I GOTTA BE ME

The great š—¦š˜š—²š˜ƒš—² š—Ÿš—®š˜„š—暝—²š—»š—°š—² has passed. Farewell Steve, and thank you for recording one of my favorite songs of all time, “š—œ š—šš—¼š˜š˜š—® š—•š—² š— š—²”.

I can remember the exact night I first heard the Steve Lawrence version of “I Gotta Be Me”. It was a hot summer night in NYC, I was sitting at the bar in š—›š˜‚š—±š˜€š—¼š—» š—•š—®š—æ š—®š—»š—± š—•š—¼š—¼š—øš˜€, which in fact is a cigar bar and not a bookstore, but is fittingly on Hudson. In any case, it’s run, or at least gives the suggestion of being run, by eastern European types (š˜µš˜©š˜¦š˜³š˜¦’š˜“ š˜¦š˜·š˜Ŗš˜„š˜¦š˜Æš˜µš˜­š˜ŗ š˜“š˜Ŗš˜£š˜­š˜Ŗš˜Æš˜Ø š˜­š˜°š˜¤š˜¢š˜µš˜Ŗš˜°š˜Æš˜“ š˜Ŗš˜Æ š˜—š˜³š˜¢š˜Øš˜¶š˜¦ š˜¢š˜Æš˜„ š˜žš˜¢š˜³š˜“š˜¢š˜ø…š˜’š˜® š˜Æš˜°š˜µ š˜¦š˜·š˜¦š˜Æ š˜¬š˜Ŗš˜„š˜„š˜Ŗš˜Æš˜Ø), and has a constant stream of James Bond films silently playing on a TV in the back lounge area. It’s actually a lot better and not nearly as camp as all that sounds. In any case, there was a bartender back then, this would be 15 years ago, maybe longer, who used his iPod (š˜Ŗš˜§ š˜µš˜©š˜¢š˜µ š˜Øš˜Ŗš˜·š˜¦š˜“ š˜ŗš˜°š˜¶ š˜¢š˜Æ š˜Ŗš˜„š˜¦š˜¢ š˜°š˜§ š˜µš˜©š˜¦ š˜µš˜Ŗš˜®š˜¦-š˜§š˜³š˜¢š˜®š˜¦) as the source of music, and this guy knew how to do a cocktail lounge soundtrack. On this particular night, I would have been at least one Glenmorangie 18yr in (š˜±š˜³š˜°š˜£š˜¢š˜£š˜­š˜ŗ š˜®š˜°š˜³š˜¦), and I’d been studying the kitschy lamp that had some kind of monkey protruding from it sitting on the bar in front of me . And then “I Gotta Be Me” came on. I was fixated. It immediately, without further thought or debate, replaced “My Way” as the song that I felt described how I wanted to see myself, and would influence how I’d live my life from that day forward (š˜¢š˜Æš˜„ š˜µš˜©š˜¢š˜µ’š˜“ š˜Æš˜°š˜µ š˜©š˜ŗš˜±š˜¦š˜³š˜£š˜°š˜­š˜¦). In fact even before the song was over I was pontificating to no one in particular around me, “š˜ š˜°š˜¶ š˜¬š˜Æš˜°š˜ø, š˜µš˜©š˜Ŗš˜“ š˜Ŗš˜“ š˜µš˜©š˜¦ š˜¢š˜„š˜¶š˜­š˜µ š˜·š˜¦š˜³š˜“š˜Ŗš˜°š˜Æ š˜°š˜§ ‘š˜”š˜ŗ š˜žš˜¢š˜ŗ’. š˜ š˜®š˜¦š˜¢š˜Æ, ‘š˜”š˜ŗ š˜žš˜¢š˜ŗ’ š˜Ŗš˜“ š˜©š˜°š˜ø š˜ŗš˜°š˜¶ š˜µš˜©š˜Ŗš˜Æš˜¬ š˜ŗš˜°š˜¶ š˜øš˜Ŗš˜­š˜­ š˜øš˜¢š˜Æš˜µ š˜µš˜° š˜­š˜Ŗš˜·š˜¦ š˜ŗš˜°š˜¶š˜³ š˜­š˜Ŗš˜§š˜¦ š˜øš˜©š˜¦š˜Æ š˜ŗš˜°š˜¶’š˜³š˜¦ š˜ŗš˜°š˜¶š˜Æš˜Ø š˜¢š˜Æš˜„ š˜Æš˜¢š˜Ŗš˜·š˜¦ š˜¢š˜Æš˜„ š˜ŗš˜°š˜¶š˜³ š˜øš˜©š˜°š˜­š˜¦ š˜­š˜Ŗš˜§š˜¦ š˜Ŗš˜“ š˜“š˜µš˜Ŗš˜­š˜­ š˜Ŗš˜Æ š˜§š˜³š˜°š˜Æš˜µ š˜°š˜§ š˜ŗš˜°š˜¶. š˜‰š˜¶š˜µ š˜µš˜©š˜Ŗš˜“ š˜“š˜°š˜Æš˜Ø, ‘š˜ š˜Žš˜°š˜µš˜µš˜¢ š˜‰š˜¦ š˜”š˜¦’, š˜›š˜š˜š˜š š˜Ŗš˜“ š˜©š˜°š˜ø š˜ŗš˜°š˜¶ š˜©š˜°š˜±š˜¦ š˜ŗš˜°š˜¶ š˜©š˜¢š˜·š˜¦ š˜­š˜Ŗš˜·š˜¦š˜„ š˜ŗš˜°š˜¶š˜³ š˜­š˜Ŗš˜§š˜¦…” I may have ranted on for a while longer, and I think the bartender may have heard part of that, because he gave me an approving nod, and another round. And he would also make sure that song played at least once every time I was there from that evening on, always with a nod to me, without me ever requesting it.

That bartender is no longer there, and I haven’t been back to Hudson Bar and Books (š˜¢š˜Æš˜ŗ š˜°š˜§ š˜µš˜©š˜¦ š˜­š˜°š˜¤š˜¢š˜µš˜Ŗš˜°š˜Æš˜“) very much in the last few years, but next time I’m there I’ll raise a glass to him, wherever he is, and thank him for playing “I Gotta Be Me” that hot summer night so many years ago, and another glass to the great Steve Lawrence for recording the definitive (š˜§š˜°š˜³ š˜®š˜¦) version of it.

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