More on Frank Sinatra

-First published in Flight Plan 12/12/1998

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THINKING ABOUT SINATRA

This is Frank Sinatra’s first birthday Somewhere Else. Now that he’s there, I’ll bet it suits him fine. He liked visiting places he hadn’t been to and learning, always finding out for himself, something new. For all his steadfastness, need for home and family and the immense joy and happiness familiar things gave him, Frank never lost his sense of adventure. A creature of habit, you bet. He liked things just so and wouldn’t settle for the shoddy or sub standard in any form, but ‘his way’ always included being open to discovery. He had what the French call "luxe d ‘esprit" [the luxury of the moment], in spades.

To the end, learning was part of his regimen. I never knew him not to be reading a book or recommending one to a friend. Frank knew my appetite for reading was as great as his and I have shelves of books he either recommended or sent as gifts. One Christmas a truck pulled up with 4 or 5 large cartons from FS, the single word on the card, "Enjoy!". Books, all books, history, geography, philosophy, the newest novels and photographic books and several old and rare editions by authors we both favored. Another year on my birthday he sent first editions of books by poets I admired, some I’d introduced him to. I have a typewritten copy [with pencil and inked corrections] of "The Summer Wind", signed by Frank and Johnny Mercer, with the inscription "We thought you’d like this." Johnny brought it around one day and said "Here, Kid, from The Chairman and the guy on the bench."

He didn’t stop reading when he took up painting, but his tastes moved from novels and politics to more thoughtful meditative tomes. I got him a translation of Michelangelo’s poetry that he loved, even committing a few lines to memory. This from a guy who didn’t like memorizing the lyrics to new songs. Not that he needed to. Everybody knows that Sinatra created and recreated more standards than any singer in the history of popular music. He didn’t have to worry about the fashions of the day in music, but he did. He concerned himself with the direction pop music was taking and reveled in the realization that his audiences in later years was a healthy mixture of all ages and musical persuasions.

When Frank found out I was putting together an exhaustive musical history of the songs of World War II, he called and said, "Don’t leave me out of it". I had just about all the permissions I needed but mentioned I was having trouble with certain 1940’s sides Frank had made for Columbia. A few days later David Kaprilic, head of Columbia at the time, called and asked how he could help. It opened up a dialog that gave me access to sides by Sinatra and all the other artists on the label I needed. A few years later when I was starting on the second set of the project Frank got in touch with David Sarong at RCA. Rocco Langinestra, that label’s president, called and pledged his support. No contracts, no hassles, no lawyers. I got complete cooperation. One day not long afterward a heavy bundle arrived at the house from Sinatra’s office, it included V Discs and air check tapes covering the whole of the forties. I was overwhelmed. When I called to thank him, he said "For these you need my permission, and you got it."

We shared a love of toys and gadgets, one of his prides was an elaborate train set that had all the tunnels, bridges, under and over passes, hills and valleys that the geography of his train rooms could occupy. When he found out I was into computers he got me a prototype of the Mac IIFX months before it was released to the media or general public. That year while I was touring in Germany I picked up a real miniature steam engine for one of his favorite trains and sent away for a wooden hand painted red caboose. "Jesus," David Janson told me, "He was so excited I thought you’d given him Boardwalk and Park Place."

Frank was crazy about his friends and loved to include us in his schemes and dreams. When he yelled "Come out and play," for me the answer was always yes. Whether it was salooning, a Chief Sinatra spaghetti dinner, a flight of fancy or a flight across the continent it was Frank and it would be fun. The only thing that keeps December 12, 1998 from being a complete bummer for those of us who loved Frank as the nicest, most considerate, courageous and dependable friend we ever had is the fact that we know he’s off on a new adventure. See you soon, Frank. In your case never soon enough. - Love, Rod.

-first published in Flight Plan 12/12/1998

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