Thanks for the memories

Back when I was a kid in junior high school, if you’d asked me what I

wanted to be when I grew up, I probably would have answered, “a

comedian.”

I got a big kick out of telling jokes and making people laugh

(still do, for that matter) to the point where some of my buddies

called me Bob Hope. I didn’t mind. Hope -- whose illustrious career

came to a close this week two months into his 101st year -- was my

favorite comedian in an era that included the likes of Jack Benny,

Red Skelton, Sid Caesar and Jackie Gleason.

But as I grew older, I realized such an ambition was unrealistic,

since I would become extremely nervous and unsure of myself when

called on to speak in front of a group of people. Writing, however,

was a form of self-expression that presented no such challenges, so

the keyboard became my microphone.

I also realized that what Hope did that seemed so effortless

required more than a sense of humor. His style was honed in

vaudeville and perfected on the radio, and by the time television

came along, Hope was a perfect fit.

The “Road” movies with Bing Crosby, hosting the Oscars more times

than anyone else, the thousands of hours spent bringing a little

cheer to our armed forces overseas during the holiday season -- any

one of these would have marked him as legendary. But Hope did it all.

He needed 100 years to fit in all the dimensions of his talent.

Also, he once owned a share of the Cleveland Indians, and I grew

up in northwestern Pennsylvania a huge Indians fan, shifting my

allegiance to the Angels after moving west. It didn’t matter that he

was born in England. To me, Hope was a Cleveland guy.

Once, maybe 20 years ago, I interviewed Hope. Not in person, but

over the phone for an advance story for the Daily Pilot on his

forthcoming one-night stand at the Orange County Performing Arts

Center.

Talk about apprehensive -- what do you say to a living legend? Not

to worry. When Hope picked up the phone, it was like he’d known me

for years, and his warm, friendly demeanor instantly put me at ease.

But that, after all, was his style and the reason most Americans took

him to their hearts. He was one of us -- just far richer and more

famous.

“Audiences are my best friends,”’ he liked to say. “You never tire

of talking with your best friends.”

True enough. But those who could do it like Hope are few and far

between. Johnny Carson had that quality, as does Jay Leno. But this

sort of natural, easygoing affinity for the type of comedy that

reaches and moves an audience is the rarest of commodities.

I’m certain that newspapers across the country echoed one headline

Tuesday -- “Thanks for the Memories.” It was Hope’s theme song, taken

from his movie “The Big Broadcast of 1938,” and the tune that always

rang out as he walked on stage.

Thanks for my memories, Bob. A whole lifetime of them.

* TOM TITUS writes about and reviews local theater for the Daily

Pilot. His stories appear Fridays.