Semi-retired singer keeps a load of memories and a tune at the ready

Whenever I see Johnny Ventura coming, I can't help but think of stardust.

Not the casino, but the astronomical image of tiny particles of stars that fall to Earth. Stardust also connotes a person with a dreamlike, romantic or uncritical sense of well-being.

That's Johnny.

He was never a star in his own right, or even in half-light, and he'll tell you that. Like so many dreamers from distant constellations, Johnny fell to Earth in the Las Vegas of the early 1960s that lit up the night sky with neon and possibilities. He learned long ago that not everyone becomes a star, but being a little stardust has its advantages.

Johnny was raised in Utica, N.Y., and came West after the Navy. In Los Angeles, he tried his hand at acting and recalls playing a bartender in "Gunsmoke in Tucson," a 1958 Western starring Forrest Tucker. In the movie, the bartender leaves town.

In reality, so did Johnny.

By 1961, he was in Las Vegas trying to catch on as a lounge singer and entertainer. He sang as Giovanni Ventura at the Desert Inn, Sands, Sahara and Stardust. He was a jack-of-all-trades with a joker in his pocket and show business in his blood.

"'Come Back to Sorrento' was my signature song," Johnny says of the Ernesto DeCurtis tune, humming a little of the melody with his upstate New York baritone.

I hear Dean Martin did all right with it, too.

Let him tell you about the great times he had in the Vegas that today exists mostly in faded postcards. He's proud of sitting in at the Sahara's Casbah Lounge with Louis Prima, Keely Smith and Sam Butera.

"Nobody could play 'Come Back to Sorrento' on the sax like Sam Butera," Johnny says, reverentially.

He was just as proud to shill for Don Rickles back when the biting comedian ruled the Sahara lounge and Johnny wore a top hat, tux and tails.

At the Sands, whenever the house violinist saw Johnny coming, he immediately slipped into "Come Back to Sorrento," which was Ventura's cue to sing a little.

Although he once shared a playful slap and cocktails with Frank Sinatra, at the Stardust Johnny spent more time joking with lounge staples the Court Jesters and setting up the stage for the Mary Kaye Trio.

"I always loved show business, anything to do with it," he says as the stardust sprinkles down. "Acting, singing, comedy, whatever."

One of his steadier gigs was as an overgrown altar boy at the Stardust's "gamblers' Mass." At 5 a.m. on Sunday, room was set aside for a full service with a priest, communion and Johnny standing by to sing "Lord I Am Not Worthy." Or, I suspect, "Come Back to Sorrento" upon request.

"The collection plate was something," he recalls. "There was no clanging of coins. It was all chips. Chips from every casino."

As if to punctuate the memory, he gives me a few bars of "Lord I Am Not Worthy."

Johnny will never forget all the players who pressed their luck too far and prayed for relief, and maybe a winning hand, on Sunday mornings.

Johnny even played a gig at Honest John's Casino in a strip mall near the Sahara. In his wedding tux getup, he would sing a little, visit with customers and call out jackpots.

Carnegie Hall it wasn't. But then Carnegie Hall was booked, and Honest John's was hiring, and Johnny Ventura was glad to have the work.

He was pals with Stan Irwin, the entertainment director at the Sahara and the man who helped bring the Beatles to Las Vegas. Johnny didn't open for the Beatles, but he did wear many of Stan's suits.

You see, they were the same size. Irwin would send Johnny to a nearby men's clothing store to get fitted. If Stan liked the suit, Johnny would drop it off. If not, Ventura would add it to his wardrobe.

At 76, Johnny's semi-retired, but occasionally makes appearances as a security guard and a hot dog pitcher at a local big box store.

Although his tux stays in the closet these days, he's still easy to spot in a crowd.

He's the guy who knows the lyrics to "Come Back to Sorrento" and will gladly sing them on request.

John L. Smith's column appears Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. E-mail him at Smith@reviewjournal.com or call (702) 383-0295.