Sunday, October 11, 2026

BING AND THE SOLDIERS FAR FROM HOME

When Americans think of Bing Crosby, they often think of White Christmas, smooth vocals, and the golden age of radio. But during World War II, Crosby became something more than an entertainer. For thousands of American servicemen stationed far from home, he was a familiar voice that offered comfort, hope, and a reminder of what they were fighting to protect. 

Following the attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, the United States mobilized for war. Like millions of other Americans, Crosby wanted to contribute. Although he registered for the draft, his age and family status made active military service unlikely. Instead, government officials and military leaders recognized that he could serve the war effort more effectively through entertainment, fundraising, and morale-building activities.

Crosby's support began almost immediately. In January 1942, responding to a request connected to General Douglas MacArthur's forces in the Philippines, he transmitted his radio program by shortwave to American troops trapped at Corregidor. At a time when military news was grim and uncertainty filled the air, hearing a familiar American voice carried tremendous emotional value for soldiers thousands of miles from home. 

As the war continued, Crosby became one of the most active participants in the Armed Forces Radio Service. He appeared on military radio programs such as Command Performance, Mail Call, and GI Journal, helping deliver entertainment directly to American forces stationed around the world. More than simple variety shows, these broadcasts connected troops with the culture and personalities they remembered from home. 


His influence extended beyond the radio microphone. Crosby joined major war-support efforts, including the Hollywood Victory Caravan, a traveling show featuring some of the biggest names in entertainment. The tour raised substantial funds for military relief organizations while demonstrating Hollywood's commitment to the war effort.

Perhaps Crosby's most meaningful contribution came through his overseas USO tours. He spent approximately 25 weeks entertaining servicemen in Britain, France, and Belgium, often performing under difficult and unpredictable wartime conditions. Unlike a concert in a grand theater, many of these performances took place near military operations, where audiences consisted of men preparing for battle or recovering from its hardships.

One song became especially associated with Crosby and the wartime experience: White Christmas. Although written by Irving Berlin and first recorded by Crosby in 1942, the song carried a deeper meaning during the war years. To civilians, it evoked holiday nostalgia. To soldiers stationed overseas, it represented memories of family gatherings, hometown streets, and peaceful lives interrupted by war. 

During a December 1944 USO tour in Europe, Crosby performed for troops only days before the Battle of the Bulge. Reports from the period describe the emotional impact of hearing White Christmas in front of thousands of soldiers who longed to be home for the holidays. For many in the audience, the song became a powerful reminder of what awaited them when the war finally ended. 


The soldiers never forgot his efforts. At the end of World War II, readers of Yank, the Army's weekly magazine, voted Crosby the individual who had done the most to boost troop morale overseas. The recognition reflected not only his popularity but also the genuine connection he forged with the men and women serving their country. 

Years later, letters exchanged between Crosby and American servicemen revealed just how much his work meant. Many soldiers wrote to thank him for bringing moments of joy during some of the darkest days of the twentieth century. The correspondence showed that his contribution was not measured in military victories or battlefield achievements, but in something equally important: helping people maintain hope.

Today, Bing Crosby's wartime legacy stands as a reminder that service comes in many forms. While others carried rifles, flew bombers, or served aboard ships, Crosby helped sustain morale through music and friendship. His songs crossed oceans, reached foxholes and military camps, and gave countless Americans a brief but precious connection to home. In a world at war, that gift mattered more than words could express...



Sunday, September 27, 2026

PHOTOS OF THE DAY: BING IN THE RECORDING STUDIO

Bing Crosby was a giant among recording artists. Here are some candid shots of Bing at the recording studio...





with Judy Garland

with Frank Sinatra

with Eddie Condon



Sunday, September 6, 2026

BING CROSBY - THE EARLY DECCA YEARS

 Here is part three of an original production I did on the career and life of Bing Crosby...




Sunday, August 23, 2026

NEW CD: BING CROSBY - KRAFT MUSIC HALL TIME volume 3


This 2 CD set is a time capsule of Bing's halcyon radio days, drawing together a selection of songs from 1937-1946 that have never appeared on CD. Kraft Music Hall Time Volume 3 is a remarkable 2-CD collection preserving Bing Crosby's celebrated radio broadcasts from Kraft Music Hall between 1937 and 1946. Drawing together performances, introductions, and lighthearted banter that have largely never before appeared on CD, this set offers an authentic snapshot of Crosby at the height of his popularity during the golden age of American radio. Presented in digitally remastered sound, these recordings capture both his effortless vocal style and the relaxed charm that made him one of entertainment's most beloved personalities.

Spanning nearly a decade of broadcasts, the collection features an outstanding selection of standards, popular songs, Hawaiian melodies, patriotic favorites, and romantic ballads, reflecting the extraordinary versatility that defined Crosby's career. Alongside timeless performances of songs including 'Where the Blue of the Night,' 'Sleepy Lagoon,' 'It Might as Well Be Spring,' and 'I Can't Begin to Tell You,' listeners also experience the warmth and spontaneity of the original radio programs through preserved studio exchanges and commentary.

Released by Sepia Records, Kraft Music Hall Time Volume 3 serves as both an invaluable historical archive and an entertaining listening experience, making it an essential addition for Bing Crosby enthusiasts, collectors of vintage radio, and admirers of classic American popular music.

Track Listing
Disc 1:

Hail KMH
Smile, Darn Ya, Smile; Daddy, Dear Old Daddy
Delightful Delirium
To You Sweetheart Aloha
The Trail of the Lonesome Pine
Rendezvous with a Dream
Down Where the Trade Winds Blow
Let's Waltz for Old Time's Sake
Whistle While You Work
I'd Love to Live in Loveland
You're the Only Star in My Blue Heaven
Blow the Smoke Away (Then Your Pipe Goes Out)
The Flat Foot Floogie
Blue Orchids
Naturally
Small Fry
The Moon of Manakoora
Blues My Naughty Sweetie Gives to Me
Little Sir Echo
Where Are You?
Ti Pi Tin
Oh! You Crazy Moon
Thanks for Everything
You’re Here You’re There You’re Everywhere
My Little Buckaroo
That Old Feeling
I Simply Adore You
Summer Souvenirs
Two Bouquets
Where the Blue of the Night

Disc 2:
It's Love, Love, Love
When the Swallows Come Back to Capistrano
The Woodpecker Song
Sleepy Lagoon
Dream Valley
Saturday Night (Is the Loneliest Night of the Week)
Kentucky Babe
Yours
Careless
The Blues
Last Night's Gardenias
Together
Anchors Aweigh/The Marines' Hymn
You Are Too Beautiful
Wait and See
This Heart of Mine
Ridin’ Herd on a Cloud
It Might as Well be Spring
I Used to Love You (But It's all Over Now)
These Things You Left Me
My Heart Tells Me
Two Sleepy People
Dance with a Dolly
Shoo-Fly Pie and Apple Pan Dowdy
I Can't Begin to Tell You
Down By the Ohio
I Know That You Know
We Mustn't Say ‘Goodbye’
Additional Details

Friday, August 7, 2026

A SEASON TO HIS VOICE: BING'S SUMMER SONGS


There’s a certain kind of summer that doesn’t come from a thermometer or a calendar—it arrives on a breeze carrying music. And if you happen to wander into that golden, memory-lit season, chances are you’ll hear Bing Crosby somewhere in the distance, his voice drifting like warm air through an open window.

Bing Crosby wasn’t known as “the voice of summer” the way he was for Christmas, but listen a little closer and you’ll discover that he recorded songs that hold summer just as beautifully—songs that feel like lazy afternoons, porch swings, and the hum of cicadas at dusk.

One of Crosby’s most charming summer recordings is “In the Cool, Cool, Cool of the Evening” (1951), a duet with Jane Wyman that earned an Academy Award for Best Original Song. It’s not about blazing sunshine—it’s about what comes after. The song lives in that perfect twilight moment when the heat finally breaks. Crosby’s voice softens as if it, too, has been waiting all day for relief. He sings of plans made when the air turns gentle again—dancing, dreaming, and lingering outside just a little longer than you should. It captures the kind of summer evening where time stretches, where conversations drift, and where even silence feels companionable.

Though its title sounds contradictory, “June in January” plays like a love letter to summer itself—or rather, to the feeling of it. Crosby recorded the song in the mid-1930s, and it quickly became tied to his relaxed, romantic style. The idea is simple: true warmth doesn’t depend on the season. With the right person—or the right memory—it can feel like June even in the dead of winter. In Crosby’s hands, though, the imagery leans unmistakably summery. You can almost see it: soft light, open skies, and a world that feels easy and full of promise.


Crosby also recorded “Summertime,” the haunting lullaby from George Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess. His interpretation is gentler than some, less rooted in blues and more in a dreamy stillness. This version of summer isn’t playful—it’s languid. It’s the kind of day when the air is thick, when movement slows, and when everything feels suspended between sleep and waking. Crosby doesn’t push the song; he lets it float, revealing another face of summer—the quiet, heavy kind that wraps around you like a blanket you didn’t realize you needed.

Even when Crosby wasn’t singing explicitly about the season, his recordings often carried a summer sensibility. His phrasing was unhurried, his tone conversational, as if he were leaning back in a wicker chair rather than performing under hot stage lights. Songs like “Moonlight Becomes You” or “I’ll Be Seeing You” might not mention summer at all, but they feel like it—like evenings spent outdoors, watching the sky change colors while a radio hums softly in the background.

That was Crosby’s gift: he didn’t just interpret songs; he created space inside them—space for memory, for weather, for the listener’s own season to settle in.

Listening to Bing Crosby’s summer songs today feels less like revisiting a time period and more like stepping into a mood—one that hasn’t aged so much as mellowed. His summer isn’t loud or frenetic. There are no crashing waves or blaring horns. Instead, it’s made of small, enduring moments: the first cool breeze after sunset, laughter carried across a yard, and the quiet satisfaction of not needing to be anywhere else.

In a world that often rushes from one season to the next, Crosby’s recordings invite you to linger, to let summer unfold at its own pace, and to remember that sometimes the most meaningful warmth isn’t the one that burns the brightest, but the one that stays with you long after the sun has gone down. And if you listen carefully, you might find that summer—his summer—is still playing...



Sunday, July 26, 2026

BING'S HITS: 1931

In the depths of the Great Depression, American households turned to radio and phonographs for escape, reassurance, and a sense of connection. In 1931, no voice offered those comforts more consistently or more successfully than Bing Crosby’s. That year marked the moment Crosby stepped fully into the spotlight as a solo artist and emerged as the most dominant recording star in the country. More than a commercial breakthrough, 1931 reshaped popular music itself, changing how singers performed and how audiences listened.

Crosby entered the year at a critical turning point. Having recently separated himself from constant big-band affiliation, he embraced a style that felt radically different from the booming, theatrical voices popular at the time. Crosby sang gently, conversationally, and intimately, leaning into the microphone rather than overpowering it. Listeners immediately noticed the difference, and record sales followed. By year’s end, Crosby was not just successful—he was ubiquitous, appearing on more of the year’s most popular records than any other artist.

One of the earliest signs of this dominance came with “Out of Nowhere.” Released in the spring of 1931, the ballad became Crosby’s first solo number-one record, rising to the top of the charts as listeners embraced its effortless warmth and emotional restraint. The success of the song proved that Crosby could carry a hit entirely on his own, without the identity or momentum of a famous orchestra behind him. It was a turning point for both his career and the recording industry.


Momentum continued almost immediately with “Just One More Chance,” a tender plea of longing that again reached the top of the charts later that summer. The song’s quiet vulnerability resonated powerfully with audiences struggling through economic uncertainty. Crosby did not dramatize heartbreak; he humanized it, and that distinction helped his records stand out amid a crowded musical landscape.

Perhaps the most revolutionary hit of Crosby’s landmark year was “At Your Command.” The recording was strikingly minimal, featuring only Crosby’s voice accompanied by piano. In an era when lush orchestras were considered essential to commercial success, the song’s climb to number one was nothing short of astonishing. “At Your Command” demonstrated that a singer’s personality and phrasing could matter more than volume or size, cementing Crosby’s role as a pioneer of modern popular singing.

Another major success in 1931 was Crosby’s interpretation of “Dancing in the Dark.” The song showcased a sophisticated elegance that expanded his appeal beyond romantic ballads and further solidified his reputation as a versatile vocalist. By this point, Crosby recordings were not isolated hits but part of a steady, uninterrupted presence on the airwaves.

By the end of the year, Crosby had placed an extraordinary number of recordings among the nation’s best sellers and was officially recognized as the top recording artist of 1931. His achievements were not the result of novelty or a fleeting trend. Instead, they reflected a deeper shift in how popular music connected with listeners. Crosby’s relaxed phrasing, emotional understatement, and technical mastery of the microphone would influence generations of singers who followed, from Frank Sinatra onward.

Looking back, what makes Crosby’s success in 1931 especially remarkable is that it was only the beginning. The year launched a recording career that would span more than four decades, redefine vocal performance, and produce hundreds of hit records. Yet all of that legacy traces back to this pivotal moment, when a calm, unforced voice quietly transformed American popular music and became the soundtrack of a nation searching for reassurance...



Sunday, July 5, 2026

BING AND HIS MOST SUCCESSFUL MOVIES


Long before box-office weekends were measured in superhero billions, success in Hollywood meant something a little different. It meant longevity, audience devotion, and the rare ability to make moviegoers feel at home the moment you appeared on screen. Few actors embodied that kind of success more completely than Bing Crosby—a relaxed, warm, velvet-voiced star whose films defined popular entertainment from the 1930s through the 1950s. Crosby didn’t just star in hits; he helped shape entire genres. From heartfelt dramas to sparkling musicals and riotous road comedies, his most successful movies reveal why he became one of the highest-grossing and most reliable stars in American film history.

Going My Way (1944): The Role That Defined Him

If one film cemented Bing Crosby’s legacy, it was Going My Way. Playing the easygoing, modern-minded Father Chuck O’Malley, Crosby delivered a performance that felt effortless but deeply affecting. The film struck a nerve with wartime audiences eager for comfort, humor, and hope.

Its success was staggering. Going My Way became the top-grossing movie of 1944 and went on to win seven Academy Awards, including Best Picture and Best Actor for Crosby. More than trophies, the film established Crosby as a symbol of calm wisdom and decency—an image that would follow him for the rest of his career.

The Bells of St. Mary’s (1945): Lightning Strikes Twice

Few sequels surpass their predecessors, but The Bells of St. Mary’s came remarkably close. Reuniting Crosby with his priestly character and pairing him with Ingrid Bergman, the film expanded the emotional stakes while maintaining warmth and humor.

Incredibly, it outperformed Going My Way at the box office, becoming the highest-grossing film of 1945. Audiences returned not just for the story, but for Crosby himself, whose presence had become a guarantee of quality and reassurance in uncertain times.


Holiday Inn (1942): A Song That Changed Movie History

Holiday Inn might have been successful even without Crosby—but it’s impossible to imagine the film without him. Playing a song-and-dance man who retreats to the countryside, Crosby delivered one of the most famous musical performances of all time: the original rendition of “White Christmas.”

The film was a major hit, but its cultural impact proved even more enduring. The song would go on to become the best-selling single in recorded music history, tying Crosby forever to the sound of the holidays—and helping make Holiday Inn a perennial favorite.

White Christmas (1954): Old Hollywood at Its Grandest

By the 1950s, Crosby was no longer just a star—he was an institution. White Christmas, filmed in dazzling Technicolor and VistaVision, paired him with Danny Kaye in a lavish musical celebration of friendship, romance, and nostalgia.

The result was a phenomenon. White Christmas became the highest-grossing film of 1954, and for many viewers, it came to embody the very idea of the classic Hollywood musical. Crosby’s relaxed charisma anchored the spectacle, proving that even in a changing industry, audiences still wanted him front and center.

The Road to… Movies: Comedy Gold with Bob Hope

No discussion of Crosby’s success is complete without the Road pictures, his long-running comedy partnership with Bob Hope. Films like Road to Morocco (1942) and Road to Utopia (1946) were gleefully self-aware, anarchic, and wildly popular.

Commercially, they were dependable hits. Creatively, they showed Crosby’s underrated comic timing and willingness to poke fun at his own screen persona. Together, Crosby and Hope formed one of Hollywood’s most profitable and beloved duos.


High Society (1956): A Graceful Finale

One of Crosby’s last major film successes, High Society allowed him to revisit familiar territory—a lighthearted musical remake—while sharing the screen with Grace Kelly, Frank Sinatra, and Louis Armstrong. The film was a box-office success and served as a fitting late-career triumph.

By this point, Crosby had little left to prove. His success was no longer about dominance, but about refinement and legacy.

Bing Crosby’s most successful films weren’t just hits on release—they became cultural touchstones. They offered humor during war, music that endured across generations, and performances that felt natural in an industry built on glamour and excess.

Crosby’s genius wasn’t flash or intensity. It was ease. And in movie after movie, that ease translated into enormous success—both commercial and emotional. Long after the box-office receipts faded, his films kept playing on televisions, during holidays, and in the collective memory of Hollywood itself.

That, ultimately, may be the greatest measure of his success...

Sunday, June 28, 2026

REMEMBERING ANN BLYTH (1928-2006)

 This past week Ann Blyth died at the age of 97. She starred with Bing Crosby in the 1949 film Top O' The Morning. Her greatest role though was came a few years earlier in Mildred Pierce (1945). RIP Ann Blyth...






Sunday, June 21, 2026

BING AND GRACE KELLY: A HOLLYWOOD ROMANCE

Hollywood has always thrived on the electricity between its stars—the glances that linger a second too long, the chemistry that feels almost too real. Few pairings embodied that quiet spark more intriguingly than Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly, whose connection in the mid‑1950s existed somewhere between rumor, respect, and a fleeting moment in time.

Their story is not one of grand scandal or documented love letters. Instead, it’s a subtler tale—of timing, admiration, and the kind of romantic “what if” that only Hollywood can produce.

By the time Bing Crosby met Grace Kelly, he was already an institution. With a crooning voice that defined a generation, Crosby had conquered radio, records, and film. He was in his early fifties, recently widowed after the death of his wife Dixie Lee in 1952, and navigating a more introspective phase of his life.

Grace Kelly, on the other hand, was ascending—fast. In her early twenties, she possessed a rare blend of poise and vulnerability that set her apart from the typical Hollywood ingénue. Though her screen image was cool and controlled, those who worked with her often remarked on her warmth and seriousness beneath the surface.


They met in 1953 during the filming of The Country Girl, a dramatic departure for both actors. Crosby played a troubled, alcoholic performer struggling with his demons, while Kelly portrayed his long-suffering wife—an unglamorous, emotionally complex role that would earn her an Academy Award.


On screen, their relationship was raw and convincing. Off screen, the atmosphere was quieter but charged. Crosby reportedly admired Kelly’s discipline and intelligence, while Kelly respected Crosby’s professionalism and generosity as a co-star. He was known to look after younger actors, and with Kelly, that mentorship seemed tinged with something gentler and more personal.

Hollywood gossip columns, ever eager for a narrative, began to whisper. Was there something more between them? The truth remains elusive. Friends and biographers suggest that if there was romance, it was restrained—shaped by circumstance as much as by feeling. Crosby was still emotionally anchored to his late wife’s memory, and Kelly was navigating a demanding career under intense studio scrutiny.

What did exist, unmistakably, was mutual affection.

If Hollywood romances often fail because of bad timing, Crosby and Kelly are a textbook case. Within a year of The Country Girl’s release, Grace Kelly’s life changed forever. In 1956, she married Prince Rainier III of Monaco, stepping away from Hollywood at the peak of her career to become a real-life princess.

Crosby would go on to remarry in 1957, finding stability and companionship later in life. Their paths diverged gracefully, without public heartbreak or dramatic fallout—just the quiet understanding that some connections are meant to remain moments, not marriages.

What makes the Crosby–Kelly story endure is not proof of an affair, but the emotional authenticity captured on film. In The Country Girl, their performances feel lived-in and deeply personal, as though something real was being carefully held just beneath the dialogue.


For audiences, that authenticity reads as romance—even if it never fully crossed that line in real life.

Perhaps that is the truest kind of Hollywood love story: not one defined by headlines, but by restraint; not consumed by passion, but illuminated by respect. Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly shared a moment when their lives briefly overlapped, and the echo of that moment still lingers in classic cinema.

In the end, their romance—real or imagined—lives where most Hollywood legends do: somewhere between fact and feeling, preserved forever in black-and-white frames and whispered memories of an era when stars still seemed untouchable...