As wonderful as being in the entertainment world can be, the trials and tribulations of becoming successful and working endless hours can take their toll on a person. It all seems so glamorous, but there is a lot of waiting around. I recall a time when I appeared with Sinatra, and the two of us were escorted down the service elevator and through the back corridors of the hotel ballroom where we were performing. Just as we approached the doors to the stage, Frank turned to me and said, “Hey, Tone, do you realize how many kitchens we’ve walked through?” We both just looked at each other and chuckled. So it’s not all wine and roses.
I’m not complaining, mind you; it comes with the territory. But sometimes the general public doesn’t understand this. Trying to do the important things, like maintaining a semblance of family life can become quite a challenge; the travel alone can keep you from doing that.
But even in the lowest moments of my life, I’ve always felt, This too shall pass, and then things will get better. The first devastating event in my life was the death of my father. My dad was a warm, sensitive man, full of love for his family. I can still vividly recall looking into his dark, expressive eyes as I fell asleep while cradled in his strong arms.
Soon after my older brother, John, was born, my father became ill. By the time I was one, my dad’s health prevented him from being able to work at all. Doctors said he had a weak heart as a result of having rheumatic fever as a child, but they couldn’t help him back then. His body started to ache so badly at night that he couldn’t stand having the covers touching his skin. My father would become so congested that he couldn’t breathe, and he went in and out of the hospital on Governors Island, often being taken there in the middle of the night. To a young child, this was incredibly confusing. One night when he had an attack, my mother began to panic. Everyone was running around, and he was taken to the hospital again. There he contracted pneumonia on top of congestive heart failure, and he fell semiconscious.
I visited him in the hospital every day, holding his hand tightly and praying that he would recover. After several days he seemed better, and the doctors said he’d be able to come home with us soon. The next morning we got his bedroom ready and went to the hospital to bring him home. The doctor came out to the waiting room, and to our complete shock, told us that my father had died in the night.
We were just so heartbroken; I couldn’t believe he was gone. That evening the whole family came to the apartment, and in her despair, a family member told John and me that we had killed our father. I was horrified; I had just lost my dad, and now I had been told it was my fault. I don’t think my mother even knew this had been said to us. The awful idea that I had killed my father was planted in my mind, and this caused me extreme pain for quite a while afterward.
After Dad’s funeral, my uncle Dominick decided to bring me to live with him and his wife in Pyrites, a small town in upstate New York, so my mother would have one less child to look after. I assumed my mom would never go for this, but in her anguish, she agreed, and I was sent away with them.
My uncle and aunt probably meant well, but they didn’t have children of their own and they didn’t know how to deal with a child. They owned a grocery store and also farmed, and since it was summer and I wasn’t in school, I spent the day helping out with the chores. One day my aunt asked me to sing to her while she was preparing food in the kitchen, so I began singing. My uncle came in and yelled at me for not working, and after that, he made me sleep on the floor.
I was miserable there and missed my family something awful. I stayed in Pyrites for the whole school year before I got to return to my mom and siblings, and, boy, was I glad to get back home. They had moved to a smaller apartment, and my mother was still working all day long and bringing extra sewing home at night, but at least I was in familiar surroundings again with people who loved me.
Somehow I got through that period. And when I look back on it, I realize that the lesson I learned through it all was how to cope with loneliness. I used that skill throughout my life. Although I love traveling around the world, most people don’t realize how lonely it can be out there. I learned how to deal with “the blues” for the first time upstate, in Pyrites.
Christmas of 1965 was another extremely low point in my life. My career was thriving, but my marriage of thirteen years to Patricia, the mother of my two boys, was falling apart. We were separated, and I spent Christmas and New Year’s in a lonely hotel room in New York City. I was absolutely miserable about not being able to see my sons.
I was all alone in my hotel room, feeling very blue. Suddenly I heard glorious music. I got out of bed and checked the television to see if I’d left it on, but it was turned off. Then I realized that the noise was emanating from the hallway. I opened the door, and standing there was an entire choir, singing “On a Clear Day, You Can See Forever.” It’s a moment I will never forget.
Duke Ellington was giving a sacred music concert at the Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church, but I hadn’t been able to muster the energy to go to it. My friend Louis Bellson had told Duke that I was feeling down, and he’d sent the choir over to cheer me up. It was one of the most moving gifts I’ve ever received. That night was as bad as it gets, but this wonderful gesture revived my spirits, no matter how hard things were for me at that moment.
This period of my life was particularly challenging. Trouble really started to brew for me and my recording career in 1966, when the new head of Columbia Records, former lawyer Clive Davis, became president of the label. As I mentioned earlier, he began to make all of the artists, no matter what their background, do rock and roll songs. It was a difficult time for all of the traditional singers, and by 1967, I realized that the company was not looking after my best interests.
Clive sat me down and told me that the only way he’d promote me was if I would record some contemporary music. I didn’t have a problem doing songs that were hits, as long as they were good ones and I could interpret them my way. But Clive wasn’t content with that, and our standoff continued. I asked Count Basie what he thought I should do. Basie told me in his wise way, “Why change an apple?” So I stuck with what made sense for me.
By 1968, it seemed everything was going down the drain. My divorce was still dragging on. My mother had become very ill. Whenever I went to visit her, I thought it might be the last time I’d ever see her. Then, too, there was the ongoing dispute with Columbia Records.
Finally I caved under the pressure from Davis and agreed to do an album called Tony Sings the Great Hits of Today. That’s when I literally regurgitated before the first recording session, I was so upset about it. Davis pushed the album so that it sold well, and of course then he wanted me to do another, but I couldn’t go through with it.
One day after an argument with Clive and his buddies, on my way out of the office I heard one of them say, “We have to get rid of that wop!” That was the final blow; I told them I wanted out. After long negotiations, we agreed that I’d give them two more records, produced by myself, and then I would be free. After twenty-two years, I decided to take a break from Columbia Records. I knew I had to pick myself up and get ready to start all over again.
It was during these years that Lena Horne and I went on tour together, and she was a great inspiration to me. She had recently lost three important men in her life—her father, her son, and also her husband of twenty years. But even after enduring that, she was the most professional artist I’d ever worked with. She always gave her all, even when she was just rehearsing. I was very impressed with her grit. By example, she taught me a lot about discipline and simply carrying on, even when you don’t think you’ll get your head above water.
One of the very worst events of my entire life was Thanksgiving night, 1977, when I found out that my mother had died. I was just about to go onstage at the Fairmont Hotel in San Francisco when I heard the news. I just burst through the door of the hotel and when I got outside, I ran for miles. My mom had been the one person in my life who kept me grounded. I thought I would never get over her death.
On top of my grief over my mother, my second wife, Sandra, and I were not getting along at all. And for the first time ever, I wasn’t signed with a record label. I had started an independent record company, Improv Records, but it had folded earlier that year, and it was badly in debt. I had fallen behind in my taxes, and the IRS wanted payment. I began to experience severe bouts of depression.
One night I overindulged in drugs and passed out in the bathtub. I could have died, and after that, I realized I had to get my life in order. I recalled the great business advice that my son Danny had always given me, and asked if he and my other son, Dae, would want to come to the West Coast to help me figure things out. They agreed, and arrived the next day.
I told them what was happening, and they said they would look into things. Back in New York, they met with my accountant, and Danny organized all the facts and figures. As I described earlier, he explained to me that I was spending too much, both on the road and personally. He worked out a plan to pay back the IRS, and a new budget for us to stick to. Soon thereafter Sandra and I separated. I moved back to Manhattan, got a one-bedroom apartment, and lived much more frugally than before.
From such a low point, Danny helped me reinvigorate my career. When I look back, even though I struggled to keep my integrity, it has really paid off to stick to my guns. Believe me when I say I’m speaking from experience that you can recover from even the bleakest moments in your life if you simply persevere and believe that you can.
The Zen of Bennett
This too shall pass. Even in the lowest times, realize that things will get better.
The difficult times make you stronger. From failure you can correct yourself and become a better human being.
You can recover from even the bleakest moments if you simply persevere and believe that you can.
