There are still plenty of us around from the Silent (1928-1945) and Boomer (1946-1964) generations.  Growing up with old movies and multi-generational TV variety shows were part of our cultural foundation.  We easily remember personalities from decades before our birth.  I can safely say that we had more respect for what came before us than today’s generations.  As Cicero famously wrote: “To not know what happened before your birth is to forever remain a child.”

We knew of Rudolph Valentino, the silent movie heart-throb even though we never sat through one of his movies.  Bing Crosby was still singing during our youth.  Rudy Vallee, another popular “crooner” of the 1930s made movies into the 1960s (How to Succeed in Business Without Even Trying).  But until recently, I had never heard of the Jazz Age crooner Russ Columbo.  He has an amazing story.

Born Ruggiero Eugenio di Rodolfo Colombo in Camden, NJ, Columbo was a violin prodigy at age 12, a composer, a singer, as well as a radio and movie star before his life ended tragically at age 26.  He sold more records than his chief rival Bing Crosby.  He was romantically involved with actress Carole Lombard before she found Clark Gable.  Handsome, talented, and proud of his Italian roots – he kept his surname with a more Latin spelling.  His life was somewhat parallel to Italian-born silent screen star Valentino, who died of sepsis at 31 before talkies arrived.  Could Valentino have made the transition to talkies with his voice and accent?  Can’t say.  But American-born Columbo was a sure bet for more decades of stardom.

You can access Columbo’s talent on YouTube or Alexa.  He wrote and sang [I’m Just a] Prisoner of Love, a crooning classic.  Or see the 1929 Vitaphone clip of him with the Gus Arnheim orchestra on the violin.

His life ended abruptly in 1934 when he visited the home of a friend who had an antique gun collection.  His friend was handling an old Civil War cap & ball pistol when the gun discharged.  The ball ricocheted off some furniture and penetrated Columbo through the forehead. Rushed to the hospital, the doctors could not remove the ball from his brain.  He died that night, before a scheduled dinner with Carole Lombard.  But the story got even stranger.

Columbo’s mother Julia was not told of his death.  She had recently had a heart attack, so Columbo’s father and siblings felt the news would kill her too.  So, they pretended he was still alive…for the next 10 years!  Carole Lombard was part of the subterfuge until her own untimely death in the plane crash in 1942.

His mother was told that Russ was away in Europe on tour or too busy in New York doing radio shows.  To allay suspicion, they would play old recordings on a “radio” and send her letters from him each week.  Enclosed in the letters each month was a check for $398, supposedly from his profitable gigs but actually payments from his life insurance policy.  Her failing eyesight made the deception believable.  However, her husband Nicholas died in 1942, and we do not know how they explained Russ’s absence from the funeral of his own father.  Perhaps it was explained away by the war in Europe and Russ “entertaining the troops.”  Julia Colombo died in 1944 at age 78, none the wiser.

I found the report of her death in the September 1st 1944 edition of the NYTimes.   It was headlined “Family’s Tender Deceit of Ten Years Ends”.  Clearly, this was a devoted Italian American family.

For more about Russ Columbo visit www.russcolumbo.org, set up by admirer Damon Leigh.  Leigh believes Columbo deserves a star on Hollywood’s Walk of Fame for his career and contributions to entertainment. 

Had he lived, he surely would have earned that star. -JLM