Word: torm
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...that he is 37, Mel Tormé can look back with ease upon a bountiful life in music: lots of money, dozens of cars, two wives, three psychiatrists. In person, though, he has always been a sour-luck man whose glance wilts a flower. As a result, he managed to overwhelm his great talents as crooner, composer, actor, drummer, pianist and arranger and become an engaging failure. Good old Mel, his friends in music say, the public never liked him. But he is also a singer of jazz, and in that difficult and unfriendly medium, he has lately become...
...four, Melvin Howard Tormé was a complete nobody. Then he stood up one night in Chicago's old Blackhawk Restaurant and, having spilled his milk, sang You're Driving Me Crazy. It turned out to be one of the few unqualified successes of an unhappy life. When he was 14, he wrote an excellent song called Lament to Love and sold it to Harry James, but James took so long to play it that by the time it became a hit, all Mel's friends had already decided he was a liar. At 21, he made...
Life as a Little Doll. From then on, Tormé patrolled the fringes of popularity, and from time to time slipped into downright obscurity. On the few occasions when he had to sing from center stage, he invariably fell victim to some quirk of personality that cost him friends, fans and jobs. His life, as even he tells it, began to sound like a punk's diary. "I didn't know the word for it then," he says, "but I can see now that I was defensive. I had a chip on my shoulder." To unload it, Torme...
Born. To Mel Tormé, 33, cream-voiced crooner, once known as "The Velvet Fog," and Arlene Tormé, 28: their first child, a son (Tormé has two sons by an earlier marriage); in Hollywood. Name: Tracy. Weight...
...searing TV script, Sammy is four days away from "the biggest comedy show in the history of TV." He is surrounded by the usual coterie of chorines, con men, stooges and freeloaders. His head writer (Edmond O'Brien) plagiarizes to please him. His weakling brother (Mel Tormé) can neither escape him nor lick him. Even a fox-sly gossip columnist fails to frame him and concedes that he must wait for revenge until "six straight men send him along the route to the great producer up yonder." The unpleasant honesty of the climax makes up for most...