I Never Worked a Day in My Life
I feel that I have so much more to learn. Here I am at eighty-six, and it’s like starting all over again when I look at the knowledge that I’d like to acquire. I’m studying more now than I’ve ever studied in my life—and I have at least another ten to fifteen years before I accomplish what I want to.
I like challenges; I don’t want to be put on a shelf. I never think, Okay, I’ve done it all, so let me just retire. I could have done that twenty years ago. But work eliminates my headaches—it’s what keeps me sane. When you are constantly studying and expanding your mind, you’re never really finished. No matter what level you reach, there’s always the next level to aspire to.
As a young person, I realized that education was the way to go. My sister, Mary, who was a librarian, instilled that in me, so I became a perpetual student. I’ve just recently taken up sculpting. It’s like starting all over; it’s not like painting or photography. You have to learn the anatomy of the shoulder, the muscles, how they’re all connected and how they’re made. Studying anatomy makes you realize what a monument the human body is. So many people are unhappy with themselves physically, but when you realize what you’re walking around with anatomically, and that everyone has a different physique that makes them an individual, you learn to appreciate yours a lot more.
I am also always reading, which is the most wonderful thing anyone can do, because you constantly learn from the masters that way. When I first met the poet Allen Ginsberg, we became fast friends after we found out that we shared a love for William Blake. We spent hours just talking about his poems and the imagery he painted with words. I’ve connected with many people over books, all across the world.
You can’t plan life; life plans you. If you stay flexible and roll with it, you can survive. As the great cellist Pablo Casals told me, “At any given moment, you can learn.” Isn’t that wonderful? And on his deathbed, when Leonardo da Vinci said, “Does anybody ever finish anything?” he realized that there was a lot he still didn’t know. This coming from a man who is famous for his artistic and scientific genius.
Michelangelo also understood the concept of lifelong study. He started to paint the ceiling in the Sistine Chapel when he was thirty-three. He would set himself on top of the scaffolding, lying on his back with a candle mounted on his head so he could see in order to complete his masterpiece. Then he went back to paint the Last Judgment on the wall nearly thirty years later, at the age of sixty-one. After he finished what was probably his greatest achievement, he said, “I’m still learning.”
I’ve met artists who are so talented that it makes me shiver. They know so much, and being in their presence makes me realize how much I have yet to achieve. It keeps me even more committed to learning; to honing my performance. Aretha Franklin recently told me that she’s taking classical music lessons at Juilliard, which proves that the greats understand the importance of perpetual education and growth.
When the magnificent Japanese painter Hokusai was in his seventies, he said that he was just learning how to paint. That’s what I’m trying to do—I’m still looking to grow. Growth takes time. You start by figuring out your motivation—why you want to paint or sing, or do anything in life. And then you hone in on what you’re seeking and attempt to become skilled at what that is. Then you find ways to push the envelope further and challenge yourself.
My son and manager Danny, who has managed me for over thirty years now, came to me one day wanting me to try something new. “Why don’t you write a song?” he asked. “Well, I can’t compete with Cole Porter or Jerome Kern, you know; give me a break,” was my reply. But he wouldn’t let me off the hook so easily. “Why don’t you just try it?” he encouraged me. “We have something in mind.”
At first I felt skeptical about it, but then I received my inspiration. After I played a concert in Hawaii, I went to hear a wonderful jazz group perform. One of their songs in particular spoke to me. When I asked the piano player for its name, he told me it was called “Dark Eyes,” and was written by Django Reinhardt.
Reinhardt was the great musician and guitarist from Paris who played with Louis Armstrong. In fact, Willie Nelson recently told me that Reinhardt was his favorite guitar player of all time. When Willie was looking for a guitar, he wanted one with a similar sound to Reinhardt’s that he could play either onstage or in his hotel room. When he finally found the perfect guitar—which he named Trigger, by the way—he said that Django would have loved the instrument, and I had to agree. So when this pianist in Hawaii told me that this tune was by Reinhardt, it all seemed to come full circle.
I asked Danny to get hold of the family that owned the song, and they gave us an okay for me to write the lyrics, inspired by and dedicated to my wife, Susan Benedetto, which became “All for You.” And oddly enough, I wrote the lyrics in only an hour. I guess from interpreting songs for so many years, I know to stay away from trite material, and I thought it came out pretty well. Then when we were in Fresno, California, I performed it in front of an audience for the first time, and I was bowled over by their reaction; they went crazy for it. So at eighty-six, I now have my first songwriting credit.
Some singers’ voices start to wobble when they get older. I once asked Sinatra what he’d do to beat wobbling, and he said he wasn’t sure, but that if it ever started to happen to his voice, he’d just quit. To avoid that, I work every day doing my scales, and I really concentrate on holding my notes without vibrato. A dear friend and accomplished musician, Abe Katz, who was the first trumpet for the New York Philharmonic, told me that he holds notes with no vibrato, as that’s the best way to keep focused so the notes remain strong and clear. And that works for singing, too. If my voice does start to falter at some point, I guess I’ll just become a painter.
The late jazz vocalist Joe Williams told me, “It’s not that you want to sing; it’s that you have to sing.” And that is true—I have to do it. I can’t think of a nobler occupation than to try to make people forget their problems for an hour and a half. You lift up their spirits and give them a feeling of hope. That’s what a good psychiatrist does to help patients.
On the day of a show, I can’t wait to hit the stage. I prepare all day long to go out there, and I try to get right into the pocket of the public so they have a really great evening. I can’t think of a better way to live. I’m never tired of it; every night feels like a new experience, and I’ve never been bored a single moment when I’m performing.
I have no desire whatsoever to retire; if I’m lucky, I just want to get better as I get older. Through the years, you shed the idea of competition and the desire to be the best; instead, you just want to get better for yourself. And if you do what you’re passionate about, the material things will come. I never need a vacation because I have a passion to sing and paint, and I get to do both every day. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve never worked a day in my life.
I encourage everyone to find their passion. Work as hard as you can to follow your dreams; they will ultimately lead you to contentment in every aspect of your life. It is my goal at the end of each day to be able to lay my head on my pillow, knowing I’ve tried my best.
There are a lot of things I want to do. I’m blessed with the fact that I have my health, and my wish is for this to continue, so I can keep plugging away for a long time. Long ago, I realized that nobody beats death. You’re as good as your last breath. Duke Ellington said it best: “Number one: Don’t quit. Number two: Listen to number one.”
The Zen of Bennett
It’s good to accept challenges. Never let people put you in a box.
You can’t plan life; life plans you.
If you stay flexible and roll with the punches, you can survive.
The more you study, the more you learn what to leave out and what to keep in.
A lifelong habit of reading allows you to learn from the masters.
Shed the idea of competition, and of being the best. Instead, desire to improve only by being yourself.
If you follow your passion, you’ll never work a day in your life.
