It sounds like an old MGM musical: A girl singer from a small town is discovered, becomes a star, then drops out of sight, only to rise again years later. That, in a nutshell, is the story of Marilyn Maye, who at the tender age of 81 has become the hottest cabaret performer in town. Tonight she makes her debut at Feinstein’s, where she’ll hold court for two weeks.
Heady stuff for a girl from Des Moines, where she started singing at age 7 and never stopped. But while her mother encouraged her, she was no Momma Rose.
“Maybe she should have been,” Maye laughs. “My career might have been different.”
As it was, Steve Allen heard her singing in a nightclub in the early ’60s, and put her on his prime-time TV show. Before long, she’d signed up with RCA Records and put out seven albums in as many years. In 1965, she was up for a Grammy as Best New Artist, only to find herself running in a field of pop stars — Herman’s Hermits, the Byrds and the eventual winner, lusty Welshman Tom Jones.
“My timing was bad,” she says now. “That was when rock ‘n’ roll and all of that was just beginning to happen.”
But rock wasn’t her style — cabaret was — and she worked at it ceaselessly. She was doing three shows a night, seven nights a week at a nightspot called the Living Room when Ed McMahon heard her and invited her to appear on “The Tonight Show.”
It turned out to be quite a gig.
“We were both Midwestern kids,” she says of Johnny Carson, a native Nebraskan. “He must have understood me a lot. But he also just loved musicians and good singers.”
He must have loved her — she appeared 76 times, a record for any singer. Even so, her encounters with the notoriously reclusive Carson remained onstage: “He was so careful not to converse with you before showtime other than to pop his head into the makeup room to say hello.”
When she wasn’t on TV, she was at the Copacabana, El Morocco and Michael’s Pub. But the music scene was changing; one by one, the clubs disappeared.
So Maye left. She starred in “Mame,” “Follies” and other shows in Kansas City and Houston. They were a far cry from the El Morocco.
“Was I bitter?” she asks with a laugh. “No. You can bury yourself with depression over things that didn’t happen . . . Part of my survival is that I don’t wallow.”
Nearly two decades after she left the city, she was invited to perform at a cabaret convention. The rapturous response vaulted her to New York’s Metropolitan Room, where critics fell over themselves praising her still-gorgeous voice and phrasing. (“It’s a master class in singing,” kvelled Rex Reed.)
“I’m just thrilled that they found me,” says Maye, who balks at the notion that she’s been “rediscovered.”
“In the Midwest, we still lived,” she says. “I’ve dedicated my entire life to this, and I’m very grateful that it’s being recognized.”
Joining her at Feinstein’s will be drummer Jim Ekloff, with whom she’s performed for 48 years. From there, it’s on to Palm Beach and Key West.
These days, she travels alone: Her three marriages — the last one, to her pianist — ended in divorce. (Her daughter, Kristi, teaches singing and dancing in Kansas City.) And no, she doesn’t plan to get hitched again. Nor does she plan to retire: “The secret is to keep moving, honey!”
And while she’s yet to play Carnegie Hall, she’s hopeful. “I’ve certainly practiced enough,” she says. “I’m a good singer and I know it. I’m too old to be humble.”
Marilyn Maye plays Feinstein’s, at 540 Park Ave., through March 13. Call 212-339-4095 for more information.