Unlike many people, Bobby Wade never struggled to find the right occupation. He knew at an early age — 5 to be exact — what he would be doing with his career. Then he went out and did it for the next five-plus decades. 

Growing up in the Bronx in New York, Wade said his parents worked different shifts. For a short time each day, he had the house to himself, and music filled the space. 

“The radio was always on. I listened to Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Nat King Cole. I knew then what I wanted to do,” he said. 

Two years later, a trip to the famed Apollo Theater sealed it. Watching a popular entertainer of the day take the stage, Wade told himself, “I can do that. That was my inspiration to become a performer.” 

He went on to enjoy rhythm and blues and doo-wop stardom as part of Little Anthony and the Imperials. Later came Bobby Wade’s Imperials and Bobby Wade’s Emperors, along with a variety of entertainment roles in Las Vegas and beyond. 

When he stepped onto the stage in January for a special performance at a community mic night in Province — his home in Maricopa since 2021 — it marked his first time in the spotlight in nearly a quarter of a century. 

That night was just one of many stories Wade enthusiastically shared recently. Through the ups and downs of his many years in show business, he added, “God has always taken care of us.” 

Family affair 

“Us” for Wade begins with his wife, Ruth. The couple will celebrate their 65th wedding anniversary this year, though their story stretches back even further. 

“Her parents moved to Meadville, across the street from Pomona Park, which is where we all would hang out. My cousin said, ‘You’ve got to meet this new family that moved in.’ She was 12 and I was 14. We’ve been together since that moment.” 

Family has always been woven into Wade’s story. As a teenager, he and his friends got some early coaching from his Aunt Mabel. When the group needed a name, they took her suggestion: The Orientals. Only later did anyone pause to consider the irony of that moniker for an all-Black ensemble. 

Years later, Wade’s grandmother made the trip to Las Vegas to see him perform at the Tropicana Hotel. It was the same grandmother who, long before the bright lights and showrooms, had told him he would one day have his own church. 

The lively show closed with This Little Light of Mine. That night, famed blind piano player George Shearing proclaimed, “This young man, this group, has made me see the light.” 

Afterward, Wade spoke with his grandmother about Shearing’s comment. She didn’t miss a beat. 

“I told you that you would have a church. I just didn’t know it would be in a casino.” 

Adopted hometown 

In 1964, Wade headed to Cleveland and took a job as a baggage handler for Greyhound. It was steady work. But the music would not stay in the background for long. 

He had already recorded a song titled You Don’t Understand Me. While performing live on the Big Five Show, a local version of American

Syd Friedman, a promoter and booking agent, saw the show that night. He looked Wade up in the Yellow Pages and reached out. When they finally met, Friedman said, “I’ve been looking for you. I saw you on TV. You’re a funny guy.” 

That led to a two-week stint as a master of ceremonies, comedian and singer at the French Quarters, a Cleveland burlesque club. Down the street sat the Theatrical Grill, a reported hangout for local gangsters. The leader of a jazz trio performing there offered Wade a second job, replacing a departing singer. 

For months, Wade worked both rooms. During breaks at the French Quarters, he would head down the street and perform at the Grill. The original two-week booking turned into three years. 

Progress accelerated when Wade walked into Way Out Records in Cleveland with a copy of You Don’t Understand Me. Owner Lester Johnson asked if he had more material. 

“There were a few songs I had been writing,” Wade recalled. “They put me with two singer-songwriters to work the songs up and two weeks later we were in the studio recording them.” 

Flame in My Heart was recorded on the Big Jim label, a salute to legendary Cleveland Browns running back Jim Brown and subsidiary of Way Out Records. Four Walls and One Window was also produced, with Can’t You Hear Me Calling You serving as the B side for both releases. 

The records did not generate major sales, but another opportunity arrived on Christmas Eve 1970 when the leader of a group called New Direction saw Wade perform. 

“He came to see me after the show and said, ‘We’re going to Vegas and open at the Flamingo in February. Would you like to join the group?’” 

Another two-week job stretched into nearly a year on the road, with stops in Montreal, Puerto Rico and Florida. During a return to the Flamingo, Wade was spotted by Clarence Collins, one of the founders of Little Anthony and the Imperials in the 1950s. 

Career climb 

Little Anthony and the Imperials, behind its lead singer Jerome “Little Anthony” Gourdine, shot to instant fame in 1958 with their first single, Tears on My Pillow. A string of hits followed in the mid-‘60s, along with two appearances on The Ed Sullivan Show, the premier talent showcase of the era. 

Wade’s first performances with the group were set for Lake Tahoe in December 1971. 

Three years later, Little Anthony left the group to pursue a solo career again. When Wade was asked whether he wanted to keep the group together, his answer was clear. He wanted to run the business. 

His brother Billy became the leader of the group’s band. They rehearsed for months before Wade secured two weeks of open dates at the Sahara in Las Vegas. There was that familiar timeframe again. 

“After the first night,” Wade exclaimed, “they came and asked, ‘How many more weeks do you want?’” 

Collins, Wade and Harold Jenkins toured as the Imperials and later as Bobby Wade’s Imperials. In the early 1990s, several original members of Little Anthony and the Imperials reunited. Wade gave up the name, and his group became Bobby Wade’s Emperors. The new name was partly a nod to the lounge at Caesars Palace in Las Vegas, where they served as the house band for nearly a decade. 

Wade’s career included a No. 1 hit — in England. 

Who’s Gonna Love Me was recorded in 1978 for Power Exchange Records in London. 

“We went to Los Angeles, to Marvin Gaye’s studio, and spent three weeks recording the album. Later, we were on stage in Hawaii, and a hula dancer handed me a telegram that said, ‘Congratulations, your song has hit the charts in the U.K. at No. 20.’” Wade said more telegrams followed, announcing No. 5 and ultimately No. 1. 

“They wanted us to come to London. We had a week left in Hawaii, but they told us to go,” he continued. “We flew from Honolulu to Las Vegas, then to San Francisco and London. We stayed there a couple of months, doing shows all over the country.” 

Along the way, Wade and his group also opened for reggae legend Bob Marley on his first U.S. tour. 

Back home 

When Wade left Las Vegas, he decided he was done. 

“I wasn’t going to leave Caesar’s Palace and go to Joe’s Bar,” he said. 

In 2005, Bobby and Ruth moved to the Seattle area to be closer to their grandchildren. Today, they have seven grandchildren and seven great-grandchildren. 

So, what brought him back to the stage in Province after such a long absence? 

After the first open mic night in 2024, his daughter DiAnna floated an idea: “We should have sung Unforgettable.” 

“She didn’t really think we would have another show,” Wade explained. “She was too shy to be on stage, so she had a microphone at the table where she was sitting. People were wondering where her voice was coming from. When I got mixed up with the words, DiAnna came up on stage. She was my hero that night.” 

It wasn’t the first time someone had stepped in mid-song. Years earlier, while performing with noted actress and singer Connie Francis, an onstage mishap knocked over her music. Wade stayed with her, helping carry the performance to the finish. 

Family, he said, has always been behind him. 

“DiAnna said that her dad always ‘took a leap of faith’ in his career decisions. And Miss Ruth always had my back. She never said you can’t do this or you can’t do that.” 

Bobby Wade did it all. 

And, in the words of one of his early influences, Frank Sinatra, he did it his way.