Greek goddess of song dies

A tribute to a goddess of song.

 From The New Hampshire Union Leader
By JOHN CLAYTON
New Hampshire Union Leader Staff
January 28, 2008

PERHAPS IF BETTY GEORGE had died at an earlier age, her obituary might have been front-page news here in Manchester. Alas, she died back in November in her adopted home town of Albany, N.Y., and her passing - at age 81 - only came to light locally when she was buried at the Pine Grove Cemetery.

Such a fate would have been unthinkable in 1945. Back then, Betty George was front-page news in Manchester. She was a stunning beauty and a gifted vocalist, and from the moment she took the stage for the first time - it was for an operetta with the Central High Maskers at the Practical Arts Auditorium - anyone with eyes and ears knew that stardom lay in her future. And maybe it was small-town stuff when her classmates at Central voted her the best-looking girl in the class of '43, but it was another thing altogether when the most famous newspaper columnist in America called her "one of the 10 most beautiful women alive." 

That columnist was named Walter Winchell. I'm getting ahead of myself, however, because if Betty George was going to make it in show biz - let alone come to the attention of Walter Winchell - she had to pay her dues. She started paying those dues as soon as she got out of Central. Just eighteen months after her graduation, Manchester Evening Leader readers discovered that Betty had already landed a premier gig as a soloist for Glen Gray and his Casa Loma Orchestra - for you young 'uns, that was a very big deal - but there was a bigger gig just ahead.

"After studying Spanish," The Leader noted, "Betty will accept a new six-month contract with Xavier Cugat, who is under contract to the Metro-Goldwyn Mayer studio, and she will appear at the Waldorf Astoria in New York and at the Frolics in Miami Beach."

All of this came to light when Betty was home visiting her folks. Thomas and Angelia George lived in a tenement at 293 Bell St. - Greek was still the language of choice in their home - and in spite of the excitement that lay in store for her, Betty wanted to talk about the honor of entertaining wounded servicemen.

"The boys were so appreciative," she told The Leader. "We were in the hospitals where they were treating amputation cases and when you see those young boys, so cheerful, you wonder what you have to gripe about."

Betty was never one to gripe. Then again, it's hard to gripe when you're living your dream. By 1948, she had her first role on Broadway. She was cast in the role of Officer Blandings in a play called "Heaven on Earth." The musical ran for all of 12 shows - perhaps Betty did have something to gripe about - but that meant she was available when Milton Berle came calling. Her beauty, timing and sense of humor made her a perfect counterpoint for Uncle Miltie, but her singing was still wowing critics as well. Here's what critic Robert Dana wrote after one of her shows with Berle at the Latin Quarter in New York: "When you hear Betty George sing 'Let There Be Love,' you will agree that there couldn't be a more influential spokesman for a subject of such importance," he noted. "And I daresay every man in the quarter will relish the beautiful brunette's handling of I Wanna Get Married.'"

Betty would remain a part of Milton Berle's repertory company for 16 years, but when Broadway beckoned, she was free to respond. Thus, there were subsequent roles in "As the Girls Go" - that was good for a 14-month run - and a musical called "Ankles Aweigh." "That was a pretty good part for her," said David Allan, who came to know Betty after she retired from the stage and made her home in Albany. "Walter Winchell did a lot to keep the show alive - he even called her 'The Greek Goddess of Song' in his column - and it was just a couple of years ago that they re-issued the original cast recording. "Betty has a big song on the CD," he added. "It's called 'Headin' for the Bottom Blues.' I picked up a copy for her, and she was thrilled to hear it after so many years."

It would take years to recount all of the Betty George stories I've heard in the last week - some bawdy, all hilarious - but as a measure of her personal charm and her circle of friends, consider some of the names of the people who populate those stories. There's Frank Sinatra and Tony Bennett, Burl Ives and Peggy Lee, Al Hirt and Buddy Hackett and Sergio Franchi and then there was her personal favorite, Liberace, and I couldn't recite that list of names if not for Betty's friends in Albany who still mourn her passing. Come the 1970s, Betty thought she was ending her show-biz career when she moved to Albany to be near her sister, Christine (George) Niles, but her radiant presence would not allow it.

"I had a morning television show in Albany and when someone introduced me to Betty, I heard the word 'Broadway,'" David Allan explained, "so I had her on the show as a guest. She was so funny and so forthright and so charming, and when she came, she brought her little dog named Moo. "It was one of those electric moments," he said. "The phones just lit up. People wanted them back, Betty and Moo, and over time the two of them became major celebrities in the area." 

Inexplicable? Not really. Have you ever tried to explain the allure and charm of the old "Uncle Gus Show" on WMUR-TV? The audience simply knows who to love without conditions, and that was the case with Betty. And Moo, too.

In the last few years, as Betty's time drew near, her circle of friends grew tighter. Since she never married - there were many, many proposals, mind you - Betty decided that her funeral would do double duty. She would be buried in a wedding gown and a veil made especially for the occasion. Moo's ashes would join her in the casket.

Her friends honored her wishes. After she was waked in Albany, those friends - Bernice Shingles and Donna Hausmann foremost among them - accompanied her body to Manchester where Betty was interred in the family plot at Pine Grove, reunited once again with her mom and dad and her sister. The trip to Manchester is one that Betty made every single year since she left in 1943, because she never forgot where she came from. They'll never forget her in Albany. And I thought we should remember her here, as well.