by Everett Crosby
I DON’T know that Bing’s ever said which of the pictures he’s made is his favorite. But I can tell you. There are two. One is “Going My Way.” The other is “Bells Of St. Mary’s.”
Why they’re his favorites is interesting. In the role of Father O’Malley, Bing doesn’t have to make love. He doesn’t like to make love. It embarrasses him. He gets all embarrassed when, in front of a set full of people, he has to go into a clinch. When he does have to, his face looks like a piece of boiled scrod. Actually blushes. He’s always been that way. It’s an old family trait. None of us ever gets demonstrative in front of people.
by Helen Louise Walker
“I’ve had good luck and I wouldn’t change a thing,” says Bing Crosby. “Fate licks some people and takes care of others in spite of themselves.”
IF I had my life to live over again… well, since things have turned out the way they have, I’d be pretty silly if I said I’d try to make them any different. Yet I’d certainly hate to have one of my sons do some of the fool things I did when I was a young squirt! It was plain luck—with some pretty smart people advising me—that saved me from coming a lot of croppers. And I can’t take credit for that! Still, I wouldn’t change anything now. Not the way things are.”
Sober-sided people have been shaking their heads over Bing Crosby and his goings-on practically ever since he can remember, predicting that no good could possibly come of whatever he was up to at the moment. Why ‘way back when he was in his ‘teens and spent the money he had earned picking apples on a down payment for a set of drums instead of a good school suit, folks were pretty impatient with him. But to the amazement of everyone he earned enough money with those drums to buy all his clothes from that time on and to pay his way through preparatory school, besides.
by Liza Wilson
The American Weekly
July 10, 1955
“I was the cryingest baby in Smithton, Pennsylvania,” says Shirley Jones, the talented young singer who plays Laury in the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical Oklahoma!, recently filmed in Todd-AO process (a new wide angle photographic technique).
“I cried steadily for six years. The neighbors hated me. My mother and Dad were filled with despair. When they took me to doctors in nearby Pittsburgh, those learned men mearly shook their heads. ‘Mrs. Jones,’ they said, ‘you just have a natural born crier.’
“And I was taken home to weep some more. That’s the reason I’m an only child. My parents just couldn’t go through listening to so much racket a second time.”
Clooney The Singer
by Laurie Henshaw
If it hadn’t been for an Italian-American Saxophone player named Antonio Pestritto we might never have heard one of the finest voices to be raised in the postwar popular record market.
You want a number with a beat? Then put on Rosemary’s “Come On-a My House” or “Botch-a-me.” A children’s song perhaps? The try “Me and My Teddy Bear.”
Jazz tunes, love songs, novelties—Rosemary sings them all.
Not long after Jose Ferrer married Rosemary Clooney he had to leave her and go to new York for a series of plays at City Center. This left Rosie singing to herself, and in spite of her husband’s daily phone calls she felt cut off from the world. The wrose was the incht Jose called her from his hotel room. In the background she could hear the piano getting a workout and familiar voices raised in song. Self-pity enveloped Rosemary.
“You’re having fun,” she offered dismally.
“Sure,” said Jose. “Got your family here. Betty and Nicky.”
How The Lane Sisters Rose to Fame
Their devoted mother tells all. A blithe, moving saga of struggle and success.
by Cora B. Lane
March 15, 1939
At seventeen, when I was working on my brother’s newspaper in Indiana, I had one ambition: To become a big-city reporter. So I married and became a small-town housewife. In the course of time, mother of five girls: Leota, Martha, Lola, Rosemary, and Priscilla.
“If you’d just adopt four children,” Rosemary suggested hopefully once, very hopefully, “we’d have a baseball team!”