the problems of Asiatic Petroleum, but I did care about having enough money to pay the rent.
Off I went to Boston, where Erwin Straus, the son of the operetta composer Oscar Straus, had come up with the idea of putting together a revue of songs dedicated to a single musical-theater composer. He was to be the musical director and pianist, and I was one of four singers in the cast of two women and two men. What we did were âtab showsâ (short âtabloidâ performances) based on the work of a different composer each time: Richard Rodgers, Jerome Kern, George Gershwin, Cole Porter, Irving Berlin. These types of revues are more common nowâBroadway shows have been built around the catalogues of Duke Ellington ( Sophisticated Ladies ) and Johnny Mercer ( Dream )âbut it was a fresh idea at the time, and I really lucked out. These shows were allbased on material for which I was particularly well suited. The first show centered on the work of Jerome Kern, and I realized that because his songs were all written for musicals, the format allowed me to perform them as if in a miniâmusical comedy, rather than just sing in the usual nightclub style. Audiences loved the shows, which meant that the owners loved the shows. When it became clear that the run would last, I placed a call to Asiatic Petroleum: âIâm afraid I wonât be coming back.â Someone else could check those numbersâand play hooky at the Museum of Modern Art. I was now officially working in show business!
I stayed in Boston for nine very happy months doing these shows, and without really knowing it I was receiving extremely valuable experience. I was learning how to connect with an audience, and in the process was singing the very best material ever written for musical theater. With only four of us in each show, we all had a chance to shine. I even received my first, if slightly generic, notice in Variety : âBarbara Cook proves an actress as well as a singer and dancer.â Not exactly an ecstatic rave, but I was the first performer mentioned, and it was a nice start. More meaningful to me were the enthusiastic responses from the audiences and my castmates, all of which gave me some much-needed confidence. With each successive revue, I began stretching my range, singing songs it would never have occurred to me to try, like Ethel Mermanâs songs from Annie Get Your Gun . I started to tell myself: âYou could really have a shot at this.â I listen back now to some of my early singing, and I did not know how good I was. Good in the sense of having a really pretty sound. Not put-together yet, but really sweet, a very pretty voice. I started to acquire the glimmer of a personal styleâan individual way of phrasing.
While in Boston I lived in the Charlotte Cushman Club.Charlotte Cushman was the first American actress to achieve international renown, at a time when acting was looked upon as a somewhat dubious profession for a young lady. The Cushman Clubs that existed in various cities had been founded so that touring actresses would have somewhere safe and respectable to stay when they were performing in that town. The rooms were tiny, but there was a communal kitchen. Boston was, of course, a big tryout town at this time, so the club was full of women in shows. I remember that the actresses sort of looked down on those of us who werenât in the legitimate theater: âWe are of the theater , and youâre just singing in a club .â
When the show at the Darbury eventually closed I hung on in Boston for a little while; I had quit my job in New York, after all, and had nothing solid waiting back in Manhattan. During the run in Boston Iâd also had my first television experience when Tommy OâNeal and I were asked to perform on a variety show for WBZ television. Tommy played piano and I sang, and we also shared a few duets. Fear gripped me again at the thought of this entirely new medium,