Barry Manilow

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Barry Manilow Page 17

by Patricia Butler


  Recently, a TV crew came to tape three numbers during Barry’s live show in Philadelphia. When the agreed-upon songs were performed, Barry still saw the cameras with their red lights focused on him from all directions. He became incoherently furious and relives the episode with comparable passion. “My energy and adrenaline levels are up so high during a performance, I could probably lift a car. There were 20,000 people out there screaming their heads off. I was having a great time, but I kept seeing those cameras and their lights.

  “At one point, while I was introducing a band member who was doing a solo, I ran into the wings where one of these guys was and grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him further into the wings and yelled, ‘STOP IT!’ The guy sorta bounced around.

  “Then, when I went back onstage, I saw him crawling around to the other side. So I introduced another band member, ran offstage, shoved him again and said to my stage manager, ‘Get this man the [expletive deleted] off my stage! I don’t know what he’s doing here.’ What was coming out of my mouth was energy, not fury, But then they had said they were only going to tape three songs. I blew up like crazy and when the show was finished, I was still the same way. Because when I come offstage, if something is funny it’s incredibly funny, if something is sad I’m dissolved into tears, if something is upsetting it’s double, triple the upset.

  “The director came out and gave me a perfectly logical explanation why those cameramen were onstage, but I was not listening. I went crazy. Slammed the door in his face. I know he must have thought I was a total maniac and hated my guts. The next day the TV show called and apologised and I said, no, don’t apologise. I had no right to scream like that. That cameraman was a big person; he could have banged me on the head and killed me. But I was on this energy trip and actually threw him into the wings. I’m not a fighter, it’s just this insane energy that takes over.”

  As much concern as Barry would later express about what he put those around him through as he tried to adjust to everything that was happening to him at the height of his fame, those same people were even more concerned while it was happening, not for themselves, but for what their friend was struggling through. “The one thing I know from the earliest years of touring, the people that worked with Barry really liked Barry,” says Lee Gurst. “Nobody was in it just because it was a gig, not in those days. Back in the beginning we really were a sort of family, and we really cared. And everybody really was there and supportive in a very personal way.”

  Many of Barry’s entourage, including Gurst and the women of Lady Flash, were not only colleagues, but close, personal friends. Perhaps because of this, or perhaps simply because of his naturally generous nature, Barry would go out of his way to make sure those he travelled with were treated just as well as he was. “Barry was fair and took very good care of all of us in terms of, at least for the first three or four years, the band always stayed in the same hotel Barry did,” recalls Lee Gurst. “He never demanded anything for himself that he didn’t insist on for the group as well. That wasn’t the way things were done, but it was the way Barry wanted it.”

  It was a generosity that his friends appreciated and tried to reciprocate. Barry’s fame had made him instantly recognisable in public, which had led to Barry’s demands that rooms be emptied before he entered and that people be made to turn their backs when he walked by. “I get very uptight when I go to places with lots of people,” Barry told an interviewer at the time. “Even if they don’t stop to talk, a lot of people stare … it gets to you.” A deepening paranoia seized him, and Barry felt he had no choice but to confine himself to his hotel room most nights when he was on the road. “We tried to make life a little bit easier,” says Gurst who, with the trio of backup singers, would keep Barry company as much as possible. “At least he wouldn’t be locked in the hotel suite alone,” explains Gurst. “There was that kind of pressure. There was the pressure of maintaining a quality performance night after night under sometimes gruelling circumstances.”

  The tour hit Nevada in March 1977, with a six-show run at the Sahara in Lake Tahoe; comedian Billy Crystal was Barry’s opening act. The Sahara expressed its appreciation for Barry’s visit by running a full-page ad in the March 31, 1977 issue of Daily Variety thanking Barry for six sold-out shows. It was enough to make any performer giddy with joy. Wrote Barry of the time, “Alone in my hotel room, I felt as if a huge cloud had descended upon me and that I was walking around in cotton balls all the time. Now and then, I’d emerge and act human and everything would lighten up for a while, but mostly the success and pressure just pushed me further and further into my own confusion.”

  For all the torment he was experiencing and causing among his inner circle, those who saw the public Barry would likely have absolutely no inkling of the private turmoil he was experiencing. The public admired what seemed to be Barry’s down-home, self-deprecating good humour which was, in large part, the key to his concert success. Many other entertainers were equally admiring of Barry’s success and what appeared outwardly to be his ability to remain unaffected by stardom. Karen Carpenter was one of these admirers.

  During the tour, Barry found himself performing in the same town as Karen and Richard Carpenter. Extending professional courtesy to another headlining act, The Carpenters invited Manilow’s group to attend one of their shows on one of Manilow’s nights off. Barry went with Lee Gurst and Reparata (defying Miles Lourie’s strict “no fraternisation” policy among Barry’s entourage, Gurst and Reparata had quietly been married in October 1975; Barry had served as best man). After the show, the trio went backstage to introduce themselves to Richard and Karen Carpenter who, it turned out, had also caught one of Barry’s shows. Karen, it seemed, was a big fan of Barry’s.

  Back in Los Angeles, during a break from the tour, when a special event came up, Barry took Karen Carpenter as his guest for the evening. “There were a few times when they were together in that kind of thing,” says Gurst. “I think she kind of liked him. Maybe she didn’t know he was gay.”

  The Carpenters were one of the most musically educated and professional acts in the music business at that time. Richard was an accomplished pianist, songwriter, arranger and producer. Karen, a consummate percussionist, possessed a honeyed alto singing voice that made the most of her brother’s imaginative arrangements. Raised in a strict, sometimes stifling, middle-class family Karen, like Barry, had room for little in her life beyond performing with her brother. “I think Karen felt a certain kind of connection with Barry,” says Lee Gurst. “I think she probably didn’t meet a lot of people who were musically on her level. Barry could be bright and interesting, and she was sweet and talented and probably somewhat naive – I say naive, but I think immature. I think Karen was young beyond her years, in a sense. I don’t believe Barry felt anything for her emotionally. I think she did. She never said anything; I wasn’t there for that. But I seem to recall she kind of liked him, and I know that, to Barry, she was just a beard for the evening.”

  It was a side of his friend’s character, albeit rarely seen, that Lee Gurst found upsetting. “I was a little mildly pissed that he was, in effect, using her for the short period of time,” says Gurst. “I don’t think Karen believed Barry was in love with her – I’m not saying she was that deluded. But I think she liked Barry and would have liked to have a friendship with him, and he could not have been less interested other than as someone to show up at a public event with.”

  By the time the Manilow tour made its final stop at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas in April 1977, everyone was feeling Barry’s angst. “My nerves were raw,” Barry later wrote. “During the last week in Vegas, I found myself crying or yelling at the drop of a hat … I was fed up with smiling and acting nice to radio men and their wives and to the record men and their girlfriends. I was fed up signing autographs. I wanted to be left alone and found it very difficult controlling my frazzled nerves.”

  Once again, whatever troubles Barry was having offstage were not reflected in his
onstage performances. The show, sometimes running as long as two and a half hours, was a non-stop frenzy of dazzle and flash, from the rhinestone studded costumes to the flashing lights and intricate choreography. And – oh, yes! – there was music, too!

  Wrote one reviewer, “Manilow’s appeal cuts right across the age barriers. Whether he is singing his own songs or other people’s, his performances always have the polish of sheer professionalism, not only in the singing but also in the arrangements and the whole presentation of the music. Ballads are undoubtedly one of Manilow’s strongest points … But Barry is a long way from being just a ballad singer – he is an all-around entertainer.”

  He was an “all-around entertainer”, and he always had been. From his earliest days playing with Jack Wilkins & The Jazz Partners back in Brooklyn, Barry knew what it took to reach an audience, to put a song across the stage with such force and feeling that it not only reached ears, but hearts as well. Not even the worst cynic could leave a Barry Manilow concert unmoved, if only by the sheer force of Manilow’s desire to be liked. I’m here for you, he seemed to say to each audience member, individually. There is nothing I won’t do to make you smile. Please, won’t you like me? And they did, by the thousands – liked, loved, adored. But, for Barry, it still wasn’t enough because, of course, the audience wasn’t the problem. Barry Manilow didn’t like Barry Manilow.

  Barry’s crisis of self was nothing new. For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? Jesus asked his disciples, according to the Bible. Barry Manilow had, it seemed, gained the whole world. But had he sold his soul to do it?

  Between shows at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas, Barry called Lee Gurst into his dressing room and said, “I have a surprise for you.” He handed Lee the envelope that contained the cover copy for the upcoming Live album, taken from recordings during the sold-out run at the Uris Theater in December and January. Lee, who, unbeknownst to Barry, had already seen the dedication, acted, as he says, “appropriately dumbstruck”. But he didn’t have to feign surprise at what was coming next.

  Barry expressed his sincere gratitude to Lee for his friendship over the years, and for everything Lee had done for him. It seemed a tender moment after a turbulent nine months. Then, says Lee, “at the end of that same conversation, Barry told me that he was letting everybody go and this was going to be the end. I love you, you’re fired.”

  Barry in the mid-Seventies, just as his career was taking off. (LFI)

  Bette Middler, on stage in the mid-Seventies. Not exactly a shy and retiring girl, her relationship with Barry was marked by mutual admiration and frequent acrimony, but by the Nineties (below) the barbs were forgotten. (LFI)

  Barry in the studio with (top) producer Ron Dante, and (below) with backing singers Lady Flash, left to right: Debra Byrd, Monica Burruss and Reparata. (Lee Gurst)

  Barry poses with Lady Flash by a massive Las Vegas billboard advertising a season at the MGM Grand. (Lee Gurst)

  Barry in the BBC Studios with British DJ Pete Murray on a 1978 visit to London. (Lee Gurst)

  Barry on stage with his friend, musical director, drummer and personal photographer Lee Gurst. (Lee Gurst)

  Barry with his close friend Linda Allen, in 1982. (Rex)

  Mr Music through the years. It is largely through his live appearances that Barry has maintained one of the most loyal fan followings in show business. Little has changed over the years, though his stage attire has become more conservative as each Vegas season and national tour rolls by. (Rex, LFI, Starfile, Bonnie Baisch)

  Barry, the showman of his generation, enters the new century. (Neil Genower/Rex)

  10 Including both releases of his first album, Barry Manilow (1973)/Barry Manilow I (1975).

  Chapter Twenty-four

  If Lee Gurst thought Barry might change his mind by the end of their run in Las Vegas, he was wrong.

  The last stop of the tour in Las Vegas would prove to be one of the few times that Barry had separated himself from his band by staying at a different location to the rest of the group. During the nearly two-week stay in Vegas, the band and Lady Flash stayed at a rented condo, while Barry stayed at a rented house some distance away. After the last Las Vegas performance of the two-week run, everyone with the tour threw a big party at the condo to celebrate the end of a long, wearying, but highly successful tour. Barry stopped by to join in the celebration, which lasted through the night.

  “I drove him home,” says Lee Gurst. “It was dawn, the sun was coming up.” Any hopes Lee had had for a change of heart on Barry’s part were dashed on the ride back to Barry’s rented house. “He said he’d pretty much decided, that’s it,” says Lee. There was no question about the talent and ability of the friends he’d been working with for the past three years. But, Barry told Lee, “I don’t want to work with friends any more. It’s too hard.”

  “It wasn’t an angry thing,” says Lee. “But it was just a knife in the gut, because I loved what I was doing.” During the ride back to Barry’s house, Lee tried to persuade his friend to change his mind and keep the team together. “I kept saying, ‘I don’t get it! This is working so well!’ And he said, ‘I don’t want to work with friends any more.’ That was the big thing, was I don’t want to work with friends.”

  In retrospect, Lee can see what might have been part of Barry’s dilemma. “I think it had gotten to the point where the concerns that he had shown all those years – he wouldn’t travel in any better style than the band, whatever he had the band had to have, he got limos, the band had to have limos – was no longer feasible. He watched out for everybody. And it had gotten to the point, I think, where being a star was beginning to occupy a lot of time and energy, and thinking about it, worrying about other people, or worrying about relationships interfered.”

  It did seem to be a theme in Barry’s life. If someone didn’t serve some sort of professional function, Barry seemed unlikely to want to maintain a connection. From Lee’s perspective, one worked to maintain intimate relationships, to maintain a balance between professional associations that may prove transient, and personal friendships that should span a lifetime. But, Lee observes, “Barry’s preference was to not have that kind of relationship. His were intimate in a business sense – he was always in control, he was always the boss. In terms of personal relationships, how many long-term intimate relationships has Barry had? Not that many. It’s just not something he’s comfortable with.”

  Barry himself seemed to acknowledge this fact many times over the years, usually stating that he simply didn’t have the time to nurture personal relationships. “I can handle today,” he said in a 1990 interview. “I can handle getting through this interview. But I can’t think about the next year. Futurising. That’s what it’s called. It’s a waste of time and energy. It’s just like you can’t live in the past. Now is where it’s at. You change and when that happens you begin to lose people who related to you when you were something else. So I’ve had to sever connections with people. It’s very painful but it’s the only way. I become the more human, humane Barry Manilow and say, Listen, this relationship is baloney now. Our relationship right now is based on old stuff. Unless we can deal with each other now – with these new things that I’m learning – then we’re finished. You can’t keep dragging me back to how we were because I can’t react that way any more. You either renegotiate or you split. If you hang on to that stuff, man, it’s going to drive you fucking crazy.” People from Barry’s past were, it seemed, simply shed as he passed them by. Or was it perhaps they who were moving on – marrying, having children, changing careers – while Barry stayed, motionless, in one very brightly lit place?

  Barry scoffed when a magazine interviewer suggested to him that “behind all the flamboyant success there is, in the flesh, one small, lonesome man.” In response, Barry simply smiled and said, “If this is ‘lonesome at the top’, I’ll take it.” But when it was announced in June 1978 that Barry had won a special Tony Award for his two
-week run at the Uris Theater six months previously, he lamented that “the only congratulatory telegram I got, from friends, family or anyone, was from Bette Midler.”

  At the end of the tour in April 1977, Lee Gurst and Reparata flew to Hawaii for a much-needed vacation, while Barry retreated to Miami to try to rest and try to gain some perspective on all that had happened in the preceding year. His friend Linda Allen came down to visit him, as did his songwriting partners Marty Panzer, with whom he wrote ‘Even Now’ and ‘I Was A Fool To Let You Go’, and Bruce Sussman and Jack Feldman, with whom Barry had begun composing ‘Copacabana’.

  But, according to Barry, he spent the majority of his time in Florida sitting quietly with his dog, staring at the ocean or watching television. He also wrote in his journal, and wrote letters to Lee Gurst and Reparata in Hawaii, expressing some regret at how things had ended. “And we would talk on the phone now and then,” says Gurst. “But it was very painful for me.” Lee acknowledges that the separation was also hard on Barry. “He was saying he missed the performing, he missed our being together.” But even this personal regret wasn’t without its professional overtones. “He wrote at one point he’d been listening to one of the last shows,” says Gurst, “and he just says, ‘Damn, we were good.’”

  While Barry enjoyed sitting still in Florida, his career continued to move forward on its own momentum. Barry Manilow Live, the double album dedicated to Lee Gurst, entered Billboard magazine’s Top 20 at number ten. Within six weeks it hit the number one spot on the list, and became Barry’s fourth platinum album to date. The arc of the album’s success marked a significant moment in pop history. From the time the album entered the chart on May 28 continuing for eight weeks straight, all five of Barry’s albums were chart-listed simultaneously, a feat previously accomplished by only Frank Sinatra and Johnny Mathis.

 

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