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"Frank Sinatra, the Man
and his Music"
In 1950, I migrated from my small
hometown radio station. KGBC. in Galveston, where I was also doing
national big band remotes, to afternoon drive at KLAC in Hollywood, It
was like going from Pop Warner to the Patriots. Don Fedderson then the
GM of KLAC had heard me and summoned me to Hollywood where he bestowed
two hours of Al Jarvis’s radio show on me. Jarvis was moving to
television and I was too green to realize the enormity of my luck.
Worthier jocks in L.A. had hungered for this gig and here was I, a
novice from Texas, doing afternoons like I belonged.
It was then that I first met Frank Sinatra. In those days, jocks chose
their own music, and I admired Frank greatly, so I heavily rotated the
unforgettable songs he performed with Axel Stordahl. Frank learned about
it and contacted me as a prelude to what soon became frequent coffee and
pie sessions at Coffee Dan’s on Vine.
He had been fired from MGM by Louis B Mayer because he had scandalized
the nation a few years prior by walking out on his wife, Nancy , and
taking up with Ava Gardner. Frank told me that Mayer had not paid him
his salary checks, but instead sent the money to Nancy. Now, he was not
seeing Ava any more and was literally down and out, a Hollywood leper. I
saw him often from January till April of that year. In January of ‘51, I
did not fare much better as I was drafted into the Army.
Back to Frank.
Totally broke by April, he gave up and left town to join a pal in New
Jersey who owned a place called the 500 Club. where he sang to get some
money coming in. For a few bucks, you could nurse a Coke and listen to
Frank sing all evening.
Impossible to keep down, within a few years he had scored an Academy
Award and starred in his own network television show. Often on the road
during the ensuing years, he sent me passes to his concerts, including
his 1967 Detroit concert when I was at WXYZ. In that show, he never sang
better.
Fast forward to the mid 70’s, a memory that stands out, took place at
NBC in Burbank. He invited me to join him backstage at the dress
rehearsal for the first of his television series titled “Frank Sinatra,
The Man and His Music.” The dress rehearsal was to take place
immediately prior to the actual air performance. Naturally my wife,
Carol, went with me.
It was on a searing Burbank afternoon when we arrived at NBC armed with
a backstage pass. On the way in, we drove past a long line of flashily
dressed men and women, NBC brass and clients, waiting in the withering
sun to go in and watch Frank’s regular show performance.
Flashing the pass, we were ushered through two towering doors that led
into the back stage area.
Once through the doors, it was good to see a familiar, face. Ed McMahon
was leaning against the wall casually surveying a scene that included
the Don Costa Orchestra and the Fifth Dimension who were huddled in a
corner rehearsing a number in soft voices Ed was the announcer for that
show.
I asked Ed where Frank was and he motioned to the dressing room where
Sinatra would await word from Costa that the band was ready. Right now,
they were noodling scales, warming up.
It was all small talk while he kept a vigilant eye on the dressing room
door. Then mid-sentence, he froze when he saw Frank emerge. A
palpable energy surged through the place. The band stopped abruptly and
the Fifth Dimension people looked toward Frank, their faces lit up in
anticipation.
Only Frank, now in his element, was relaxed. He spied us and walked over
to greet me and then hugged Carol. They knew each other from Miami where
Frank had made a series of “Tony Rome” movies and where Carol was the
Administrative Assistant to her dad, Ben Chapman, who ran the Flipper
studio, occasionally leased out for such project as Frank’s. So, it was
old home week for a few seconds, then Frank abruptly put on his game
face and strode toward the stage.
On the way, he spied Florence the gorgeous lady from the Fifth Dimension
and swept her up in an embrace. “Hey baby,” he exclaimed, “You want to
go with me?” Her face incandesced, and she screamed, ”Yeah!.”
McMahon had, by now, walked into the announce booth and the show began.
What happened over the next thirty minutes is a blur. I do recall
that he led off with the Nelson Riddle arrangement of “I’ve Got You
Under My Skin.” Frank had imported Milt Berhardt, the trombone virtuoso,
to play the now immortal bridge almost note for note. Frank sang a slow
soulful “One for the Road” and several other vintage Sinatra songs. But
soon the show was over and he ran down the stage steps two at a time,
his blue eyes lustrous with joy.
Now , his manager announced that he was ready to bring in the NBC brass,
their wives and the Budweiser distributors and families who had come in
from all over the country. to see the show. It was here that Frank
shocked his handlers.
“I can’t do it any better,” announced Frank.“ Freeze it. Run with the
dress rehearsal.”
His manager was apoplectic. “But Frank” He stammered, You can’t do
this.”
“Who says?” says Frank.
“But the NBC brass and the sponsors and their families,.” He protested.
“They’ve been waiting outside in the sun for hours. This is a terrible
thing to do.”
But Frank did it.
That settled, a handler walked up to escort him to a boom mike where he
would do some radio promos. “It will just take a minute, Mr Sinatra,
They have to rewind.”
They’re not ready?” asked Frank. He stepped away, leaving the promos
undone.
Airily dismissive, he smiled and waved to me and Carol, then walked over
to Florence, scooped her up and walked off with her on his arm through
the massive doors to his limo.
You might ask, were the NBC brass and the Budweiser clients so outraged
that they cancelled his next two Budweiser “Man” shows? The ratings came
out and they were whoppers. The next two shows were picked up.
Previously ...
"How KYW's "Martin and Howard"
Saved the Beatles concert in Cleveland"
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