By Kati Neiheisel***This February 4 would have been Barry Levitt‘s 77th birthday. Now, more than six years after his passing, the cabaret, jazz and musical theater worlds still reel in disbelief that the pianist, arranger, composer, conductor, orchestrator and “musical director at large” is no longer with us. Each year, on the day of his birth and on the day of his passing (September 21, 2017), family, friends, students, and colleagues reminisce and celebrate the life of “the Maestro.”
Often referred to as a mensch, it was easy to love Barry. Peter Napolitano, his songwriting partner of eight years posted: “When you worked with Barry, you felt like a kid again, playing with your best friend in the backyard, making your dreams come true.” That sentiment is shared by many, if not all, who worked with Barry. “He brought with him the love, the twinkle, the laughter, the giggle, the child,” says Dora Rubin, who first met Barry in the Catskills. At the time, Rubin was a teenager performing as Sami O’Brien, and Barry was one of her first accompanists. Years later, a chance reunion at an open mic hosted by Dana Lorge, led to them working together again. “He would let me fly around the room like a balloon releasing air. I could try anything, and he would say, ‘That’s good, do that!’ He allowed you to find yourself. If it wasn’t working, he would say, ‘Let’s try this…’ But the thing he left us all with is ‘do the work.’ He had an enduring love of ‘the work.’ It was ‘what is the song about?’ It was about giving, not getting.”
Barry Levitt was born on February 4, 1947, in Newark, New Jersey. As a kid, he studied the drums until his mother suggested he “try something nice, like a piano.” In high school, he was in the Juilliard Prep Division, learning as much as he could from his fellow musicians. He discovered jazz at fifteen and began playing gigs at sixteen. He worked hard to gain recognition as an accompanist, then made it his mission to learn how to create arrangements and conduct orchestras. When a new opportunity would arise, he’d take it, eventually becoming an expert in versatility.
In an episode of the radio show “Dave’s Gone By,” (October 2006), Barry discussed the highlights of his varied musical career with host Dave Lefkowitz. In 1974, during his two-year tenure as musical director of the Plaza Hotel’s famed Persian Room, he played for Julie Wilson, an artist he ranks high on his list of favorites. “There’s not a finer person. She’s a class act… and she always delivers on stage.” He found working as Ben Vereen’s musical director from 1976-1978, “one of the finest artistic experiences I ever had in my life. What he was doing in nightclub and cabaret was groundbreaking.”
Working on the original, Off-Broadway version of Little Shop of Horrors (1982), he said, “…was fun, it was free-wheeling. I got to play Ellen Greene’s last couple of performances, then for Faith Prince. It was her big shot in New York and she was wonderful. What a joy!” Working as musical director and arranger for Catskills on Broadway (1991) was the “best job I ever had in my life… with comedians I worked with when I was just starting out in the late 60s and early 70s: Freddy Roman, a mensch of the first degree; Mal Z. Lawrence, that man has been making me laugh for 35 years; and Marilyn Michaels, a helluva singer, an old pal, a dear friend.”
One of Barry’s greatest career opportunities was as musical director for 92nd Street Y’s Lyrics and Lyricists series, where he worked from 1981-1998, beside his friend and mentor Maurice Levine. After Levine’s death, Barry became artistic director from 1998-2003. He said, “At one point, it became apparent to me that, except for two major figures—Dorothy Fields and Carolyn Leigh—no one talked about the women songwriters. There was this huge void waiting to be tapped.” This revelation led to Her Song, conceived by Barry with his creative partner and wife, Brenda Levitt, who also wrote the script. With musical direction by Barry and direction by choreographer, dancer and daughter, Dori Levitt, it was a family affair! During its run at Birdland from 2006-2007, Her Song performers included Casey Erin Clark, Gabrielle Lee, Kate Manning, Kelly McCormick, Trisha Rapier, Gabrielle Stravelli, Heidi Weyhmueller, Carol Woods and Emma Zaks. As show producer and a proud member of Local 802 – AFM, Barry noted, “The cast are Equity at my insistence. I wanted them to be able to participate in the pension fund. And I’m proud to say that we are paying over Equity scale.” On March 20, 2018, an updated version of Her Song was performed at the Iridium, with all proceeds going to the Barry Levitt Foundation.
Barry encouraged singers to sit in with his quartet at the Jazz Brunch on Sundays at the Iridium, which ran from 2006-2009. He comment, “The Iridium is one of the best things that ever happened to me: it’s gotten me back to playing jazz piano again. It’s my style and what I do. Now I’m doing original music that I’ve written, as well as jazz compositions I haven’t played in years.” Also at the Iridium: one hundred performances with Terese Genecco and Her Little Big Band, led by Barry at the piano. Terese Genecco and Her Little Big Band won the MAC Show of the Year Award in 2012.
It was around this time that Barry met his musical soulmate, Gary Crawford. Crawford, in his early 70s, was an inexperienced but “natural” singer, seeking comfort in music after the death of his long-term partner. The spiritual and musical connection he found with the Maestro was life-changing for both. Levitt called their connection “bashert,”(destined’ or meant to be), while Crawford prefered “‘serendipity’ and continues to pinch himself.” Together, they produced Crawford’s 2013 MAC Award-winning show and CD, In Love with Love. In 2015, they performed Secret Dreams: Gary Crawford Sings the Barry Levitt Songbook. A review from BroadwayWorld noted, “Crawford brought so much heart and soul to the melodies of Barry Levitt that many of them sounded like familiar tunes…now [Levitt] should get his due as a first-rate songwriter.”
Barry is often sited as a highlight in others’ musical careers. Tom Hubbard remembers, “Years and years ago, Barry gave me my first break in New York when he was leading the band at the Supper Club in the Edison Hotel. It wasn’t my first gig in New York, but it was early on, and I hadn’t played with a band of that caliber before. I was subbing for Barry’s regular bassist at that time, Cameron Brown. Though I was in over my head, Barry continued to use me whenever Cameron couldn’t make it. So began a twenty-five-year association. He was a consummate musician, and it was always a pleasure to play with him.”
Adam Shapiro says, “I had been secretly working on becoming more of an arranger and musical notator but hadn’t shown anyone my work yet. On the closing night of Wednesday Night at the Iguana, Dana Lorge invited me to do a number. I decided to debut one of my arrangements.” Barry not only liked the arrangement, but he also announced to the crowd that Shapiro had “the arranger gene.” “Towards the end of his life, I was notating many of his pieces into a computer program. Of all of Barry’s sterling qualities, his handwriting was not one of them! I will love him and remember him forever and I will always hold in my mind the image of him standing backstage, waiting for me after I accepted my first MAC Award, with the proudest grin on his face like a Jewish Mr. Miyagi from the final frame of The Karate Kid.”
“Barry was my first musical director,” says Deb Berman. “His expertise and knowledge of material, styling and arranging let me grow so fast. He also had the ability to instill confidence in his singers. Two or three nights before my debut show, I had an anxiety attack from hell. He said to me, ‘When you were nine months pregnant, did you know what was going to happen in that delivery room? This is the same exact thing, but you’re delivering a show, and you have to do your best to make sure your ‘baby’ is delivered beautifully. Even though you were scared to deliver the baby, like you are now, you did it. And I have every confidence in the world that you’re going to do this, too.’ That calmed me down. I still think of that!” For her second show, Berman said, “I wanted a song that said, ‘it’s okay to wait, it will come to you.’ Peter Napolitano and Barry had started writing together so I asked Barry, ‘Could you please speak to Peter and write a song for me? I want it to be called ‘All in Good Time.’ And make it funny!’ The next thing you know, Peter and Barry showed up at my rehearsal and played it for me. It was called ‘All in Good Time.’ I was deliriously happy!”
With Sunny Leigh, Barry composed more than one hundred songs and recorded seven albums. She says, “While he could masterfully perform any genre, jazz was undeniably his musical calling. Yet, beyond his musical prowess, Barry’s heart was as golden as his talent. He unfailingly prioritized the vocalist, enabling them to convey their emotions through his exquisite accompaniment. His devotion to music was unwavering, as he once said, ‘I love people, but music is my first love; I live for music.’”
I was introduced to Barry when he provided accompaniment for a Marilyn Maye Master Class in early 2014. He invited me to attend his weekly workshops and I quickly became part of his musical family, attending his singers’ shows, singing with him at open mics and performing in one of his six Class Act shows at Don’t Tell Mama. “Barry was fun and knew how to work with every personality, but believe me, if you didn’t put the work in, he would call you on it,” says Debbee May. Susan Jeffries adds, “He was a charmingly funny man, a supreme artist at the piano, a treasured friend, a taskmaster of a teacher, and a man full of kindness. I loved it when he laughed, and I loved it when he cried.” And cry he did. In one of our last classes, after Gary Crawford sang a ballad, Barry paused at the piano. Through tears, he said: “I am so lucky to have all of you in my life.” The feeling was mutual.
The last time I saw Barry was at Open Mic at The Met, hosted by Deb Berman on Sunday, September 10, 2017. David Pearl was the accompanist that day, but Barry was there to accompany Dawn Derow on songs from her upcoming show, My Ship: Songs from 1941. Toward the end of the show, Barry decided he wanted to sing on stage, accompanied by Pearl. It was a beautiful moment. I was struck by his vulnerability as he stood in front of the piano instead of sitting behind it. I’m grateful I gave him a hug before he left that day. I never imagined it would be the last.
Nine days later, after a rehearsal and sound check at Laurie Beechman Theatre, before what was to be the opening night of Dawn Derow’s new show, the Maestro collapsed. Derow later wrote, “Musically, Barry touched many lives in his 70 years on this planet. He made music up until his very last moments… final moments we witnessed in that room on September 19, 2017. He held on for two days in the hospital and died on September 21—Rosh Hashanah—a truly Holy passing.”
For many years, Barry spent much of his time teaching and rehearsing at 853 Rehearsal Studios on Seventh Avenue, followed by 244 Rehearsal Studios on West 54th Street. Run by the Binder family, the studios were Barry’s home away from home. A portrait of Barry, painted by singer Andrea Bell Wolff, graced the walls of the West 54th Street location. Wolff says, “I had never painted before, but I was inspired by Barry!” This was also the location of Barry’s annual pot-luck holiday party with Barry on piano, John Burr or Boots Maleson on bass, Duane “Cook” Broadnax or Howie Gordon or David Silliman on drums and Jack Cavari on guitar. After his passing in 2017, Janice Hall kept the tradition alive, announcing: “This party is HAPPENING!” Stew Frimer kindly paid the bill for studio time, the singers chipped in to pay the musicians, and everyone brought food, drink and music. With Barry’s dear friend Hubert “Tex” Arnold on piano, John Miller on bass and Howie Gordon on drums, it was an evening of music, love and laughter, celebrating the life of our beloved Barry.
A photo of Barry in the lobby at 244 Rehearsal Studios, taken by manager Daryl Glenn, has a special place at the reception desk in their new space on West 65th Street. Now known as PianoPiano Studios, Glenn believes that Barry haunts the place. He says, “It started when the elevator kept opening and no one would be there. It’s Barry, of course! He would have loved it here.”