48 YEARS AFTER ‘BMBDS,’ MAXENE ANDREWS IS A SOLO

Her three automobiles, each displaying personalized license plates--ABT OC, BMBDS and BWBB--were parked in front of the house.

BMBDS, Maxene Andrews explained, refers to an old German-Yiddish song that she and her sisters--Patty and LaVerne--made famous almost half a century ago.

“Our success started with ‘Bei Mir Bist Du Schoen’ in 1937,” she recalled, “when the world first became aware of the Andrews Sisters. It means, I guess: ‘To me you’re beautiful.’ ”

A few years later, the trio was in full bloom, selling millions of records while entertaining troops at home and abroad during World War II.

In all, the singers collected 19 gold records. Among their other hits were such ditties as “Beer Barrel Polka,” “Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree,” “Rum and Coca-Cola” and “Pennsylvania Polka.”

It was indeed prime time for the Andrews Sisters, but the years ahead were far from upbeat.

Today, at 69, Maxene is on a comeback of sorts, having recently recorded her first solo album, produced by a Van Nuys-based firm, Bainbridge.

Titled “Maxene, an Andrews Sister,” the album includes a medley that sounds hauntingly familiar--as if recorded by the trio.

“It wasn’t done for that reason,” she said. “Certain songs should be done in harmony; they’re not complete otherwise.”

Her favorite selection is “I Suppose,” because “it’s more contemporary.”

Seated in the living room of the Encino home she has occupied for a decade, a two-pound Yorkshire terrier named Slippers in her lap, the singer talked about her early life and what led to her rejuvenated career.

Her marriage to former music publisher Lou Levy (who managed the sisters) ended in divorce in 1951 after Maxene bore a son and daughter, but, looking back, it was the war years that seemed to dominate her thoughts.

“We worked very hard over here,” she remembered, “at hospitals, camps--six shows a day and, between shows, the USO centers. We’d even go to factories and sing for--what were they called?--the ‘Rosie the Riveters.’ ”

There was that memorable day in Naples, Italy, in 1945, when the commanding officer asked the singers to make an important announcement to 5,000 or so “miserable” GIs destined for imminent duty in the South Pacific.

“We were putting on a show in like a dirigible hangar,” Andrews remembered, “and the fellas were all over--hanging onto rafters, everywhere. Patty was doing a skit at the time. I handed her a note and told her, ‘It’s from the CO. He insists that you read it.’ ”

After almost six weeks in North Africa and Italy, the young women had been targets of more than one joke fostered by fun-loving GIs, so they were wary, Andrews said. But this was different--the first official announcement that the war in Japan had ended.

“At first there was dead silence. Then Patty repeated the message. ‘This is really true,’ she told them, and then she started to cry. Suddenly there was a roar. They knew they would be going home, and they did.”

In 1967, LaVerne--the eldest of the three--died of cancer at age 54. For the next two years, Maxene and Patty fulfilled contracts working with a new singer, then Maxene left the business to teach at Tahoe Paradise College, a private school in the resort area.

“They hired me for a music class,” Andrews said with a laugh, “but they didn’t know I couldn’t read a note of music. They asked me what I wanted to teach and I said basic speech and drama.”

When she left after about two years, she had been elevated to the position of vice president of the college and dean of students-- impressive responsibilities, especially considering “I quit school at 13 to go on the road. All the schooling I got after that was by the seat of my pants.”

Then Bette Midler revived “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy” (BWBB on the plates), and suddenly Maxene and Patty were back in demand. Soon they were starring on Broadway in the musical “Over Here.”

When the show ended, the sisters parted company . . . bitterly. Yet the exact nature of their long-running feud remains a mystery. Both live in Encino but never speak to each other.

“In our younger years we were together all the time,” said Maxene, whose father was of Greek ancestry and mother Norwegian. “We were three different people. Basically we had nothing in common, except our love for each other and music. We never had the same boyfriends or same taste in clothes, but we were shackled to each other.

“Our husbands wanted to take different roads and our emotions pulled apart. Naturally, loyalties were with the husbands.

“The Broadway show lasted a year, then Patty said she wanted to work with her husband (Walter Weschler, the trio’s conductor-arranger).

“I thought I would never work again--I didn’t think I could work without Patty. I have no idea why she doesn’t speak to me.”

Her eyes welled up as she continued: “This (feud) is the biggest pain in my entire life. She actually is all I have left. I would do anything if I could bridge whatever the problem is.”

Contacted on the phone, Weschler and his wife declined to comment.

In 1979, Maxene began to consider a solo career and months later started working with a New York vocal coach. Finally, she cut a demo recording that formed the basis of her new album.

After staging her solo-act debut at Reno Sweeney’s in New York, she focused on concert performances for the next three years.

On Aug. 31, 1982, following a string of 11 concerts, Andrews suffered a near-fatal heart attack, then underwent quadruple bypass surgery. “The doctor said I would never sing again,” she recalled. “I couldn’t believe I was hearing what he said. I didn’t think a heart had anything to do with vocal cords.”

Five weeks later she was back on a Denver stage.

“I had a desire to continue singing,” she explained. “It’s the only thing I know how to do. Singing is my whole life.”

And her all-time favorite song?

The plates on the Rolls-Royce, parked in the driveway, provide a clue for those bright enough to decipher it--ABT OC.

For others, Andrews ended the suspense.

Smiling, she replied, “ ‘Apple Blossom Time,’ of course.”