American Legends- Abbott & Costello Read online

  Even more importantly, the movie saved Universal Studios from going bankrupt and proved to be a financial boon for Abbott and Costello. As Costello’s daughter explained, “When Universal was really fighting to keep their doors open, Abbott and Costello were offered to buy Universal Studios and they turned it down…But, it was really my dad when negotiating with Universal, which was a B-movie studio back then, who got their 10% gross on their films. That was unheard of back then for any up-and-coming stars.” The film did impact the war effort, though not in the way that the producer had hoped; when Japan acquired a copy, the Japanese used it as anti-American propaganda by asserting it was an accurate portrayal of how American soldiers really acted.

  Back in America, however, Abbott and Costello were hot property. They were immediately signed by Universal to make Hold That Ghost (1941), but when Hold That Ghost was held back for further editing, the next Abbott and Costello movie released was a sequel to Buck Privates. Called In the Navy (1941), it featured many of the same types of skits and routines, but this time the guys being trained were sailors, not soldiers. This almost ended up quashing the film itself when the Navy seemed to lack the Army’s sense of humor. Navy brass were offended by Costello’s portrayal of Captain Pomeroy, who seemed to be completely mad, and those working on the movie came under enough pressure that the director had to re-shoot an entire scene before the movie could be released, making it appear to be a dream sequence instead of an actual incompetent maneuver.

  Within days of opening, it became clear that In the Navy would far outpace Buck Privates in popularity and earnings. In fact, some theaters had to stay open all night with one showing following another just to accommodate the crowds wanting to see the movie. One thing that the audiences appreciated was the sense that Abbott and Costello were having fun making the movie; for instance, the director left in a scene in which Costello began laughing so hard that he spit a mouthful of water onto the ship’s deck. For at least one critic, the gags were what made the movie a hit: “Maybe they aren't quite as funny as they were in ‘Buck Privates,’ but even fair with Abbott and Costello is good enough for now. There is something about the frenzy of Costello dressed up in an out-size admiral's suit and directing the wild maneuvers of a battle-wagon over a telephone which bears the best hallmark of clowns. Or the spectacle of the chubby sidewalk rustic falling prey to his slick partner's arch shell-game is as funny now as it has always been—and they've been playing it here and there for a long time. Even the bout of the little fat guy with a sailor's hammock is good for laughs. Yes, the boys make something of ‘In the Navy’ in spite of the fact that there is very little there.”

  When Hold That Ghost did finally premiere in August 1941, one critic wrote that it marked “three straight hits in a row for Abbott and Costello…”, but he was not completely blown away by the movie, adding that “the boys are immensely funny as they romp through a ramshackle house abounding in secret passageways, sliding panels, clutching hands, eerie sound effects and all sorts of trick contraptions. An ideal background, to be sure, but the boys linger in it a little too long. For while their bag of tricks is considerable, it is by no means inexhaustible.”

  The duo next made their third military comedy, Keep ‘Em Flying (1941). This time the Army Air Corps was their target, and Pat Costello performed some of his younger brother’s stunts for him. It was released to help celebrate a national tribute to the Air Corps, the Keep ‘Em Flying Week, and the movie did well at the box office despite not being particularly popular among critics. One critic asserted, “For ‘Keep 'Em Flying’ is not exactly a triumph in the field of comic art…its story is but a backdrop against which the boys do their burley-cue turns, and any points of contact between Abbott and Costello and it are purely coincidental. In fact, it is only proximity which brings them in touch at all with a routine and sticky story…And whenever the latter is foremost, the picture is decidedly in the shade.”

  Having exhausted their military-themed options (or being too afraid to make fun of the Marines), Abbott and Costello next turned toward the classic Westerns by making Ride ‘Em Cowboy (1942). Filmed on location at two dude ranches, its release was delayed so that Keep ‘Em Flying could be completed. Nonetheless, Ride ‘Em Cowboy was the 8th biggest money maker of 1942, and according to one critic, “Costello doesn't catch on to things very quickly, but when he does he moves with desperate and comical agility. With Abbott as a perfect straight man, the pair are still two of the dizziest buffoons at large…‘Ride 'Em Cowboy’ hits high spots with Abbott and Costello, but it does have a lot of interruptions.”

  On the afternoon of December 7, 1941, Abbott and Costello were at the MGM studio (to whom they had been loaned by Universal) working on Rio Rita (1942) when they learned that Pearl Harbor had been bombed. They discussed cancelling their plans to place their handprints in the cement outside Grauman’s Chinese Theatre the next day but ultimately decided that they should go on with the ceremony as planned. They wanted to show the nation that no matter what might come, it was important to go on with life as planned. This was a critical statement for both the movie industry and the country, especially coming from the third most popular movie draw in the United States. A year later, they’d be number one.

  According to one report, Abbott and Costello signed a new contract in February 1942 that provided Costello 60% of their joint salaries, but Chris Costello disputed that and claimed it never happened. Either way, the men would be making a lot of money, as Rio Rita alone made MGM more than a million dollars. Critics were generally positive, with one writing, “A musical-comedy plot is worth only as many gags, songs and nonsensical merriment that you can pack into it. So perhaps it's just as well that Abbott and Costello, those lunatic tumbleweeds, should take almost complete charge.”

  Pardon My Sarong (1942), the team’s next hit, premiered in Paterson as part of a special arrangement to raise money for the Costello family’s church, St. Anthony’s. According to Costello himself, “I first learned about really helping other human beings from a priest at Saint Anthony’s church in my home town, Paterson, New Jersey. The small wooden church over which he presided had been condemned and a new church was badly needed. The priest came to me with his problem. I assured him that I would gladly make a donation toward a new church. But, the priest shook his head and said, ‘I’m sure you and your friends would be glad to build a new church and I appreciate it. But that’s not really the way to help. You see, Lou, the whole congregation want to have a hand in erecting a new church. If it’s just given to them, they’ll never feel that they did their share of work to make it possible.’ This line of reasoning rather puzzled me, so I asked, ‘If you don’t want money, what can I do to help?’ With a smile the priest replied, ‘You can put on a benefit to raise money. The people of the church will sell tickets. In this way, Lou, you will be helping people to help themselves.’ So I did it the priest’s way…and the wooden church was replaced by a nice brick one.” That was one of the earliest examples of Costello’s philanthropy, but others would soon follow.

  Meanwhile, Pardon My Sarong proved to be both critically acclaimed and a box office hit, becoming the second highest money maker of 1942. According to The New York Times, “Bud Abbott and Lou Costello, whose contacts with realities are becoming progressively more remote, have now reached the fanciful extremity of an uncharted tropical isle in their latest Universal buffoonery, ‘Pardon My Sarong…’ And this, in a time of crisis, is a safe and proper place for them to be. For here…these two burlesque Quixotes can fire their gags and generally rough-house around without placing anything in peril, with the possible exception of their customers' sides.”

  1942 also marked the beginning of a new project for Abbott and Costello when they landed their own radio show. Sponsored by Camel, it was called simply The Abbott and Costello Show. Each week’s episode featured a humorous mix of musical numbers and comedic sketches, and the men were able to use their fame to entice a number of big stars, including Mel Bl
anc, to make regular appearances. Lucille Ball and The Andrews Sisters also dropped by occasionally to perform.

  Mel Blanc

  The Andrews Sisters

  The Andrews Sisters performing in the Abbott and Costello film Private Buckaroo.

  Chapter 4: Laughter and Tears

  “All my life I have had a horror of dramatics, and I was glad that no one, that fateful day in March, told me that my days were numbered. I was glad that instead of shaking heads, and monosyllabic conversations, and whispered conferences behind closed doors, I was met on every side by smiling faces, cheering messages and corny jokes. More than anything else, this showed me that you can lick some of the worst with a little of the best that your friends have to give. And my friends certainly rallied around me.” - Lou Costello

  Costello was working on It Ain’t Hay (1943) in November 1942 when his son, Lou, Jr., was born. He joined two sisters: Paddy (born in 1936) and Carole (born in 1938). Lou, Jr. also had a playmate in Bud Abbott, Jr., whom Bud and Jenny had adopted earlier that year. After completing work on that film, Abbott and Costello threw themselves into making Hit the Ice, completing filming on New Year’s Eve 1942. Next up was a two-month trip to entertain American troops serving at home and abroad.

  By the time the men made it back to their homes at the end of February 1943, Costello had fallen seriously ill, and a few days later, he was diagnosed with rheumatic fever. He later told a magazine, “It was on a Wednesday that I first felt the pains that were to send me to bed, and preclude activity on my part for over nine months…On the following day it didn’t (clear up) and I was trying vainly to remember how I might have overexerted myself. I resorted to hot and cold applications, and that evening on my usual broadcast I hopped about on one foot – the pain was so bad. The audience loved my antics, thinking it a new gag on my part…The following day, Friday, there was no improvement in my condition…I got up to dress, and was walking across the room to pick up my clothes, when it happened. I stood still suddenly, rooted to the floor, and unable to budge an inch. This was a charley horse with a vengeance. The next day, Saturday, Dr. Victor Kovner told me that I had rheumatic fever. Hearing from him that it was a children’s disease reassured me; nothing, I thought, that a child suffers can be serious.”

  Unfortunately, he was wrong, as his condition was very serious and would keep him confined to bed for the remainder of 1943. Thankfully, Costello had a very suitable temperament for making the best of things. He would later write, “I found myself suddenly projected into a new world. A world that I never knew existed until then. And because I had never before come in contact with sickness and disaster, I suddenly saw a lot of things for the first time – things that before had meant very little to me…the important thing now was to wait and see, and not look too much on the black side of things. It was while doing just this that I realized how much everything that was going on around me was quickly assembling itself in a pattern of peace and contentment and heartening encouragement.”

  Costello was also very fortunate to be surrounded by his family and, of course, his closest friends. He would later say, “Not a day passed but Bud Abbott, my partner, didn’t make a loyal and lengthy appearance. Never, from him, so much as a remark as to what would happen to the team if anything happened to me…Bud, the straight man, has never said any of the funny lines. Now all that was changed, and…Bud’s new role had a lot to do with my getting well.” Not only did Abbott take it on himself to amuse his partner, he also remained loyal to him by turning down a number of offers to appear in movies or on stage by himself.

  Naturally, being confined to his room gave Costello a new perspective on the world around him: “I saw from my window that the trees behind the pool bore fruit, and how the lawn near the guest house needed something done to it, and whether my radio antenna wouldn’t be better moved over to the other side. I was a stranger looking at my own house. All of a sudden there were a million things to do. And I couldn’t help saying to myself, ‘Gosh, Lou, you’re not ill. You’re having a vacation. The first you’ve had in twelve years. Besides, you’ve got to get well; look at all the things around that need your attention.’ As if they hadn’t done alright without me. But it was all food for thought and, although I didn’t know it till now, it was just the food my illness needed: keeping my mind on everything but what ailed me.”

  As is often the case when an otherwise healthy person suffers a severe illness, Costello became more aware of his own good fortune and the needs of others. He explained his decision to found the Louis Costello Fund Foundation by saying, “I thought of the hundreds of children who didn’t have the right kind of a place to recuperate in. I thought of all the children who had bleak, drab walls to stare at…I saw the question of neglected diets, incorrect medication; I saw a total lack of diversion or entertainment; I saw…their inability, because of impoverished circumstances, for complete rest.” Abbott joined him in creating the foundation that would go on to build a large sanitarium for the treatment of rheumatic fever. In the segregated days of the 1940s, it made an amazing declaration: "All who come here have been created equal, and will be given equal privileges regardless of race, color or creed."

  Costello eventually recovered from his illness, and he credited the recovery in large part to his children, including “little Lou, Jr., the best hypo in the world with his gurgling laughter and struggle to say anything that sounded like a word.” Tragically, it was just as he recovered that he suffered another major blow, and this time it was one that nearly broke him. He later told the story of that dreadful day:

  “The afternoon I went to final rehearsal, Ann gave me a present from Lou Jr. It was a gold identification bracelet. I put it on my wrist and it has never been off since that time. Kissing Ann goodbye, I said. ‘Have Lou listen to the broadcast and see if he recognizes my voice.’ Then I left my home feeling that I was a mighty lucky man. At the broadcasting station, Bud and I were in the midst of rehearsing a comedy routine when I was called to the telephone…I was told that my baby son was dead. He had fallen into the swimming pool and drowned.

  “I left the rehearsal in a daze and drove home. All the time I was thinking, ‘It’s impossible.’ Only two hours ago the boy and I had been romping on the floor together. Now they said he was dead. I told myself, ‘It can’t be true. There is some mistake.’ But when I arrived home, Ann in tears told me what had happened. I knew then that it was all too true – our son was dead. After comforting my wife the best I could, I went back to the broadcasting station to do my radio show that night. Not because I was following the tradition of show business that ‘the show must go on.’ No, indeed. I wanted to do the radio show so that my voice would go out into the air, with the hope that Lou, Jr., might hear it wherever he was.”

  For most of the show, it seemed that nothing was wrong, except that Costello was a bit more animated than usual, but as the two were about to sign off, he could go no further. It seemed almost that the knowledge that he would soon have to leave the make-believe world for real life was too much for him. He slowly collapsed on a chair, as Abbott gently took the microphone and stepped forward. The audience listening on the radio then heard the horrific story of what had happened just hours earlier, and the studio audience fell silent, with a few women quietly reaching for their handkerchiefs as the microphone switched off.

  Chapter 5: A Grief Shared

  “I personally think that out of the misfortunes and sorrows which come to people two things can happen. The people can become bitter, thus ruining their lives, or they can gain an understanding of, and compassion for, other human beings…I am very grateful for this, as I am thankful that I was given the talent to make people laugh. Whenever I play in a picture or on television, I think that maybe someone whose heart is filled with sorrow will see me. If even for a few moments I can make people forget their troubles, I feel that my life is worthwhile.” - Lou Costello

  It wouldn’t have been a surprise for Costello to retire to his home for a l
engthy mourning period, and he later admitted he was tempted to do just that: “I asked myself, ‘Why did this have to happen to me?’ This time I confess I found it difficult to keep my thoughts upon counting my blessings. The baby was constantly on my mind. Every little boy that I saw reminded me of the many things I had planned to do for my son. There was sadness in my heart. How I managed to be a funny man in pictures and on the radio, I will never know.” However, World War II was at its height, and there was both a sense of shared grief and shared responsibility across the nation. After all, there were many other fathers living with sons who were missing or dead, and while Costello’s work might not be in a munitions factory, the duo’s funny routines gave those kinds of workers a chance to decompress after a long day, which helped them continue to do their jobs in the coming days.

  One of the first things Costello did was rename his foundation the Lou Costello Junior Foundation Fund, and instead of avoiding the pain that seeing other children might cause, he threw himself headlong into it by regularly joining Abbott on visits to the sanitarium. While Abbott was typically more reserved and focused on the financial management of the organization, Costello was all about the kids themselves. Manager Felix Gomez told one reporter, "Costello is worshipped by the kids. His temperament is just suited for them. He seems to have as good a time as they when he is with them. He gets out on the field and plays ball with them, goes on the merry-go-round with them, pushes them in the swings, holds them in his arms, rubs noses with them. The truth is that they never regard him as their benefactor. They look on him more as a good-natured, playful big brother."