BING & CONNEE BOSWELL: A HARMONY BEYOND TIME

The year was 1937, and the airwaves were alive with the sound of swing. Bing Crosby, already a household name with his warm, easygoing baritone, was redefining popular singing. Across the country, Connee Boswell—formerly the heart of the Boswell Sisters—was stepping into her own spotlight. Her voice carried a jazz-inflected elegance, a playful lilt that could turn even the simplest melody into something unforgettable.

When Bing and Connee first met in a Los Angeles studio, it wasn’t just another session. Bing, ever the gentleman, greeted her with that trademark grin and a casual, “Ready to make some magic?” Connee, seated in her wheelchair—her disability never dimming her spirit—shot back with a mischievous smile: “Only if you can keep up.”

The microphone crackled to life, and the band struck up the opening bars of “Bob White (Whatcha Gonna Swing Tonight?)”. What followed was pure chemistry. Bing’s voice flowed like a calm river, steady and reassuring, while Connee’s danced around his lines—syncopated, teasing, full of swing. The duet soared to #2 on the charts, and listeners couldn’t get enough of their playful banter woven into melody.

Over the next few years, their partnership blossomed. They recorded “Alexander’s Ragtime Band”, a spirited Irving Berlin classic that hit #1 and even raised funds for polio research—a cause close to Connee’s heart. Then came “An Apple for the Teacher”, a cheeky tune that had audiences grinning from coast to coast. Each song was more than a recording; it was a conversation between two artists who understood each other’s rhythms.

Offstage, Bing often spoke of Connee as one of his favorite female vocalists. “She’s got something no one else has,” he told a reporter. “That phrasing—she swings without trying.” Connee, in turn, admired Bing’s generosity in the studio. He never overshadowed her; instead, he created space for her artistry to shine.

Their collaborations weren’t confined to records. Radio listeners tuned in to hear them on programs like Kraft Music Hall, where their duets brought warmth and wit into American homes during uncertain times. For many, those broadcasts were a lifeline—a reminder that joy could still be found in harmony.

As the 1940s dawned and musical tastes shifted, Bing and Connee’s paths diverged. Yet their recordings remain timeless, echoing an era when music was intimate, playful, and profoundly human. Today, when you hear “Basin Street Blues” or “Between 18th and 19th on Chestnut Street”, you’re not just listening to notes—you’re hearing a friendship, a shared love of song, and a moment in history that still swings...

KEN TWISS AND THE BING CROSBY HISTORICAL SOCIETY

In the decades following Bing Crosby’s death in 1977, few individuals have done more to preserve his legacy than Ken Twiss, founder and president of the Bing Crosby Historical Society (BCHS). Established in 1978 in Tacoma, Washington, the BCHS began as a passionate fan club but quickly evolved into a vital institution dedicated to chronicling the life and career of one of the 20th century’s most influential entertainers. 

Ken Twiss was more than a fan—he was a steward of Crosby’s memory. Under his leadership, the BCHS published quarterly newsletters titled The Crooner, which featured articles on Crosby’s life, career milestones, and updates from the society. These newsletters became a cherished resource for fans and historians alike, offering insights and anecdotes that might otherwise have faded into obscurity. 

Twiss also organized annual gatherings that brought together fans, scholars, and even individuals who had known Crosby personally. These events were more than celebrations—they were forums for storytelling, remembrance, and community building. One notable tribute in 1983 featured Carolyn Schneider, a relative of Crosby, and was praised for its heartfelt execution by Twiss and fellow organizer Frank McMahon. 

At its peak, the Bing Crosby Historical Society operated a small museum that housed memorabilia, photographs, correspondence, and other artifacts related to Crosby’s life. Though modest in size, the museum served as a tangible connection to the crooner’s legacy. Visitors could explore items that spanned Crosby’s career—from his early days in Spokane to his Hollywood triumphs. 

Unfortunately, due to lack of funding, the museum closed in 1993, marking the end of an era. However, Twiss ensured that the society’s archival materials were preserved. He personally transferred the BCHS records to the Northwest Room of the Tacoma Public Library, safeguarding them for future generations. 

While the BCHS itself is no longer active, its impact endures. In 1993, Gonzaga University—Crosby's alma mater—received the entire BCHS collection, which now forms part of the world’s largest public collection of Bing Crosby memorabilia. This includes gold and platinum records, photographs, awards, and even a duplicate Oscar for Going My Way. 

Ken Twiss’s dedication laid the groundwork for ongoing efforts to honor Crosby’s legacy. Organizations like the Bing Crosby Advocates in Spokane continue this mission, hosting events and maintaining Crosby’s childhood home as a museum. 

Ken Twiss’s work with the Bing Crosby Historical Society exemplifies how one person’s passion can preserve cultural history. Through newsletters, events, and archival preservation, Twiss ensured that Bing Crosby’s contributions to music, film, and American culture would not be forgotten. His efforts remain a testament to the enduring power of fandom, memory, and historical stewardship...