Dear Readers,
Francis Albert Sinatra, born December 12, 1915 in Hoboken, New Jersey, may be gone but especially during December, his birthday month, the melody and memories linger on. Following are a few clips from my “Old Blue Eyes” file that I will share with you…
From “Frank Sinatra, my Father” by Nancy Sinatra (1985): “It was December 12, 1915. He was the son of Anthony Martin Sinatra, who had arrived as a child from Agrigento, Sicily, and Natalie Catherine Garavente from Genoa. They lived in Hoboken, New Jersey, a workingman’s town across the Hudson River from New York City.
It was a town of ethnic enclaves – Irish, Jewish, Italian – and ethnic frictions. After arriving from Sicily with his wife and children, Dad’s grandfather had worked at the American Pencil Company for eleven dollars a week.
My dad told me about the consequences. “He inhaled that dust for seventeen years and it wrecked his lungs. He couldn’t do any better because he had nobody to teach him English. I remember my mother telling my father: “if you don’t bring him here to live with us, I’m going to take the boy and go.”
My dad’s father started out as an apprentice in a cobbler’s shop. He was known in his neighborhood, where everyone had a nickname, as “Tony the shoemaker.” He took up prizefighting and, because it was better in those days to have an Irish name than an Italian one (the Irish politicians controlled Hoboken), he adopted his manager’s name and became known as “Marty O’Brien.”
Marty did some work as an extra in the very early movies (nearby Fort Lee, New Jersey, was an early movie-making center). He labored as a boilermaker in a shipyard and he ran a saloon, but most of his working years were with the Hoboken Fire Department. He was a good fireman, always first to arrive at the fires and he rose through the ranks to captain. He did the cooking at the firehouse.”
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This is from New Jersey’s Italian Tribune, July 6, 1979. “Sinatra claims ‘If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing.’ The crowd goes wild when then 64-year old crooner belts out ‘You Make Me Feel So Young’. A roar of approval goes over the audience. Sinatra loves it. He smiles between the lyrics. When the ‘king’ that came out of Hoboken sang “I’ve Got the World on a String’ for more than 6,000 at the Garden State Arts Center, you can believe him.
There was hardly a dry eye in the place. His wasn’t kiddie crowd, or a center filled with senior citizens. It was simply a doting crowd under the Sinatra Syndrome. You can hear the critics say, ‘His voice isn’t what it used to be’, but nobody cares. When he walked out on the stage he had people loving their hero, and he didn’t disappoint. Sinatra is one of the few stars who needs no fanfare when he goes on stage. He just walks out and the sun shines. If it’s night, look for the moon.
As a veteran of the center said, ‘He has charisma. He could just recite the dictionary and it would be enough.’ Between songs he tells about ‘funky shoes’ and ‘funny suits.’ He makes himself the butt of his jokes and the audience eats it up. He has become a handsome man. Age, and a bit more flesh becomes him. His black tuxedo is immaculate. A critic wrote of his performance, ‘He is not with the times.
He is the times.’ Entertainers come and entertainers go. Sinatra is ageless. He admits, “I’ve come a long way from the Rustic Cabin in Bergen county but loved every step of it.’ Sinatra’s vocal range is evident with the rendition of his popular ballads and old ‘saloon’ songs. As he pulls up to a bar stool he begins his ‘boy meets girl, boy loses girl routine.’ Supporting him is an impeccable orchestra. The ‘king’ always demands the best and won’t stint on his backup crew.
He creates his own style for each song through his sensitivity, pouring his heart and soul into each creation. He is never constructed by the usual underwritten rules. The ‘king’ has his own rules. Sinatra’s two day engagement at the Arts center benefits its Cultural Fund. The price of tickets is high, but the box office had to turn away many. After singing ‘September of May Years,’ Sinatra reminisced with the crowd. Naturally that led to his song about the ‘Very Good Years.’ He finished with ‘My Way’ and nobody could dispute that’s the way he did this show.”
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Thanks to the tabloids, the devil side of Sinatra is well known to the public, however, the angel side of Sinatra is well known to God. I have that information direct from his representative here on earth, which I quote from Sinatra and the Lost Art of Livin’ “The Way You Wear Your Hat”, by Bill Zehne. When Frank’s mother, Dolly, visited Pope Paul VI in Rome, the pontiff said in Italian, “Your son is very close to God.”
She asked him what he meant and he replied “because he does God’s work and does not talk about it.” An the Pope was “right on,” through the years Frank’s deeds were anonymous ones: hospital bills were mysteriously paid, nuns found new school buses in their yards, impossible negotiations were suddenly resolved, underdogs got jobs, has-been got second chances, friends of acquaintances were flown to medical specialists for life-saving surgeries, schools got new gymnasiums, churches got new steeples, children got new pets and jerks got their comeuppance…
Sinatra’s benevolence was anonymous and “dal cuore.” Once, while in Tokyo, Japan, preparing for a performance in the huge, packed sold-out arena at the Mikado theater, he read in a local Japanese English-language newspaper about a group of struggling, nearly starving Buddhist priests in a remote mountain monastery near Mount Fuji and decided he would help them. He chartered a helicopter and flew up to see them. When the fog was too heavy, he brought the Buddhist priests down to Tokyo by train, hosted them at a hotel for a week, and made a major donation to the order.
He proudly played his records for the priests and had the translators explain the lyrics to them. The religious men seemed to enjoy the songs, as did everyone else in Japan. Probably the biggest kick Mr. Sinatra got in Japan was learning about a school that taught a course in English to corporate executives that consisted of playing his records and having them sing along.
Sinatra was their model of perfect enunciation. What better compliment could a singer have? Frank then flew to Korea, which was run-down compared to Japan (its economic miracle was yet to happen), then to Okinawa to entertain the troops at our military bases there. All done on Sinatra’s “dime”, with no advance publicity. People from all walks of life were the beneficiaries of Frank’s acts of kindness.
His responsiveness to others knew no limit and hard luck cases never found a softer touch. “Once hi friend, you’re his friend for life” said director Vincente Minelli. When the late George Raft was in desperate straits financially, after the IRS hit him for 85 grand in back-taxes, Frank gave the actor a blank check to take care of it. Frank Sinatra was the most influential vocalist of the 20th century.
His was an incomparable personality whose impact will be felt for generations to come. And through his music Frank Sinatra was a comfort during sad times and co-celebrant at happy times and special occasions… In 1998, when Mr. Sinatra died at eighty-two, many could not believe he was gone. The late Tony Della Monica, a life-long fan, remembered that at his later concerts Frank would toast the audience with the Italian phrase “A cent’anni. May you live a hundred years, and may the last voice you hear be mine.”
Many fans believed he would make it. When Sinatra died (May 14, 1998) President Bill Clinton recognized all the singer had done for America and the loss the country felt. He spoke for many, when writing to Nancy Sinatra, “Frank gave so much to so many through his music. He will remain an incredible legend, living on in the memories of those blessed to have known him and those who appreciated his talents.”
Frank’s simple gravestone says: “Francis Albert Sinatra. 1915-1998. “The best is yet to come.” Let’s all hope so.
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