Hip Hokum

When top studio Trumpeter Doc Severinsen became music director of the Tonight Show in 1967, he started by wearing sober suits on-camera. Then one night he wore a colorful Pucci tie, and Johnny Carson kidded him about it. Next Doc showed up in a zippier suit; more kidding. Soon the routine evolved into the ritual that is now familiar to millions of viewers: an ever more outrageously garbed Doc leading the band through the opening theme, then turning to await the gibes. "That looks like Roddy McDowall's diving-board cover," Carson will say of a white jumpsuit trimmed in rhinestones. Or, of a suede and satin set of Western threads, "I wouldn't wear that to fondle Randolph Scott's saddle horn."

Innocuous talk-show badinage, perhaps, but on that frail foundation Doc has built a lucrative second career. Capitalizing on his Tonight image, he has branched out on his own, both as a guest soloist with symphony orchestras and star of the campus and nightclub circuit. He has his own eleven-piece back-up band called the Now Generation Brass and a company of ten singers and dancers called Today's Children. In 1971, with state fairs, appearances in special events like the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade and entertainment for football festivities like those at last week's Liberty Bowl, Doc has been on the road during all but three weekends of the year. Such activities bring him a gross income of $500,000--more than three times his Tonight Show salary.

Doc's nightclub act--on view most recently at Manhattan's Copacabana --is a mixture of hipness and hokum, during which he goes through a succession of four costume changes. The gags are mostly spin-offs from Tonight. "I was out Christmas shopping for my boss Johnny Carson today," he says. "It's hard to buy for him because what can you buy for a man whose wives have everything?"

Home Dinners. His big production number is a musical setting of the 150th Psalm, which must have been a first for the Copa. Wearing a beaded vest over blue satin shirt, Doc conducts and plays while a thunderous offstage voice intones, "Praise ye the Lord, /Praise him with the sound of the trumpet." Later he reminisces about childhood days in Arlington, Ore. (pop. 686), gives a brief recital on musical spoons, and reveals that his clothes are not hand-me-downs from Liberace's wardrobe, but are often sewed by his wife.

There is indeed more folksiness than foppery in the offstage Doc (real name: Carl). He lives in New Jersey on a 65-acre spread called Harmony Farms, where he likes to slop around in faded jeans and a five-gallon hat and pore over books on the bloodlines of his twelve race and show horses. After his weekday stints on TV, Doc, a teetotaler, tries as often as possible to drive home at 8:30 for dinner.

He also tries to practice the trumpet at least two hours a day. An alumnus of the big bands of Tommy Dorsey and Benny Goodman and long in demand as a recording artist (12 LPs), Doc now blows the horn for such products as Trouble cologne and Jalapeno Bean Dip on TV commercials. He is already gearing up for one of his biggest outside engagements to date, a concert in Manhattan's Philharmonic Hall. Is it about time for a Doc Severinsen TV special? He shrugs and quotes the Bible: "Wherefore take ye the whole armor of God, then stand waiting." On Doc, a suit of armor might not even seem out of place.

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