Humble or Nothing

Arthur Godfrey, the one-man industry, is a proud, doting father to the "Little Godfreys" on his radio and TV shows. Before the mike and camera, he spoils them with praise; behind the scenes, he boxes their ears when they get too big for their britches.

Last spring, bedded in Massachusetts General Hospital after his celebrated hip operation, Godfrey watched over his flock by television, decided that one of his Little Godfreys--chunky, curly-haired Baritone Julius La Rosa, 23, an ex-bluejacket whose career he had launched two years ago--was getting a little cocky. He told CBS President Frank Stanton that Julius would get a good talking to. Fortnight ago, when Godfrey learned that La Rosa had flouted one of his rules by signing up with his own agent, he had a new report for the boss. "Arthur called me at home Saturday night," said Stanton, "and told me he was going to let Julius go. We decided that instead of having a press conference to announce it, the best way would be just to tell everyone over the air." Stanton added thoughtfully: "Maybe this was a mistake." If it was a mistake, it was a lulu.

A Special Quality. Last week, on his first morning show, Godfrey waited until the very end before pulling off history's most public firing.

Said he to his TV audience: "That was Julie's swan song with us. He goes now out on his own, as his own star, soon to be seen in his own program, and I know you wish him Godspeed same as I do. Bye-bye!" Godfrey's abrupt sacking of Crooner La Rosa, which was news to Julius, was also a Page One story to newspapers across the country.* It was quickly made even juicier by the added information that Bandleader Archie Bleyer, 44, a longtime Godfrey regular, had been fired the same day from the daytime and Wednesday shows, would work only eight weeks more on the Monday night Talent Scouts.

Two days later Godfrey told the press why he did it. "When I take on a new entertainer," he said, "I look for a special quality, kind of indefinable, but the nearest I can come is a form of humility. It has something to do with being lovable, likable and wholesome ... I go a little crazy over that quality." That's the way Julius had been, "a shy, bashful, scared-to-death kid . . ."

During the last year, as Godfrey told it, Julius began to change into an "obstreperous" boy. He eyed outside offers, lost interest in the ballet and tap-dancing exercises for the Godfrey cast. "Julius went completely berserk, haywire." His signing with an agent was "the straw that broke the camel's back."

As for Archie Bleyer, said Godfrey, all choked up: "I love that man. He's a gentleman." But Archie, too, had lost his humility. Bandleader Bleyer had spent part of a recent vacation by going out to Chicago for his own record company and cutting some songs with the star of a rival network--ABC's Don (Breakfast Club) McNeill. "It's like being married to a woman for 20 years," said Godfrey mournfully, "and then coming home and finding a cigar butt in the ashtray."

Isn't He Cute? Although Godfrey tossed in a slurring remark on his Wednesday night show ("I'm sure you have noticed through the years that those who are the great ones stay with me"), his two ex-great ones were careful to show no rancor. Bleyer kept his peace. La Rosa appealed to reporters as a mixed-up kid: "It was Mr. Godfrey who kept telling me I was humble and to stay that way . . . He kept harping on that humility thing . . . This guy--pardon me--Mr. Godfrey --Mr. Godfrey has one of the best shows on TV ... I was as close to him as I was to my father . . . My father used to hurt me sometimes when he'd hit me when I thought I shouldn't be hit, but I never stopped calling him daddy." Wearily, he sputtered, "I don't know what the hell is going on."

What was going on would do La Rosa no harm in his new solo career. His talent agency contract guarantees him at least $100,000 during the next year (with Godfrey last year, he made an estimated $35,000). Ed Sullivan's Toast of the Town television show snapped him up at $3,000 a guest performance. Mamie Eisenhower watched him rehearse for a role in Washington's Navy Relief Ball, afterward shook his hand, repeating again and again, "Isn't he cute? Isn't he cute?"

At week's end Godfrey was in a more mellow mood. He said he had intended to say a lot of nice things about Julius ("a charming rascal") on the swan-song show, but had only about eleven seconds to do it. But, said Godfrey firmly, he was "more proud of this boy" than of any of the youngsters he had made into stars. On that sweet note, the storm blew over, leaving La Rosa to cash in on a million dollars' worth of publicity and kind Father Godfrey to mull an ancient maxim: a doting parent generally deserves gratitude, sometimes gets it, but is only courting heartache if he demands it.

* In Chicago, William Irvin, radio-TV editor of the Sun-Times, was fired after 18 years on the radio beat for missing the La Rosa firing. "It was my day off," he said ruefully. "I took my son to the doctor and missed the Godfrey program."

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