DISPATCH FROM SALT LAKE: DONNY OSMOND'S PERSONAL GIFT TO ME
By JOHN YOUNGREN
SALT LAKE CITY -- Every once in a while, life hands you a little gift: You find a dollar in a parking lot. You make three green lights in a row. You get to work late but realize the bosses are gone.
Me, I was looking for such a gift. It's been a rough stretch. The new job's a hassle and the kids have the flu. I've been trying to pay the bills, keep up with work and not have a heart attack along the way.
Seriously.
My health's been a little off and I've been a little burned out. It's the dog days of summer -- the time of year when you're just playing out the stretch, trying not to focus on the fact that you're 22-1/2 games behind the league leaders, simply looking for the weather to break and hoping something will come along to give you a third wind as you head to September.
I got the gift Thursday night, totally unexpectedly. KSL-Channel 5, the NBC affiliate here in Salt Lake City, was holding a fall premiere party for advertisers and clients. It was a '50s-themed party held in the gymnasium at West High School. They had hamburgers and hula-hoops. They had milkshakes and a band playing hits from the '50s and early '60s.
They had Donny Osmond.
Now, I'll be the first to admit that I've never been particularly fond of the Osmonds overall -- but I've always liked Donny and his sister Marie. How could you not? I used to watch their TV variety show in the '70s, and my sister and I had their "Greatest Hits" album, and I can still find myself humming "I'm a little bit country … and I'm a little bit rock-n-roll," if it's a lazy summer night and I've had too much Merlot.
Thursday at West High, Donny was one of the celebrity guests -- along with the KSL news team (somewhat anti-climactic) and Caroline Rhea, who will be taking over this fall as the new host of what had been known as "The Rosie O'Donnell Show."
Though all the KSL personalities and behind-the-scenes people were dressed like some version of '50s greasers or bobbysoxers, it was easy to spot Donny: Though shorter than he appears on TV (what celebrity isn't?), he was dressed all in black and making his way around the room, flashing that mouth of Osmond pearly caps wherever he went.
The KSL people were introducing him around, for -- in addition to the obvious Utah ties -- Donny is going to host a new game show, "Pyramid," an updated riff on the old game show "The $20,000 Pyramid," to be broadcast this fall in syndication.
Around 6:30 p.m., or about an hour or so into the evening, they called Donny up front to say "hi" to the audience along with Caroline Rhea, and both of them were forced to go through some idiot routine along with Jeff Olson, a local actor/comedian (and I use the terms loosely), who was playing the role of the principal of the school. Donny and Caroline gamely answered a few questions and then started to walk away.
And then, the damndest thing happened: The '50s cover band, maybe suitably made up of members who looked like they might all be in their '50s, began playing the first few notes of "Puppy Love," far and away Donny's biggest hit of all time.
And you know what? Donny playfully took the mike, told the guys in the band to adjust to "his key" and began singing the song.
"And they called it puppy love/
Oh I guess they'll never know/
How a young heart really feels/
And why I love her so…"
Donny started off by goofing around, but that's the thing about talent. Even while improvising around his key, even after just grabbing the random microphone they had been using in the principal skit, even to a gymnasium full of half-listening clients and advertisers and Dick Nourse and Caroline Rhea, Donny quickly found his stride.
"And they called it puppy love/
Just because we're seventeen/
Tell them all it isn't fair/
To take away my only dream…"
What's funny is, Donny had the attention of most of the audience now, and he even gestured for a young woman in the audience to come out and dance with him. And, as strange as it all was, as disjointed and incongruous as it still seems, I couldn't help but think, "Damn, this is Donny Osmond. And he's singing fucking 'Puppy Love.'"
"I cry each night these tears for you/
My tears are all in vain/
Oh I'll hope and I'll pray that may be some day/
You'll be back in my arms once again…"
Now, don't get me wrong: I don't have Donny posters tacked to my wall, and I never owned a "Puppy Love" single. The song's not exactly "Imagine" or "Born In The U.S.A.," either (though did you know Paul Anka wrote it?).
"Someone help me, help me please/
Is the answer up above/
How can I ever tell them/
This is not a puppy love…"
Maybe, not a big deal. Me? I guess I just thought it was interesting that on this night, at this place, in this city, totally unexpectedly and undoubtedly good-humoredly, Donny Osmond delivered maybe the most famous song of his career with a wink and a smile. And you know what? He sounded pretty good doing it, too.
"Someone help me, help me please/
Is the answer up above/
How can I ever tell them/
This is not a puppy love."
It's been a long year, and a longer summer. Health and home are still concerns. Thursday night, I got an unexpected gift.
It won't carry me through till September, but it helped in its own way. Though this is not a puppy love.
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