Good Life

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Overview

The ageless crooner has been the subject of quite a renaissance of late. "MTV Unplugged", a Grammy-Award winning album, and the much-talked-about film "Rat Pack" are just a few of the signs. (For others, check your local swingers and lounge lizards in their black suits and shades!) The man himself is never out of style, and his autobiography follows suit.
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The Good Life: The Autobiography Of Tony Bennett

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Overview

The ageless crooner has been the subject of quite a renaissance of late. "MTV Unplugged", a Grammy-Award winning album, and the much-talked-about film "Rat Pack" are just a few of the signs. (For others, check your local swingers and lounge lizards in their black suits and shades!) The man himself is never out of style, and his autobiography follows suit.
Read More Show Less

Editorial Reviews

From Barnes & Noble
Every generation, it seems, discovers Tony Bennett anew. The man Frank Sinatra once dubbed "the best singer in the business, the best exponent of a song" doesn't get older, he gets better. Already an accomplished painter as well as a singer, Bennett now adds "author" to his résumé with The Good Life, a look back at a remarkable life and career.
New York Times
Tony Bennett has not just bridged the generation gap, he has demolished it.
Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
With Frank Sinatra at eternal rest and Mel Torme felled by a 1996 stroke, Bennett has assumed the mantle of America's greatest crooner. This memoir tracks the singer's life from his birth in 1926 in Astoria, Queens, as Antonio Dominick Benedetto, through adolescent dalliances with music and art, an overseas stint in the Army and a series of stateside breaks that established him as a jazzy, technically masterful interpreter of popular standards. There are delightful bits of trivia, such as that Bennett, during his late-1980s comeback, became the first animated real-life character on The Simpsons. There's philosophy of a mild sort as Bennett lets off some steam about America's failure to deliver on its birthright of equality; he also laments that race, religion and sexual orientation divide people of like minds. Most of all, there are names, swarms of them. Bennett's list of influences, collaborators, acquaintances, employees and friends reads like a phone book of 20th-century celebrity. For all its star power, the book is ultimately undermined by a shortage of musical insight. Bennett only hints at his well-known animosity toward the rock music that derailed his career in the late '60s and early '70s. And while he is forthright about his demons, particularly two failed marriages and a nasty cocaine habit that almost ended in an overdose, this confessional strain is overpowered by a seeming preoccupation with portraying himself and his loved ones as fair-minded and affable. Bennett's book would have been better if he had left a little bit less of his heart in San Francisco and put a little bit more into this effort. (Nov.)
Library Journal
Bennett follows up a remarkable singing career with this biography. Look for the A&E "Live by Request" performance and a 50th-anniversary prime-time TV special.
The New York Times
Tony Bennett has not just bridged the generation gap, he has demolished it.
From the Publisher
Frank Sinatra Tony Bennett is the best singer in the business.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780756756703
  • Publisher: DIANE Publishing Company
  • Publication date: 4/1/1998
  • Pages: 312

Meet the Author

Tony Bennett

Tony Bennett lives in New York City. A book of his paintings, Tony Bennett: What My Heart Has Seen, was published in 1996.

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Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

My paternal grandfather, Giovanni Benedetto, who died before my father was born, grew up in the small, isolated village of Podargoni in Calabria, Italy.

Because the Benedetto family originally came from the north of Italy, they were fair-skinned and fair-haired, like northern Europeans, and quite unlike their fellow dark-haired, dark-skinned Calabrese. My father's mother, Maria, was so fair that she was known as "La Germanesa," the German woman. The Benedettos were essentially poor farmers, producing olive oil, figs, and wine grapes. My mother's side of the family was named Suraci, and they also made their living farming in Calabria. Like everyone else in the region, they were unable to read and write.

My paternal grandmother and my maternal grandmother were sisters. Maria Suraci married Giovanni Benedetto, and they became my father's parents, and Vincenza Suraci married Antonio Suraci (who by coincidence had the same last name), and they became my mother's parents.

My father, Giovanni (John) Benedetto, was born in 1895. The youngest of five children, he was named after my grandfather. When my grandmother was pregnant with my father, she dreamt that her late husband came to her from the "other side" and told her to name the boy "Giovanni," after him.

Italians at that time were very superstitious. My father was very sickly as a child, and although they didn't know it then, we later found out that he had suffered from rheumatic fever. But as family lore has it, everyone attributed his aches and pains to the fact that my grandmother grieved for her dead husband while she was pregnant, and her grieving had made my father a sickly child. The older people in the village served as the only available "doctors," and they made their diagnoses based more on old-fashioned superstition than on medicine. Nobody went to the hospital — there weren't any — and the only remedies were home remedies.

Despite the problems with his health, my father was essentially a joyful child. My Aunt Frances used to tell me that she often looked after my father while she and Grandma would be out working the land. They'd set my father down to play in the shade of the nearest tree. He'd smile happily and watch the blue sky above, and she'd never hear a peep out of him. From the beginning, I've been told, he loved music and song, and as a boy he had a wonderful singing voice. He would often climb to the top of the mountains in Calabria and sing out to the whole valley below. Singing is a part of my heritage. I'm convinced it's in my blood, and that's why I'm a singer today.

By the 1890s a widespread blight had forced thousands of farmers, including the Benedettos and Suracis, to leave their beloved homeland, and my mother's parents, Antonio and Vincenza Suraci, were the first of my relatives to make the trip to America.

The emigration of an entire family was a gradual process in those days. When they left Italy in late January 1899 with their two children, my Uncle Frank and my Aunt Mary, my grandmother was one month pregnant with my mother. When they arrived in New York, they had no relatives to greet them or show them the ropes. But some friends from their village had made the journey a few years earlier, and had written to tell them that they would have a place to live when they came over.

I consider my grandparents, as well as the many immigrants before and after them, to be the most courageous of people. It astounds me even to contemplate what it meant for them to leave behind everything they knew. They journeyed across the ocean without any idea of what they'd find on the other side, and none of them had ever ventured more than a few miles from the spot where they were born. It must have been terrifying, knowing that they would never see their childhood homes, or their own parents, again.

My grandparents packed up their essential belongings and took the train north to Naples. At the Naples Emigrant Aid Society they went through some minor processing and were then ferried out in a small boat to the middle of Naples Bay, where they boarded the huge steamship that would take them to America.

After three weeks crossing the Atlantic, the ship finally entered New York harbor and my grandparents put on their best clothes and stepped onto Ellis Island. There they were subjected to a series of humiliating and frightening questions put to them by the immigration inspectors. After they passed their physical examinations they were led into the great hall, where they waited for their names to be called. Because of the high rate of illiteracy, many new immigrants arrived without the right documents. The derogatory term "wop," an acronym for "With Out Papers," would be stamped on the forms of these unfortunates and officials would call out, "We have another 'wop.' Send him home." I can only imagine how my grandparents felt, not knowing whether they might at any moment be rejected and sent back to Italy.

But fortunately my grandparents at last heard their names called, had their entry papers stamped, and were loaded onto another small boat that took them to the southernmost tip of Manhattan Island at Battery Park. They made their way along the crowded streets to the address they had been given by their friends, a five-story tenement building at 139 Mulberry Street, and their first home in America. The following September, my mother, Anna Suraci, was born. She was the first of our family to be born in the United States.

Gradually my grandparents helped the rest of the family make it over. Once they found work, they sent money home to the family in Calabria to sponsor the rest of the family's passage. When the new arrivals got here, my grandparents took them into their home and helped them find jobs and a place to live.

At about the same time, my grandmother Maria Benedetto, now without a husband, began to contemplate joining her sister Vincenza in America. Most of the Benedetto family, including my Uncle Dominick, arrived in the early 1900s. Finally, in 1906, they sent for my grandmother and my father.

When the Benedettos arrived in New York, most of them settled, as had the Suracis, in Little Italy. Tenement buildings lined the narrow dirt streets and pushcarts crowded the sidewalks. The streets were packed shoulder to shoulder with crowds of people: men with big mustaches, wearing bowlers or Italian straw hats; women with their hair pulled back in a bun, wearing long dresses and brightly colored striped shawls and clutching woven baskets as they tested the street vendors' fruit and vegetables for that day's meal. Children were everywhere, playing in the muddy streets among the pushcarts, vendors, and the horses and carriages. This neighborhood was a far cry from the lush open fields of Calabria my family had left behind.

Grandpa Antonio Suraci really lived the "American dream," and took full advantage of the opportunities offered to him in his new country. He moved the family to a quieter neighborhood on Twelfth Street on the East Side between First and Second Avenues. It was here that my grandfather started a wholesale fruit-and-vegetable business catering to the pushcart owners. Every morning they congregated at his basement warehouse before sunrise to pick up the produce they'd sell all across downtown New York. My grandfather got up early in the morning every day and worked until the sun went down. He wasn't much at numbers, so he let my grandmother handle all the money. At the end of the day he gave her whatever he'd earned, and she paid all the bills and stashed whatever was left over in an old trunk she kept hidden under their bed. They had a big family at this time. Although my Uncle Frank and Aunt Mary were out on their own, my grandparents still had five children living at home.

My mother, like my father, had also been a sickly child, and I guess because he thought her prospects for marriage were slim, my Uncle Frank decided that she should study to become a schoolteacher so she could support herself. Uncle Frank was the oldest brother, and traditionally the oldest brother had as much to say as the parents in family matters. Frank decided it was time for him to take charge and start planning my mother's future.

Education had been nonexistent in Calabria. Children worked the fields from a very early age, and people felt that reading and writing were not as important as learning the skills necessary to survive. The idea of taking a child out of its mother's care was seen as an absolute threat to the Italian family and was vehemently resisted. But this was America, and against the family's protests Uncle Frank arranged for my mom to attend school.

But as it happened, he was courting a young Austrian woman named Emma. Even though she was a Catholic, my grandparents were against Uncle Frank's involvement with somebody who wasn't Italian. They threatened that if he married this woman they'd take my mother out of school. In spite of the threat, Frank married Emma, whom he loved very much (more than tradition, I guess), and so my mother never had a chance to finish her education.

The Benedetto family was also busy establishing themselves in New York. My grandmother Maria continued to live in Little Italy, but my father's sister Antoinette and her husband Demetri moved to midtown in 1918. They opened a grocery store on the corner of Sixth Avenue and Fifty-second Street and lived in an apartment above. My dad went to work for them and moved into a spare room.

This part of town was remote; most everything was downtown, and it was years before the growth of modern day midtown. Ironically, this grocery store was on the very same spot that, years later, my recording label, CBS, would build their headquarters, informally known as "Black Rock," which is descriptive of the color and style of this massive structure. I was told by one of the presidents of the company that sales of my records subsidized at least ten floors of that building!

When my father was twenty-four years old, with a steady job, his thoughts naturally turned toward marriage and raising a family of his own. Now, in those days, tradition dictated that marriages be arranged, and family discussions began in earnest about the possible pairing of young John Benedetto to his attractive and amiable cousin Anna Suraci. By contemporary standards these arrangements must seem quite unusual: my parents were betrothed to each other by their parents, and they were first cousins. But both of these practices were common among immigrants who came from small villages. So on November 30, 1919, my mother and my father were married in lower Manhattan.

My father kept his job at the grocery store, and they lived at my uncle's on Fifty-second Street until my sister, Mary, was born in October 1920. By then the apartment was overcrowded, so my father's brother Dominick, who owned a general store in upstate New York, suggested that my father come to work for him. My parents moved with their new daughter to Pyrites.

Everything went well for a while. When my mother became pregnant again, my father asked Dominick for a raise, and my uncle turned him down flat. Hurt and upset, my parents packed up and moved back to Fifty-second Street, and that's where my older brother, John Benedetto, Jr., was born in 1923.

My grandfather and grandmother Suraci decided they had also had enough of city life. One night my grandfather told my grandmother of his dream of buying a house for just the two of them, a place with a garden. She looked at my grandfather and then she said very casually, "Oh, we have money to buy a house." All those years, Grandpa Antonio had just assumed that everything he made got spent on raising his seven children. But then Grandma went into the bedroom, reached under the bed, and pulled out that old trunk. Inside was ten thousand dollars in cash, a fortune at that time! My grandfather had never suspected that she'd managed money so well.

So Grandpa and Grandma were able to make another dream come true. They moved to a suburban part of New York known as Astoria, Queens, and they bought a two-family house at 2381 Thirty-second Street. Astoria was rural by today's standards, and compared to Manhattan, it was the country! With their ten thousand dollars my grandparents were able to buy their new house and the undeveloped lot right next door. I remember my grandmother had a goat and some chickens wandering around on the property, and a huge garden. Sooner or later, the rest of the Suracis and Benedettos moved to Astoria, and that house on Thirty-second Street became the heart of our family life for decades to come.

A few years earlier my parents had followed my grandparents to Astoria and had opened up a grocery store of their own. They and my brother and sister lived in the apartment upstairs.

In 1924, soon after my brother John was born, my father got sick. My parents were running the store and taking care of the kids — the whole thing was a family affair — but it was too much for my ailing father and my mother, so by the time my mother became pregnant with me, they were already thinking about selling the store. Despite these problems, my mother told me they were thrilled to be having another child, and they eagerly awaited my birth.

Copyright © 1998 by Tony Bennett

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First Chapter

Chapter One

My paternal grandfather, Giovanni Benedetto, who died before my father was born, grew up in the small, isolated village of Podargoni in Calabria, Italy.

Because the Benedetto family originally came from the north of Italy, they were fair-skinned and fair-haired, like northern Europeans, and quite unlike their fellow dark-haired, dark-skinned Calabrese. My father's mother, Maria, was so fair that she was known as "La Germanesa," the German woman. The Benedettos were essentially poor farmers, producing olive oil, figs, and wine grapes. My mother's side of the family was named Suraci, and they also made their living farming in Calabria. Like everyone else in the region, they were unable to read and write.

My paternal grandmother and my maternal grandmother were sisters. Maria Suraci married Giovanni Benedetto, and they became my father's parents, and Vincenza Suraci married Antonio Suraci (who by coincidence had the same last name), and they became my mother's parents.

My father, Giovanni (John) Benedetto, was born in 1895. The youngest of five children, he was named after my grandfather. When my grandmother was pregnant with my father, she dreamt that her late husband came to her from the "other side" and told her to name the boy "Giovanni," after him.

Italians at that time were very superstitious. My father was very sickly as a child, and although they didn't know it then, we later found out that he had suffered from rheumatic fever. But as family lore has it, everyone attributed his aches and pains to the fact that my grandmother grieved for her dead husband while she was pregnant, and her grieving had made my father a sickly child. The older people in the village served as the only available "doctors," and they made their diagnoses based more on old-fashioned superstition than on medicine. Nobody went to the hospital -- there weren't any -- and the only remedies were home remedies.

Despite the problems with his health, my father was essentially a joyful child. My Aunt Frances used to tell me that she often looked after my father while she and Grandma would be out working the land. They'd set my father down to play in the shade of the nearest tree. He'd smile happily and watch the blue sky above, and she'd never hear a peep out of him. From the beginning, I've been told, he loved music and song, and as a boy he had a wonderful singing voice. He would often climb to the top of the mountains in Calabria and sing out to the whole valley below. Singing is a part of my heritage. I'm convinced it's in my blood, and that's why I'm a singer today.

By the 1890s a widespread blight had forced thousands of farmers, including the Benedettos and Suracis, to leave their beloved homeland, and my mother's parents, Antonio and Vincenza Suraci, were the first of my relatives to make the trip to America.

The emigration of an entire family was a gradual process in those days. When they left Italy in late January 1899 with their two children, my Uncle Frank and my Aunt Mary, my grandmother was one month pregnant with my mother. When they arrived in New York, they had no relatives to greet them or show them the ropes. But some friends from their village had made the journey a few years earlier, and had written to tell them that they would have a place to live when they came over.

I consider my grandparents, as well as the many immigrants before and after them, to be the most courageous of people. It astounds me even to contemplate what it meant for them to leave behind everything they knew. They journeyed across the ocean without any idea of what they'd find on the other side, and none of them had ever ventured more than a few miles from the spot where they were born. It must have been terrifying, knowing that they would never see their childhood homes, or their own parents, again.

My grandparents packed up their essential belongings and took the train north to Naples. At the Naples Emigrant Aid Society they went through some minor processing and were then ferried out in a small boat to the middle of Naples Bay, where they boarded the huge steamship that would take them to America.

After three weeks crossing the Atlantic, the ship finally entered New York harbor and my grandparents put on their best clothes and stepped onto Ellis Island. There they were subjected to a series of humiliating and frightening questions put to them by the immigration inspectors. After they passed their physical examinations they were led into the great hall, where they waited for their names to be called. Because of the high rate of illiteracy, many new immigrants arrived without the right documents. The derogatory term "wop," an acronym for "With Out Papers," would be stamped on the forms of these unfortunates and officials would call out, "We have another 'wop.' Send him home." I can only imagine how my grandparents felt, not knowing whether they might at any moment be rejected and sent back to Italy.

But fortunately my grandparents at last heard their names called, had their entry papers stamped, and were loaded onto another small boat that took them to the southernmost tip of Manhattan Island at Battery Park. They made their way along the crowded streets to the address they had been given by their friends, a five-story tenement building at 139 Mulberry Street, and their first home in America. The following September, my mother, Anna Suraci, was born. She was the first of our family to be born in the United States.

Gradually my grandparents helped the rest of the family make it over. Once they found work, they sent money home to the family in Calabria to sponsor the rest of the family's passage. When the new arrivals got here, my grandparents took them into their home and helped them find jobs and a place to live.

At about the same time, my grandmother Maria Benedetto, now without a husband, began to contemplate joining her sister Vincenza in America. Most of the Benedetto family, including my Uncle Dominick, arrived in the early 1900s. Finally, in 1906, they sent for my grandmother and my father.

When the Benedettos arrived in New York, most of them settled, as had the Suracis, in Little Italy. Tenement buildings lined the narrow dirt streets and pushcarts crowded the sidewalks. The streets were packed shoulder to shoulder with crowds of people: men with big mustaches, wearing bowlers or Italian straw hats; women with their hair pulled back in a bun, wearing long dresses and brightly colored striped shawls and clutching woven baskets as they tested the street vendors' fruit and vegetables for that day's meal. Children were everywhere, playing in the muddy streets among the pushcarts, vendors, and the horses and carriages. This neighborhood was a far cry from the lush open fields of Calabria my family had left behind.


Grandpa Antonio Suraci really lived the "American dream," and took full advantage of the opportunities offered to him in his new country. He moved the family to a quieter neighborhood on Twelfth Street on the East Side between First and Second Avenues. It was here that my grandfather started a wholesale fruit-and-vegetable business catering to the pushcart owners. Every morning they congregated at his basement warehouse before sunrise to pick up the produce they'd sell all across downtown New York. My grandfather got up early in the morning every day and worked until the sun went down. He wasn't much at numbers, so he let my grandmother handle all the money. At the end of the day he gave her whatever he'd earned, and she paid all the bills and stashed whatever was left over in an old trunk she kept hidden under their bed. They had a big family at this time. Although my Uncle Frank and Aunt Mary were out on their own, my grandparents still had five children living at home.

My mother, like my father, had also been a sickly child, and I guess because he thought her prospects for marriage were slim, my Uncle Frank decided that she should study to become a schoolteacher so she could support herself. Uncle Frank was the oldest brother, and traditionally the oldest brother had as much to say as the parents in family matters. Frank decided it was time for him to take charge and start planning my mother's future.

Education had been nonexistent in Calabria. Children worked the fields from a very early age, and people felt that reading and writing were not as important as learning the skills necessary to survive. The idea of taking a child out of its mother's care was seen as an absolute threat to the Italian family and was vehemently resisted. But this was America, and against the family's protests Uncle Frank arranged for my mom to attend school.

But as it happened, he was courting a young Austrian woman named Emma. Even though she was a Catholic, my grandparents were against Uncle Frank's involvement with somebody who wasn't Italian. They threatened that if he married this woman they'd take my mother out of school. In spite of the threat, Frank married Emma, whom he loved very much (more than tradition, I guess), and so my mother never had a chance to finish her education.


The Benedetto family was also busy establishing themselves in New York. My grandmother Maria continued to live in Little Italy, but my father's sister Antoinette and her husband Demetri moved to midtown in 1918. They opened a grocery store on the corner of Sixth Avenue and Fifty-second Street and lived in an apartment above. My dad went to work for them and moved into a spare room.

This part of town was remote; most everything was downtown, and it was years before the growth of modern day midtown. Ironically, this grocery store was on the very same spot that, years later, my recording label, CBS, would build their headquarters, informally known as "Black Rock," which is descriptive of the color and style of this massive structure. I was told by one of the presidents of the company that sales of my records subsidized at least ten floors of that building!

When my father was twenty-four years old, with a steady job, his thoughts naturally turned toward marriage and raising a family of his own. Now, in those days, tradition dictated that marriages be arranged, and family discussions began in earnest about the possible pairing of young John Benedetto to his attractive and amiable cousin Anna Suraci. By contemporary standards these arrangements must seem quite unusual: my parents were betrothed to each other by their parents, and they were first cousins. But both of these practices were common among immigrants who came from small villages. So on November 30, 1919, my mother and my father were married in lower Manhattan.

My father kept his job at the grocery store, and they lived at my uncle's on Fifty-second Street until my sister, Mary, was born in October 1920. By then the apartment was overcrowded, so my father's brother Dominick, who owned a general store in upstate New York, suggested that my father come to work for him. My parents moved with their new daughter to Pyrites.

Everything went well for a while. When my mother became pregnant again, my father asked Dominick for a raise, and my uncle turned him down flat. Hurt and upset, my parents packed up and moved back to Fifty-second Street, and that's where my older brother, John Benedetto, Jr., was born in 1923.

My grandfather and grandmother Suraci decided they had also had enough of city life. One night my grandfather told my grandmother of his dream of buying a house for just the two of them, a place with a garden. She looked at my grandfather and then she said very casually, "Oh, we have money to buy a house." All those years, Grandpa Antonio had just assumed that everything he made got spent on raising his seven children. But then Grandma went into the bedroom, reached under the bed, and pulled out that old trunk. Inside was ten thousand dollars in cash, a fortune at that time! My grandfather had never suspected that she'd managed money so well.

So Grandpa and Grandma were able to make another dream come true. They moved to a suburban part of New York known as Astoria, Queens, and they bought a two-family house at 2381 Thirty-second Street. Astoria was rural by today's standards, and compared to Manhattan, it was the country! With their ten thousand dollars my grandparents were able to buy their new house and the undeveloped lot right next door. I remember my grandmother had a goat and some chickens wandering around on the property, and a huge garden. Sooner or later, the rest of the Suracis and Benedettos moved to Astoria, and that house on Thirty-second Street became the heart of our family life for decades to come.

A few years earlier my parents had followed my grandparents to Astoria and had opened up a grocery store of their own. They and my brother and sister lived in the apartment upstairs.

In 1924, soon after my brother John was born, my father got sick. My parents were running the store and taking care of the kids -- the whole thing was a family affair -- but it was too much for my ailing father and my mother, so by the time my mother became pregnant with me, they were already thinking about selling the store. Despite these problems, my mother told me they were thrilled to be having another child, and they eagerly awaited my birth.

Copyright © 1998 by Tony Bennett

Read More Show Less

Interviews & Essays

On November 3, 1998, barnesandnoble.com was proud to welcome Tony Bennett to our Authors@aol series. Eight-time Grammy Award winner Tony Bennett is a living legend in popular music. His 50th year in show business is accompanied by a new CD, "The Playground," as well as his autobiography, THE GOOD LIFE.



Leightonbn: Mr. Bennett, we're beside ourselves having you as a guest tonight.

Tony Bennett: That's very nice.


Leightonbn: If you're all set, we'll turn it over to the audience.

Question: When you first started singing onstage, did you have stage fright? If so, how did you overcome that?

Tony Bennett: Well, it took about ten years. But you learn to eliminate all the negatives and focus on the positives. I found the more prepared I was, the less frightened I was.


Question: I have been a longtime fan of yours, Mr. Bennett. I think your voice and music have helped bridge a gap between generations. What are your plans for the near future?

Tony Bennett: I'm singing "This Is a Wonderful Season." This Friday I'm singing the opening in the Christmas show at Radio City. And December 7th I'm doing "Live on Request" on A&E. And President Clinton has asked me to light the Christmas tree this year.


Question: I saw your performance at the Melody Tent in Hyannis on Cape Cod this past summer and was truly entertained. Where and how did you meet up with Ralph Sharon? You two seem to be in such great sync.

Tony Bennett: Ralph Sharon has been with me for 30 years. I was looking for a new accompanist, and there was a long line of piano players that came. And he was the second one to audition. He was so good! I said, "If you want the job, you've got it!"


Question: I heard of the Christmas cards that you have out, whose proceeds go to charity. Are these cards still available?

Tony Bennett: Yes, it's for the Cancer Society. I do a Christmas card every year.


Question: Hello, Mr. Bennett. My name is Albert, and I am only 14 but such a great fan of yours. About how old were you when you first started singing? And where?

Tony Bennett: I was about your age, and I started as a singing waiter in my hometown of Astoria.


Question: So far, what has been the most memorable experience for you as a singer?

Tony Bennett: The soldiers in Vietnam. When they were waiting to come home after the war was over, they were sitting around the campfire and all singing "I Left My Heart in San Francisco."


Question: Who is the person that you would most like to share a compilation with?

Tony Bennett: Madonna! [laughs]


Question: Did you really leave your heart in San Francisco, or is it in New York?

Tony Bennett: No, I still haven't found my heart.


Question: Have you ever lost your voice before a concert?

Tony Bennett: Only a few times, when I'd get a severe cold and it would go into my chest. They'd have to cancel. Maybe four times in 50 years.


Question: Where did you get your passion for music and your love relationship and appreciation for your fans?

Tony Bennett: From my family. They would help my mother out. My father died when I was ten years old. My mother was a seamstress and had to work and raise three children. So all my relatives would come over to my house every Sunday and cheer myself, my brother, and my sister on to entertain them. It was their inspiration that made me feel like doing it for the rest of my life.


Question: Mr. Bennett, I have always heard you were born in a small town in upstate New York -- Pyrites -- although you didn't live there long. Is there any truth to that statement?

Tony Bennett: Yes. When my father died, my uncle had me come up to his home in Pyrites.


Question: Who are some of your favorite singers of all time?

Tony Bennett: Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, Peggy Lee, Louis Armstrong, Bing Crosby, and Nat King Cole.


Question: Who did you pattern your singing after?

Tony Bennett: Well, if you imitate one it's thievery, and if you imitate something from all of them, it's research.


Question: You are a singer, an artist, and an author. What's next? Have you thought of acting -- a comedy, for instance? It appears that you have a good sense of humor.

Tony Bennett: No, I actually like to sing and paint. I just want to spend the rest of my life improving on that and getting better and better at what I do.


Question: Why did you sing "America the Beautiful" instead of the National Anthem at the start of the World Series?

Tony Bennett: Because that song is a much better song than the National Anthem, and it's more how I would like to see America expressed.


Question: How do you feel about the Generation Xers (such as myself) accepting you and your musical style along with today's musical styles? I must say, though, I was a fan of yours before the hype of the MTV generation adoring you was so heavily publicized!

Tony Bennett: I never liked the expression given to the young that Generation X is the slackers. I've found them much more astute than the Beatle generation. I consider them highly educated and moral, and they were not treated right by the press, I thought.


Question: You sound so busy, what do you do to unwind from all the pressure?

Tony Bennett: I paint and I play tennis.


Question: Did you get out your vote today?

Tony Bennett: Yes.


Question: Who has been the most supportive to you in your career?

Tony Bennett: My fans, the public.


Question: If you could give everyone one thing, what would it be?

Tony Bennett: I would try to stop all wars.


Question: Can you tell us about Frank Sinatra's memorial service? What moved you the most? Are you in contact with Barbara Sinatra? How is she doing?

Tony Bennett: Barbara is doing wonderful. I've just enlisted Mayor Giuliani to put a statue on Broadway of Frank Sinatra. At the service, Gregory Peck impressed me the most when a newspaperman said to him, "You were Sinatra's friend, how come you weren't one of the Rat Pack?" His answer was, "Bad casting!"


Question: Where do you like to paint most? Do you sketch often? Is your artwork for sale?

Tony Bennett: I paint every day. I sketch every day. And sometimes I have gallery showings.


Question: What does "home for the holidays" mean for you this year?

Tony Bennett: Everything....it's the best time of the year. Everyone's good to one another.


Question: Mr. Bennett, any chance you will collaborate with Johnny Mandel in the future?

Tony Bennett: I would love to, anytime. He's a great person.


Question: So, what was it like to work with the Backstreet Boys on your VH-1 special?

Tony Bennett: It was quite different. We had a young audience, ages 5-13 or so, 200 of them. It turned out to be very successful. They're very popular and terrific guys, and I think they're going to go a long way. The audience loved them.


Question: Who had the most influence on you as a child?

Tony Bennett: A wonderful teacher named James MacWhinney. He was an art teacher. He took me to do watercolor one day, and I've been painting ever since.


Question: Can you tell us a little bit about this special you did for VH-1?

Tony Bennett: It's called "Save the Music." It'll be a simulcast on VH-1 and Nickelodeon. It's the first time something like this will be broadcast simultaneously on two different networks.


Question: How did it feel when Sinatra publicly called you his favorite singer?

Tony Bennett: My first reaction was, "Well, what does he know!" [laughs]


Question: What was the greatest gift you've ever given?

Tony Bennett: I really don't know how to answer that.


Question: Did you ever receive voice training?

Tony Bennett: Yes.


Question: Do you feel with the prospective success of your new book and your recent musical "comeback" that your career has reached it's peak?

Tony Bennett: I don't know about that. You know, there is always the next season. It's been the best season I've run into.


Question: What inspired you toward contemporary jazz-style singing? Why not opera, etc.?

Tony Bennett: Well, the only traditions that we have in the United States that we can call our own are baseball and jazz. Those are the only two things we've contributed to that are purely American.


Leightonbn: This will be our last question this evening..

Question: When did you realize you were living "the good life"?

Tony Bennett: The book is almost an antithesis to the good life. There are disappointing moments and tragic moments, it's a roller-coaster -- ups and downs. After reading the book, I'm finally comfortable with myself. I feel good about life. It's been very good to me.


Leightonbn: Mr. Bennett, we're very grateful to have shared your company. Any closing remarks?

Tony Bennett: I just want to thank everyone very much for the good questions. Thank you! Everyone please buy the book because I need the money! [laughs]


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