MEMORY LANE: In his autobiography, "Gracie: A Love Story" (1988) George BURNS writes tenderly about his wife and partner for 40 years, Gracie ALLEN, who was to become the most beloved "scatterbrain" in the history of show business. They were a team, both on and off the stage. Here are some excerpts from his book -- "When I met Gracie in 1923, she was a young woman living in NYC without a job. She had just quit a vaudeville act in NJ and heard I needed a partner. So she caught my act in Union City. After the last show her roommate brought Gracie backstage to meet me. She was just a tiny thing, barely five feet tall and hardly more than 100 pounds. She had long hair, with curls that spun down over her shoulders. Her skin was that Irish peach-bloom, and she was wearing just a touch of makeup. "Nattie," her roommate said (offstage everybody called me Nat or Nattie, since my real name was Nathan BIRNBAUM), "this is Grace Allen. I remember looking down at her and thinking, "What a pretty little girl she is. I hope she'll work with me... Gracie was born in San Francisco and grew up in a big, loving Irish family with three sisters and a brother. She made her maiden appearance on stage when she was three, performing an "Interpretive Irish Dance" at a church social. That was probably the first time she heard the warm sound of a laughing audience, and she fell in love with it. There was never any doubt in Gracie's mind that she was going to be in show business. Practically every day after school, she would go downtown and stroll from theater to theater, looking at the pictures in the lobby and dreaming of the day her picture would be there. Gracie was smart, had absolutely perfect manners and a wonderful sense of humor. But she was also Irish and could be very tough. She always demanded that I treat her like the lady she was... In one of our vaudeville routines I asked Gracie, "Did the maid ever drop you on your head when you were a baby?" "Don't be silly, George," she'd answer with a wave of her gloved hand, "We couldn't afford a maid. My mother had to do it." Few people know this, but Gracie did have a serious childhood accident. Her left arm and shoulder were scalded very badly by boiling tea. Her arm was terribly scarred, and she could never completely straighten it out. She was always embarrassed about that scar and wore only long-sleeved dresses and blouses or full-length glove. That arm bothered her all her life. One evening we were home reading scripts -- we'd been married for maybe 25 year then -- when Gracie put hers down and said, "You know, Nattie, the nicest thing you've ever done for me is that you never noticed I have a bad arm." "Oh, really?" I answered. "Which arm is the bad one?" Gracie loved kids, and kids loved Gracie. But we couldn't have children of our own. Finally we decided to adopt. Our first child was a tiny five-week-old with great big blue eyes. We named her Sandra Jean BURNS. Sandy was such a delight that we decided she should have a brother. Ronald Jon BURNS was a very sick two-month-old baby when Gracie first saw him at the orphanage. The other babies were chubby and healthy, but Gracie pick out Ronnie because he needed her most... Just as Gracie and I were becoming stars, vaudeville was dying. Fortunately, we had the perfect act for radio. Gracie's illogical logic clicked immediately. Women understood her, men thought they were married to her, and everybody knew someone just like her. After a few years on the air our show began attracting the biggest names in show business. The elegant James and Pamela MASON raised cats, so when they appeared on the show Gracie declared, "My husband is a cat fancier too." "Oh, really?" Pamela asked. "How many do you have?" "Just one," Gracie replied. "In this country we're only permitted one husband." Pamela persisted, "Well, what is your method of raising cats?" "Same as yours. Put both hands under their belly and lift." When we moved to television, Gracie continued to play the same role the audiences had grown to love... When I think of Gracie, I remember a little girl with more energy than anyone around her; a strong, vibrant, sometimes tough woman. But she had suffered her first heart attack in the early 1950s and over the next years she had other minor ones. Gracie kept working, but she talked about retiring... We filmed our final show on 4 June 1958. For the first few years of her retirement, Gracie was very happy. She was well enough to go shopping and visit with friends and play cards and spend time reading and redecorating the house. But after a heart attack in 1961, she couldn't go out at night as much. She just didn't have the energy. In early 1964 she started to get worse. One day when I knew she was having a particularly rough time, I bought her an expensive mink coat. "Look what I bought for you, Googie," I said... She started crying.... Finally she got out of bed and put on the coat. She looked lovely. She called our friends and told them, "I can't be dying. You know Nat. If I was dying, he never would have bought me this coat." One night in August, we were home alone, watching a tribute to President KENNEDY on television and Gracie was crying.... A little later, I heard her calling for me. She was having trouble breathing. When we got to the hospital, not much later, the doctor came and told me, "I'm sorry, George, Gracie's gone." He asked me if I wanted to see her. Of course I did. I wanted to talk to her for a few more minutes. I wanted to stand next to her onstage and hear the laughter of the audience. I wanted her to look up at me with her trusting eyes. I wanted to ask her just once more, "Gracie, how's your brother?" So I went into the room. She was lying there, and she looked so peaceful. I leaned over, and I kissed her and whispered, "I love you, Googie." For the first time in 40 years I was alone. I don't know of many couples who spent as much time together as we did. We'd get up together, go to the theater or studio together, come home together at night. We loved each other, we liked each other, and we respected each other."