All The Things She Is—Doris Day

She suffers claustrophobia in elevators. “Especially in the Empire State Building.” She will not wear a red dress.

She does not smoke. She hates to make decisions, sleeps “like a rock” and rarely eats ketchup.

She was baptized Doris Kappelhoff. She sleeps in shortie nightgowns.

She loves baseball, drive-in movies and breakfast in bed. She is an inveterate gum-chewer.

She cannot stand the sound of a chalk scratching on a blackboard or the crunch of a bite into an apple. “It gives me goose-pimples.” She wears a size 12 dress and is very fond of hot dogs with chili and onions.

Her parents are of German extraction. As a little girl she was very popular with the boys. She hates cooking, doesn’t mind washing the dishes but is particularly proud of her skill as an ironer.

She has never seen a bullfight, “. . . and I never will!”

Her favorite color is bisque (a kind of light sandstone) which predominates in her home and her cars. She never gets seasick and puts no stock in the alleged benefits of matrimonial vacations. She married her agent, Marty Melcher, in 1951.

She claims her pet aversion is the telephone, but her husband says she is always on it. She likes long walks, all kinds of flowers, snow and French fried onions.

She doesn’t like eating alone.

She has at least ten favorite songs and has no desire to ever go hunting. “Not even fishing. I can’t stand the thought of killing anything.” She was born in a modest two-story brick home “in Cincinnati.

She hates mussels, still experiences stage fright and was named after Doris Kenyon, whom her mother greatly admired. She has a son named Terry from a former marriage.

She has never worn dental braces and, if riding in the car with someone, she doesn’t like the radio on, prefers to talk. She is five feet five and three-quarter inches tall.

Her taste in music ranges from hillbilly to opera. “I just love music, period.”

She has never been able to write a decent letter, and consequently hates it. “I just ramble on and never seem to really say anything.” She loves olives.

Her favorite meal is roast beef and baked potato. She has a bad memory for names, but not faces, has two French poodles and is firmly convinced that good taste is not the result of education. “There are well-educated people who haven’t the faintest idea what the words mean.”

She cannot abide birds in cages because she “feels sorry for them.” Her hair is blond, she is punctual in appointments and likes to wear Levis around the house.

She sucked her thumb when she was little.

She is righthanded and has never seen a track meet.

She has no superstitions.

Her father was an organist and piano, violin and voice teacher. She began dancing lessons early, and by the time she was 12 she was frolicking in a Fanchon and Marco stage show. She and her husband do not play cards, preferring informal get-togethers with their friends.

Her dancing aspirations were cut short by a nearly fatal automobile accident in Hamilton, Ohio, while she was on tour. She was badly hurt when the car in which she was riding hit a train and she spent fourteen months in and out of hospitals before a broken leg would mend and she could walk again.

She subscribes to no book clubs.

She has a passion for making things clean and is constantly fussing around the house. Her shoes are size 7.

Doris decided to save herself from over-whelming anguish and boredom by studying voice while waiting to mend after the automobile accident. She is deeply indebted to Grace Raine, her vocal coach in Cincinnati. It was Miss Raine who helped her get started.

She lives in a two-story Colonial home in Toluca Lake, two blocks from Warner Brothers, her studio.

Her natal surname means churchyard in German.

She doesn’t like the comic strips, although she adored them as a child.

She loves candy. Her eyes are blue and she is very good at spelling. “My son’s best subject at school.”

She doesn’t like caviar or arithmetic.

Her first singing engagement was an engagement with Barney Rapp, owner of a night club in Cincinnati, but he insisted that something had to be done about the name of Kappelhoff. Doris saw the point and was forthwith christened Doris Day by Rapp because of her rendition of “Day After Day.” She weighs 120 pounds.

She never liked school.

She dreams mostly about casual acquaintances, never her close friends, which puzzles her no end. She drinks only decaffeinated coffee.

Her favorite game as a little girl was Spin the Bottle. She is systematic and orderly in everything except her desk. “It’s always a mess. My husband goes crazy trying to sort out the bills and things.”

She is highly impulsive, drinks lots of milk, sodas and malts, and likes to go swimming in her pool at midnight or six in the morning.

She is currently addicted to toreador pants, enjoys ballroom dancing, particularly the fox-trot, and would like to learn golf and tennis. “But only if I could be good at them.”

She doesn’t care for garlic, flashy cars or “too much red in anything.” She wishes she could play the piano. She rarely goes to night clubs because she had to practically live in them while working with bands.

She loves to go shopping with her husband and likes to “pick his clothes.” She does not believe in fortunetellers or astrology but thinks “they are fun.” She is thoughtful, forthright and completely un-affected.

She has a vivid and dear memory of a certain street in Great Neck, Long Island, which she walked along during a visit to the late Buddy Clark. “I was walking by myself. It was covered with autumn leaves of a hundred colors and had a strange serene beauty. I don’t even remember its name, but I’ll never forget the incident.”

She plans to take up skiing, and believes that environment is infinitely more important than heredity. She likes all kinds of seafood except those that are “too fishy.”

She seldom gets a traffic ticket.

She prefers gold jewelry.

She and her husband agree on politics. She loves to go to the Farmers Market and eat enchiladas.

She once sang with Bob Crosby’s band. She no longer knits as a hobby, wishes she could speak French and German, and got her first big break with Les Brown, with whom she sang for three years, culminating with the big national hit recorded by Les and Doris—“Sentimental Journey.”

She has a disconcerting habit of “tuning out” in the middle of a conversation, resulting in her sudden, “I’m sorry. What was that you were saying?”

She used to have a quick temper bu has learned to curb it.

She is frightened by high altitudes.

Doris Day is very conscientious about her work and very critical about herself. She is fond of all kinds of cheese. She can never remember beyond the first two numbers of her car license.

She never makes a wager. “I’m a bad loser.”

She and her husband gave up Scrabble because it made her nervous. She is intense in everything she does. She likes her steaks charred rare.

She loves puttering around her garden, has made countless military and hospital tours.

She has no particular extravagance, no yen to sketch or paint and gives little thought to the past, always looking ahead to the things she is going to do tomorrow, next week and next year. She alternates between tub and shower.

She would like some day to visit Italy, France, Germany and Sweden. She considers herself very bad in business matters and makes it a point to stay out of them.

She has never eaten abalone.

She likes cats but cannot have them on account of her dogs. Her Columbia recordings are consistently among the bestsellers and her usual breakfast is eggs, bacon, thin toast, a large orange juice.

She has an uncommonly ready wit and would like to have more children. “But we haven’t been blessed.”

Doris Day avoids arguments but welcomes spirited discussions even if they are about politics or religion. She was appearing at New York’s Little Club when director Michael Curtiz discovered her for Warner Brothers.

She is an early riser, knows her Bible well and values most in her husband his kindness, consideration and honesty. “He is a wonderful father to my son.”

She is desperately trying to develop a taste for lox, loves bagels and cream cheese.

She likes hamburgers and popcorn, and when visiting San Francisco always makes it a point to take a ride in a cable car. When riding with her husband, if they were stopped for some minor traffic infraction, she used to argue with the policeman, but her husband solved that problem recently by immediately getting out of the car and meeting the officer out of earshot.

She hates to learn new things.

She is very sentimental about her son’s infant identification (hospital) beads and his first ring. She invariably finishes everything she undertakes and has a habit of reading three books at one time, which perpetually baffles her mate.

She is a “Dragnet” and “Mr. Peepers” fan and never misses a panel show if she can help it. She loves French antiques and annoys her husband because she likes to read while driving instead of enjoying the scenery.

Doris Day works hard and tirelessly, devoting many hours a day to her career and her home. She maintains a steady and boundless enthusiasm. “I am very grateful for the feeling of deep security that is in my heart.” 

THE END

—By JOSEPH HENRY STEELE

 

It is a quote. PHOTOPLAY MAGAZINE DECEMBER 1954