Radio and television mirror (Jan-June 1941)

see much of each other socially, although we're fairly close neighbors in Toluca Lake. Our respective interests keep us pretty much occupied. But we do play golf together about once a month — when we're home. Bing's a fine golfer, and loves the game. He likes to win, too, but if he loses, he can take it. Dolores (Mrs. Hope) and I were down at his Del Mar home a counle of times during last season, and Bing proved to be a swell host. One evening we came in from a long walk in the country, hungry as truck drivers after a long haul. The servants had gone to bed, but that didn't faze Bing. He went into the kitchen— and proved that even a crooner can cook. Honestly, though, Bing prepared a supper of scrambled eggs and bacon and a pot of coffee as good as any I've ever tasted. ON our last visit to his ranch, Bing and the twins, Philip and Denis, staged a song concert, and we all had a lot of laughs. It's cute to hear Bing address the boys. "Well, men," he'll say— The eldest, Gary, is only six and a half years old. And the "men" fall in line with whatever he wants. They're a well-behaved lot, even Lindsey, the baby, who's only two. Bing's a family man who skips the fancy premieres because he'd rather go to the movies with Dixie. He enjoys spending an evening at home, catching up on his reading after putting the kids to bed. Bing — By Bob Hope (Continued from page 20) Bing is swell to work with, because he's mentally alert and has a sense of humor. Don't sell Bing's funny-bone short. He can ad lib with the best of us. No one gets more of a kick out of the cracks people make at his houses than he himself. On my radio show one night I told the yarn about Bing taking Ligaroti down to the Santa Fe tracks near Del Mar to see the Streamliner go by. As the train zoomed past, Bing turned to the horse and scolded, "See? That's the way it's done!" A few days later I met Bing on the lot, and the first thing he said was, "Dixie and I got a great kick out of that gag you pulled on Ligaroti." One of the best anecdotes I know about Bing combines his sense of humor with his ability to accept circumstances as they come. It concerns an incident that happened several years ago at his ranch, where he was entertaining a group of friends from Lakeside and their wives. I wasn't there myself, but one of the fellows in the party told me about it. It was a bright, moonlight night, and some one suggested a hike in the valley. The group walked along almost in a body until they reached a narrow dirt road, and it became necessary to continue singly or by twos. Bing and his cocker spaniels, Laddie and Duchess, brought up the rear. Everybody was happy until the dogs decided to go exploring in the brush. When they returned, the atmosphere became as potent as a double Scotch on an empty stomach. You didn't need to be psychic to guess that in their wanderings they had routed out a skunk! Then, I'm told, the pups got excited, brushed up against Bing, and instantly made him as highly perfumed as themselves! Whereupon the rest of the group, to avoid the same result, took to their heels and fled, leaving Bing and the spaniels a good quarter-mile behind. Instead of getting sore, Bing started to sing — in his best voice, and apparently blissfuly ignoring the stench around him. He sang the entire two miles back to the house, his voice carrying clearly in the still night to his delighted audience ahead. Boy, I wish I'd been there! Bing has a heart. I could tell you about the pipe organ he bestowed upon his church, which he attends every Sunday. I could mention the many handsome contributions he makes to charities — and probably get him ?ore. Like all who're sincerely charitable, Bing doesn't like his good deeds publicized. BING will never have to worry about a tight hatband. He has something which should always save him from the danger of taking himself too seriously. He's humble ! I suppose the idea of a man rich and famous acting humble doesn't ring true. But it's no pose with Bing. He's absolutely sincere. Maybe you've guessed. I'm crazy about the guy! together every six months for a big feed and minstrel show. It's a costume affair, lasts until dawn, and everybody has a hilarious time. Pat O'Brien's in charge of the next shindig this fall, and Ken Murray, Jerry Colonna and Ella Logan are members of the gang. My brother Larry stage manages the minstrels, for which we rehearse weeks in advance. Bob's favorite stunt at these clambakes is reading lines out of his hat. He puts them inside the crown, then invents all sorts of zany gags to remove the hat. Make a careful, honest appraisal of this Dream Boat of the airwaves, and what's he got? Looks? With that dish nose, and that shovel chin, Bob Taylor and Ty Power can rest easy. Mrs. Hope is the beauty of the family, and of course Linda, the baby, is already giving evidence of great future beauty. Dolores can out-sing him, too. WHAT is it, then, the fellow possesses that has made the world his stooge? Frankly, I'm afraid it's brains. Yeah, gray matter. Don't let any one tell you he took it easy to become an overnight sensation. He worked for his breaks. He came up the hard way. He's a veteran of twelve years in show business. Believe it or not, Hope was once a hoofer. He started out originally in a blackface act with a pal, calling themselves dance comedians. The team was dissolved when the other chap 72 Bob — By Bing Crosby (Continued from page 21) died, and Hope joined up with a new partner. They were eccentric dancers, playing the Gus Sun Time — a circuit familiar to small towns in the east anrl middle west. When Bob went east last summer, he got a great kick out of including in the trip Cleveland — where he once sold newspapers and jerked sodas. He looked up all of the gang he'd gone to school with, even forgiving those who, in his youth, nicknamed him "Hopeless." His real name being Lester Townes Hope, even "Les Hope" became a butt for wise cracks. Beneath that glib-talking Mr. Hyde exterior breathes a warm-hearted Dr. Jekyll personality. For all his scenestealing, gagging and general tormenting, he's a pretty level-headed fellow, and the most sentimental guy in the world. His devotion to friends, particularly old-time pals whose financial status has failed to keep pace with his own, amounts almost to a mania. He recently brought a pal of his out from Cleveland and paid all his expenses. The fellow had been down on his luck back home. Bob's trying to find him a job out here. You all know what a pushover he is for benefits. Like the time he played twenty-two of them in a short stretch — making three appearances one day — then retired to Palm Springs in a state of near collapse. Having a pretty good sense of humor himself, Hope doesn't relish people who take themselves too se riously. One of his friends tells about an evening at his home when a small group included a film actress who fancies herself pretty much of a Bette Davis or Sarah Bernhardt. Her entrance was as dramatic as a queen's, and her emoting didn't let up for a second all evening. Everybody grew bored, and finally Bob exploded. I OOK, honey," he said to the asoir'-ing Helen Hayes, "relax. Be yourself. You're not at the studio. You're at the Hope mansion. You're among friends. Forget you're an actress and just have a good time." The "mansion" is a big, comfortable house of whitewashed brick set amid a couple of acres of lawn framed by a fence. At the entrance gate you have to announce yourself through a speaking tube, and if you don't know the password of the moment, you're out of luck. At present it's a mysterious character in a popular song. There's an assortment of dogs on the place. One is a black spaniel named Lum. Once there was an Abner, too, but he got too noisy and had to be banished after the neighbors complained. You can see that Hope's come a long way from the kid in Cleveland who wanted to be a parachute jumper, and leaped off the roof of his home with an opened umbrella for balance. Perhaps you can't attribute his arresting personality to that feat, but I wouldn't d;scount the theory entirely. RADIO AND TELEVISION MIRROR