Dear Diary,

Hedda Hopper was talking about the Victory Caravan today. She said she heard Bob Hope and Jerry Colonna rehearsing a telephone conversation in which Bob is supposed to be Mussolini trying to get Hitler on the phone. (He never does.) Then she went into detail about Bob’s plans for the next two or three weeks. She said he would take his entire radio show with him to eight major cities  on the route, act as master of ceremonies for all performances of the Caravan, take his radio show to army camps while on the tour, and come back immediately to start work in a Sam Goldwyn picture. (She named other things, too, but I can’t remember them all.) She called it the most ambitious program ever undertaken by a Hollywood personality.

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Dear Diary,

There was a picture of Bob Hope in the paper this morning in connection with the army-navy relief show. He and Jerry Colonna were holding suitcases, ready to leave.  But Bob had on the funniest looking clothes to be starting on a trip. It was an Arabian costume. I imagine the picture was taken on the set of “The Road to Morocco.” Bob looks rather nice in a turban. He should wear them more often. Then no one could tell him from a California woman—slacks and a turban. Wouldn’t he look cute chasing himself up Hollywood Boulevard, or down Vine Street? But the, doesn’t he always look cute? Well yes!

Dear Diary,

Madeleine Carroll was Bill Stern’s guest tonight, and naturally she talked about Bob Hope. She said that she didn’t excell in any sports, but that she had a friend (Bob Hope by name) who claimed he played a wonderful game of golf. Then she added, “But you know Bob.”

Speaking of Mady, I saw her and Bob in the previews of “My Favorite Blond” today. I wanted them to show a picture of Percy the Penguin, but they just showed a guy they called Bob Hope. I never heard of him.

Jean and I stayed up till after midnight tonight talking and playing dominoes, but mostly talking. Naturally Jean beat me at dominoes but we tied in the talking part of it.

Dear Diary,

I had the most wonderful surprise today. I read in the paper that Bob Hope is going to be the master of ceremonies at the army-navy relief show. Actually it’s not such a great surprise, because I have mentioned before that I wanted him to be either m.c. or the last one on the program. As master of ceremonies, he’s not only last, but first, middle, and always.

I got a new movie magazine today that contained a review of “My Favorite Blond.” This reviewer (who claimed “Louisiana Purchase” was Victor Moore’s picture) said that in this picture Bob Hope fives the best performance of his career and one of the best of the month, above all other performances, good and bad.

Dear Diary,

Although Bing Crosby had only one guest tonight, the program was better than it has been in some time. Bing and Mary Martin were talking about saving materials for the government, and Mary said, “Why, Bing, do you realize that just sixty-two little tooth-paste tubes will hod together all the radio connections for a big bomber?” Bing replied, “Yeah, and it doesn’t take much more that that to hold Bob Hope together.”

Victor Borge was better tonight, because he stuck mostly to his music. He was funny all right, but in a musical sort of way. I think he must realize that he’s not nearly as good a comedian as he is a pianist, although when he combines the two, the results are pleasant enough.

Dear Diary,

I finally started back to school today, and believe me, it’s about time.

I’ve simply got to say a little more about Bob Hope’s show last night. He was talking about a picnic the whole gang attended last week, and he said, “I bent over in a crap game to throw the dice, but a bull from an adjoining pasture horned in. He made his point before I made mine.” Then, still talking about crap games, he said, “The sailors here sound like they sighed when Frances Langford walked in, but they have to breathe like that—their pants are too tight. They even have to unlace the back of their pants when they bend down go shoot craps.” Bob also mentioned his forthcoming tour over the country. He’s taking the whole cast of his show with him.

Dear Diary,

Bob Hope was so good tonight that I could never begin to say just how good, but I will try. Vera Vague was his guest, and he was broadcasting from the naval replacement center at San Pedro. Bob and Vera were talking about men (which lets Bob out) and Vera said, “I’d just love to get married and settle down in a cozy little home.” Bob said, “Why, Miss Vague, I’m touched. I’m deeply touched,” She said, “Oh, Mr. Hope, would you liek to be that man?” Bob replied, “I said I was touched, not tetched!” Naturally Bob said something about “My Favorite Blond.” Then he added quickly, “And I must remember to send Fred Allen his ninety-nine cents.” Colonna called Bob on the phone tonight to say, “I’ve just eloped with a showgirl and she’s turning in her uniform.” (A loud bang and some kissing) “A bubble dancer!” Everyone laughed so much after the bang that Bob said, “That last wasn’t needed.”

Dear Diary,

I saw in the paper today that tickets for the army-navy relief show were priced at $1.50, $3.00, $5.00, $10.00, and $25.00. I think I’ll buy a $5.00 ticket. Boy, am I desperate to see Bob Hope. But it’s worth it. My only wish is that Bob is either the m.c. or the last one on the program. If he’s near the the first I’ll have forgotten everything he says by the time the show’s over. It’s going to last about three hours, and everybody in Hollywood who is anybody will be here. There’s a possibility that Bing will be here, but he may not be able to make it. I hope he can, because I hardly saw him the last time he was here (and I think you know when I mean.) I didn’t even get to see him and Bob together but once for about five minutes.

Dear Diary,

I’m afraid to believe my eyes. I saw something in the morning paper that is too good to be true. It just doesn’t happen to me, so it must not be true. To think—twice in three months. Maybe I’d better explain myself. There was an incomplete list in the paper of the stars to appear in Dallas May 11 for the Army-Navy Relief show. Bob Hope is coming!

Tonight Fred Allen told about all the trouble he had trying to see Bob Hope and Madeleine Carroll in “My Favorite Blond.” He couldn’t get a seat, even though the man outside said there were plenty, and Fred kept demanding his 99¢ back. He devoted about twenty minutes telling about his struggles, and said it always happened at big-name pictures like that.

Dear Diary,

I saw in the paper today that Sam Goldwyn has signed Dinah Shore to appear in the picture he’s going to make which will star Bob Hope and Dorothy Lamour. Boy, Bob certainly gets surrounded by singers in his pictures. There has been Shirley Ross, Martha Raye, Bing Crosby, Dorothy Lamour, Dona Drake, and now Dinah Shore. It’s strange that novody let’s Bob sind an entire song all by himself (or is it so strange?) But I solemnly swear that before I leave the realm of worldly things, I shall hear him sing a song all the way through—with no other vocal accompaniment. Just little Bobby!

Dear Diary,

I finally found out what became of Jerry Lester. He’s in New York appearing at the Strand Theater, which would make it appear that he left the Crosby show of his own accord. If that is true, I offer my humble apologies to Bing Crosby. (But he still shouldn’t have let Jerry leave the show.) From all the talk of Jerry Lester that I’ve been flinging around the last few weeks one might think I was slightly That Way about him, but please don’t get me wrong. I’ll never like anyone like I like Bob Hope, but I do think Jerry is a swell comedian, and I miss hearing him on Bing’s program every Thursday night. I hope he gets on another program pretty soon.

Dear Diary,

I hate to say this, but Bing Crosby’s program is definitely not as good as it is been. It is slipping. As a matter of fact, Mr. Crosby himself ain’t what he used to be. Bing hardly did anything really funny tonight, and he didn’t sing any good songs. To top off all that, he didn’t say about word about next weeks guests. Can you imagine? All that added on to the Jerry Lester affair has me awfully disappointed in Bing. I’ll be glad to see Bing and Bob Hope in “The Road to Morocco.” Maybe that picture will restore my faith in Bing, (as well as provide another picture to see a dozen times on account of Bob.) I surely hope it’s only temporary, ’cause he’s a swell guy.

Dear Diary,

I got the strangest picture of Bob Hope today. He has one arm firmly around the neck of Man Mountain Dean (and they ain’t necking) and the other arm around Andy Devine (and neither are they.) Imagine! Bob Hope getting the best of those two big lugs in a wrestling match. Undoubtedly it is a posed picture, because no matter how tough Bob (says he) is, he can’t lick Man Mountain Dean. Andy Devine maybe, but not that guy with the beard. He’s a professional wrestler, and although Bob was a professional boxer once, he wasn’t, and isn’t, that good. Gee, Dean ‘ud moider da bum! (Who am I calling a bum?)

Dear Diary,

Bob Hope’s broadcast was from the air corps replacement center at Santa Ana tonight, and was Bob flying high—Rita Hayworth was his guest. Bob’s show was really good tonight, gut as strange as it may seem, he didn’t pull any especially funny gags like he does most weeks. It was just a steady stream of pretty good jokes, but nothing special. Ben Gage, a private in the army, was a special guest, and did he get kidded about the size of his feet. He had to delay entering the army three weeks so they could find some shoes big enough for him. Bob was pretty cute once tonight trying to say identifying. I never heard him so mixed up. He tried several times, then said, “I never could say ‘identifying'” and that time he said it with no effort.

Dear Diary,

Gosh, I’m still covered with lovely red spots, and it looks like I will be covered with them for some time yet. Doggone! If I can’t go to school by next Monday at least, then something is going to happen, and it’s not going to be at all nice. I’ll bet I would curse so badly that the picture of Bob Hope on my desk would put his hands over his ears. That is, if he’s as nice a boy as he sometimes pretends. But if he’s more like what he seemed the two times I saw him in person, he won’t mind a bit. I hope he won’t mind, because for some reason, I think I’d like him better that way.

Dear Diary,

For the past three months the Silver Theater has said that Bob Hope would be their guest. Today the said, “Next week our guest will be your favorite comedian—Jack Benny.” It’s a lie! It’s a lie! How are they supposed to know who my favorite comedian is? At any rate, it is not Jack Benny, and they shouldn’t have given me such a shock. Imagine making me think they were going to say Bob Hope would be their guest, and then saying Jack Benny. It’s a gyp! You want to know something? It’s this. I don’t think everyone likes Bob Hope as much as I do. I can’t imagine why, but I just don’t think they do.

Dear Diary,

There was a big program on the air tonight for the China Relief fund. Naturally Bob Hope was on the program, or I wouldn’t be mentioning it here. He wasn’t as funny as he has been, but, gosh, he can’t be expected to be that funny all the time—nobody could be. Bob talked a little about spring gardening, and of course he pulled some pretty good gags. He said, “I was trimming my hedge with some big clippers when my neighbor stuck her head through to say ‘Peek-a-boo!’ She only got as far as “Peek-‘!” He added, “Everything is so patriotic nowadays. I saw one lightning bug stick has caboose in a bottle of ink in case of a blackout.”

Dear Diary,

I got four or five new magazines today, but since I’m not supposed to read, I guess I’ll have to wait to cut out the pictures of Bob Hope, and there had better be some pictures of Bob Hope, or I’m gonna be mad. Now you may be saying, “If you aren’t supposed to read, how are you writing in your diary?” Well, the answer is that I didn’t write in there today. I mean I did, but it’s really later. (April 14, I betcha) I’ll just write in here really when I have heard Bob Hope on the radio, and by that time, it will be okay for me to use my eyes. At any rate, I hope so.

Dear Diary,

Can you imagine? Bing Crosby didn’t say one single word about Bob Hope on his program tonight. I simply can’t believe that Crosby could put on even one show without saying something about Bob Hope. It doesn’t seem like him. Oh well. Bing hasn’t seemed like himself in a lot of ways recently, and the first sign was letting Jerry Lester go. That, I’ll never understand. But there I go again. I said I wasn’t going to bring up that subject again. Anyway, maybe Jer will show up on another program or maybe even his own program, and then I can stop beefing for once and for all.

Dear Diary,

I may not have known what I had Monday, but believe me I know now. I have got the measles. But good. The doctor came out yesterday and said he thought I’d break out with the measles some time soon, and, brother, he knew what he was talking about. Bob Hope should see me know. I mean, I’m so attractive! So presentable! The trouble is that I don’t feel good! I’ve got fever and I’ve got bumps and I’ve got an inferiority complex. I took one look in the mirror this evening, and I still swear that it was not me (or I, if you prefer.) I look like something that shouldn’t happen to an Indian.

Dear Diary,

Bob Hope broke some kind of a record tonight for good programs. He was absolutely tops. He was broadcasting from an air corps center at Ontario, California, and Brenda Marshall was his guest. He got an idea to woo Brenda two ways—as Charles Boyer and Jimmie Cagney. He said, “Say, Brenda, I’ve got an idea! You have? Yeh.” I almost fell out of bed laughing. It wasn’t awfully funny, but the way he said it! Wow! As Charles Boyer he walked up and rang Brenda’s doorbell, and it started playing “Deep in the Heart of Texas.” Bob said, “Now isn’t that patriotic? Everywhere you go—the national anthem!” After the mixture of cheering and booing had died down, Bob said, “Well, at least there are some Texans in the crowd!”

Dear Diary,

Well, I was in bed all day again today, and I’m afraid I’m in for it again tomorrow, since I still have a little fever (between 98.5˚ and 99.5˚ most of the day.)

I saw in the paper today that Ann Gillis is again being condisered for Bob Hope’s summer show. Gosh the time has ceratinly rolled around. Just a few more weeks (well, not much more than that) until Bob goes on his summer vacation. I’m not sure, but I think his vacation starts June 16. That’s only about ten weeks more.

Jimmie Fidler gave “My Favorite Blond” three bells today. He said the supporting cast was excellent, but the lion’s share of acting honors went to Bob Hope and Madeleine Carroll. (Natcherly!)

Dear Diary,

A fine Easter this turned out to be! I woke up this morning with a temperature of 102˚ and it stayed with me until about 8:30; at which time it dropped to 100˚, which is still rather warm. Mother wouldn’t let me go to church or go with Jean, Betty Lou, and Helen to play miniature golf or anything. We were afraid for a while early in the day that I had the mumps, but we have changed our minds. Since I couldn’t get up, I just stayed in bed and stared at the picture of Bob Hope on my desk. Lovely pasttime, that! Jean and the gang came over after Sunday School to see how I was feeling. After they finished their game, Jean came over and spent the afternoon with me. She won bot games again today.

Dear Diary,

Would Bob Hope be proud of me if he knew what I had done today. I bought two Pepsodent Fifty-tuft toothbrushes, a large can of Pepsodent Tooth Powder, and a large bottle of Pepsodent Antiseptic. That should bring the Pepsodent Company just about enough money to pay Bob’s salary for the next four or five months.

I spent most of the day today down town shopping. I bought a new pair of shoes, in addition to all the Pepsodent products. I had intended to go play miniature golf with Betty Lou in order to prepare for the game the whole gang will play tomorrow, but I couldn’t find time between going to town and getting my hair fixed, so I guess I’ll have to let Jean beat again tomorrow.

Dear Diary,

I guess I was so mad last night while listening to Bing Crosby that I didn’t hear the mention of my true love. It seems that Walter Huston was showing Bing and Mary Martin a picture of Madeleine Corroll’s home, as a sample of fine architecture, and Mary remarked, “It’s a lovely house, but look at that strange fire-plug. It has such a long snout.” Bing said, “That’s no fire-plug; That’s Bob Hope.”

My! my! how clever our Mr. Crosby is becoming. But he wasn’t clever enough to keep Jerry Lester. That, I can’t get over!

I got several new pictures of Bob today. I guess I’ll have to take time off some day and count all those pictures of mine. There must be a million of ’em.

Dear Diary,

If I weren’t such a good girl, I’d curse like a sailor right now. I don’t know who caused it or why, but Jerry Lester’s contract has been dropped, and he is no longer on the Kraft Music Hall. I noticed last week that Bing Crosby didn’t mention Jerry for this week’s program, but I didn’t think much of it at the time. Then I saw in the paper this morning that Mary Martin’s and Victor Borge’s contracts had been renewed, but there was no mention of Jerry. And the final blow was that Jerry wasn’t on the show tonight. Dam—uh, darn it anyhow. At any rate, I will soon be seeing Jer in “Sleepy Time Gal,” a picture also boasting Skinnay Ennis, a certain orcherstra leader on a certain Bob Hope radio program.

Dear Diary,

Well, today was April Fool’s Day, but I didn’t have anything pulled on me, thank goodness. According to Bob Hope, last night he had quite a few jokes pulled on him. He said, “Someone sent me a note telling me to meet them under the big tree on Main Street at 8:00 tonight, and they signed it Hedy Lamarr. Of course I knew it was only an April Fool’s gag, so I didn’t wait very long. And besides, the mailman came by and took me home.

“They tried to fool me over at the Paramount too, but I knew what they were doing. They said they weren’t going to pick up my option, and I laughed so hard I fell off my knees.”

I got four or five new pictures of Bob Hope, today, and several articles about him too.

Dear Diary,

Bob Hope’s show was so good tonight (March 31) I believe I’ll continue the discussion here. Bob was talking about the premiere of “My Favorite Blonde” which was held last night. He said, “When I came on the screen, a man in back of me started applauding, so I turned around and said, ‘Thanks for the applause. I’m Bob Hope.’ He replied, ‘I’m not applauding. I have a portable and I’m listening to “Deep in the Heart of Texas.”‘” Still speaking of the premier, Bob said, “Kissing Madeleine Carroll and making love scenes with her is just another day’s work to me.” Andy Devine said, “Gosh, Bob, what do you want out of life?” Bob replied, “Just another day’s work!” What a man! But then, can you blame him? I can’t.

Dear Diary,

Bob Hope was better tonight than he has been in weeks. He was broadcasting from an army camp, but he was not allowed to say which one. He said, “The get us to this unidentified camp in an unidentified location, an unidentified driver drove us here by an unidentified route, in an unidentified jeep, and now I’m sore in an unidentified place.” He added, “Everyone in the jeep was blindfolded except the driver, and driving on Sunset Blvd. shattered his nerves so badly that he put on a blindfold too.” Andy Devine was Bob’s guest instead of Joel McCrea. Bob was visiting Andy’s ranch on the sketch tonight and he sang a few bars of “Deep in the Heart of Texas” with squirts of milk in place of claps. That’s the first time that song has ever been sung on Bob’s program, as much as he talks about it.

Dear Diary,

I guess “My Favorite Blonde” is a better picture than I expected, because today Walter Winchell gave it, and Bob Hope, a New Yorchid in his column.

Hedda Hopper said today that Buddy De Sylva is planning a picture whose cast will include every start at Paramount, such as Bing Crosby, Bob Hope, Fred Astaire, Rochester, etc. That’s something I’ve been wishing someone would do for a long time. I’ll bet there would be little or no trouble getting people inside theaters, since their favorite will probably be in the picture. Hedda Hopper also said that on the set of “The Road to Morocco” the other day there was a call for a chimpanzee and a parrot that does not curse. Frankly I didn’t know there was any such thing.

Dear Diary,

Jean and Betty Lou and I went to Wee St Andrews today and played miniature golf. Gee, more fun! I felt like Bob Hope, in a small way. Evidently Jean must have felt like Bing Crosby, because she won two games out of two. Poor Betty Lou came in on the tail end of both games, which, of course, left me second both times. We’re going again next week if we ossibly can. I’m determined to beat Jean.

After we finished playing, we went to Lake Cliff and walked around the entire lake. But you might know that when we found a nice shady spot with a good view of the lake, we sat down and looked for a while. We all felt as if we had walked around Texas by the time we got home.

Dear Diary,

Mother and I went to the flower show today. It was just as beautiful this year as it was last year, despite anything people may say to the contrary. It’s just because last year they were seeing it for the first time, and they expected it to be even prettier this year, which would have been almost impossible. Anyway, I wasn’t disappointed. Rubinoff was at the opening last Saturday, so what they really need for the closing tomorrow is some unknown personality. Such as Bob Hope, maybe. Boy, I’d be out there quicker than he could bat one of those pretty brown eyes of his.

“Deep in the Heart of Texas” was number one on the Hit Parade for the third time tonight. I hope it manages to break some sort of record.

Dear Diary,

Betty Lou and I went to the Telenews theater tonight. There wasn’t anything especially interesting except a March of Time and a Popular Science. In the Popular Science film they showed how cadets are tested at Randolph Field, Texas, to see whether or not they are physically fit for flying. It was so interesting that if I were a boy, I’d rush down there in double-quick time and get myself a little of that training.

While we were down town I got the new issue of Movie-Radio Guide, but there was nothing in it about their poll. Bob Hope has just got to be Star of Stars again this year. (And Ill scream bloody murder if R.S. is first in anything!)

Dear Diary,

Bing Crosby was good tonight—as usual—but something strange happened. At least it was strange for a Crosby program. He didn’t even mention Bob Hope.

Speaking of Bob Hope, as I do at every opportunity, I saw a picture in the school paper this morning of one of Sunset’s lettered baseball players. The guy looked so darned much like Bob he could easily pass as his brother. I quickly looked to see who it was. And of all people, it was John Ligon, a boy I’ve known all my life, although I haven’t seen him for two or three years. Donald runs around with John and his younger brother a lot, but his brother is the only one who ever shows up around here, so I didn’t even recognize John.

Dear Diary,

Some time ago Walter Winchell put a small bit in his column about how Bob Hope, in “The Ghost Breakers,” cheered up the heartbroken people of Coventry, England, just after it was bombed. Today he put the same story in a long article in the new Photoplay. There was an accompanying picture of Bob from a scene in “The Ghost Breakers.” He quoted a government official as saying that the government doesn’t want Bob Hope and people like him to serve behind a gun—they are needed behind cameras and microphones.

Gee, Mother and Daddy have been gone over two days now. I wish they’d come home. I’m getting lonesome with noone here but Grams and I and Mother and Daddy way down in the Rio Grande Valley. Harlingen to be specific.

Dear Diary,

Bob Hope wasn’t up to his usual high standards tonight. I can’t imagine what was wrong, but he just didn’t seem to have as much zing as usual. His guest tonight was Patsy Kelly. He was broadcasting from Camp San Louis Obispo. He said, “On the way up I decided to save my tires by taking them off for a while and using victrola records. We hit one pedestrian, and that’s the first time anyone was ever hit deep in the heart of Texas by Rose O’Day and had Jim bring him pretty flowers.” Naturally Bob was kidded a lot (as usual) about his tummy. He said, “If you are referring to that bulge under my belt, that’s not a pot tummy. My bubble gum backfired.” Joel McCrea will be Bob’s guest next week.

Dear Diary,

Now I know. I’ve suspected it for some time, but now I know. Bob Hope is superstitious. I first suspected it when he refused to change dressing rooms at Paramount. Now this morning I saw in the paper that he and Dorothy Lamour refused to have any peacocks in “The Road to Morocco” because of ancient superstition that peacocks bring bad luck. So, there won’t be any peacocks in the picture. Bob and Dottie were to be surrounded by peacocks in a big love scene, and slaves were supposed to fan them with peacock feathers. But when Bob and Dottie heard about it, they set up suck an awful howl that all signs of peacocks were removed from the big scene.

Dear Diary,

I went to the show with Betty Lou and Helen Riefkohl. We went to the Majestic first and them came to Oak Cliff and went to the Midway. What a contrast! I had more fun at the Midway, because I saw Bob Hope in the previews of “Nothing But the Truth.” But other than Bob, I spent most of the day being entertained by Reginald Gardiner. Not in person of course (darn it), but in a more roundabout way. He was in “Captain of the Clouds,” the show at the Majestic. Then we went to the Midway and saw him in “A Yank in the R.A.F. (which mad a little more than twice for me, and the picture wasn’t so awfully good either.) Then I came home and listened to Reggie as a guest on Fred Allen’s show. Gosh, I’m beginning to sound like a Reggie Gardiner fan instead of my true calling—a Bob Hope fan.

Dear Diary,

I saw Bob Hope in “Louisiana Purchase” for the ninth time today. I imagine this will be the last timre I’ll see it, because I must prepare myself for such opuses as “My Favorite Blonde” and “The Road to Morocco.”

Our Sunday School class went to the Madcaps Theater tonight. Boy, who said that vaudeville was dead? Whoever it was ( and it was a lot of people) should go out there some night. Gee, that reminds me. I think I’ll write a letter to Mr. Hope and inform him of the Madcaps. He might need a job someday. (Heaven forbid!) It was a cure play though, even though it was rather corny. Toby Gunn was supposed to be funny, but I for one was rather disgusted with him.

Dear Diary,

Today the Movie-Radio Guide published the ballets for its annual radio poll. Bob Hope won in several divisions last year, and if I have anything to say about it, he’s going to do the same thing this year. I’m going vote for him in the following divisions: Star of Stars, Best Comedian, Best Variety program, and My Favorite Program. I would vote for him in all the other divisions, but it might look rather strange calling Bob the best female singer of popular songs, or best radio actress. I would also vote for him as best male singer of popular songs, but I figured I should give Bing Crosby a little break. After all, he’s not such an awfully bad singer. (Am I kidding?)

Dear Diary,

Bing Crosby was arfully good tonight, as was Mary Martin, Victor Borge, Ken Carpenter, John Trotter, and all the guests. I imagine Jerry Lester was good too, but I sneezed during his allotted time and missed him. That makes me so mad! Darn it, Jerry’s good, so why doesn’t he get more time on that program? He used to have five or ten minutes.

I got an article out of the morning paper about some of the nonsense going on on the set of “The Road to Morocco.” Bing and Bob Hope are cutting up as they usually do when they get together. I imagine this will be Bob’s best picture since “Road to Zanzibar.”

I finally got that picture of Bing Crosby taken just after he ripped his pants in Phoenix. A spectator is kneeling down mending Bing’s pants with a spectators badge. Bob is standing by, grinning from ear to ear.

Dear Diary,

Jean White was looking through a new Companion today and came across the cutest darn picture of Bob Hope I’ve seen in a long time. He was sitting on the floor playing with his three dogs. He has a big rubber ball in one hand and is teasing the dogs with it. I haven’t bought the magazine yet, but I certainly going to, because I have simply got to have that picture. It is just slightly tinted with just enough color to make it look natural. I got one picture of him once that a great deal too much color in it. Evidently he realized it too because he wrote across it “Am I too colorful? Bob Hope.” It’s a wonder he didn’t ban the darn thing, but then he doesn’t do things like that or he wouldn’t have won that ward for his cooperation.

Dear Diary,

For the first time in weeks Bob Hope did not broadcast from an army camp, but he’ll be at Camp San Louis Obispo next week.

Since spring is almost here, Bob said, “Because of the ban on radio weather reports I won’t say what the spring weather is like in California, but if certain unidentified stuff from an unidentified direction doesn’t stop falling on certain unidentified pedestrians, they will remain unidentified. Whew! I did it!”

Bob’s playlette tonight concerned the theft of one of his tires. He saw an ad in the paper that said, “We will sell Bob Hope’s tire back to him if he will call at the Black Spider Inn on Swamp Water Boulevard between Blood-curdling Avenue and A-a-a-gh Street.”  Some joint! Bob’s guest was Laird Cregar.

Dear Diary,

I got a few pictures today of Bob Hope presenting academy awards. In the same magazine there was an article about Bob’s and Bing Crosby’s new picture, “The Road to Morocco.” It said that although Bing winds up with Dorothy Lamour again, Bob gets Dona Drake, who is also nice. If you ask me, she’s a great deal nicer than Dorothy. If I were a man, I had certainly rather wind up with Dona Dottie. Dona can sing better, she’s cuter, and (in pictures at least) she has a nicer personality. I really don’t know whether to believe the article or not, because they said that he got Una Merkel in “The Road to Zanzibar,” but he just barely hinted in the picture that he might get to like her. So-o-o-o-?

Dear Diary,

I saw in the paper today that Bob Hope had been ordered by his doctor to take things easier. I coulda’ told him. (Just listen to me!) I don’t believe any amount of doctors could stop him once he gets started visiting army camps, playing in benefit shows, travelling all over the country in Red Cross golf tours, etc. But even at that, I agree with the doctor completely.

We got back home about 5:30 this afternoon. We brought back practically every jar of canned food Daddy Pat could spare, and that was plenty, since he’s there all alone and doesn’t need much for himself (he says.) Daddy paid him ten dollars for it, and he said he would live on that for a month. (Genius)

Dear Diary,

Mother and Daddy and I went down to the farm today. I didn’t especially want to go, and neither did Mother, but Daddy said we should, so we did. And did we have fun? No! Sister and D.L. were there when we got there. D.L. let H.B. use the car to go get his girl friend. He took longer than he ever had when he had borrowed D.L.’s car, and we began to worry about him. About 12:15 a man drove up to the door and got D.L., Daddy, and Daddy Pat and took them to see the wreck (and I do mean wreck) of D.L.’s car. Nobody was seriously injured. It wasn’t H.B.’s fault, but he was so scared he disappeared soon after the accident and didn’t come home until early in the morning. Such a life! And I didn’t even get to say good-night to Bob Hope, as he perched on my desk.

Dear Diary,

Well, I finally gave up today. I have asked practically everybody I know whether or not they can remember that gag Bob Hope pulled about the soldier from Texas in a crap game. I know for sure the Texan was getting the best end of the deal, but I simply can’t remember what happened. I think the telephone rang about the time he was pulling it, and it distracted my attention for a moment. I didn’t start listening hard again until Bob said the word “Texas,” and then it was too late to get the whole thing. Oh well. I don’t guess it makes that much difference anyway. Why should I ruin my good health by trying to think of a gag that was probably corny anyway?

Dear Diary,

Because of the open house at Sunset tonight I didn’t hear all of Bing Crosby’s program. The part I missed would have to be the first part, because during that time there are such attractions a Jerry Lester, Victor Borge, Pat O’Brien, and the funniest stuff Bing does all evening. All I heard was the dull, uninteresting last half, which usually presents the duller, more serious quests. I wouldn’t have minded so much except that in the first part of the program is when Bing talks about my friend (and his) Bob Hope, if he mentions him at all. Besides, we didn’t have a very good time anyway. (Jean, Mrs. White, Mother and I all went together.)

Dear Diary,

I got several pictures of Bob Hope from some new magazines today. They were all pretty good pictures, but something in connection with one of them gave me something to think about. It was a review of “Louisiana Purchase,” and the reviewer said that it was Victor Moore’s show. She did admit, however, that Bob Hope was no one to be easily eclipsed, and that as usual he was a panic. Of course, I’ve heard one or two other columnists say the same thing about Moore, but I never exspected it from this one, because she has always seemed so one hundred per-cent Hope. Before Bob was so popular with others (he had already made a hit with me) this reviewer always told how Bob stole the show from Bing Crosby or whoever might have been in the picture. But now that Bob’s on top she says someone steals the show from him. Could it be that she’s for the underdog? Hm-m, could be!

Dear Diary,

Bob Hope really did “dispose of” Betty Hutton, but, as I feared, Skinnay Ennis sang in her place. Right after Bob’s first five-minute solo he introduced the announcer, but Skinnay rushed in to say that he wasn’t there yet. He told Bob to be funny and tell a few gags until Larry arrived. Bob said, “Gosh, let me think. Oh, yes, a funny thing happened to me on the way to the San Diego Marine Base today, and I wish I could remember what it was. O-o-o, my writers told me there’d be times like this.” Bob and Skinnay gave the commercial by themselves (almost), but you might know Larry would phone in and help them (darn it). Bob pulled a couple of gags about Texas. One of them was, “Skinnay Ennis is the only singer who sings ‘Deep in the Heart of Texas’ from deep in the heart of an oxygen tent.” The other was much cuter, but I’ll be darned if I can remember it.

Dear Diary,

Jimmie Fidler said something today that I’ve been waiting months to hear. He said that Betty Hutton, of the Bob Hope show, would soon leave that program. He said that no reason had been given, but I don’t need any reason. The fact that she’s leaving is enough for me. It all started when Betty was Bob’s guest a couple of times. I didn’t like her then, and I liked her even less when she joined the show as a “regular.” Anyhow, she’s not going to be on any more. I only hope Bob fills in the time she took singing (?) by either more gags or his own singing. He’ll probably let Skinnay Ennis gasp out a song with his last few breaths from the days ration. As if poor Skinnay had all that extra breath to space. S.P.C.A., I’m calling you!

Dear Diary,

I don’t think I ever heard anything as crazy as those two nuts, Bob Hope and Bing Crosby, were tonight. Hedy Lamarr couldn’t decide which of the two she wanted, so while she was trying to decide, Bob and Bing had to sleep together. Naturally they started arguing. Bing (alias Henry) said, “You’d probably do anything to get her. Why you even look like the kind of a guy who’d joke about Bing Crosby’s horses.” Bob (alias Bill) replied, “Oh, no, I have more respect for the dead than that.” The two of them finally decided that she’d never make up her mind alone, so they decided to force her to make a decision. Henry said, “Dear we’ve decided that you’ve just been playing with us like an octapuss plays with—Uh, Bill, what does an octapuss play with?” Bill replied, “Another octapuss.”

P.S. She never did decide.

Dear Diary,

Gee, is Texas getting a lot of publicity lately. Deep in the Heart of Texas is second on the Hit Parade now. I’ve been keeping account and I’ve heard it on the radio ten times this week by just listening to the programs I always hear. I’ll bet if Bob Hope sang it on his program it would be first pretty soon (maybe.) Oh yes, speaking of Bob Hope, I’m just wondering what’s going to happen on that poor Gulf Screen Guild Theater tomorrow when Bob, Bing Crosby, and Hedy Lamarr take over in the play, “Too Many Husbands.” That’s going to be hot stuff. I’m just trying to figure out which one of the two will turn out to be “excess” baggage.

Dear Diary,

I had a holiday today, so I had a lot of fun (?) by getting my hair washed. That old March wind was really cutting up all day, so just to be foolish, I left the beauty shop and went right down town. Boy, if my hair wasn’t a mess! It was worth it though, because I saw Bob Hope in the newsreel. It was made at the Academy Award banquet and it showed Bob presenting the special cigar-smoking Oscar to Jack Benny. The two of them looked so chummy with their arms around each other. I expected one of them to suddenly kiss the other or some silly thing almost as ridiculous, but they didn’t. They just shook hands like old friends instead of like two long lost buddies. I wonder if they really felt as chummy as they looked. If not, they’re both good actors.

Dear Diary,

One of Bing Crosby’s guests tonight was Jack Teagarden. He told Bing he opened at a new theater about the same time Bing Bob Hope were in Texas. He said he knew because he had flown over Dallas a couple of days before he opened in California and had seen the two of them playing down below. Bing asked, “But how did you know that was Sickle-snoot and me playing down there?” Jack said, “Because two of the foursome were on the fairway and the other two were on the Road to Zanzibar.” Jack continued, “You and Hope must have made a lot of money for the Red Cross there in Dallas. There were at least 8,000 people in that crowd.” Bing said, “Aw, how could you count all those people from way up there?” Jack:”Just like I count hep-cats on the dance floor. I count all the arms and legs I can see swinging around and divide by four.”

Dear Diary,

I got a picture of Bob Hope today from “My Favorite Blonde.” That means it will be out in about two months or less. Less, I hope. After all, it’s been over two months since I last saw him in a picture. “Louisiana Purchase” will be at the Texas next Sunday, but I can’t go see that, because I’ll be at a concert early in the day and I’ll be listening to him after the concert. I guess I’ll just have to wait until it gets to the Rosewin before I see it for the ninth (and probably tenth) time. I guess I can stand the wait though.

In the same magazine from which I got that picture there was as picture of Marlene Dietrich giving Bob a light. Bob looks like he’s trying to impress her. He’s putting on that old glamour-boy act. It’s just opposite from the first picture. In that one he looks like an excited kid.

Dear Diary,

Bob Hope has acquired a habit I’ve been wishing he get for months. He talks quite a bit about Texas. It may be a passing fancy, but if so, it’s been four weeks in passing. Bob was at Camp Cook tonight, and he was talking about how hard it was to shave in a crowded room (they told him as they sewed his nose back on). He said, “I saw one tough fellow  here from Texas. He didn’t bother with razors. He just pulled out a pivot tooth and scraped.” Bob told about taking a tank ride while he was there, too. He said, “The tank was shaking and bouncing so much that they finally told me to do something to take it off my mind. I tried singing ‘Deep in the Heart of Texas,’ but it didn’t do any good, because I soon got a callouse somewhere near Dallas.”

Babe Ruth finally made it. He was Bob’s guest tonight.

Dear Diary,

Gee, what weather. It snowed all morning yesterday, and it had practically disappeared in the middle of the day. Not only that, but today the sun was shining so that I had to wear only a light jacket. Oh boy, it’s wonderful. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have Texas weather to write about in my poor little diary.

There was a long article in the paper this morning about the Academy Award dinner. The writer rather contradicted himself. He first said that Gary Cooper and Jimmy Stewart stole the comedy spot-light from everyone there, including Bob Hope. Then, not two paragraphs later, he went into detail about the gag one Mr. Robert Hope used to get the biggest laught of the evening.

Dear Diary,

I was calmly sitting by my radio today, listening to the closing announcements on the Gulf Screen Guild Theater. Joan Bennett and Robert Young were the guests, and they were talking to Roger Pryor. Joan said, “Roger, is is true what they’re saying about you? You’ve heard about it haven’t you, Bob?” Bob replied, “Yes, I have, but I didn’t want to mention anything about it until I made sure.” Finally Roger said, “Gee whiz, what on earth are you two talking about?” Joan said, “Why, Roger, you know what we mean. And if it’s true, I want to be the first to congratulate you. We have heard that next week your guests will be Bing Crosby, Bob Hope, and Hedy Lamarr.” That was a complete surprise to me. I knew he was supposed to be on the Silver Theater in a few weeks, but I didn’t know about this.

* Wednesday February 11

Dear Diary,

I have more room here so I can go into detail a little more about seeing Bob Hope. I got there a little early and watched Bob get in a few practice shots. I really didn’t expect him to be half as good as he was, but he fooled me. I also saw Bing Crosby and Johnny Weismuller practicing. I didn’t see Bing any after that, but I saw Johnny once more. I was walking along behind Bob (close enough to touch him) when we passed the foursome Weismuller was in. Bob yelled over and asked him how “Tarzan” was doing, and ended by attempting a Tarzan yell. Johnny made a “V for victory” sign with his fingers and actually let out part of the famous yell.

Although I have seen Bob before, I have never seen him so close. He actually is handsomer off the screen that I think he is on, and I heard a lot of other people saying so too. Every time Bob made a shot he’s do something to let out his emotions. On one particularly hard hold, everyone else in his foursome was just barely making it in par, and up popped Bob who made it in just about half of par. He started jumping up and down and flapping his arms as if they were wings. On another hole he shot a beautiful ball and everyone just knew it would land right on the green, but it fooled us and went right over it. He slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand and moaned, “Oh, no! No! They can’t do this to us. Somebody call a cop!”

Bob was walking along with a bunch of small boys once, when Louise Suggs, another member of Bob’s foursome, ran into a couple of the boys. She said, “Pardon me, boys.” And without an instant’s hesitation Bob sang, “Pardon me, boys. It that the Chatanooga Choo-Choo? Well, yes!”

Bob wore a sweater that is rather difficult to describe. It wasn’t red and it wasn’t wine colored. It just struck a medium—and not a very happy one either. However, I must admit it made it easy for me to find him when he mingled with the crowd. He wore dark gray pants, and his shoes—well, they just about the the description Crosby gave them in “The Road To Zanzibar”—twelve double a’s. At least that’s the ipression I got at first glance. I gradually got used to them.

When that gang of boys was following Bob, one of them made a remark that Bob pretended not to like one bit. He said, “Listen, sonny, I’m too big to beat you up, and my kid’s too little, but I’ll bet if he saw you he’d spit in your eye!”

Every once in a while Bob’s ball was between the cup and some other ball. When that happened, he would drop a coin where the ball was and move the ball out of the way. He always had a hard time finding the coin, but one time in particular he spent about four minutes just turning around and looking for the place where he dropped the coin. Finally someone in the gallery yelled, “What’s the matter, Bob, don’t you know where your ball’s supposed to be?” Bob answered, “To heck with the ball! Where’s my dime?” Once he accidentaly dropped several coins and someone asked him if he was rich. He said, “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just bragging.”

By the end of the eighteenth hole I was no longer walking—my feet were just moving from memory. Bob looked at a couple of boys and said, “You want to earn an easy 50¢? Just carry me the rest of the way in.”

However, he wasn’t too tired to kid the spectators a little after the game, over the loudspeaking system. He say, “Boy, on those first nine holes I was really going to town, but on the last nine I was pretty stupid. I took one swing at my ball and missed. I took another swing and missed. There were two little ants sitting on the ground, and one of them said to the other, ‘For heaven’s sake, let’s get up on the guy’s ball before he murders us.'” In speaking of Mady Carroll he said, “Mady and I are just like that. (Holding up three fingers.) That’s Will Hayes in the middle.”

The crowd wanted him to sing “Thanks for the Memory” but all we could get out him were gags and the first line.

Dear Diary,

I bought my bicycle license today. When I left home it was rather warm so I wore a light jacket over my twin sweaters and was completely comfortable. Before I got home it had turned so cold that I couldn’t feel my ears, and my hands and feet were so cold I could hardly move them to get off of my bicycle. That, friends, is a sample of Texas weather. (Speaking of Texas, “Deep In the Heart of Texas” jumped from ninth last week to third on the Hit Parade this week.)

Well this is the last day of February. Boy, what a month it has been. As far as Bob Hope is concerned it’s been about the most eventful month of my life. It has been different in another way too. I’ve had the worst head cold I can remember. Counting today, I’ve had it twenty-four days, and it’s still going strong.

Dear Diary,

I got the best golfing picture of Bob Hope today that I ever got. He has on white pants and a dark sweater, and the most determined look on his face I ever saw on anyone. Standing beside Bob, watching the flight of the ball, is Bill Stern, who also hain’t no slouch when it comes to looks. At the time, Bill was getting the low-down on some of Hollywood’s better sportsmen. He said that Bob astonished him by hitting the ball so far the caddies couldn’t even find it.

At the Academy Award banquet last night, Joan Fontaine won an Oscar for her work in “Suspicion” and Gary Cooper received one for “Sergeant York.” Bob Hope was m.c., as usual. He didn’t get any special award, but he gave an Oscar in skirts, with a cigar in its moth, to Jack Benny for being the year’s outstanding cigar-smoking sweater girl. (Charlie’s Aunt.)

Dear Diary,

Bing Crosby was back on his program tonight, apparently none the worse for his recent gold tour (and two week vacation). It seems that Bing had a little trouble with his pants in Phoenix—he ripped ’em. Ken Carpenter told him he should take along two pair of pants on golf tours like that, and Jerry Lester piped up with, “Yeah, you should try that, Bing. Aftwr all if you have two par of pants on a golf trip, you shouldn’t mind making a hole in one.” Mur-der! Ken said a picture of the little incident of the back of Bing’s lap appears in the new issue of Time.

I saw in the paper today that Bing Crosby, Bob Hope and Babe Ruth are “goin’ golfin'” for sweet charity in California soon. Lucky California! Lucky charity! (What the heck am I talking about?)

Dear Diary,

There was a little bit about Bob Hope in the new Readers Digest that came out today, but I had already read it because it formerly appeared in the American Magazine. It was about the method Bob used is getting his first big studio audience—he roped them in from the Charlie McCarthy–Edgar Bergen show. I’ll bet if there were any roping necessary now, it would be just exactly the other way around. Imagine Bob Hope having to steal another comedian’s audience! It just shows what a great change a few years can bring about. Bob never needed ropes to get an audience after that first time, but sometimes they use ropes to keep audiences (or mobs?) away from him. (And I do mean me, at the golf tournament.)

Dear Diary,

Bob Hope took the gang to Camp Roberts for the broadcast tonight. I don’t know what caused it, but he was as good tonight as is humanly possible. He was really operating. He said, “You know those beautiful Greyhound busses that run up here? Well, I came up on a shuffling Pekingese.” He mentioned that the barracks at Camp Roberts was a thousand cots separated by individual crap games. He said, “I got in a crap game with a few of the boys, and I’m not saying I was winning, but a tourist poked his head in the door and said, ‘Is this Camp Roberts?’ One of the soldiers replied, ‘No, but one more shot and it will be’.” Patsy Kelly asked Bob what became of Yehudi and Bob replied, “Oh he’s got a new job now. You know that new song ‘Deep in the Heart of Texas’? Well, Yehudi is the little man who claps four times.” Bob was singing the theme when the show was cut off.

Dear Diary,

I saw the most unusual thing about Bob Hope’s new picture in the paper today. He and Madeleine Carroll are the stars, but it appears that as a surprise the producers put in a cute little sequence involving one Bing Crosby. His name will not appear on any billing, but he does play a bit part. In one scene Bob was walking along a dark street and stopped to ask a fellow for a match. The “fellow” turned out to be Bing Crosby. Bob walked on a few steps, stopped suddenly, turned around, and murmured, “It can’t be!”

That picture (“My Favorite Blond”) sounds like it’s going to be a rip-snorter. Bob Hope is a vaudeville entertainer and Mady Carroll is suspected of being a spy. Bob gets mixed up with her and before you know it, Bob is suspected too.

Dear Diary,

Walter Winchell actually wrote something about my favorite person in his column today. He said that after the Nazi raid on Coventry a bit of laughter saved them from complete despair. They had buried their dead, they had gone without necessary food and shelter, and life seemed at an end. A few days later someone dug up a Hollywood movie and showed it in Coventry and nearby towns day and night for a week—twenty four hours a day. Winchell said, “It was so funny it made them laugh for ninety minutes—or at least took their minds from their personal misery…The star was Bob Hope…The picture was ‘Caught in the Draft.'” He also said that America doesn’t want Hope and people like him behind a bayonet—that they do more good in front of a camera.

Dear Diary,

I went to the Telenews theatre today and saw some scenes from “A Benefit ‘Tee'” starring Bob Hope, Bing Crosby, and Johnny Weismuller. Naturally they only showed one shot each of Bing and Johnny, and devoted several minutes to scenes of Bob Hope in the midst of a bunch of beautiful girls in shorts. I didn’t see that being taken, because they did it before the thing started and before I got out there, so I was very glad to get a chance to see some of the things I missed. They also showed Bob teeing off on one hole. I remembered  that, because Bob had acted especially cute on that shot. But despite that, he was cutest with those girls. They kept messing up his hair by running their hands through it, so he reached over and pretended to mess up one girl’s hair. But he knew better than to ruin her coiffure.

Dear Diary,

I saw in the paper this morning that although the PGA had offered to pay the expenses of all the golfers who participated in the Brook Hollow event, not one turned in an expense account. It was reported that when offered expenses, Bing Crosby, Bob Hope, and Johnny Weismuller laughed out loud. Mother (the cute thing) said they were probably laughing about all the things they had done that they couldn’t put on an expense acount. She may have been right, but you must admin it wasn’t the nicest thing she could have said about such gallantry(?).

Daddy and Mr. Post went to Washington D.C. on a sleeper plane tonight. Mother and I went to Love Field with them to bring the car home, and I saw the inside of the new air terminal for the first time. It’s certainly a beautiful building.

Dear Diary,

Bing Crosby was still absent from the Kraft Music Hall, and Mickey Rooney attempted to take his place again. But even thought Crosby wasn’t there, Crosby was one of the guests. Maybe I’d better explain myself. Bing Crosby, alias Gravelthroat, was not there, but Bob Crosby, alias Hepcat, was one of the guests. If they hadn’t announced that it was Bob nobody would have known it wasn’t Bing, because they sho ’nuff sound alike. You know, I often wonder if any of Bob Hope’s brothers have a voice like Bob’s. After all, Bing and Bob Crosby sound alike, Don and Jim Ameche sound alike, Clifton and William Fadiman sound alike, so why shouldn’t Bob and Fred or Jim or Jack or Syd or Ivor or George Hope sound alike? I also wonder if Bing’s other brothers, Everett, Ted, and Larry sound like Bing (Harry) and Bob (George).

Dear Diary,

Linda Darnell visited Sunset today. She came in my Latin class during the last period. I sit on the front row, so I got a very close view. I actually believe she’s got everything they say she has, because even at that close range she was a dream, and I never saw such a complexion. Wow! This was the second time I have seen her, because I saw her on the Majestic stage in connection with her first picture, “Hotel for Women.”

Hedda Hopper said today that in “The Road to Morocco” Bob Hope again dresses as a woman—his own aunt. She said that she, for one, was tired of seeing comedians dressed as women. Jack Benny did it in “Charley’s Aunt,” Bob did it “Nothing But the Truth,” William Powell did it in “Love Crazy,” Joe E. Brown will do it in his forthcoming picture, “Shut My Big Mouth,” and not Bob does it again! I can’t say that I blame Hedda one bit.

Dear Diary,

Bob Hope’s show was funnier tonight than it has been in weeks. He was really in the groove. He didn’t say anything about his trip to Texas, but he did mention Texas. The gang was at Camp Haan in Riverside, California. Betty Hutton said she had been dancing with a soldier from Texas. Bob said, “From Texas, huh?” (Note witty dialogue.) The minute Texas was mentioned a cheer went up from those soldiers that could be heard for miles. Bob said, “Gosh! That many?” After the cheering had subsided Betty said, “Boy, that soldier from Texas was really tough—he gave me some charms for my bracelet.” Bob asked, “Why does that make him tough? What kinds of charms were they?” Betty: “His second lieutenant’s teeth!”

Bob mentioned that he had to register for the draft yesterday. He said, “They asked me in such a nice way this time that I just couldn’t refuse.”

Apparently Babe Ruth wasn’t available tonight.

Dear Diary,

Hedda Hopper mentioned a little about Bob Hope and Bing Crosby on her program today. She merely said that Bob Hope and Bing Crosby made over $60,000 for the Red Cross in their three appearances in Texas, and that at times the crowds were so thick they had to play golf on top of them. That’s pretty nearly true too. I hope she gained her information from Bob first hand, because that would mean that he got back to Hollywood in time to get in one or two rehearsals for his radio program tomorrow night. At the game I heard hi say that he would be on and that his guest would be Babe Ruth (if available), but I thought he might have changed his mind and stayed to see the finals f the Texas Opens in San Antonio.

Dear Diary,

I spent the day in bed again today. I was mad too, because I wanted to go to the Victory Sing at Fair Park Auditorium, and I was supposed to go for music credit, but Mother said, “No!” She’s right though, because I have such a cold that I couldn’t have sung, and if I had gone by cold would probably have gotten worse in this terribly wet weather. So I suppose it’s all for the best, even though I’ll have to do some fancy explaining to my music teacher.

I saw in the paper today that Bob Hope got discouraged with his golf score (81) and joined the spectators yesterday. Frankly, I’ll bet he wasn’t discouraged—I’ll bet he was eliminated. After all though, 81 isn’t a bad score even if it did discourage Bob.

Dear Diary,

I stayed in bed all day today trying to get rid of this darn cold of mine. I pasted a few pictures of Bob Hope in my scrap book and did some of my home-work but other than that, all I’ve done today is be lazy.

I saw in the morning paper that Bob Hope shot an 81 at San Antonio yesterday. You had better watch out, Bob. That’s ten over par, and you were only eight over par in Houston Thursday. (However, it is quite an improvement over the score he made in Dallas Wednesday. He was sixteen over par then. It seems that Bob is always shooting in the low eighties, and Bing Crosby, as a rule, shoots in the middle seventies. Could it be that Bing’s a better golfer than Bob? Could be.

Dear Diary,

Jean and I went to the Palace tonight and saw “The Great Dictator.” It was without a doubt the craziest picture I ever saw. It had a moral, was full of good actors, and was entertaining, but I still say it was crazy.

I saw in the paper today that Bob Hope shot an 80 in Houston yesterday, which is only eight above par on that course. He shot 86 here, which was 16 over bar, but I’ll bet he put on a better show for the gallery here. I guess he decided to get serious and play golf in Houston instead of playing with the spectators. However, if I know him as well as I think I do, he did a lot of cutting up in Houston too. He just has a look on his face that tells people that he’s having a good time, no matter what he’s doing. At least, that’s my opinion. I could be wrong too. I certainly have been a lot of times.

Dear Diary,

Bing Crosby wasn’t on his show tonight because he and Bob Hope played golf in Houston and they play in San Antonio tomorrow. Speaking of golf, I simply can not get that match I saw yesterday completely out of my mind. In fact, I don’t try very hard to forget it—I don’t even try at all. I just wish I could think of a few more things Bob said and did yesterday. I did think of one or two things. Once Bob’s ball landed behind a tree. When he was told where it was, he said, “Are you kiddin’?” He shaded his eyes and looked over towards the ball, and when he saw the crowd standing around the ball, he said, “Hey, don’t just stand there. Kick the ball. Kick the ball!” A funny-looking photographer was taking Bob’s picture. He was making all kinds of funny faces and taking a long time. Bob took one look at the fellow’s face and said, “Hurry up, Orson, you’re scaring me.”

Dear Diary,

I should be writing this in red pencil, because today has certainly been a red-letter day in my life. I watched Bob Hope play golf for four solid hours. I got his autograph, and even talked to him a little. As a rule I would be thrilled to even touch him, but I touched him so many times today that I stopped counting them after about  the twentieth time. He played a beautiful game of golf, but the scores weren’t announced, so I probably won’t know what he made until I read it in the paper tomorrow. I saw Bing Crosby once or twice today; but I was so busy watching Bob that I didn’t pay much attention to Bing. Bob kept cracking jokes every minute. It’s a wonder his voice didn’t crack with his gags. It didn’t matter if he made a wonderful shot or a lousy shot. He always had something cute to say or do along with it. I didn’t get to see his famous ring because he had a glove on his lift hand.

(see Special Data)

Dear Diary,

Bob Hope took his program to Camp Callen tonight. Boy, if he ever gets drafted, he should feel right at home. He’s visited practically every camp in California, and he goes to another one next week.

Billie Burke was his guest again tonight. Frankly I be perfectly content if he took Betty Hutton and Frances Langford off the show and gave their time to Billie. Billie and Silly, or Burke and Jerk go well together. Of course, she’s always insulting him or making fun of something about him, but then who isn’t?

I didn’t expect Bob to say anything about coming to Dallas tomorrow, but right at the end of the program, Ben Gage wished him luck in the golf tour he and Bing Crosby are playing in Dallas, Houston and San Antonio. (I wish he’d leave out those other cities and spend three days in Dallas.)

Dear Diary,

I received an autographed picture of Bob Hope today that would warm the heart of an “Oscar.” It’s the same pose that Betty Lou got of him when she asked him to send both of us a picture. We both thought she got the best picture, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. That is, until I saw an offer in a magazine. There was a blank to fill out concerning what the reader thought of the magazine. The first 500 to send in the blank after filling it out received an autographed picture of their favorite star. Apparently I was one of those 500 because I sure got a humdinger of a picture of Bob. It’s a genuine autygiraff too, because the ink is blue and you can tell where it dried. Of course someone else might have written it, but I prefer not to think of that.

Dear Diary,

Well, again that’s that. I saw in the paper this morning that Bob Hope is ill and probably will not be able to make it to the golf tournament in Dallas Wednesday. There is still some hope, but will there be Hope? I guess it just isn’t in the books for me to see that guy again. I suppose I that since I saw him once I’m not supposed to see him again.

Speaking of being ill, I didn’t feel so hot today myself. I have a slight touch of flu, and even a slight touch of that stuff is nothing to sneeze at. Besides the flu I had a head-ache. That helped too. Oh well, I’ll soon forget I ever had the flu, so why clutter up the page with stuff like this? (If you must know, it’s because I don’t know of anything else to write.)

Dear Diary,

Sister and D.L. came in today from East Texas. It’s the first time I’ve seen them for several months.

Up until tonight I wasn’t sure what time Bob Hope would start socking that little white pill next Wednesday. I found out that it starts at two o’clock. You can bet your sweet life I’ll be out at Brook Hollow by twelve, at the latest.

The Metropolitan Opera Company paid tribute to Dallas as being one the country’s outstanding cities in music culture and appreciation. The tribute, which lasted about ten minutes, was one of the intermission features one the weekly Metropolitan radio programs. Dallas was one of only sixteen cities ever to receive such an honor from the Metropolitan Opera Company.

Dear Diary,

Mother told me today that she would drive me out to the golf tournament next Wednesday after all, because she bought a ticket herself. It seems that she likes Bob Hope more than she likes to admit, so she bought a ticket today to go see him.

Mother and Daddy went to a party tonight at the Baker Hotel. I stayed home and listened to just about every Friday night radio program that I ever heard of, much less listened to. While I listened to the radio, I cut out my newest pictures of Bob Hope. I got about eight new ones today. I also got an article in a new movie magazine called “The Bob Hope You Don’t Know,” but I didn’t find anything in the whole article that I hadn’t heard before, at one time or other. Anyway, it was a nice article.

Dear Diary,

Bing Crosby didn’t say anything about his forthcoming trip to Texas on his show tonight. In fact, he didn’t even make the direct statement that he wouldn’t be on his show next week. He just said that Mickey Rooney would be around next week to cut capers with the old music hall, which in Bing’s language is the same as saying that Rooney will take over next week in the absence of old “Gravelthroat.”

For the second consecutive time Jerry Lester had less than thirty or fourty words to say during the whole program. How an they expect him to grow up to be like Bob Hope someday if they never let him say anything? (Maybe they’re afraid he will—as if he could.)

Victor Borge was so hot tonight. Bing should have given his spot to Jerry, who is better than Vic anyhow.

Dear Diary,

I got two pictures of Bob Hope today, and he had his arm around a girl in both of them. One of the girl’s was Betty Hutton and the other was Paulette Goddard. Boy, does that guy get around. Every day I find pictures of him with a different gal. I wonder if he ever gets tired of posing with beautiful women. (Am I kidding?)

Bob Hope and Bing Crosby finally made up their very changeable minds and decided to come to Dallas February 11 after all. If they could always come out with decisions like that, I wouldn’t care if they took six or seven months to make up their minds. I have my ticket already, because I saw in the paper yesterday that they were definitely coming. I wasted no time in getting my ticket yesterday afternoon.

Dear Diary,

Bob Hope wasn’t quite as good tonight as he usually is, but even at that he was slightly better than terrific. He didn’t have a guest, but he announced that next week Billie Burke would be his guest.

Bob was broadcasting from March Field tonight, so naturally he talked abut the army a lot. He said, “When important guests arrive here they are given a twenty-one gun salute. When I got off the plane, two fellows on K.P. duty came out of the kitchen and popped a paper bag. As we were landing a plane was writing ‘Hello, Bob Hope’ in the sky, but an antiaircraft gun kept shooting the ‘o’ off ‘Hello’.”

Bob received an award from the editors of Movie-Radio Guide tonight. They had chosen him as the best comedian of 1941.

Dear Diary,

Tonight Orson Welles gave his last radio performance in the U.S. for some time. He and the Mercury Theatre are going to South America to make a picture. I’m going to kinda miss old Genius. I guess that means Bob Hope won’t be his guest any time soon, as he had planned previously.

It appears that after all the dickering, the Motion Picture Academy Award banquet will be held after all. But where it has been very formal it will be informal, and the price has been lowered from twenty-five dollars to ten dollars. If I lived just a wee bit nearer Hollywood, I wouldn’t miss that dinner, but as it is I’m afraid it would be quite a walk just to see Bob Hope get heart-burn.

Dear Diary,

Bob Hope must be pretty busy lately, because he should have been on the Silver Theater today and wasn’t. He won’t be on for two or three weeks yet. Oh well, as long as he makes it sooner or later I don’t especially care when it is.

I guess we showed those (censored) Japs today. The U.S. forces struck at some Japanese bases and islands and inflicted losses eight times as great as those received by the U.S. at Pearl Harbor. Pearl Harbor, consider yourself remembered!

Jean and Betty Lou and Helen and I got together after Sunday School this morning and had more darn fun. We went to Jean’s house for a little while and played (?) the piano and read to each other. As usual we made our Sunday trip to the drugstore too.

Dear Diary,

This has been a slightly profitable month as far as Bob Hope and radio are concerned. I heard him four times on his own show and once on the March of Dimes program. I haven’t seen him in any picture shows this month, but I think I will in February, when “Louisiana Purchase” comes to the Texas. (I hope.)

This month has also been profitable as far as pictures of Bob are concerned. At the first of the month I had five hundred and twenty pictures of him. Now I have something over six hundred, which is better progress than I have ever before made in just one month. I think at the present rate at least, that I will more than reach my goal of one thousand pictures of Bob before the year 1942 is completely complete.

Dear Diary,

I did one of the silliest things today that I believe I have ever done. I went into a very crowded dime store, walked over to the frame counter, and started looking through all the picture. They were arranged in rows, and I went through every row and picked out all the pictures I could find of Bob Hope. I found about sixteen, in all sizes, so I put two pictures of Bob at the first of every row. That made Bob the only one who showed completely, without some other picture covering about three fourths or all of his face. Dring all the time I did this, I was very nonchalantly observing the frames, as if in contemplation of buying one. I would pick up a picture of Bob and set it down in front as if the frame wasn’t just what I wanted. To ease my conscience, I finally bought a little 25¢ frame with Bob’s picture in it.

Dear Diary,

I cut out and pasted so many pictures of Bob Hope today that I think I’ll have the reflection in my eyes for days to come. I counted them too, but I was listening to the radio at the same time, and I didn’t do a very accurate job. As far as I can figure, though, I have something over six hundred pictures.

The radio program I heard was the radio celebration of the President’s sixtieth anniversary. A few minutes of the show originated from Dallas, but all that was done here was a short (overly eloquent) speech and one orchestral number. Other parts of the program came from New York, Washington, Hollywood, Detroit, and Oklahoma City. All those cities, along with Dallas, contributed the entire show. Got once, Bob Hope was not on a benefit show. Imagine!

Dear Diary,

Boy, if Bob Hope ever got publicity he got it from Bing Crosby tonight. Mady Carroll was one of Bing’s guests, and where there’s Carroll there’s talk of Hope. Bing said until Hope started in on her, people had thought of Mady as a beautiful, intelligent actress. But when “Chisel chin” finished talking about her peop;le thought of her as the kind of dame who walked through French doors without opening them. Hmm—could be.

Sam Sneade was another guest. He was there mainly because he and Bing are partners in a golf match in San Diego. Bing asked Sam how he thought they’d do in the match. Sam said, “I don’t know. You see I have a pretty big handicap—Crosby.” Bing said, “You should worry about a little think like that. Ben Hogan has Hope.”

Can you imagine—B.H. (Bob Hope) is a golf partner of B.H. (Ben Hogan).

Dear Diary,

I got a new picture of Bob Hope today taken at a benefit for baskets for the needy. In the picture with him are Rudy Vallee and one other guy whose name I refrain from mentioning, but whose initials are R.S. I think you know who I mean. He may be okay, but I just can not get excited about him. In fact, I am so unexcited about him that I have never listened to one of his programs. I never will listen to one of them until he gets on the air at a different time. Now he’s on right after Bob Hope—the one time in the week in which I absolutely refuse to listen to any radio program, good or bad. If he ever changes, I may reconsider the matter some, but from what I’ve heard when he guested on other shows, I’m not sure I’d listen to him even then.

Dear Diary,

Robert Young was Bob Hope’s guest tonight. The two of them must have had a hard time remembering each other’s first names—they’ so very different, don’t you know.

Bob pulled some more gags about prices in hotels, only this time the hotel in question was in San Diego. Bob said, “For eight dollars they gave you a private room; for four dollars you shared a room with someone; for two dollars you could sleep in the lobby; and for fifty cents they let you sleep in the elevator. All night long I kept dreaming I was a yo-yo.”

Bob and Jerry naturally started one of their arguments about how to pronounce a word. Colonna said, “Hope, you’re a jass-ack.” Hope said, “You mean I’m a jack-ass.” Colonna replied, “For once I’m not going to argue with you.”

Dear Diary,

Yesterday after the concert I left as soon as Sydney Foster finished playing. I found out later that he played three encores. It made so mad I burned for two solid hours. It would have to happen the first time I ever left a concert before the house lights came on. The encores were three of my favorite compositions, but I guess I’ll live through it.

Ever once in a while I think of a few more jokes that Bob Hope pulled Saturday. These just popped into my head: “At Lake Arrowhead last week I stopped at the finest hotel there. I warmed my hands and then went on to the joint where was staying. The rates were really high. For six dollars they gave you a room with five other guys, and for 50¢ more they put in two beds. I tried to pay for a private room a week in advance, but the didn’t have change for a new tire.”

Dear Diary,

I went to the symphony concert today. Sydney Foster was the guest soloist. He played Tschaikowsky’s Piano Concrto in B-flat Minor—the whole thing, and played the way it was written (for a change)

At the end of the Silver Theater today they announced that Bob Hope would be the guest next week. I was at the concert at the time and didn’t hear it, but I think they said it, because last week when Bing Crosby was the guest they announced that two weeks from that day Bob Hope would be the guest. And, although I would not swear to it, I think I will hear Bob Hope twice next week, just as I did last week. Why doesn’t he do that more often?

Dear Diary,

Bob Hope was on the March of Dimes tonight. (One of dozens) He was really cutting up. He got mixed up so much it was almost pitiful. Once he was trying to day, “I wet my lips to lick an envelope.” All he could say was, “I wet my licks to lip an envelope.” He tried three times, but he never could do it, He almost begged the audience to believe he had something to say. He said, “See, it’s written right here. Please believe me it is.”

In talking about his new picture with Mady Carroll Bob said, “In one love scene Mady was running her fingers lovingly through my beautiful curly brown locks—yeah, curly. She smiled tenderly and whispered a word in my ear—Dandruff.'”

Believe it or not, as much as I talk about Bob the rest of the show was good too.

Dear Diary,

I read Bob Hope’s book “They Got Me Covered” again today, and it was twice as good the second time as it was the first. I don’t thing I ever laughed as much as I did reading that thing over the second time. I had forgotten a whole lot of it, and reading it again kind of brought back pleasant memories of the near past.

In the paper today I read the names of a few of the people who are going to be on the March of Dimes on the air tomorrow night. Naturally Bob Hope is included, plus Bing Crosby and three or four dozen other very notable notables. it gives me the funniest feeling to hear about a think like that—a lot of big people helping even more little people. I really gives me something to think about. (for a change)

Dear Diary,

Bing Crosby was as good tonight as he’s been in a long time. Victor Borge wasn’t quite as good as usual, but Jerry Lester had never been better. And I mean never. He was hitting on all cylinders. As a matter of fact, he reminded me of Bob Hope more tonight than he ever has before, and he always reminds me of him a little. I don’t think it’s intentional. He just seems to open his mouth and out it comes. One of his stooges  mis-pronounced his name tonight, and almost called him Mr. Lettuce. Right there was when he sounded most like Bob—telling the girl how to spell and pronounce his name.

When Bing was announcing next week’s guests, he said, “Next week we’ll be joined by—wait’ll Hope hears—Madeleine Carroll. (I’ll bet when Hope hears, he’ll also be on Bing’s show next week.)

Dear Diary,

On Hedda Hopper’s program today she said, “When Bob Hope was asked to donate some of his blood to help in C.B. de Mille’s drive for blood for the Red Cross, Bob replied, ‘I’ve given my life’s blood to Paramount, but, C.B., if there’s a drop lieft in me, you’re welcome to it.'”

Dorothy Lamour was Fred Allen’s guest tonight. He asked her if she didn’t get tired of working with animals. She said, “Yes, it does get rather tiresome. I’ve worked with lions, tigers, monkeys, snakes, apes, gorillas, Bing Crosby, Bob Hope—” Allen described Bing Crosby as a bundle for Britain that had lost its string. He said Bob’s face looked like a scythe covered with flesh. He said he saw Hope in technicolor, and he came out a dirty pastel Fred and Dorothy spent about ten minutes talking about nothing but Bob and Bing.