I’ll venture
a guess that most of the younger generation have never heard of Connie Francis,
although she was quite a popular singer, actress and celebrity when I was a
child. I enjoyed her as an actress, along with her movies. She was a petite
woman with a powerful voice. And she possessed a vibrant personality that exuded
genuine warmth. But when it came to singers, I was more of a Leslie Gore fan.
Back then,
it seemed every time I turned on the radio Leslie was belting out: “It’s my
party and I’ll cry if I want to!” I loved bopping around to that song and
Leslie sang it with gusto. I often joined in with my shrill off-key voice.
Leslie’s
songs were geared to young teens & pre-teens like me. Connie’s were for an older,
more sophisticated crowd.
By the mid
1960’s both singers’ popularity was on the wane. The public’s taste had changed,
and they were being replaced by rock groups. However, Connie & Leslie still
had their fans.
Fast forward
to the 1974, I was shocked and saddened to learn that Connie Francis was raped at
knife point in a hotel room after being awakened from sleep. She sued the hotel
chain, stating faulty locks. She won! But the large amount was not enough in my
opinion. No woman should have to endure that!
Her attacker
was never caught.
But I
dispute the faulty lock, based on a personal incident.
During my elementary
school years, Miami was almost my home away from home. My parents loved the
shopping & nightlife there. So, we spent at least one weekend a month
there.
I was too
young for the nightlife, and I found the shopping tedious, so I spent much of
the time cooped up in a motel room. At night, my parents didn’t usually return
until long after midnight.
One evening,
they were exhausted and decided to stay in. We went to bed around 11:00 PM. About
twenty minutes later while still awake, I heard a key turning in the lock. Suddenly
light from outside came streaming in. A heavy-set man in a suit entered.
My father
hollered out, “You’re in the wrong room!”
The man
mumbled an apology and hastily departed.
What
unnerved me most was the stranger’s key fit our lock, making it easy for him to
enter. I began to wonder if all motel/hotel locks & keys were secretly
interchangeable. I doubt Connie Francis lock was faulty, any more than ours!
And I was
fortunate that my parents decided to stay-in that night.