Doc Pomus: From Brooklyn to Brill Building

Jerome Solon Felder, better known by his stage name Doc Pomus, was born on June 27, 1925, in Brooklyn, New York. Raised in a Jewish immigrant family, he contracted polio at the age of six and spent most of his life on crutches or in a wheelchair. But Doc didn’t let that slow him down—in fact, it gave his music a depth that few others could match. While he originally dreamed of singing the blues himself, he soon found a more powerful path: songwriting.

After spending the 1940s performing in blues clubs around New York City, Pomus made a pivotal shift. He began writing songs, eventually partnering with Mort Shuman, and together they became a Brill Building powerhouse. Their songwriting fingerprints are on some of the most iconic tracks of the 1950s and ’60s, including “Save the Last Dance for Me,” “This Magic Moment,” “A Teenager in Love,” “Sweets for My Sweet,” and “Little Sister.” Elvis Presley alone recorded several of their hits, such as “Viva Las Vegas” and “(Marie’s the Name) His Latest Flame.”

One of Doc’s earliest musical inspirations was hearing Big Joe Turner’s “Piney Brown Blues” at 15—a moment that sparked a lifelong love for rhythm and blues. He turned that passion into words that moved millions, even winning a Grammy in 1982 for B.B. King’s “There Must Be a Better World Somewhere.”

Despite being bound to a wheelchair, Pomus had an indomitable spirit. He married Broadway actress Willi Burke in 1957, though they later divorced. His daughter, Sharyn Felder, would go on to preserve his legacy through the award-winning documentary A.K.A. Doc Pomus.

Over the decades, Doc collaborated with legends like Ray Charles, Dr. John, Willy DeVille, and B.B. King. He even advised a young Bette Midler and helped shape the Blues Brothers’ sound. His work and personality inspired artists from Lou Reed to Bob Dylan to Bruce Springsteen. Posthumously, he was inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame, Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, and the Blues Hall of Fame.

Though Doc Pomus couldn’t stand on a stage, his songs stood the test of time. From the shadows of a Brooklyn childhood and the confines of a wheelchair, he shaped the soundtrack of a generation. His legacy is a reminder that real rhythm comes from the heart, not the feet.