Somewhere in show biz heaven, Rudy Vallee must be sitting on a cloud, saxophone in one hand, megaphone in the other, musing in his nasal tenor voice about his long, remarkable life that began 100 years ago tomorrow.

Hubert Prior Vallee was born in Island Pond, Vt., on July 28, 1901, and died at his hillside Hollywood mansion on July 3, 1986, while watching television with his fourth wife, Eleanor. The show was the centennial celebration of the Statue of Liberty.

“I wish I could be there,” he said, before drawing his last breath. “You know I love a party.”

The University of Maine, where Vallee was enrolled for one year in 1921-1922, plans no parties this weekend to mark the centennial of arguably its most famous student, although the alumni magazine recently chronicled the crooner’s life in a feature titled, “He put UMaine on the map.”

Vallee’s star will rise again next year when the school’s alumni center is dedicated. Featured will be memorabilia from his pioneering show-business career, when he led his band, The Connecticut Yankees, and starred in radio, movies and television and on Broadway. His widow, Eleanor, whose book, “My Vagabond Lover,” describes their happy 37-year marriage, plans to donate one of his saxophones, an instrument he helped popularize in the ’20s when it was not yet in favor.

“He talked about Maine all the time,” she recalled Tuesday during a telephone interview. “He always said he got his auburn hair and musical talent from his Irish mother, who played the violin. And from his pharmacist father, who was French, he learned how to pinch the girls.”

Hubert, Eleanor Vallee explained, became Rudy during her future husband’s residence at UMaine’s Sigma Alpha Epsilon fraternity house, where he pinned photos of his favorite saxophonist, Rudy Wiedoft, onto his wall. One day a frat brother stepped out of the shower and yelled jokingly, “Hey, Rudy, throw me a towel.” The nickname stuck.

Enrolled at UMaine, Vallee honed his musical skills, reputedly performing his first paid gig at the new Bangor Opera House, even singing at a Veazie church. During this time, he heard “The Maine Stein Song” on the radio and was haunted by it for the remainder of his life. He recorded it after graduating from Yale University in 1927, a school to which he transferred because, according to Eleanor Vallee, he could earn his tuition by working at different jobs, unlike at Maine. It was at Yale that he popularized his hit record, “The Whiffenpoof Song.”

Bert Pratt of Bangor, who along with Dean Win Pullen helped organize Vallee’s memorable return to UMaine in October 1975, has researched Vallee’s life and believes his mark on the campus is indelible.

“He was the greatest showperson you ever met,” Pratt, former UMaine assistant director of admissions, recalled. “He had a miraculous life.”

Pratt recalls some early opposition to the “Stein Song,” which Vallee recorded when drinking in America was still illegal. He also said Vallee’s trademark megaphone, which the singer claimed he only used one year early in his career, helped amplify a voice that needed it at times.

Vallee was always good copy for gossip columnists, who feasted on his unbridled views on politics, marriage, even The Beatles (he was not a fan). Once he considered running for mayor of Los Angeles, and later was hurt when his plan to rename his Hollywood street “Rue de Vallee” got a frosty reception from his neighbors.

The showman must have been bemused by the mythology that swirled around him. Many have long believed he penned the “Stein Song.” In truth, it was written by Lincoln Colcord and Adelbert Wells Sprague, who based it on an old German march. He wasn’t born in Maine, as many believe; but after his death from the effects of throat cancer and stroke, he was laid to rest, not in Hollywood, but in the family plot at St. Hyacinth’s Cemetery in Westbrook.

Eleanor Vallee, in her book, takes aim at a few “myths” herself. She argues that he was a misunderstood man, more generous of heart than portrayed in the media, and never mean-spirited.

Scratchy recordings of the romantic tenor who set female hearts aflutter evoke an era when he sold millions of 78 rpm records with seemingly innocent titles like “Your Time is my Time” and “As Time Goes By.” A closer listen reveals the romantic side of Hubert Prior Vallee.

“Heigh ho, everybody,” he was fond of speaking into the microphone.

Heigh ho to you, too, Mr. Vallee. To paraphrase a fellow entertainer’s favorite exit theme: Maine thanks you for the memories.