Tommy DeVito, the swaggering guitarist who had taught them all how to look like they didn't care, had bet on a horse that didn't exist. Actually, he’d bet on a horse that did exist, but the bookie didn't. Long story short, a man named "Chuckles" (and nobody named Chuckles should ever be taken lightly) had given Tommy until Friday to produce forty thousand dollars.
Frankie stepped forward. He was shorter than all of them, but in that moment, he seemed to take up the whole room. "We're not here for you," he said. "We're here for the music." members of the four seasons (band)
In the winter of 1975, the snow was piling up on the outskirts of Buffalo, New York. Frankie Valli was headlining a casino that hadn’t yet paid him. Bob Gaudio was in Los Angeles, producing a teenage duo that couldn't harmonize. Tommy DeVito was in debt to people who didn't send Valentine's cards. And Nick Massi—quiet, meticulous Nick—was driving a delivery truck for a dry cleaner, having legally changed his name to something nobody could pronounce. Tommy DeVito, the swaggering guitarist who had taught
They played for three hours. No breaks. No arguing. No mention of Chuckles, or debts, or casinos. Frankie stepped forward
They paid off Tommy's debt the old-fashioned way: they recorded the song, sold it to a producer, and split the advance four ways. Frankie gave Tommy an extra thousand for cab fare.
Frankie looked at the phone. Then he looked at the snow outside. Then he dialed Bob Gaudio's number in L.A.