HOPE MAKES HEAVEN A BETTER PLACE.

Byline: DENNIS McCARTHY 

You just know Bob's already told Jack Benny to get the old gang together for the biggest USO tour to hit heaven.

He's got Bing, Frank and Dean ready to sing to the troops who beat him up there, George and Gracie ready to make 'em laugh again.

The Duke and Count are getting the cats in the band together to back up a mile-long chorus line of beautiful women for the GIs to whistle at. It'll be just like old times.

Bob will strut on stage with that million-dollar grin, holding a 9-iron. And the place will go wild because nobody ever touched the heart of this country the way Bob Hope touched it.

We lost a legend when he died at 100 on Sunday. Heaven gained a class act.

A couple years ago, a few days before Christmas, I asked Dolores Hope what her husband most wanted for Christmas. What do you give a man who has everything?

When you've been married to him for almost 70 years, you know the answer. Dolores didn't hesitate.

``If he was able, he'd want to do one more show for the troops right now,'' she said. ``That's what he loved the most, replacing the fear and loneliness on their faces with laughs.

``For a few hours, he could make them forget where they were, and make them feel like they were home again.''

Time after time, in talking to GIs who had seen Hope's USO show - from World War II through Operation Desert Storm - that was the thing that always came through.

Leslie Townes Hope - who changed his name to Bob because it sounded a little chummier - had the magical power to transport lonely people home.

This funny man who was friend and confidant to some of the most popular, influential people of the 20th century could make a buck private feel like they were best buddies sharing a laugh.

Ernie Meylan of Granada Hills, a young Army private in World War II, said it best.

``You're 18, 5,000 from your loved ones at Christmas, the mail hasn't come in two weeks, and you're so very homesick,'' Meylan said.

``Then, out of nowhere, Bob Hope shows up, and it's like a shot in the arm, a visit from home.''

Who else but Bob Hope could walk into an orthopedic ward filled with GIs with broken bones and morale, and call out, ``At ease, men, don't get up.''

Hope would spend hours going from bed to bed, shaking hands and lifting morale - taking addresses and promising to call a loved one when he got back to the states. And he would, Dolores said.

``Whenever Bob got back from one of his tours, we'd sit for hours talking about the young men he had met, and how he had to call a mother or father, a young wife,'' she said.

Forty, 50 years later, they still get Christmas cards every year from the families of these GIs, who didn't forget.

``People always said Bob did so much for the GI,'' Dolores said. ``But they didn't realize what they did for him.''

And now he's gone, and I'm feeling kind of sorry for anyone under 40 who never got to see firsthand what made Bob Hope so special to this country.

Never sat in front of a black-and-white TV, surrounded by family at Christmas time, watching Bob and his USO tour make a special visit from home to some part of the world in harm's way.

Never saw the tears on the faces of homesick GIs at the end of the show as they all sang ``White Christmas.''

Never felt the tears on your own face watching it.

And now Bob's back with some old friends again, walking out on stage for the biggest USO tour to ever hit heaven.

Leaning on his 9-iron and saying, ``I wanna tell ya. ... ''

Dennis McCarthy, [phone]

dennis.mccarthy(at)dailynews.com

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Photo:

Bob Hope, shown in South Vietnam in this 1970 file photo, began performing for U.S. troops during World War II and kept at it through Operation Desert Storm. He died Sunday at 100.

Henri Huet/Associated Press