Barry, Belief and Reality

When I was a teenager, I used to write letters to Barry Manilow. His music touched me so deeply that I was compelled to share my thoughts and feelings with him by putting pen to paper. I had a whole system: I used red envelopes and hand-printed the address on each letter by imitating the graphics on his albums. I numbered each letter I wrote. I wanted to make sure my letters stood out and I was very persistent. In my writing, I did not just praise Barry's music or tell him I thought he was cute. I could be a harsh critic sometimes, especially when he compromised his integrity by recording some vapid songs, that were, in my opinion, nothing more than thinly-veiled attempts to make a hit record. One time, I was especially stern after I heard his recording of "Can't Smile Without You". It broke my heart to write Barry that letter and to my surprise, he wrote me back saying he agreed with my opinion of his song. However, he fully stood by the production of the record and was proud of the results. Barry also called me his "most intelligent fan" and said he knew how difficult it must have been for me to write that letter to him. I was 17 years old.

I still have that letter. I still have all of the letters Barry wrote me. I think the first one written in his handwriting arrived in my mailbox when I was 16. His letters were almost all hand-written, and a paragraph long. Except for the "Can't Smile Without You" letter. That one extended on to a second page. Promotional people from Arista Records called my mom's house, three or four times, to offer me and my family free tickets to see Barry in concert.

I remember telling my friends about this. They thought I was crazy. My friend Sam's mom put unbelievable pressure on him and swore up-and-down that his poor friend, Anne, was making it all up, in an attempt to get attention. And then, this happened:

1978 -- 32 years ago
Moline High School student Anne Silberman left for New York this morning to go to a party at the St. Regis Hotel, at the invitation of her favorite entertainer, Barry Manilow. Miss Silberman has written 104 fan letters to Manilow. The party is honoring Manilow's return to New York, midway through his U.S. tour.

No, I was not a "Moline High School student", but my dad, never one to shy away from publicity, insisted that a reporter from Moline, Illinois take a photo and write an article for the local paper, stating that he and his darling daughter were flying to New York City at the request of Barry Manilow, to attend a party in his honor and a concert.

I was visiting my dad in Illinois, over the summer between my high school junior and senior year, when my mother, in Pennsylvania, got a gold-engraved invitation for me in the mail from Arista Records - all expenses paid. Mom got a phone call with an invitation, too. So, after buying a couple of new outfits, my father and I went to New York City and had limousines transport us from the airport to the hotel and later, from the hotel to the concert.

The real event, however, was the big gala held in Barry's honor in the hotel's grand ballroom. Arista had planned on having me sit next to the New York newspaper columnist, Earl Wilson, hoping I would provide enough juicy tidbits to ensure a swell human-interest story in the Times the next morning. However, once I got to the ballroom and saw Barry and his back-up singer, Reparata, enter the room, I walked right up and introduced myself to him. He hugged me and said "Where are you sitting?" and I pointed to my table way in the back. He then said "No! You're sitting WITH ME!!" And, he got the waiters to set up a place for me in between him and Reparata. The big round table was also populated by his songwriting partners.

During the course of that incredible night (especially for a 17-year-old girl from Harrisburg, PA) I met Ertha Kitt, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Roberta Flack and most of the amazing and creative people who helped Barry write and produce his songs. When Barry introduced me to Bruce Sussman, he told me he gave Bruce one of my letters praising a song he had written. At the time, I was so stunned all I could think to say was "You Gave Away My Letters?" I had never considered that anybody else would ever find my words valuable. Of course, I was immediately mortified I said such a thing to Barry.

And Mr. Manilow was incredibly kind to me that night, and all of the other times I got to talk with him. A few years later, after a concert in Maryland, he even had everybody else clear out of his dressing room and he sat down and spoke ALONE with me for about 15 minutes. Unfortunately, I had recently injured myself and had to sit down on a FRICKIN' DONUT CUSHION the whole time - Barry, again, was very kind. By that time, I had begun singing in bands. One of the problems facing a Top-40 cover band was how to end a cover song, that faded out on the record. I asked Barry how he got his ideas for song endings and he went over to the piano and explained why he modulated keys. He said you needed to let the audience know that the end was coming and that the endings had to be dramatic so that they would know for sure that the song was over.

I am remembering and writing all of this now, in order to explain to those who do not believe, why it is easier for me to firmly believe that many years ago, another famous, kind and handsome man and I fell in love above the city lights in Montreal. And I never knew (for sure) that it was him until this past Saturday night.