His Way_ The Unauthorized Biography of Frank Sinatra - Kitty Kelley [50]
The bobby-soxers squealed with delight when they learned that their idol had been spared. The Varsity was relieved, and “the monster” noncommittal. The only statement came from Mama Sinatra, who was so taken with her fabricated image as a Red Cross nurse in World War I that she played it to the hilt. “Oh, dear,” she said. “Frankie wanted to get in so badly because we wanted to have our pictures taken together in uniform.”
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For all the women in Frank Sinatra’s life—the starlets and singers, waitresses and call girls—he much preferred the company of men, especially fighters and those who were attracted to boxing. Every Friday night in the early 1940s, he and The Varsity headed for the old Madison Square Garden on Fiftieth Street and Eighth Avenue to see the fights. No woman ever interrupted this weekly ritual. Going to the fights represented more than the spectacle of raw violence. There was also the camaraderie of like-minded men who enjoyed the sport and its elemental violence.
Some men took women—flashy women glamorous enough to instill envy and awe in other men—but, for the most part, this was a male arena where men watched other men in satin trunks pummel each other.
Before the action started, the air was visceral. The Garden was gamy and rife with gambling. Bets were made by smalltime hustlers and high-stake gamblers, bookies and fight promoters. In one part of the Garden, several rows of men sat under a blue cloud of cigar haze. They wore fedoras and iridescent suits that shimmered under the glaring lights. Some of them sported tuxedos, as if they were dressed for the most important party of their lives. Others who sat ringside wore camel’s-hair coats and diamond-encrusted gold pinkie rings that complemented their solid gold bridgework.
Frank liked to sit there with the subculture celebrities—the restaurateurs and nightclub owners like Toots Shor, and crime syndicate bosses like Frank Costello. This is where Frank Sinatra paid his weekly respects to Willie Moretti (aka Willie Moore), the underworld boss of New Jersey, who was his neighbor in Hasbrouck Heights. Moretti was a short, garrulous man whose public recognition of Frank paved Sinatra’s way with other mobsters.
“I never missed a Friday night,” said Frank. “And the great fights I saw there and the great times I had I wouldn’t trade for anything. Going to the Friday night fights was an event, a great event.”
His passion for boxing had started in childhood with his admiration for his father, who fought thirty pro fights, and his three boxer uncles. Too small to carry on the family tradition, Frank, who weighed 127 pounds and whose hands swelled every time he landed a punch, became an avid fan. He enjoyed the heavyweight boxers’ display of strength and toughness. He felt comfortable with these men and said he liked to associate with them because they were great company and had a sense of humor. “I remember teasing Marciano and Dempsey for that high-pitched voice each had,” he said years later. “I’d say to them, ‘You guys must have been hit in the crotch too many times,’ and they’d laugh.”
In 1943, Frank paid ten thousand dollars to buy an interest in heavyweight fighter Tami Mauriello. He attended all Mauriello’s fights and accompanied him to the Gotham Health Club every chance he got. When Tami was drafted, he gave Frank his gold identification bracelet, which the singer wore as proudly as a high school girl wears her boyfriend’s class ring.
With the induction of Tami and boxing writer Jimmy Tarantino, The Varsity was depleted by two, but there were always eager replacements and stand-ins more than willing to do Frank’s bidding. Many of these men were uneducated Italians from the streets who shared an ethnic bond. The closest among them were the Sicilians, who accepted the ill-tempered yelling and tolerated the haranguing to be with a star who could introduce them to a glittering world of nightclubs and celebrities and potentially more money