GETAWAY I
T’S a classic song that everyone lovingly associates with the festive period. Bing Crosby’s White Christmas has been a standard ever since he recorded it 75 years ago, during the Second World War.
He first sang it in public on Christmas Day, and it remained the best-selling song of all time for 56 years. It was only knocked off that top spot by Elton John’s Candle in the Wind following the death of Princess Diana in 1997. Even so, it’s still the best-selling Christmas song to this day.
It contains just 54 words and 72 notes but its wistful, melancholic lyrics, and longing for an idealised past of a snowy, winter wonderland – ‘just like the ones I used to know’ – has a special resonance.
It was first heard on Bing’s US radio show only 18 days after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour, and it was released in 1942 when American and British troops were stationed abroad, still dreaming of a wholesome white Christmas back home.
The song has even greater poignancy, given that its composer Irving Berlin, who was surprised at its success, lost his three-week-old son on Christmas Day 1928, and subsequently visited his grave on that day every year, without fail.
Forty years on from Bing’s death, everyone still carries a torch for him in his hometown of Spokane in eastern Washington State, 200 miles or so inland from Seattle on the USA’s Pacific Coast. His home, a comfortable wooden structure with a covered front porch, is still there, and is open to the public.
The custodian tells you with pride how Bing – his real name was Harry Lillis Crosby – scored the most No1 hits ever. His tally of 38 compares to The Beatles’ 24 and Elvis’s 18. Not to mention his film credits, his ‘Road’ films with Bob Hope still being remembered fondly.
You learn how his father and uncles built the Crosby home on the fringe of Gonzaga University, which Bing attended until he dropped out to seek his musical fortune in Los Angeles. A children’s comic character called Bingo led to a Spokane school pal calling him just that, a name that was shortened to Bing and which stuck.
They’re happy to talk about their favourite son in Spokane, a onetime gritty city that is now a pleasant and interesting place in its own right.
Leaving the Crosby house, you can see the university building where Bing studied, before he was distracted by playing drums in a band. There’s a statue of him outside the building he donated as a library to Gonzaga University – named after a Catholic saint – and where the Crosby Collection of papers resides.
In the centre of rejuvenated Spokane, now a charming city clustered round the same-name river and its wonderful basalt rock waterfalls, is the re-named Bing Crosby Theatre. It’s where he first saw the ‘greats,’ such as Al Jolson, and where he first performed himself.
The 750-seat theatre, opened as the Clem Theatre in 1915, was run down and threatened until being saved by hotel owner Jerry Dicker.
He shelled out £500,000 to restore it but is frustrated by a lack of whole-hearted support, which means it struggles to break-even.
As a fan, Jerry also spent thousands of dollars buying the definitive collection of Bing Crosby artefacts and says: “Everyone begged me to save the theatre and obtain the collection, but we need more use of the facility.
“Bing is revered here but I’m constantly irked by the battle to keep the flame burning.”
Talking of which, Spokane went from Boomtown to Burntown when The Great Fire of 1889 destroyed it. Name up in lights: The front of Spokane’s Bing Crosby Theatre, a constant reminder of the city’s favourite son, and the plush and stylish interior, left
Apparently, the fire chief was out of town with the fire station key in his pocket – he struggled to maintain credibility in the aftermath.
Meanwhile, an enterprising young man called Louis Davenport opened a restaurant in a tent, built up the business, transferred it to newly built stone premises, then built a swish hotel in 1913. Naturally, it was called the Davenport and was the last word in style and elegance.
Once again, the wheel of fortune turned and less than 100 years on, it closed down and was in danger of being demolished.
Up stepped a wonderfully named entrepreneur, Walt Worthy, who restored the hotel to its former glory. Today, it’s a real joy to stay there, with the staff showing obvious pride in the born-again ‘Living Room of Spokane.’
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None more so than 88-year-old doorman John Reed, who has worn his red coat tails at the Davenport for 75 years, and has a guaranteed job for as long as he likes.
Incidentally, the Davenport’s mattresses are so comfortable that singer Neil Diamond bought one and had it shipped to his New York home.
Spokane is constantly surprising and complements high-tech Seattle well. It was put on the map by the Northern railroad that ran all the way across America from Chicago to service the productive silver mines, lumber industry and vast wheat fields that made Spokane a boom town in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
It’s had its ‘downs’ since then, but is now on the ‘up.’ Amazingly, in 1974, a guy called King Cole – ‘Nat’ to his friends – beat off international competition to put on the World Fair, attracting 5.5 million visitors to a city with barely 200,000 residents. The audacious project regenerated
Economy class car hire is from £146 for five days with rental cars.com. For further information see visitspokane.com; visitseattle. org; portseattle.org; citypass. com; cascadeloop.com