Private First-Class Frank Vallone
A true story about a young man from Litle Italy, New York City, who died September 11th...1968 in Vietnam.
Original instrumental music. Classical Orchestral to Rock, to Bossa Nova & Movie Music.
Ellis & Streit=Pont Mirabeau,+ various other artists who wander into one of our recording sessions.
The genre question is a nightmare.
We play EVERY GENRE!
Classical orchestral to Acoustic/Folk.
Rock to Bossa Nova.
Story behind the song
Within easy walking distance from the site of the World Trade Center is Little Italy, New York City. Long before the World Trade Center attack, September 11th was a sad day for many residents of Little Italy. That was the day young Private First-Class Frank Vallone, USMC, was killed in Vietnam, September 11th, 1968.
There's a bronze plaque on the gate of a church on Mulberry Street that Frank's neighbors and friends dedicated to him. The name of the church is "The Church of His Most Precious Blood".
I lived in that neighborhood. I saw the plaque and I noticed the date Frank died, exactly thirty-three years before the world changed for every American.
So I wrote a song for Frank, his family, and for his friends and neighbors who dedicated that plaque. I also wrote it to the friends and neighbors who perished a few blocks away, at the World Trade Center exactly thirty-three years from the day Frank died in Vietnam.
I hope I did all right.
Lyrics
Private First Class Frank Vallone (NYC Song #7)
copyright 2003 Ellis & Streit Laxmi Music ASCAP
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In New York City, on Mulberry Street,
There’s a church where a man can pray alone,
And on the gate of the church,
Is a bronze plaque that reads
“To Private First Class Frank Vallone..."
Just nineteen years old; in the U.S. Marines,
A young Italian-American man;
He left his buddies back home in Little Italy,
To hold a rifle in South Vietnam;
He was only in country sixty-four days;
In sixty-four days, he was gone;
He flew back to New York
With an American flag;
Private First-Class Frank Vallone.
September 11th, 1968,
His family was sleeping back home;
It was high-noon and hot
outside his base at Quang Nam
Where Frank was ambushed with his squad,
on patrol;
Frank stepped up, to the front of the fight;
His buddies back home would be proud,
Two U.S. Marines lost their lives on that day;
But they never gave up their ground;
But Charlie shot first and Frank was cut down;
before he could buy beer or could vote;
The morning report said,
“Hostile Small Arms Fire:”
And that’s all that his First Sergeant wrote;
A son and his mother, a Mom and her boy;
A love that can never be changed;
When the letter arrived to break them the news;
Frank’s Mom was never the same;
He was only in country sixty-four days;
In sixty-four days, he was gone;
He flew back to New York
With an American flag;
Private First-Class Frank Vallone.
It was thirty-three years to the day Frank died,
That they brought the World Trade Center down;
I wonder, where were you Frank, as we were watching it fall?
Could you see it collapsing to the ground?
Would you still want to step to the front of the fight?
Frank, would you make them pay Hell?
Or have you found peace now, no man can describe?
Can you tell us that peace will one day prevail?
Some college professors said that you died in vain;
The draft-dodgers were right, you were wrong;
But those professors aren’t fit to clean the mud off the boots
Of Private First-Class Frank Vallone
In New York City, down on Mulberry Street,
There’s a church where you can go to pray alone
And on the gate of that church,
Is a bronze plaque that reads
"Dedicated to the memory of Frank Vallone, PFC USMC, who gave his life for God and Country in Vietnam, September 11, 1968, dedicated by his neighbors and friends.”
b. April 4, 1949, New York City,
died, September 11, 1968, Vietnam.”
