Jazz With Miss Beverly Sills

Opera meets Jazz

In the 1980s, I was the go-to pianist for corporate events, grand openings, and gala fundraisers—always dressed in a tuxedo, ready to provide that touch of elegance everyone seemed to want. High-end neighborhoods were springing up all over West Austin, and Rob Roy was one of the premier gated communities at the time. One particular event stands out: a fundraiser for the March of Dimes held at a stunning $4 million mansion on Pascal Lane, purchased by a corporation solely to host lavish parties.

The night was everything you'd imagine—limousines pulling up, guests in evening gowns, incredible food, and casual conversations under the stars. As I played background jazz—standards from Gershwin, Harold Arlen, and Cole Porter—a noticeable buzz began to ripple through the crowd. I looked up and there she was: Beverly Sills. I didn’t realize it then, but Beverly was the National Chair of the March of Dimes' Mothers' March on Birth Defects and had helped raise over $80 million during her tenure. The energy shifted instantly; everyone wanted to meet her.

While I continued to play, I noticed Beverly glancing my way, smiling between conversations. She seemed genuinely interested in the music. Eventually, she walked over and struck up a conversation. She complimented my playing, and I told her I often worked with jazz singers. To my surprise, she revealed that she loved jazz and used to sing in clubs when she was younger. I jokingly asked if she'd like to sing a tune with me, and she enthusiastically said, "Yeah! Let’s do it!"

We chose three Gershwin classics: “Summertime,” “Someone to Watch Over Me,” and “Our Love Is Here to Stay.” Suddenly, the entire crowd quieted down, taking seats around the piano to witness this impromptu performance. Beverly never asked about keys—she just let me play, adapting effortlessly to whatever I chose. It was remarkable. Her voice was like silver, natural and full of that jazz feeling. She was absolutely captivating, not just with her voice but with her presence and smile. She gave me room to improvise, took her cues with just a glance, and we had fun adding playful tags to the endings. It felt effortless, like we’d performed together a hundred times.

Only later did I learn she had shared the stage with legends like Frank Sinatra, Carol Burnett, Danny Kaye, and Ann-Margret. It made sense—her grace and charisma were unmistakable.

pictured: Frank Sinatra, Beverly, and Robert Merrill

After our little concert, it felt as though we were old friends. There's something about making music with someone that forms an unspoken bond; it’s like knowing their name, and knowing them forever. Beverly made sure to come by again before leaving, thanking me and saying how much fun it had been. And yes, I even got a little kiss on the cheek.

Beverly’s NYC apartment 1975

Thanks for the incredible night, Beverly!

It’s a memory I’ll always cherish.