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It goes without saying that Bing Crosby was, without doubt, the most popular and influential media star of the first half of the 20th century. The undisputed best-selling artist until well into the rock era (with over half a billion records in circulation), the most popular radio star of all time, and the biggest box-office draw of the 1940s, Crosby dominated the entertainment world from the Depression until the mid-‘50s, and proved just as influential as he was popular. As Tony Bennett so aptly put it in a 1999 PBS interview:

‘Just imagine something five times stronger than the popularity of Elvis Presley and the Beatles put together. Bing Crosby dominated all of the airwaves. He was the only guy who had hour shows on radio stations, where other artists would just have one record played.’

As with all the jazz-oriented stars of the first half of the 20th century, his chart popularity would be affected by the advent of rock & roll in the mid-‘50s. What impressed me about Crosby was the near effortless way in which he sidestepped emerging trends to forge new musical avenues. Though 1948’s “Now Is the Hour” would prove to be his last number one hit, this lack of chart success merely channelled Bing’s efforts into more adult orientated album projects and successful Hollywood movies.

Though he’ll never be forgotten, if only for his 30 million selling single “White Christmas,” the Crosby legacy is more deserving of a wider appreciation amongst millennium boomers. Will it happen though?

Unlike the many vocal artists before him, Crosby grew up with radio, and his intimate bedside manner was a style perfectly suited to emphasize the strengths of a medium transmitted directly into the home. He was also helped by the emerging microphone technology: scientists had perfected the electrically amplified recording process scant months before Crosby debuted on record, and in contrast to earlier vocalists, who were forced to strain their voices into the upper register to make an impression on mechanically recorded tracks, Crosby’s warm, manly baritone crooned contentedly without a thought of excess.

Information about Crosby’s formative years in Spokane can be located at:

http://www.movingimagearchivenews.org/bing-at-home-in-spokane-washington/

For those prepared to listen, Crosby’s warm, mellifluous baritone is still as engaging and moving as ever, and yet in comparison to many of his contemporaries, he is today, greatly overlooked. Much of the fault for this public oversight must rest with the organizations that control the rights to his performances. While the estates of Sinatra and Presley have taken steps to make sure the catalogues of these iconic artists remain accessible, the only Crosby music that has been readily available in the three decades plus since the singer’s death, were Christmas albums and basic greatest-hits collections.

Since 2009, that situation has been gradually changing, with the singer’s music — particularly from the harder-to-hear later portion of his career — being made available more than ever before, in the compact-disc era. His posthumous 1977 album “Seasons,” recorded in London shortly before his death, was a welcome release, but the real meat lay in the vast seven-CD box from Mosaic Records, “The Bing Crosby CBS Radio Recordings (1954-56).”

The “CBS Radio” box is an extraordinary mother lode of previously unreleased Crosby: 160 songs that no one has heard unless they were listening to the singer’s daily 15-minute radio series of the mid-1950s. Although some of the tracks were issued with overdubbed orchestration, shortly after the singer’s death, we’re safely in the hands of audio-verite with this package. It’s an amazing amalgam of everything from ancient tunes Crosby remembered from his childhood – “They Didn’t Believe Me” – to a variety of contemporary hits that were then on the jukebox, even such unlikely items as mambos – “Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White” – and country songs – “I’m a Fool to Care”. The old groaner is accompanied by pianist Buddy Cole and his trio, and everything stays light and highly swinging.

Crosby’s fledgling film career faced two obstacles – premature balding and jug ears. His rather endearing frankness about both these visual impediments is apparent in the following interview with the “Saturday Evening Post” in April 1953:

http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/wp-content/uploads/satevepost/bing-crosby.pdf

Crosby’s modesty, his lack of vanity, were real. He insisted that his success was due to luck – “Call Me Lucky” he was wont to say. He knew his looks were nothing remarkable, and he never tried to glamourise himself: at Paramount, he refused to have his big ears pinned back and resented having to hide his receding hairline. Most remarkably, he insisted on the famous Crosby clause in his contracts, by which he refused to be billed alone above the picture title: minor actresses were elevated into co-stars. This was shrewdness as well as modesty, of course; if the picture failed, it wasn’t his fault alone.

When the author and broadcaster Barry Norman interviewed Crosby’s son Gary for his series “The Film Greats” in 1984, he attempted to clarify Bing’s reputation as a tyrannical father. The victim of a stern victorian upbringing himself, Crosby had rebelled in his late teens, eventually perceiving considerable wisdom in such parental control when his four sons were born.