His Way_ The Unauthorized Biography of Frank Sinatra - Kitty Kelley [241]
The box office returns on Dirty Dingus Magee were even more disappointing. Playing a frontier rascal in his fifty-fifth movie, Frank was crucified by the critics, who charged him with crude double entendres and witless burlesquing, suggesting that perhaps his time as a leading man had passed.
“What we’re supposed to find so funny is merely disgusting,” said the Los Angeles Times.
“Sinatra, who proved his acting abilities in such pictures as From Here to Eternity and Man with the Golden Arm, merely lends his presence here and not too much of that,” said Arthur Knight in Saturday Review.
Describing the movie as a shabby piece of goods masquerading as a Western, Roger Ebert in the Chicago Sun-Times said Frank had not made a good movie since The Manchurian Candidate in 1962. He held him responsible for the failure of Dirty Dingus Magee, saying, “I lean toward blaming Sinatra, who’s notorious for not really caring about his movies. If a shot doesn’t work, he doesn’t like to try it again; he might be late getting back to Vegas. What’s more, the ideal Sinatra role requires him to be in no more than a fourth of the scenes, getting him lots of loot and top billing while his supporting cast does the work.”
After the clash with Sanford Waterman at Caesars Palace, there was no Vegas to return to, for Frank had vowed never to set foot in Nevada again. At fifty-five, he enjoyed good health, except for persistent pain following surgery on his right hand for a condition known as Dupuytren’s contracture, a shortening or distortion of muscular tissue in the palm, which made two of his fingers bend inward like claws.
“He isn’t really sick or doddering or dying from an incurable ailment,” said Nancy, Jr. “He’s very much alive and well and kicking … but he says it’s the end of an era, and he’s right. His kind of show business era has ended. So he’s going to take it easy and enjoy himself.”
After publicly announcing his retirement in a letter printed by syndicated columnist Suzy (Aileen Mehle), his favorite reporter and occasional date, Frank carefully orchestrated his farewell performance for June 13, 1971, at the Motion Picture and Television Relief Fund benefit at the Los Angeles Music Center. He chose songs to represent periods in his life, and mirrored the moods of a generation that remembered the big band sounds of Tommy Dorsey and the swooning at the Paramount.
“Here’s the way it started,” he said, slipping into “All or Nothing at All,” his first hit record after leaving Tommy Dorsey and going on his own.
“That was the beginning,” he told the audience, which included Vice-President and Mrs. Agnew, Governor and Mrs. Reagan, and Presidential Advisor Henry Kissinger. He sang “I’ve Got You Under My Skin,” and “I’ll Never Smile Again,” and “Nancy,” and “Fly Me to the Moon,” and “The Lady Is a Tramp,” and “Ol’ Man River.” He sang with power, giving each lyric exquisite phrasing, each word melodic shading, and the audience came roaring to its feet four times to give him a standing ovation. Then he sang his signature song, “My Way,” belting out the words so closely associated with his life. Then, with dramatic flourish, he announced that having built his career on saloon songs, he would end it the same way. The stagelights went dark, with only a pin spot picking out his profile in silhouette as he started singing “Angel Eyes.” He lit a cigarette and let the smoke envelop him. As he sang the last line, he strolled offstage into the darkness, refusing to do an encore.
He had made fifty-five films, more than one hundred albums, and some two thousand recordings.
But Frank’s announced retirement was not convincing to everyone.
“He’ll be back with a whole series of comebacks,” said Sammy Davis, Jr.
“No, no, he’s serious,” said Nancy Sinatra, Jr.
“I think he’ll be back,” said Bing Crosby.