Until Every One Comes Home… By Whitney Farmer – Un Pop Culture

September 28, 2011 Whitney Farmer 4 Comments

Whitney runs a rock music venue on the beach in L.A.. She has an M.B.A, and – after over eight hours on the phone with tech support – she has made friends with Jeremy and Royce in the Supervisors Unit of Verizon.

Late at night, the sound of distant explosions carries across the water and reaches into our dreams as we sleep in our new home. At first, I thought that the nearby military base was preparing for an imminent massive deployment. Soon after 9/11, I remember driving through Cahuenga Pass from Hollywood on my way home as the western sky lit up from an unannounced missile launch that made cars lock up on the freeway and then made the papers with an official apology the next day. Military spokespersons explained that a show of force sometimes requires a dress rehearsal. I tried to imagine what type experimental weapons were tied to the deep arrhythmic beats that make the nights growl now.  But then the regularity of the event every night at the same time made me think that it must be a part of some standard training before deployment. A few days ago, my mom told me that the sounds were in fact from the nightly fireworks display at Disneyland, the Magic Kingdom.

That one I didn’t expect.

Again, I was wrong. This time perhaps more spectacularly than my standard amount.

My mom and I began to discuss wars and rumors of wars, and wars from before my time.  When my mom first came to L.A. after running away from the University of Houston where she was majoring in Geology, she and her great friend Corkie became tellers for Amadeo Giannini’s previous Bank of Italy which had merged in L.A. a few years earlier and had become Bank of America.  She used to carry her lunch into the vault to eat because it was cooler.  This puzzled some bank regulators during a site inspection one day when she walked by them with a sack on her way to the vault, which she told them sweetly was “…never locked”.  At night, she and Corkie were volunteers for the USO.  It was during the Korean War, and her job was to lighten the hearts of soldiers before they were deployed.  Her duties included being beautiful and full of life, and dancing in amazing dresses that accentuated her 18 inch waist.  When she met my dad, her tailor bill was about $400. She agreed to marry him if he would pay it off.  Fifty-six years later, he is still paying.

Since she wasn’t yet 21, she had a designation of Junior Hostess. This was noted on her photo ID which contains an accidental red pen mark across part of my mom’s face given when the Hostess Chairman signed the document. It also contains a picture of my mom which everyone loves but her. Her reason is that she is wearing her least favorite dress, and she had so many stellar ones that she could have chosen instead.

As we talked, I imagined what it must have been like to spend chaste time in the company of such a bright light.  Still, everyone wants her in their lives in any capacity she chooses. The best jokes, the quickest prayers, the red-lipped smiles, and stories so lush that they should be spoken unabridged through the course of a night by the tribal fire and passed down through time. Plus, she could dance and still has the best legs in the history of the world.  The little sister who is world famous for this still uneasily views her as competition. None of the daughters has ever been able to fit into mom’s leopard print bathing suit.

In our talk about the USO, I realized that something in my present life could connect with the past: The Club.  It is a place where people can at least forget, but hopefully get some joy. And it is located just a few miles from the Bob Hope USO Center near LAX where lots of troops ship out. Why not let soldiers come to shows for free…?

I think I was only about halfway into the first sentence of my pitch to the owner when he said yes. I thought about what it would be like to say “Welcome Home!” or “See you soon!” or even “I’m so sorry for your loss…” and try to not have my voice break each time. Bob Hope hastily sent his extraordinary wife Dolores home after she sang “Silent Night” to troops in Vietnam and brought some to tears. He told the press that the last thing those guys needed was sentiment…What they needed was Raquel Welch.

The next day, I called the Bob Hope USO Center.  The idea was to allow military personnel with their IDs to come to shows without charge. They wouldn’t need to be in uniform – even though that looks extremely great – but I would be: Motorcycle boots w/ duct tape, cowboy boots, or sandals, etc. depending on the night.  I expected to hear a ‘no’ from them, or a description of a lengthy vetting process.  What I was told was ‘yes’ and to get them a flyer so that they can announce the service as soon as possible. I realized that – more than most – these people had no time to lose.

In 1943, war correspondent Quentin Reynolds stated, “Entertainment should be treated as an essential industry.” Entertainers have volunteered their time and lost their lives because they have an understanding of what it means to give a glimpse of home in times of war. The first entertainer to star in a full length talking movie, tireless volunteer Al Jolson agreed to do a film on behalf of the USO and died a few days later from exhaustion from his latest tour of sites in the Philippines. The idea that I can come alongside the legacies of Al Jolson and Mary Van Horn has stirred my heart.  I hope that this works.

Ten minutes after I got off the phone with the Bob Hope Center by LAX, I was sitting at In-N-Out Burger and reading news on my Droid. The L.A. Times announced that Dolores Hope, Bob Hope’s wife of 69 years, had died. She was 102.  I called the Center back, wondering if they knew, and they told me they had been notified a short time before I called. In the midst of everything, they took my call.

On Mary Van Horn’s Junior Hostess ID, it states that her status expires “when revoked”.  That means that she is still on their roster.

Good.

All hands on deck.

Once more into the breach.

Quote of the Blog, from Bob Hope: “If you haven’t got any charity in your heart, you have the worst kind of heart trouble.”