1장
A Star Rises from Brooklyn's Streets
Barbra Streisand's journey from an "amiable anteater" to one of the most influential voices in entertainment history is a testament to unwavering self-belief in the face of constant doubt. Born with what she describes as "a good voice" and something about her looks that "intrigued people (or annoyed them)," Streisand's rise to stardom wasn't predestined but hard-won through sheer determination. Critics compared her to everything from "a sour persimmon" to "a Babylonian queen," yet none of these descriptions captured her essence. Despite her global fame, she remains surprisingly grounded, often forgetting her celebrity status while gardening or painting with her son. The cultural impact of her work is immeasurable - her albums have influenced generations, her films have broken barriers for women in the industry, and her distinctive voice has become instantly recognizable worldwide. What makes her story particularly compelling is that beneath the extraordinary talent lies a woman who describes herself as "rather ordinary" - someone who simply refused to accept the limitations others tried to impose on her.
2장
Childhood Shadows: The Making of an Artist
The foundation of Barbra Streisand's complex personality was laid in early childhood through profound loss and emotional neglect. At just fifteen months old, she lost her father Emanuel, a brilliant educator and scholar whose absence would haunt her throughout life. "After his death, we moved in with my grandparents in their tiny one-bedroom apartment. I shared a bed with my mother while my brother slept on a cot," she recalls. This cramped living arrangement was just the beginning of a childhood marked by emotional deprivation.
When her mother Diana remarried Louis Kind, eight-year-old Barbra found herself living with a stepfather who showed no interest in her existence. "I even tried calling him 'Dad' and bringing his slippers, but nothing worked," she remembers. This rejection taught her a pivotal lesson: "That's when I decided I would never lower myself for any man." Her mother, overwhelmed with her own struggles, offered little emotional support. When Barbra asked years later why her mother never showed affection, she received the devastating response: "I didn't have time."
This emotional vacuum created a child who was simultaneously vulnerable and fiercely independent. By age ten, she was smoking cigarettes and teaching her mother how to smoke properly. With no rules or discipline, she developed psychosomatic illnesses and built emotional walls after realizing nobody would protect her. Her tinnitus-constant ringing in the ears-went unaddressed after her mother dismissed the complaint.
These early experiences shaped Streisand's artistic sensibilities in profound ways. Her attraction to tragic love stories and characters who don't end up together allowed her to process her own pain. "Their tragedy, loss, and missed opportunities allowed me to cry in the darkness of the theater," she explains. This ability to channel personal suffering into artistic expression would become her signature as a performer-creating deeply emotional interpretations that resonated with audiences precisely because they came from an authentic place of experienced pain.
3장
Finding Her Voice: Early Artistic Development
At fourteen, Streisand's artistic awakening began with a transformative experience watching "The Diary of Anne Frank" on Broadway. Sitting in the back balcony for $1.89, she had an epiphany: "Anne is fourteen; I'm Jewish; why couldn't I play the part?" This moment sparked weekly Broadway pilgrimages with her friend Anita Sussman, where Barbra gravitated toward serious dramas over musicals, absorbing theatrical techniques that would later define her performance style.
Though Erasmus Hall High School offered no acting classes, Streisand pursued theatrical education with remarkable determination. She read Stanislavsky's entire acting method trilogy, rescued her late father's complete works of Shakespeare from the basement, and began attending William Hickey's acting classes in Manhattan. When those proved unsatisfying, she found a mentor in Allan Miller, who taught her acting in exchange for babysitting his son Gregory. "I absorbed everything like a sponge, feeling more alive in acting class than anywhere else," she recalls.
In Miller's class, Streisand discovered her creative voice through unconventional exercises. For one assignment, she became a chocolate chip cookie-"first kneaded in dough, then melting in agony in the oven." Her approach to playing a sexually inexperienced girl attracted to a boy revealed her instinctive genius: rather than attempting to be sexy, she explored innocent physical contact-"entwining fingers, standing on his feet like a child dancing with her father, touching his face as if blind to experience the stubble of his beard." With her eyes closed to intensify sensations, she created an authentically awkward yet deeply moving performance that had her classmate blushing furiously and the class applauding.
Despite her youth, Streisand fearlessly tackled challenging roles like Medea, connecting deeply with complex explorations of womanhood. This led to an audition for the prestigious Actors Studio. Though rejected with encouragement to try again when older, she remained undeterred, writing unsent letters to Lee Strasberg articulating her acting discoveries, including what she called "the something in nothing"-how simplicity and truth create powerful performances. This early artistic philosophy would guide her entire career, as she consistently chose emotional authenticity over technical showmanship.
4장
The Bon Soir: A Star Emerges
Barbra Streisand's transformation from acting student to professional singer happened almost accidentally. Her friend Barry Dennen introduced her to recordings of 1930s and '40s Broadway songs-Lee Wiley, Ruth Etting, Helen Morgan-that resonated deeply with her storytelling instincts. When Barry mentioned a talent contest at the Lion, a club across from his apartment, Streisand decided to enter despite never having performed publicly as a singer. Her friends Cis and Harvey Corman were shocked-they'd never even heard her hum. She sang "A Sleepin' Bee" for them facing the wall, too embarrassed to look at them, and turned around to find them both in tears.
In June 1960, eighteen-year-old Streisand entered the contest at the Lion, not realizing until she arrived that it was a gay bar. Standing beside the piano player, she closed her eyes and sang "A Sleepin' Bee" very quietly until the last line, when she held a high note on "love." After a moment of silence, the room burst into applause. She won the contest and was invited to perform a couple of nights a week, with all the London broil she could eat.
This led to an audition at the more sophisticated Bon Soir on Eighth Street. Walking to her audition in a simple black dress with an antique Persian vest, she had a premonition: "This night could change my life." After headliner Larry Storch's show, she was introduced as a "little surprise." For the first time, she felt a spotlight on her face-warm and comforting. The light blinded her to the audience, allowing her to concentrate on acting through "A Sleepin' Bee." When she hit and held the high note on "love," people began clapping. After finishing to extended applause, she awkwardly bowed like "some sort of Tibetan monk."
Larry Storch grabbed her arm afterward saying, "Kid, you're gonna be a star!" She suddenly had a contract to sing at the Bon Soir-$125 a week for a two-week engagement starting in September. Critics raved: "A startlingly young, stylish and vibrant-voiced gamin" and "the find of the year." Her two-week booking extended to eleven weeks as she developed her unique style, improvising between songs and discovering her comedic timing.
Streisand approached each performance like creating a miniature play, standing silently as the introduction music played before opening with ballads like "Much More" from The Fantasticks. She believed the first moments onstage were too important for up-tempo songs. Through songs like "Right as the Rain" and "Nobody's Heart Belongs to Me," she played complex emotional characters, creating dramatic arcs by combining songs like Harold Arlen's "Like a Straw in the Wind" with "Anyplace I Hang My Hat Is Home," shifting between emotions from languid sadness to defiance. In forty-five minutes, she transformed into a dozen different characters-a one-woman repertory company.
5장
Broadway Breakthrough: Funny Girl and Beyond
When Barbra Streisand first auditioned for the role of Miss Marmelstein in "I Can Get It for You Wholesale," she made an unforgettable impression. Wearing her beloved 1930s karakul coat with fox trim, she corrected the producers' pronunciation of her name and unpacked a shopping bag of snacks before letting her accordion-folded sheet music trail behind her for comic effect. After singing "Value," she was asked for a ballad and performed "Have I Stayed Too Long at the Fair," completely losing herself in the performance. Jerome Weidman later described it as "a moment of revealed truth." When asked to return later for producer David Merrick, she initially refused because she needed to get her hair done for her Blue Angel opening that night.
During rehearsals for "Wholesale," Streisand constantly battled with director Arthur Laurents over her "Miss Marmelstein" number. She insisted on performing it sitting in a chair, rolling to the footlights with her feet paddling like a duck-an approach she felt was right for the character. Unlike most young actresses grateful for their first Broadway role, she challenged authority. At the Philadelphia dress rehearsal, desperate and contemplating quitting, she made one final plea: "Please let me try it in my chair." Arthur, completely frustrated, finally snapped, "Okay! Do it in your goddamn chair!!!" Opening night, she performed it her way and stopped the show.
This pattern of creative conflict continued throughout her Broadway run in "Funny Girl." The show's director Jerry Robbins was brilliant but demanding, taking apart and rebuilding the production during previews. Unlike Laurents, however, Robbins understood Streisand's need to stay in the moment, allowing her freedom rather than boxing her in. The show opened to rave reviews, with critics calling her "magnificent, sublime, radiant." Within a week of opening, she was on the cover of Time magazine, then Life.
Despite her success, Streisand struggled with the repetitive nature of Broadway performances. "I was facing the reality that I'd have to perform the same show every night for eighteen months, which felt like a prison sentence," she confessed. This tension between perfectionism and boredom would characterize her relationship with live performance throughout her career. She worked hardest for appreciative audiences but held back from negative ones, understanding that "audiences are collectively brilliant at sensing authenticity."
Her relationship with Sydney Chaplin, who played Nick Arnstein, deteriorated over the course of the run. His unprofessional behavior included refusing to follow choreography and declaring he was "tired of doing the show her way." After enduring his sabotage for over a year, Streisand finally threatened "It's him or me," leading to his replacement by Johnny Desmond. This traumatic experience contributed to her eventual departure from Broadway, despite being the star of a hit show.
6장
Recording Artist: Finding Her Sound
Barbra Streisand's recording career began with resistance from the industry establishment. Despite her Broadway success in "I Can Get It for You Wholesale," Columbia Records executive Goddard Lieberson initially rejected her, believing her voice was "too Broadway" for mainstream America. Columbia's John Hammond was similarly opposed to signing her. Nevertheless, Lieberson invited her to sing on a 25th anniversary album of Harold Rome's "Pins and Needles," paying her $200 with no royalties.
To increase her visibility, Streisand appeared on "The Garry Moore Show," where she first performed "Happy Days Are Here Again" as a slow, ironic ballad-transforming it from an upbeat tune into a character piece about a wealthy woman who lost everything in the 1929 crash. By May, she had returned to the Bon Soir as the headliner with her salary jumping from $175 to $1,250 weekly. Finally, Goddard changed his mind and offered her a contract. She signed with Columbia Records on October 1, 1962, and two weeks later recorded her first single, "Happy Days Are Here Again."
Marty Erlichman, her manager, negotiated an unprecedented contract giving her creative control rather than more money upfront-she could choose her songs and reject albums she didn't like. This artistic freedom would prove crucial to her development as a recording artist. For her first album, she sought out Harold Arlen's arranger, Peter Matz, whose sophisticated arrangements complemented her dramatic interpretations. "What I loved most was how he listened to lyrics as well as music, teasing out every nuance as I did," she explains. His arrangements were unusual yet distinctive, showing off her voice while building on the drama of each lyric.
They recorded the entire album in just three days at the end of January 1963-unbelievable by today's standards. "We simply chose the best take, even with occasional flaws, as we couldn't fix them back then," she recalls. Recording used only three tracks-one for vocals and two for orchestra-with no ability to edit once laid down. This approach created an intensity and authenticity that would become her trademark.
Streisand's approach to songs was deeply dramatic. For "Cry Me a River," she portrayed an angry, jilted girl whose emotions couldn't stay in rhythm, interpreting it differently than Julie London's soft, sultry version. For "Happy Days Are Here Again," her concept reflected her fear during the Cuban Missile Crisis. Despite her self-doubt, the album won Grammy Awards for Album of the Year and Best Female Vocal Performance.
As her career progressed, she continued to balance artistic interests against commercial pressures. Working with producer Richard Perry on her album "Stoney End," she embraced contemporary sounds through songs by Joni Mitchell, Harry Nilsson, and Randy Newman. When it hit number one in Los Angeles, she had proven she could change with the times. This adaptability would characterize her recording career, allowing her to remain relevant across six decades.
7장
Director's Vision: Breaking Hollywood Barriers
After years of being directed by others, Barbra Streisand's transition to directing came from both artistic necessity and personal determination. Her fifteen-year journey to bring "Yentl" to the screen began in 1968 when she received Isaac Bashevis Singer's short story "Yentl the Yeshiva Boy." The tale of a young Jewish woman in nineteenth-century Poland who disguises herself as a man to study Torah resonated deeply with her. The first four words-"After her father's death"-made her heart skip, connecting to her own loss.
Studio executives were uninterested: "Who?" they'd ask about Singer. "What?" they'd respond about the Talmud. Though Streisand knew "Yentl" wasn't commercial, to her it was a universal story about wanting something you can't have. The executives couldn't see beyond the Jewish context to the larger theme of gender equality. As she perceived it, "They were concerned about drawing attention to Jewish culture, which they considered too 'different, alien.'"
When no one would greenlight the project with her as director, she took matters into her own hands. "I'm going to make this movie no matter what!" she declared. She dressed as a man one night and walked into her house unrecognized, proving to her partner Jon Peters she could pull it off. After an extraordinary spiritual experience involving a medium who seemingly contacted her father, she became even more determined. Reading her father's academic papers afterward, she felt deeply connected to him. Then came an astonishing coincidence: the tombstone next to her father's bore the name "Anshel"-the same uncommon name Yentl adopts when disguising herself as a man.
Her directorial approach was meticulous and research-driven. She immersed herself in Polish Jewish culture, consulted with rabbis from different traditions, and even began studying Talmud to understand what yeshiva students experienced. With lyricists Marilyn and Alan Bergman and composer Michel Legrand, she developed a unique concept-Yentl would only sing in voice-over, expressing private thoughts that couldn't be spoken aloud while disguised as a man. Only when alone or finally liberated could she sing out loud.
Filming in Czechoslovakia presented enormous challenges. The weather turned violent during the final boat sequence-150 extras became seasick, equipment slid across the deck, and a crew member was injured. Disaster struck again when they discovered condensation had ruined their previous day's footage. For the finale, Streisand had to lip-sync while balancing on a rocking boat with a helicopter hovering dangerously close. "I HAD to get that shot!" she insisted, persevering through terrifying conditions.
Despite critical recognition including Golden Globe wins for Best Director and Best Motion Picture, the film was ignored for Best Director at the Academy Awards. Streisand noticed a chill from other directors who seemed unhappy she'd joined their club-not one asked about "Yentl" at industry parties. Even female directors seemed territorial, not understanding that "as more women rise, the ladder expands."
This experience revealed the sexism inherent in Hollywood. Streisand observed male directors showing films to each other without anyone suggesting they needed help, while a woman doing the same was seen as needing rescue. "It's one thing to dislike my work, but another to question my authorship," she reflects. This vulnerability is why she didn't direct another film for eight years.
8장
The Power of Connection: Relationships and Collaborations
Throughout her career, Barbra Streisand's artistic growth has been profoundly influenced by her personal relationships. Her early romance with Elliott Gould during "Funny Girl" provided crucial emotional support during her Broadway debut. Their connection began innocently-playing penny arcade games and eating Chinese food after rehearsals-before unexpectedly deepening. "My feelings shifted when I noticed the back of his neck one day, suddenly seeing him as attractive," she recalls. Though they married and had a son, Jason, their relationship couldn't withstand the pressures of her growing fame and his gambling problems.
Streisand's most creatively stimulating relationships often blended professional collaboration with personal connection. Working with Stephen Sondheim on "The Broadway Album" evolved into a deep artistic partnership. When she asked him to rewrite lyrics for "Putting It Together" to reflect her struggles with the recording industry, he not only agreed but embraced the challenge. Their collaboration extended to restructuring "Send in the Clowns" and expanding "Children Will Listen" with additional verses specifically for her. Their connection may have stemmed from similar childhoods with emotionally withholding mothers.
Her relationship with Marlon Brando revealed another dimension of her personality. Their first meaningful conversation at Leslie Caron's party lasted four hours as they discussed their deepest wounds. "We discovered many commonalities-neither of us gossiped about friends, both felt unseen by parents," she explains. Brando recognized something in her that others missed, predicting her marriage to Elliott wouldn't last with remarkable insight. Their connection continued over decades, with Brando once telling her: "In the last moment of 'The Way We Were,' you were so vulnerable that I fell in love with you all over again. We should have done more when we were younger."
Perhaps her most significant relationship has been with James Brolin, whom she married in 1998 after meeting at a dinner party. Their connection was immediate-talking for hours about everything from architecture to relationships, ignoring everyone else. Despite her natural tendency toward caution in relationships, Brolin's directness, thoughtfulness, and emotional openness gradually won her over. "His accommodating nature makes me feel deeply loved-always willing to do whatever I want," she shares. One night as they were spooning in bed, he whispered something unforgettable: "I don't want to fall asleep... 'cause I'll miss you."
Through these relationships, Streisand has gradually learned to balance her fierce independence with emotional vulnerability. After years of putting work first, she rearranged her priorities to spend more time with Jim. "Perhaps you need to be happy with yourself before you can be happy with someone else," she reflects. This evolution from the wounded child who built emotional walls to protect herself to a woman capable of deep connection represents one of her most significant personal achievements.
9장
Political Voice: Artist as Citizen
Barbra Streisand's political awakening came dramatically in April 1986 when the Chernobyl nuclear disaster shocked the world. "When radiation from the Soviet reactor was detected as far away as Sweden, I was horrified by the implications," she recalls. This catastrophe crystallized her fears about nuclear weapons and environmental threats, prompting her to call Marilyn Bergman, lamenting, "What can we do?" Bergman's practical answer-"Elect more people who share our views"-led Streisand to give her first fundraising concert in nearly twenty years, despite her stage fright.
Working with the Hollywood Women's Political Committee, she focused on supporting six Democratic senatorial candidates who shared her environmental concerns. The concert in her own backyard raised $1.5 million-the largest amount ever from a one-night performance in California's history. Five of their six candidates won, giving Democrats control of the Senate for the first time since 1980. This success taught her that performers have unique influence: "When we raise our voices, we can be heard."
Her political engagement deepened through her friendship with President Bill Clinton. Having a president who was actually her friend gave her the confidence to ask questions about issues like crime prevention, defense spending, and environmental policy. "I'd jot down questions about funding crime prevention programs, reducing the defense budget, and his BTU tax proposal for energy conservation," she explains. Looking back, she realizes she had "a lot of nerve" posing these questions, but was trying to make up for her limited civics education.
Streisand's activism extended beyond partisan politics to social issues, particularly through her television production company. She produced films addressing homosexuals in the military ("Serving in Silence"), Gentiles rescuing Jews during the Holocaust ("Rescuers: Stories of Courage"), lesbian parenthood ("What Makes a Family"), gun control advocacy ("The Long Island Incident"), and forgotten female film pioneers ("Reel Models: The First Women of Film"). These projects reflected her belief that artists serve as society's conscience.
In her 1994 speech at Harvard's Kennedy School of Government, she articulated her philosophy: "Until women are treated equally with men, until gays and minorities are not discriminated against, and until children have their full rights, artists must continue to speak out. I will be one of them." She established the Barbra Streisand Foundation to support nuclear disarmament, environmental causes, women's rights, civil rights, and human rights.
Her commitment to women's health led her to establish the Barbra Streisand Women's Heart Center after learning that heart disease kills more women than men, yet nearly all research had been done on men. She lobbied Congress for research funding and raised public awareness about "the Yentl Syndrome"-when women with heart attacks are misdiagnosed because their symptoms differ from men's. These efforts contributed to women's heart disease deaths decreasing from one in three to one in four. As she proudly notes, "This is how change happens-when women work together and speak up."
10장
Legacy and Reflection: A Life in Full Circle
As Barbra Streisand looks back on her extraordinary journey from Brooklyn's Pulaski Street to international stardom, she recognizes the profound truth that "nothing is impossible." Despite her unconventional looks and background, she forged ahead with singular focus against all naysayers. Her career spans over six decades, making her the only artist with number one albums in six consecutive decades-an achievement that speaks to her remarkable ability to evolve while maintaining her authentic voice.
Throughout her memoir, Streisand returns to the theme of her father's absence and how it shaped her life. "I can only make films about deeply personal subjects," she explains. In "Yentl," she created a father figure named Mendel (the Hebrew version of Emanuel) in the image of her own father. Through directing, she learned she had to "be my own father" rather than looking for a man to save her. This quest for paternal figures appears throughout her life-from her friendship with Shimon Peres, whom she describes as having "my father's kindness, empathy, and dignity," to her relationship with Warner Bros. executive Steve Ross, who became "the father figure I'd always imagined my own father would have been."
Her relationship with her mother remained complicated until the end. When Diana was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, Streisand observed that though conversation became impossible, "she could still remember melodies-showing the power of music to burrow deep into your soul." After her mother's death, Streisand received an extraordinary gift-an unfinished painting commissioned by her mother in the 1980s showing Barbra as an adult with a sketch of her father above her. With it came revelations about her parents' relationship: her mother was jealous of her father's attention to her, and felt Barbra was "too much" for her. Reading that her mother was sorry she never told her how proud she was brought tears to her eyes. "I understood that my mother did love me, in her way."
Now in her eighties, Streisand has found peace and fulfillment. Her marriage to James Brolin has given her "the ultimate gift-a family with grandchildren to spoil." As "Gamma" to Westlyn, Chapel, and Sol, she cherishes every moment with them. Her son Jason has become "a mensch-smart, thoughtful, kind and honest," sharing her creative sensibilities through music, pottery and art. She's even found healing through her friendship with Bill Clinton's mother Virginia, who embodied the maternal warmth she never received from her own mother, signing notes "To my sweet wonderful daughter, my Barbra."
Reflecting on her artistic legacy, Streisand remains her own harshest critic. "Looking back, I've only made nineteen movies while contemporaries have done fifty or more," she notes. Yet her selective approach has yielded an extraordinary body of work spanning music, film, theater, and directing. Her perfectionism-often labeled as "difficult" by the industry-stemmed from her vision and desire for control to ensure that vision wasn't diluted. "Every good director has a vision, every artist wants control," she asserts.
As she contemplates the future, Streisand embraces a new lightness: "I want to go where the wind takes me, to be light enough to let it bring me where I should go." After decades of driving herself relentlessly, she's ready to relax and enjoy life's simple pleasures. "Here's to life, to dreamers and their dreams," she concludes. "I truly am one of the luckiest people in the world."
