I USED to wonder,” cracks Crosby, “whether Hope was born or his mother knitted him.” Statistics prove he was born. Happened in England in 1904, but a Cleveland, O., up-bringing is responsible for that remunerative sense of humor. It earns him about $400,000 annually—about $150,000 from radio, the rest from Paramount, where he makes all those “Road” movies. “Highway robbery,” quips Bob, but it isn’t at all, and here’s why. He’s entertained at 500 camps, sold $25,000,000 worth of bonds and is now traipsing around Europe and Africa making thousands of kids who thought they’d never smile again laugh like anything. All in addition to doing his usual quota of movies, playing zillions of benefits and keeping a slick babe rather interested on the side. Gal by the name of Dolores Reade Hope, his former vaudeville partner, who is blond and beautiful and co-owner of two darling kids, two Cadillacs, a big but not fabulous house and much solid and unpublicized love. . . . After being named America’s favorite radio entertainer 2 years straight, a little thing like being voted top man with the uniforms shouldn’t faze him. Tell him about it, though, and for just a second you think you see tears in his eyes. Next minute you know you” were all wrong, ’cause he’s grinning Pepsodent-ishly at you: “Sure, they’re crazy about me. Why, at one camp, they got down on their knees to me. What a tribute! What a spectacle! What a crap game!” We’ll take it from there, Bob.