When Mario Lanza first bounced into Britain, the publicity boys had a field day. "He's devoted to all his fans." they said. "Always meets them; always glad to talk to them." But I've been watching Lanza's progress during his British tour.
By his stand-off tactics Lanza has been giving a wonderful demonstration of how to lose fans and make enemies. He has one of the biggest fan followings of any star.
But, because of the way he's treating them, you'll soon be able to put that statement into the past tense.
His fan phobia began in London. Three thousand women waited three-quarters of an hour for him to emerge from the Albert Hall after his concert there. All they saw of him then was an unsmiling Lanza who refused to sign any autograph books.
In Sheffield, a local girl, who has been to see one of the singer's films 130 times, waited two hours to meet him.
She had a special reason. The girl, who has written once a week to Lanza for three years, wanted to give him a set of spoons in a box inscribed "M.L."
A nice gesture, a far-from-cheap gift. Lanza's return gesture? He refused to see her.
In Glasgow, Lanza persevered with his Garbo-like act. There, arriving two days early, he hardly spoke to a soul, stayed in his room watching TV and playing poker.
The press boys got a similar cold shoulder during the tour. Describing him as a "hibernating hedgehog." one local paper said: "The voice which emanates from his vocal mechanisms certainly has the qualities of gold. But the way he preserves it is not calculated to improve his rating in the popularity poll. "
Lanza may have slimmed a few pounds off his weight, but he should add a few stones of friendliness to his personality. Otherwise he could damage his career irreparably.
For, the way he's treating his fans, it looks as though the iron curtain he's lowering around himself is going to make a noise like the biggest clanger he's ever dropped in his life.
AND HE'S DROPPED PLENTY!
