He was born in 1950, the son of an actor and actress. When he turned 20, he joined the cast of a television show that portrayed a traveling family rock band. His producers didn’t care whether or not he could sing because his good looks would carry the show. And they did. But after season one, he convinced his producers that his voice could carry the show as well. And it did. David quickly became the adolescent heartthrob of girls across America—and his song “I Think I Love You” shot to the top of the charts. At the height of his popularity in 1972, he sold out Madison Square Garden in one day and performed before two back-to-back sell-out crowds at the Houston Astrodome of 56,000 each. His fan club numbers surpassed Elvis Presley. Really. But the pressure of being a celebrity grew so intense that David consciously imploded it. He divulged his alcohol and drug abuse in a magazine interview and then quit touring and acting in his television show. Instead, he focused on his songwriting and recording career. Then he registered another hit in Great Britain, “I Write the Songs,” penned by an obscure, young songwriter named Barry Manilow who later recorded it himself and became much more famous than David. The singer continued recording hits in Great Britain and Europe. Then he directed his energies toward theater and starred in “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat” on Broadway to great acclaim. In the 1990s he recorded more Top 40 hits before hosting a show on cable television and eventually starring in a popular Las Vegas show. Granted, David fought his demons. He struggled with alcoholism and multiple broken marriages before being diagnosed with dementia. Three years ago, he began experiencing liver and kidney failure and passed away a week later. By now, if you’re a Baby Boomer, I’m sure you know his name.
JUST. WRITE. THE. BOOK. |
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