His Way_ The Unauthorized Biography of Frank Sinatra - Kitty Kelley [68]
“Without smiling, Frank kept staring at the audience. Finally he unfolded his arms and moved to the microphone. ‘I can lick any son of a bitch in this joint,’ he said. Pandemonium broke loose as the kids cheered him. They thought he was right down their street, and from then on, it was terrific.”
Frank spoke earnestly. “I implore you to return to school. This is a bad deal, kids. It’s not good for you and it’s not good for the city of Gary, which has done so much to help with the war for freedom the world over.
“Believe me, I know something about the business of racial intolerance. At eleven I was called a ‘dirty guinea’ back home in New Jersey,” he said.
“No, no, no,” shrieked hundreds of girls in the audience. “No, Frankie, no.”
“We’ve all done it,” he said. “We’ve all used the words nigger or kike or mick or polack or dago. Cut it out, kids. Go back to school. You’ve got to go back because you don’t want to be ashamed of your student body, your city, your country.”
He pointed out that the Nazis used the method of divide and rule by pitting race against race. “Don’t let it happen here,” he pleaded. “I learned that a few people who have nothing to do with the Gary schools, who aren’t even parents, have interfered and helped foment this trouble. Don’t listen to them. Sit down and talk it over. If President Roosevelt could do it with Churchill and Stalin, then the kids of America can work out their problems too.”
The priest onstage glanced at the mayor sitting next to him, and obvious embarrassment crossed the faces of the other civic and business leaders on the platform. Frank ignored their discomfort and proceeded to name one of the agitators, who was a local businessman. He called him “a cheap meddler” and “a two-bit politician who has had his name on the billboard two times but never was elected.” “Surely you’re not going to let a man like this influence you,” he said. “You ought to run this bum out of town.”
The priest stalked off the stage at this point and the mayor, red in the face, started to leave as well, but reconsidered and stayed in his seat. Frank finished by singing two songs and asking the kids to rise and repeat with him a pledge for tolerance. “We will strive to work together to prove that the American way is the only fair and democratic way of life.” Then everyone sang the national anthem.
Sputtering with rage, the mayor accosted Frank as he was leaving. “Your remarks were most unfortunate. You were ill-advised in your statements, and what you said was a disservice to the cause and to the community.”
Frank did not end the strike at Froebel High School, but for making the trip he received the first scroll presented by the Bureau of Intercultural Education in New York, where Eleanor Roosevelt was the keynote speaker. A month later, he received the annual unity award from the Golden Slipper Square Club of Philadelphia. The Newspaper Guild honored him with a Page One Award, and the National Conference of Christians and Jews cited him for “his outstanding efforts and contribution to the cause of religious tolerance and unity among Americans.” He received the New Jersey Organization of Teachers award for “making the greatest contribution to racial progress and intercultural amity.” His name was added to the 1945 Honor Roll of Race Relations by the curator of the Schomburg Collection of Negro Literature of the New York Public Library. Months later, the Catholic Youth Organization of Chicago presented him with their Club of Champions award, citing him as “an honest, fearless, and forthright fighter against intolerance, who has utilized his influence with a vast following to further those ideals which are the heartbeat of our democracy.”
The liberal press applauded Frank for his tolerance crusade, but others criticized him for associating with groups such as American Youth for