Shoeshine boy who made the world laugh
Up there with superstars such as Frank Sinatra, Greta Garbo and Bing Crosby, for six decades Hope was an international institution.
He was not only the friend of presidents from Roosevelt to Reagan, but a hero to the millions of servicemen he entertained on battlefields going back to World War Two.
There were few major Hollywood, political or military figures with whom Hope had not shared a stage or a scene in his 50-plus films, hundreds of radio and television appearances, and thousands of stage performances.
He was even invited by US senators to stand for president, but responded with a typical one-liner: “The money’s not right, and anyway I don’t want to move into a smaller house.”
A measure of the affection, bordering on reverence, in which he was held was demonstrated in June, 1998, when a Republican politician gravely announced to Congress: “It is with great sadness I announce that Bob Hope has died...”
An immediate hush fell over Capitol Hill, followed by a string of solemn tributes. But it was all a mistake. At the time Hope was at home in Los Angeles, feeling chipper and tucking into breakfast. When he saw the newsflash, he laughed and said: “Well, I’m still here...”
The error arose when an obituary of Hope, written in advance, appeared on an internet website.
The irrepressible entertainer, born in Craighton Road, Eltham, south London, on May 29, 1903, had the deck pretty well stacked against him.
Christened Leslie Townes Hope, he was the fifth of seven sons. His father was a stonemason. His mother was a singer and pianist who added to the family income cleaning other people’s homes.
The Hopes emigrated to Cleveland, Ohio, in 1907 when “Les” was four. In 1912, he spent a night in the cells after being accused of stealing a tennis racquet from a neighbourhood sports shop. Two years later, Hope won a Cleveland talent contest with an impersonation of Charlie Chaplin in front of an audience of local firemen.
In 1921 he made his professional vaudeville debut, receiving a few dollars for a “black-face” routine in a show in which a performing seal was top of the bill. By this time he had adopted the stage name Bob, ditching his agents’ choice of ‘Hope, Les’.
But Hope had to struggle to reach the pinnacle of show business. On his way up, he toiled by turns as a dancer, newspaper reporter and amateur prizefighter.
By now he was developing the quickfire patter that was to secure his reputation and be his hallmark for decades to come.
Producing and financing the famous “Road” pictures, in which he teamed up with golf partner Bing Crosby, helped to make him the largest private land owner in California. Time magazine once estimated his wealth at $500 million.
He and his wife, former singer Dolores Reade, were thought to be one of Hollywood’s most enduring couples after more than 60 years together.
His public image was the boastful, naive smart aleck and would-be ladies’ man who cowers at the first sign of danger and never gets the girl.
But a biography in 1994 by Groucho Marx’s son Arthur shattered the illusion and lifted the lid on what Hollywood insiders had suspected for years. The Secret Life of Bob Hope suggested he was an insatiable womaniser who had a string of mistresses over many years some of whom met tragic ends. Hope made no secret of his fury at this biography.
Hope’s career escalated in some of Broadway’s most glittering shows, including Ziegfeld Follies (1935) and Cole Porter’s Red, Hot and Blue (1936). In 1938, in The Big Broadcast with WC Fields, Hope sang Thanks For The Memories. It became his theme song. He ventured into radio unwillingly, thinking the medium was a passing fad. But he was booked at New York’s Capitol Theatre, which advertised ticket sales with a Sunday morning radio broadcast.
It was the Capitol that first teamed him with Bing Crosby.
“I did jokes between acts, and Crosby crooned,” he recalled. “Pretty soon, we were working the crowd together. A guy saw us and went back to Hollywood and said, “Put these guys together, they’re funny”.
Hope and Crosby made seven Road pictures together for Paramount, starting with The Road to Singapore in 1940 and ending with The Road to Hong Kong in 1962. Hope was always more than willing to criss-cross the world to boost the morale of homesick servicemen. He laid the early foundations of his wealth in the 1940s after fighting Paramount to be allowed to back his own films. Hope and Crosby made an oil strike in Texas but Hope invested his proceeds in 10,000 acres of farm land in the San Fernando valley, now a Los Angeles suburb where property values have zoomed astronomically.
Though his parsimony was legendary, he gave millions of dollars away, building the Eisenhower Memorial Hospital in Palm Desert, California, as well as the biggest youth centre in the US.
The funny man won four Academy Awards, the Order of the British Empire, Congressional Gold Medal, French Legion of Honour and 50-odd honorary degrees.
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