[ PHOTO GALLERY OF EILEEN BARTON'S CAREER ]

EILEEN BARTON

NOTE: Eileen Barton generally reported her age as five years younger than she actually was (her birth certificate clearl indicates 1924). When she passed away - based on a false birth year of 1929, newspapers indicated Eileen was 76. She was actually 81. While dates have been verified below, her age would be different from what she reported in this interview.

One could say Eileen Barton was destined to perform; before she was born, Eileen Barton was already on stage. "My parents played The Palace Theater in New York when mother was seven months pregnant with me. So I was on stage before I was born; I was looking at the boards before I even came out."

Eileen Phyllis Barton was born in Brooklyn, New York, on November 24, 1929. Her parents, Ben and Elsie Barton, were vaudeville performers billed as Ben Barton and His Californian Collegiates (and similar variations). During our September 2005 phone interview, Eileen described some of the Bartons' flash acts she witnessed from the wings (in vaudeville jargon, a "flash act" is a large and spectacular act, often musical with beautiful girls, requiring extensive costumes, scenery or special effects):

Dad had a lot of guys and girls working for him. They came on carrying megaphones, wearing sweaters with big letters sewn on, very collegiate. Sometimes they'd have a guy with oars in a rowboat, singing as he "paddled" across stage. Dad led the band and mother sang and danced and played "hot" fiddle, like Joe Venuti. I used to sit in the wings and watch her out there.

My parents were playing a theater in Kansas City and Goodman came back to interview them. While he was interviewing them in the green room, I got up and sat on the piano and started to sing; they couldn't keep me off the piano. So Mr. Ace dared my father to put me on in the next show. And daddy took the dare; he put me on. I went out in the middle and sang "Ain't Misbehavin'." It broke the joint up and they kept me in the act from then on. After a while, they couldn't get booked without me.

At three and a half years old, Eileen left her parents' act and was playing The Palace again, this time as a member of Ted Healy's routine (Healy was a hugely popular vaudevillian who formed The Three Stooges, also on the bill).

They had to get a special permit for me because you weren't allowed to sing or dance in New York unless you were 16. Even then they wouldn't let me sing, so I did a comedy turn with Ted. He was a big comic then, like a Bob Hope. I remember once Ted came out on stage, and he'd been drinking--he liked his drink--and when I came out, he looks at me and says "Who are you? What are you doing kid, get outta here!" He didn't recognize me, didn't know who the hell I was. I tugged on his coattails and he bent down and I whispered the routine in his ear so he'd remember me. I'm maybe four years old!

By six years old, Eileen appeared on WCAU radio's Children's Hour, sponsored by Horn & Hardart (the Philadelphia/New York chain famous for its coin-operated "automat" cafeterias). She was also a featured child performer on the Eddie Cantor and Rudy Vallee radio shows. At the age of seven, Eileen played Milton Berle's "nemesis" on the Community Sing radio program for one year, cast as "Jolly Gillette."

This was Milton's first big show. The sponsor was Gillette and I played the sponsor's "daughter." I'd come out and heckle Milton until he'd say something like "Is that one of your father's jokes?" and I'd come back with "Yeah, what are you--one of your mother's?" That sort of thing. And then I'd say, "I want to sing." He'd say, "Jolly, you can't sing, you can't." And I'd say it again and he'd say, "No!" And finally I'd say, in a sing-song voice, "My daddy's the sponsor." And he'd finally say, "All right, Jolly, sing." And I'd go into my song, whatever was hot on the hit parade.

After Community Sing, eight year old Eileen had her own daily radio program on WMCA in New York called Arnold's Dinner Club, where she would plug songs, singing five or six songs per show. She was also a radio actress on programs like NBC's Death Valley Days:

One week they featured me, believe it or not, as "cockeyed Charlie Pankers, the Toughest Stagecoach Driver in the West." I did the voice of Charlie from the age of 8 to 26; they got an older person to do the older voice of Charlie. And in the story, when Charlie died, you found out "he" had been a woman in drag all those years! It was supposed to be a true story.

Eileen Barton took a break at age eleven but the hiatus didn't last long. In mid-1944, not yet 15 years old, Eileen made her nightclub comeback at Slapsie Maxie's nightclub in Hollywood and she returned to radio. It was thanks to a guest turn on the Chesterfield-sponsored Johnny Mercer's Music Shop that Eileen was chosen from 40 singers to be the supporting vocalist on Sinatra's new radio show:

Johnny had a guest star every week and I was the guest one week. At the same time, a big ad agency, McCann-Erickson, was playing records of folks to audition for this new show with Frank. They played my record from Music Shop and picked me and I got the show. And I had no idea I was even being considered. I called my father and said, "I got the show," and he said, "What show? You going to be with Andy Russell?" I said, "Not Andy Russell, I got the show with Frank!" My daddy knew Frank--they had started Barton Music together, which published several hits Sinatra recorded.

My father had sent me to California where I stayed with Gloria Delson, a girl I went to school with. It was great, we would do housework on Saturdays together--wash dishes, do the vacuuming--stuff like that. I never did that stuff before, you know, because I was raised in hotel rooms. Gloria lived with her parents and sister, Audrey, and they were all terrific, I loved them. I was living there when I got the Sinatra show and I would take Gloria wherever I went. She was a beautiful girl and I took her over to Frank's house all the time; where she met Sammy Cahn. They fell in love and she married Sammy Cahn, and they subsequently had two beautiful children, Steve and Laurie.

To the instant envy of every bobbysoxer in the nation, Eileen debuted on Frank Sinatra In Person on August 16, 1944, a Wednesday night, at 9:00 p.m. The CBS show broadcast from Hollywood and Eileen and Frank were backed by an orchestra conducted by Alex Stordahl. What was it like, working alongside "The Voice" (as Sinatra was tagged then)?

It's like working with God; are you kidding? It was the epitome of my life. The greatest singer and the most magnetic personality; I thought he was the greatest person ever lived. Now when I was nine, I thought the same about Milton Berle. But Frank, he was different.

And I was absolutely terrified; every time he walked in the room, I was frozen with fear. When I did duets with him every week, I'd see him looking at me with those blues eyes of his and I'd think "Oh my God, he thinks I'm awful." But I managed to sing. I idolized him. But obviously he liked, he kept me on the show for a full year.

Frank took his voice seriously, I'd see him before a show, vocalizing, rehearsing. He even sent me to his voice teacher, John Quinlan--I went once. John went "yaaaa, yeeee," all those vowels and scales. He was nice, but I didn't go back; I figured if I had a nice dinner, that would open my throat. I took it a little easier than Frank, but I admired his seriousness.

Eileen left the show the next year (thanking Frank publicly with an ad in Billboard magazine) but continued in radio, hosting her own Saturday morning NBC show, Teen Timers, and appearing on the Philco Radio Hour, the Gloria Swanson Show and stagemate Milton Berle's Let Yourself Go. She also did some television, appearing as Lanny Ross's "girlfriend" on 1948's The Swift Show, where live music and light comedy were featured.

Eileen's first recording was as vocalist on "Would You Believe Me?" (Capitol 402) with the orchestra of Lyle "Skitch" Henderson. Her appearance was an accident, she was just going to the beach:

I was walking down Vine Street to Barton Music. I was just stopping in to say hello, my bathing suit over my arm. Skitch ran out of the recording studio and said, "Eileen, Eileen, where are you going?" His singer, Eileen Wilson I think, hadn't shown. So he asked, "Can you do this?" and I said, "Sure." They played the song for me because I didn't read music, I learned it, sang it, and they said "thanks" and I said "bye." I put my bathing suit back over my arm and went on to the beach. That's how I recorded my first song.

In late 1949, Ms. Barton signed to the National label, a New York City-based independent specializing in rhythm and blues artists (The Ravens, Joe Turner, etc.). In a three hour session, Eileen cut four tunes, one of which was the novelty tune "If I Knew You Were Comin', I'd've Baked A Cake" (National 9103).

I was playing a theater and Al Trace and his band were on the date. He kept playing this cockamamie song and asked, "I've got a record date, will you do it?" But I thought it was a terrible song, so I turned him down. When I got back to New York and was dickering with MGM to record, my father told me, "Eileen--don't wait for somebody that wants to dicker with you. If this other guy wants to do a record, do it." So, I said all right; I went in and cut "Baked a Cake." The Al Trace band musicians played but were called "The New Yorkers" on the label, I don't know why. In the background of the second chorus, you can hear wispy little hand claps; that's my father and Al Hoffman, the song's co-writer.

The record was a tremendous, immediate smash. It shot up, in two or three days it was being played at all the music stores. You couldn't walk down Broadway without it blasting at you. And National couldn't distribute so many records. The guy who ran National, Al Green, called his son Irving, who co-owned Mercury Records in Chicago, and asked him, "Will you put this out for us, we can't handle it." National and Mercury used the same master.

"Baked a Cake" is still one of the highest selling records on an independent label. It held the #1 spot for 10 weeks and remained on the charts for more than four months. It also hit #1 in Britain in April of 1950. It was so popular that four more versions were recorded, including covers by Georgia Gibbs and a duet by Ethel Merman and Ray Bolger. "But they couldn't make a dent at catching up with my record, thank God," adds Eileen.

Riding this hit, National delivered "Honey, Won't You Honeymoon With Me?" (National 9109) as a follow-up, itself followed by the playful "May I Take Two Giant Steps?" (National 9112) which stepped right into the Top 25. Mercury also released Eileen on "You Brought A New Kind Of Love" (Mercury 5410) but the record sold poorly. Still, Barton continued riding the success of her big hit.

"Baked a Cake" opened doors. I got booked all over the country on account of that song. I never liked it, but I knew I had to sing it. What's worse, I never received a dime from National or Mercury for any of those records. I got other work, dates which paid well, from having made those records. But I had a five percent deal with National and Mercury and yet never got a penny in royalties for those records they sold. I wanted out of that deal.

Hot as a bakery oven, Eileen signed with Coral Records, a subsidiary of Decca, in 1951. Her first Coral release was a cover of Johnny Ray's Okeh hit, "Cry" (Coral 60592). Despite Ray's popularity, Barton's version did remarkably well; "Cry" reached the Top 10 and remained on the charts for three months.

"Cry" was very good. Trouble is, we came out the same day as Johnny Ray. So I don't have to tell you what happened; Johnny just buried me. But the A&R guy was terrific, Milt Gabler, I loved him. He did stuff for Billie Holiday and other wonderful people and really got me to sing. He'd say, do this Eileen, don't do that, do it this way. He's the only one I recorded with who took the time to lead me where to go.

In those days, Neal Hefti did all the arrangements and backed me with his orchestra on my records for Coral. Neal and I got to be great friends; he's so brilliant, I could just go on and on.

Next, "Wishin'" (Coral 60651) charted at #30. Other releases in 1952 included a duet with Buddy Greco on "Red Rose Waltz" (Coral 60753), followed by "You Intrigue Me" (Coral 60805) and "Easy, Easy Baby" / "Some Folks Do And Some Folks Don't" (Coral 60833). In 1953, Barton charted again with covers. Barton's version of Perry Como's hit "Don't Let The Stars Get In Your Eyes" (Coral 60882), a country tune written by Slim Willet, reached the Top 25 among best sellers. The next release did even better; "Pretend" (Coral 60927), a hit for Nat "King" Cole on Capitol, was recorded by Eileen with the orchestra of Jack Pleis and reached #17. In late summer, the original "Toys" / "Anytime Anywhere" (Coral 61019) rolled to the Top 20.

Buddy Greco and I had shared the bill at the Chanteclair nightclub in Baltimore on his first date after leaving Benny Goodman. He was so good, he had a good jazz feel when he sang. I loved watching him and I almost never watched other acts. After the show, I taught him songs he hadn't heard, things like "Little Girl Blue," and he loved it, loved to hear those songs. So we've been friends from the very beginning, when we were both kids.

In 1954, Eileen Barton helmed the 12-episode Eileen Barton Show on CBS radio, a variety show featuring Barton and the combo of Alvy West performing popular numbers like "S'Wonderful" and "The Best Things in Life Are Free." That same year, as the rock and roll juggernaut gathered steam, Eileen Barton charted three more times. "Don't Ask Me Why" with Jack Pleis' orchestra (Coral 61109) made the Top 25, as did "Pine Tree, Pine Over Me," a collaboration with Johnny Desmond and The McQuire Sisters (Coral 61126). Eileen's last chart effort was a good one, "Sway" / "When Mama Calls" (Coral 61185). "Sway" just missed the Top 20, peaking at #21, spending six weeks on the charts.

"Knock 'em dead," wired Frank Sinatra on Eileen's opening night at the Copa on September 16, 1954, and she wisely did as she was told. By now, Eileen had blossomed as an accomplished performer and first rate impressionist; her showmanship was wildly applauded at New York's Copacabana and later Hollywood's Mocambo. Her old friend, Milton Berle, gave Eileen the idea to incorporate a successful Harold Arlen medley in her act. Berle, with Bobby Kroll (who wrote for Berle) and Bob Merrill, assembled the climax of Eileen's show--an Al Jolson number in tuxedo and blackface Eileen put on in full view of the audience. Blackface?

That's right. And it knocked 'em dead, boy, knocked 'em dead. That's before everybody got sensitive about blackface, of course. It was a fantastic show, unbelievable reviews. Even Marlene Dietrich stood in line to come to my dressing room to meet me after.

I was on the bill with Joe E. Lewis, who had been in vaudeville with my folks, had held me in his arms so I could watch my parents from the wings. Now I'm on the bill with Joe, and the applause is so ... I can blow my own horn now, a little, because it's all over ... but they gave me a standing ovation so long that when Joe E. came out, they applauded into his act. He had to stop and talk about me before they'd let him go on with his act.

At the Copa I did some great impressions too--of everybody, including Sinatra--I think I did the first impression of Sinatra. It broke everybody up because I was on the nose. Sammy Davis even stole it from me; I sang it for Sammy the night before I opened, and his eyes opened like saucers. I did a takeoff on Sammy too, and Jerry Lewis, Toni Martin, Billy Daniels, whoever was happening.

Eileen snuck away long enough to make College Capers, playing a college student to "professor" Les Baxter in the 1954 Universal "musical featurette" film. This was not her first film (at seven, she appeared in the 1936 film short Songs for Sale) nor would it be her last. In 1963, Eileen had a small part as "Girl in Doctor's Office" in the last scene of Promises, Promises, a controversial comedy in which Jayne Mansfield appeared topless. Because Jayne was the first American actress of her stature to disrobe on screen, the film generated an obscenity hearing and was banned in some locales, although only Europeans saw the gratuitous scenes while Americans were treated to a tamer, edited version.

Eileen continued recording into the 1960s on the Epic, MGM, United Artist and 20th Century Fox labels, although she did not chart again. She toured all the big rooms and venues around the country--the Dunes in Vegas with Wally Cox and later the Flamingo with Mickey Rooney, the Roosevelt and Fairmont Hotels in New York. She appeared a great deal in television, appearing on The Frank Sinatra Show (1951, 1954), Ed Sullivan's Toast of the Town (1950, 1953, 1955), The Stage Show (1956), American Bandstand (1957), Perry Mason (1958) and was even hostess of Video Village, a 1960 summer replacement game show with host Monty Hall. She kept a foot in radio, returning to handle vocal duties in 12 episodes of The Bob Crosby Show with the U.S. Marine Corps. (1955), and appearing on the Guest Star program (1956-1960) and the Stars for Defense program (1960-1961).

I asked Eileen how it felt to first have a big record with a novelty song and then have later recording, which she thought more of, not perform as well on the charts.

You know, I never took the business that seriously. They had to prod me to work; I was never ambitious--I should have been, I might have played it differently. I'd had so many things fall into my lap when I was a kid that I just didn't think too much about it. If William Morris booked me, I'd go. If they didn't book me, I didn't go. I didn't pay much attention or worry about it.

Some of those songs--horrible, just awful, burn them, leave them off if you can [laughing]. Fujiyama Mama--terrible! Wishin'--dumb novelty stuff. But I got to do some good stuff--"Sway," with Terry Gibbs, that's a good record; "Cry," that was good; "Apollo Umberto," that was a cute song; and "The Scene of the Crime" is a very good arrangement; like a Jimmy Lunceford arrangement almost.

Gradually, work got less and less; I never promoted myself, so when the wind blew, I went. But in those days, it was great time to work, it was great recording, not like today where you go to a studio and sing with tin cans on your ears. Before, you had a band in the studio, you could feel what you were doing. How can you feel the song when you perform with earmuffs on?

But that's me--right now you caught me watching the Food Channel and trying to diet at the same time, so what do I know? I say, hey, it's a short life--we should all live and be well and be happy.

Eileen Barton passed away peacefully in her West Hollywood, California home on June 27, 2006, succumbing to a recurring bout of ovarian cancer.

--- Rex Strother (2006)

EILEEN BARTON DISCOGRAPHY