FRANKLY FRANGO

Author Gets Punched!

Sinatra Had It Dunne

Frank Sinatra once verbally and wickedly embarrassed writer Dominick Dunne's wife and on another occasion had a captain of waiters punch Dunne in the face.

It's two of the juiciest bits of gossip in Dunne's The Way We Lived Then (collections of a well-known name dropper). The book is a casual read, really more entertaining than informative. And the photos, taken by the author, of the fortunate, famous and fatuous add nicely to the gossipy text. Although this is lightweight stuff, one should not forget that Dunne is a regular contributor to the voguish (sorry about that) vanity Fair and his exceptional coverage of the O. J. Simpson trial enhanced his reputation considerably as an accomplished reporter and author. The name dropping by Dunne should easily interest the celebrity fetishness of the enormous majority of Americans, including this writer. Dunne is really not a bilious busybody, but there are gossipy goodies, as we noted, concerning Mr. Sinatra. Dunne recalled that Sinatra was shamelessly unkind to his wife, Lenny, at a classy party given by Irving and Mary Lazar at the famous Bistro, in which the Dunnes invested a few bucks. Sinatra, according to Dunne, verbally abused Lenny in front of friends until she broke down and wept, "simply because he disliked me," said Dunne, "he took it out on her." Another incendiary incident occurred while Dunne and his wife were having dinner at the trendy restaurant, Daisy. Sinatra was sitting at a nearby table with the morose Mia Farrow (Dean Martin said at the time he had a bottle or scotch that was older than the fatuous Farrow), and Nancy and Tina, the singer's lovely daughters. Suddenly, the captain of the waiters tapped Dunne on the shoulder and then punched him in the face. Flabbergasted, Dunne looked at the waiter as if to say "what-the-hell-was-that-all-about?" "I'm sorry, Mr. Dunne," the waiter whispered,"but Mr. Sinatra paid me50 dollars to do it." The waiter admitted he was terrified to resist Sinatra's insensitive request. Dunne remarked that the wild incident was a "cruel and humiliating" public episode. "It made me despise the kind of power that could make a decent man like George do what he did because he was afraid not to," Dunne said.

Addenda: Sinatra was a key figure in the early, stunning success of Las Vegas: he literally made the Sands Hotel millions, and he used his extraordinary influence and connections to attract entertainment heavyweights to Vegas. He was a fine actor (although he never graduated from high school and was an indifferent, casual reader); he could be petulant and recalcitrant on the set, stopping production, literally costing thousands of dollars in downtime. He performed in every major room in the country, held concerts in magnificent halls and stadiums throughout the world, and all of his performances were characterized as nothing short of spectacular. He never appeared in a Broadway play, because he admitted he didn't have the discipline. I was at the Paramount Theatre in 1943 (much to the dismay of my mother). Although I didn't see the following, I either heard or read that the brilliant, peripatetic publicist, George Evans, had ambulances in front of the theater (how he arranged that with the city, I'll never know) to take bobby soxers who fainted during Sinatra's performance to nearby hospitals after listening to "The Voice," a brilliant appellation coined by Evans. Sinatra loved Evans. Sadly, George Evans died at the age of 45. I sat silently in the Paramount that memorable day as young girls screamed, clapped, whistled, and swooned as Sinatra sang, "I'll Never Smile Again."I was immobilized: I knew I was in the presence of an original, an extraordinary talent. I even found myself weeping as he sang. God, was he good. Educators described the behavior of the bobby-Boxers as "dangerous and animalistic" and servicemen called Sinatra "The Skinny Guinea With The Meatball Eyes."Actually, Sinatra had gorgeous blue eyes--hence ole Blue Eyes.

Some of Sinatra's most satisfying and peaceful days were spent with his last wife, the gorgeous Barbara Marx, a Jew. Incidentally--and its' hardly incidental--Sinatra either loved Barbara enormously or he honored and respected her deeply. Because he left her more than $3 million in his will. Sinatra's children never contested his decision. Many Italians silently resented Sinatra for marrying a Jew--because their inherent bigotry toward Jews was deep-rooted and unfortunately, very disturbing. As a vocalist and an insightful and brilliant interpreter of popular songs, Francis Albert Sinatra was a genius--a word I use infrequently and when I do, it is with great reverence and sincerity.