"The year was 1958 and I was 14 years old. I had been watching this new TV show for a few months and I had already picked out my favorites among the teen-agers dancing across the screen. It was just by happenstance that I even found out about the show. One day at school I wore my new pleated front blouse and my straight skirt with the straps and a boy came up to me in the hall and said, "You look like a girl on that TV show - Arlene something." The show was American Bandstand and I had to turn it on to see the girl he was referring to. Every so often individuals would be singled out and featured in a spotlight dance or an interview or a rate a record segment. This enabled me to learn the names and a little bit about these teen-agers who seemed so like my friends and myself.

On impulse I wrote a letter to the host, Dick Clark, and asked him to interview my particular favorites, Arlene Sullivan and Kenny Rossi. Every day I raced home from school to tune in and catch up on the latest news from the Philly kids. One day I came home to find a letter addressed to me propped up on the fireplace mantel. I am sure I let out a little scream as I read the return address - Kenny Rossi, P.O. Box 6, Phila. 5, Pa. I tore open the letter and raced to the home of the one friend I had who shared my interest in Bandstand. I learned later that the letter was penned by one of the many friends and relatives who helped Kenny answer his volume of mail, but at the time it was just a thrill to find out you could send a letter to the show and actually get a response from the regulars.

That started a torrent of letter writing on my part and I was fortunate to start a correspondence with several of my favorites. I also got the added bonus of acquiring many pen-pals from around the country through fan clubs and networking.

Another of the regular dancers, Carole Higbee, and I "clicked" right from the start. In one of my letters to her, I casually mentioned how wonderful it would be to visit Philly and American Bandstand. To my joy and amazement, her letter in reply contained an invitation to stay at her home if I was able to make the trip. This was now the summer of 1959 and being only 15 years old, I figured I didn't stand a prayer of convincing my parents but it wouldn't hurt to try. My bombshell request was met by silence and the matter was dropped for several days. A week later I was stunned when my mother told me I could make the trip by Greyhound bus if someone would go with me. The obvious choice was my 17 year old friend Sigrid who had a love of dancing and was also carrying on correspondence with some of the regulars.

I telephoned Carole's house and left a message with her mother that we would be arriving two days later and that we would telephone when we got in. The next evening when we boarded the bus for the trip, I was overcome with apprehension and my stomach was in knots. What the heck was I doing? I was 15 years old and traveling 500 miles on a bus to meet a group of strangers - even though the magic of the TV screen made them seem like friends rather than strangers.

At one of the stops along the way, I purchased and chowed down on a bag of very greasy potato chips which didn't help my already upset stomach one bit. In Harrisburg, Pa we had a half hour lay-over and I wandered the streets around the bus station hoping that the fresh air would quell my rebellious digestive tract.

Soon we arrived in Philly at the Greyhound station on Market St. Lugging our suitcases, Sigrid and I started walking down Market. After all, Pop Singer's Soda fountain which was so much involved with American Bandstand was located on Market--how far could it be? Besides, Pop and I had exchanged many letters and it would be good to get to a place where a somewhat familiar person could be found. With my pea green face I stumbled down a few blocks but those addresses just weren't going by fast enough. Finally we decided to spend a few of the forty dollars my mother had slipped into my hand as we departed and we hailed a cab. When we arrived at Pop's, he welcomed us like long-lost relatives and slipped a couple of free cokes ("soda" as they say in Philly) across the counter.

From the pay phone, I called Carole and she asked, "Didn't you get my letter?" She explained that they were in the process of packing up for a move and she had written apologizing and asking if we could postpone the trip for a couple of weeks. I have to admit that a slight panic set in as I wondered what to do next. She spoke to her mom and then said if we didn't mind the mess, we were welcome to stay and she gave directions to her home. If I remember correctly, we had to catch a bus and transfer along the way but somehow we didn't get lost. As we disembarked the bus at the corner of a street parallel to Buist where Carole lived, we saw her running down the street toward us. Back at her home, her mom greeted us warmly and set down delicious warm rolls and orange flavored ice tea. In all the intervening years, I have never since tasted iced tea quite that good. The first and only rule that I can remember being given at the Higbee house was to nevertake food upstairs. Since it was a row house, it was way too easy for bugs to travel from one home to another and the home was kept spotless.

"Carole gave us a quick course in the expressions her crowd was using. They had adopted Pat Molittieri's favorite saying "How cheap!" which could be applied in many situations. For some reason, they also had picked up putting a "V" in front of every word that started with "R" so that "regular" became "vregular" - I have no idea why.

Soon it was time to freshen up, change our clothes and head back downtown to attend American Bandstand. At this point, the nerves and greasy potato chips staged a revolt and I showered, threw up my lunch, dressed and proclaimed myself ready to attend the show.

When we returned to 47th and Market, I could see a long line outside the studio. Carole found someone she knew at the front of the line and asked if we could wait there. Soon there was a chorus of "Hey, no cuts, get to the back of the line" and red with embarrassment we joined the end of the line.

Carole went into the building and came back out with the producer, Tony Mammarella, who personally escorted us into the studio.

It was unreal to actually be in the place I had watched faithfully every afternoon on the TV. One of the regulars I exchanged letters with was Denny Dziena and he had written that I should come up and introduce myself when I got to the show. I spotted him and did just that but was met with an "Oh hi" and he turned away. I hoped this was not a harbinger of what my long-awaited experiences were going to be. He did redeem himself later.

As I had sat watching the show at home and gotten glimpses of the bleacher stands, I had often thought to myself how silly those kids were to actually be in attendance and just sit in the stands. After a few attempts at dancing once the show started and experiencing an elbow here and a stomped foot there, I too retreated to the safety of the stands. It wasn't so much the fact that the kids were camera hogs (although there were a few of those) as much as it was that the studio was so much smaller in person. Besides, I soon learned that the regulars would come up to meet us and sit and talk with us in the stands.

Kenny Rossi had already left the show at this point and I was disappointed to find out Arlene Sullivan was on a trip to Texas with Barb Levick. Ar was dating Joe Wissert at the time and he was outside the studio also bewailing the fact that his partner was out of town. It was a letdown to come all that way and not be able to meet my favorite couple but it was still a treat to see all the regulars I had watched for so long. The little black and white television could not capture how good-looking the kids were in person. Carole Scaldeferri, Frani Giordano, AnnaMarie Andreozzi, Janet Hamill--they were gorgeous in the flesh. The guys too were better looking in person but I was impressed with the coloring, the hairdos and the dress of the female dancers.

I have seen in interviews that Carole Scaldeferri did not respond to fan mail but I did receive one short letter from her. Since this was a rarity, one of my pen-pals asked to see the letter and foolishly I sent it off to her. I never heard from her again or received the letter back. I guess that showed how much we valued anything having to do with the regulars - I couldn't believe anyone would steal a personal letter. I suppose celebrity performers were on the show the week I was there but I can't recall a one. A lot of the letters from regulars were "generic" since they were receiving hundreds of letters a week from strangers and it was hard to establish a relationship. Among those who wrote more frequently and more personally were Pat Molittieri, Peggy Leonard, Carole Gibson, and Judy Leibowitz. Judy was nice enough to invite us for dinner but our schedule was already so full that we didn't have time.

Joan Wollner was one of the lesser known but also one of the nicest regulars on the show. She was among the first to reply to my letters and she and I became close. We had spoken on the phone months before and when we hung up, Sigrid and I laughed about her "accent". Soon after the call, I received a letter from her telling me how "funny" we talked. She lived farther down on Buist Ave. (not in a row house) and after the show she and her mom stopped at Carole's and brought us to her house. Joan and I continued to write to each other until we were well into our twenties and married.

That evening back at Carole's I commented about how nice it would be to meet Kenny. That is when Carole informed me that he lived only one street over and we could walk over there. After dinner, we did just that only to learn that Ken was away at the shore. However, we spent an enjoyable time with his dad and brother Bob. Bob promised that he would have Ken come to Carole's house when he got home two days later. I telephoned home to share the excitement. Carole spoke with my mom and told her to be sure to watch the next day as she was going to get me in a spotlight dance. Back up in her room, she rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a guy's necktie. She said Kenny had given it to her to hold at one of the dances they attended and she gave it to me - I still have it.

Since Carole was the head of the regulars' "committee" we had no trouble getting into the show the remaining days. When Dick Clark picked dancers for the spotlight dance, he chose Carole and her partner and I was once more a bleacher sitter. I was in my glory soaking up the atmosphere and chatting with the regulars around me.

"That evening we drove to Pat Molittieri's house and I was pleased to learn she was as sparkly and vivacious and friendly in person as she was on the "tube". Again I phoned home with my report and since I had now perfected the Philly style of talking, my parents had some trouble understanding me. This time Carole informed my mom she should be sure to catch the show the following day because she was going to get me on rate a record. You guessed it! Carole and Sigrid were chosen to be participants in the record review and we had a good laugh over that. During the show an announcement was made that they would be taping that evening for an upcoming episode but of course, I thought it much more important to stay home at Carole's and wait for the promised visit from Kenny.

Ken arrived just as scheduled right after dinner and all my questions and entertaining conversation I had planned disappeared as I sat tongue-tied with a supercilious grin on my face. All too soon he had to leave but it was with a promise to keep in touch through letters and phone calls.

Since there was no Bandstand the next day, we went shopping in the morning at Wanamaker's department store. Ponchos at the time were quite popular and Sigrid wanted one. In Cleveland they were called "gauchos" (which is something quite different today) and when Sigrid asked the clerk about them we got nothing but a blank stare. Sigrid then did her best imitation of the Philly accent and uttered something that sounded like a drawn out g-a-h-cho. Carole was laughing so hard and told the girl "Don't mind them, they are from Cleveland" like it was a foreign country. We didn't find any ponchos/gauchos but we did decide to take the bus to Willow Grove Amusement Park. I was amazed as we walked down the midway and the older carny workers started yelling "Hey Bandstand, come take a try at this!" It seemed everyone watched the show and recognized the regulars. Back then they had a strictly enforced curfew in Philly and by the time we took the buses back we were out after hours. I was so scared as we made our way from the bus stop to Carole's house darting in and out of doorways every time a car would pass.

The following day marked the end of a glorious dream come true. We were catching the Greyhound bus back home at 6:00 in the evening but we had one last day at Bandstand. We packed our suitcases and took them on the bus to Pop Singer's where he let us store them until after the show. Before I left Carole's I slipped a $10 bill under her lamp to cover our meals for the week. Today it is hard to believe that that $10 did indeed cover the cost. At the studio I was again sitting in the stands feeling both happy and sad when Denny Dziena came up to talk. He apologized for his abruptness the first day and said he had been concerned because he wasn't sure his dancing partner, Annamarie, would be able to get in. After the show he accompanied us to Pop's and stayed with us until it was time to leave at 6:00 p.m. Back home I found Carole's letter waiting - it had arrived the day after we left. I also got a taste of what the regulars faced on a daily basis. Some of my peers were very impressed with my adventure and wanted all the details and some were jealous and snubbed me. For my part, I wasn't ready for the TV experience to be over and having learned the power of the pen, I whipped off a letter to a girl who was a regular on our local Bandstand show which was broadcast every Saturday. She responded with an invitation to attend the show and I became a regular attendee for several months. On more than one occasion, the camera caught me in a corner showing Philly dance steps to the other local dancers on the show.

I was still nursing my disappointment over not having met Arlene Sullivan when a letter from a pen-pal in Long Island, Nancy Korn, arrived giving me the phone number of a local AB fan named Marilyn. I phoned her and we became good friends. Marilyn's family was quite prominent and well-to-do (our Cleveland airport was named after her grandfather or great grandfather who had been mayor of the city). As I related my Philly experience I was floored when she told me she knew a girl who knew a lady whom Arlene visited frequently in a Cleveland suburb. She put me in contact with her and arrangements were made for me to finally meet Arlene on her next trip.

About six months later I got a call that Arlene would be in town the following week. When the day arrived, it seemed so strange to look out the window and see Ar approaching my house with her hostess and friend. I had also invited a few close girlfriends and we subjected Ar to autographing many pictures. After a while Arlene turned to Jeanne, her hostess, and announced "I like these girls - can we take them back to the house?" That was the start of many sleep-overs and visits every time Arlene would hit town. We went horseback-riding when she brought her cousin, Donna, along on one trip and that was hilarious. A one-armed guy who was cranky as all get out helped us mount the horses and then we had to go down a hill and through a river and up the other side. As we got into the woods, a thunderstorm broke out and frightened the horses. Sigrid had never ridden before and her horse at that moment decided to do his impression of a steeplechase champion and took off jumping over stumps and branches along the way. Arlene and Donna were laughing so hard they almost fell off their horses. When we finally got back to the barn, we were met with glares from the one-armed guy. I glared right back and dismounted with my nose in the air. I commented to Ar that he was still staring after us and she happened to get behind me and got hysterical. Here I had ripped the whole back seam of my jeans and had a major southern exposure going on. Back at Jeanne's house we would play the latest songs and dance in the den. Of particular fun was the skit Arlene would do to the popular "Gypsy" song, "Let Me Entertain You" - I don't think she ever could have made it as an exotic dancer.

On each trip into town, Arlene made it a point to set one day aside to visit with the children at a local orphanage. She would stay for hours reading to them and they adored her. Arlene spent a couple of months here going to business school and since Jeanne's mom lived right next door to her, they kept a bedroom there just for Ar when she came to town. Jeanne and her husband bought a new car for Ar's use when she came to go to school and they picked out a brown Cadillac because it would "look good with Arlene's coloring".

"In my senior year of high school I was crowned Homecoming Queen

and it was made even better when Arlene announced she would be in town that weekend. She came straight to the football field from the airport and I proudly introduced her to many of my classmates. She made me feel so proud when she turned to me and said "I can't believe I am here with the Homecoming Queen."

Whenever it was time for Arlene to fly back home, my friends and I would go to the airport to see her off.

Mar calls this group the "sleep-over gang" each time Arlene visited Mar in Ohio. For details on the picture as to who is in it, please see Mar's page where I just added the picture and details.
We had a rapid transit system which was similar to the el in Philly except that it was at ground level. By the time we would ride that and then a bus home from the airport, Arlene would be back at her house in Philly. One time we went to the airport to watch her leave and found ourselves in the midst of all these really huge men wearing red blazers. I got close enough to read the patch on the front and found out they were members of the Washington Redskins football team. I asked them who had won the game and one guy snarled "Your damn Browns." Then he pointed at Ar and asked "Is that girl from American Bandstand?" It is still funny to imagine these giants sitting around watching AB enough to recognize the regulars. In the meantime, I was keeping up my correspondence and phone calls with the Rossi family - Dad Vito, Brother Bob, Aunts Irene and Rose and Kenny himself.

In September of 1963 I was a working girl and decided I had to visit Philly once again. This time I would be driving there with my parents. Whenever I spoke on the phone to the Rossi house, it was usually to Mr. Rossi or Bob since Ken was frequently on the road making singing appearances. This time I made the call person-to-person to Kenny and he happened to answer. I guess he hadn't listened to the operator because when he heard my voice, he said, "I'm sorry, Mar, Bob's not home." I told him I had called to talk to him and he said, "Wow, Marian from Ohio is calling and she wants to talk to me"-like it was some big deal. I told him we were coming to town and he began giving me directions to the apartment they had moved to on Blue Grass Rd. He was looking out his window and told me they were doing some building construction across the street. All of a sudden he let out a yell and told me a sign had gone up and "It's a Dairy Queen, a Dairy Queen!"

We started on the trip at night and it was an adventure. There were not many cars on the Pa. Turnpike but there sure were enough busses and trucks. It was nail-biting time on each hill as the semis struggled on the ascent and the busses were barreling down the hill behind us. We finally arrived safely and braved the traffic on Roosevelt Blvd. There were four lanes going in each direction and those familiar with the road were zipping in and out and changing lanes furiously. We spotted a nice motel named The Hub and booked a room.

I called Kenny to let him know we were there and he told me he had practice with his band that night but he promised to call when he returned. After several ring-around-the-rosies on Pennypacker Circle my parents got straightened out and went away for the evening. I sat in that motel room all alone waiting for the phone to ring. Finally at 10:00 p.m., filled with frustration, I placed a call to Ken's house. He answered and told me had just gotten in and taken off his shoes--that he was tired and was doing to bed and he would call in the morning. It had been four long years since our brief meeting at Carole's houses and I knew he didn't remember what I looked like. I told him he just thought I was fat and ugly and didn't want to see me and he responded that even if I were, he would be nice to me. I was a nervy girl in my youth and I told him that I had spent that whole evening alone in a motel room and if I weren't going out with him, I was going with someone else. My challenge must have been intriguing because he told me he would be there in ten minutes.

About ten minutes later I heard a knock on the door and I opened it with a flourish--to find my parents standing there! The look on my face must have told the whole story because they laughed and reached around the corner and told me "Look what we found in the parking lot." Here they had arrived back just as Ken pulled in and he saw the Ohio plates and together they cooked up the joke. After a few minutes of conversation, he asked their permission to take me out for coffee. Once in his car, Kenny told me I was really very pretty and I replied that actually I was fat and ugly and he was just being nice. That broke any uneasiness and we headed to Linton's Restaurant. There we ran into his manager, Charlie Bianchini, and we had a nice visit. After Charlie left, Kenny took my hand across the table and sang "The Girl That I Marry". Ken was always a flirt - so was I - but he had and still has a wonderful way of making everyone feel they are special. All the same, I was glad I had polished my fingernails.

As he dropped me off and kissed me good-night, we made plans to go to Liberty Bell Harness Racetrack the next night. The next evening at exactly the appointed time there was a knock on the door. (Subsequently I found out this was a rarity - if Kenny tells you a time, you can plan on starting to get ready at that time as an hour's tardiness is not unusual.) I opened the door and was surprised to see Kenny and Arlene and her date waiting there. We went in two cars to the racetrack and Ar got bored very quickly and decided to leave. I had been to harness races before and knew quite a bit about the terminology but pretended to be a novice and let Ken educate me. My ruse was soon discovered as the excitement of the race overtook me and I blurted "He is parking our horse out." Kenny said "I thought you didn't know about this" and I had to fess up.

"The next day I called Carole Higbee to let her know I was in town. She was newly married and had just gotten her first apartment and invited us over the following day. I had let my pen-pal Nancy from Long Island know I would be in Philly and she and her sister came down from New York. We met somewhere in downtown Philly. Her cousin was attending a seminary school in Germantown and we bussed out there to visit him.

That night Kenny, my parents and I went to Liberty Bell Racetrack again. My dad was teasing Ken and asked him to show us how the horses ran. Of course, Kenny did and we all had a good laugh. Afterwards we went to the Rossi apartment and had a very enjoyable evening with him, his dad and Charlie, his manager. At one point, Charlie passed behind Ken's chair and rubbed his head and looked at my dad and asked "What does your daughter see in this brillo head?" Ken had just recorded a new song and played it for us. After a minute or two, he looked at my dad and asked "Is that enough?" To my horror my dad said yes but Kenny just laughed and gave me the record.

The next morning my parents and I went to breakfast at Linton's and since we were leaving that day, Ken had asked me to call him before our departure. I phoned from the restaurant and he asked what our plans were. When I told him we were stopping at Carole's, he asked if he could come along and he met us at Linton's. We had a nice visit with Carole and she made me some orange flavored iced tea for old time's sake.

Now it was back to reality in Ohio but I couldn't get Philly out of my system. Carole's mom had told me once that she knew I would wind up back there since I had such a love for the city. If there is anything to reincarnation, I must have been Ben Franklin in a previous life.

In May of 1964, the itch to return hit me again. We packed the car and once again I set off with my parents. By this time Ken's family had moved to Marshall Rd. in Upper Darby so we found a motel nearby in Glenolden. I had read in one of the fan magazines that Kenny liked girls with red hair so I had applied an auburn rinse to my hair. The motel had a full length balcony so when he arrived, I went out on it to let the sun catch my auburn tint. As he came up the stairs, he asked "Since when do you have red hair?" I told him it was always like that - he just hadn't seen it in the sun. We went to one of his band rehearsals and I was flattered when he asked my opinion of the various versions of each song. One of the band members asked him why he was asking me since I 'wouldn't tell the truth anyway.' Kenny stuck up for me and told the guy 'Yes she will.' On the way home we had a lot of fun with me throwing him lyrics to songs and him belting them out in full voice. 'Someone to Watch Over Me' was a special favorite.

Back at the motel, we spent quite a while in the car talking. After a long kiss, I started to say something and Ken stopped me. He told me he was never going to marry and I responded 'Oh yes, you will.' Then he laughed and said 'Well, maybe when I am 35, old and fat.' (We had to be young to think 35 was old!). I smiled and told him I was sure it would be before that. He laughed again and asked 'Oh really, and to who?' I just grinned and pointed to myself. He grew quiet and told me he would never do that to me because I was too nice a girl. All the while I was thinking 'let's elope tonight'. Haha! We made plans to go to the shore with my parents the next day but in the morning Ken called to tell me he had been called to fill in on a gig and would be leaving town. I was afraid that maybe the deep conversation had scared him off. I telephoned Arlene and she invivted us to her house for dinner where Mrs. Sullivan prepared a delicious meal of roast beef.

That night we decided to cut the trip short and just head home so we left the next day. It would have been nice to do some sigh-seeing but every time we tried to get somewhere in Philly, we wound up on a bridge going to New Jersey and had to find our way back. On my return, I soon received a letter from Kenny that he had written from the gig in Detroit and was relieved to see nothing had changed between us.

above is 1964 Christmas card from Kenny to Marian

In 1966, my friend Linda and I went to Florida for four months. Kenny was supposed to have a gig in Miami so I borrowed a car from a guy I was dating and drove down. As luck would have it, the gig had been canceled. Before too long, I realized that I had been suffering from an idol worship crush on Ken and it wasn't real. I married the guy whose car I had borrowed. (We just celebrated our 41st anniversary and we still laugh about the hours of Bandstand conversation I put him through while we were dating). That Christmas I received a card with congratulations from Kenny.

I didn't have any contact with Ken or Arlene for many many years. Carole and I continued to write through the births of her three children but then lost contact.

In 2002 a wave of nostalgia overcame me and I emailed the AB fan club president to see about re-establishing contact with Arlene and Kenny. He forwarded my email to Kenny and I was pleasantly surprised when he responded and said he remembered me. We have kept in touch since. I wrote to Arlene in care of her employment and she telephoned the fan club president to tell him to give me her phone number. I happened to be on the computer when the email from him came through and I called her immediately. When she answered and I identified myself, she laughed and said 'That was quick.' We had a nice catch-up chat and have talked many times since. They are both just as nice and real as they were as teen-agers and I dearly value their friendship.

Those were such happy times and I wish the youth of today could have something as innocent and wholesome on which to focus their attention. The regulars were our version of movie/rock idols and yet they were approachable and you could forge a lasting friendship with them."

Marian Driscoll