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'70s teen idol Shaun Cassidy skyrocketed to superstardom at 19 --
then walked away to produce hit TV. Now he's back onstage, sharing
songs, secrets and stories of family and fame.

By Alicia Dennis in People

lashes from cell phone cameras light up the dusk outside the historic Newton Theatre in the New Jersey hamlet on a recent Friday night. People are taking selfies and group shots, instructing giggling, squealing pals to "get in a little closer." Many have been fans since the '70s and wear tees featuring a beaming teenage boy in a halo of light surrounded by purple stars, his long hair curling over his collar, with the words "Shaun Cassidy" written in retro letters. Other shirts proclaim "It's a Shaun Thing, You Wouldn't Understand." A steel barricade separates the growing crowd from a side entrance. "Is he back there?" a woman asks a security guard. She responds to his affirmative nod with delighted screams and turns to a friend and says, "I just can't wait to see him again."

As it turns out, the feeling is mutual. After more than four decades away from the fans who helped catapult him to singing sensation and TV superstar in the late '70s -- and also got a little carried away with climbing on his car, pulling out chunks of his hair and chasing him out of Dodger Stadium during the 1977 World Series -- Shaun Cassidy, 64, is back on the music stage. His new self-penned show "The Magic of a Midnight Sky," which arrived at New York City's 54 Below club on June 21 for a sold-out five-night run, offers an intimate look into his family life, including growing up with his mom, Oscar-winning actress Shirley Jones, 89; his dad, Tony-winning actor Jack Cassidy (who died in an apartment fire in 1976); and his half brother and fellow teen idol David of The Partridge Family fame. ( David died of liver failure in 2017 at age 67.)

"I missed that connection because I'd been hiding out behind a desk or in my house, trying not to be a celebrity, not to look like the kid I had been," says Shaun. "And I realized I was denying myself not only an important part of who I am but a connection with this audience and an experience that was really left unfinished."

Shaun stepped back from his pop career in 1980, and while performing with David in a Broadway production of "Blood Brothers" in 1993, he created and wrote his first television pilot, American Gothic. Since then he's worked behind the scenes as a creator, writer and producer in TV. His credits include Roar (starring a young Heath Ledger), Invasion, Cold Case and, most recently, New Amsterdam, which ran for five seasons on NBC. Now he's telling his story through songs and memories. "It's about a shared experience," Shaun says, "and the healing magic that offers."

how business was the Cassidy family norm for Shaun, who as a kid often wrote songs while banging away on neighbor Rosemary Clooney's piano as her kids played basketball with their cousin George Clooney. When Shaun wasn't writing music, he was working on his magic show -- "I was Cassidini," he says with a wry smile -- and performing at neighborhood birthday parties, including on for a 5-year-old Jennifer Aniston.

A twist of fate -- and casting -- landed his mom on the popular 1970-74 TV series The Partridge Family, playing the mother of stepson David. The show turned then-20-year-old David into an international teen idol. By the time Shaun signed his own record deal at age 16, he had a solid grasp of celebrity. "Pop star? Short shelf life," says Shaun. "And I'd seen the ups and downs my parents went through as performers."

In 1977 he released his self-title debut album, which went multiplatinum with the No. 1 single "Da Doo Ron Ron." That same year he began a three-season run opposite Parker Stevenson on The Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew Mysteries. in 1980 he told a crowd of some 55,000 at the now-defunct Houston Astrodome he'd "see them soon," and then he hung up his satin pants and microphone. "I'm objective about it now," he says. "I asked the question, 'How did that kid survive that experience?' I'm still trying to figure it out. But I do think going away from it saved it for me. To step back [in] on my own terms is extraordinary."

ack in Newton, Shaun's voice fills the theater with Broadway classics his parents once sang, as well as his beloved hits and new material. Suddenly a woman leaves her seat and rushes to the stage, handing a black bra to Shaun as the audience screams approval. "Hmm," he says, placing the undergarment beneath his jacket and then later on the side of the piano. "That kind of thing doesn't happen all the time," says his nephew Cole Cassidy, who plays lead guitar in Shaun's new show. "But playing music with him is a great experience and really so fun."

The love Shaun's fans still have for him has been somewhat confusing for his seven kids -- aged 41 to 11 -- especially the ones still living at the Santa Barbara-area home he shares with his wife, Tracey, and two dogs, two cats, two horses, two pigs, a rabbit and a tortoise. Though episode of The Hardy Boys are streaming on Peacock, his kids "have better things to do," he says.

Shaun talks to his mom, Shirley, often; she's seen his autobiographical new show, which includes stories about both of his parents. "My father was the most complicated human being I've ever known," he says. (Jack and Shirley divorced in 1974.) "The most exceptional human being, and probably the most flawed. I have great things from him... but I am alive because of my mom." He says he thinks about David every day: "They're all there with me."

Going back and looking at it all again has been profoundly healing. "For 30 years I've been avoiding telling my own story," he says. I've written about myself and my family in every show I've ever worked on, but I've disguised them. Working on this opened a door to actually talk directly about myself and my family, and it's been really illuminating and freeing."  

The guitar virtuoso looks back on a life of high notes,
from Woodstock to his 'Smooth' Comeback.

By Rachel DeSantis in People

hen Carlos Santana hit the stage at Woodstock in 1969, he had no idea the gig would kick off his ascent to the hallowed status of legendary guitarist. He wasn't even sure he'd be able to get through the show. "It was a real test, and the test was ' You are higher than an astronaut's butt right now with whatever Jerry Garcia shared with me,'" Santana, 75, recalls of good given to him by the Grateful Dead frontman. "When I came out onstage, I was like, 'Oh my God, am I going to be able to play? I can't even touch my nose.'" But play he did. And Santana's sizzling riffs -- which he still cranks out in the band that bears his last name -- made him a bona fide star after that festival set. "I was absolutely not prepared," he says, "but grace has a way of presenting the right timing."

In the years since, Santana, who was raised in Jalisco, Mexico, by his dad, José, a musician, and his mom, Josefina, has achieved perfect harmony. His band found glory with hits like 1969's "Evil Ways" and 1970's "Black Magic Woman" and was inducted into the Rock & Roll hall of Fame in 1998. The following year he launched a career renaissance with "Smooth," a No. 1 collaboration with Matchbox Twenty singer Rob Thomas form Santana's Supernatural LP, which won eight Grammys, including Album of the Year.

Now he's sharing his story in the documentary Carlos, which premiered at the Tribeca Festival in New York City on June 17. Decades after wowing the crowd at Woodstock, the dad of three (he shares son Salvador, 40, and daughters Angelica, 33, and Stella, 38, with ex-wife Deborah King) still has the same goals he had on that fateful day in 1969. "I love offering hope and courage to people," says Santana, who married drummer Cindy Blackman, 63, in 2010. "I utilize what I learned when I was a child: to offer a heartfelt tug to the listener and validate their existence." Here he shares some of the knowledge life and music have given him.

Be willing to forgive. It's a necessary part of life.

My son and I were talking about this yesterday, how acceptance and forgiveness are really spiritual. I learned to look at everyone who ever went out of their way to hurt me, demean me or make me feel like less, like they're 5 or 6 years old, and I'm able to look at them with understanding and compassion. [Between the ages of 10 and 12, Santana was sexually abused by a family friend.] For example, this person who abused me sexually, instead of sending him to hell forever, I visualized him like a child, and behind him there was a lot of light. So I can send him to the light or send him to hell knowing that if I send him to hell, I'm going to go with him. But if I send him to the light, then I'm going to go with him also. There's this saying, "Hurt people hurt people." It's my pain. It did happen to me. But if you open your hands, and you let it go, then you don't feel it anymore.

Fame has some unbelievable perks...

[The late concert promoter] Bill Graham told me, "After Woodstock your head is going to be so big you're going to need a shoehorn to walk into a room." And we were like, "Man, we're not like that." And he goes, "Trust me." Next thing I knew, we received our first royalty check, and I was like, "Oh my God, look at all the zeros to the right." I said, "Take the check to Mom to get the house like you promised you were going to do when you were 7 years old in Tijuana. Go get the house, get the refrigerator, get everything you need."

...but it's important to stay levelheaded amid the chaos of success.

I noticed that the more fame came, the more miserable I was. I felt lonely and empty, and I said, "What the hell is wrong with me? I should be really happy." Some people say, "Man, I want to be a rock star." I go, "You don't know what you're talking about, man, because when you get what you ask for, you're going to be really miserable." You want the adulation and attention, but something else comes with it -- the responsibility of thinking that the world is on your back, and you have to come up onstage and produce music that inspires people. How can you do that when you are overindulging in everything? Treat fame like an impostor, and it won't have any power over you. Now everything's a fun time because there's still a 7-year-old Carlos in me that looks at life like, "What are we going to get into today? I'm just starting, and everything has prepared me for this.

True love isn't an impossible dream.

My parents were married [almost] 60 years. Somehow every time they looked at each other, it was time for us to leave the room. There was always love. Like any family, there was drama, but I could tell by the way they looked at each other that their love was bigger than anything their minds or the world could throw on them.

Quality time together is essential to a marriage.

For Deborah and I, when it just dissipated was around the peak of Supernatural, because I was on the road so much promoting the album. [The couple split in 2007 after 34 years of marriage.] Deborah told me that she thought I was living la vida loca while she was taking care of the children and the business. What was missing was us time. When we divorced, it was very hurtful; it felt like somebody ripped my heart open and shot some dry ice into it. I couldn't believe it was over, because we'd never known divorce in my family.

Always be open to second chances.

I've always been infatuated with strong women because my mother was like that. [After my divorce] I was meditating and talking to God, and I said, "I need a queen to come home to share this. Love is unconditional, and I need someone who loves me and grows with me." And next thing I know, here comes Cindy. The way Cindy walked like a New York woman, filled with confidence, I was like, "Damn." The way she looks at me, the way she touches me, it's like she's my best friend.  

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