Modern Screen (Jul-Dec 1945)

stocks. He liked bow ties, fancy shoes, straw sailor hats with striped bands. He chipped in fifty bucks with Al Rinker on a coughing, gasping, hand-cranked Ford which they painted up with collegiate wisecracks on the chassis. And he started dropping in on a Spokane speakeasy and taking along a pint sometimes to the dance jobs. The girls still thought Bing Crosby was cute and tried to trap him — but he was too big an operator. They got many a wink, grin and wisecrack from Bing — but mighty few dates. He was still sporthappy, but he'd cut his range down to golf. Some of the band bonanza had gone for a new set of clubs. But soon the band began to break up. A college band at Washington State lured the Pritchard boys so they switched schools. One day the manager of Spokane's Glemmer Theater, where Bing had seen many a Hollywood thriller as a boy, offered him a job singing baritone with a quartet in the stage show. He joined the new bunch for two weeks. That broke it up more. Finally, only Bing and Al Rinker were left. They still spent every spare minute working out harmony combinations with tricky rhythms — all by ear. But there was no market for their act around Spokane and by now Bing had decided to give his law career the old heave-ho. That decision brewed a cloud of disapproval around home for Bing. It all added up, he thought, to getting out of town. One day when he and Al were rippling through their tunes, they felt particularly solid. "Let's go on the road," said Bing. "What road?" "Any road. Let's try Seattle. Maybe we'll hit." "What if we don't — what'll we use for money?" Al was always practical. "The Lord will provide," replied Bing airily. "Pennies from Heaven." AUGUST ISSUE Jack be nimble, Jack be quick! He'll have to be to get our August issue when it reaches the newsstands on July 10 — 'cause Modern Screen is no wallflower! The Crosbys, Harry and Kate, were puzzled and disappointed ' when Bing packed his set of drums in the fifty dollar flivver with Al Rinker and set out. But they kissed the boy goodbye and wished him luck. He was going to need it. The big noises from Spokane rolled into Washington's top metropolis after a couple of days on the road. They'd ironed out a neat singing duo act, with Bing handling the fancy vocals and Al taking care of trick piano and harmony. But Seattle wasn't having any. All Bing and Al got there was some good advice from one of their band leader idolsi Vic Meyers, who used to bring his band to the Garden every now and then. Vic remembered the kids who alligatored around his outfit in Spokane. He listened to their act and nodded. "It's okay," he said, "but you'll have to polish off the edges and develop your own style. When you've got something nobody else has got — then you've got something. And," he added, "get to a big show business town where there's lots of work." "How about Los Angeles and Hollywood?" "Now you've got something." "California, here we come," said Bing. It wasn't a sudden bright brainstorm. There were two practical reasons, besides the magic name of Hollywood: Bing's brother, Everett, had moved to Los Angeles and was selling automobiles. And Al's sister, who called herself Mildred Bailey, (and whom the whole swing world was to know and love) was singing in a night club. Those were two interesting bets for a bunk and meals if things flopped. ■ Bing Crosby dates his show business career from that rugged trip down the coast. He was a barnstormer, a ham-andegger, a bum playing for getaway money all the time, singing for his supper. It's two thousand miles from Seattle to Los Angeles and all the way it was strictly hunger and an empty gas tank. i'm a singer . . . Up above Santa Barbara the Ford had gasped to a shuddering stop. Bing and Al pushed it down the road to the nearest station. But they were dead broke and they knew it. Bing turned on what Irish blarney he could summon in his depleted state and he made a deal with the station man. Ten gallons of gas and five dollars cash for the pride of Bailey's Music Store show window, sunburst and all. "Now what you gonna do without your skins?" asked Al hopelessly. "Hell," said Bing. "I'm no drummer. I'm a singer. If I get anywhere it's on me pipes. Good riddance." He never played another drum. Ev was not exactly overjoyed to see Bing and Al moving in on him. Maybe he remembered the disastrous wind-up to Bing's last visit in Portland when they all landed in jail. But when he heard Bing and Al run through their act he was sold. He lent Bing his tuxedo and, through a pal, got them an audition with Fanchon and Marco, a show business firm who booked Coastwise talent into movie palaces. Rube Wolfe, a Los Angeles emcee of that era, No curative power is claimed for PHILIP MORRIS . . . but AN OUNCE OF PREVENTION is worth a pound of cure ! PhilipMorris are scientifically proved JL, ^ far less irritating to the nose and throat When smokers changed to nose or throat— due to smoking Philip Morris, substantially —either cleared up completely, every case of irritation of the or definitely improved ! —from the findings of a group of distinguished doctors. CA%* PH/L/P MOR> S FAR F//VFX FLAVOR -PU/S FAR /H0A£ PPOTECr/O/V