Ken would later recall he spent extra time on every song, making sure each note was perfect. I thought he was just being professional, but looking back, he was memorizing everything one last time. Dean’s daughter, Dena, noticed that her father seemed more sentimental than usual. During a dinner in February, Dean pulled her a “Honey, I want you to know how proud I am of you,” he said, holding her hands.
“You’ve become such a wonderful woman, and I love you more than words can express.” Dena was touched but confused. “Dad, where is this coming from? Is everything okay?” Dean smiled, that famous smile. “Everything’s perfect, sweetheart. I just wanted to make sure you knew.” Similar conversations occurred with all of Dean’s children over the next few weeks.
Each received what seemed like spontaneous expressions of love and pride, but were actually carefully planned goodbye. The most heartbreaking goodbye came in early March when Dean visited Frank Sinatra. Frank had been dealing with his own health issues and wasn’t performing much anymore, but the two old friends still maintained their friendship.
Dean drove to Frank’s Beverly Hills estate on March 8th, exactly one week before his final performance. Dino. Frank greeted him with their characteristic bear hug. “What brings you by, Pali? Just wanted to see my old friend,” Dean said. “Remember when we used to think we’d live forever?” Frank laughed. But there was something in Dean’s tone that made him look closer.
“You feeling okay, Dino? You sound a little nostalgic?” Yeah, I guess I am. Dean settled into the familiar chair he’d sat in countless times over the decades. Frank, I need you to know something. What’s that? You’ve been the best friend a guy could ask for. The Rat Pack Vegas. All those years, they were the best of my life because of you.
Frank was quiet for a moment. Dino, you’re talking like you’re saying goodbye. Dean forced a smile. Nah, just getting sentimental in my old age. But I mean it, Frank. Thank you for everything. When Dean left that afternoon, Frank stood at his window watching the car disappear down the driveway. Something felt final about that visit.
But Frank couldn’t put his finger on what. March 5, the night that would become Hollywood legend. The MGM Grand was sold out. 2500 people who had come to see the king of Cool perform what they thought was a triumphant return to the stage. Backstage, Dean’s family had gathered to support him. His children were beaming with pride, excited to see their father back in his element.
His grandchildren were running around, thrilled to see grandpa perform. What they didn’t know was that Dean had specifically requested this night, this venue, this moment, because he wanted his final performance to be perfect places. Mr. Martin. The stage manager called. Dean took a deep breath. In the 3 months since his diagnosis, the cancer had progressed exactly as Dr.
Goldman had predicted. Dean’s energy was flagging. And there were mornings when he could barely get out of bed. But tonight, somehow he felt strong. “How you feeling, Dad?” Dena asked, straightening his bow. “Never better, sweetheart.” Dean lied. As the curtain rose and the spotlight hit him, Dean Martin walked into the light for the final time.
The performance that followed was unlike anything Dean Martin had ever delivered. Every song seemed to carry extra weight. Every lyric seemed to mean more than it ever had before. He opened with Everybody Loves Somebody, his signature song, but his delivery was different. There was a tenderness, a vulnerability that hadn’t been there in previous performance.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Dean said to the crowd. It’s wonderful to be here with all of you tonight. Really wonderful. He performed that some more. And when he got to the line about seeing the moon, he looked directly at his family in the front row. Dena later said she felt like her father was singing just to them.
But it was during memories are made of this that the audience began to sense something special was happening. Dean’s voice cracked slightly on the word memories and he paused for just a moment to compose himself. You know, Dean said to the audience, “I’ve been blessed to make a lot of memories in my life. Tonight is one of them.
” Halfway through the show, Dean did something that surprised everyone, including his band. He deviated from the planned set. I’d like to sing a song that isn’t on the program tonight. He announced, “It’s a song I’ve never performed in public before, but it means something special to me.” The band looked at each other, confused.
Ken Lane at the piano had no idea what Dean was playing. Dean walked to the edge of the stage, closer to the audience than he had been all evening. This song is for everyone I’ve ever loved and who has ever loved me. He began to sing the way you look tonight. A capella without any instrumental accompany. His voice still smooth despite his illness filled the theater with a pure emotional rendition that brought tears to eyes throughout the audience.
When he finished, the entire theater was silent for several seconds before erupting in the longest standing ovation of Dean’s career. For his final song, Dean chose Fly Me to the Moon, Frank Sinatra’s signature tune, the choice was deliberate. It was his tribute to his best friend and his way of saying goodbye to the life they had shared.
As the last notes faded, Dean stood center stage and looked out at the audience. “Thank you,” he said simply. “Thank you for everything.” The audience was on their feet, applauding wildly. Dean’s family was crying, not from sadness, but from pride and joy at seeing their patriarch deliver such a magnificent performance. But as Dean took his final bow, those in the front row saw something that would haunt them forever. Dean Martin was crying, too.
Not tears of joy, but tears of goodbye. As he walked off stage, Dean stopped and looked back one final time. This is it, folks,” he whispered again, just as he had when the show began. Backstage after the show, Dean’s family surrounded him with congratulations. The performance had been magical. They said he was back.
They said maybe he would tour again. They Dean smiled and accepted their praise, but he was exhausted in a way that went beyond the normal fatigue of performing. He was dying and the effort of giving everything he had for one last show had taken nearly all that remained. Dad, that was incredible.
His son Richie said, “When’s the next show?” Dean looked at his son, his talented, loving son, who had no idea this was goodbye. There won’t be a next show, son. Tonight was perfect. Let’s leave it at perfect. The family assumed he was just being dramatic. Dean had always been prone to grand statement. They had no way of knowing that within nine months their father would be gone.
The months following the MGM grand performance were a masterclass in deception. Dean managed to hide his deteriorating condition from everyone who mattered to him. When he became too weak to visit friends, he claimed he was feeling antisocial when his appetite disappeared. He said he was on a diet.
