SOMEWHERE A VOICE IS CALLING

Here's an account of Frank Sinatra that includes some anecdotes about him not widely known. 02/23/2016

SOMEWHERE A VOICE IS CALLING

Hoboken's most famous personality, Frank Sinatra, died peacefully in May 1998 at age 82. In 2000, the city placed a bronze plaque on the sidewalk in front of his birthplace, 415 Monroe Street. Fittingly, or ironically, the building itself no longer exists. It burned down many years ago, symbolizing the many bridges Frank torched throughout his career.

While I never met the famous singer, my brother, sister, and a cousin, Matthew Finnerty, did. My brother could not provide me with any anecdotes, but my sister gave me two of them. In her first one, she recalled seeing Frank at high school dances: "He was skinny, pimply, and not my idea of a dream boat."  Her second comment flattered him:  “I dated a pal of Frank's who went on to become a member of the Secret Service. Years later, he told me that while on duty at the White House, Frank visited Kennedy. As he entered, Frank spotted him, stopped and said hello.”

On the flip side, Matty, who starred for Demarest High School’s basketball team, said:  “Frank was my classmate and sometimes would carry my gym bag into the locker room to avoid paying admission to watch the game.”

I first saw Sinatra in person during his heyday at the New York Paramount Theater in 1943, in the company of my pal, Jimmy Kennedy, and our dates, Joan Ryan and Dottie Murray. When Frank appeared on stage, Joan and Dottie erupted into a state of frenzied ecstasy, while digging their nails into the palms of my hands. The pain they inflicted caused me to cry out too. Mind you, this new idol had yet to sing a note.

Not long thereafter, Frank made a personal appearance at my high school. The girls gave him a screaming ovation, but the boys sat on their hands. After talking to the students for a few minutes, someone pleaded for him to sing. He said, with some reluctance, "I can't because I didn't bring my accompanist."  The girls groaned in disappointment. The boys clapped approvingly. One lad then shouted out, "You can't sing even with one." This seemed to dampen Frank's enthusiasm. I have the impression he left the stage without singing, but another classmate of mine had a different recollection. He reminded me that he had introduced Sinatra to the crowd, and said Frank not only sang that day, but signed autographs backstage for a bevy of girls. His is probably the more accurate memory, but I like mine better.

He appeared that morning to have fan magazine pictures taken of him at his high school. Of course, no one told the public that Frank attended but failed to graduate. Just think how far he might have gone in life had he managed to do so.

In 1947, he appeared in Hoboken’s Columbus Day parade, riding atop a fire truck. (His father was a city fireman). Some residents, probably Irish, threw fruit at him. He did not book a return engagement.

In the early '50's, before we wed, Angie and I saw him at Bill Miller’s Riviera, a fancy supper club on the Jersey side of the George Washington Bridge. His voice did not impress me at the time, but his fans were legion by then.

During the years he spent with Ava Gardner, she visited Frank’s parents occasionally. They lived around the corner from my parents. As soon as someone spotted her, the neighborhood would buzz for days afterwards.

Many years later, Hoboken’s Stevens Institute of Technology (my alma mater), decided to award Frank an Honorary Degree, in the hope he would endow the school. The conservative alumni were incensed at this decision because his Mafia ties were much in the news, and Frank had not exactly distinguished himself as a great humanitarian. In grand Hollywood style, Frank arrived by helicopter, and left immediately after the ceremony ended. The Faculty should have arranged for some front-end funding because he never endowed penny one to Stevens. Boo. Hiss.

I last saw him in person at the Desert Sky Theater in Phoenix in 1991. He sang non-stop for over an hour, a remarkable feat considering his age, about 75 at the time. His voice still had that incomparable quality, his phrasing impeccable as ever, and his repertoire top quality, one of the hallmarks of his career. Nothing about him amazed me more than his lifelong ability to sing without a trace of a Hoboken accent.

Da noive ov da guy.

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