About: Peggy Lee About: Peggy Lee An Entity of Type : person , from Named Graph : , within Data Space : dbpedia.org Peggy Lee (born Norma Deloris Egstrom; May 26, 1920 – January 21, 2002) was an American jazz and popular music singer, songwriter, composer and actress, in a career spanning six decades. From her beginning as a vocalist on local radio to singing with Benny Goodman's big band, she forged a sophisticated persona, evolving into a multi-faceted artist and performer. She wrote music for films, acted, and created conceptual record albums—encompassing poetry, jazz, chamber pop, and art songs. Property abstract Peggy Lee (born Norma Deloris Egstrom; May 26, 1920 – January 21, 2002) was an American jazz and popular music singer, songwriter, composer and actress, in a career spanning six decades. From her beginning as a vocalist on local radio to singing with Benny Goodman's big band, she forged a sophisticated persona, evolving into a multi-faceted artist and performer.

She wrote music for films, acted, and created conceptual record albums—encompassing poetry, jazz, chamber pop, and art songs. (en) بيغي لي (26 مايو 1920 - 21 يناير 2002) هي مغنية جاز وبوب أميركية، وشاعر غنائية، وملحنة، وممثلة في حياتها المهنية التي امتدت ستة عقود. منذ بدايتها كمطربة في الاذاعة المحلية إلى غناء مع فرقة بيني غودمان الكبيرة، طورت شخصية منوعة، لتصبح فنانة متعدد الأوجه.

كتبت موسيقى لأفلام، ومثلت، وأصدرت البومات شاملة سجل فيها الشعر، والجاز والبوب.32x28pxبوابة أعلام32x28pxبوابة الولايات المتحدة32x28pxبوابة سينما32x28pxبوابة السينما الأمريكية32x28pxبوابة موسيقى (ar) Peggy Lee (Norma Deloris Egstrom) est une chanteuse, auteur de chansons et actrice américaine, née le à Jamestown (Dakota du Nord) et morte le à Bel Air (Californie). Reconnue comme étant une des plus importantes influences musicales du XXe siècle, Peggy Lee est notamment citée comme ayant influencé des artistes aussi divers que Paul McCartney, Bette Midler, Madonna, k.d. lang, Elvis Costello, Dr. John, et nombre d'autres.

En tant que compositrice, elle a collaboré avec son mari Dave Barbour, Sonny Burke, Victor Young, Francis Lai, Dave Grusin, John Chiodini et Duke Ellington, qui déclarait « Si je suis le Duc, alors Peggy est la Reine ». En tant qu'actrice, elle a été candidate aux Oscars pour son rôle dans Pete Kelly's Blues. Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, Judy Garland, Dean Martin, Bing Crosby et Louis Armstrong la citent tous comme une de leurs chanteuses préférées. (fr) Peggy Lee (* 26. Mai 1920 in Jamestown, North Dakota als Norma Delores Egstrom; † 21. Januar 2002 in Bel Air, Los Angeles) war eine US-amerikanische Sängerin und Songwriterin in den Bereichen Populäre Musik und Jazz sowie Schauspielerin.

(de) Peggy Lee (Norma Deloris Egstrom: Jamestown, de Dakota del Norte, 26 de mayo de 1920 – Los Ángeles, 21 de enero del 2002) fue una artista estadounidense, cantante de jazz y de música popular, así como compositora de canciones y actriz candidata al Oscar. Ampliamente reconocida como una de las personalidades musicales más influyentes del siglo XX, Lee ha sido citada como mentora de artistas tan diversos como Bobby Darin, Paul McCartney, Bette Midler, Madonna, K.d. lang, Elvis Costello, Dusty Springfield, Dr. John, y otros muchos. Como compositora, colaboró con su marido, Dave Barbour, con Sonny Burke, Victor Young, Francis Lai, Dave Grusin, John Chiodini, y Duke Ellington, quien afirmó, "Si yo soy el Duke (duque), entonces Peggy es la Reina." Como actriz fue nominada para un premio Oscar por su papel en Pete Kelly's Blues. Como cantante, Peggy Lee tenía registro de contralto.

Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, Judy Garland, Dean Martin, Bing Crosby y Louis Armstrong la citaron como una de sus cantantes favoritas. (es) Fra i suoi cavalli di battaglia figurano The Girl from Ipanema (Garota de Ipanema), la cover di Fever del 1958 per la Capitol premiata nel 1998 con il Grammy Hall of Fame Award, White Christmas, A Doodlin' Song (contenuta nel CD Weeds: Music from the Original Series, dalla trasmissione televisiva Weeds), Somebody Else Is Taking My Place, Mañana (Is Soon Enough for Me) e Is That All There Is?. Quest'ultimo brano del 1969 le ha fruttato nel 1970 un Grammy Award alla miglior interpretazione vocale femminile pop ed il Grammy Hall of Fame Award 1999. Un medley di sue canzoni è stato inserito nel reality show Pussycat Dolls Present: The Search for the Next Doll.

Frank Sinatra ha detto di lei: Crooner riconosciuta, è stata una stella di prima grandezza nel firmamento della musica jazz e blues, al pari di alcuni dei suoi cantanti preferiti: Ella Fitzgerald, Judy Garland, Dean Martin, Bing Crosby, Nat King Cole e Louis Armstrong.

Nel 1995 ha vinto il Grammy Award alla carriera e il suo nome è iscritto fra quello delle celebrità della Hollywood Walk of Fame (it) ペギー・リー（Peggy Lee, 1920年5月26日 - 2002年1月21日）は、アメリカ合衆国の歌手・女優。本名ノーマ・デロリス・エグストローム（Norma Deloris Egstrom）。「ソフト・アンド・クール」な歌声で知られた。血液型はO型。 (ja) Peggy Lee, artiestennaam van Norma Dolores Egstrom, (Jamestown (North Dakota), 26 mei 1920 - Bel-Air (Los Angeles), 21 januari 2002) was een Amerikaanse pop- en jazzzangeres, bekend om haar verleidelijke, hese stem en gereserveerde 'coole' zangstijl. Haar bekendste nummers waren Why Don't You Do Right, Fever en Is That All There Is?.

(nl) Peggy Lee (Jamestown, 26 de maio de 1920 — Bel Air, Los Angeles, 21 de janeiro de 2002), nome artístico de Norma Deloris Egstrom, foi uma cantora de jazz tradicional estadunidense conhecida por interpretar as canções "Is That All There Is?" e "Fever". Ao longo de uma carreira de mais de cinco décadas, Peggy gravou mais de 600 canções e chegou a ser comparada às mais importantes cantoras americanas de sua época, como Billie Holiday e Bessie Smith. (pt) Norma Deloris Egstrom (ur. 26 maja 1920 w Jamestown, zm. 21 stycznia 2002 w Los Angeles) − amerykańska piosenkarka i aktorka, nominowana do Oscara za rolę drugoplanową w filmie Pete Kelly's Blues. Jej ojciec, Marvin Olof Egstrom, pochodził ze Szwecji, a matka, Selma Amelia (Anderson) Egstrom, z Norwegii.

Śpiewała m.in. "Fever", "It`s a Good Day", "As Time Goes By", "I Love Being Here with You", "Why Don't You Do Right". (pl) Пегги Ли (англ. Peggy Lee, урождённая Норма Делорис Эгстром (англ. Norma Deloris Egstrom), 26 мая 1920(19200526) — 21 января 2002) — американская джазовая певица, автор песен и актриса, номинантка на «Оскар» в 1955 году. (ru) Complications of diabetes following a heart attack (en) The Jazz Tree Disney's Lady and the Tramp (en) comment Peggy Lee (born Norma Deloris Egstrom; May 26, 1920 – January 21, 2002) was an American jazz and popular music singer, songwriter, composer and actress, in a career spanning six decades.

From her beginning as a vocalist on local radio to singing with Benny Goodman's big band, she forged a sophisticated persona, evolving into a multi-faceted artist and performer. She wrote music for films, acted, and created conceptual record albums—encompassing poetry, jazz, chamber pop, and art songs. (en) بيغي لي (26 مايو 1920 - 21 يناير 2002) هي مغنية جاز وبوب أميركية، وشاعر غنائية، وملحنة، وممثلة في حياتها المهنية التي امتدت ستة عقود. منذ بدايتها كمطربة في الاذاعة المحلية إلى غناء مع فرقة بيني غودمان الكبيرة، طورت شخصية منوعة، لتصبح فنانة متعدد الأوجه.

كتبت موسيقى لأفلام، ومثلت، وأصدرت البومات شاملة سجل فيها الشعر، والجاز والبوب.32x28pxبوابة أعلام32x28pxبوابة الولايات المتحدة32x28pxبوابة سينما32x28pxبوابة السينما الأمريكية32x28pxبوابة موسيقى (ar) Peggy Lee (* 26. Mai 1920 in Jamestown, North Dakota als Norma Delores Egstrom; † 21. Januar 2002 in Bel Air, Los Angeles) war eine US-amerikanische Sängerin und Songwriterin in den Bereichen Populäre Musik und Jazz sowie Schauspielerin.

(de) ペギー・リー（Peggy Lee, 1920年5月26日 - 2002年1月21日）は、アメリカ合衆国の歌手・女優。本名ノーマ・デロリス・エグストローム（Norma Deloris Egstrom）。「ソフト・アンド・クール」な歌声で知られた。血液型はO型。 (ja) Peggy Lee, artiestennaam van Norma Dolores Egstrom, (Jamestown (North Dakota), 26 mei 1920 - Bel-Air (Los Angeles), 21 januari 2002) was een Amerikaanse pop- en jazzzangeres, bekend om haar verleidelijke, hese stem en gereserveerde 'coole' zangstijl. Haar bekendste nummers waren Why Don't You Do Right, Fever en Is That All There Is?.

(nl) Peggy Lee (Jamestown, 26 de maio de 1920 — Bel Air, Los Angeles, 21 de janeiro de 2002), nome artístico de Norma Deloris Egstrom, foi uma cantora de jazz tradicional estadunidense conhecida por interpretar as canções "Is That All There Is?" e "Fever". Ao longo de uma carreira de mais de cinco décadas, Peggy gravou mais de 600 canções e chegou a ser comparada às mais importantes cantoras americanas de sua época, como Billie Holiday e Bessie Smith. (pt) Пегги Ли (англ. Peggy Lee, урождённая Норма Делорис Эгстром (англ. Norma Deloris Egstrom), 26 мая 1920(19200526) — 21 января 2002) — американская джазовая певица, автор песен и актриса, номинантка на «Оскар» в 1955 году.

(ru) Peggy Lee (Norma Deloris Egstrom) est une chanteuse, auteur de chansons et actrice américaine, née le à Jamestown (Dakota du Nord) et morte le à Bel Air (Californie).Reconnue comme étant une des plus importantes influences musicales du XXe siècle, Peggy Lee est notamment citée comme ayant influencé des artistes aussi divers que Paul McCartney, Bette Midler, Madonna, k.d. lang, Elvis Costello, Dr. John, et nombre d'autres. En tant que compositrice, elle a collaboré avec son mari Dave Barbour, Sonny Burke, Victor Young, Francis Lai, Dave Grusin, John Chiodini et Duke Ellington, qui déclarait « Si je suis le Duc, alors Peggy est la Reine ». En tant qu'actrice, elle a été candidate aux Oscars pour son rôle dans Pete Kelly's Blues.

(fr) Peggy Lee (Norma Deloris Egstrom: Jamestown, de Dakota del Norte, 26 de mayo de 1920 – Los Ángeles, 21 de enero del 2002) fue una artista estadounidense, cantante de jazz y de música popular, así como compositora de canciones y actriz candidata al Oscar.Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, Judy Garland, Dean Martin, Bing Crosby y Louis Armstrong la citaron como una de sus cantantes favoritas. (es) Fra i suoi cavalli di battaglia figurano The Girl from Ipanema (Garota de Ipanema), la cover di Fever del 1958 per la Capitol premiata nel 1998 con il Grammy Hall of Fame Award, White Christmas, A Doodlin' Song (contenuta nel CD Weeds: Music from the Original Series, dalla trasmissione televisiva Weeds), Somebody Else Is Taking My Place, Mañana (Is Soon Enough for Me) e Is That All There Is?.

Quest'ultimo brano del 1969 le ha fruttato nel 1970 un Grammy Award alla miglior interpretazione vocale femminile pop ed il Grammy Hall of Fame Award 1999. Un medley di sue canzoni è stato inserito nel reality show Pussycat Dolls Present: The Search for the Next Doll. (it) Norma Deloris Egstrom (ur. 26 maja 1920 w Jamestown, zm. 21 stycznia 2002 w Los Angeles) − amerykańska piosenkarka i aktorka, nominowana do Oscara za rolę drugoplanową w filmie Pete Kelly's Blues.Jej ojciec, Marvin Olof Egstrom, pochodził ze Szwecji, a matka, Selma Amelia (Anderson) Egstrom, z Norwegii. Śpiewała m.in. "Fever", "It`s a Good Day", "As Time Goes By", "I Love Being Here with You", "Why Don't You Do Right".

(pl) Peggy Lee Biography<br /> Claim to Fame: Jazz singer, songwriter, and actress DOB: May 26, 1920 Date of Death: January 21, 2002 Diabetes Type: Unknown In a 1994 Interview, Frank Sinatra complimented Peggy Lee, stating, "Her wonderful talent should be studied by all vocalists; her regal presence is pure elegance and charm." Her reflective, soulful voice has been held up as the “epitome of jazz” and praised for its subtle, yet forceful sound. A modest woman, Peggy Lee was a being apart from the flashy, over-the-top divas of her day, and her legacy is one of rich, passionate musical expression. Born Norma Deloris Egstrom, the seventh of eight children to Scandinavian parents, Peggy Lee grew up in Jamestown, North Dakota to Marvin, a station agent for the Midland Continental Railroad, and Selma, a housewife. Selma died when Peggy Lee was only four years old, leaving Marvin to juggle both work and his family, and Peggy Lee to grow up with the knowledge of how to look after herself.

As soon as she turned 18, Peggy Lee set forth on the path that would ultimately lead her to jazz and success as a performer. Having been involved with her high school glee club, church choir, and community chorus groups, Peggy Lee decided to venture out to Hollywood, CA., with the hope of becoming a singer and actress. However, upon arrival, Peggy Lee could only procure a singing engagement at a small social club, the Jade Room. She had no success at becoming an actress and was forced to take up a job as a waitress. Peggy Lee returned home to undergo a tonsillectomy and stayed in North Dakota while she recovered. Following her recovery, Peggy Lee set out to Chicago where she quickly got a job singing at a nightclub, the Buttery Room. In 1941, Peggy Lee had become a standout performer and in a short time, Benny Goodman took interest in her and asked her to perform with his group. Benny Goodman’s band was at the height of its career when Peggy Lee joined, so the young singer felt the full force of fame all at once.

In 1942, after learning performing with Benny Goodman’s band for more than two years, Peggy Lee recorded her first smash hit, "Why Don’t You Do Right?" The single was extremely popular and sold over 1 million copies, making Peggy Lee a recognizable figure and predicting her fame. In 1946, she began to record for Capitol Records and began a professional relationship that would last throughout most of Lee’s career. In 1948, Lee got involved with NBC and performed on the Jimmy Durante Show and the Chesterfield Supper Club. Over the course of her career, she received three Grammy Awards, a Lifetime Achievement Award, and Academy Award nomination, the ASCAP Award, Living Legacy Award and, in 1999, an induction into the Songwriter’s Hall of Fame. Lee has had great success as a songwriter, working on music for Disney and writing songs for names like Sonny Burke, Duke Ellington, Quincy Jones, and Victor Young. Lee has also been mentor to Judy Garland, Frank Sinatra, Paul McCartney, and Madonna. On January 21, 2002, Peggy Lee died of a heart attack.

Prior to her death, she had been suffering from complications due to her diabetes and, though still performing throughout the 90’s, was often seen in a wheelchair and weakened by her illness. Lee was 81 when she died and was buried in Westwood, Los Angeles, California. Peggy Lee | The Encyclopedia of Popular Music The Encyclopedia of Popular Music You are here: Home » All About Peggy » Biography » The Encyclopedia of Popular Music Edited by Colin Larkin; Muze Inc., 1998 Lee, Peggy – born Norma Deloris Egstrom, 26 May 1920, Jamestown, North Dakota, USA. Lee is of Scandinavian descent, her grandparents being Swedish and Norwegian immigrants. She endured a difficult childhood and her mother died when she was four; when her father remarried she experienced a decidedly unpleasant relationship with her stepmother. Her father took to drink, and at the age of 14 she found herself carrying out his duties at the local railroad depot. Despite these and other hardships, she sang frequently and appeared on a local radio station. She took a job as a waitress in Fargo, where the manager of the radio station changed her name to Peggy Lee.

In 1937, she took a trip to California to try her luck there but soon returned to Fargo. Another California visit was equally unsuccessful and then she tried Chicago where, in 1941, as a member of a vocal group, The Four of Us, she was hired to sing at the Ambassador West Hotel. During this engagement she was heard by Mel Powell, who invited Benny Goodman to hear her. Goodman’s regular singer, Helen Forrest, was about to leave and Lee was hired as her replacement. She joined the band for an engagement at the College Inn and within a few days sang on a record date. A song from the period, “Elmer’s Tune,” was a huge success. Among other popular recordings she made with Goodman were “How Deep Is the Ocean?,” “How Long Has This Been Going On?,” “My Old Flame,” and “Why Don’t You Do Right?.” Later, Lee married Goodman’s guitarist, Dave Barbour.

After she left Goodman’s band in 1943, she had more successful records, including “That Old Feeling” and three songs of which she was co-composer with Barbour, “It’s a Good Day,” “I Don’t Know Enough About You,” and “Mañana.” She also performed on radio with Bing Crosby. In the [late 1940s and early] 1950s she made several popular recordings for Capitol, the orchestral backings for many of which were arranged and conducted by Barbour. Her 1958 hit single “Fever” was also a collaboration with Barbour [sic]. Her “Black Coffee” album of 1953 was particularly successful, as was “Beauty and the Beat” a few years later. On these and other albums of the period, Lee was often accompanied by jazz musicians, including Jimmy Rowles, Marty Paich and George Shearing. Lee was also active in films, performing the title song of “Johnny Guitar” (1954), and writing songs for others including “Tom Thumb” (1958).

She also made a number of on-screen appearances in acting roles, including “The Jazz Singer” (1953), and for one, “Pete Kelly’s Blues” (1955), she was nominated for an Academy Award as Best Supporting Actress. However, her most lasting fame in films lies in her off-screen work on Walt Disney’s “Lady and the Tramp,” for which Lee wrote the song “He’s a Tramp” and provided the voice for the characters of Peg, the Siamese cats, and one other on-screen feline. Her recording successes continued throughout the period even if, on some occasions, she had to fight to persuade Capitol to record them. One such argument surrounded “Lover,” which executives felt would compete directly with the label’s then popular version by Les Paul. Lee won out [sic; she left Capitol for Decca] and her performance of her own arrangement, played by a studio orchestra under the direction of Gordon Jenkins, was a sensation. Towards the end of the 1950s, the intense level of work began to take its toll and she suffered a period of illness.

Throughout the 1960s and succeeding decades Lee performed extensively, singing at concerts and on television and, of course, making records, despite being frequently plagued with poor health. Her voice is light with a delicate huskiness, offering intriguing contrasts with the large orchestral accompaniment that is usually a part of a Lee performance. Over the years her repeated use of previously successful settings for songs has tended to make her shows predictable, but she remains a dedicated perfectionist in everything that she does. In the early 1980s she attempted a [Broadway] stage show, “Peg,” but it proved unpopular and closed quickly. In the late 1980s she again suffered ill health and on some of her live performances her voice was starting to betray the ravages of time. For her many fans, it did not seem to matter: to paraphrase the title of one of her songs, they just loved being there with Peg.

In 1992, wheelchair-bound for the previous two years, Lee was persisting in a lawsuit, begun in 1987, against the Walt Disney Corporation for her share of the video profits from “Lady and the Tramp.” A year later, dissatisfied with the “paltry” £2 million settlement for her six songs (written with Sonny Burke) and character voices, she was preparing to write a book about the whole affair. Meanwhile, she continued to make occasional cabaret appearances at New York venues such as Club 53. In 1993 she recorded a duet with Gilbert O’Sullivan for his album “Sounds of the Loop.” Lee is one of the greatest “classy” vocalists of the century, alongside such artists as Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday, Sarah Vaughan and Betty Carter. Delving into Peggy Lee's Steamy Mystique : NPR Delving into Peggy Lee's Steamy Mystique Embed Embed Delving into Peggy Lee's Steamy Mystique Delving into Peggy Lee's Steamy Mystique Embed Embed Why Don't You Do Right?

Toggle more options Embed Embed <iframe src="" width="100%" height="290" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" title="NPR embedded audio player"> Fever Embed Embed <iframe src="" width="100%" height="290" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" title="NPR embedded audio player"> Is That All There Is? Toggle more options Embed Embed <iframe src="" width="100%" height="290" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" title="NPR embedded audio player"> Peggy Lee's most memorable tune was "Fever," slinky and inimitable. The 1958 hit encapsulates what many remember about the singer: her playful delivery, charisma and sexuality. Peter Richmond tells her story in a biography that borrows the song's title. The woman who was to become the wise-to-the-world Lee was born Norma Deloris Egstrom in North Dakota. She performed with Benny Goodman's orchestra before going on to record and write songs of her own.

Hollywood beckoned, too: She earned an Oscar nomination for her portrayal of an alcoholic singer in 1955's Pete Kelly's Blues, opposite the future just-the-facts ma'am star of TV's Dragnet, Jack Webb. When Lee died of a heart attack at age 81 in 2002, artists from k.d. lang to Diana Krall noted her influence on their own singing. Among her other hits: "Is That All There Is?" "Manana" and songs for Disney's Lady and the Tramp. Lee published her own life story in 1989, but Richmond provides the first major biography of the singer. A family statement about Fever seems guarded but generally supportive of the effort, which delves into Lee's difficult childhood and four marriages, as well as her artistic drive. Article continues after sponsorship May 6, 20064:52 PM ET Peter Richmond Fever author Peter Richmond is a feature writer for GQ magazine. He has also appeared as a sports commentator on NPR's Morning Edition. Melissa Richmond hide caption toggle caption Melissa Richmond Prologue: White Night The Half Note was dark, Coltrane uncharacteristically silent. Birdland was battened down.

Buddy Rich and his boys had taken a one-night holiday. Lonely chords serenaded the empty rink at Rockefeller Center, not a single skater to hear them. On this February evening in 1961, the blizzard of the century had all but locked the great city down. The silence of a foot and a half of newly fallen snow had blanketed the island from river to river. An edict from Mayor Robert Wagner had swept all but essential vehicles from the streets. Bars, restaurants, shops—everything was shuttered; most of the town's famously bright lights were extinguished. Hardly a sound could be heard in the muffled night, save the winter wind whipping from alley to alley. Hardly a soul could be glimpsed on Manhattan Island, except for the intrepid pedestrians gathering in the immediate vicinity of East Forty-eighth Street and Lexington Avenue, where the most elegant of parades was making its way through the blowing flakes and the gathering drifts.

Laughing couples seductively attired in minks and tuxedos, giddy revelers swathed in mufflers and mittens, all hurried through the glow of streetlights, braving the wind, lured by an unseen gravitational pull toward what was, on this singular evening, the city's undisputed nexus. The long, rarely silent, and usually smoky room was known as the nightclub of nightclubs, and despite the climate's extreme hostility, people packed the space—wall to wall, table to table, knee to knee, stranger to stranger—as if all the energy of old New York, banished from the streets, had been channeled and gathered into this single place, for one single night, one single show. They had come to catch her fever. They had come to bask in her cool. They had come to Basin Street East to hear the Queen. That's what Ellington had ordained her: "If I'm the Duke, man, Peggy Lee is Queen." The New Yorker, describing this particular engagement in typically omniscient style, had settled simply for calling her "practically the hub of the universe," drawing no argument from the cognoscenti. At any rate, the semantics were irrelevant.

No one in Basin Street needed convincing. The only phrases that mattered on this night were melodic—jazzed, bluesy, heartbroken, hopeful—and all absolutely American. And the woman who could sing them all, from the classic phrasings of the standard popular songbook to adventurous melodies out on the rhythmic fringe, and everything in between—was about to seize the small, empty stage and claim the whole magical New York night as her very own. There was never a question that the show would go on. Even with the weather wreaking havoc, nothing could have waylaid the faithful. With delivery trucks banned from the streets, the club's publicist had enlisted local schoolkids to scour nearby grocery stores for all the provisions they could load onto their sleds. For this evening's show, the guests would feed on impromptu cuisine and fuel themselves on a more limited range than usual of their favorite cocktails—as if to prove the Richard Rodgers dictum that our need for melody is as strong as our need for sustenance. The club held 340 people, legally. On this occasion, it would accommodate nearly twice as many.

As the listeners shook off the snow and settled into the cramped confines, the low murmur of anticipation became a rising undercurrent. On this night, instead of the usual three shows, she'd be doing just one. This crowd would be hearing everything the woman had to offer. They were here because no one would dare miss any occasion to see the undisputed female champion of pop-jazz at the top of her game, in a city and time where beat and Beat were almost interchangeable. Down on Washington Square a handwritten sign stuck to a snow-covered fence read: "Be Abstract." But unlike Kerouac, Pollock, Ferlinghetti, and all of their friends in the avant-garde, Peggy Lee, on February 4, 1961, was not out on the fringe looking in, railing at the soullessness of it all.

After years of feeling herself the outsider, she had reached the top of her game and was finally enshrined inside the big room of fame where the lights burned late and her ballads and jazz and rhythm and blues spanning every emotion reached every kind of listener, from martinied-up suburban types to the visiting jazzmen and players who had come to pay homage, to tap the tiny tables as her informal accompaniment, nodding Yes. Yes. The roster of faces in the crowd during her four-week stint at Basin Street that winter would say all that had to be said about her peers' regard for her status in the pop pantheon. Making the pilgrimage to East Forty-eighth Street were Ray Charles and Count Basie, Ella Fitzgerald and Lena Horne, Marlene Dietrich and Judy Garland. (Garland once called Peggy her favorite girl singer.) Then there were Cary Grant, Jimmy Durante, Sammy Davis, Jr., Joan Crawford, Art Carney, Louis Armstrong, and a young arranger named Quincy Jones. (Tony Bennett called late one night after a gig in Detroit, hoping for a seat at the 2:30 a.m.

show.) None would have thought of missing out on this engagement, not at this time, in this era when popular jazz singing was not only a craft but an art of the highest order, a universal language that touched the hopes and longings of a generation of American dreamers. The crowd wasn't privy to her preshow rituals: first, the physical transformation from woman to Stage Presence. (One night in the elevator up to the hotel room where the singer would make up, do her hair, and don the gown, a stranger asked, "Are you Peggy Lee?" Her answer: "Not yet, I'm not.") Then came the hugging and kissing of the musicians, for good luck. Then the healthy slug of cognac, from a large glass, followed by a drink of cool water—not just for the rush of energy, but for the added release the alcohol brought, the little bit of extra freedom. For every show had to be special—they expected no less of her, and she demanded no less of herself. An element of unpredictability could only add to the mystery. She wanted to seduce them all. She wanted them to hear each word, and feel every emotion that lay behind it. She wanted perfection. She needed perfection.

Then, as the band set up out front, she said a quiet, intimate prayer behind the curtain. Now the musicians launched into the brassy intro: a medley comprising a few measures each of Peggy's standards, a signature string of great sounds—a snatch of a chorus from one of her original hits with Benny Goodman, a melody line from one of her own compositions from the forties, a measure of a memorable bridge from the glorious early fifties, a lilt from some recent swingy triumph. Then came the voice offstage: "Ladies and gentlemen, Basin Street East takes great pleasure in welcoming . . . Miss Peggy Lee." Behind the curtain, she'd let out a scream—just loud enough to start her own engine—and stamp her foot, once. Then she'd yank open the curtain and step into the light.

And there she was: an hourglassed platinum doll, forty years old, shrouded in a metaphoric glow, an aura she had earned, step by step, from her first, unlikely low-down blues hit for Goodman in 1942 to the hypnotic finger-snapping "Fever" a few years back—and a whole lot of everything in between: an Oscar nomination; a turn doing the voices for a couple of Siamese cats in a Disney animated feature; the mambo-and-sex-soaked "Lover," which made it to the top three on the charts. Not to mention Black Coffee, the jazz-vocal album that had raised the pop-jazz bar to unheard-of heights. But just as obvious as her celebrity on this night was her sensuality, a confection of cosmetics, jewelry, and hairstyle, of glance and wink and half smile, that spoke as much of illusion as it did of authentic female. Her appearance told more than a few half-truths. She was the image of glamour and independence, but there was something artificial about the strength she displayed beneath the lights, for with three failed marriages and another broken Hollywood romance already behind her, the music increasingly defined her whole world.

Her artistry had risen from a childhood without real family, and by now her audience and her public had become a very large part of what sustained her. Her nightclub theatricality was as spectacular as her art, but the elaborate gowns and masquerade could not conceal the vulnerability beneath. At this crossroads of her life she found her love in those who crowded the clubs from coast to coast. The applause had not yet died when she plunged into her opener, "Day In, Day Out," a rollicking jazz-infused arrangement of a Bloom-Mercer standard she'd recorded just that week, and immediately she had the place hooked. Her notes rushed and leaped, insistent, playing with the beat, moving behind it, shadowing it, toying with it. The horns swung a high-speed brassy subtext. The pace was breakneck; in their adrenaline rush to get the thing going, the band and the singer nearly outran themselves right out of the gate. The opening number was finished in a minute and forty-five seconds. "Thank you—thank you very much," she said—just breathily enough. A knowing smile passed across her lips and her eyes darted off to the side.

It was the coy, flirtatious expression that would ride her features all evening long, suggesting that something was being mysteriously withheld. She always kept some secrets behind the curtain, even when she insisted otherwise; even when she was exchanging giggles and laughing at double entendres and she and the crowd were meeting halfway, in perfect harmony; even when she confided about the cold she felt coming on: "See? I tell you everything." It was a ruse, though; she never confided more than just enough. The rest of this show fell into place exactly as she had choreographed it, song by song, so that the moods balanced perfectly between highs and lows, and every rhythm, every genre, had its say. "Call Me Darling" brought scattered laughter at the mention in the lyrics of the word "affair." "The Most Beautiful Man in the World" evoked a late-night-to-dawn jam, and she stretched the beat to mirror the flights of the band's solos. This much was constant: No matter what the rhythm of the song, her body moved as if being guided, as if the notes were caressing her. But there was no mistaking who was running the show.

Beneath all the artifice, beneath the glamorous mocha gown and the lacquered nails and the sequins that caught the glint of the lights, she was in complete control—of every note, of every pause. Her pianist and conductor Joe Harnell responded to a single lifted finger, to a single lifted eyebrow. Her bassist Max Bennett, entrusted with the beat, was on high alert to her every physical nuance. The multiple lighting cues in every song came neither a second too early nor a second too late. When she wove her way through the melancholy languor of Jimmy van Heusen and Sammy Cahn's "The Second Time Around"—one of the most lush and heartfelt of all her ballads, it sounded like a Shakespearean soliloquy—she was completely in the moment, measure by measure, tone by tone, syllable by syllable. So utterly given over to the song was she that to disturb the spell would have been to risk a fissure in the universe. By now, anyone who had begun the evening sitting back had unconsciously shimmied forward, hypnotized.

Her midsong pauses and silences brought an answering silence out in the room: not a knife scraped a plate, not a cigarette was stubbed out, not a chair was dragged, not even an inch. It would have been like coughing in church. Her rendition of "Fever" was liquid, all slow drips of honey; she brought the audience to her, entwined and entrapped it, note by note, with the gestures of a single hand, a single snap of the fingers against Bennett's thumping stand-up bass. Then she turned the room loose again with brassy, polytonal high jazz: Ellington's "I'm Gonna Go Fishin' " with the lyrics she'd written at Ellington's request. The music mounted and mounted, key change by key change, the horns going octave, the arrangement turning almost anarchic. But she would never lose sight of the melody. She never did.

Her tribute-medley of songs recorded by Ray Charles—a man for whom she held extraordinary admiration—offered a taste of everything, from the slow, sultry, dazzlingly cool "Just for a Thrill" to the galloping "I Got a Man" to a raucous, hip version of Sy Oliver's "Yes Indeed!" On this last one, with a wide smile on her face, she seemed to offer an affirmation of just about everything that this night, this world, this life could possibly have to offer. It was over as quickly as it began. The show spanned less than an hour and a half. The final ovation lasted for several minutes, and at last her audience reluctantly trudged out to the sidewalks, where they were met by horse-drawn sleds summoned by the club, the perfect finish to an evening of New York romance in an era that still believed in the possibility of enchantment. And she? Her night was hardly done. The music was over, leaving a space she would rush to fill. The late, late hours were those she would always call her own, and she would surround herself with company. She could never bear to be alone.

And so, again, picture another curious parade on another Basin Street evening, after one particular late show. Picture another odd assembly of souls, this time not out on the sidewalks but in a hallway of the luxurious Waldorf Towers apartments, outside her very own door. The elevator bell pinged, the doors slid open. Out spilled the singer and some of her friends: Cary Grant, Sammy Davis, Jr., Art Carney. But before she turned the key in the door, she indulged a sudden whim. She ordered them all to the floor. "Lie on your backs," she told them. "Now put your head on the stomach of the person lying next to you." And they did. "Now say 'Ha.' " "Ha," said one. "Ha, ha," said the next. And within seconds they'd convulsed in laughter. No doubt, had the elevator opened again, the sight would have been hard for a stranger to explain, this cluster of celebrities playing a Cheeveresque suburban-living-room party game—unless our observer understood that on this night, the woman in the beaded dress, after a lifetime of using her pain to create her art, was finally in command of her own universe, as well as ours.

During the two decades when popular music spoke a universal language, Peggy Lee's star blazed brightly. She sang the Great American Songbook, flavored by jazz and blues and swing and pop and bop and Latin and soul. The music and the culture would soon change, and when the lights finally dimmed, she would be increasingly lost in the darkness. But in a time when art still shaped our popular media, from writing to film to music, she reigned supreme. It was not a time, as now, when "popular" and "disposable" were interchangeable terms. It was a brief, never-to-be-revisited era when popular novels were also literary and enduring, when popular movies were crafted and inspired and lasting. When music had meaning and resonance. The cultural chaos and cacophony that have ensued have done much to obscure the soft brilliance of this particular past. But artistically, it was a golden age in America, and Peggy Lee was in its pantheon—not only as a singer but as a lyricist, and not only a lyricist but a lyricist whose poetry spoke worlds. A Peggy Lee lyric told a story, felt a feeling.

She was one of the first important female singer-songwriters, and several of her hits were her own compositions. Few other songstresses of the time could make such a claim. At the time of her Basin Street triumph, she'd had five recent albums in the top twenty, an annual salary ten times Mickey Mantle's, album sales of many millions. She was a given. She was an icon. She was a cultural emblem in a culture that had not yet radically changed. She wasn't one of our girls, like Rosemary Clooney or Dinah Shore or Patti Page or Doris Day; there was more richness to her, more complexity, more undercurrents that couldn't quite be controlled. Ella, of course, was widely held to rule the pop-jazz roost, but she was never quite able to bring a true broken-heart ballad to the depths of the soul that Peggy could. She wasn't Billie, or Sarah, or Anita—all of them brilliant in some ways, but limited in others. She had some of all of them in her, but she was a great deal more. She was singular.

No one occupied Peggy Lee's place, because only one woman could: platinum-pretty, but beholden to no one. Perky and bouncy, but genuinely soulful and world-weary, and resigned. Musically? She was possessed of nothing less than extraordinary intonation and perfect time—so much so that many of her musicians and collaborators regularly use the word "genius" to describe her innate musical skills. Her personality? Forever in discord. Born Norma Deloris Egstrom, a child of the Depression Great Plains, shy and insecure, she had gradually blossomed—on the surface—into another lady entirely. But the glittering, seductive façade only hid, never erased, the girl beneath, and it was the interplay of the two that produced the woman's art. "She had an image to uphold," the producer of one of her final albums says. "The dichotomy, I think, was between that girl in North Dakota who she never stopped being, and Miss Peggy Lee, whom she invented and became. Once I asked her if Norma Deloris Egstrom was still there in her. She said yes. I think that was the whole thing about Peggy Lee.

The dichotomy between the two." Peggy Lee was not in a class by herself. There were three others who shared her particular greatness. Armstrong, Crosby, Sinatra, Lee—these are the faces on the Mount Rushmore of American pop, the greatest generation of American music, singing at the height of an era when the American Songbook was the expression of the national heart and soul. Others sang the songs, of course—countless others, and often brilliantly—but these were the four who perfected an art form now lost to mainstream history—now filed, in a fringe wing of our cultural archives, under "popular jazz singing," which was one of American music's truest contributions. If jazz was our nation's invention, our absolutely original music, it was popular jazz singing whose lyrics and melodic sentiments reached us all and embodied America's dreams of romance, dreams we can no longer even imagine. Peggy and the three men who were truly her peers were the voices of our lost American innocence, of sweetness and gentleness, of longing and melancholy, but always of the rightness of things. They were the artists entrusted with expressing the yearnings and desires of an entire culture.

No less than that generation of distinctly American writers, they were given a mandate to tell a nation's tale. History has told us all we need to know about the three men, and more. Their legends live on not only because they lived in a time when men ran the legend-making machinery, but because each had extraordinary talents layered with an unforgettable image. Louis Armstrong brought jazz to the pop mainstream in a tempered manner and entertaining guise that, at the time, we could understand and easily accept from a black man. Bing Crosby brought the gift of a vocal instrument without equal, along with a paternal demeanor, to a country that once admired him more than any other man alive. And Sinatra brought a taste of solo swagger to his swing; as a man, his attitude could be countenanced and embraced and revered in the spirit of the Great American Individualist Pioneer. History has told us very little of the woman. The musicians know of her stature, of course. But when the music changed and rock altered the landscape, her art had difficulty adapting in the popular eye. Neither could her image adapt. And nor could she.

When our dreams died—our hopes for a house on the hill, our certainty that our train would always arrive to carry us forward to the next place, the place where we'd find what we were searching for—her dreams died, too. She grew old, and not always gracefully. For too many years, we forgot her and overlooked what she had achieved as an artist. Now it is time to remember, and celebrate, and enjoy anew, one of the greatest female singers of that American century, and the music that animated an entire land. It is time to come to know, for the first time, Miss Peggy Lee. Copyright © 2006 by Peter Richmond Related NPR Stories Appreciation: Peggy Lee Jan. 22, 2002 Web Resources PeggyLee.com - Biography - Encyclopedia of Popular Music The Encyclopedia of Popular Music Edited by Colin Larkin; Muze Inc., 1998 Lee, Peggy  born Norma Deloris Egstrom, 26 May 1920, Jamestown, North Dakota, USA. Lee is of Scandinavian descent, her grandparents being Swedish and Norwegian immigrants.

She endured a difficult childhood and her mother died when she was four; when her father remarried she experienced a decidedly unpleasant relationship with her stepmother. Her father took to drink, and at the age of 14 she found herself carrying out his duties at the local railroad depot. Despite these and other hardships, she sang frequently and appeared on a local radio station. She took a job as a waitress in Fargo, where the manager of the radio station changed her name to Peggy Lee. In 1937, she took a trip to California to try her luck there but soon returned to Fargo. Another California visit was equally unsuccessful and then she tried Chicago where, in 1941, as a member of a vocal group, The Four of Us, she was hired to sing at the Ambassador West Hotel. During this engagement she was heard by Mel Powell, who invited Benny Goodman to hear her. Goodmans regular singer, Helen Forrest, was about to leave and Lee was hired as her replacement. She joined the band for an engagement at the College Inn and within a few days sang on a record date. A song from the period, "Elmers Tune," was a huge success.

Among other popular recordings she made with Goodman were "How Deep Is the Ocean?," "How Long Has This Been Going On?," "My Old Flame," and "Why Dont You Do Right?." Later, Lee married Goodmans guitarist, Dave Barbour. After she left Goodmans band in 1943, she had more successful records, including "That Old Feeling" and three songs of which she was co-composer with Barbour, "Its a Good Day," "I Dont Know Enough About You," and "Maï¿½ana." She also performed on radio with Bing Crosby. In the [late 1940s and early] 1950s she made several popular recordings for Capitol, the orchestral backings for many of which were arranged and conducted by Barbour. Her 1958 hit single "Fever" was also a collaboration with Barbour [sic]. Her "Black Coffee" album of 1953 was particularly successful, as was "Beauty and the Beat" a few years later. On these and other albums of the period, Lee was often accompanied by jazz musicians, including Jimmy Rowles, Marty Paich and George Shearing.

Lee was also active in films, performing the title song of "Johnny Guitar" (1954), and writing songs for others including "Tom Thumb" (1958). She also made a number of on-screen appearances in acting roles, including "The Jazz Singer" (1953), and for one, "Pete Kellys Blues" (1955), she was nominated for an Academy Award as Best Supporting Actress. However, her most lasting fame in films lies in her off-screen work on Walt Disneys "Lady and the Tramp," for which Lee wrote the song "Hes a Tramp" and provided the voice for the characters of Peg, the Siamese cats, and one other on-screen feline. Her recording successes continued throughout the period even if, on some occasions, she had to fight to persuade Capitol to record them. One such argument surrounded "Lover," which executives felt would compete directly with the labels then popular version by Les Paul. Lee won out [sic; she left Capitol for Decca] and her performance of her own arrangement, played by a studio orchestra under the direction of Gordon Jenkins, was a sensation.

Towards the end of the 1950s, the intense level of work began to take its toll and she suffered a period of illness. Throughout the 1960s and succeeding decades Lee performed extensively, singing at concerts and on television and, of course, making records, despite being frequently plagued with poor health. Her voice is light with a delicate huskiness, offering intriguing contrasts with the large orchestral accompaniment that is usually a part of a Lee performance. Over the years her repeated use of previously successful settings for songs has tended to make her shows predictable, but she remains a dedicated perfectionist in everything that she does. In the early 1980s she attempted a [Broadway] stage show, "Peg," but it proved unpopular and closed quickly. In the late 1980s she again suffered ill health and on some of her live performances her voice was starting to betray the ravages of time. For her many fans, it did not seem to matter: to paraphrase the title of one of her songs, they just loved being there with Peg.

In 1992, wheelchair-bound for the previous two years, Lee was persisting in a lawsuit, begun in 1987, against the Walt Disney Corporation for her share of the video profits from "Lady and the Tramp." A year later, dissatisfied with the "paltry" ï¿½2 million settlement for her six songs (written with Sonny Burke) and character voices, she was preparing to write a book about the whole affair. Meanwhile, she continued to make occasional cabaret appearances at New York venues such as Club 53. In 1993 she recorded a duet with Gilbert OSullivan for his album "Sounds of the Loop." Lee is one of the greatest "classy" vocalists of the century, alongside such artists as Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday, Sarah Vaughan and Betty Carter. Peggy Lee - New Songs, Playlists & Latest News - BBC Music Read more about sharing. Peggy Lee Biography (BBC) From the time of her early 1940s hit 'Why Don't You Do Right?' Lee managed to create an individual approach to each and every song.

She was born Norma Deloris Egstrom but changed her name to Peggy Lee whilst working as a teenage singer on a local radio station in Fargo, North Dakota. She had a traumatic upbringing, and moved home frequently, but she began singing around the Jamestown area with Doc Haines' Orchestra, later joining the big bands of Sev Olson and Will Osborne. While she was singing in a vocal quartet at the Ambassador West in Chicago, Benny Goodman hired her to sing with his band for two years from 1941, recording a string of popular hits including 'I Got It Bad and That Ain't Good' and the chart-topping 'Somebody Else is Taking My Place'. Her film debut was with Goodman, singing 'Why Don't You Do Right?' in the movie 'Stage Door Canteen' (1943). She married Goodman's guitarist, Dave Barbour, and after a temporary retirement from music, Lee began to produce a sequence of impressive and popular songs, including 'Golden Earrings', 'It's a Good Day' and 'Manana'. She recorded albums with Nelson Riddle who had successfully backed Ella Fitzgerald and Frank Sinatra.

On screen she made 'Mr Music' (1950), 'The Jazz Singer' (1953), and 'Pete Kelly's Blues' (1955) for which she won an Oscar nomination as Best Supporting Actress for her alcoholic nightclub singer in the midst of a breakdown. For 'Lady and The Tramp', she wrote several songs in addition to providing voices (sung and spoken) for four cartoon characters. She had her greatest hit with the world-weary 'Is That All There Is?' From the 1970s onwards her public appearances were interspersed with bouts of illness, and she tended to appear wrapped in scarves and wearing dark glasses. Although she has had no hit records since the 1960s, she remained an influential force on generations of jazz singers until her death in 2002. Peggy Lee Biography (Wikipedia) Peggy Lee (born Norma Deloris Egstrom; May 26, 1920 – January 21, 2002) was an American jazz and popular music singer, songwriter, composer, and actress, in a career spanning six decades.

From her beginning as a vocalist on local radio to singing with Benny Goodman's big band, she forged a sophisticated persona, evolving into a multi-faceted artist and performer. During her career, she wrote music for films, acted, and recorded conceptual record albums that combined poetry and music. This entry is from Wikipedia , the user-contributed encyclopedia. It may not have been reviewed by professional editors and is licensed under an Attribution-ShareAlike Creative Commons License . If you find the biography content factually incorrect or highly offensive you can edit this article at Wikipedia . Find out more about our use of this data. Show more Fever by Peggy Lee Songfacts Fever by Peggy Lee Songfacts Songfacts This tale of passionate love was originally recorded by a singer named Little Willie John. In 1937, he was born William Edgar John in Arkansas. He was one of the first R&B singers, fairly popular in the late '50s and early '60s. Although he was a major influence on Soul singers of the '60s, he remains relatively unknown today. His nickname came from his slight height - he was only 5'4".

After stabbing a man to death, he was jailed for manslaughter and died in prison when he was only 30 years old. The cause of his death is disputed - with reasons given ranging from a heart attack, pneumonia, asphyxiation, or as the result of beatings received in prison. His songs have been covered by many artists - The Beatles recorded "Leave My Kitten Alone" for the Beatles for Sale sessions, but never released it (It did appear on their Anthology 1 cd-set). Little Willie John was posthumously inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 1996. There is some controversy over who wrote this, but according to Otis Blackwell, he wrote it with Eddie Cooley. Otis Blackwell was a singer/songwriter/pianist, but most well-known for his songwriting. Some famous songs he wrote/co-wrote are "Don't Be Cruel," "Great Balls of Fire," and "All Shook Up." Cooley was a songwriting partner on many of his songs, and accordingto Blackwell, they had an agreement that Cooley would split his weekly paycheck as a jeweler with him.

They would pen songs together and Blackwell would go to New York City to "hustle" them. Blackwell had this credited to the name John Davenport (his stepfather) because he was under contract at RCA and was concerned he wouldn't get royalties for it. Blackwell said in an interview that Little Willie John didn't want to record this at first because he didn't like the finger snapping. Peggy Lee recorded the most famous version of this song. She was born Norma Deloris Egstrom on May 26, 1920 in Jamestown, North Dakota. Her break came when she was discovered by bandleader Benny Goodman. Lee was a Blues-influenced Jazz singer and also a songwriter, with such hits as the songs from Disney's Lady and the Tramp, in which she also sang and voiced a few characters. A triple-threat of her day, she was also an actress with a role in a remake of The Jazz Singer and was nominated for an Oscar for her role as an alcoholic Blues singer in Pete Kelly's Blues. Many artists, both male and female, have recorded this. Notable covers include Elvis, Tom Jones and Madonna.

>> Suggestion credit: Crystal - Springfield, MO, for all above The trade charts were so distorted in the 1950s that even though Willie John's original version, (which made #24 in the US) trailed Peggy Lee's, it outsold hers by 2 to 1.

Question: Under what name did singer Norma Egstrom achieve fame?
Answer: PEGGY LEE