THE FIRST-AID KITT ON SURVIVAL

“I am not white enough to pass, and I am not black enough to be. I’m caught in between, but still I have to be me.”

Wearing a drab, unflattering wrap-around robe and smudged sneakers, sipping red wine and smoking a cigarette, Eartha Kitt was reciting the verse she had composed that morning.

A published author who is working on her third book, a “humorous” autobiography titled “The Men in My Life,” Kitt said she writes “something every day, even if it’s nothing.”

At the moment, the singer was in her dressing room, preparing to go on stage at the Vine St. Bar & Grill, where she is booked through Sunday.

Her hair was pinned up at weird angles, and a makeup artist was darting in and out with brushes and eye pencils between her words--no simple task.

For Kitt’s words often come with machine-gun rapidity, particularly when the subject is heavy.

And sometimes they get her in trouble, such as the celebrated incident in 1968, when she spoke out against the Vietnam War at a White House luncheon during the Johnson Administration. She still claims she was blacklisted in the industry as a result.

Then there was the report a few years later that the CIA had a long dossier on her, and again her career suffered.

But those days are gone.

Still, Eartha Kitt doesn’t mince words about much of anything--racial prejudices, civil rights, even her age.

Listed in the World Almanac as having been born Jan. 26, 1928, she said the year actually is a mystery.

“I’m also listed in 1926 and 1934,” she said, “so take your choice. I have no birth certificate. Numbers are for a calendar. What matters is how you feel.”

On more important subjects, the turmoil in South Africa, for instance, Kitt--born on a cotton plantation in South Carolina--left no doubts about her feelings.

“I was the first artist to break the apartheid rules,” she said, recalling her trip to South Africa in 1974, when she refused to perform in front of a segregated audience.

She remembered drinking champagne on stage, then passing the glass to front-row spectators, black and white; each took a sip and passed it on.

“It was not permitted,” she said, “but I did it. Once you break a precedent, the precedent is broken.

“When I first worked in Las Vegas, we could not go through the front door. We had to go through the kitchen. The people of South Africa need a Martin Luther King. (She marched with him in Alabama.) Bishop Tutu might be one; I don’t know.

“Hatred is going to be passed on. In the end, the people themselves will have to do it (gain their freedom). They will have to help themselves.”

The verse she composed stemmed from her conviction that TV virtually ignores black women entertainers who’re not truly black , the word exploding on her lips.

To make it big in TV, she said, “a black woman has to be black , fat and 40.”

Nonetheless, Kitt appeared this season in a “Miami Vice” episode, playing the role of a voodoo priestess, a character who reportedly may show up in ensuing episodes.

But TV aside, her career seems to be flourishing.

“I’ve been touring the last few years,” she said, “in Europe and the U.S.”

Last August she headlined at Vine St. for the first time, but that marked her first Southland nightclub booking since 1978.

“There are no nightclubs anymore,” Kitt said sadly. “The Mocambo used to be fun, Ciro’s. . . .”

However, the singer manages to find stages all over the world, it seems, having worked in 104 countries, by her count, over the years.

Kitt recently performed in Turkey, where she is remembered for one of her mid-’50s hits, “Uska Dara,” the name of a small Turkish town. She was brought in to help the Hilton Hotel in Istanbul celebrate its 34th anniversary.

“I go where the work is,” she said with a smile. “It’s survival.”

Kitt plans to leave for London when her engagement here ends to resume promoting her new single, “This Is My Life”--a song based on her life. The recording, released in Europe a few weeks ago and moving up fast on the charts, will be available here soon, she said.

Excited by prospects of another hit after a long drought, Kitt is working harder these days and, apparently, still holding up well despite her exhausting schedule.

“It was a lot of fun before I had my daughter (Kitt McDonald, 24, a New York fashion model), and fun when my daughter was traveling with me.

“Now, I want to be home more. I’m not ready to stop working, but I’ve never had a home life. Now it’s getting to be lonely.”

Divorced years ago after a four-year marriage to William McDonald, whom she described simply as a Korean veteran, Kitt hasn’t decided where she might eventually settle down.

In 1954, she bought two apartment buildings in New York City, one for $91,000, the other $81,000, each now worth more than $2 million, she estimated. In 1957, she paid $87,000 for her home in Beverly Hills--an estate she now values at $3 million--and she owns a house in Connecticut.

“Dirt is much more valuable than diamond rings.”

The interview ended perhaps prematurely, but, after all, it was almost show time.

Minutes later, the singer stepped on stage, her personality--and appearance--having changed as effortlessly as shifting gears.

Makeup in place, hair suitably styled, a sexy, black-sequined gown and heels replacing the drab robe and sneakers, Kitt batted her lashes and began purring those familiar sounds heard for decades.

She wore no jewelry, not even an earring. Nonetheless, “September Song” never sounded better.