During a guest appearance on HBO’s Who’s Talking to Chris Wallace, the 80-year-old Copacabana singer said he didn’t think it was important to announce his sexuality during the earlier decades of his career.
Manilow came out in 2017, almost three years after he married his husband and manager Garry Kief in a private ceremony. The couple have been together for 45 years now, though they’ve kept much of their relationship away from the public eye.
When he came out to People magazine in 2017, Manilow — whose real name is Barry Pincus — worried he’d be “disappointing” some of his fans by revealing his sexuality. Instead, Manilow, who was 73 at the time, said the reaction from his fanbase was “beautiful.”
Despite his current feelings of nonchalance about his own coming out, Manilow said announcing his sexuality as his career was booming would have been a bad idea.
“Now being gay is no big deal,” he explained. “Back in the ’70s it would have killed a career.”
Regardless, the usually very private Manilow said he thinks “everybody knew that Garry and I were a couple all those years.”
“Really, Garry and I’ve been together for so long,” he said. “It just never dawned on me that we’re going to come out. But when we got married, it was a big deal, so we did.”
Manilow credited Kief for saving his life. He said he is thankful he had Kief to support him as his music career was taking off, despite keeping their relationship under wraps.
“As my career exploded, it was just crazy. And, you know, going back to an empty hotel room, you can get into a lot of trouble if you’re alone night after night after night,” Manilow explained. “But I met Garry right around when it was exploding. And I didn’t have to go back to those empty hotel rooms. I had somebody to cry with or to celebrate with.”
Manilow said he did not wish an isolated hotel room for any young people.
“It was pretty lonely until I met Garry. And then it was fun,” he smiled.
Kief is not Manilow’s first spouse. In 1964, Manilow married his high school sweetheart, Susan Deixler. They were married for one year.
Manilow told CNN’s Wallace he “really did love” Deixler, but added “the gay thing was pretty, pretty strong. I couldn’t deny it.”
The singer said he knew he was gay before marrying Deixler, but their marriage ended because Manilow couldn’t be the committed husband his then-wife needed. He revealed that his sexuality was not the reason his marriage failed.
“We had a very nice marriage, it was great, but I was away every night making music, as a young musician would be,” Manilow described. “It wasn’t good for me, and it wasn’t good for her.”
“I couldn’t be the proper husband,” he continued. “I was out making music every night, sowing my wild oats. I wasn’t ready to settle down.”
Brooklyn-born Manilow skyrocketed to international fame in 1974 after his release of the ever-popular pop-rock ballad Mandy. He became one of the biggest-selling musicians of all time. Prior to his success as a singer-songwriter, Manilow was behind a number of famous commercial jingles for brands like State Farm and Band-Aid — a gig that he has said helped him create catchy hooks for his own hit songs.
MY DAD IS REFUSING TO PAY FOR MY WEDDING.
The ornate wedding invitation lay discarded on the floor, its delicate calligraphy mocking me. My father, sitting opposite me at the kitchen table, avoided my gaze, stirring his coffee with a grim determination.
“Dad,” I began, my voice trembling, “I don’t understand. Why won’t you help with the wedding?”
He sighed, a heavy weight settling on his shoulders. “Look, sweetheart, I understand this is important to you. But things are tight right now. I… I simply don’t have the funds.”
“But you paid for Sarah’s wedding,” I countered, my voice rising. “You even gave them a down payment on their house!”
He looked up, his eyes avoiding mine. “Things were different then. I had just gotten a promotion…”
“That’s not fair, Dad!” I exclaimed, my voice cracking. “I’m your daughter too! You promised to help with my wedding.”
He looked away, his face etched with a mixture of guilt and frustration. “I know, I know. But things have changed. I’ve had some unexpected medical expenses…”
Unexpected medical expenses? That seemed to be his excuse for everything these days. My father, a man who had always prided himself on his financial stability, was suddenly plagued by a series of unforeseen calamities.
“But Dad,” I pleaded, “this is my wedding. I’ve been planning this for years. I’ve already booked the venue, sent out invitations…”
He looked at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and helplessness. “I know, sweetheart. I know. But I just can’t.”
The weight of his words hit me like a physical blow. I felt betrayed, abandoned. My dream wedding, the culmination of years of planning and anticipation, was slipping through my fingers.
Tears welled up in my eyes. “Fine,” I said, my voice trembling. “If you won’t help, then I’ll figure it out myself.”
I stormed out of the house, the sound of his sigh echoing in my ears. I felt alone, abandoned, and utterly heartbroken. How could he do this to me? After all the years of sacrifices, all the love and support I had given him, he was abandoning me in my time of need.
The following days were a blur of frantic phone calls, desperate budget cuts, and agonizing decisions. I had to scale back the guest list, eliminate the live band, and compromise on every detail of my dream wedding. The joy I had anticipated was replaced by a gnawing sense of resentment and disappointment.
But I refused to let my father ruin my happiness. I vowed to make this wedding happen, even if it meant going into debt. I worked overtime, picked up extra shifts at the coffee shop, and even sold some of my prized possessions.
The wedding day finally arrived, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within me. As I walked down the aisle, my father sat in the front row, his face etched with a mixture of pride and regret. I smiled at him, a small, forgiving smile.
The ceremony was beautiful, despite the scaled-down budget. And as I stood at the altar, exchanging vows with the man I loved, I realized that my father’s absence had only made me stronger. It had taught me the importance of independence, of resilience, of relying on myself.
Later, as we danced our first dance, I looked at my husband, his eyes filled with love and admiration. “I did it,” I whispered, “I did it without his help.”
He smiled, pulling me closer. “You always were a fighter,” he said. “I’m so proud of you.”
Looking back, I realized that my father’s refusal to help, while hurtful, had been a blessing in disguise. It had forced me to become stronger, more independent, and more resourceful. It had taught me the true meaning of self-reliance and the importance of believing in myself.
And as I looked into my husband’s eyes, I knew that despite the challenges, we had built a life together, a life that was truly our own.
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