It was 1955. I was a young Air Force officer sitting in the diner in Dover Delaware with a girl I recently met named Jeanine. She was from Tennessee and had just introduced me to Elvis on the juke box singing “You Ain’t Nothing But a Hounddog.” She was overcome with him as I remember the teen girls behaving about Sinatra some 15 years earlier. I was not impressed. But then she played another of her favorites, Tony Bennett singing “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” and I was sold. I was a big fan of his my whole life. He will be missed
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