William S. Paley, the head of CBS Radio, took an interest in Crosby after hearing his record “I Surrender Dear” and wanted him signed immediately. After a background check, Paley’s aides explained that Crosby had a history of unreliability - he had been a heavy partier, and done time in jail for drunk driving. All this aside, Paley still wanted Crosby signed.

Crosby brought his lawyer to New York and negotiated a radio contract with CBS calling for a minimum $1,500 a week -- an outrageous price for 1931. Within a matter of weeks, Crosby was the hottest singing sensation on radio. He had a new style of popular singing that the critics called crooning. The style was easygoing and intimate, unlike the dominant style of the '20s that emphasized volume and masculinity.

Throughout the '30s and '40s Crosby's influence on popular singing was enormous. Most male singers who emerged during the period borrowed heavily from Crosby. The most famous imitator of all was Frank Sinatra.

Sinatra grew up with a picture of Crosby in his room, and in 1935 met his idol briefly backstage at a Newark club. They would not meet again for almost a decade, when Sinatra would be contending for Crosby's throne.

Sinatra decided early not merely to imitate Crosby, but to develop his own style. In a 1965 article, Sinatra explained: "When I started singing in the mid-1930s everybody was trying to copy the Crosby style -- the casual kind of raspy sound in the throat. Bing was on top, and a bunch of us ... were trying to break in. It occurred to me that maybe the world didn't need another Crosby. I decided to experiment a little and come up with something different." By 1942 when Sinatra broke away from the Tommy Dorsey Band to start a solo career, he had developed a style totally unique, that drove women crazy.

The girls never swooned and screamed when Crosby sang, as Sinatra had a frailty, innocence and vulnerability that evoked the passions of the young females. Some older listeners, however, rejected Sinatra's gentle sighing, moaning and mooing as not real singing. Crosby took Sinatra more seriously, complaining: "Frank Sinatra is the kind of singer who comes along once in a lifetime -- but why did it have to be my lifetime!"

So the battle began -- the Swooner vs. the Crooner -- and the radio would be the battlefield. Crosby launched the attack saying, "Frankie weighed seven pounds at birth and has been losing ever since. When he went to school he didn't dare turn sideways for fear the teacher would mark him absent." Asked if Frank could be one of his boys, Bing replied, "Naw! Mine are all living." Sinatra counterattacked by reminding folks of Crosby's receding hairline, his colourblindness, gaudy clothes, and his spread around the middle. The feud climaxed when an angry female fan of Bing's plunged an icepick into a loyal Sinatra worshiper. After that, the two stars began to cool it.

The years that followed the feud saw Sinatra's career take a sudden nosedive beginning about 1947. In the early '50s he had neither a recording nor a movie contract. He then proceeded to make one of the most remarkable comebacks in show business history. Meanwhile, Crosby's career continued steady throughout the '40s and early '50s, and then began a decline brought on by age and rock 'n' roll.

Crosby and Sinatra were similar in that both achieved success as singers even though they were not formally trained as singers. Neither could read music. Each became successful movie stars and radio personalities as well. But the differences are more interesting.

Crosby was casual and unpretentious -- almost self-deprecating. Sinatra was intense, rowdy, with little humility. Although Crosby may have sold more records during his lifetime, Sinatra became the better singer as Sinatra would have settled for nothing less. Crosby, on the other hand, preferred spending his time playing golf or fishing. He practiced as little as possible and became known as "one-take Crosby."

There are many who loved Sinatra's singing but who were put off by his numerous brawls, divorces and questionable political, business and social liaisons. Nevertheless, his way with a song probably reflects the extremes of his life. As he admitted in a 1963 interview: "Being an 18-carat manic depressive, and having lived a life of violent emotional contradictions, I have an over acute capacity for sadness as well as elations .... Whatever else has been said about me personally is unimportant. When I sing, I believe, I'm honest ...."