Screenland Plus TV-Land (Jul 1957 - May 1959)

The Triumph Of Love And Dreams continued from page 33 Back in Nashville, he sang on Saturday nights in a little spot in Printer's Alley called the Unique Cafe. "They must have liked me," he told Colleen. "The owners, Bob and Bobbie Green, invited me to their house for Sunday dinners. That's where I learned my best song . . ." That "best song" was "Honeycomb." By the time Jimmie had sung that one, and every other song he knew for Colleen, dawn, too, was at the McClatchey front porch. JIMMIE apologized for not asking for a date the following night. "I'm going over to Seaside to see if I can catch on with this little outfit . . ." "I'll be cheering for you," said Colleen. "Call me the minute you get back." That minute was weeks later. When Jimmie had walked into the Sand Bar cafe, the hillbilly outfit lacked a piano player. Before the evening was over, he had a job. When he decided to strike out as a single, he came back to Camus to look for bookings. First thing in the morning, he rang Colleen. Her brother answered curtly, "She isn't here." Jimmie and his brother Archie drifted over to their cousin's house to talk about going fishing. Then his mother phoned. "Jimmie, I just heard it on the radio. Colleen was in an accident. A bad one. She's in the hospital at Long View." With a frantic telephone call, Jimmie reached Mrs. McClatchey and learned what had happend. With a young man. Colleen had been returning from Seattle. The night was foggy, and ahead of them, a car pulled across the highway, the driver trying to beam his headlights on a road marker. Rounding the curve, the second car crashed into it. Colleen was thrown against the windshield. No one yet knew how badly she was hurt. Jimmie said, "I'm coming right over." Mrs. McClatchey said, "Please don't. Colleen doesn't want to see anyone." He received the same reply when he knocked on the door of their home, two weeks later, but Jimmie refused to be put off. "I don't care if she is bandaged from her toes to her eyes. She's not just a glamour girl to me. She's my friend and she's hurt. Maybe I can do something to cheer her up." It became the strangest of courtships. Jimmie gives it a terse review: "For six months. I couldn't even kiss her." As she convalesced, he took her on long drives. There were good people in Camus who were touched by the sight of the beat-up little convertible going by, the ardent lad singing, grinning, telling wobbly little jokes, doing anything to try to bring a response from the still-as56 death girl . . . trying always to put a smile back into the blue eyes which peered out from the face mask which she wore to cover the ugly scars. Seeing the couple, sympathetic people said, "That boy has character. And that girl has courage." But there were others who shook their heads. The "practical ones," they called themselves, in defense of their clacking tongues. They claimed to know all about that drawer full of accumulated bills. Colleen was in and out of the hospital. As soon as plastic surgery began to restore her beauty, other problems came to light. There was an operation to remove a splintered bone. Then spine injuries caused a leg to shorten and she had to go into traction. Jimmie, trying to help her bear the pain, promised himself he would also ease her financial worry. No longer could he think about going back to his safe little job at the paper mill. He could never earn enough. They'd be in debt all their lives. He had to sing, and as a singer, he had to make it big. Singing his heart out on every booking he could find, he got his first real break while at the Fore cafe, Vancouver. Chuck Miller, the headliner at a night spot across the street, had a hit record running called, "The House Of Blue Lights." Chuck caught Jimmie's act and became a friend with faith. He supplied the plane ticket which took Jimmie to New York to appear on "Arthur Godfrey's Talent Scouts." Jimmie won, but no big booking resulted. Further disappointment came from his recording audition. Chuck sent Jimmie to see Hugo Peretti and Luigi Creatore, the artists and repertoire team who, first at Mercury Records and now at Roulette Records, have both recorded instrumental hits of their own and guided other artists to the top of the lists. Mrs. Peretti, who, under her professional name of "Jerry Whitman," wrote the music of Valerie Carr's current best seller, "Bad Girl," recalls Jimmie's audition. "I was in the studio when he tried out. We all thought he was great and Hugo and Luigi knew that eventually they wanted to record him, but I guess no one made Jimmie understand it. He sort of wandered in and wandered out. It took a private detective to find him three months later." They located him in California. With twenty cents in his pocket, five dollars in the bank, and the promise of some television bookings, Jimmie had married Colleen in Vancouver on January 4, 1957, and had gone to Hollywood. Jimmie had guest shots on the "Bob Crosby Show" and a few other programs; a few night club bookings had WHEN Jimmie Rodgers' big moment came he couldn't have made it without Colleen. helped out. The. only trouble was, there weren't enough of them. Colleen had needed another operation. Jimmie and Colleen were having a rough time. So rough, in fact, that when Hugo and Luigi reached him by long distance to say, "Come to New York for a recording session, Jimmie could only reply, "I can't. No dough." Roulette wired $300 and Jimmie and Colleen set out in their old car. He could have flown, alone, in high style, but Jimmie insisted on bringing Colleen. People at Roulette still remember that recording session. Shy and scared, Jimmie and Colleen arrived at the studio. As he stepped up to the mike, beat-up guitar in hand, Hugo and Luigi had an inspiration. Darting out of the control room, Hugo placed a high stool directly within Jimmie's line of sight, motioned to Colleen and said, "Sit there." AFTER that, everyone else might just as well have gone home, for all the attention Jimmie and Colleen paid to them. Jimmie played and sang; Colleen smiled and cried. Putting all their fears, problems and woes behind them, Jimmie made love to her by singing their favorite song "Honeycomb." It was his answer to all those who had predicted dire calamity, his assurance to Colleen that every moment they had had together had been precious to him; his pledge of even better things to come. His emotion carried through. Listeners, feeling it, bought more than a million records. Jimmie and Colleen had a hit. The other songs which have followed have assured this good life. Television appearances, road tours and now motion pictures (he co-stars with Debbie Reynolds in MGM's "How Good Girls Get Married") indicate that Jimmie continues to reach everyone's heart. Colleen and Jimmie have exchanged their little cottage with its home-built furniture for a new house in Hollywood. There's money in the bank, the debts are paid, and best of all, Colleen has regained both her health and beauty. continued on page 69