Que Será, Será

I admit to being saddened at the death, on May 13, of Doris Day. It is not that it was unexpected: back on April 3 of this year, my favorite radio station (Sirius Channel 73, the Forties Junction) celebrated her 97th birthday by playing her hits throughout the day. One is not surprised by death at age 97. Her death seems to be the final break with the Hollywood of a different era.

Even in my childhood I knew she could sing, because of her hit song Que Será, Será, which still played on the radio in the ‘60s (it was recorded in 1956). But for the most part, I thought of her as an actress. Pillow Talk, the light romantic comedy featuring Day and Rock Hudson, would be the first film title to come to mind when her name was mentioned. I was also aware that she had a television show in the late 60s and early 70s. (I was unaware at the time that she did the show to pay off debts accumulated by her third husband and the husband’s business partner.) Recently I saw the two movies she did with James Garner. I highly recommend Move Over, Darling, a 1963 re-make of the 1940 film My Favorite Wife. If you want to relax with an entertaining movie that doesn’t tax the brain, then a Doris Day romantic comedy is what you want.

I have yet to see the 1956 Hitchcock film The Man Who Knew Too Much, which features Jimmy Stewart and Doris Day. It is this movie that gave us the tune Que Será, Será. It is on my “to see” list. What could be wrong with this movie? It features three winners: Hitchcock, Stewart, and Day.

It has been my great pleasure, though, in recent years, to listen to Doris Day, the singer. Her breakthrough as a singer occurred in 1945, when she recorded, with Les Brown and his Band of Renown, Sentimental Journey. For all I know, Les Brown my have recorded that tune a million times, but there are two versions that stand out, one with the Ames Brothers, and one with Doris Day. When I hear the opening measures of Sentimental Journey on the radio, I have my fingers crossed that I will hear the lovely voice of Doris Day, and not the mellow voices of the Ed Ames and his brothers. I could listen to her sing My Dreams Are Getting Better All The Time, Day By Day, On Moonlight Bay, Till The End of Time, I Got The Sun In The Morning, and for that matter, the Manhattan telephone directory, all day. Her voice was as sweet and as smooth as any voice I’ve heard.

Her film image was that of a goody two-shoes. I once heard a comedian say that his stereo speakers stopped putting out after he played a Doris Day album. The ever-virginal image is hard to square with the fact that she was married four times and had a son by husband number one. The image, though, has a basis in reality. She was most likely not a prude, but she did turn down the role of Mrs. Robinson in the movie The Graduate because she found the script to be “vulgar and offensive”.

Every animal lover celebrates Doris Day for her commitment to animal welfare. She started at least two foundations devoted to the welfare of animals. Every year on her birthday, her hometown of Carmel, California, held a three-day celebration to raise funds for her animal foundation. She was such an animal lover that she was a vegetarian.

Her likes have been gone from Hollywood for many years, even decades. And now the original is also gone. Fortunately, we live in an age of technology: her music and her films will be with us forever.