At the outset, let me apologize for liking this song. It was outre almost immediately after its release. At this point it is so retrograde that I think a person might be able to enjoy it once again for it’s ironic naïveté. But, I have always loved the way her voice swoops up on the name “Bobby”. It still brings chills. I was nine years old, and I wanted to be Bobby for my crush. It’s so interesting with the sober goggles of reflection to realize how programmed I was by popular culture to accept certain societal dogmas in terms of the relations between the sexes.  

Marcie Blane was only 16 when she recorded it, and it was her only chart hit. Born Marcia Blank in Brooklyn, NY in 1944, Marci was discovered by Marv Holzman, an A&R man for Seville records, off of a demo she had recorded as a favor for a songwriter friend. The company changed her name and gave her this song to record, which she did, and, then, she went off to be a counsellor at summer camp. When she returned, she was a star. 

But, the supernova of fame burned out quickly, and by ’65 it was all over - by her choice. She decided to go back to college and didn’t promote her records. The music business was too stressful for this simple girl, who just wanted to marry, teach, and raise a family - which is what she did.

An interesting side-note: On October 9, 2017, it was erroneously reported that a homeless Marcie Blane had died with out enough funds for a burial.  It turned out that it wasn’t her: it was a woman named Mildred Maxwell, who had told everyone for 30 years that she was Marcie Blane. I guess a lot of ladies just wanted to be “Bobby’s Girl”.