Modern Screen (Dec 1948 - Oct 1949)

same time we made the picture. Brother, Mexican jumping beans weren't in it with us. But Frank had had a neat little vision of his own, and his came true. He wanted to meet Bing Crosby. "That Bing's the greatest singer in the world," he'd say to me, wistfully. "Do you think I might get to meet him, huh?" I'd say I didn't know, which was the truth. Sure, the picture was being made at Paramount and that was Bing's studio, but Bing wasn't making a picture now. He was away somewhere, only I hated to tell Frankie that. He found it out, of course, as soon as he got to the studio. So he went around for a week looking like a small boy when Mom says, "No cookies today." Until one day. We were shooting a long sequence of the band playing and Frank making with the tonsils. I happened to glance over my shoulder and practically froze in that position. Because there was the Groaner himself, lounging in the door back of us, and looking as if he liked what he was hearing. He got hold of Dorsey as soon as the scene was over and said, "This Sinatra. Very good, Tommy, very good. I think you've got something there." Then Tommy introduced Frank to him, and I thought the kid was going to faint. Later Frank grabbed me and rushed me outside. "Bobby, you mean he was there all the time? Listening? Gee, I hope I sang all right." "Bing seemed to think you sang okay," I told him, grinning, "and I understand he's a pretty fair judge." After we left California we traveled all over the country. And we all had one pet gripe. Tommy had bought a bus for the band to ride in. Painted silver it was, and a very fancy-looking job. But the seats wouldn't tilt back, and the thing bounced all over the road and when you got through a long trip you felt as if every bone in your body was broken. We used to beg Tommy to let us drive our own cars, but he was afraid we wouldn't make the next stop on time if we did. One night Frank and I did miss the bus, because he'd been calling Nancy longdistance. Ordinarily, we could have hired a car to catch up in, or taken a train. But this time we were both broke and that's for sure. Of course Frank was always broke, because he lent so much dough to the other guys. Anyway, we decided to hitch-hike. that's ho Curvaceous Esther Williams was wearing a bathing suit of lame on an M-G-M set. "Hmmm," hmmm'd an extra, "thar's hills in them thar gold . . ." Greer Garson gets giggles displaying a clipping reporting an accident she suffered. It's from the Monterey Peninsula Herald — which read: "The area in which Miss Garson was injured is spectacularly scenic . . ." Dick Haymes' definition of a glamour girl is probably as good as any: "A girl who has what it takes to take what you have ..." Irving Hoffman in The Hollywood Reporter Ever try hitch-hiking along a strange road at three in the morning? Oh, a few cars go by, but that's just what they do — go by. We were hungry, too, and we finally swiped some raw corn out of a field and ate it. Before long, we did get a ride that caught us up with the bus, but by then it was too late. That raw corn made Frank so sick that he might as well not have been there at all that night when it came to singing. One time Tommy started for New York from a place we'd been playing in Pennsylvania. He drove his own car, natch, and the rest of us were supposed to start four hours later on the bus, for he had business to attend to in New York before we got there. So we slept an extra four hours, and then piled into the bus. Frank climbed into the driver's seat. "Let's beat that car of Tommy's to New York," he said suddenly. "Hold your hats!" And he started down the road like a bat. At first everyone yelled at him that he was nuts. Then they began to laugh. "Tommy keeps saying what a wonderful bus this is," somebody said. "Let's prove he's right." We rocketed along that road like a sardine can rolling downhill. Not that Frank was driving recklessly, you understand. But he sure did kick that crate along as briskly as the law allowed. And when we finally got on the New York ferry, the car ahead of us belonged to one Mr. Thomas Dorsey! I thought he'd have apoplexy when he saw us. Especially when he found out we had burned out various essential parts during the trip. He had to sell the bus after that, and allow us to drive our own cars. But let me say in our favor that we were never late. Well, those days ended for me when I went into the Army. Naturally I didn't know when I'd see Frank again — if ever. Then I was sent to a camp near Hollywood. I knew Frank was out there — he'd become pretty famous since I'd last seen him. I got a yen to talk about old times, and I wrote him a letter and said so. But I thought maybe I'd get back a note signed by a secretary saying, "Mr. Sinatra is too busy." Instead I got a phone call. "Bobby, you old so-and-so, get yourself a pass as soon as you can and come up here for a week end. Boy, do I want to see you!" He wanted to see me! Things like that explain why Frank has more friends than any guy in the world. I spent a lot of weekends at Frank's house after that. Nancy is the kind of wonderful hostess who lets you relax completely and do as you please, instead of trying to fit you into her plans. "What you going to do when you get out of the service, Bobby?" Frank asked me one day. "I don't know yet. I've had a couple of offers." "Well, here's one I'd like you to give a little special attention to. I'd like you to come and work for me. I need somebody like you." It took me about one-fifth of a second to forget those other offers. One day I said to Frank, "I sure wish you could be best man at my wedding." After all, we'd worked together off and on for eight years. When a guy is your best friend as well as your prospective boss, you naturally want him around when you take the big step. But Frank was involved in a million things. "I know how busy you are ..." I said, trying to sound casual. "That busy, I never get," Frank said, grinning. "If you're going to climb into a straitjacket, I want to be there to lace it." I laughed. I always laugh at Franks AMAZING NEW DEW SPRAY DEODORANT in the Magical "Self-Atomizing" Squeezable Bottle! STOPS PERSPIRATION AND ODOR TROUBLES Daintier than creams! Dew never touches hands, nails. Not messy. Just squeeze new flexible bottle. Spray on a gentle mist. Only deodorant containing "Retselane" to stop perspiration troubles safely, protect clothes from perspiration stains. Instantly removes odor. Keeps you daintily pure, socially secure. Will not rot clothes! Dew is harmless, stainless. Can't irritate normal skin. Bottle magic! Djw's new plastic bottle can't leak, break or spill. Perfect for purse or travel. 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