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Frank Sinatra, Rod Stewart, Dionne Warwick, Chaka Khan, The Mills Brothers, Burt Bacharach, Sister Sledge, Bob Hope — this is not a list of stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. This is just a sampling of the headliners Richard Rome helped skyrocket to celebrity status.
The arranger, producer and composer who has made his home on South Broad and Hartranft streets for the last decade has been in the business a long time and rubbed elbows with more than his share of Hollywood’s elite.
"I don’t know whether you can handle all this," Rome joked before launching into a list of well-known musicians from the last century he’s worked with.
But at the heart of his profession is a true love of the music, not the limelight.
"When I started playing the piano, my father tells me, I was 3 years old. I find that hard to believe, but that’s what he told me. It was born inside me I suppose," he said.
For his latest project, the kid from 20th Street and Snyder Avenue has teamed up with Jane Norman for the album "A Perfect Christmas: A Winter of Love," which is getting airplay on radio stations worldwide, according to Rome.
Most of the work Rome does — as was the case with "A Perfect Christmas" — comes his way when people in the know seek out his talents — talents more than 50 years in the making.
"I have a very serious reputation up in New York. I did commercials for Sheraton Hotels, Campbell’s, General Electric," the Clio Award-winning artist said. "The business itself has changed. What has not changed are the people in it like myself.
"That will never change."
The third of five brothers, Rome was born to Mary and Attilio in South Philly. The former was an operatic singer, while the latter played the mandolin in Italy before becoming a tailor in the States. In addition to his skills on the ivories, Rome had another musical inclination.
"I used to play an accordion. I hate to say this: Every Italian kid played an accordion," Rome said with a laugh.
Rome attended Southern, 2101 S. Broad St., and supplemented his general education with intensive music studies at the Curtis Institute.
"I went into the classical end of it. I found that it wasn’t enough," he said. "I felt that being a concert pianist — unless you come from a family that is well-off, that has resources — it is very difficult to become a concert pianist. I saw more of a future in being a jazz pianist and a composer."
Since beginning down the jazz tract, Rome has never looked back. After graduating Southern in the late 1950s — and marrying high school sweetheart Dorothy — Rome hit the road to bring his music to the masses.
"I started to travel as a jazz pianist with a quartet. It might be easier to tell you where I didn’t travel to," Rome said. "I was practically ready to move to New York. I was signed to CBS as a writer and they sent me throughout the country."
Loving his time in the dark, sultry nightlife, Rome was soon swept into a new, sunnier genre that would become a lifelong passion. Paramount Films came calling and Rome jetted off to the Golden State to work as the assistant conductor in a group scoring films for the movie giant.
"Film work gives you a chance to compose. You get footage, maybe 10 minutes of footage, and where is the music going to go here. You look and go back and forth, back and forth. And, as I’m looking, I’m playing on the keyboard here," he said, describing his love of the organic process from which a soundtrack emerges.
His 10-year stint on the West Coast also included travel across Europe, where, at the time, many recording projects were done at lower costs. One such project was a solo piano album Rome recorded with the national symphony orchestra of Rome, Italy.
"I wish I could put South Philly in California," Rome, who split his time between the two locales as Dorothy remained in South Philly, said. "They try to imitate us out there, but it just doesn’t happen. They try to make the steak sandwiches and the sausage, but the bread’s not the same.
"I was born and raised here and I just love the people and they know who I am. I get treated very special down here. It’s nice. The people are warm. They’re giving. They’re always extending themselves and they always have something to feed you with."
After Dorothy died in the mid-’90s, Rome stayed in California until his mother’s declining health brought him back to South Philadelphia for good. Currently doing all of the preliminary work from his Brinton Estates home, Rome has projects in the pipeline — including his latest album work with recording artists Santana and Pl�cido Domingo and scoring a film called "The Nappers" — but is still adjusting to the less-bright lights of South Philly and how to keep his once-booming workload going strong.
"The people that I knew grew older. A lot of them moved over to Jersey," Rome, who remarried and lives with wife Cassie, said. "I thought the type of person I left behind is no longer here. The South Philly camaraderie is still here; It bled down into the siblings and mom-dad-son-daughter. I’m very Italian. I miss the old pasta — even the meatball wasn’t the same [in California]."
The workaholic keeps churning out quality tunes and, though he’s adapted to changing trends, he knows what he has to offer can’t be found in a button on an electronic.
"Now what you get is the younger guy coming up and putting a full-size synthesizer in front of him. It’s raw and it will never be anything great," Rome said. "We do it the old way, babe, the hard way. We do it from mind. Everything that comes on that piece of score paper comes from my mind. Something I’ve been doing all my life.
"You’re buying me, someone who has a lot of musical knowledge. Someone who’s been through the ranks."
And though his life includes two daughters, an honorary doctorate of music from Combs College in Chestnut Hill, awards, celebrity circles and multiple bylines inside some of the last century’s greatest CD jackets, Rome is not ready to put away his score sheets.
"When it comes to music, I pride myself on doing it all. I love doing it. I know these people so well," he said. "When they close the lid is when it’s over. I don’t care if I’m 100 years old, I’ll still do what I’m doing.
"Provided they still want me."
