I was pretty distraught yesterday when I heard Bobby Short had died of leukemia. I have kind of a funny relationship (totally one-sided of course) with him. He saved my life as a little kid and then slamdunked me with New York glamour and panache at a very impressionable age. Probably one of the reasons I live in this city now is because I saw him sing as a young adult and it made quite an impact on me.
My mom and dad divorced when I was 9 years old. It was a confusing and extremely sad part of my childhood and when I think back on those early days after the divorce the pain and bewilderment still feels fresh. One of the bright spots of that dim time was when my mom, not sure what to do with me and my sister when we were staying with her in godforsaken apartment complexes, decided to give us dancing lessons. She would pull out the double album that she (with little protest) had won in the divorce, "Bobby Short Loves Cole Porter" and put it on the stereo. We would blast "You've Got That Thing" or "How's Your Romance" and she would walk us through the box step and the foxtrot. It helped all three of us regain our footing so to speak. I remember doing this for hours and even when we weren't dancing I would put the album on and memorize all the words to every song. I had to be the only nine-year-old that knew all the lyrics to "Katie Went to Haiti" (The end of Short's version of that song still, STILL, makes my eyes well up with tears). It was all very therepeutic and I fell madly in love. To this day Bobby Short is Cole Porter to me. Mel Torme comes close, and Ella Fitzgerald does amazing things with him, but nobody could sing his songs like Short. Nobody.
Fast-forward a few years to when I was thirteen. We were living in Cincinnati and my mom decided to take me with her on a business trip to New York. At the time i was going to a performing arts middle high/high school (think "Fame" in the midwest) and DEEPLY committed to music theater and the american songbook. My mom asked me what I wanted to do when we were in New York. I told her I wanted to see "Cats" (which had just opened) and I wanted to see Bobby Short at the Cafe Carlyle. My mother, with the help of some Madison Avenue graft, delivered. Loved "Cats" (for which I was mocked and humiliated for months by my savvier friends at school) but the night seeing Bobby Short sing stands out as one of the highlights of my life. No kidding.
We were staying at the Grand Hyatt (a total treat in and of itself) and we met up with other people from my mom's ad agency and proceeded to the Carlyle. On the way there one of the guys with us asked me if I knew the old commercial for "Charlie" perfume. I said sure and he said, "That's Bobby Short!" I remember giving him a look like he was indeed the lowest philistine that ever crossed my path and my mom stepped in and said "she knows who Bobby Short is. This was her idea." As I recall he was appropriately apologetic and I welcomed him back into the fold. We got to the hotel and walked into the Cafe and got seated in a banquette with a head-on view of the piano. I was beyond excited. Here i was, dressed to the nines (in some god-awful 80's jersey sack dress that i got at the Limited) in the most sophisticated spot in the greatest city on earth. I ordered a Shirley Temple and threw it back. Mom pointed out Gloria Vanderbilt sitting catty-corner to us. She was like an x-ray cheshire, all eye socket, smile and clavicle. Bobby Short came out to applause and sat down and proceeded to knock my socks off. I mouthed the lyrics to the songs I knew and beamed throughout the entire show. I was the hap-happiest I'd ever been and I wished that it would never end. Of course it did end and when the last song was over he winked at me. I swear. I remember that I couldn't sleep at all that night. I sat in the window of our hotel room watching the cabs go up and down 42nd street and replayed the evening in my head. The whole night lived larger than life in my memory and remains one of the best moments of my life. Thanks again Mom, it was an amazing gift. Rest in peace Bobby.
wow, neat story! :-) by the way, i'm terri...i live in vabeach. your awesome sis kara linked me to your site and i've enjoyed reading it and keeping up with the lowell pics. he's so adorable! take care!
Posted by: Terri | March 22, 2005 at 07:05 PM
Today's entry brought all of it back, both the pain and the joy of those times. You are an amazing writer. By the way, I got mocked about Cats for years too.
I'm listening to Bobby Short loves Cole Porter as we speak. Rest in peace, Bobby.
Posted by: mom | March 22, 2005 at 08:17 PM
Thanks Mom. Greetings Terri - thanks for commenting!
Posted by: LetterB | March 23, 2005 at 11:55 AM
hadn't checked letter b since mid feb. alana, you're a marvelous writer and i appreciate all the sharing. xxx
Posted by: deana | March 24, 2005 at 08:35 PM
I was lucky enough to catch Bobby Short just last November and I find it hard to believe a man with who exuded so much life could fall silent. I still laugh whenever I think of him at the piano, big eyes wide, smile lighting up the room, hands dancing over his head in a luminescent glow. A magical man.
Posted by: bordo | April 16, 2005 at 01:45 PM