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My Celebrity Crush

Bobby Sherman

By Susan Fleck PenningtonPublished 4 years ago 4 min read
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Bobby Sherman

On September 25, 1968, my first celebrity crush began. It also came crashing down on April 3, 1970, with the cancellation of "Here Comes The Brides."

Robert Cabot Sherman, better known as Bobby Sherman, played Jeremy Bolt, the youngest of the three Bolt brothers. He had the cutest stutter and the dreamiest blue eyes. I was only eleven when the show debuted, but my pre-teen hormones quickly kicked into overdrive. Every Friday night, I would plant myself, on the floor, directly in front of the only television in our house, and stake my claim for the next sixty minutes.

I soon learned my crush could sing. Oh, my God, could Bobby sing. My Mom, God love her, appreciating my adoration for the handsome star and desperate to quiet my ravings, somehow managed concert tickets. How she gathered enough strength to brave the trip, to this day, amazes me. Mom escorted me, two of my friends, and three of my cousins to the "experience" of our lifetime, at least the "experience" of a lifetime for six eleven and twelve-year-old girls. The memory ingrained in my brain WAS the best night of my pre-adolescent life.

I remember that night, my Mom, for the entire ride to Hartford, a good 45 minutes, kept reminding us to act like nice young ladies. "Don't get too rowdy," she said. Of course, we had never been to a concert before. We had no idea what to expect. All we knew was that Bobby would be there to sing to us. Of course, we weren't going to act like all those crazy girls we saw on TV. But then, the lights went down, and the announcer began, "Ladies, are you ready?" As Bobby's name melted gloriously off the announcer's tongue, the wild banshee screeches burst forth from our very souls. I honestly do not remember how long the concert lasted, but I know that we did not hear one word Bobby sang. The only thing we heard were screams from the crowd, screams that would echo in our ears all the way home. Tears flooded down our cheeks, our hands throbbed from endless clapping. Our throats burned, our vocal cords ravaged by incessant screams.

Suddenly, here it came, a sweet kiss, floating through the air, from his lips to mine. I reached out, grabbed it, and drew it close to my heart. Bobby had thrown me a kiss. I was smitten. My cousin swore it was for her, and tried to take it from me, but it was mine. All of Bobby's kisses were mine.

Every week, on shopping day, Mom would give me one dollar, it was amazing what you could buy with one dollar back in 1968. I would make my way into the magazine and record section of the store, searching every teen magazine, Tiger Beat, Sixteen, my absolute faves, for stories and pictures of Bobby. I would also pick up his newest release on a 45. I would then go home and play my new record over and over until I had written down every word so that I could sing along. I stripped every magazine of every dashing "Bobby" photo from its pages. Then, I would decorate my bedroom walls. By 1970, my room was a memorial to Bobby Sherman. Here and there, other attractive idols, also known as "heartthrobs," like Davy Jones, David Cassidy, and Kurt Russell, peeked out from the many faces of Bobby. But they were there, a testimony to the reality that a woman can find another man attractive, even if he doesn't get her whole heart.

On occasion, Mom would make plans for Friday nights. She had to drag me kicking and screaming from the house. Can you blame me? I mean it's not like we had options in 1968, there was no DVR, no streaming television. If you missed an episode, you literally would have to wait until Spring for the rerun. It was awful!

Every magazine offered ways to join Bobby's Fan Club, or contests asking, "How well do you know Bobby?" You could even win a trip to Hollywood to meet your heartthrob. I entered every single one.

Ah, the fantasies of little girls, in love for the first time. The laughter, the tears, are all a significant part of growing up and becoming amazing women. What would we do without our Bobby Sherman's, Elvis Presley's, and Frank Sinatra's? We learn a lot about life and love through our crushes. If only they knew how deeply we cared, how much we would have given, how crushed we were when they fell in love and married someone else.

They were practice runs. The practice all girls need. A practice that comes in handy when "real" boys enter our lives. Such is the syndrome known as the "celebrity crush," and no generation is immune to its force. Get jealous when you find out they have a girlfriend. Cry when you discover he's married, delight when you hear they've broken up. It was the "nightmarish" Hell of every teenage girl in America. But we craved it; after all, he was worth it.

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About the Creator

Susan Fleck Pennington

Susan Pennington was born in Norwich, Connecticut in 1956.

The author of “The Adventures of Toby and Doby,” Susan received her MA in Creative Writing in 2017.

You can find more of her writings on her website: www.susanpennington.website

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