A lot of people have been weighing in on the death of Dick Clark. Here’s more perspective.
I grew up in one of the row-house neighborhoods of Philadelphia. We knew Bandstand before it was “American Bandstand.” And once, while still in 8th grade, three buddies and I took advantage of a holiday (in honor of the patron saint of St. Timothy’s Catholic Church and School) to cross the city via bus and elevated train to West Philly and the WFIL studios where American Bandstand played out each weekday from 3:30 to 5 pm.
Garbed in coats and ties, we queued up with the early-arriving out-of-towners and were admitted, although underage. We were mesmerized, pimply and out of our league. The regulars were cool and celebrity-like; they even received fan mail. There they were: Arlene and Kenny, Bob and Justine. Yo, this was way more fascinating than a Phillies game. Plus, an almost-attractive girl from New Jersey asked me to dance on a “lady’s choice.” Wow, I was on TV.
But we had been warned by the director on the way in not to mug for the camera or chew gum. Left unsaid: “Teens across the country are tuning in to see the regulars–not you. You’re lucky we let you in. Don’t forget it. Enjoy.”
The revelation, in addition to how good Bobby Freeman (“Betty Lou’s Got a New Pair of Shoes”) could lip sync was, well, how uncool Dick Clark was. He had that Fred Astaire hair that made him look older–to us–than 30. He was short enough to need a fruit crate to stand on behind that iconic bandstand.
But he was nice. Not just TV nice. Or image nice. You could tell off camera. He didn’t just mingle with the regulars and line up his Clearasil cue cards.
Over time I would realize that while rock music would always be a generational divide, Dick Clark helped bridge it. My parents didn’t like Little Richard or Jerry Lee Lewis. Not even close. But Dick Clark gave them pause. He was pleasant; he was polite. He was a gentleman. If Dick Clark approved, how threatening could this music be? That would matter. In his own way, he made being nice cool.
We’ve talked about this before, Joe. In all the tributes I heard and read on Clark, you’re the first one to mention how he almost singlehandedly brought rock and roll into the American mainstream. His clean-cut image made many parents feel comfortable with the “race music” that many tried to label this new (to white America) musical format. In short, his blandness had a very revolutionary effect on our popular culture.