Bing Crosby:
A Pocketful of Dreams
The Early Years: 1903-1940
by Gary Giddins
Reviewed by Phillip D. Atteberry
This material is copyrighted and was originally published in The Mississippi Rag (August 2001).
If we go by statistics, Bing Crosby was the most popular musical artist of the Twentieth Century. His accomplishments are staggering, even by contemporary standards. For example, he made more studio recordings than any other singer (around 1,300); he had more charted singles than anybody (396); he had more number one singles than anybody (38); and he recorded the most popular record ever ("White Christmas"). But he also dominated the film and radio industries. He was the only actor to rank as the number one box office attraction five consecutive times (1944-48); he was nominated for three Academy Awards, and he maintained a network radio show for twenty-three years.
But even those details don't capture Crosby's importance. His significance lies not in his dominance of the entertainment industry but in how he transformed and transcended it. Given all that, it is surprising that until now no serious biography of him as been attempted. Or maybe it's not so surprising. Understanding a person of Crosby's stature and complexity requires distance. It also requires getting beyond what has already been written. Crosby's autobiography Call Me Lucky (1953), though partially ghost written by Pete Martin, is so disarmingly Bing-like in its humor and chattiness that one feels after reading it there is nothing else to say. And then there is Gary Crosby's Going My Own Way (1983) with Ross Firestone, which paints dark images of domestic abuse
To further confuse matters, Bing Crosby's art is no longer fully appreciated because popular music has changed so dramatically since the mid-century. Popular music today is fragmented into a sea of narrowly defined styles. Fifty years ago, it was a melting pot of styles with a vast, heterogenous audience, which Crosby helped to fashion.
Given all this, we can see why Bing Crosby is such a difficult subject. Happily, Gary Giddins is an appropriate person to scale this biographical precipice because he is both a music critic (having written well-known biographies of Louis Armstrong and Charlie Parker) and a student of American popular culture.
Giddins' central point is this: As he aged, the real Bing Crosby approximated more and more closely the public Bing Crosby. This thesis, however, is not yet fully illustrated because as Giddins wrote, his work expanded from one volume to two. Volume one examines Crosby's career up to 1940. Volume two is scheduled for release in January.
Ordinarily, I favor single volume biographies because they force authors to make hard decisions about what is centrally important and what is peripheral. In this instance, however, I am glad Giddins and his publishers agreed upon a second volume because several issues related to Crosby have for too long gone unexplored. To cite a couple of quick examples, John Scott Trotter, Crosby's central arranger for years, has largely been ignored by writers and critics. Who was he? Where did he come from? What was his working relationship with Crosby? Giddins spends a long time answering those questions, and the answers are interesting. Giddins also examines the relationship between Crosby and Jack Kapp, founder of Decca Records. The Crosby-Kapp-Decca triangle and its effect on popular American music is more fully explored than it has been before. In a single volume, these investigations would not have been possible.
And yet the central focus of the book remains on Crosby himself and his recorded legacy. Giddins refuses to be unduly influenced by Bing's benign public image or by Gary's poisonous portrayal. Giddins' acknowledges with plentiful documentation that Crosby's early professional years were wild. Having grown up in a strict household and received a strict Jesuit education, Crosby let loose when he got away from home. Binge drinking and professional irresponsibility characterized most of his time with Paul Whiteman. Years later, Whiteman suggested the truth diplomatically when a reporter asked him if Crosby had been difficult. "Bing was never difficult to work with," Whiteman replied, "but often difficult to find."
And yet that wildness diminished significantly in the Thirties. Giddins' analysis of Crosby's marriage to Dixie Lee is insightful. It certainly was not the idyllic partnership portrayed in the press, but, according to Giddins, it was a relationship that, over time, helped stabilize Crosby, even as it de-stabilized Dixie.
As the Thrities progressed and Crosby became increasingly popular in film and on the radio, a "public" personality was carefully honed. This personality was breezy, avuncular, tolerant and moral. Of course, all of those qualities were inherent in Crosby to some degree, but as time passed, they came to define him more fully. More important, they came to define his vocal style and recording agenda.
Giddins discusses Crosby's mountainous early recordings in some detail, as well as his relationships with important musicians, specifically Eddie Lang, Joe Venuti and Bix Beiderbecke. For anyone interested in American popular music or popular culture, this is both an important book and a mighty good read. I await volume two with as much anticipation as my children await the next Harry Potter book.