Gene Ferrari sweeps onto the stage in a wave of energy that almost crackles.  He flashes his contagious grin to his eager audience, seizes his microphone and fills the big casino showroom with a rolling tenor that sirs the romantic imagination.

Dark-haired and handsome, the mature good lucks, Continental charm and supple voice of his proud Italian-American have made him a favorite, both as headliner and opening act, in Las Vegas, Atlantic City and a multitude of venues large and small from coast-to-coast and beyond.

Gene’s classically elegant style, both in performance and in attire, begs comparison to such great romantic singers as Tom Jones and Engelbert Humperdinck.  But, even though Humperdinck was a mentor and early influence, Gene’s way of delighting audiences with the music they love, and some they are enjoying for the first time, is distinctively his own.

No wonder, then, that Gene has been the frequent opening act choice over the years of such stars as Don Rickles, Jackie Mason, Dom Deluise, Rich Little, David Bremer, Pat Cooper, Bob Hope and Joan Rivers and Jay Leno.  Or that Gene’s four CD’s, the latest of which is “The Nearness of You” sell so briskly on the Internet and at his personal appearances.

He’s come a long way from Catania, Sicily, the tiny town of his birth.  By the time he came to America in 1972, with $100 in his pocket, not speaking a word of English, he had clocked thousands of miles throughout the Middle East and Europe, singing for his supper.

Gene grew up in Egypt, where his father owned a Fiat dealership.  But when Egyptian President Gamal Abdel Nasser “nationalized” (translation:  confiscated) the nation’s businesses, the Ferrari family returned to Sicily.  Back home, despite their Italian citizenship, they were placed in a refugee camp.

“I knew then that I would always be a second class citizen in Italy because of the refugee status,” he recalls.  “I needed a bigger work in which to be myself.”

So he recruited four musicians, created his own club and lounge act, and took off to seek his fortune.  Over the next decade, the road led to Europe, where he and his group became regulars at military clubs on NATO bases, and around Asia Minor and the Middle East, from Istanbul to Beirut.

At the Top of the Hilton in Rome, two American promoters and their wives caught the Gene Ferrari Show and offered to bring Gene to the United States – for  60% of his earnings.  Gene accepted and made his debut in Rochester, New York.

A year later, Gene and company were playing the lounge of the Executive Inn in Buffalo, New York at a time during the summer when Engelbert Humperdinck was appearing at a local outdoor music fair.  Humperdinck and his manager, Andy Anka (Paul’s dad) were staying at the hotel.

“They came to the show once, then they came back every night,” Gene remembers fondly.  “Then Engelbert did something very generous:  he sent for me, sat me down, and explained to me everything I was doing.  He taught me how to be polished, which I learned quickly was not easy to accomplish.  The idea is to make it look easy.”

“He said, ‘Our paths will cross again, and when they do, you are welcome backstage.’  Well that was the real education.  To be back there and see the ins and outs of the show.  I think of it as my graduate school in entertainment.”

By 1979, Gene, by then a solo act, had worked his way to Las Vegas, as the headliner in the Aladdin Hotel lounge.  Soon thereafter, he was opening for Don Rickles and had the amazing experience of seeing his name under Rickles’ on the classic glittering neon marquee of the Stardust Hotel.

Gene remembers:  “I felt like (James) Cagney in that movie, what was it?  (‘White Heat’).  I wanted to shout out, ‘Top of the World, Ma!’”

“I thank Rickles for that,” Gene says.  “He didn’t have to allow my name up there.  The main act always has the right of approval of such things.”

In the 80’s, Gene’s stature grew as a well-known and well-loved opening act.

“It’s an art unto itself,” he says.  “The people are there to see the star, and you never, ever try to upstage him or her.  You get 22 minutes, though Rickles, Jack Mason, and Joan Rivers all generously gave me 35.  You come out and you have no more than three minutes to grab them.  Three minutes, max.”

“I like to surprise people.  I open with a ballad, not the usual up-tempo number.  I’ll joke around in a self-effacing way:  ‘They needed somebody to kill some time before the big spenders get here.’  Then I proceed to show them how well I can sing.”

Gene says his show is a “musical conversation between me and the audience.  I don’t insult their taste by giving them clichés.  You’ll never hear me sing ‘Feelings.’  Ten songs don’t make it a show.  You have to establish rapport, a mutual liking of each other, and sustain it.”

His repertoire is vast – when he is the headliner, he does two hours easily – and highly eclectic.  He has a two and a half octave range and, thanks to his world travels, is fluent in several languages.  On any given night, he might range from Bon Jovi to Nat ‘King’ Cole.  Or he might segue from and Italian standard like “Il Mondo” to a less familiar song from a Broadway show.

He has no gimmicks (‘no acrobats’).  Nor does he do the sort of material that was once called “blue” but is now, Gene believes, sadly becoming the norm.

Musical mastery, coupled with European charisma and old-fashioned dignity have earned Gene a loyal following and a reputation for excellence that endures into his third decade as an American singer. 

And being a loyal American is something Gene counts among his most cherished achievements.

“I earned my citizenship the old-fashioned way” he says.  “When I was applying for my papers, the guy there asked me if I wanted him to put down dual-citizenship, United States and Italy.  “I said, ‘No thanks.  Just American will do.’  It’s still that way.  First and foremost, I am an American.”