Bob Hope: 100 years of memories, many created in Seattle
"Buddy," Mr. Hope yelled, addressing a Paramount manager by his nickname, "did you let these bums in?" The musicians on the bandstand chuckled, as did most of the journalists.
When Mr. Hope shook my hand, he pointed to a stagehand, facing away from us on hands and knees, fixing something on the floor. "Have you met Mark?" Mr. Hope asked. "That's his best side."
It was typical Bob Hope, who met everyone at the theater and remembered all their names. That rarely happened with big stars, another Paramount worker said.
The 100-year-old great comedian and American institution, who died late Sunday, was equally kind, thoughtful and unaffected the several times I interviewed him, and at his many local appearances. At that Paramount rehearsal, he asked for my business card. I thought he was being diplomatic. But from that year forward, I've been on his Christmas card list.
Ten years ago, when he turned 90, he did a special on NBC. I called the network beforehand and asked for an interview. They gave me Mr. Hope's home number in Toluca Lake, near Los Angeles. I called and his wife, Delores, answered. I asked if I could talk to Mr. Hope.
"Oh, I suppose so," she answered breezily. "Bob!" she said, "It's for you!"
When he came on the line, he said he was about to go golfing. He always talked about golf.
"Bing and I used to golf up there," he said, referring to Bing Crosby, his close friend and sidekick in seven "Road" pictures. "Bing was from Tacoma, you know, and he was always wanting me to go up there with him."
Mr. Hope visited here many times over the years, with and without Crosby, and grew to love Seattle.
"I love to come to Seattle, just to breathe," he quipped.
The first time I saw him live was in 1962 at the old Aqua Theater, where he played for a week, in conjunction with Century 21, the Seattle World's Fair.
"I was thrilled the first time I went up the Space Needle," he once said. "The way that thing whips around, I tipped the same waiter 12 times. It was moving so fast I had whitecaps on my onion soup."
In 1964, he was the first act to play the Seattle Center Coliseum (now KeyArena), after the former Washington State Pavilion at Century 21 was remodeled into a sports arena. He said he liked the Coliseum. "What door do the lions come out of?" he asked.
In 1969, he headlined a University of Washington homecoming event at Hec Edmundson Pavilion.
He looked around the unadorned brick edifice and said, "This is a lovely garage, isn't it?"
Outside, some 700 students staged a silent, candlelight demonstration against the Vietnam War. Mr. Hope, in a rare sour turn, said they were swayed by "commie influences."
Mr. Hope started coming here regularly as a participant, with other Hollywood stars, in War Bond rallies held downtown during World War II. In 1943, he headlined a patriotic event for the war effort at Husky Stadium. According to press reports, he arrived in a tank, his head sticking out of the turret.
He was the Grand Marshall for the 1958 Seafair Grand Parade, and returned the following year in the same role for the Torchlight Parade. He played the Puyallup Fair in 1985, '89 and '91.
He liked to fish in Northwest waters on his yacht, The Sapphire Sea II. He loved to tell the story of a chance meeting with a Makah chief at Neah Bay, Clallam County, who told him about a fishing spot called Spike Rock.
"We went there and, man, did we catch salmon," Mr. Hope said. One season, he and guests on his yacht took in 400 pounds of salmon and had it canned in Neah Bay.
When in Seattle, he liked to golf at Broadmoor, shop at Frederick & Nelson's and get suits made at Littler's. Through his friendship with legendary Seattle heart surgeon Lester Sauvage, he lent his name to the surgeon's research center, which became The Bob Hope International Heart Research Institute (and later, simply, The Hope Heart Institute).
"I've always enjoyed Seattle," he told me in a 1984 telephone interview, before a three-night Paramount run. "I've got kind of a warm spot in my heart for Seattle."
Patrick MacDonald: 206-464-2312 or pmacdonald@seattletimes.com
