On the Wednesday before our scheduled appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show, the band was told to assemble at Dick Charles Recording Studios, just two blocks east of The Brill Building, to lay down instrumental tracks for the three songs we were going to perform Sunday evening. The show’s producers opted for a hybrid presentation of the Hank & Honey Hutch sound. They usually preferred live performances or lip-syncing but, for aesthetic reasons, they wanted musical acts like ours to be visually compelling on the screen. Unlike your average rock band, we dressed to kill while we performed. Tuxedos for the men, gowns for the women (including me, hee hee). They were going to play the pre-recorded instrumental track over the sound system in the theater. This meant bandmembers would be miming playing their instruments while we singers would be picked up by live microphones suspended just a few feet out of camera range.

Since Honey Hutch and Hank’s Honeys weren’t needed for this session, they were given the day off. I, on the other hand, was new to this whole recording thing and wanted to observe how a real pro like Billy Schechter conducted a recording date. And I wanted to be there for Bobby. I’m sure he might be a little nervous. My being there would be reassuring. Don’t you think?

I arrived about a half hour before the session was slated to begin and found Billy in the control booth, talking to Carole and Gerry. When Billy saw me, he waved me into the room. I greeted and hugged all three in succession.

“Are you guys here to watch us record the tracks for Sunday?” I asked.

“No, we had no idea Billy was doing this session today. We just finished our demo for that Aretha Franklin song that Jerry Wexler wanted. In fact, it’s kind of kismet that you show up right when we were about to have Billy listen to it. He’s got million-dollar ears, you know.”

“Lot of good it does me. You write your best stuff for Jerry Wexler and Don Kirshner nowadays. I don’t get invited to the dance anymore.”

“We thought of you when we wrote this, Shuggie,” Gerry said as he turned to me. He pushed play on the tape machine, and we heard Carole singing “(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman.”

When the song ended, I hid my face in Billy’s shoulder. I’m afraid I got his nice pinstripe vest a little wet. He gently patted my back. Carole placed her hand on my shoulder. “Billy told us about the other day with your dad. You should be happy he’s not standing in your way.”

“It’s just for the summer. He wants me to go back to school in September. As a boy!” The tears cascaded down my cheeks as I choked back whimpers, trying to speak. “My life is over if I have to do that!”

“Billy told us he knows some doctors who could help you sort this out.”

“Well, I don’t know them personally. I’ve had to learn about what doctors are saying about…about girls like Shuggie. Because of what my sister went through. But there are some places that are sympathetic to your situation. It might involve some therapy…”

“I’m not crazy. I don’t need a shrink. Anyway, Dad would never pay for it. Even if he had the money.”

“I really think you’d benefit from some professional care. I don’t need to tell you this is a decision that will affect you as long as you live. You need to be certain, absolutely certain this is your path—”

“I am. I’m sure of it. I don’t care what anyone says. I should’ve been raised as a girl. Stupid doctors were wrong in the first place!”

“Shuggie, if you trust me, I’ll help you get the guidance you need. I wasn’t there to help my sister, but I’ll be there for you. Do you believe me?”

“Yes, Billy. I trust you. But where will my Dad get the money?”

“If you’re as talented as I think you are, the money will not be a problem. But let’s talk about this some more later this summer. Right now, you need to prepare for an appearance on national television and a two-month concert tour with the hottest musical act on the charts!” I hugged Billy even tighter, I was so happy someone believed in me so much that they would go so far to help me realize my dream of becoming the woman I’ve always felt I am.

I heard the shuffling of feet. The band was entering the studio. As they set about finding a chair and opening their instrument cases, I saw Bobby standing stockstill staring into the control booth…at Billy and me embracing. The look on his face was a mixture of confusion and disappointment. I quickly moved away from Billy, who turned, saw Bobby, and just waved nonchalantly.

They took a break after recording several takes of the first number, “Heaven Must Have Sent You.” I caught up to Bobby at the windows overlooking Seventh Avenue. I handed him a cup of coffee from the vending machine in the hall outside the studio.

“This is awful!”

“I got it from the vending machine. Mine tastes okay,” I said, holding up my cup.

“No, not the coffee. Throwing yourself at Billy like that. In front of everyone too.”

“I wasn’t ‘throwing’ myself at Billy. I was just grateful that he’s willing to help me get professional help for my situation. You know, he totally believes in me. More than I can say for a lot of people.”

“You think he’s just being altruistic? Seems to me he’s got a thing for you. If you know what I mean.”

“No, silly…wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

“Shuggie, don’t get carried away with this. You’re in no position to be objective about other people’s motives. For all we know, Billy’s a…a deviant,” he whispered.

“Who’s a deviant?” asked Hank Hutch as he walked by us. It was time to go back into the studio.

“Nobody you’d know, Hank. We were talking about a kid we knew in school.”

“Well, as long as it’s not somebody in this band…bad enough we’ll be a black group playing in mostly white venues on this tour. Had a drummer get busted for weed last year. And then there was a trumpet player did a year in the pen for solicitation in St. Louis. Musicians. Man! I trust Billy. He’s put me onto some straight arrows. Like you, Bobby. And you too, Shuggie. Ha ha. Let’s go. Get this session over with.”

On Friday afternoon, we had a walk-through rehearsal at CBS’ Studio 50 located on the corner of 53rd Street and Broadway. It had been The Hammerstein Theater until the fifties when CBS converted it into a television studio. The production crew worked out the blocking for our two segments of the show: we would perform two songs in the first half hour and return for a final song in the second half hour. They had us in and out of there within 20 minutes. We would return for the dress rehearsal on Sunday afternoon before a live audience. We never saw the other guest performers for Sunday’s show: Petula Clark, Stiller & Meara, Topo Gigio, The Berasino Chimps, and Richard Pryor. Still, to stand on that stage where everyone from Elvis Presley to The Beatles had made their national TV debuts was a humbling experience. Not wanting to waste the whole afternoon, Billy shepherded us back to 1650 Broadway where we put in another couple of hours of rehearsal.

Bobby and I were standing on the corner of 50th Street and Broadway, deciding where to have dinner before catching a movie, when Billy ambled toward us.

“Kids, go home and put on some nice duds. You’re my plus two tonight at the Café Carlyle. Barbra Streisand’s doing a private concert for friends in the business. Warm up for her tour next month.”

“You know Barbra?” I asked, in awe.

“We’re buds. Went to Erasmus High in Brooklyn together. Me, Barbra, and Neil Diamond.”

“Do we have time to go home and change?” Bobby asked.

“Show up at 9. Just give the maître d my name. He’ll show you to my table. By the way, take a cab…on me.” He handed Bobby a crisp hundred dollar bill and walked off toward the parking lot.

It was 10 of 9 when we saw Billy waving to us from his corner table in the Café Carlyle. Bobby was wearing his new Pierre Cardin double-breasted suit and I had chosen to wear Connie’s Jackie Kennedy faux Chanel skirt suit. Technically, Connie rented the outfit to me, according to her. Good luck her ever collecting the rental charge, ha ha. Billy chivalrously pulled my chair out as I swept my skirt under me in the most ladylike manner. Bobby just sat down like a sack of cement mix.

“Hey, look! Isn’t that Nancy Sinatra? And there’s Wayne Newton! And…”

“Bobby, pipe down. Let’s not act like rubes, okay? Show doesn’t start until 10. Order yourself some grub. Today’s catch is swordfish.” The mention of seafood caused me to dry heave. “Are you alright, Shuggie?”

“She’s kind of allergic to seafood, Billy.”

“Really? Sorry, I didn’t know.”

“I’m okay. They don’t serve pizza here, do they?”

Looking at the menu, Bobby excitedly pointed out, “Hey, they’ve got burgers here. Prime beef, shallot confit, crispy onions, lettuce, tomato, smoked remoulade sauce, and shoestring fries. With house-made brioche. $20?!”

“This is high-class shit, Bobby. You’ll want to get used to it if your career takes off. You too Shuggie. I mean, look at me. A poor Jewish kid from Flatbush. My parents didn’t buy a TV until my junior year in high school. 1959 already.”

Bobby and I rather enjoyed our expensive burgers. Billy had the Filet Mignon. Dessert was New York Cheesecake and cappuccino. Billy ordered a bottle of Hennessy XO cognac which he shared with Bobby. I sneaked a taste from Bobby’s glass. I didn’t like it. I guess I’ll never be an alcoholic at this rate.

Barbra Streisand came out promptly at 10, accompanied by a quartet comprised of piano, acoustic bass, alto sax, and drums. I couldn’t believe she was 3 months pregnant but that’s what all the papers said. Her voice was magnificent as she stormed through an abbreviated setlist of her most popular songs. Her 4-city tour starting in July at Newport was entitled “An Evening with Barbra Streisand” and was purported to be two solid hours with a brief intermission after the first hour. Of course, it was totally sold out. Of all the wonderful tunes that night, the one whose lyrics had the most impact for me was "If You Were the Only Girl In the World.”

As the song wafted through my thoughts and emotions, I looked toward Bobby. But he was nodding off, the cognac having its way with him. Then I realized Billy was staring at me. I nervously smiled and he smiled back. It occurred to me maybe Bobby had a point about Billy’s interest in me. Or maybe I was proxy for the sister he hadn’t been present to support a decade ago. Whatever it was, his smile lingered even after I broke off eye contact.

Afterwards, Billy introduced us to Barbara and her husband Elliot Gould, the actor. She was very warm to Billy and they exchanged music business gossip while her husband looked me over, almost leeringly. I was occupied with keeping Bobby standing up as he tended to slump over when I didn’t pinch his arm through his suit sleeve. Neither Bobby nor I had much to say to whomever Billy introduced us to. I was too starstruck and Bobby was too blotto. Finally, as we were leaving, Elliot took Billy aside for a moment. I could hear them since they had to almost shout above the din.

“Billy boy, I like your latest jailbait…”

“She’s 17 and I’m mentoring her. There’s no hanky panky going on, buddy.”

“Okay, okay. That’s your story and you’re sticking to it. I get it. She looks like she’s glued to that young schmuck though. Get him a gig in the Catskills. Eh?”

Billy helped me drag Bobby out of the café. As he tried to hail a cab heading downtown, he turned to me. “You heard that? He’s a comedian. Don’t take him seriously. We’re not friends. He’s married to Barbra, that’s how we know each other. He’s a flake.”

“You wouldn’t send Bobby away, would you?”

“What? Why would I do that? I love Bobby. Kid’s got a lot of talent. I see big things for him. And you.”

We dropped Bobby off at his Lower East Side crash pad and had to practically haul him up 3 floors between the two of us. This was as close to being a pallbearer as I’d ever care to be. We handed him off to our bass player whose wife didn’t appear to be too happy to be disturbed at that late hour. Back in the cab, we made it to my sister’s building in five minutes. Before I turned the handle to open the car door, Billy planted a kiss on my cheek and said good night. I don’t really know why but I quickly returned his kiss, again on the cheek. Blushing, I ran to the entrance and didn’t look back.