Bobby Sherman was one of the biggest music stars during the 1960s and 1970s. Back then, it seemed like everyone had a crush on him.
He released several albums, became a well-known actor, performed for thousands of fans, and sold millions of records. But even with all his success, Sherman made the surprising decision to leave show business for good while he was still famous.
It wasn’t because he felt like he wasn’t talented anymore. Instead, he left for a bigger purpose—he wanted to save lives.
Here’s everything you need to know about the legendary Bobby Sherman!
Bobby Sherman was born on July 22, 1943, in Santa Monica, California, and grew up in Van Nuys, near Los Angeles.
**Bobby Sherman – Early Life**
By the time he was 11, Sherman had learned to play the trumpet and later mastered other instruments like the piano, trombone, and guitar. He attended Birmingham High School, where he joined a band and developed a strong interest in singing. Over the years, Sherman reportedly learned to play an impressive 16 instruments.
After graduating high school in 1961, he began studying at Pierce College in Woodland Hills, near Los Angeles. It was during this time that a relationship changed his life forever.
Sherman was studying child psychology at Pierce College when he met his first girlfriend. One night, she invited him to a cast party for *The Greatest Story Ever Told*.
By then, Sherman had already started performing music with different bands around the San Fernando Valley, and many people recognized his talent. At the party, Sherman didn’t hesitate to showcase his voice.
“I was always the guy who had the gumption to get up and sing in front of people,” he later said.
At the Hollywood party, Bobby Sherman had some friends playing in the band on stage, which made it easier for him to get up and sing. He performed Ray Charles’ “What I’d Say” in front of the crowd.
**Discovered at a Hollywood Party**
Since it was a Hollywood party, many famous people from the entertainment industry were there, including stars like Sal Mineo, Natalie Wood, and Jane Fonda.
After his performance, they recognized his talent. Sal Mineo, especially, took notice and decided to mentor him.
“People were saying things like, ‘Who’s handling you?’ I had no idea what that meant,” Sherman recalled.
“Well, I was just a kid from Van Nuys, and I was like, ‘What do they mean, handling me?’ Then I realized they were talking about representation.”
Sherman quickly got a taste of Hollywood life. Just three days later, an agent—who had heard about him from one of the party guests—sent him to an audition. It was for a new television show called *Shindig*, and Bobby landed a featured role.
His time on *Shindig* lasted only two years, but that was enough to get him noticed. By then, people across the country had fallen in love with him, and job offers started pouring in.
When *Shindig* was canceled in 1966, Bobby Sherman guest-starred on several other shows, including *The Monkees*, *Honey West*, and *The FBI*. He was starting to become a heartthrob in Hollywood, but it was in 1968 that he really made it big.
**Bobby Sherman – Music, Songs, Albums, Acting**
Sherman played the stuttering character Jason Bolt in *Here Come The Brides*, staying on the show for two full years. By the end of his time on the show, his character had lost his stutter, but the show was eventually canceled.
Jason Bolt became very popular with fans, and Sherman realized this during a telethon in Buffalo. Suddenly, he wasn’t just a rising star; he had become famous.
“The show had just started, and we didn’t even have any records out yet,” Sherman told *Tulsa World*.
“Greg Morris from *Mission: Impossible* and Robert Brown from *Here Come The Brides* and I were asked to do the telethon. It was going really well when the fire marshal came in and said, ‘We have a problem. You need to come up to the second floor; you have to greet some people.’
“They opened up a window, and I looked out to see the parking lot of the TV station filled with people. It was a sea of faces,” he recalled. “It was just unbelievable. That was when I realized something big was happening.”
The following year was a bit of a “limbo” for Bobby. However, it was during this time that he began focusing on writing songs and experimenting with his eight-track recording equipment.
Bobby Sherman became a professional singer, even though he hadn’t received much recognition for his voice yet.
**Bobby Sherman – Family, Wife, Children**
From 1969 to 1971, Sherman’s young fans bought millions of his recordings. He released popular singles like “Little Woman,” “Easy Come, Easy Go,” and “Julie, Do Ya Love Me.” He sold over a million copies of six different singles and four different albums.
“A song begins with an idea – one line,” he explained in 1971. “I build that into a complete lyric. Then, I fit the music around it.”
Sherman starred in a television series called *Getting Together*, a spinoff of *The Partridge Family*, about two songwriters, from 1970 to 1971. He also appeared in several guest roles after that.
At the same time as his rise to fame, he married his first wife, Patti Carnel, in 1971. Together, they had two sons, Christopher and Tyler.
Sherman wanted his kids to have a great place to grow up, so he decided to build a miniature model of Disneyland’s Main Street in his backyard. The project cost him about $15,000 and took around two and a half years to complete.
Not everyone was happy with Bobby Sherman’s Disneyland project; his wife was reportedly annoyed by the constant noise of hammers.
**”I Didn’t Know What Home Was”**
“At one point, she said, ‘If you don’t finish it, I’ll kill you,’” Sherman joked in an interview with *People*.
Bobby’s children not only inspired him to build his own piece of Disneyland but also became the motivation for his new career. He became a major teen heartthrob before stars like Shaun Cassidy and David Cassidy. Eventually, he was “replaced” by performers like Donny Osmond.
At the height of his career, Sherman starred in hit television series while also releasing popular singles, gaining adoration from millions of fans. His albums *Sixteen* and *Tiger Beat* became two of his most cherished works.
Even though he was living out his dream, Sherman explained that he often filmed five days a week and had evening shows on weekends. This busy schedule took a toll on him. “It was so hectic for three years that I didn’t know what home was,” he told the *Washington Post*.
“I was disoriented; I never knew where I was. I always had to be reminded. But, in all honesty, I must say I had the best of times because the concerts were great, and the fans were great. It was the proverbial love-in, but it just zapped so much out of me.”
**Bobby Sherman Left Music to Save Lives**
Then, in the middle of his celebrity status, Bobby suddenly decided to switch careers to a very important one. He chose to leave his music and television career to save lives.
Sherman was very involved in raising his children, and his then-wife Patti was afraid of blood. As anyone who has raised kids knows, accidents happen often, and Christopher and Tyler would sometimes fall and get hurt.
These falls sometimes caused bloody knees and other minor scrapes. Wanting to handle these situations better, Sherman decided to take some classes. He first took an introductory first aid and CPR class and later volunteered as an emergency medical technician.
“The very first call, I saved a little 5-year-old girl’s life. I thought, ‘Yeah, that’s the most incredible feeling,’” Bobby recalled in a 1994 interview.
During my grandfather’s funeral, a stranger gave me a note — I couldn’t help but laugh after reading it because Grandpa had played a trick on us
At Grandpa’s funeral, 18-year-old Dahlia feels isolated as her family fumes over the pitiful $1 inheritance. But when a stranger slips her a secret note, Dahlia is pulled into a mystery only she can solve.
I stood by the graveside, hands clenched in the pockets of my too-small black dress, listening to the priest’s droning voice blend with the rustle of the wind.
This was the saddest day of my life, but everyone else in the family seemed more concerned with glaring at each other than mourning Grandpa.
I could feel their bitterness lingering in the chilly October air, thick like syrup. One dollar each. That’s all Grandpa left us in his will, and they were furious. But me? I wasn’t angry. Just… hollow.
Grandpa wasn’t supposed to be gone. He was the only person who ever saw me, not the mess-up or the spare kid nobody paid attention to, but me. He let me in when no one else cared.
I stared down at the flowers resting on his coffin. I’d brought him a red rose, and it stood out among the white daisies everyone else had placed on the casket.
“One dollar,” Aunt Nancy hissed from behind me. “One damn dollar! That man was loaded, and this is what we get?”
Uncle Vic let out a bitter laugh. “Right? I swear he did it on purpose, the spiteful old man.”
“Typical Dad,” Mom muttered, crossing her arms tight across her chest. “He always played favorites, and Dahlia here was his little pet. Bet she got something we don’t know about.”
Aunt Nancy’s eyes cut toward me, sharp as glass. “What did he leave you, Dahlia? Anything? Don’t act like you didn’t get something.”
I stiffened. “I got the same as all of you.”
Mom’s fingers tightened over my shoulder. “Are you sure?” she asked in a low voice. “You were always with him. Maybe he told you something… think hard, Dahlia. You owe it to your family to share whatever he gave you.”
Memories came rushing back of Grandpa’s goofy stories about long-lost treasure and the butterscotch candies he always kept in his coat pocket.
Sometimes, he’d wink at me and say, “One day, kiddo, I’m leaving you a treasure. Real treasure!” But it was just a game, a joke between us.
I shook my head and turned my gaze back to the coffin. “What Grandpa gave me was his love, his stories, and a place that felt more like home than my actual home. Those things were worth more than money, and there’s no way I can—”
“Nobody cares about any of that!” Mom snapped. “Think, girl! What happened to all of his money?”
I shrugged. I truly didn’t know the answer to her question and didn’t care. Grandpa was gone. He was my confidant, my safe place, my friend. I’d lost the most important person in the world, but all they cared about was slapping a price tag on his death.
“She knows something,” Vic muttered, loud enough for me to hear.
Their voices twisted together, accusing, scheming — like they could squeeze secrets out of me if they tried hard enough. But I had no secrets that could earn them more money.
The second they realized there’d be no fortune, they turned away from the grave and stormed off. I could still hear them bickering as they walked away, lashing out at each other like vultures. It made me sick.
“You must be Dahlia.”
I looked up to see a woman, maybe in her 60s, with kind eyes and a worn leather bag slung over her shoulder. Her smile was soft and secretive, like she knew something the rest of us didn’t.
“I was a friend of your grandpa’s,” she said, leaning in as if we were co-conspirators. “He asked me to give you this.”
Before I could respond, she slipped a folded piece of paper into my hand and whispered, “Don’t let anyone see it, especially your family.”
Her presence felt surreal, almost dreamlike, and before I could say anything, she was gone, swallowed by the crowd of mourners. My heart pounded in my chest as I unfolded the note.
111 locker — Southern Railway Station.
For a second, I stood frozen, the words blurring in front of me. Then it hit me: Grandpa’s “treasure.” A laugh bubbled up from my throat, inappropriate and wild, but I couldn’t help it. He wasn’t joking after all.
That night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. The note was tucked under my pillow like a secret. Grandpa’s voice echoed in my mind, playful yet certain: “Locker number 111… There’s treasure in there, kiddo!”
A weight settled on my chest, something between grief and hope. What if this wasn’t just some wild goose chase? What if Grandpa had really left something for me, hidden away where no one else could reach?
The thought twisted around in my mind until I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to know what was in that locker.
I called a cab the next morning. It was the first thing I did after I woke up. As I tiptoed past the kitchen, I could hear Mom muttering on the phone about Grandpa’s will, probably trying to squeeze sympathy or cash out of anyone who would listen.
I clenched my jaw and slipped out the door, the chilly morning air hitting my skin like a slap.
The ride to Southern Railway Station felt like the longest 20 minutes of my life.
My knee bounced with nervous energy as the cab wound through narrow streets, past graffiti-covered walls, and empty coffee shops just starting to open. The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror but didn’t say a word.
When we finally pulled up at the station, I stepped out and asked him to wait for me. I clutched the note tightly as I entered the train station.
The station smelled like diesel and stale popcorn. People rushed past me in every direction — commuters, travelers, strangers with places to go.
I hesitated at the entrance, suddenly feeling small and out of place. But then Grandpa’s voice floated back into my mind, steady and reassuring: “Real treasure, kiddo.”
I took a deep breath and headed toward the lockers and I could hear my heart pounding. Rows of metal boxes lined the wall, each one looking identical: gray, dented, and slightly rusty.
My eyes scanned the numbers until I found number 111.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the folded note. The key was taped to the back. With trembling fingers, I peeled it off and slid it into the lock.
For a second, it jammed, and I panicked. But then — click! The lock turned, and the door swung open.
Inside was a duffel bag. It was old, faded, and heavy. My hands shook as I pulled it out and unzipped it.
The bag was full of cash. Bundles upon bundles of it!
I gasped, my mind reeling. It couldn’t be real, could it? I reached in and pulled out a stack, flipping through crisp hundred-dollar bills. There had to be at least $150,000 in there.
And tucked inside the bag was another note, written in Grandpa’s messy scrawl:
For my beloved granddaughter, everything I saved is now yours. Take it and live free, kiddo. The rest of the family may not see your worth, but I’ve always believed in you.
Tears blurred my vision, and I hugged the note to my chest, a knot forming in my throat. This wasn’t just money. It was freedom — a way out.
Grandpa always knew how badly I needed to escape this family. And now, he’d given me exactly what I needed and tricked everyone else in the process!
I zipped the bag shut, slung it over my shoulder, and walked out of the station, my heart pounding in tune with my footsteps.
The early morning sun was just starting to peek through the clouds, casting everything in a soft, golden light. For the first time in years, I felt… light.
During the cab ride back, I stared out the window, watching the city come to life. I had options now. No more suffocating family dinners, no more being ignored or treated like an afterthought, no more being the family scapegoat.
I could leave. I could build something new.
The thought scared me as much as it excited me, but Grandpa’s voice echoed in the back of my mind: “Live free, kiddo.”
As the cab pulled up to my house, I made my decision. I wasn’t staying. Not another minute!
I didn’t even bother going inside. I pulled out my phone, booked a ticket to anywhere, and told the driver to head straight to the airport.
With the duffel bag in my lap and Grandpa’s note tucked safely in my pocket, I smiled for the first time in days.
I was free. And for the first time in my life, I knew exactly what that meant.
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