A Singer Sings

I wonder about young singers who turn their noses up at an opportunity to sing because they feel that the audience or the venue or the event isn’t exciting or important enough. The way I see it, an opportunity to sing is an opportunity to sing. An opportunity to share my music and my love for my music and my singing is a golden opportunity. If my singing gives pleasure or comfort to others, that’s a bonus.

My memorable performances:

Singing with my high school choir for the Los Angeles Veterans Administration Hospital patients. Most of the patients assembled there were in wheelchairs. It was difficult to tell if they were enjoying our singing. I remember fighting back tears. I realized how important it was for us to be there, to bring youth and music to these people. I realized that we could be those people in the future, and they were us once. I grew up a little that day.

Spontaneous Christmas caroling with my high school friends at LAX. Something that couldn’t be done today, what with all of the airport security. We sang at gates and at curbside baggage checks. I’m not sure, but I think I recall us singing over a PA. There was a huge, flocked tree in what used to be the Continental Terminal, and the BEST acoustics. We made a few people smile. And we got a big kick out of our musical maraudings.

Also in high school, competing in the contest at Shakey’s Pizza Parlor. Incredibly, I was able to coax a phenomenal pianist to play for me. I sang a Burt Bacharach song and an Italian aria. Those two tunes complemented by pizza might have been enough to cause indigestion. I would have been happy just to sing. But I won! I still have the $25 savings bond. (It wasn’t about the money.)

In my 30s, singing the soprano solos in The Messiah for a small Seventh Day Adventist Church. I wasn’t prepared for the group, “Amen!” that followed the Rejoice Greatly. I almost burst out laughing. I must admit that I enjoyed the ‘cheer.’

Many of the Sundays I sang for various churches, because of what I saw on people’s faces.

In my 40s, singing as part of an (until then) all-male doo-wap group for a bar mitzvah. I was a last-minute emergency replacement singing a middle part with four other ‘guys.’ I remember singing “Splish Splash” with choreography. Me ‘taking a bath’ with the four of them had to look pretty funny.

Singing for my hometown Women’s Club when I was a senior in high school. There were only a few people there. My footsteps echoed as I walked across the almost empty room to the piano. The junior high school principal found out about my recital and showed up. I felt so special.

I was Tuptim in THE KING & I in a local recreation center production when I was 16. Breaking the silence at the end of my poignant love song, a child’s voice asked, “Is it over yet?” Ah, my public!

In my 50s, I believe, singing karaoke at Dimples in Burbank at my acting teacher’s (Steve Eastin) birthday party. I sang something ‘legit’ from a musical. Steve told me that while I was singing a friend leaned over and said to him, “At least SOMEBODY here can sing.” I’ve only sung karaoke twice in my life. The other time was in my 40s at an agent’s party. The only tune on the list that I was sure I could pull off was God Bless America. It kept going and going… I was so exasperated by the end of the song that the phrase, “God Bless America.” took on other than its intended connotations. It turned into a bit of a comedy routine.

I was about 18 or 19. I needed to sing and there wasn’t an outlet at the time. So I put together a recital. My mother helped me paste-up a master for a flyer with stick-on letters. The photography teacher at the high school took a ‘publicity’ picture of me. A friend from high school was my accompanist. My friends at the recreation center let me use the auditorium and the piano (on which I had taught myself to play whenever I could sneak in and use it). We sent word to the local paper and they printed a notice. I think there were 5 people in the audience. Among them was one man who I didn’t know who had seen the notice in the paper. My dad was there. He didn’t attend my performances as a general rule. I have a photo of me, my mom and my dad from that day that I treasure. Oh. I sang my heart out. Naturally. It was a chance to sing.

Other performances as I recall them…