In recent years, letters from Bing to soldiers fighting in World War II have been discovered, and it shows what a caring man Bing was. The war and the plight of these brave men affected Bing greatly...
Showing posts with label 1945. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1945. Show all posts
Sunday, June 30, 2024
Sunday, January 8, 2017
BARRY FITZGERALD - 1945
Here is a charming article that appeared in the New York Times on January 14, 1945. It detailed actor Barry Fitzgerald's rise in fame and how he dealt with it...
Fitzgerald Meets Fame — and He Frowns
By FRED STANLEY
HOLLYWOOD — In Hollywood these days everyone, it seems, is excited about Barry Fitzgerald - except Barry Fitzgerald. On the basis of his performance as the whimsical, petulant old parish priest in Paramount's ''Going My Way,'' the New York critics have just given him their award for the best film acting of the year.
Today Barry Fitzgerald is in greater demand by the studios than any character has ever been in the history of the film city. One conservative estimate, by people who figure such things out, has it that if the 56-year-old Irish actor accepted all of the parts that have been offered to him in the past four months he would be working in front of the cameras, night and day, for the next two years. Film producers calculate that Fitzgerald's name in the cast of one of their products now means increased returns at the box office. That fact explains an increase in his ''per picture'' pay to $75,000 more than three times his pre-''Going My Way'' rate.
To all of which Barry Fitzgerald says: ''I am now just another Hollywood celebrity and that's downright boring.'' He doesn't understand why being a successful actor should mean that he can, per se, set the general public an example by smoking so and so's cigarettes or wearing this or that brand of underwear.
Gone are the days, he will regretfully tell you, when he could walk down the street unrecognized and just watch people go by. Now the people watch Barry Fitzgerald go by. In Hollywood he is too easily recognized, pointed out, stared at and besieged by that curious American phenomenon, the autograph seeker.
He finds it all rather bewildering. He resents the disruption of his previously inconspicuous private life. He can't even browse in Los Angeles book shops or join in a discussion with strangers at some out-of-the-way barroom or drug store without being tagged as Father Fitzgibbon. His old clothes and cloth cap, which once kept him inconspicuous, now make him a marked man.
And along with fame have come obligations - obligations which are particularly distressing to Mr. Fitzgerald, who cheerfully admits to being a ''very lazy man.'' Fame has brought sacks full of fan mail to be answered. It has resulted in invitations to parties and social events - for he is now being recognized, even by some of the town's so-called ''greats.''
Fitzgerald Meets Fame — and He Frowns
By FRED STANLEY
HOLLYWOOD — In Hollywood these days everyone, it seems, is excited about Barry Fitzgerald - except Barry Fitzgerald. On the basis of his performance as the whimsical, petulant old parish priest in Paramount's ''Going My Way,'' the New York critics have just given him their award for the best film acting of the year.
Today Barry Fitzgerald is in greater demand by the studios than any character has ever been in the history of the film city. One conservative estimate, by people who figure such things out, has it that if the 56-year-old Irish actor accepted all of the parts that have been offered to him in the past four months he would be working in front of the cameras, night and day, for the next two years. Film producers calculate that Fitzgerald's name in the cast of one of their products now means increased returns at the box office. That fact explains an increase in his ''per picture'' pay to $75,000 more than three times his pre-''Going My Way'' rate.
To all of which Barry Fitzgerald says: ''I am now just another Hollywood celebrity and that's downright boring.'' He doesn't understand why being a successful actor should mean that he can, per se, set the general public an example by smoking so and so's cigarettes or wearing this or that brand of underwear.
Gone are the days, he will regretfully tell you, when he could walk down the street unrecognized and just watch people go by. Now the people watch Barry Fitzgerald go by. In Hollywood he is too easily recognized, pointed out, stared at and besieged by that curious American phenomenon, the autograph seeker.
He finds it all rather bewildering. He resents the disruption of his previously inconspicuous private life. He can't even browse in Los Angeles book shops or join in a discussion with strangers at some out-of-the-way barroom or drug store without being tagged as Father Fitzgibbon. His old clothes and cloth cap, which once kept him inconspicuous, now make him a marked man.
And along with fame have come obligations - obligations which are particularly distressing to Mr. Fitzgerald, who cheerfully admits to being a ''very lazy man.'' Fame has brought sacks full of fan mail to be answered. It has resulted in invitations to parties and social events - for he is now being recognized, even by some of the town's so-called ''greats.''
Saturday, August 11, 2012
BING AND 1945
Going to the grocery store was quite the shopping affair, from the popcorn vendor on the outside to the fresh produce displays and penny candy counters on the inside. Remember some of the penny candy such as BB Bat suckers, Kit Kats, Tootsie Roll Pops, and a variety of bubble gum? Cracker Barrel Restaurant has many of the old time candies. Remember when the popcorn machine was outside of the Indiana Theater, which many people enjoyed the popcorn.
Service station attendants cleaned windshields, checked fluids, and often provided treats for the children. Mailmen would deliver packages with a friendly greeting, and sometimes there would be a brief visit before delivery continued. I remember Mr. Jim Evans and Mr. Bob Stanley, who were two of these type mailmen.
Buying war bonds in 1945 was encouraged by many businesses to use for Christmas and Birthday gifts. They were $18.75, and at maturity they became $25 in 10 years. Over the course of the war, 85 million purchased bonds, totaling close to $185 billion dollars. Uncle Sam was posted several places on posters to encourage buying bonds.
Memories of childhood in 1945 were often shaped by what kids heard on the radio. Backyard playgrounds were expanded in Western Plains. Homemade baseball diamonds utilized stones and boards for bases. Tall trees were goal posts. Blankets were thrown over clothes lines to become tents. Young people would take cookies and milk into their tent for snacks.
Hopscotch was a popular game which we made on driveways and sidewalks. Girls loved to make bracelets and necklaces our of beads and buttons.
How many can remember your parents leading you in your nighttime prayers, and then they would read you a bedtime story. At mealtimes the father would say grace, and as the children grew older, they took their turn to return thanks.
Many fond memories of 1945 were enjoying each other in the activities of the youth. Some had picnics, and it was followed by a game of Croquet. Later it was ice cream time. Bowling, roller skating at a rink, and ping pong, caught the fancy of the youth and the young at heart.
Radio stars and the hits of 1945 were Ellery Queen, Amos and Andy, Bing Crosby, Edgar Bergen and Charlie McCarthy, Fibber McGee and Molly, Green Hornet, Lone Ranger, Sherlock Holmes, Buster Brown, and Tommy Dorsey.
Top Hits of 1945 were “Till the End of Time” by Perry Como, “Sentimental Journey” by Les Brown, “I Can’t Begin to tell You” by Bing Crosby, “Chickery Chick” by Sammy Kaye, and “White Christmas” by Bing Crosby, which is still heard at Christmas time.
The minimum wage was 40 cents per hour. Bread was nine cents a loaf, bacon $0.41 a pound, eggs 58 cents a dozen, milk 3l cents a gallon, movie tickets 35 cents each, cars $1,020 each, and homes around $4,600.
Those were the days...
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