The only thing creative people ask for in this world is the opportunity to create and the skills to do it with. Once they have both, the only thing they can do is to keep creating.

Jule Styne began his career as a composer with the jazz standard “Sunday,” and kept going right up to his death in 1994. His final project was the musical version of “The Red Shoes,” which ran for five performances in December 1993.At the time the work seemed completely incongruous. Styne’s music was all about Broadway and big bands – not ballet.”The Red Shoes,” based on a British film, was consciously arty, classical-oriented, and suspiciously European. But in a sense, the show was a metaphor for Styne’s life.

In “The Red Shoes,” a dancer puts on a pair of magic shoes that empower her to be a prima ballerina and a big star, but the cost is to her personal life: She can never stop dancing. Jule (pronounced “Julie”) arranged his life so that he could never stop composing – he was a gambling addict,even when he was pushing 90, and simply had to have the money. He had to go on and on from one show to the next; the red shoes were permanently stuck to his feet.

“The Red Shoes” was a flop, but Styne continued to write beautiful songs well into his 80s, including “Searching” and “It’s Sunday.” In fact, Styne had the longest career of any of the major writers of what we now refer to as the Great American Songbook, with the possible exception of Irving Berlin. On Wednesday night, pianistsinger Eric Comstock will celebrate Styne’s centennial with a special concert at Rose Hall.

Julius Kerwin Stein, like Bob Hope, was actually born in England. Yet, like Hope,he became an American icon.His family, which had already emigrated from Ukraine shortly before he was born, moved again to America when Julius was 8. He had the musical advantage of growing up in Chicago just in time for the Roaring ’20s, living in Hollywood during the golden age of the ’30s, and arriving on Broadway in the ’50s. In every era, he triumphed.

As a composer, Styne was something of a late bloomer. He had his first hit with his first published song, 1926’s “Sunday,” which became a jazz and pop standard. Yet after this blockbuster, he was barely heard from for 15 years. He turned out songs but had no hits. His only notable tune in these years was “Little Joe,” recorded by Louis Armstrong and Mildred Bailey (which Dan Morgenstern has described as “the first black-is-beautiful song”).

Styne supported himself as an arranger for dance bands, then wound up going to Hollywood initially as a vocal coach and accompanist. From 1935 on,he wrote tunes for B-movie musicals, of which “Hold That Co-Ed,””Kentucky Moonshine,” “Barnyard Follies,” “Hit Parade of 1941,” and “Melody Ranch” were the most prestigious. Not until the war years did he write film songs that became hits.

His career began to take off thanks to timely teamings with two major lyricists, Frank Loesser and Sammy Cahn. Loesser supplied the text for “I Don’t Want To Walk Without You,” and Cahn worked with him first on the wartime hits “I’ve Heard That Song Before” and “There Goes That Song Again,” as well as another song about strolling solo, “I’ll Walk Alone.” Cahn and Styne also wrote one of the definitive documents of the nation’s mood at the end of the war, the Bing Crosby-Les Paul hit “It’s Been a Long, Long Time.”

The success of Styne and Cahn was assured when they formed a long-term relationship with Frank Sinatra,writing three successful film scores in a row for him.The collaboration yielded “I Fall in Love Too Easily,” “Time After Time,” and many others. Sinatra, born 10 years after Styne, understood exactly where he was coming from. He would record almost 40 of Styne’s melodies over that many years.

Styne and Cahn’s first theatrical venture, “Glad To See You” (1944), was a legendary flop that never made it to New York. It would be completely forgotten had not Sinatra rescued “Guess I’ll Hang My Tears Out To Dry” and immortalized it as one of the great ironic torch songs.

Styne finally made it to Broadway with two notable successes, “High Button Shoes” (referred to as “High Button Jews” in “The Producers”) with Cahn and “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes” with Leo Robin. The latter provided Carol Channing’s breakthrough on Broadway and, later, Marilyn Monroe’s most memorable movie musical moment.

From his mid-40s onward, Styne was a permanent fixture on Broadway. He and Richard Rodgers were just about the only composers from the earlier period to thrive in the era of more sophisticated, book-driven Broadway shows. And, like Rodgers, he established himself as a producer as well as a songwriter – but only rarely wore both hats at the same time.

Styne kept current by collaborating with younger lyricists, most famously Betty Comden and Adolph Green (“Two on the Aisle,” “Peter Pan,” “Bells Are Ringing,” “Say, Darling,” “Subways Are for Sleeping,” “Do-Re-Mi,” “Fade Out, Fade In,” “Hallelujah, Baby!”) and Bob Merrill (“Funny Girl”). At age 53, he and the 20-something Stephen Sondheim created “Gypsy,” the greatest of all musicals about showbiz. This was the highlight of Styne’s career.

“Time After Time,” however, might be the composer’s pinnacle achievement.The song stands out because of its soaring, classical-style melody, which took full advantage of the miraculous chops of the young Sinatra in the film “It Happened in Brooklyn.” Styne later told his friend Michael Feinstein that he was directly inspired by Jerome Kern’s characteristically operatic melodies when he wrote the song: He was actually trying to recall a melody of Kern’s when he accidentally improvised a melody of his own, which Cahn was on hand to remember.

Where “Time After Time” is vaguely European, other songs are snappy and jazzy. Songs even differ vastly in the same show: “Just in Time” (from “Bells Are Ringing”) is almost all half steps, going up and down between C sharp to D natural; Styne uses a restrictive, repetitive melody to illustrate the frustration of the character. The feeling of “Long Before I Knew You,” from the same show, is completely different; to emphasize a feeling of alienation for the same character, Styne supports the melody in dissonant, minor chords that can sound vaguely Asian.

The two “time” songs have been played and sung by almost every major performer of the era, including both the grandfather of soul, Little Jimmy Scott, and the godfather of soul, James Brown. “Long Before I Knew You” is only known to the cognoscenti, but I will personally be disappointed if Mr. Comstock doesn’t play it tomorrow night.

wfriedwald@nysun.com