Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1948)

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When we arrived out here we were worried about where our boy would go to school. We were told about St. John’s, where the Crosby kids go, but there was a long waiting list. We started trying to think of who, if anybody, we knew that might be able to help.” You have probably guessed. Father Crosby came to the rescue. The Junior Como is going to school at St. John’s. 1 hope that in the picture, “If I’m Lucky” Como has just made he got direction and material known as “the breaks.” Certainly it’s up to them to photograph him as he really looks. That guy at the piano in “Doll Face” singing “Here Comes Heaven Again” bore slight resemblance to the smooth oliveskinned, pearly-toothed and physically fit number I had lunch with the other day. HE was most enthusiastic about his coworkers. “It was like old home week,” he said. “Vivian Blaine, Carmen Miranda, Phil Silvers — I’ve played with all of them before — wonderful gang! Then there was Harry James, too — a great guy.” Como is, in fact, enthusiastic about most things. Everyone who comes up the hard way is. When you see some character who apparently has leaped to the heights over night, you can be pretty sure it was a long night, beset with heartaches and disappointments. We eventually got back to Catalina, magic isle on Hollywood’s hip. “What fun we used to have there!” Como sighed. “We want to get over there before we go back East,” he continued. “I saw a lifeguard I knew over there at my broadcast last week. He says it’s still swell. I want to go over again with Roselle.” ‘What’s your wife's name?” I wanted to hear him say it again “Roselle!” He might have been singing his famous “I’m Just a Prisoner of Love.” The same caress was in the tone. “Lovely name,” I said. “She s lovely,” he answered. “I’ve known her ever since she was a kid.” 1 asked how she passed the time out here. He sort of swept the days aside. “Well, she likes to cook my dinners as often as possible. It’s pretty nice when you come in after a tough day to have the things you like best, cooked the way you like them cooked.” “Are you happy here in California?” 1 asked furtively. (They hide the Chamber of Commerce spies everywhere out here.) “I mean, are you quite comfortable at The Garden of Allah?” Yes, that’s where he lives, Como-addicts! Imagine the combination of Como and the Garden of Allah. Imagine it, but don’t forget that Roselle is there cooking the things he likes best. Just settle down with your record of “Hubba! Hubba!” His version of the birth of the super-sensational “Hubba! Hubba!” is amusing. The song was sort of sneaked into the film “Doll Face,” and when the higher-ups learned that the best ballad singer in years (Crosby says it) was giving out with Licks, Jive. Digs and other odd things which Webster doesn’t list, they raised quite an “odorrooney.” That’s modern Gaillard, in case you’re not “Hep,” and Gaillard is the Sire of Cement Mixer, if you’re still lagging Furthermore, if you haven’t “dug” Slim Gaillard and his Co-Nuts, you not only haven’t lived, you’re not born yet. When we were saying goodbye I aske i where he did his Supper Club broadcasts from. “Down in Hollywood,” he said. “Whyv Would you like to come to one?” My “yes!” was clear and emphatic. I got there well ahead of time. Never having heard any squeals or swoon sounds when listening to his shows, I wanted to see what Como-ites were like. I hasten to break the news — they are just plain folks, old, young, smart, dowdy. In fact, seated between one bright-eyed “teener” and a local version of Whistler’s Mother, I felt as if I were witnessing some high school entertainment. During the “warm-up,” Como talked to us. In my world-wide wanderings 1 have never seen more savoir-faire and effortless charm. He sang one number facing us, but when the show went on the air, he gave us the profile. No playing to those present — the Como’s too canny to risk the great unseen public hearing sounds they don’t understand, as many radio big shots do. Nothing upsets his permanent poise, and when I tell you that his guest star was Spike Jones complete with sound equipment, you know it’s “the poise that impresses.” He sang “Laura” as sincerely and caressingly as if Gene Tierney herself had been holding his hand instead of Spike Jones beating the washboard while his gang made every sound allowed on the air. I didn’t even hear them, I was too fascinated by Como at the mike. The way he handles it! If I were Roselle I would be a bit green eyed. He moves in close as if to imprint a butterfly kiss, then draws back, seemingly lost in admiration. When the camera catches his extreme good looks as well as “that voice” on the sound track, you can be sure Como will have you in a coma. The End XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX^^ THE BELLS ARE RINGING Tot fliny For the third time winner of Photoplay’s Gold Medal Award! PhotopLay Plny± the Hetl with Crosby’s up-to-the-minute story and his portrait on the cover floth SJn Match Photoplay XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXVXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX