Wednesday, 8 April 2020

Catching Up With Bob Hope

There was a time Bob Hope was funny. And there was a time when he wasn’t.

Hope’s rise to fame may have been as a result of the movie The Big Broadcast of 1938 (in which he sang “Thanks for the Memory” for the first time), but he became a superstar through the “Road” pictures with Bing Crosby, his endless tours of military spots during World War Two, and his radio show where he could stop things with an ad-lib that was likely funnier than anything his writers came up with.

As he moved into the 1970s, it seemed like he was going through the motions with his comedy films, and his TV specials became larded with college patriotic marching bands, cheerleaders, non-actors, sweetened audience reactions, and far-too-obvious attempts at deciphering Barney McNulty’s cue cards. Hope, perhaps unfairly, was labelled an over-the-hill war-monger, but if you watched him on TV in the later years, it was clear he was past his prime and should bow out, gracefully or otherwise.

Here’s a Hope interview from September 25, 1966. In my opinion, Hope had jumped the you-know-what by then; his TV shows from the early ‘50s could be pretty funny.

Woe to the Golf Ball! Hope's Mortal Enemy
By BOB ROSE
Special Press Writer
HOLLYWOOD—About the only thing Bob Hope is mean to, outside of Bing Crosby, is a little white sphere on a patch of green grass.
"Ah, golf. That's where I get rid of my aggressions. That ball is my enemy and I attack it. Makes my psyche better. And of course, everybody's concerned about that," he says.
We here talking about the many sides of Bob Hope—comedian, father and Public Good Guy No. 1—over lunch in his dressing room on the set of his new movie, "Eight on the Lam."
"Mama sent this over," Hope said, pointing to a roast capon, dish of fresh peas and salad. "She doesn't like me to eat that commissary food. Oh, how right she is."
After Hope awkwardly hacked away at the bird ("Hmm. I better stay away from brain surgery.") And served his publicity man (Bill Faith. That's right, Hope and Faith) and me. The conversation then turned to his comedy nemesis Bing Crosby. "A really great guy," said Hope.
HOPE HAS been doing his put-down gags about Crosby since their first radio days. The comedy ritual is 30 years old and, frankly, Hope gets a little tired of it some times.
"But people want me to throw some gags at Bing. They are disappointed when I don't."
And you wonder if he could stop if he wanted to:
"Let's see, I first met Bing back in 1932 when we appeared on the same vaudeville bill. He was known as the Cremo cigar crooner. Cremo cigars! Well, I guess he fixed them. They aren't around any more."
Some other, more shapely, figures out of Bob Hope's past will appear with him on his first of five television specials of the year on NBC on Wednesday, Sept. 28. His staff managed to round up 15 of his former leading ladies gals like Lucille Ball, Joan Fontaine, Hedy Lamarr, Signe Hasso, Joan Collins, Virginia Mayo, Vera Miles and, of course, Dorothy Lamour (11 Hope movies, including 7 "On the Road to Morocco" etc., etc.). plus his present leading ladies, Jill St. John and ("wait a minute, how did she get in here?") Phyllis Diller.
HOPE'S 51ST movie, "Boy, Did I Get a Wrong Number," which co-stars Miss Diller, is doing well in its second run around the movie houses. His 52nd, "Eight on the Lam," also stars Miss Diller, Jonathan Winters and Jill St. John.
"It's nice to get a picture out now and again," Hope says. "I like to remind people that I began as a paid comedian."
Hope does so many benefits and so much USO touring, the requests he gets for even more days than there are in a year. But he has a business side too. On the phone to an agent, he said:
"Yeah, but let's see if you can't get them to come up with some more scratch. Standing ovations are fine, but you can't put them in the bank."
But just a few days ago Hope donated a $500,000 tract of land for the new Eisenhower Medical Center near Palm Springs.
HOPE, now turned 63, celebrated the 25th anniversary of his first USO show, at March Field, by doing another at the same spot. He also is planning his umpteenth Christmas show for the troops overseas ("I get more out of it than the kids. The experiences are unforgettable").
Despite his go-go life, Hope has found time to take a big part in the raising of his four kids.
"Delores is a wonderful mama."
One daughter, Linda, is in Japan finishing a documentary ("she's $20,000 over budget already; I'll be ruined"); another, Nora, works in public relations at NBC; a son, Kelly, 18, is expected to go into the service soon.
The oldest son, Tony, 25, was admitted to the bar in California a few weeks ago, and both parents were proudly on hand at the ceremonies.
"I think it's important to have an attorney in the family," Hope quipped. "You've seen my act."

3 comments:

  1. I kind of mark Hope's decline as starting after audiences failed to warm to his two more serious biographical roles in the mid-1950s, "Beau James" and "The Seven Little Foys". It seemed like (as is the case for a lot of comedians) he wanted to broaden his range, but the audience wanted to keep seeing the Hope they loved from the late 1930s through the early 50s.

    Once you get past those two movies, his remaining films just have a going-through-the-motions feel to them as pale imitations of his movies from the 40s and early 50s (even reuniting with his 'Paleface' writer/director Frank Tashlin didn't help), and the TV shows started on their downward trajectory in the humor department by no later than the early 1960s

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  2. I was one of those '70s kids who knew Hope only as the host of some lame TV specials. I'd have never followed up on his movie work if Woody Allen hadn't continually sung his praises. Movies such as SON OF PALEFACE and the ROAD pictures are hilarious. It's hard to believe they starred the same guy.

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  3. Hans Christian Brando10 April 2020 at 18:49

    The nadir was the last TV special. He was pretty senile by then and was fed an AIDS joke (involving the Statue of Liberty) by his writers. He saw out his days sitting in the car like a dog in the parking lot of the Vons supermarket on Pass Street in Burbank while the driver when in and shopped.

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