By Steve Vertlieb: I met Tommy De Noble in 1967 when I was working as an announcer at WDVR Radio in the old Reynolds Aluminum Building in Bala Cynwyd, Pa. We were introduced by Phil Stout, the Station Manager. Tommy was one of the most handsome men I’d ever met. He was a singer, recording artist, and actor. He might have passed for James Darren’s twin brother. Dick Clark wrote in his book that Tommy was “the most popular dancer in the history of American Bandstand.”

Tommy had just returned from a stint in the Army on the West Coast, and was looking for work in the Philadelphia area. Tommy and his brothers, Vince and Lou, were all from Philadelphia, but Tommy had gone to Hollywood to make his fortune. He had won a gold record for his recording of “Count Every Star,” and appeared in several motion pictures and television shows but, after his required stint in the military, gigs out West had somehow disappeared.

When Tommy returned at last to Philadelphia, he began singing at a variety of clubs and restaurants in The Delaware Valley, and became quite popular in the local nightclub scene. I’d often visit him at these gigs, and trade barbs and one-liners from the floor.

Somewhere around 1975, Tommy landed a position as film director at WTAF TV 29 in Philadelphia. We had become best friends and brothers in the ensuing years, and Tommy offered me a job as a film editor at the television station. He said that he wanted people around him that he could trust. I accepted, and there began the happiest employment that I’ve ever known. I was with WTAF for twelve years, from 1976 until 1988. Fleshing out the remainder of the film department were a very gifted artist named Bill Levers, and Tommy’s younger brother, Vince.

The four of us soon became inseparable. We went everywhere together, and laughed from morning until night. Bill was one of the funniest men I’ve ever known, and Vince became like my own little brother. We were quite literally “The Four Musketeers.” I’d grow excited each morning when I left for work, and become depressed in the late afternoon when it came time to leave work and return home.

In 1979 when Tommy and his sweetheart, Loretta, married, Tommy asked me to invite my parents to his wedding, and asked if I’d serve as an usher in his wedding party. I said that I’d be honored to be a part of the ceremony. Here are Tommy and Loretta, Vince and Patty, Lou and Terry, and I on that wonderful day forty-two years ago. Our friendship and association were so immeasurably tied to one another that, for a time, I even dated Edie, the daughter of his long-time accompanist, Eve Ross.

Our happiness was not to last, however. After a dozen years with the station, Taft Broadcasting sold us to a tiny, fly-by-night chain that set about cutting corners, and eliminating personnel. I was laid off, and never again returned to the field that I hoped would constitute my life’s career. Some years later, on January 19, 2004, after Tommy had suffered a series of strokes, he passed away of sepsis. Vince asked me to read the scriptures at his funeral service.

At Tommy’s memorial, a group of us stood around, in disbelief, talking and remembering our friend and co-worker. As we prepared to leave, one by one, the room had grown silent. A CD of Tommy’s recordings had been playing over the loudspeaker. Tommy’s voice sang ever so sweetly across the room. The lyrics of that last song haunt me still … “For all we know, we may never meet again.” Tommy was singing goodbye to his many friends and loved ones.

I received a telephone call a few years ago from Vince’s wife, Patty. She said that, like his older brother before him, Vince had suffered a stroke. I wanted to come and visit my old friend and co-worker, but Patty was valiantly protecting her beloved husband’s dignity.

She wanted Vince to be remembered as we had known him in happier times. Vince passed away, sadly, in June of 2019, joining Tommy in Heaven. As I left the funeral home and church, I got into my car, and turned on the radio. I drove along the lonely streets in quiet disbelief, and softly cried. Nat King Cole was singing “For all we know, we may never meet again.”

++ Steve Vertlieb January, 2021