“Danny and Dinah—They’re a New Team”

The Milwaukee Journal – Mar. 19, 1944

Mr. Kaye and Radio’s Miss Shore Look Like a Hit in the Films

The Samuel Goldwyn studio was one of Hollywood’s quietest spots until Danny Kaye arrived. Then into this dream world behind its guarded gates came a lean herring of a young fellow with a wide mouth and blond hair. He was never two minutes the same. Devoid of inhibitions, he rocketed along the studio streets, laughing, singing, double talking, acting intoxicated, bursting with exuberant life.

It was a continuous show. Secretaries blew him kisses from the windows of offices. Producers, directors and department heads of one sort and another stood laughing as he passed, or trooped along behind him like kids following a circus parade.

As for Danny Kaye, the 31 year old singing comic from Broadway, in Hollywood to make his movie debut as star of the color filmusical “Up in Arms,” he was having the time of his life.

In “Up in Arms” Danny enjoys himself thoroughly. He plays a hypochondriac draftee on the loose in an impossible Pacific isle—a jungle whose steam heated, air conditioned trees spout gorgeous girls. That will give you an idea of the plot through which he romps with the aid of radio’s lovely Dinah Shore, Dana Andrews, Constance Dowling and a flock of chorus girls.

Danny Has to Clown, Dinah Has to Sing

And “romps” is right. There was never a dull moment on the “Up in Arms” sets even when the camera wasn’t recording. Veteran movie actors might sink into a chair and snooze or gossip between scenes, but not if Danny was around. In Dinah Shore, that dynamo of rhythm, Danny found a good partner to share his hilarity. Dinah would rather sing than eat. Danny’s really happy only when he’s clowning.

But Dinah’s is another story. This is about the chap who in one year jumped from Broadway obscurity to fame in “Let’s Face It,” which ran 16 months and made him a sensation.

Hollywood was a new world to Danny. And he ate it up—he didn’t just toy with it like a sweets surfeited girl slowly lapping an ice cream spoon. The studio make-up department fascinated him. He’d duck in there at odd moments, investigate its potentialities. Beards especially fascinated him. He loved getting in and out of beards. Often, at the end of a day’s work, he’d dash into make-up, then dash out again looking like somebody’s refugee relative or an escaped lunatic.

“Some friend is in for it when Danny rings the bell,” his wife, Sylvia, would say.

She’s used to him. Quiet, dark-haired Mrs. Kaye is the Sylvia Fine who writes most of Danny’s material. He gives her the credit of putting his name on marquees.

Jerked Sodas a While; Fired as Adjuster

Danny’s been having fun a new world ever since he can remember. His is a story straight from the sidewalks of New York. After high school came a series of miscellaneous jobs. He jerked sodas, worked as an adjuster for an insurance company until a mistake got him tossed out on his ear.

Then a talent for mimicry and song sent him to playing that set of New York summer camps and resort hotels known as the “borsch circuit.” He was a waiter, general funny man, juvenile, character actor in the semipro companies. On rainy days he’d even fall into the pool fully clothed, complete with straw hat, to keep the vacationers from catching the next train home.

Then Sylvia Fine entered his life. She wrote lyrics with one Max Liebman. In nothing flat, with about $70 between them, Danny and she were married, and Danny’s luck turned. Moss Hart signed him for a part in the stage version of “Lady in the Dark,” and on opening night Danny stopped the show. Sixteen months later he was in Hollywood making a moving picture tailored for his comedy talents.

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