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.
My FIL Moved Into Our House After My MIL Ended Up in the Hospital & He Tried to Make Me His Maid — He Didn’t Expect My Response
When my father-in-law moved into our home, I thought we were doing him a favor. But soon, his presence turned into something I never could’ve anticipated — something that tested my patience, my marriage, and my limits.
When my mother-in-law ended up in the hospital unexpectedly, my father-in-law, Frank seemed utterly lost. He’d always depended on her for everything — cooking, cleaning, even remembering to take his medication. Without her, he was like a rudderless ship.
Senior couple having tea in their backyard | Source: Midjourney
“I don’t know what to do with myself,” he admitted when my husband, Brian, and I visited him a few days after the incident. His cheerful voice was low, and his shoulders drooped.
Brian squeezed my hand, giving me the look — the one that said he was about to make an impulsive decision I’d have to clean up later. Sure enough, he turned to his dad and said, “Why don’t you come stay with us for a bit? It’ll be better than being alone.”
Son talking to his depressed dad | Source: Midjourney
Frank’s eyes lit up, and before I could process what just happened, he was moving into our guest room with an alarming amount of suitcases for someone who claimed it was “temporary.”
At first, it was fine. He seemed grateful, even a bit shy about imposing. But then little things started to change.
“Hey, dear,” he called out one afternoon while I was on a Zoom call for work. “Can you grab me some coffee? I can’t find the pods.”
“They’re right on the counter,” I replied.
“Yeah, but you know how to work the machine better,” he said, chuckling as though I’d find this endearing.
Senior man seated next to a coffee making machine | Source: Midjourney
Then it was, “Can you fix me a sandwich?” and “Don’t forget my toast in the mornings, I like it just golden.” One day, he even handed me a basket of his clothes, saying, “I’ll need these for golf tomorrow. Thanks, daughter.”
Each time, Brian was “too busy” to notice. But my patience? That was wearing dangerously thin. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could play along.
The breaking point came on a Thursday evening — a night I’ll never forget. My father-in-law decided to host poker night at our house, apparently without feeling the need to ask me first.
“Just a couple of guys, nothing big,” he’d said that morning, flashing a grin as he searched through the fridge. “We’ll keep it clean. You’ll barely notice we’re here.”
Senior man standing next to the fridge talking to his daughter-in-law | Source: Midjourney
Barely notice? By 8 p.m. the living room was transformed into a smoky den of laughter, chips clinking, and loud chatter. And me? I was in the kitchen, balancing trays of snacks and refilling drinks like an unpaid server.
“Hey, we’re out of beer!” one of his friends yelled. “Sweetheart,” Frank called to me, not even bothering to stand, “Can you grab some from the garage?” I clenched my jaw, my blood boiling, but I grabbed the beer.
When another one of his friends tapped his glass and said, “A little more ice,” I nearly lost it.
Senior men hanging out | Source: Midjourney
After the game, as Frank walked his buddies to the door, I overheard him chuckling and saying to Brian, “See? That’s how you should treat a woman.”
The words hit me like a slap. I felt my stomach twist as the realization sunk in. This wasn’t just about poker night — it was about a pattern. I’d seen it for years in the way Frank treated my MIL like she was there solely to cater to him. Now he was training my husband to do the same.
Father and son having a conversation | Source: Midjourney
It started small, almost unnoticeable. “Hey, can you grab me a drink while you’re up?” Brian would ask, even when I wasn’t already standing. At first, I didn’t think much of it — he’d always been good about splitting chores and being considerate. But then, those small favors turned into expectations.
One evening, as I was folding laundry, Brian walked past with a plate from his dinner. Instead of putting it in the sink like he always did, he left it on the coffee table. “Can you take care of that?” he asked, not even breaking stride.
Another time, I was in the middle of preparing dinner when he strolled into the kitchen. “Don’t forget I need my blue shirt ironed for tomorrow,” he said, planting a kiss on my cheek like it would soften the demand.
Couple in the kitchen preparing dinner | Source: Midjourney
That was it. “No, Brian,” I said, my voice firm. “I’ve taken it seriously enough. You both need to understand—this stops now. I am not your maid, and I am not his either.”
The tension in the room was thick, and I could see Brian’s stunned face as I walked out, determined that things were about to change—for good.
The very next morning, after a sleepless night of seething and strategizing, I sat down at the dining table with my laptop and began typing out a “rental agreement.” I wasn’t going to charge Frank rent, but I wanted clear, no-nonsense rules. If he was going to stay under our roof, things were going to change.
Woman using her laptop | Source: Pexels
The rules were simple but non-negotiable:
- I cook one meal for everyone each day. If someone wants something else, they can cook it themselves.
- If you’re physically capable of doing something, you do it yourself—this includes fetching drinks, laundry, and cleaning up after meals.
- Everyone cleans up after themselves. Dishes go in the dishwasher, not the sink. The laundry will be folded and put away by the person who wore it.
- If you invite guests over, you’re responsible for hosting them, including food, drinks, and cleanup.
- No sexist comments or behavior — this house operates on mutual respect, period.
- Contributions to household chores are expected, not optional. You live here; you pitch in.
Identical cubes with RULES inscription | Source: Pexels
I printed it out, stapled the pages together, and waited until Frank came into the kitchen. He looked startled to see me sitting there, sipping my coffee with a hard copy of the rules in front of me.
“Morning,” he said cautiously, sensing the shift in my demeanor.
“Morning,” I replied, pushing the document toward him. “We need to talk.”
“What’s this?” he asked, frowning as he scanned the first page.
“It’s a rental agreement for staying in this house,” I said evenly. “These are the rules moving forward.”
Frank blinked at me, his face turning red. “Rules? What is this, the army? I’m your guest!”
Annoyed senior man | Source: Midjourney
“No,” I said sharply. “You’re not a guest anymore. You’ve been here for weeks. You’re family, which means you’re not entitled to sit back while everyone else waits on you. This is how it’s going to work if you’re staying here.”
Brian walked in midway through the exchange, yawning and rubbing his eyes. “What’s going on?” he asked, glancing between us.
“Your wife is trying to turn this house into a dictatorship,” Frank said, slapping the paper onto the table.
Brian picked up the agreement and skimmed it. “Uh, isn’t this a bit… much?” he said, hesitating.
Young man in deep thoughts reading a document | Source: Pexels
“No, Brian,” I said, meeting his eyes. “What’s much is your father treating me like I’m his maid? And lately, you’ve started doing the same. That stops today.”
The room fell silent. Frank looked like he was ready to explode, and Brian seemed torn. But I held my ground, unflinching.
“You can either follow the rules,” I said, standing up, “or find somewhere else to stay.”
Frank opened his mouth to argue but closed it again, realizing I wasn’t bluffing. For the first time in weeks, I felt in control — and I wasn’t about to let that go.
Young woman and a senior man having a conversation | Source: Midjourney
When my mother-in-law, Sarah, finally came home from the hospital, I was both nervous and relieved. Nervous because I had no idea how she’d react to what I’d done, and relieved because, frankly, Frank had been a handful.
As she settled on the couch, sipping the tea I’d made her, I slid the “rental agreement” across the table. “Sarah,” I began, choosing my words carefully, “I need you to see this. It’s something I worked on while Frank was staying here.”
Her brows furrowed as she read, her lips tightening at first. By the time she got to Rule 5, she glanced up at me with a knowing smile. “Oh, I like this one,” she said. “Mutual respect. Novel concept for him.”
Senior woman smiling while reading a document | Source: Midjourney
I exhaled, grateful she didn’t seem offended. “I know you care deeply about him,” I said, sitting beside her. “But Sarah, he’s been relying on you for far too long. It’s not fair to you. And while he was here… well, let’s just say I realized how much you’ve been carrying all these years.”
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Her eyes softened, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of exhaustion. “You’re right,” she said quietly. “It’s been like this since the day we got married. I just… I thought it was my job.”
“No,” I said firmly, taking her hand. “It’s time for him to step up. Not just for your sake, but for his.
Sarah chuckled, shaking her head. “I wish I’d done this years ago.”
Senior woman and her daughter in law reading a document | Source: Midjourney
When Frank came into the room, Sarah waved the paper in the air. “You’ve got work to do, mister,” she said, her voice playful but firm.
He groaned, muttering something about a conspiracy, but Sarah stood her ground.
As they walked into the kitchen together, I couldn’t help but smile. For the first time, it felt like Sarah wasn’t carrying the entire load alone.
“Hey,” Brian said, coming up behind me. “You really think he’ll stick to it?”
I turned, watching Sarah guide Frank to the sink where she handed him a dish towel. For the first time, he didn’t argue — he just started drying.
I smiled, my voice steady. “He doesn’t have a choice. Because this time, we’re all playing by the rules.”
Family setting dinner on the table | Source: Midjourney
Love this story? You won’t want to miss the next one: My FIL threatened me after I caught him with his mistress in a café—But karma stepped in at just the right moment. You won’t believe how it all unfolds! Click here to dive in.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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