My Secret Life with Sinatra, Part 2

Most memories are soft sculptures of our past, unless it’s such a horrendous memory that it won’t go away, one that’s hot-wired to our frontal lobes, ready to spew out, the acid reflux of our soul.

Then, there is nostalgia. It’s mostly about remembering the first time we were in love.

Nostalgia is a warm feeling, formless. and indefinable until we stimulate the memory of a good thing that happened.. Then it leaps out like some giggling spirit that we have somehow tickled into life, a joyous living presence.

It doesn’t take much tickling for me to relive some of the great times I have had, many of them resurrected in this series.

That giggling spirit is ever present, poised to leap out, especially, when I recall those priceless times with Frank Sinatra, which often happened by chance.

He had amazing friends, powerful ones who worshipped him and played key roles in his life, a president, crime figures whom he could never shake, and world class women, some of his best friends.

There was good guy multi-billionaire Herb Siegel about whom I wrote in this series, Frank sang at his and Ann’s wedding. Herb and Ann stood up for Frank and Ava when they married. Who can match that?

Yet, I doubt that any episode captured his spirit more graphically than the adventure I began to describe last week, when I, along with Carol, were his sole invitees backstage when Frank performed one of his “Frank Sinatra, a Man and His Music” television shows at NBC Burbank.

Last week, I described how Carol and I arrived amidst the controlled back stage bedlam as the minutes ticked down to Don Costa’s downbeat and Ed McMahon’s brisk opening show announcement, all aimed toward heralding Frank Sinatra’s take-over of their life for the next hour. Frank’s had a gravitational pull stronger than anyone else I ever knew.

A deafening silence fell over the back stage area. I looked to McMahon and mouthed, “What’s happening?”

He subtly motioned to me to look behind us. It was Frank sweeping out of his dressing room, smiling broadly, those blue eyes twinkling, and he was headed straight for Carol and me.

We turned and ran toward him, closing the distance between us. Carol had known him in Miami when he came to star in “Tony Rome” at her dad’s “Flipper” Studio.

During the “Tony Rome” shoot, acting as her Producer father’s Administrative Aide, she often dealt with Frank and the “Rome” company which had leased the studio.

Apparently she had done a good job. She got the first hug.

I had seen him alone several times in the past years, the most gripping being in Miami on the “:Tony Rome” set.

I had come to pick up Carol, marry her, and whisk her back to Detroit where Specs Howard and I were to begin our new radio show at WXYZ.

I happened on him in a corner on the set when he was on the phone, speaking heatedly with his wife, Mia Farrow, apparently dusting her off with finality, because she wouldn’t come join him in Miami during her production break on “A Dandy in Aspic,” a film she was shooting in London.

Realizing what was going on, I started to leave him to his call, but he had grabbed me by the arm, making me a reluctant witness to one of the seminal events in his life.

But, that sad event happened a couple of years ago. Frank was aglow at our Burbank reunion.

Mainly, he asked playfully about our marriage, how it was going, Realizing, that we were on a short tether, I started to give him short version review, when his sharp blue eyes lost focus, and he went into an alpha state that all good entertainers enter just before a performance.

I recognized what was happening, and cut it short, when his handler jumped in to clear the path for his entry on stage.

Frank smiled at us through a mental fog this time, and turned toward the stairs that led up a flight to the stage and his mark where he would stand when the theme hit the air.

He reached the foot of the stairs when he stopped to greet Florence, the darling cupcake of the Fifth Dimension, who just happened to be standing where he would have to pass her on his way to the stage.

Florence was grinning expectantly at Frank, and we saw why.

Frank, his fog momentarily lifted,. reached out, swept her up in his arms and almost shouted, “Hey baby! Do you want to go with me later?”

Florence exuberantly shouted, “Yeah!”

Frank had accomplished this transaction, barely breaking stride on his way to the stage.

I recall that he sang “I’ve” Got Your Under My Skin” and “One for the Road” I learned that most of the songs he sang were from his classic “Songs For Swingin’ Lovers” LP.

Time compressed for us, and soon Frank finished the show, and left the stage, obviously enraptured by his performance.

Carol and I walked toward him, but his attention was focused on his manager who had arrived at his side, smiling. The Manager’s s smile vanished by the time we arrived.

We heard Frank say, ”I can’t do better than this. We’re going with the dress rehearsal show.” apparently meaning that he would not do the actual show, intended for the NBC brass, Budweiser distributors. and their bejeweled wives, waiting in the sweltering line outside.

His manager was aghast. “Frank, these are important people who have been standing out in the boiling sun for an hour. You can’t do this.”

Frank’s tone hardened.. “Who says?”’

His Manager, subdued by Frank’s ominous tone, walked off to make the announcement out front, that Mr. Sinatra’s performance had been cancelled. I have often wondered how he framed that one.

Carol and I fell in silently with Frank when his handler asked him to walk to a microphone into which he would record a promo for radio and television.

The production man handling the mic, told Frank, “It will take just a minute, Mr. Sinatra. We have to rewind the tape.”

Frank, with an icy stare said, ”You mean the tape isn’t ready?” He walked away from the man like he wasn’t there.

We waited for him to come out of his funk, before thanking him and saying goodbye, but the ice melted as he walked over to Florence, and took her arm.

With Florence in tow, he walked to the huge doors, paused, turned, and waved goodbye to us.

We waved back, but he had already faded away as if the doors were a star gate,. One minute there, the next gone. Where? Frank’s galaxy, no doubt.

You may ask if this was the end of Frank’s relationship with NBC and Budweiser.

The ratings for his dress rehearsal show came out and scored big. Budweiser quickly re-upped for another show in the series.

The principal reason he got away with it was: He was right. The dress rehearsal was a dazzling show which could not have been improved upon, the greater truth.

Everyone falls silent before the truth.

I’m sensitive to the number of young people in the media now who, reading this, may not relate to this allegory about Frank. This is not really about him, but about the spirit that he symbolized, a warrior who gave no ground, and won when he knew he was right.

There is a disclaimer here. Do not try this at work unless you are damned good at what you do.

About nostalgia: I lean toward the future, but still cherish the past. Reliving warm memories is part of the secret of a good life.

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Betty Johnson is a living example of what I mean when I wrote that final line, “Reliving warm memories is part of the secret of a good life.”

She is my guest on www.SignOnRadio.com  Click “Listen Now.” The show airs from 1p-3p PST Wednesday March 5th.

She began as a sharecropper, a downtrodden life that festooned into a glorious career that covered every aspect of show business. Her pop records, including “The Little Blue Man, I Dreamed, That’s Happiness,” and others, have reached the top of the Charts a number of times. She starred in all the major nightclubs, played leading roles in musicals, starred in leading radio and television shows, was Jack Paar’s guest on his Tonight Show for four years. It goes on and on for this remarkable woman whose career, seemingly, is endless.

You will be joining her fans listening to my internet show in the U.S., Alaska, Australia, Brazil, Canada, The Caribbean, China, Denmark, England, France, Germany, India, Italy, Japan, Norway, Spain, Tunisia, The Netherlands, and all points.

I promise you: you will be the better for it when you hear her describe how she managed her lustrous life. She comes on at 2p.


Tomorrow is a mystery
Yesterday is history
Today is a gift
That’s why we call it the present…….Anonymous


Life is the every day living of it….Pierre in “War and Peace.”.