Languor, Curls & Tonsils

Crooners are something like goldenrod: a new crop springs up every year. Last week, as usual, the woods were full of hopefuls.

On the networks, half a dozen male voices were making a lot of noise--and considerable money (next year they will take in close to $1,000,000). All six of these crooners had one or more things in common: rumply hair, wistful smiles and the languid air that makes some bobby-soxers want to squeal. As a group they were not necessarily the most promising singers.* But they were fairly typical of scores of eager aspirants to the crown of Crosby, the lesser diadem of Sinatra--or even the rich, purple mantles of Perry Como and Dick Haymes.

Velvet Fog. Delicate Mel Torme, known to his claque of feminine fans as the "Velvet Fog," is the boy with the butterscotch voice. At 21, Stylist Torme attributes his intimate whispers to a second growth of tonsils and a solid knowledge of music (rare, in a crooner).

When the Army discharged him because of his frail stomach, Mel began a well-publicized zoom. After starring in a movie (Good News), he pirouetted right into his own NBC show, Torme Time (Sat. 5:30 p.m.). Says Mel, somewhat mysteriously: "My face is not prolific. I'm a stylist. . . I've got a distinctive sound." Despite his unprolific face, Torme will probably make about $250,000 next year.

Destiny's Boy. Squatly handsome Gordon McRae, 26, believes that his career as a crooner was predestined: "I'm a very religious guy, you know. I believe that everyone has his own niche. . . ." From Deerfield Academy, destiny took Gordon to NBC as a $16-a-week pageboy. But he did not get very far, so the story goes, until CBS Board Chairman William Paley heard him sing.

Destiny, in the form of Selective Service, stepped in again. Two and a half years later, with a "deeper, more virile'' voice, Gordon was back. Last year he crooned to the tune of $100,000. Of his voice, he says: "I sing. My singing isn't intimate or swoony. I just like to get out there and pelt a song across. . . ."

Terrific Soul. Dean of the Class of 1947 is Bing-bald Buddy Clark, 35. In the late '30s, Buddy was well up into the second team of U.S. crooners, but his big mouth spoiled it all. Says one radio producer: "He'd louse up a song right on the air. You'd ask him why. Oh, he just felt like it." When Buddy got out of the Army in 1945, he was soberer, had a "new, terrific soul" in his voice. The Carnation program took a gamble on him (Mon. 10 p.m., NBC), and a Clark record (Linda) sold over a million copies. He now croons contentedly for over $100,000 a year.

Square Bop. Least known of radio's troubadours is Dick Farney, 25, a dark-eyed Brazilian baritone whose greatest claim to fame is his invention of the phrase "square bop" (a bad accompanist with a surface sense of rhythm, who confuses crooners).

At 17, Dick was a jazz pianist in Rio. One night his mother heard him sing. "Get lost with the piano," she advised him. So, says Dick, "I became the Beeng of Braseel." From Rio to the Milton Berle show (Tues. 8 p.m., NBC) was an easy jump.

The Creamer. When Johnny Desmond was a sergeant in France, he wowed the G.I.s and Parisian girls with his big baritone, for $72 a month (TIME, March 12, 1945). The day after he turned in his uniform, in November 1945, Johnny started singing on NBC's Teentimers show for $500 a week. Now he makes $75,000 a year. Although many of his ex-G.I. fans are still loyal to "The Creamer" (he has a "creamy" voice), Johnny has not yet overwhelmed the folks at home.

Twitchy & Bouncy. In 1932, Jackie Smith, then 16, sat in Los Angeles' Cocoanut Grove gaping at Bing Crosby and the Rhythm Boys. Then & there he swore an oath: "I'm going to make it my life's work to get on that stage." Within three months, Jack's life's work was completed, when he and two other high-school kids were signed to sing at the Grove. Twelve years later, Jack was still a promising young crooner. Last week his twitchy, bouncy tenor was being gargled for its third consecutive year on the air, with CBS's Jack Smith show (Mon.-Fri., 7:15 p.m.), and he was making a "nice four-figure thing." Says he, "I never expect to be a Sinatra. I just hope to last longer than some of these punks."

* This year the recordings of Eddy Howard, Frankie Laine, Art Lund, Phil Brito, Billy Eckstime and Vic Damone (TIME, July 21) have become bestsellers, jukebox leaders and disc-jockey favorites across the U.S.

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