Margaret Whiting, 1924 - 2011

Years ago, in the early 70s, there was a club called Reno Sweeney's in New York City. The place had "it" - the indefineable quality that makes a room the room for an artist to play and for an audience to frequent. The Manhattan Transfer was there for an extended run, and I think it was that gig, more than any other, that pushed us into a more sparkling level of success in New York.

Aided by a nasty review in The Village Voice, in which Robert Christgau called us racists because we were singing material originally recorded by black artists, the audience turnout was terrific. Everyone wanted to see what the fuss was about.

One night, my father (then a good-looking man in his mid-40s), was at the show. During the first set, he noticed Margaret Whiting, his favorite singer, sitting in the audience. In the break, he went over to her table, and politely introduced himself. She smiled, and listened while he told her of his admiration for her singing. He was a great fan, and though he had spent time with high-level government officials and heads of corporations and unions, this was different. Miss Whiting was a star, and I think he was just a little dazzled. When he told her that he was at Reno's to hear his daughter sing. Margaret asked, "which one is your daughter?", and he replied, The redhead."

"Oh!" she said, "She's very good."

Up to this point, my folks had been worried about my taking up show business. My grandfather was a professional singer, and so they knew it can be a hard and unpredictable life. I was constantly encouraged to consider a more conventional career (Dad opined that I was argumentative enough to be a good lawyer).

But after that night, when Margaret Whiting told him she thought I was good, there was a subtle shift in his attitude. I think that night marked the beginning of my father's acceptance of my choice to be a performer. I owe some of that to Margaret.

Miss Whiting died today, at 86. She will be missed by all who love straightforward, superb, honest singing, and by my dad, who is still a fan.