Joe Valino: Learnin' the Blues (Pt. 2)

At its heart, jazz is a film noir, complete with intrigue, shadows, slashes of light, running footsteps, slamming doors, rough mugs, scheming dames, musical triumphs and personal disappointments. And a great soundtrack. The story behind Learnin' the Blues is no exception, complete with highs and lows, fate and fortune, happenstance and heartbreak. Since my first post   about the song's origins back on July 22, I did a bit more reporting. Here are a few more pieces of this fascinating puzzle:

• Singer Joe Valino [pictured] recorded the first single of the song for the Gold Star label in late 1954. "Dolores Silvers" received the sole writing credit on the single. According to images of the 45-rpm label, the song was registered originally with BMI. More below.
  

• Dolores Vicki Silvers [pictured], who is credited as the song's writer, was indeed a real person. Unable to find an interview with her when I originally researched my first post, I wondered in email exchanges with Sinatrafiles whether Silvers was a pseudonym for Phil Silvers and other friends of Sinatra. But it turns out there is a face behind the name. More below.

• I managed to track down Stanley Cooper, a former Barton Music Publishing executive now in retirement who in 1955 first heard the song's hit potential, signed Vicki Silvers to Barton Music, and brought the single to the attention of Frank Sinatra, who made it a hit. More below, in Stanley's own words.

First, for those who may have missed my original post, here's a brief recap:

Several weeks ago, Drew Techner alerted me to his YouTube posting of an exceedingly rare recording of Learnin' the Blues by singer Joe Valino (go here to hear it). The recording is so rare that many prominent Sinatrafiles said they only knew of it by name. The 45-rpm single features Valino [pictured] delivering a swinging, Sinatra-esque rendition of the song with a bluesy, honky-tonk arrangement.

What makes Valino's recording of Learnin' the Blues so important is its timing and influence on Sinatra's own interpretation of the song. In addition, the story behind the recording provides insight into the rough-and-tumble world of the music business in the 1950s. And the story sheds light on the life and tough breaks of a capable singer who struggled to gain national recognition but never quite made it all the way. Ironically, the song's title would become the story of Joe Valino.

Now let's pick up the story with the new information I gathered with the help of Drew Techner, Lisa Paolino and Stanley Cooper:

Last week I asked Drew Techner for a scanned image of the single that Valino recorded. Drew kindly sent them along. The image clearly shows that the song was recorded for Philadelphia's Gold Star label and that song's writing credit belonged solely to "Dolores Silvers." [click on the image to enlarge]

Curious about Silvers, I contacted Lisa Paolino, Joe Valino's niece. She confirmed that Silvers did exist and said her research showed Silvers did not have a U.S. Copyright registered for Learnin' the Blues until February 24, 1955—months after its Gold Star recording. Lisa also raised questions about whether the song was written solely by Silvers or in concert with Valino. Lisa sent along a clipping about Silvers and Valino from the Philadelphia Daily News of March 31, 1955. It reads, in part:

"[Vicki and her father] persuaded a record company into cutting it with Joe Valino vocalizing on the Gold Star label. First to predict its success were Joe Grady and Ed Hurst, who introduced the waxing on their WPEN program.

Valino's record proved a hit with disc jockeys here, started to catch on in other parts of the country. He has just returned from a disc jockey tour that took him as far as California.

Sinatra heard Valino's version, liked it—and the rest is history."

To close the Sinatra loop, I set off in search of someone familiar with the song's original acquisition by the Sinatra-financed Barton Music Publishing in 1955. After some digging, I contacted Stanley Cooper, who in the 1950s worked as a manager for several music publishing firms, including Barton Music. Stanley's job was to spot potential hits for Barton, acquire the rights, and match the song to a singer who had the best chance of making the song a hit. Back in those days, when a song was a hit, its publisher and writer made money based on units of sheet music and records sold and radio airplay.

Here's Stanley's story, in his words:

"Back in late 1954 or early 1955, two guys came up to my office at Barton Music on the fourth floor of New York’s Brill Building. They had a record they wanted me to hear. After we played it a few times, they asked me what I thought of the singer. I liked the singer fine, but I flipped over the song. It was Learnin’ the Blues. I thought the singer, a guy named Joe Valino, was good. But to me, he sounded too much like Sinatra. Dozens of singers were modeling their sound after Frank's. But the song, wow, that was different. It was a hit.

My job at Barton was to listen to songwriters’ songs and demo recordings and identify the ones that had the potential to be a big seller. I had managed a bunch of record stores on Sixth Avenue years earlier and had a knack for picking songs that would become hits. Record executives used to play songs for me to get my reaction before moving forward. So I became a publishing manager. But finding great songs was only half of it. You had to match a great song to the right singer. When that happened, you had magic. Great songs recorded by the wrong singers usually went no place. A song had to work with the singer's personality and style to connect. When you had that, the song clicked with the public and became a hit.

For example, when I first heard Cy Coleman's I'm Gonna Laugh You Right Out of My Life in 1955, I knew it was a hit. When I brought it to the attention of Nat King Cole, he played it on the piano while I sang the lyrics. Then he played and sang it about 20 times. He heard what I had heard and loved it. The next week, he recorded it, and the song hit the charts and the song became a standard.

The same thing happened with Earl and Alden Shuman's and Marshall Brown’s Seven Lonely Days in 1953. I first heard about the song from Elliott Kastner, a friend in the William Morris Agency mailroom. He called me and said his pals had written a lousy song but he was honoring a promise to call me. I said to send them over. When the writers arrived, we went into a studio and they played and sang it for a demo. I could hear right away it was great. I also knew the song would be perfect for Georgia Gibbs. When I went over to see her, she resisted. She thought it was too hillbilly. But the more she rehearsed it that day, the more she realized she had a hit on her hands. She recorded it that night and had a hit with it.

So back to Learnin' the Blues. I knew it was big. When I asked the two guys in my office who brought in the Joe Valino single for the name of the songwriter, they wouldn’t give it to me. They were there, in my office, for the singer, they said. After a while they told me that the songwriter was a woman named Vicki Silvers. I asked where she lived. They told me in Philadelphia. But they wouldn’t give me her address.

As soon as they left, I got on the phone and found out she was married to a guy named Arthur Silvers, a wealthy guy who was in the clothing business. When I called him up, sure enough, Vicki Silvers was his wife. So I told him who I was, that I worked for Sinatra's publishing company, and I made an appointment to meet with them the next day. Those two guys were in my office on Friday. I was on a train to Philadelphia the next morning to meet with Silvers.

When I got to the house, a woman who looked like Ava Gardner opened the door. I said I was there to see Miss Silvers. She told me she was Vicki Silvers. I was stunned. She looked like a movie actress. When I went in and spoke with Vicki and her husband, I told them I was crazy about the song and that I wanted to bring it to Sinatra. They were excited. I always carried blank contracts with me. When I took one out, they wanted to add a clause. It said that if within six months Sinatra had no interest in the song, the rights would return to Silvers.

I was fine with that. I knew that if Sinatra didn’t record it, the song wouldn't likely become big. So Vicki Silvers signed, and the copyright transferred to Barton Publishing, whose job it was to make the song popular. No advance changed hands. In those days, a song's writer made money only after the song hit and revenue came in through the sale of singles and sheet music.

When I returned to New York later that day, I brought the Valino single and Silvers contract to Frank Military [Sinatra's longtime aide]. He sent the record out with about 20 others to Sinatra. Sinatra received the package that Monday. Sinatra apparently went through all the demos in the package but the only one he picked was Valino singing Learnin' the Blues. He recorded it soon after, in March '55.

For bringing the song in, Ben Barton paid me a $100 bonus [laughs]—and he took all the credit for finding it. About a month later, I quit and took a job at Fischer Publishing.

Joe Valino didn't have a hit with Learnin' the Blues, but he benefited greatly from Sinatra’s success with the song. Thanks to the Sinatra single, Joe got more exposure for his version and landed a record deal with RCA."

So whatever happened to Vicki Silvers? According to Drew's updated research here (click on the "more info" link in the upper right-hand corner), the songwriter died in December 2007.

Summing up our timeline, here's how the story of Learnin' the Blues shakes out thus far:

• Dolores Vicki Silvers appears to have written much of Learnin' the Blues, based on the sole credit that appears on the Gold Star single, though Joe Valino likely played a role given their close working relationship.

• In late 1954 or early 1955, the Gold Star single was used by friends of Valino's as a demo to get the singer greater visibility and recognition. They took the song to Barton Music, which they surely must have known was owned by Sinatra. The move certainly was an attempt to position Valino as a singer similar to or on par with Sinatra.

• Stanley Cooper of Barton Music was attracted to the song, and days later he signed Dolores Silvers, the writer credited on the Gold Star single.

• Days after signing Silvers in early 1955, Stanley passed along Valino's Gold Star single to Frank Military, who sent it to Sinatra. This confirms that Sinatra was familiar with the Valino version before he recorded it for Capitol in March.

• In February 1955, an official U.S. copyright for Learnin' the Blues was filed by Silvers or agents working on her behalf.

• In March 1955, Sinatra recorded Learnin' the Blues with a Nelson Riddle arrangement for Capitol, turning the song into his only No. 1 single in the 1950s. Today, the song is registered with ASCAP.

And there you have the Learnin' the Blues story thus far. As always, if more news develops, you'll read it here first.

Special thanks: Hats off to Drew Techner for keeping me posted on this story and sending along label images of the Gold Star recording. Heartfelt gratitude to Lisa Paolino, Joe Valino's niece, who took time out of her busy schedule to scan clippings from Joe's scrapbook and pass along vital information about Dolores Vicki Silvers. She also narrowed the Gold Star recording date based on the music and tracked down the song's copyright date. And a big thanks to hit-maker Stanley Cooper for sharing his story about Learnin' the Blues and shedding light on the music publishing business in the 1950s.

Comments

[Jon Foley]

Marc:

Have you ever considered a second career as a private investigator? I see great potential for you in that field.

Jon

[Dan Serro]

In CAse anyone is interested. It is a strange thing that all the information on Joe Valino is about "Learnin' The Blues" and another records "Garden On Eden". Both records weer on 45 RPM vinyl. But nobody seems to know about the LP he made for the Debut label called "Sinner Or Saint".
Yes he does sound like Sinatra but a liuttle different. The album is very good and on a scale of 1 to 10 I would give it a strong 7 or 8. Great ballads and swingin medium tempo tunes.
Too bad he didn't get a chance to do anything else.
Dan Serro