The New York Times
Behind every monstrous ego, of course, is a small, trembling, damaged one. And Schwartz's somber new memoir -- with its blandly upbeat title, All in Good Time -- explains a lot about what made him the way he is. Spare, elegantly written and scrupulously free of pomposity, it's hardly recognizable as the work of the man on the radio. — James Gavin
The New Yorker
New Yorkers of a certain age are familiar with the plummy and erudite voice of Jonathan Schwartz, radio’s champion of the golden age of American song and Frank Sinatra’s most passionate advocate. He is also the son of Arthur Schwartz, the composer of “By Myself,” “Dancing in the Dark,” and other pages in the songbook. The son’s warm but intensely painful memoir of growing up lonely in rarefied company, of discovering an identity for himself and encountering idols like Sinatra, is engaging and original. Schwartz has published novels and, on the radio, he is an intimate storyteller; the narrative here is strangely unforgettable, like a haunting ballad heard in the middle of the night.
Publishers Weekly
Fans of Schwartz, a fixture of New York-area radio, will instantly recognize his voice resonating through each page of this memoir, especially in the ironic downbeats on which many of his mininarratives end. As might be expected from the son of Broadway composer Arthur Schwartz (who wrote the music to "Dancing in the Dark," among other songs), the story is equal parts pop standards and family drama; his terminally ill mother dominates early sections, and though the obsession with song has already begun in these chapters, it kicks into high gear after her death in memorable passages such as Schwartz's telling of the first time he heard Frank Sinatra's "Birth of the Blues" in a Manhattan bar. The role of keeper of the musical canon functioned as a barrier behind which Schwartz could hide much of his emotional trauma, akin to other secret identities recounted here, but raw pain leaks out in increasing amounts, especially in brutal passages depicting his voluntary commitment for psychiatric evaluation and a later stay at the Betty Ford clinic. Glancing swipes at former radio colleagues drip with venom, while fights with his stepmother are recreated in visceral dialogue including many words he couldn't utter on radio. Although filled with celebrities, from childhood playmate Carly Simon to adult father figure Sinatra, the memoir succeeds best on its most intimate levels, revealed in the most paradoxical of measured tones. (Mar. 9) FYI: Schwartz's radio audience has expanded in a recent move to satellite radio. Blurbs from Pete Hamill, John Guare and Tony Bennett will help garner other audiences. Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.
Library Journal
Son of the late theater and film composer Arthur Schwartz (Dancing in the Dark), Schwartz seems to have spent his time trading on his father's renown; he has already had careers as a singer/pianist, radio show host, and short story writer/novelist. Here he provides sketches of his father's professional and personal triumphs, chiefly as they relate to his own growing up. The younger Schwartz details his own experiences at radio stations and in clubs; his love affair with baseball; his difficulties with alcoholism; his encounters with Frank Sinatra, Judy Garland, and other luminaries; and his relationships with his parents, step-relatives, and various women. Given Schwartz's social status, this should be a fascinating read, but instead it is surprisingly tedious (no thanks to numerous obscenities), with only brief glimmers of the author's talent surfacing. Libraries in the New York City and Boston areas where Schwartz has spent most of his time may experience demand; others can easily skip. What would have been far more welcome is a real biography of Arthur Schwartz to accompany chief collaborator Howard Dietz's autobiography, Dancing in the Dark (o.p.).-Barry Zaslow, Miami Univ. Libs., Oxford, OH Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information.
Kirkus Reviews
The disc jockey known for his eclectic, innovative program, first on WNEW in New York and now on NPR, chronicles a life shaped by his passion for "the American Songbook." The author comes by his affection for golden-age American popular music naturally, as the son of Arthur Schwartz, composer of "Dancing in the Dark" and other standards. Born in 1938, Jonathan was enough of a baby boomer to wind up at WNEW in 1967, just as it made the influential switch to free-form programming of rock that briefly liberated FM radio from the tyranny of Top 40. His current program mingles the best from both worlds, but it's the years in between that mostly concern Schwartz in this memoir, notable for its elegant, if occasionally rather elliptical prose and its frankness about the author's heavy drinking and tortuous personal relationships. (His two children, ex- and current wife, however, get only brief, circumspect mentions.) By his own account, Schwartz was an odd, intense kid. When the family lived in Beverly Hills, he sneaked into other people's houses just to sit in the closet and observe them; when they moved to Manhattan he used a baby monitor to broadcast his own radio station. His mother, gravely ill throughout his childhood, died in 1953; Schwartz did not, to put it mildly, get along with his stepmother, and relations with Arthur were strained. He drifted into adulthood unsure how to translate his worship of Sinatra and other classic interpreters of American song into a viable career. The various radio stints are here, along with the girlfriends (some married) who kept wearily asking him to turn down the stereo and Schwartz's modestly successful efforts as a fiction writer and a cabaret singer.The author settles a few personal scores but avoids seemingly unduly self-serving; even the famous spat with Sinatra over his on-air comments about the Trilogy album is recounted in fairly measured tones. The touching finale, after an Arthur Schwartz celebration at Lincoln Center in 2001, affirms Jonathan's love for his father and the American Songbook. Mannered but ultimately moving.
