Tony Bennett Is 90
But let’s talk about me.
In 1995 I was working in an office in Rockefeller Center and the mayor at the time (I don’t want to talk about it) declared it “Tony Bennett Day” in town. A friend of mine called me (on a phone, that was hooked into the wall, from another phone that was hooked into the wall, because that was how we communicated in those days) to suggest that we go see the free mini-concert he was giving outside at Radio City Music Hall. As much as I loved Tony Bennett (and still do) I demurred, on my longstanding principle that doing anything that tourists will also do makes you somehow less authentic as a New Yorker. (I still secretly think this but I don’t let it drive my decisions as much anymore because now that nobody’s afraid of New York it’s almost impossible to avoid them.) “Come on,” she said, “how much longer will we have him around?” So we did it. It was fine. He did three or four songs, mostly from his new album and, of course, “San Francisco.” I’m glad I went. But also, I didn’t need to, because today Anthony Dominick Benedetto turns 90, and thank God for that. If everything works out the way it’s supposed to he’ll be around a lot longer than I will.