20 Years After Catholic Celebrity’s Death… How Time Has Flown Since Singer Perry Como’s Spirit Flew Away
By DEXTER DUGGAN
No matter how famous, wealthy, or powerful a person grows, those attributes must pass away here on Earth, as the person himself will. Just as the Bible reminds us.
That’s why it’s important to store up treasures to await us in Heaven, “where moths and rust cannot destroy them, and thieves cannot break in and steal” (Matt. 6:20).
The present moment may seem to dominate everything around us. So did 1995, and 1960, and any other past year. But they slipped away like sand in an hourglass.
Fame and wealth certainly were attained by twentieth-century Catholic crooner Perry Como, and undeniably any entertainer has power over popular sentiment when he remains a major public presence for more than a half-century. He won stardom not only in the U.S. but also overseas. One estimate of his net worth at death was $45 million.
With the month of May just past us, time truly has flown in the 20 years since Como’s death in May 2001, a few days short of his 89th birthday.
But, unlike a military general or globalist financier, “power” hardly sounded like the right word to characterize the easygoing, humble, and handsome Como, who always seemed willing to go back to his original occupation of neighborhood barber if the spotlight faded.
Still, many younger people now may not even know who Como was, just like most other big names who fade into history. That’s why friendship with God assures us the yearned-for timeless existence otherwise beyond attainment.
Quick, who was Asher Brown Durand? I didn’t recall hearing of him until one of his artistic works popped up on my computer monitor one day in mid-June. He was a once-famous American painter of the Hudson River School who lived through most of the nineteenth century and whose works still may sell for millions of dollars.
And if a renowned artist like Durand slips into the same anonymity that most people will who have ever lived, what of everyday people who faithfully do thankless daily duties during some decades — for 20 years or 50 years or 70 years — in one century or another and then disappear from the land of the living?
Do they just become nothing? Not if they go with God. Vaya con Dios.
Receiving different gifts from God, people decide whether and how to use them. Not everyone is suited to be a biologist or ballplayer. Como’s gift was a singing voice that became evident while he cut people’s hair as a youngster in small-town Pennsylvania.
And part of his appeal was his personality. No matter how fine the voice, a negative nature could have been a major impediment. He had a work ethic that inspired him to want to work his way up to having his very own barbershop.
He became known as the singing barber, and one step toward a musical career led to another. One night, the story goes, he was at a ballroom with friends when a band leader invited up anyone to sing who thought he had talent. Although Como reportedly was terrified at a public performance, his friends pushed him up.
The band leader was so impressed, he offered Como a contract. After talking over the idea with his father, he went on the road as the band’s singer. This led on to recording dates then network programs.
One self-effacing comment attributed to Como, looking back years later on his life, was, “For the amount of talent I had — and I couldn’t dance, act, or tell a joke — I enjoyed a tremendous career.”
Another comment was, “I’d perform with the world’s greatest artists, and then come home to the world’s greatest family” — wife Roselle and children Ronnie, Terri, and David.
Why not spend some time watching nostalgic videos of Como singing? Love and what lasts are strong themes. (Roselle died shortly after their sixty-fifth anniversary.) Among highlights are Till the End of Time, No Other Love, Magic Moments, And I Love You So, Round and Round, Catch a Falling Star, and It’s Impossible.
He’d make casual, possibly unconscious gestures as if he weren’t even on national television, like wiping his hand over his mouth, or running a finger down the side of his face. As the applause rose when the song ended, Como would give a friendly smile as if he simply appreciated the tribute. He looked like he was enjoying himself just being there.
And what about the gesture when he put one hand with the palm flat and downward, horizontally above his head, when one tune ended? Was he “crowning” himself for a good performance? Sending a visual signal to someone he knew? Being playful?
Como was born a first-generation American whose parents emigrated from Italy, and he didn’t begin speaking English until he entered school, according to Wikipedia. It goes on to say that when Perry and Roselle celebrated their twenty-fifth anniversary with a family trip to the Big Boot, they had an audience with Pope Pius XII, but Perry subsequently was upset to see that photos of the meeting gained wide publicity.
It turned out that the unwanted attention resulted from the Vatican press office itself having released the photos.
An Appealing Image
The 1940s and 1950s were a time in the U.S. when notable high-profile figures were practicing Catholics who showed they could be faithfully religious and also good members of the wider society. In those days “Catholic” didn’t have to be accompanied by the designation of “liberal” or “conservative.” Nor were Catholics expected to apologize if they didn’t promote a Culture of Death.
That era contributed to goodwill for the Church and an appealing image — even though the Church always is a hospital for sinners.
Como aged well and later did concerts overseas, from London to Tokyo. It’s interesting to watch his hair turn gray over the years, and his step eventually lose some of its spring. But people wanted to see and hear his talent in person, and he wouldn’t deny them.
The Long Island Press newspaper posted a story in November 2019 recalling that when Como lived on the north shore of that piece of New York land, he was active at Our Lady of Fatima Church and gave support to St. Francis Hospital.
Perusing accounts of Como’s life, one finds remembrances that may be true or apocryphal. One said that a publicist didn’t believe Como actually used to be a barber, until the singer proved it by giving him a haircut and shave. Another said that when he was working, Como asked his Jewish agent to stand in line for him at Confession in order to save time.
Como later moved from Long Island to spend his final decades at a residence on the east coast of Florida, then was buried from a Catholic church.
A story posted at Jupiter-inlet.net in November 2011 says that spacious home, of more than 5,600 square feet, was torn down by a new owner who didn’t feel much personal connection to Como, in order to make way for a larger house.
Just another reminder that no matter the square footage of a residence we may build on Earth, our lasting home must be the heavenly one.
