Tony Bennett: A Portrait Of The Artist
Billboard's 2006 Century Award Honoree
By Tamara Conniff

Tony Bennett is a rebel -- he has walked away from recording contracts to keep his integrity and won't sing a song he does not believe in. He adheres to the philosophy of art for art's sake-whether he's recording an album or painting a portrait.
"You have to be different," Bennett says. "If you do what everyone else is doing, you're just one of the crowd."
This year, Bennett marks several milestones. On Aug. 3, he turned 80. On Sept. 26, his own RPM Records and Columbia Records released "Tony Bennett:
Duets/An American Classic," which pairs the singer with an all-star artist roster for live duets of his best-loved songs.
And on Dec. 4, Bennett was presented with the Century Award, Billboard's highest honor for creative achievement, during the Billboard Music Awards at the MGM Grand Garden Arena in Las Vegas. Happy 80th birthday, Tony!
What does it mean to be honored with the Billboard Century Award?
It means everything. Billboard is the bible of the music business. I'm going to be 80 years old and to still have people interested in me is fantastic.
My 80th feels like a big payoff to me. It's really the best year I've ever had in show business. It's been a yearlong celebration.
Your career spans more than five decades. Does your success still shock you?
I've been very fortunate. I've always had sold-out [shows and albums] throughout my life. The public has been great to me. It was because of the thrust from Billboard magazine originally. Billboard always had me on the charts. It really institutionalized me when I was very young, in the '50s and right into the early '60s. That was enough of a thrust that everyone in America got to know me.
I was the first to kick off "The Merv Griffin Show," "The Steve Allen Show"
and Johnny Carson. And Rosemary Clooney and I would always be invited to "The Ed Sullivan Show" to get them the ratings. We were the first American Idols. Then Michael Jackson came along, and they gave it over to him.
What did it mean to you to record with these younger artists?
Years ago, the artists that were 10 years my elder were masters like [Frank] Sinatra, Dean Martin, Nat "King" Cole, Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong and Count Basie. That's what I grew up on. So these artists for the duets album were all new to me. Now all of a sudden, they are telling me I'm the master.
I couldn't believe it.
Did you leave Columbia Records in 1972 because you did not want to follow its pop formula?
Columbia was owned by CBS, and they had to bring the level of popular music down so it would sell immediately. I understood it. They needed to pay their employees every week and wanted records that sold right away.
But I had a different training. In the American Theatre Wing, they insisted on no compromise. When you go out into the world, you find out everyone is going to tell you, "You have to do this, or we can't book you." You just have to hold out and go for the best level you can go.
Mitch Miller [then head of A&R at Columbia] actually understood where I was coming from even though he was frustrated with me. I try to just never compromise. Not to be stubborn, but I don't like to insult the audience. I don't look down at the audience, I never do. I don't have a philosophy that says, "Well, I'm more intelligent than they are because I'm on the stage and they aren't."
People that think that way in the business are very strange to me. I'm not that greedy. I don't ever want to insult an audience. A mass audience is very intelligent. They are geniuses about whether something is good or not.
They will let you know right away. That's been my education. Being in front of audiences teaches you just what to leave out and what to put in a show.
What did you do when you left Columbia?
I went to England. The reputation was that my career dropped when I went there. But I went to paradise. I went to England and studied with Robert Farnon, who Sinatra called "the governor of all orchestrators." I went to paradise. The records didn't sell, but they'll last forever.
How did Bob Hope give you your stage name?
I was working at the Greenwich Village Inn. Pearl [Bailey] heard me rehearsing. She went to the boss and said, "If this boy isn't in my show, I'm not singing here next week." She put me on the show.
Bob Hope was at the Paramount Theater with Jane Russell and Les Brown's band. He came down to see Pearly May, and he got a big kick out of me because I was the only white kid in the show. He said, "Come over here, son.
What's your name?" I had a name that I thought would be catchy, and I said, "Joe Bari."
Bob said, "That's a city in Italy! What's your real name?" I told him Anthony Dominick Benedetto. He said, "That's going to be too long for the marquee. We'll call you Tony Bennett." He gave me my name. I was about 26 years old. He had no idea there'd be a singer one day called Engelbert Humperdinck.
Bob took me on the road and was wonderful to me. I went all over the country. He taught me how to perform for an audience. When I got back, Mitch Miller heard that Bob Hope had taken me on the road, and he signed me and Rosey Clooney to Columbia.
What was it like to be in New York at the birth of bebop?
That was the greatest. I didn't know who Charlie Parker was, and I went into Birdland with a friend of mine and we had front-row seats. Charlie Parker performed, and it was so percussive and something so different from anything I'd ever heard that I actually got up and ran out of the club and regurgitated in the street, I was so moved. I didn't know who he was. I'd never heard anything like it.