This I Believe

Warren, Fran

And now, This I Believe, the living philosophies of thoughtful men and women, presented in the hope they may strengthen your beliefs so that your life may be richer, fuller, happier. Here is Edward R. Murrow.
This I Believe. Fran Warren is a popular singer. She grew up in New York's crowded burrough of the Bronx. When she was eleven years old, she would recite poetry that she and a school chum, Barbara Bell, had written. They decided between them that Fran would become a famous singer and Barbara, a songwriter. Years later, "A Sunday Kind of Love" became Fran Warren's first hit song. It was written by Barbara Bell, now her personal manager. The road to success in the world of entertainment is much more winding and full of detours than those two girls could have
imagined when they were eleven. Cynicism and slickness are sometimes the line of least resistance. How has this young singer fared? Why didn't she turn back or follow some tempting-looking shortcut to the top? Listen now to Fran Warren's beliefs.
I suppose we’re all prone to the fault of pointing at ourselves and saying, See what I’ve done. But I’m going to commit that fault anyway, just for example's sake. It was only about six years ago that I was just another kid from the Bronx with a yen to sing. I had sung at school dances but nothing professional. And about the time I graduated from high school, I heard about a new band that had been organized and was looking for a girl singer. I’ll never forget that subway trip to Manhattan, which was my first, even though I was born and raised in New York. After
that audition, which scared me half to death, I landed my first professional singing job with Art Mooney. Later on, I sang with…oh, Charlie Barnett, Claude Thornhill.
One important thing that I learned very early in show business was that people are instinctively nice. With each band I learned something, because there was always someone who took the time and the trouble to show me where I was doing the wrong thing. Equally important were the people who saw and listened to me, and then came backstage or wrote to me afterwards. This is something that makes me very proud, and very humble at the same time. When I first broke into show business, I never thought the day would come when a total stranger would walk up to me and say, “Fran, we enjoyed your singing very much.”
Perhaps I can sum it all up by telling about two people who are very, very dear to me. I won’t embarrass them by giving away their names, but for years, wherever I have played an engagement in this country, these two girls have made it their business to be there. And many times I have wondered how they managed to find both the time and the money to be with me. But just like the Old Faithful Geyser of Yellowstone Park, they always pop up. I’d like to say thank you to them because through them, I feel I’m saying thanks to a lot of wonderful people.
You know, in meeting all these people from coast to coast, I’ve discovered another fact. It’s frightening in one sense to be in the public eye, even if it’s in a small way that I am. But so many, many people watch you and take
heart or are disheartened by what you say or do. I can only honestly hope that I never disappoint them because there are many times when I have been disappointed in myself. Many and many a time I’ve been depressed and about ready to throw in the sponge, but from literally out of nowhere, something would break for me and, well, I’d feel as if my career had just started all over again.
This I sincerely believe: that there is opportunity for anyone in this country. But to make that opportunity come alive, you must have faith; and a faith that is made up in equal parts of a faith in yourself, and faith in something bigger than yourself.
That was Fran Warren, a popular young singer, who has discovered that success is a very demanding master.