Thanks to Angela who shared this post via email. I googled and discovered it is written by Paul Anka and featured in The Daily Mail last year.
Even before I hit my teens, my fantasies centred on hanging out with Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr. In my dreams, I was living in Las Vegas. And then, bang, I was actually there.
I was a middle-class, 19-year-old of Lebanese extraction and less than spectacular looks who’d had an unexpected Number One hit with my song Diana.
The year was 1959, when Vegas was just a few hotels surrounded by sand and sagebrush — and controlled by the Mob. But it truly was a teenager’s fantasies come true: hot chicks, champagne on ice, gold-plated pink Cadillacs, sharkskin suits.
Read more AT THIS LINK.
*P.S. I *heart* this article!