'Sh! I Can't Tell That One on the Air'

The Milwaukee Journal – Oct 13, 1940    Browse this newspaper>>            Browse all newspapers>>

'Sh! I Can't Tell That One on the Air'

By Edgar A. Thompson Of The Journal Staff

THE funny little guy in “soup and fish” pointed his funny nose at the buffet luncheon and plowed through the movie and radio stars at the “Knute Rockne” premiere at South Bend, Ind.

“Oh! There’s Mrs. Hope!” screamed a woman and she rushed up to him with a friend. “Look, George! Here’s Bob Hope! Ha, ha, ha, isn’t he funny for us Bob – we enjoy your broadcasts so much but do he funny for us now!”

Hope gave her that “I just missed a three inch putt” look and said, “I’m sorry, lady, but I’m only human and right now I’m hungry and interested in my stomach and not my belly to beans, ham, potato salad, bread, olives celery and a fork. I caught him between the bread and olives.

We shook hands and I got the buttered, side of the bread. So I said: “Look, Bob, how do you get away with it?”

He grinned and gulped a bean. “That’s what they all want to know. But I do. And you can’t tell me people don’t like jokes a little shady.”

“But you must have had some complaints,” this Poritan argued. “Charlie McCarthy’s Mae West broadcast got enough squawks. How many have you had?”

“Not a one,” Hope said. “I’ve never had a single complaint.”

“Not even about that one on Santa Claus and the blond in the patio?”

“Nope, and I’d be surprised if I had. They way I figured people is that they like to hear an off-color story. If they hear it on the air, they’ll laugh at it, slap their knees and say ‘Boy, how does he get away with it?’ and then laugh some more.”

“Then how do you explain the McCarthy thing?”

“I don’t. But I aim jokes at the intelligent people in the audience. The gags are fast and the people listening have to be over every joke in my script. Some of them were left out, but a lot of them got in – and look at the result. My survey rating puts me right up with the first three shows on the air. That’s what counts when option time comes around.”

“But how about your sponsor?” I asked, still unable to understand the apathy of Tuesday night audiences. “Doesn’t he find a reaction against night club humor?”

“No,” Hope replied. “But this year he told me to ease up on where it’s nice and comfortable, so he told me not to fight to keep those shady bits in the script. I’ve got five boys writing for me and they still turn out gags with a wallop but if the censor protests out comes the joke. But the intelligent audience is still listening for them, and dying every time they hear one.”

Just then one of the “intelligent audience” interrupted. The slightly damp gentleman crowded in with “Shay, Hope, wash this feller trying’ do to your act” Ish he tryin’ cramp your style, huh?

“No, no, it’s all right,” Hope said. “We’re just talking over old times.”

“Walll,” the intruder drooled, “don’ lettem change a shingle gag. I run a theayter over in lnyaphs and I play all your pitchers. It’s the only time I make money. Lemmo  tell ya something. The peepul like your shtuff on th’ air or they wooden come to shee your pitchers at my theayter. Jush don’ pay no tenshun to this guy.” And with that, one of the intelligent members of Hope’s audience weaved back to the soda fountain, but Hope had been swerved to thoughts of his movies and he took a verbal mashie shot out of the rough.

“You know,” he said, “I still can’t get over the way my pictures draw at the box and spend the rest of the week telling their friends about the program and won-

If they aren’t intelligent, they don’t get the jokes and of course they won’t write.

“I used to battle with the network censor office. They may not be terrific in the big cities but when they hit the towns and villages they draw like ‘Gone With the Wind’.”

“But those early pictures – Ouch! That ‘Big Broadcast’ thing still haunts me. And now they’ve dug it up again and are showing it with my name as the headliner. It’s murder and I asked the studio not to do it, but they did, so I guess I’ll just have to hope for the best.”

The “Big Broadcast of 1938” is a reminder of the days when Bob had to take any picture that came along. He was assigned to “College Swing” and “Give Me a Sailor” and didn’t like them, but he had to do them. Then along came radio and almost overnight success. In two years time he has changed from assignments to getting the pick of the pictures at Paramount. He was to have left South Bend to make another picture with Paulette Goddard, but he didn’t like the story, said so, and it was shelved.

As a result, he’ll do nothing but broadcast and play golf until some time in November, when he’s to do “The Road to Zanzthar” with Bing Crosby and Dorothy Lamour. The film will be a sequel to the trio’s highly successful “Road to Singapore.”

“We’ll probably do the ‘Road to Burma’ if they get the thing opened. If not, it may be the ‘Road to Mandalay’ or some equally profitable piece of corn.”

That’s as close as Hope comes to speaking of profits. Mention money and he begins to shy away, although he did make a gag out of his income at the Notre Dame dinner. “I don’t pay income tax any more” he told his audience, “I just ask the government how much it needs!”

It’s widely known, however, that Hope’s radio program pays him high in six figures each year and his movie work gives the annual income another boost upward. But money isn’t everything to him in fact, he misses making more because of friendship.

He came all the way from Hollywood to South Bend to act as master of ceremonies at the Kaute Rockie premiere just because he was asked to do it by his very good friend, Pat O’Brien.

“We were out playing golf one day, and Pat lined up a couple fellows from Warner Brothers to complete the foursome,” he says “I could see something was going to happen, but they worked it so slick I decided to fall for the trip. It’s been fun, and as long as I get in my golf I’m happy I played 36 holes today, so I figured I haven’t lost a dime and besides, Pat is going to be on my program to repay the kindness (O’Brien appeared last Tuesday) That’ll give my sponsor that extra guest star money for more irium.”

The smart young Mr. Hope may have figured out this repayment of kindness thing fairly well, at that. Not long ago he acted as major domo at Sam Goldwyn’s Texas premiere of “The Westerner.” The job might have netted him $5,000 to $10,000, but he says “Pay” Nothing doing. I did it free I went  because I like Mr. Goldwyn!”

He admits it may have lost him $10,000, but be slyly mentions being signed at ready by Sam Goldwyn for a musical film next summer at $100,000 for one picture!