s first recordings were “Anywhere I Wander” and “My Lady Loves to Dance.” In 1953, he recorded a novelty song, “Eh, Cumpari,” a monster hit, and shortly after, Arthur Godfrey fired him live on the air, later stating that Julius La Rosa had lost his humility. Julie’s fans and the general public were furious. 

Godfrey actually had other reasons for firing the singer. La Rosa had hired his own manager after his first hit records and personal managers were against Godfrey’s rules. Also, Julie and other men on the show did not go to dance lessons as Godfrey ordered. Finally, Godfrey was irritated about Julie’s involvement with Dorothy McGuire, one of the show’s McGuire sisters. 

Said Julie years later, “Thank God for the press’s awareness and the public’s awareness! They knew that the big guy should never hurt the little guy. And Arthur Godfrey was the big guy, trying to hurt this kid, and that’s why they turned on him.”  Arthur Godfrey’s star faded quickly and Julie’s took off. 

After being fired: “I went out and learned my job and it took 15 years to really get comfortable doing it…I learned my job in public—how to walk onstage, how to control an audience, what materials to use, what taste was.” His focus was always singing, but the days of his kind of music were soon ending. Julie got jobs in theater and film and become a successful disc jockey

La Rosa admitted he had a temper and was impatient, but he had a full and ready laugh and a generous nature. One of my favorite memories came when Julie La Rosa learned that when a good friend and singer he admired, Marilyn Maye, was in New York and performing at the Metropolitan Room. We went downtown to see her show and surprise her. Julie invited her to meet with us for lunch the next day.

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Marilyn, her assistant, Helen, and I just sat for well over two hours in a small Italian restaurant, listening as these two seasoned pros traded tales about their experiences, arrangers they admired, songs, other performers, personal friends they liked and some they did not. It was a master class in the Golden Era of Popular Song by two who knew what they were talking about.

Enjoying the music of Julius La Rosa will continue through his recordings. But I will miss his exuberant stories of nightclubs, Sinatra, the Las Vegas era and, especially, songs he loved by Rodgers and Hart, Sammy Cahn, Harry Warren and his favorite lyricist, Johnny Mercer. I will miss his singing them over lunch and sharing the lyrics that especially touched him, like “My Funny Valentine,” his voice filled with admiration for the basic truth beautifully stated.

Elizabeth Ahlfors

Born and raised in New York, Elizabeth graduated from NYU with a degree in Journalism. She has lived in various cities and countries and now is back in NYC. She has written magazine articles and published three books: A Housewife’s Guide to Women’s Liberation, Twelve American Women, and Heroines of ’76 (for children). A great love was always music and theater—in the audience, not performing. A Philadelphia correspondent for Theatre.com and InTheatre Magazine, she has reviewed theater and cabaret for the Philadelphia Inquirer and Philadelphia City News. She writes for Cabaret Scenes and other cabaret/theater sites. She is a judge for Nightlife Awards and a voting member of Drama Desk and Outer Critics Circle.