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MY VERY FIRST MEMORY Is the ocean, wild and restless, and my mother leaning over me, trying to persuade me to go in. I was about three and a half. We were on the beach, with sand all around us. The waves leaping high terrified me. I kept crying: “No! No!” but my mother laughed. I can still feel that cold fright that choked me when she ducked me under the water. UNTIL I WAS NINE That underlying fear of water followed me. By that time I was going with other boys who had fun in the ocean. I felt I must do what they did. I still hated going in, but I went. The dread was with me for weeks, but I wouldn’t let anyone know. I’LL NEVER FORGET The day I was free of that fear. I could swim and dive and play in water like the other kids. It was wonderful. I THINK That experience gave me a taste for overcoming obstacles. I can not bear to let anything lick me. If it’s hard—if I dread it—I can’t rest until I’ve made myself go through with it. I LIKE Candles on dinner tables, Coney Island, driftwood fires, books bound in limp leather, the bobby sox set, music with my meals, music any time and any place. I WISH I KNEW How to read music; How to play the piano. I could have had lessons when I was a kid, but I was too impatient. “Heck, sit on a piano stool for an hour every day? Nothing doing!” I had time to study then, but I wouldn’t. I could kick myself when I remember. |
 
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MY FIRST AMBITION Was to be an engineer; a civil engineer or an electrical engineer, I wasn’t sure which. My dad wanted me to study engineering, so perhaps I took it for granted that it was my ambition. I was always singing and I loved it, but it didn’t occur to me that music could be a career. So I went through high school with the engineering idea. I studied it for six months and discovered that I never had a night to myself. “That’s not for me!” I decided, and walked away from it. WHEN I WAS A KID I was crazy about group singing; a quartet, three men in a barbershop, any bunch of people tuning up together got my attention. In high school, I found out about Glee Clubs and joined. Pretty soon I was in there suggesting new ideas for group singing. I’d say: “Look-I’ve got an angle!” So they started calling me “Angles” I went through high school under that name. I USED TO Book bands to play at our high school. The school could pay for them, but nobody else wanted to take the trouble to book them. So when I signed a band, I’d say: “I’ll sing with you!” And I did. I LOVE TO REMEMBER The summer I was fifteen. That was the year I met Nancy and we fell in love. I saw her on and off for the next four or five years, then we married. But that summer was the beginning of our romance. I can still remember the way the moon shone on those little crimped wet rims on the sand where waves had made a pattern, and that salty smell of the sea when I’d leap down the wooden steps to meet her in the early morning. THE TURNING POINT OF MY LIFE Was the day I married Nancy. MY MOST EXCITING MOMENT Was the day we got married. If any man’s not excited on his wedding day, he’s crazy! I ENJOY Prize fights, boogie-woogie, playing golf, a glass of milk and a piece of pie; playing with my babies and buying pretty things for my wife. I’M GUILTY OF Flying off the handle—and being sorry I flew. I like capable people, and it drives me mad when those who work for me forget or neglect simple tasks. I get in a jam, somebody’s hurt, and I’m furious. I’m over it in a minute—but there it is! I LIKE Basket ball, bowling, organizing things; Those fans who have been faithful to me for years, long before November, 1942, when my publicity first began; Pantomime. I know I can get a point over quicker with pantomime than with words. I use it on the screen and on the stage in personal appearances. I even use it on broadcasts, for my own amusement. I use it on hospital tours, army camp shows, overseas entertainments. I AGREE With John Galsworthy than an accidental move can change your life. I was singing at a road house in New Jersey in 1939 for $25 a week. I usually had Monday night off, while the girl singer took her night off on Tuesday. One week she asked me to change nights—she had a date. I said “Okay!” So I was there that Monday night when Harry James walked in. He had organized a band and was looking for a boy to sing. He took me. If I hadn’t changed nights, I’d never have met him. I’LL NEVER FORGET The time legal proceedings temporarily curtailed the band’s salaries. We were in California, we had no savings, knew nobody there, and our first baby was on her way. Nancy had developed an appetite for ham sandwiches and apple pie, and asked for them one night when I hadn’t a cent in my pockets. I gathered up and cashed in all the empty pop bottles in the building to satisfy her. I’M MAD ABOUT Music. I have five or six hundred albums filled with records. My favorites are Debussy, Ravel, Rachmaninoff and Wagner. I’m a rabid concert fan. I love ballet. I love all the arts and I’m envious of people who excel in any of them. I PLAN TO Expose my children to a sound musical training. Maybe it’ll take. I ADMIRE John Charles Thomas, because he’s a great singer; Orson Welles, because he has tremendous imagination. I think he’s a genius; Bing Crosby, because he’s a swell person besides being a swell singer; Nancy—she’s beautiful and sweet, and besides, she’s the ideal home-maker. She cooks all our meals. The other day, I brought in a new sort of bow tie I’d found in New York, and inside half an hour Nancy had copied it for me in different material. OUR HOUSE IN CALIFORNIA Could have been a mistake, if it hadn’t been for Nancy. She was in the east when I bought it. I chose it chiefly because it was on Toluca Lake, where the family could enjoy the water. I thought I’d have fun teaching Nancy Sandra, aged five, and Frank, junior, now eighteen months old, to swim. The house wasn’t ideal, but there was a housing shortage. Nancy was appalled when she first walked in, and I saw it then through her eyes—depressing with its dark beams and dark walls, its cold, slippery tiled floors and stairs, with their danger to the children; the light shut out by heavy dark velvet draperies. I was away part of the time, so most of the credit goes to Nancy for transforming that dismal house into a lovely, cheerful, inviting spot. Nancy had holes drilled into the tile to fasten down soft green carpets over floors and stairs, so the children wouldn’t fall as they ran. She had ceilings and walls painted in light creams and pastels, gay flowered chintz hung at the windows, and furniture upholstered in warm bright shades. She couldn’t use much of the furniture from our eastern home, because the formality of heavy old mahogany didn’t fit the bright informality of California. I’VE BEEN INTERESTED In fighters all my life. My father fought under the name of Marty O’Brien and my uncle was well-known as Babe Segar. I own a chunk of heavyweight fighter, Tami Mauriello. And my favorite exercise is boxing. I’D LIKE TO See my daughter, Nancy Sandra, acknowledged as a great harpist. She’s only five, and I don’t know if she’ll care about a harp-but that’s one of my dreams. I LOVE Children—mine and other people’s. For kids, I’m a pushover. I CAN’T STAND Bureau drawers slightly open, knives and forks out of line, books in untidy heaps. I’m an automatic straighten-upper. I ENJOY RIBBING On “Anchors Aweigh,” the first day on the set, I found a sign on my dressing room door: “Bing Crosby” I suspected Gene Kelly, so changed his sign to read: “Pat Rooney.” The first time we saw each other, we emerged from our rooms and came face to face under our fake signs. What a laugh. GENE KELLY TAUGHT ME To dance for our picture. Routines were so strenuous that I lost four pounds in our first rehearsals, and my sailor uniform hung on me. Wardrobe took it in, neatly. I drank six malted milks a day for two weeks and gained back eight pounds. Then I couldn’t get into my uniform! AMONG MY FAVORITE MEMORIES ARE That night in Hollywood Bowl when I sang before 10,000 people. There had been quite a controversy about my singing’ in the Bowl, and I was a little nervous and a little worried; then when I got there, it was SO wonderful. That day I met our late great President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, and had tea at the White House. When I neared him in the line, he cried: “Look, who’s here!” and when we shook hands, he laughed in his unforgettable way and whispered: “How’s about telling me what’s first on the ‘Hit Parade’ this week? I won’t tell anybody!” THE FIRST THING I NOTICE About a person is whether he has warmth. I shy away from aloof people. I don’t understand them. You see, I go overboard to make friends with everyone—so I like warmth. MY GREATEST HERO Is FDR. I AM PROUD OF My association with his cause, and of the autographed picture he gave me. MY BEST ADVICE Came from Mervyn LeRoy. Returning from New York this year, he, Frank Ross and I fell into conversation. I had been traveling around giving lectures before high school and other groups on my favorite subject, “Tolerance,” and we discussed that. “You’re wasting, your time,” Mr. LeRoy told me. “You could reach a thousand times more people if you told your story on the screen.” The three of us decided to make a short, each contributing his services: Mr. Ross as producer, Mr. LeRoy as director, and myself as actor. Albert Maltz, who wrote “The Cross In The Arrow” wrote the script. Our short, “The House I Live In,” is now ready for release. I HAVE FUN Making odd pieces of furniture; I’ve finished a few of the many items I plan to make for the house; Painting, I’ve painted the boat, my little landing and my float on the lake; Planning a Musical Scholarship Award Idea, whereby four-year musical scholarships will be awarded annually to deserving students. Such a thing would have meant the world to me once, and I hope some day it will help other kids on their way up. I CAN’T Seem to hang onto money. The more money I earn, the more ways I see to spend it to make long-cherished ideas come true. I get so enthusiastic, I forget what ideas cost. SOME DAY I’ll write a book, which I’ll inscribe: “All That I Have, I Owe Period.” |
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