The 4AM Rat Pack performance presented here was privately pressed on vinyl as a special gift to very special 500 Club patrons. We present this untouched audio from the original acetate as it represents the taste and feel of this historic occasion.

What tomfoolery! It’s 4 o’clock in the morning, and these bad boys are just getting started. This recording is a rare glimpse into the real, live, Rat Pack experience - and, the slightly distorted, overloaded sound is just part of the cinema verite. “YOU ARE THERE,” as Walter Cronkite once intoned. 

The year is 1962. Dean Martin has circled back to the 500 club in Atlantic City, where his career with Jerry Lewis first exploded, and his rat pack brothers in arms are there to support. For anybody devoted to, or interested in this celebrated entourage of 20th century entertainers, you can’t get any closer to the actual experience of being there. 

The banter is not particularly clever (they’re enjoying themselves, I won’t say MORE than the audience, but equally, at least). There are lapses in taste and attention to keeping the show moving - (an extended drunken improv about stools is one example) - and, though the finest singers of that generation are not always on perfect pitch here, it matters not a jot! The real personalities of these icons is vividly on display. The pecking order and inter-relationships are fascinating. And, as far as sheer entertainment value goes: The band swings hard, the legendary Sammy Davis Jr. sings, dances, and does impressions; Sinatra and Dino croon medleys to die for, and the whole 40 minutes is boffo. Not to be missed!

By Don Altobell

I will never forget August 26, 1962.

I was 24 at the time and after having the good fortune of seeing Dean Martin's appearance at the 500 Club in Atlantic City on Aug 19 -- his first solo gig since his split with Jerry Lewis -- the following week gave me an added treat.

Thanks to a drawing I did of Dean, I was able to see his opening shows and also attend rehearsals. And 500 Club owner Skinny Damato introduced me to Dean, who autographed my drawing, which still hangs on my living room wall.

Fans knew that Dean's pal, Frank Sinatra, would join him midweek to conclude the engagement. Atlantic City was bursting at the seams, with all hotels, motels, and restaurants jam-packed. At the club itself, tables were pushed together to make room for more patrons. It was a bonanza time for Atlantic City long before the first casino was opened.

That closing night after early dinner, I made my way through the block-long line and was ushered inside by a policeman who remembered me after seeing me at so many shows. I didn't mind that I had no seat...