Charlie Sheen & Dean Martin Play Chicago

Hey pallies, likes I was thinkin' that we were havin' a pretty cool week so far with posts here at ilovedinomartin....likes I mean I loved our Danny G.'s Sunday Dino-serenade featurin' "In A Little Spanish Town." Then we had that great post on Monday puttin' the accent on our Dino's amazin' style...and yesterday readin' 'bout Michael Buble dancin' his first dance with his new bride to our Dino's classic, "Everybody Loves Somebody, Sometime" brought a huge Dino-buddha-grin to my face.

But, likes pallies today's Dino-reflection is one of those oh so so rare and magical pieces of Dino-prose that truly makes one proud to be known as a true Dino-holic's Dino-holic!

From a blog site tagged "Open Salon" a blogger known as Chicago Guy tells about his experience of seein' Charlie Sheen last Sunday night playin' the famous Chicago Theater.

Well pallies, accordin' to Chicago Guy seein' Charlie Sheen in the windy city was no great thrill, but what is thrillin' is to read this dude's recollection of seein' our Dino playin' the same venue not long after his beloved boypallie Dino Jr. died in the plane crash....no doubt when our great man played the Chicago Theater with the frankie and Sam man durin' the 1998 Rat Pack Reunion Tour...and as you will remember pallies, our Dino called it quits followin' the Chicago gig.

You are gonna wants to read each and every word of Dino-praise that Chicago Guy has for our beloved Dino....several times!

Loves how Chicago Guy simply sez, "He smiled. And he had you." All our Dino has to do is walk out on the stage and smile...smilin' that amazin' Dino-buddha-grin of his...and likes pallies this guy and his pallies were gone...simply lost in Dino-wonder.

Can't tell you how happy it makes me to read this Dino-account of some young guys in the Windy City bein' blown away by the charm of our King of Cool. Gotta also 'fess up how envious I am of Chicago Guy and his pals, 'cause likes I coulda been one of those three thousand bein' in the immediate presence of our beloved Dino and bein' changed forever by simply seein' him smile!

Words simply cannot express my appreciato to Chicago Guy for sharin' his fabulous memories of bein' in the Chicago Theatre, bein' transformed by the power of Dino! Chicago Guy simply has recharged my batteries to be even more faithful in proclaimin' the message of Dino-devotion as far and wide as possible.

Thanks ever so much Chicago Guy for sharin' your Dino-testimony with the rest of the world and lettin' others know the transformational power of our beloved Dino! To read this in it's original format, likes just clicks on the tagg of this Dino-message. Dino-transformed, DMP

APRIL 4, 2011 12:25PM

Charlie Sheen & Dean Martin Play Chicago



Sunday was a bad night for ticket scalpers in Chicago. Standing quietly in the shadows thrown by Charlie Sheen’s name splashed across the marquee, they weren’t even trying to negotiate. So I said, “5 bucks.”

“Aw c’mon man . . . .”

I shrugged and we started down the stairs to the Red Line subway home. Rain was coming. Time to go home. But the scalper called after us.

“Only cause that’s such a pretty lady. Hey, you ain’t Sandra Bullock are you?”

She rolled her eyes and said under her breath, “Yeah, I am. But the limos in the shop so we’re taking the train.”

I looked at her and she said quietly, “Oh alright. If it gets really bad we can leave.” And I gave him the $10.00 bill with no thought at all to what others had paid. Only that I might be paying too much.

Inside the stately Chicago Theater. The lobby built to capture the anticipation of being bowled over by world-class talent. Now it was winking. As if to say, “Are you sure?”

We found the predictably distant nosebleed seats. A football field’s distance from the stage.

And I thought back to the night 3 pals and me had come to see Dean Martin near the end of his life. All three of us young punks awash in just how funny we thought we were. Dressed in Rat Pack trench coats. Boxes of candy cigarettes. So we could stand outside, take a Sinatra like sharp quick puff, and then flip the butt to the sidewalk. Like that was some sort of signal for Ava Gardner to pay attention. Sure, we’d go watch the old guy. Laugh at just how cool we were while he was just old.

Then Martin came onstage. In the tux. The look still there. Hollowed by the recent death of his son, he smiled and still radiated a presence that commanded you to pay attention. He smiled. And he had you. In 10 seconds, us 3 young punks were speechless. I’m sure we didn’t know why. We just knew that he made us stop the attitude, the bad jokes, the blind and crazy ignorance of those who think they know answers. And he did it with his presence. All he did was smile.

Here was a man who could instantly hold the attention of 3,000 strangers. As if it didn’t matter what he did. He told jokes. He sang “That’s Amore,” he did some shtick about being drunk, letting all of us in on the real joke which was of course that no one could have been more sober.

When the show was over. We three children in our trench coats stood up and started applauding. And we didn’t stop for a long, long time.

So as Charlie Sheen rambled up on stage. I couldn’t help but think about how hard it was to hold an audience just by being you.

There really isn’t much to report about the show. Which I guess is the point. The murmur of the crowd did include many who’s wish for a train wreck wasn’t real far under the surface. And some of that was fueled by the vodka, red bull, cranberry drinks that were going for about what we paid for both our tickets.

But the train wreck never happened. It was more like, standing on the train platform, the giant heaving locomotive chugging towards you, and you have the momentary fantasy, “What if this mountain of pulsating steel jumps the tracks and comes plowing right towards you? Instant and horrific death to you and the rest of the crowd on the platform?’

But instead what happens is that the locomotive pulls gingerly into the station, comes to a complete stop, and your drunk Uncle Fred stumbles off. You want to pretend you don’t know him. But he sees you, so you take him to get coffee before you drive him home to the scolding of Aunt Elizabeth.

Sunday night in Chicago, Charlie Sheen didn’t hurt anyone. (Except for a few ticket scalpers). He answered questions. Yelled at the audience a few times. People screamed every now and then. A bit like a family gathering of 3,000 where the beer is warm, the good appetizers have already been eaten, and nothing much happens.

When we left, it was raining in Chicago. A brilliant spring storm blowing in from the west. Lightening dancing and cracking across the sky. Thunder booming straight to your heart.

And somewhere Dean Martin is doing a little soft shoe slide step. His shoes so polished you can see them shine from the balcony. He is smiling. Winking and letting you in on the joke.

He takes another bow and the applause is just like the thunder. Booming straight to your heart.

While Dean Martin just smiles.



Author tags:show business, talent, what lasts?a