Video: Little Miss Sunshine makes a comeback, at 86, with Grover Kemble at The Minstrel in Morris Township

Let’s cut right to the chase. Naomi Sunshine is her real name and she sings great at 86.

What’s her secret?

“Sex,” Naomi says. “I can still remember it!”

In her heyday, she recorded backup vocals for Sinatra. Is Frank the, ahem, conquest that burns so brightly in her memory?

“Of course,” she replies. “It was in my contract.”

Ba-dum-dum!

Naomi, who lives in Middlesex County, made a comeback on Oct. 14 at The Minstrel in Morris Township, accompanied by local jazz favorite Grover Kemble.

She had heard Grover on a recording with John Pizzarelli and remarked to her daughter, Amy Sunshine, that she would like to catch this guy in concert sometime.

Amy and her brother Norman went one better. For their mom’s 86th birthday, they coaxed a “pretty skeptical” Grover to come ’round with his guitar and sing with Naomi. Just for an hour.

“The first time he came, he stayed for six hours,” says Amy, a health writer from Denville. “They started working up an act.”

Grover, a founder of the popular swing band Za Zu Zaz, has seen the light. Specifically, the Sunshine.

“I’m telling you, she’s good,” he says, comparing Naomi to the late Alberta Hunter. “She understands jazz. She can even do scat.”

Naomi began singing with the Charlie Spivak orchestra in the 1940s, and with groups such as the Stardusters and the Aristocats. She recorded backups for Mel Tormé, and for Billie Holliday.

“She came in looped and high as a kite. But she laid down a couple of tracks that were absolutely terrific,” recalls Naomi.

And the Chairman of the Board?

“He was gorgeous,” Naomi says. “I was breathless.”

Sinatra brought his entourage into the studio to watch the recording session. Naomi and three other singers flanked the star; they all shared one microphone in those days. Halfway through the take, Naomi messed up. Sinatra stopped the recording.

“‘I goofed,'” Frank fibbed to the musicians.

“He took the blame,” Naomi recounts. “He was a gentleman. The rest of the recording went on flawlessly.”

What sets apart the great ones, Naomi says, is their distinctive “instruments”–their voices.

“When you hear Ella Fitzgerald’s voice, you know it’s her instantly,” she says. And the legends all share a passion for their craft.

“That’s the way Grover is–he’s so passionate about his music, and he’s so effortlessly good. That’s what keeps him going,” says Naomi.

She concedes that she’s not crazy about rap; not enough melody for her taste.  “You can’t leave the theater humming the scenery,” she cracks. She is warming to the Beatles, however.

“They’re young enough to keep getting married. That’s a good thing,” she says, referring to Sir Paul’s latest nuptials.

Naomi’s husband, sex therapist Mort Sunshine (you just can’t make this stuff up), died in 1990.

For the Minstrel show, Naomi and Grover worked up some jazz standards, something Naomi always wanted to try. She has kept her instrument in shape by skipping booze and hitting the treadmill and exercise bike. Luck and good genes don’t hurt, either. And practice makes perfect.

“I’ve never given up singing, never given myself a chance to stop and become rusty,” she says. “At least I’m breathing my last in tune!”

There’s one more mountain to climb. One legend is conspicuously absent from her discography.

“Tony Bennett is still working, and he’s only a little younger than I am,” Naomi says. “Boy, what I would give to sing with him.”

So if you’re reading this, Tony, take it from us. Little Miss Sunshine is ready for your next album of duets.

Break a leg, Naomi!

“Don’t ever say that to an elderly person!” she shoots back.