[Dixielandjazz] Doris Day interviewed

[Robert Ringwald]

Sunny Day Keeps on Shining
by Will Friedwald
Wall Street Journal, March 29, 2011
No matter how hard you try to remain formal, about 10 minutes into your conversation
with Doris Day you find yourself addressing her as "Doris." "Ms. Day" may be the
appropriate honorific for a respectable newspaper, but it's proof of her effectiveness
as a singer and actress that you quickly feel like you've known her forever. In that
sense, Ms. Day's allure was the opposite of Elizabeth Taylor's: sunny rather than
sultry, an icon of optimism as opposed to seduction -- but no less sexy in her own
way.
I've spoken with Ms. Day, the top-grossing actress of all time, on about half a dozen
occasions now, and one point that we hit upon during nearly every conversation is
the volume of fan mail that still crosses her doorstep daily -- a fact that never
ceases to amaze her. "When I first came up here," she said recently by phone from
her home in Carmel, Calif., where she's lived for the past 30 years, "I put all my
records and everything away. I didn't think anybody cared if they heard me or not."
She assumed that her work would be forgotten. "It's hard for me to understand why
all these people write me, and they say, 'Sometimes I'm feeling so down, I can't
get myself out of it, and then I put your record on, and I'm OK.' Can you imagine?"
As a lifelong fan, I can easily accept what she has a hard time believing: that after
so many years out of the spotlight, her recordings and films continue to be cherished
by generation after generation. (Later this year, Sony Music will release a retrospective
box set, for which Ms. Day is personally selecting her favorite tracks.)
Ms. Day, who turns 86 on Sunday, is that rare movie star who has no problem telling
people her age. Some sources claim that she was born in 1922; Ms. Day explains that
this error arose because in 1940, when she sang professionally for the first time,
she had to give her age as 18. But one fact she refuses to admit is the number of
dogs -- all rescued animals -- that live with her in Carmel. "I have many dogs, but
I can't put the exact number in print. But my place is big here, so when they bark,
nobody's bothered. I've had so many, and I've found homes and homes and homes for
them, but some of them are so precious that I couldn't give them up for anything.
I love my babies."
It's an urban legend that Ms. Day became a recluse upon leaving show business. In
reality, she talks to the people she likes -- but that doesn't usually include the
media. She lives an active life engaged in animal-welfare work (her organization,
the Doris Day Animal League, is now part of the Humane Society, and she is currently
opening a horse sanctuary in Texas). Her neighbors (including Clint Eastwood) are
hardly surprised to see her walking any number of her "babies."
Her interest in animal rights probably dates back to even before her interest in
singing. Ms. Day was a budding dancer in her native Cincinnati, a career that was
cut short by a car accident at age 13. "I could barely walk for a few years, and
my mother thought it would be nice for me to be doing something that I loved, and
I said 'I love to sing!' We had heard about [voice coach] Grace Raines. They had
to carry me up the stairs to see her. Isn't that a riot?"
Raines was so impressed that she wanted to teach the youngster three days a week,
and did so even though Ms. Day's mother could afford only one weekly lesson. Raines
not only taught Ms. Day her technique, but arranged for her earliest jobs with the
big bands of Barney Rapp, Bob Crosby and, most famously, Les Brown.
Ms. Day's career as a singer was also almost cut short prematurely when she retired
in 1941 -- only temporarily, thankfully -- to get married. As she detailed in "Doris
Day: Her Own Story," written with A.E. Hotchner, that first husband turned out to
be violently abusive. "I don't even want to talk about it," she said. "Anyway, that
was really a mistake." Even after she left with their infant son, Terry, "he followed
me, and I had to hide" -- which was difficult, as she had taken a job singing on
the air on Cincinnati's WLW. "My mother was frantic."
Eventually, Brown "rescued" Ms. Day by bringing her back on the road; initially she
refused because she didn't want to leave Terry behind, but Brown was so eager for
Ms. Day to rejoin the band that he offered to let her mother and son travel with
her. His generosity paid off handsomely when their 1945 recording of "Sentimental
Journey" became not only a blockbuster hit but an iconic theme for legions of veterans
coming home from the war. Small wonder the two remained friends for the rest of Brown's
days, until his death in 2001 -- something that can't be said for most big-band "canaries"
and their former bandleaders.
The only time Ms. Day sounds sad is when she talks about the friends she's outlived.
"Do you know that almost everyone I've worked with is gone? I can't believe it. And
you know I have pictures of all of them with me, and I have them framed, and it saddens
me when I look at them because every film or album that I did was just a happy experience."
She tears up at the memory of Rock Hudson; he was her leading man in three classic
romantic comedies, and died of AIDS shortly after making one of his final public
appearances, on Ms. Day's mid-'80s television series "Doris Day's Best Friends."
The one loss that upsets her more is that of Terry, her only child, who was a songwriter
and producer. Terry fell victim to melanoma at age 62 in 2004. "My darling son. He
was always helping everybody else.... I was so young when I had him, we were like
sister and brother. The Beach Boys were dying to take him on the road with them,
but he didn't want to leave his own son behind. It's not right, you know, that your
child goes to heaven before you. I know he's in heaven, because he was a good person."
The thought brings her back to the letters, as if she compensates for the loss she
feels by concentrating on the pleasure that her work continues to bring to millions
of people. "I mean, it's not like I'm young or anything."


--Bob Ringwald
www.ringwald.com
Fulton Street Jazz Band
530/ 642-9551 Office
916/ 806-9551 Cell
Amateur (Ham) Radio K6YBV

If 4 out of 5 people SUFFER from diarrhea
does that mean that one enjoys it?