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From the studio

The Hundred-Year Habit: Bob Hope Got a Massage Every Day

October 5, 2026 · about 5 minutes

Bob Hope had a massage every day for most of his working life — at home in Toluca Lake, on tour, in whatever city his little book of masseurs said he was in. He lived to a hundred. The habit itself is a true story, and it is a good one.

Full time at the studio at 3589 E Gulf to Lake Hwy, Inverness, inside Deb's Touch of Paradise Massage. Florida license MA78217.

The man behind the appointment

His name at birth was Leslie Townes Hope. He was born May 29, 1903, in Eltham, Kent, England, and his family moved to Cleveland, Ohio, when he was a small boy. He became Bob Hope: vaudeville, radio, movies, television, the Road pictures with Bing Crosby, and more turns hosting the Academy Awards than anyone in history.

He also spent about fifty years entertaining American troops — fifty-seven USO tours between 1941 and 1991, from his first show at March Field in California to Christmas shows in Berlin, Korea and Vietnam. In 1997, Congress made him the first honorary veteran in American history. He was never in the military. He just kept showing up, and the service members kept laughing.

And he kept working. Into his nineties he was still booked a year in advance. When he died on July 27, 2003, it was of complications from pneumonia at his home in Toluca Lake. He was a hundred years old — fifty-nine days past his hundredth birthday.

Every day: the massage

Here he is describing the arrangement himself, in a Saturday Evening Post interview from 1984, when he was eighty-one:

I have masseurs. I used to have my own masseur with me, a young Mexican fella who was awfully good. And then he walked across Ventura here, and a car hit him and smashed him all up. He lived for a couple of years and then he died. Since then I've had masseurs staked out in every city in the country. When we get to Cincinnati, I just turn to Cincinnati in my book and I call a masseur.

— Bob Hope, interviewed in the Saturday Evening Post, May 1984

So the daily massage was real, and it went with him. That same year he told reporters that he got a massage in the evening, hung from gymnastic rings ninety seconds at a time to stretch, and saw a doctor at the first sign of any problem. The year after that, 1985, the Los Angeles Times described his day the same way: nine holes of golf on the course next door, “always a daily massage from a live-in masseur,” and a walk around the grounds with the dogs before bed.

The massage was not the whole routine. It was one spoke of a wheel — and here is the wheel, in his own words:

A week like his, by his own account Seven days, four habits, as Bob Hope described them in 1984: a massage every day, golf every day he could make it, a walk every night with the dogs, and four solid laughs a day. A week like his — by his own account 1984 interviews and press Massage Every day Golf When he could The walk Every night Laughs Four a day The routine, in his own words from 1984.
Massage every day: “masseurs staked out in every city in the country.” Golf every day he could make it: “If I can make it, absolutely. Every day.” The nightly walk: “three or four times around, which is a little over a mile.” And “four solid laughs a day” as great therapy. All his own words from 1984.

Notice what is in that wheel and what is not. Golf whenever he could make it, a nightly walk with the dogs, nothing after dinner, and four solid laughs a day. When the Post asked him how he stayed so healthy at eighty, his answer was one sentence: “I've been lucky, very lucky.” On his hundredth birthday, his family reported, he looked at the cake and said: “I'm so old, they've canceled my blood type.”

A photograph from a 1917 massage manual: a therapist's hand working a client's lower back and hip while the client lies face down.
Massage by hand is an old arrangement. This plate is from an American textbook on therapeutic massage, published 1917 — public-domain illustration.

The honest part

Now me, and the honest part: his hundred years were his own — good medical care, a strict routine, work he loved, and a full measure of luck, his word, not mine.

What I can tell you, after eighteen years of this work, is what a maintenance habit looks like in practice: a regular appointment where the places that knot up get worked on while they are still small, instead of becoming a project you bring me once a year when it has been a problem for months. That is the whole secret, such as it is. It is not magic. It is maintenance — you change the oil more often than you replace the engine.

What a maintenance habit looks like here

Here is what a maintenance habit looks like at my studio: a regular appointment that comes before anything becomes a project. The Swedish hour is unhurried, moderate pressure, whole body — the closest thing this work has to a tune-up. If a place has already become a project, that is the deep-tissue hour: slower and more deliberate, reaching the layer a relaxation session doesn't. In either session, you set the pressure, and it changes the moment you say so.

The rhythm is the point. Most of my maintenance clients settle into every two to four weeks; some come monthly. I'll tell you honestly when you don't need to come back for a while. I don't sell packages, so there is nothing in it for me to keep you in the calendar more than your body needs — and I'd always rather see you for maintenance than for repair.

You'll find me at the studio — 3589 E Gulf to Lake Hwy, Inverness, inside Deb's Touch of Paradise Massage — Tuesday through Saturday. That is where new clients start: it is a public place, and it is how we meet before anyone is in anyone's house. Once I have seen you at the studio, established clients can book me at home anywhere in Citrus County, on Mondays.

If you are not sure which session is yours, call me at (352) 388-1398 — two minutes on the phone beats a wrong booking. And if you're starting because someone you love has been carrying a decade of shoulders, bring them along — I'll be glad to meet them. Bob Hope kept the habit for the habit's sake; that is all I'm asking for, too.

The treatment room at Maureen's studio in Inverness: the massage table made up in charcoal linens with a folded sage-green blanket, the wicker lamp glowing and the flower wall art above it.
The room where the habit happens here — at the studio in Inverness, made up before you arrive.

Questions people ask me about this one

Did Bob Hope really get a massage every day?

Yes. Three separate published accounts describe it: his own interview with the Saturday Evening Post in 1984, that same year's UPI health-and-fitness report (“he gets a massage in the evening”), and a 1985 Los Angeles Times profile (“always has a daily massage from a live-in masseur”). And it went with him on tour — he kept a book of masseurs in every city.

Is a daily massage why Bob Hope lived to 100?

Nobody can say for sure. He had excellent medical care, a strict daily routine, work he loved, and a full measure of luck — his phrase, not mine. What is fair to say is that a daily massage was a steady part of that routine for most of his adult life.

What's the difference between a maintenance massage and deep tissue?

The Swedish hour is long, flowing strokes at moderate pressure over the whole body — the closest thing this work has to a tune-up. Deep tissue is slower and more deliberate, for a place that has become a project. In either session you set the pressure, and it changes the moment you say so.

How often should I come if I want a routine like this?

Most people settle into every two to four weeks, and some come monthly. It depends on what we find and what your body is doing. I'll tell you honestly when you can stretch the visits out — and I won't sell you a package to keep you in the calendar.