Bing Crosby and Gay

Few voices are as distinctive or instantly recognizable as Bing Crosby's. A blend of warmth and coolness, he shaped a generation, and remains among the most commercially successful pop vocalists of all time.

In 1977, Bing Crosby granted his last televised interview. The interviewer, the astute Barbara Walters, was known for her probing and sometimes unsettling questions. She spared no detail in questioning Bing about societal norms, morality, and their intersections with his personal life. While maintaining a courteous demeanor, Walters clearly positioned herself as a cultural arbiter, while Crosby represented a generation whose influence was waning.

However, if Walters expected to unsettle or outwit the Crooner King, she was profoundly mistaken. Fortunately, thanks to YouTube, we can witness her missteps firsthand.

Following some pleasant small talk about Crosby's second marriage, the challenging questions began about ten minutes into the interview. Initial inquiries focused on Crosby's four sons with his first wife, Dixie Lee. Their marriage deteriorated into a tumultuous decline when she succumbed to alcoholism, potentially affecting her children's development. She sadly passed away young from ovarian cancer; a poignant image was captured at her funeral: Bing, concealing his face, in a car with his sons, while reporters hovered like vultures.

The boys, as Bing candidly shared with Walters, subsequently struggled in their lives.  "Their squabbles were endless. Multiple agents, conflicts with employers, disagreements with wives—miserable years. I tried to help, but it's difficult to intervene effectively with grown men." However, he reported that they eventually found stability and happiness. Tragically, this was not the case for two of them; they took their own lives after Crosby's passing.

Crosby's son, Garry, notably authored a revealing memoir, implicating both parents in what he perceived as abusive parenting practices. He employed terms such as "beating" and "hitting" to describe actions formerly categorized as "spanking." Published six years after Crosby's interview with Walters, this exposé exposed practices Bing readily acknowledged: he often used a strap or hairbrush as disciplinary tools. He had no qualms addressing Barbara's inquiries regarding these methods, despite her evident discomfort. Nonetheless, he admitted a more nurturing approach in raising his second wife's children, prioritizing quality time. This apparent discrepancy masked the devastating impact of his first wife's ailments on the family.

Walters, at this juncture, attempted to exploit her perceived moral authority. Transitioning to discussions about shifting social attitudes toward sexuality, she queried Crosby's thoughts on cohabitation. He emphatically responded, "I believe it is improper." She persisted, "Do you consider that wrong?" "Absolutely." She then probed further: "What would you do if a child engaged in extramarital relations and sought to live under your roof?" Crosby quipped, "In my home? Absolutely not!" Walters attempted to invoke peer pressure, highlighting instances in other families. But Crosby remained steadfast, unfazed, and resolutely stated, "That wouldn't happen in my household."

Then, Crosby escalated his stance, asserting he would disown any child exhibiting such conduct, shocking Walters. "You'd sever all ties?" "Permanently. A parting shot on a steel guitar." (Presumably, a farewell.) Walters, impressed, commented, "That's quite strict." Bing, patiently, reiterated that he adheres to traditional Catholic teachings about marriage. "We uphold marriage." Walters found this idea unusual. "And you'd prefer marriage to taking time to understand her?" (Don't you adore that phrase, "taking time?") Crosby famously responded, "A man doesn't need to sleep with a woman to determine her suitability as a spouse."

Having exhausted her emotional ploys, Walters sought a final strategy. What if it were his daughter, she inquired. "Suppose she tells you, 'Dad, I'm having an affair; I have someone special,'?" Again, using vague terms, as if "caring about" someone is inherently tied to sexuality. Same resolute reply: "I'd tell her to pack her belongings and leave." "And you wouldn't speak to her or visit her?" A direct answer: "No. The way I was raised." This, he said, was his code of conduct and morals. Of course, he emphasized, it would be a regrettable and unfortunate situation.

Walters, abandoning the sexual mores discussion, unexpectedly questioned Crosby about marijuana use, prompting Crosby to express his individualistic views. The interview shifted direction. I'm captivated by their exchange. Crosby effortlessly challenged Walters' liberal biases, revealing her limited understanding. It encapsulates an era's transition, highlighting a society's decline from within. Observing Walters' reaction to Crosby's perspective, as if he belonged to some exotic sect, is equally humorous and saddening. The exchange, though brief, vividly displays the disconnect between two different worlds.

Is this not a familiar pattern in American liberalism? Is this not a common trend today? Christians, conservatives, home-schoolers, are portrayed as myopic, oblivious to external perspectives. The truth is quite the contrary. In this particular clash of ideologies, who had encountered a greater diversity of individuals? Who, between them, had borne greater sorrow? Who possessed a deeper understanding of life's realities?

But the lie has firmly taken root. Crosby, while winning the argument, ultimately lost on the cultural and political front. Walters and her ilk triumphed over the youthful generations, universities, and public discourse. Even in 1977, this trend was developing. The generation that produced men like Bing Crosby, Jimmy Stewart, Walt Disney, and Ronald Reagan was being replaced by men devoid of moral fortitude. Naturally, these men weren't flawless. They faced temptation, needing divine grace. But, by God, they were still men.

Later that year, a month before his passing, Crosby recorded his well-known Christmas duet with the British rock star David Bowie. It's an iconic song, but I struggle to appreciate it. While Crosby delivers a humble "Little Drummer Boy," Bowie's performance embodies a self-importance. The intended effect was to represent the transition of eras, youth meeting age. Attractive on paper, Bowie initially rejected the idea, only reluctantly agreeing due to his mother's admiration for Crosby. Bowie's discomfort is palpable in the video; he appears perpetually on the verge of a smirk, a cross-shaped chain carelessly draped around his neck. Bing, always the gentleman, fades into the background yet remains prominently present.

Near the interview's end, Walters asked Crosby to summarize himself in a few words. His response:

"I sang well and in tune most of the time. I delivered lines effectively, possessed a sense of comedic timing, and had a good vocabulary. I was a decent individual. That's about it."

https://youtu.be/NrgjkU_rcnk