“Danny Kaye – Untitled”

A GI drafts a civilian to visit the “Wonder Man” and dig up some juicy stories…

The Milwaukee Journal – Jun. 17, 1945

By: Corp. Jack Sher and David Greggory

HAWAII

DEAR DAVE: Via V-mail I hear from my ever-loving wife, Madeline, that THIS WEEK is interested in a story on Danny Kaye. On account of his new picture, “Wonder Man.” I would also be interested in such a story, but for different reasons. And my friend, Corp. Huck Ginn, being a Kaye fan, would also be interested in such a story.

I swore by a small beer I have a friend in Hollywood who is a friend of Danny Kaye’s. So, please go and see Danny and write me the results. All is fine here—so far.

Jack

HOLLYWOOD

DEAR JACK: Sunday morning I went out to Beverly Hills to see Danny Kaye. When I got there, Danny was playing catch in the back yard with his brother-in-law. Nothing would do but that I should play, too. Danny threw me a ball overhand and it slipped through my fingers and broke my glasses. Right away, he was very sorry and clucked over me and offered to pay for the glasses. I took him up on that. With his five-year contract with Goldwyn he can afford to pay for what he breaks.

Well, sonny, it was an eventful afternoon. Without my glasses don’t see so well and so can’t guarantee that it was really Dinah Shore who dropped in and was roped into reviving a jitterbug number she and Danny did in “Up in Arms.” It sounded like her. After she left, Danny had a long telephone conversation with Mary Livingston. I couldn’t make much sense out of the conversation.

Then Danny decided to cook dinner for us. He whipped up a spicy mess of spaghetti and chopped up a two-and-a-half-foot salami, which he poured over the top of it. And he made Sylvia, his wife, and me eat it.

How about some idea of the kind of stuff you want? Incidentally, not that I doubt your word, but I’m dropping Madeline a note to see if I’m wasting my time or not.

Dave

HAWAII—lovely place

DEAR DAVID: You should talk about wasting your time. How do you expect the readers to get any idea of what D. Kaye is like, if you gab about your glasses and a telephone conversation that does not mention what the contestants say? Describe the guy. What does his wife look like? How did he become a success? Give with some juicy stories. Nothing less will satisfy my pal, Huck. And it is not easy to make his mouth water.

Jack

HOLLYWOOD

DEAR JACK: Who are we writing this for, THIS WEEK or one Corp. Huck Ginn? And who pays? Lest you get too frantic, I’ll begin at the beginning, and when I’m through you can put it into English.

Tell the readers that Danny Kaye is six feet tall and very skinny. Describe yourself – that’s close enough. His hair was red when he was a kid, but time and worry have faded it to a pinkish brown. He has blue eyes, a long, anemic-looking face and long, anemic-looking arms and legs. Danny is always jumping about as though he were nervous. He is nervous. He’s always been nervous, he says.

His wife writes all his comedy material and, whenever Danny thinks anything she’s written is hilariously funny, she tears it up. That’s no gag. I’ve seen it happen.

He says he was born in Brooklyn on January 18th, 1913. He says he made his first dramatic appearance at P.S. 149 in the role of a watermelon seed. I now quote from Mr. Kaye:

“It was a minstrel show. The backdrop was painted like a slice of watermelon. We seeds stuck our heads through cut-outs. We were told to cover our faces with burnt cork. I forgot to cover my ears. That, plus my red hair, stopped the show.”

Well, my friend, I’m tired. Haven’t heard from Madeline yet and think this is enough work to do on pure speculation.

David

IWO JIMA

DEAR DAVID: I’m no longer basking my skinny body on Waikiki Beach. I’m blasting Japs out of caves. That makes it difficult to write stories. Look alive, civilian. Send me more on Kaye. And make it snappy!

Jack

HOLLYWOOD

DEAR JACK: Don’t act so nasty. I can quit on you any time. Money is not essential here. However, I’m kind of sentimental about morale—so I went to see Danny again yesterday. I couldn’t find him right away, but Sylvia and I located him in the laundry—washing golf balls.

Now, back to Danny’s career. In high school, Danny couldn’t decide whether he wanted to go on the stage or be a doctor. The Depression took care of that. He had an act with a school buddy, but nobody clamored for them. Danny was a soda jerk, then an insurance salesman. By sheer luck he landed up in the Catskills, and for the next four summers played the now famous “Borscht Circuit.” Then he hooked up with a dance team and embarked for the Orient.

Danny says to be sure and give the oriental stage hands credit for his stage presence. He never knew what they’d do next. Many times, he was left without props and had to be funny—or else. Also, the gags weren’t very clear to the audiences. So, for laughs, Danny hit on the double talking and pantomime that sends us wild now.

Eventually, Danny got back to New York only to discover that nobody was impressed by his success in the Orient. He did a few little odd theatrical and night club jobs—and still nobody was impressed. Nobody, that is, except a small, pretty, dark girl named Sylvia Fine. Get it? Sylvia didn’t go for Danny personally, but she thought he was funny. So she wrote his material and really put Danny through it. Danny convinced her that she went for him personally and they got married.

Before a week had passed, an agent talked loud and fast to the manager of a 57th Street night club—and Danny had a job at the unheard-of salary of $250 a week. Sylvia wrote material furiously for Danny’s debut and Danny practiced ditto.

The rest is theatrical record. He wowed ‘em in a small part in “Lady in the Dark,” wowed ‘em on Broadway in “Let’s Face It.” Then Goldwyn got him for “Up in Arms” and has had him ever since.

That’s all, brother, but be sure to put in that “Wonder Man” is a swell picture. Also, put in some nice things about Danny, because he’s really a good guy and always has been.

Dave

SAIPAN

DEAR DAVE: I’m cheering! So you finally came through with some material. But what’s with something real personal? And hurry up! The mail has trouble enough finding me without your wasting time.

Has Sylvia got a temper? Also, sweetheart, what about a title for this yarn?

Jack

HOLLYWOOD

DEAR JACK: Sylvia has a temper. So have I. What do you want for no contract—a book?

Danny is a little wacky at times. He can’t stand his own records and won’t let Sylvia play them in the house. If she came in and told him she’d lost all their money on a bad investment, he wouldn’t turn a hair. But let her put a vase somewhere that offends his eye and he screams. But she can handle him, brother, she can handle him.

Also, Danny never got over wanting to be a doctor. He’s forever chasing off to watch operations and doctors say he knows almost as much about the inside workings of human beings as most doctors.

About a title: Just put down “Danny Kaye—Untitled.” No matter what we think up, the editor will change it.

Danny sends his regards and tells me to tell you that on your way home from the Pacific you must be sure and stop in and see him and he’ll cook you up a dinner. Take my advice. Take the long way home.

David

GUAM

MADDIE DARLING: Got one foot on another plane. Haven’t time to do anything with this. You do something with it. I love you. Will write soon. Don’t worry.

Jack

NEW YORK CITY

EDITOR, THIS WEEK: What shall I do with this?

Madeline Sher

- Home -