Sometimes, I really wish I wasn’t so crazy about this guy’s singing.
I spent several days reading the second volume of James Kaplan’s biography of Frank Sinatra. With almost nine hundred pages of actual text not to mention an extensive bibliography and notes, this is probably the closest to a definitive biography of the singer we’ll ever see. This is especially true since so many quoted sources were from live interviews with people who knew Sinatra, some tangentially, others deeply. As time inevitably passes, those sources can be expected to shuffle off this mortal coil. The bio also quotes extensively from other Sinatra books to include the tell-all from his fired valet of many years, George Jacobs.
My most important impression from the book is the very serious nature of Sinatra’s musicianship. He cared deeply about the music that he made, worked unceasingly to put together the best material, musicians, arrangers, and producers, and labored mightily to produce the finest possible version of each and every song, not hesitating to do over twenty takes in one session to make sure every note, either from his throat or his accompanists, was absolutely perfect. This could lead to outright tyranny on Sinatra’s part (one favorite stunt was to fix an erring musician with an icy glare and ask “So, where you working next week?”), but I and millions of others think that the results were worth it, sheer musical magic. Yes, I’m a gushing fan of Sinatra as a singer, what do you expect given the title of this post? Lots of intricate detail is provided that will fascinate and delight Sinatra musicologists with good capsule bios and descriptions of some of his most important collaborators, Bill Miller, Jimmy Van Heusen, Nelson Riddle, et al.
And then, and then, there’s the dreary, miserable side of Sinatra. There’s really no way around it, not if you’re realistic: the guy was just horrible. From loyal friends dumped for no real reason to lovers and wives abused and reviled to just perfectly vile public scenes including frequent violence that absolutely nobody should be allowed to get away with, Sinatra was simply the worst. Kaplan discusses one incident where circumstances strongly suggest that Sinatra had a man murdered by having his car run off the road to repay him for the unpardonable affront of objecting when Sinatra came on to his wife. One of the most memorable incidents is the massive public tantrum Sinatra threw at the Sands when they cut off his gambling credit, a freakout that culminated with the casino manager punching the caps off his front teeth after Sinatra ethnically reviled him (couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy).
Another depressing aspect is the wearying sameness of Sinatra’s private life. He just never really grew as a human being after a certain point. Each night the same drunken revels until the dawn with the same gang of hangers-on and made guys, and always the same stories repeated ad infinitum. It’s no wonder some people (the ones with some self-respect) finally got tired of Sinatra and wanted nothing to do with him.
All of this is true and still, there’s Sinatra’s music, something that will endure long after his multiple villainies in life. I hope readers don’t get a negative impression of the book based on the previous discussion. Kaplan tries his hardest to give an unbiased portrait of Sinatra in full and in the round, warts and all, and succeeds admirably. Anyone who likes Sinatra’s music, gets a kick from reading about Old Hollywood, or would just like to learn some interesting details about American history (there’s a good discussion of the Kennedys and their relationships with the man) should read this book. I just can’t recommend it highly enough.
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0385535392/ref=nav_timeline_asin?ie=UTF8&psc=1