Frank_ The Voice - James Kaplan [125]
He began location work for It Happened in Brooklyn, in Brooklyn. Dickie Whorf quickly discovered that it was one thing to direct a New Year’s Eve show at Frank’s house and quite another thing to direct him in a movie. Others were learning what Manie Sacks had learned, to his sorrow. Whorf, a darkly handsome, easygoing New Englander, was a man Frank liked, but the star tested the young director’s patience to the limit. As Sinatra had discovered on Anchors Aweigh, being on a movie set made him anxious and panicky. He would leave at the slightest excuse—or simply not show up. “I got a break when we were starting this new picture in New York,” he said later. “We were shooting on the Brooklyn Bridge. We’d get out there in the morning and there’d be fog, so I wouldn’t have to work all day.”
There were many distractions, but chiefly there was Marilyn Maxwell. All his cronies knew about Marvelous—in fact, most of New York knew. Certainly the staff at the Waldorf-Astoria were aware. She and Frank spent a lot of time in his suite, and when they went out, they were seen dining and dancing at all the right places. Marilyn visited him frequently on the set in Brooklyn, sometimes spiriting him away.
An MGM production memo for July 7:
Company had early call, stood by until 1:00 P.M., then called Sinatra to be ready at 3:15 P.M., sent car for him but could not locate him. Sinatra never came. Waited until 5:50 P.M. at doubletime on crew.
The crew rolled their eyes. His pals rolled their eyes. Sinatra was walking on air.
Toots Shor finally put his foot down when Frank said he’d be bringing Marilyn to the title bout between Billy Conn and Joe Louis at Yankee Stadium. For one thing, the fights were by definition masculine territory. When and if a lady came along, it was a big deal. All that pale flesh and perfume tended to attract attention around the ring. Especially if the lady happened to be the knockout date of a famous man with a wife.
Toots Shor was not amused at the prospect of seeing Marilyn Maxwell on Sinatra’s arm smack in the middle of Yankee Stadium—not least because he planned on bringing Mrs. Toots to the fight. The presence of Frank’s date would be insulting to the missus, to the institution of marriage itself. Not to mention the fact that the big rematch between Conn and Louis was to be televised, one of the first major sporting events ever to appear on the magic box. Thousands would be watching. But when Shor told Sinatra, in all gruff seriousness, that the only woman Sinatra could ever think about bringing was Mrs. Sinatra, the crumb bum looked at him and winked. Winked!
Toots shouldn’t worry a bit—Marvelous would behave herself.
It was an impossible situation. So Toots called Manie, and Manie, having more or less given up on talking Frank out of irrational behavior, called Evans. Evans took a big gulp from the bottle of Maalox he kept handy in a desk drawer.
His client’s life was rapidly heading for trouble. During the last year Sinatra had been Mr. Humanitarian, grabbing awards, neatly sidestepping the gossip. But Sinatra was Sinatra. There was just too much blatant misbehavior. Evans could only outflank the gossips for so long. The publicist had done his best and then hoped for the best, always a bad strategy. With Sinatra, the worst could always be counted on. “Frank was born to be a star,” he once mused to a reporter. “But he was also born to be a controversial figure, and a star and controversial figure he will remain until the day he dies.”
Evans knew about the production