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THINKING ABOUT FRANK SINATRA |
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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. |
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Tracy Austin o
Bob Barker o Gustave Flaubert o Connie Francis o
Wings Hauser o Ed Koch o
John Osborne o Cathy Rigby o Edward G. Robinson o
Frank Sinatra o Harry Warner o Dionne Warwick o
Joe Williams |
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One life will always
make a difference.
‘One of a kind’ is a phrase overused, but not in the
case of Sinatra.
Is it possible to do a better service to the world than to
fill it with song?
In choosing a path, always choose the most challenging. The
easy road is crowded and boring in the bargain.
A friend is forever. |
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FOUR SETS OF WORDS &
A POEM/SONG FOR SINATRA |
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This is not poetry or exactly
prose. When I was writing "A Man Alone" for Sinatra I wanted there to be some
connecting words between the songs that helped advance the story line. This was to be a
personal album for me and for him, so it was important to try and get inside this
seemingly inscrutable man who turned out to be a lot less complicated than some
biographers have intimated.
Frank was honest, romantic, only impatient with delay and incompetence. Some people forget
what an intuitive and intelligent actor he was capable of being. He didn’t change a
word I wrote for him to speak. I confess that I made changes later when some of these
words were reprinted in "In Someone’s Shadow." On the album, they are
perfect, because Sinatra, like any great actor, made them his own. I’d love to say
that I directed him in these performances, but I can’t. With the exception of one
paragraph, I made no suggestions at all.
Other than a couple of hundred books I made up for Frank to give away to friends, this is
the first time these words have appeared as they were originally spoken and written.
- RM 12/11/98.
Out Beyond the Window
My window looks out over the park.
Every year I’ve move another story up,
‘Till now
I’m almost close enough
To the roof of the sky
To touch it.
I could even move the clouds aside,
But no clouds come.
If they did,
I’d welcome them,
For I have few visitors here anymore.
There must be highways somewhere,
Roads I’ve missed.
Something more than sky
Out beyond the window.
Night
I can just about
get through the day
but the night makes me nervous.
Not for any reason
except maybe that it catches you
unaware.
and follows you
the way a woman follows
when she wants something.
I’ve been in every kind of night
so I shouldn’t be afraid
of darkness.
But for some reason
the night makes me nervous.
Some Traveling Music
How can you say something new about being alone ? Tell someone you’re a loner and
right away they think you’re lonely. It’s not the same thing, you know.
It’s not wanting to put all your marbles in one pocket. It’s caring enough not
to care too much.. Mostly it’s letting yourself come first for a while.
One day I’ll find an island, a think place. Go there with a mess of records
and a ukulele and just sit strummin’. I might even do some thinkin’. About the
women, and the towns I’ve left behind.
From Promise To Promise
I sometimes wonder why people make promises they never intend to keep. Not in big things
like love or elections, but the things that count. The newspaper boy who says he’ll
save an extra paper and doesn’t, the laundry that tells you your suit will be ready
on Thursday. . . and it isn’t.
Love? Well, yes.. But like everything else as we go from day to day we move from promise
to promise.. I’ve had a good many promises now so I can wait for the harvest and some
of them to come about.
Empty Is
To catalog empty,
You need a big book.
Empty is
the sky before the sun wakes up
in morning..
The eyes of animals in cages.
Empty. The faces of women
In mourning.
Me ?
Don’t ask me about empty.
Empty is a string of dirty days
held together by some rain
and the cold wind drumming
at the trees again.
Empty is the color of the fields
along about September
when the days go marching
in a line toward November.
Empty is the hour before sleep
kills you every night
then pushes you to safety
away from every kind of light.
Empty is me.
Empty is me.
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From the album and the privately issued book, " A Man Alone",
1969. Revisions for "In Someone’s Shadow", 1969
In addition to the above spoken word selections, the songs
for "A Man Alone" consisted of the title song and a reprise of it written on the
recording date, "The Beautiful Strangers", "The Single Man",
"I’ve Been To Town", "Lonesome Cites" and "Love’s Been
Good To Me". |
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