says, “Hey, this kid’s got talent.” I said, “Really, Joey? What’s my talent?” Those comedians love to be challenged. They can end wars. They can do anything. What is the talent? He said, “You—you are a great listener.”
So now we’re doing the show but, you know, he was nervous about it. He’s a comedian, not a talk show host. So every day we would take about a forty-five-minute walk up Vine Street—to Hollywood Boulevard and back down—to relax him. And when you walk and talk with somebody for three years every day, it gets down to what did you want to be when you were a kid. I said, “Joey, what’d you want to be?” “I wanted to be a comedian. Ten years old I’m on the corners of Philadelphia telling jokes, making people laugh. People would be falling down laughing.” I said, “You did it! Hanging out with Frank and Dean and Sammy. Geez, that’s great!” He said, “What did you want to do?” I said, “When I was six years old, I wanted to be Bing Crosby.” “What?” I explained that I used to listen to Bing on the radio. There was no television, nothing, just the radio, and I listened to Bing Crosby sing. I knew all the songs, all the words, and for a while there, you know, I actually thought I would be Bing.
Four months later Bing Crosby is a guest on the show. Well, I couldn’t believe it. He’s gonna sit next to me. I was so nervous to meet him in person after all those years admiring him. It brought back memories of my cold kitchen on cold nights, or the hot kitchen on warm nights, singing with Bing and learning those songs. It was just a thrill.
So Bishop remembered what I told him. And he said, “Bing, see this kid? Biggest fan you ever had. It would be a thrill for him, Bing, if you would sing a song to him.” Crosby looks at me and I look at him. So Bing sings, “Over in Killarney, many years ago.” He sings an old Irish song that he sang in Going My Way . We go to commercial break. Geez. What a thrill. Bing Crosby sang and dedicated a song to me. We come out of commercial break, Bishop hasn’t had enough. He says, “Bing, that was very nice. I’m sure Regis enjoyed it. But let me tell you something. This kid knew all of your songs. All the lyrics. Regis, sing a song to Bing.” I’m thinking, Oh, my God! And Bing Crosby turns. I smile, but you know those blue eyes. I’m thinking, What was the last song I sang? And I go back to Gus Falcone in the Music Hall with my mother crying and my father. So I started singing “Pennies from Heaven.” I sang the whole song, including the verse. And Bing comes in a little bit—a buhbuhbuhboo. And the next day I get a telegram from Mercury Records about them wanting me for a recording contract. But Joey reads the telegram and says, “Somebody’s playing a joke on you.” He throws the telegram away. I say, “Geez, maybe that’s true. I don’t sing.”
Next day the guy called up from Mercury Records in Chicago. “Well, what is it?” I said, “I’m in!” And I made the record.
* * *
Note: I didn’t know Regis when we both lived in the Bronx, but we ended up living in Manhattan on the Upper West Side in the same building and on the same floor.
The prize-winning documentaries The Bronx Boys and The Bronx Boys Still Playing at 80 are both about the reunions of a group of fifteen men who grew up in the same neighborhood in the Bronx and who kept their close friendships with one another, mostly from kindergarten. Two of the Bronx Boys are George Shapiro and Howard West. They were interviewed separately but because they told one continuous narrative their two stories are combined as one.
GEORGE SHAPIRO
(1931– )
AND HOWARD WEST
(1931– )
Agents, producers, personal managers
George Shapiro: I met Howard West, who was a new kid to our school, when we were both eight years old, in third grade. Maybe the reason why we bonded so much was because out of fifteen of us just Howie and I, at eight,
So now we’re doing the show but, you know, he was nervous about it. He’s a comedian, not a talk show host. So every day we would take about a forty-five-minute walk up Vine Street—to Hollywood Boulevard and back down—to relax him. And when you walk and talk with somebody for three years every day, it gets down to what did you want to be when you were a kid. I said, “Joey, what’d you want to be?” “I wanted to be a comedian. Ten years old I’m on the corners of Philadelphia telling jokes, making people laugh. People would be falling down laughing.” I said, “You did it! Hanging out with Frank and Dean and Sammy. Geez, that’s great!” He said, “What did you want to do?” I said, “When I was six years old, I wanted to be Bing Crosby.” “What?” I explained that I used to listen to Bing on the radio. There was no television, nothing, just the radio, and I listened to Bing Crosby sing. I knew all the songs, all the words, and for a while there, you know, I actually thought I would be Bing.
Four months later Bing Crosby is a guest on the show. Well, I couldn’t believe it. He’s gonna sit next to me. I was so nervous to meet him in person after all those years admiring him. It brought back memories of my cold kitchen on cold nights, or the hot kitchen on warm nights, singing with Bing and learning those songs. It was just a thrill.
So Bishop remembered what I told him. And he said, “Bing, see this kid? Biggest fan you ever had. It would be a thrill for him, Bing, if you would sing a song to him.” Crosby looks at me and I look at him. So Bing sings, “Over in Killarney, many years ago.” He sings an old Irish song that he sang in Going My Way . We go to commercial break. Geez. What a thrill. Bing Crosby sang and dedicated a song to me. We come out of commercial break, Bishop hasn’t had enough. He says, “Bing, that was very nice. I’m sure Regis enjoyed it. But let me tell you something. This kid knew all of your songs. All the lyrics. Regis, sing a song to Bing.” I’m thinking, Oh, my God! And Bing Crosby turns. I smile, but you know those blue eyes. I’m thinking, What was the last song I sang? And I go back to Gus Falcone in the Music Hall with my mother crying and my father. So I started singing “Pennies from Heaven.” I sang the whole song, including the verse. And Bing comes in a little bit—a buhbuhbuhboo. And the next day I get a telegram from Mercury Records about them wanting me for a recording contract. But Joey reads the telegram and says, “Somebody’s playing a joke on you.” He throws the telegram away. I say, “Geez, maybe that’s true. I don’t sing.”
Next day the guy called up from Mercury Records in Chicago. “Well, what is it?” I said, “I’m in!” And I made the record.
* * *
Note: I didn’t know Regis when we both lived in the Bronx, but we ended up living in Manhattan on the Upper West Side in the same building and on the same floor.
The prize-winning documentaries The Bronx Boys and The Bronx Boys Still Playing at 80 are both about the reunions of a group of fifteen men who grew up in the same neighborhood in the Bronx and who kept their close friendships with one another, mostly from kindergarten. Two of the Bronx Boys are George Shapiro and Howard West. They were interviewed separately but because they told one continuous narrative their two stories are combined as one.
GEORGE SHAPIRO
(1931– )
AND HOWARD WEST
(1931– )
Agents, producers, personal managers
George Shapiro: I met Howard West, who was a new kid to our school, when we were both eight years old, in third grade. Maybe the reason why we bonded so much was because out of fifteen of us just Howie and I, at eight,
Similar Books
