Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1948)

Man at the Top ( Continued, from page 33) and others who work in the Crosby office building out on Sunset Strip . . . nobody else is even in the same league with him. Which fact a film commentator who recently conducted “The Most Famous Person in the World Contest” could have discovered if he’d followed some of the penny postcards he got back home. “Bing . . . who else?” wrote one of the girls. And, “Crosby, of course,” another one. Even his dad, Harry Sr., a genial, lovable man bright of eye and usually equally bright of tie who keeps books for him, mailed in his card voting for his boy Bing. He usually checks by the office every day when he isn’t working at the studio. He goes into a huddle with Bill Morrow, producer of the Philco show, decides on ranch details like how many cattle to ship east at what price, goes over the business of Crosby Enterprises which he heads, Rainbow Productions and Crosby Producers, Inc., and takes care of an endless amount of correspondence, pencilling in notes on the letters about how they’re to be answered. THERE’S an elevator in the Crosby building, but Bing seldom uses it. He swings up the two flights of stairs, gives the telephone operator a “Hi, Red,” as he goes through the reception room, takes care of the business in his own office, and is going back down the steps, whistling, probably carrying a new putter, en route to Bel-Air Club, before many of the office personnel even know the Boss has been about. Nobody wins a title alone. And Crosby would be the first to say so. Success is a corporation shared by all who’ve inspired it and helped it along. In his case, his wife Dixie; his four fullbacks, Gary, Philip, Dennis and Lindsay; his brothers, Larry and Everett; his dad and his mother. Early conditioning and training play a very large part. His groundwork began in a sturdy eight-room brown frame house in an Irish neighborhood on Sharp Avenue back in Spokane. From the time he could talk, Bing was always whistling and singing. Though he couldn’t afford it, “Pop” Crosby bought one of the new-fangled phonographs with the big horns and all the latest cylinder records featuring singers. Bing could be found often cranking away at the machine with one ear in the horn catching the lyrics. On weekends the Crosbys held their own Sunday night “sings,” with Catherine at the piano, Bing on the cymbals, Crosby Sr. alternating between his mandolin and guitar, and all of the family harmonizing on such oldies as “Memories” and “When You Wore a Tulip,” while taking a flyer on “Margie” and “Melancholy Baby,” very hot hits just then. Despite the popular impression that Bing’s talents just grew all by themselves — probably in spite of him — he’s always had some knowledge of music. He played the drums in the Gonzaga University band and took voice lessons on occasion — brief ones — from two different professors around Spokane. But he still doesn’t trust his technical knowledge and has far more confidence in his trusty left foot that wig wags back and forth like a metronome whenever he’s singing now. He first began singing in public in the boys’ choir at church, and for special entertainment programs for organizations his mother belonged to like “The Service League” and Red Cross. He was always willing to sing for charity. But if anybody else was getting paid on any program, Bing always wanted his share. “How much?” he’d say when approached to sing. Even then nobody worried about his making his way in the world. He'd evidenced a brain for business long before that fateful afternoon when he left Spokane with A1 Rinker chugging at thirty miles an hour in an old Model-T Ford towards Hollywood and fame. Hard work— a “must” for any championship bout — has never been foreign to him. As a kid he always made his own spending money, delivering newspapers, working as a locker boy or a caddy, helping out on a farm during the summer and later on by working in a law office in Spokane. Around home he had his chores to do. Helping beat carpets, carrying wood, and he always fixed his own breakfast too. “Pop” Crosby usually made the coffee and the big double-boiler full of mush. Then as each of the Crosby children got up they’d warm their own, and fix toast and eggs or whatever else they wanted with it. Mrs. Crosby had her hands full getting the six of them ready for school. It’s nothing unusual to find him down in the kitchen of his Bel-Air home in the early mornings, picking stems off strawberries and pulling what he wants for breakfast out of the refrigerator, just as he used to out of the ice box back in Spokane. He’s usually up long before the cook arrives anyway. His common sense has always been a strong factor in keeping Crosby’s head above the ropes. Along with a determined will to win, whenever he’s made the effort to TUNE IN PL o f on (a it Studio oar Hear what people just like you say about their tour through the big Hollywood movie studios. It’s an entirely different radio show . . . one you’ll fully enjoy. Daily — Monday through Friday 3:45 p.m. FST • 2:45 p.m. CST • 1:45 p.m. MSF • 12:45 p.m. PST Over All ABC Stations A Hair Make-Up Created for Your *Color Type! Highlights for Every Color Type . . . brown ette, brunette and redhead, as well as blonde! 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