His Way_ The Unauthorized Biography of Frank Sinatra - Kitty Kelley [69]
Casually dismissing the charges, Frank told The Daily Worker: “Somebody said I spoke like a Communist. You know, they call Shirley Temple [who was eighteen years old at the time] a Communist too. Well, I said, me and Shirley both, I guess.”
Smith, who was hell-bent on destroying “Hollywood’s left-wing cabal,” called Frank a “Mrs. Roosevelt in pants,” which delighted him.
“If that means agreeing with Jefferson and Tom Paine and Willkie and Franklin Roosevelt, then I’ll gladly accept the title,” Frank said.
Later, Gerval T. Murphy, a director of the supreme council of the Knights of Columbus, accused Frank of aligning himself with the Communist Party by speaking “at a Red rally of sixteen thousand left-wingers” in New York’s Madison Square Garden.
“That was no Red rally,” Frank said. “It was a rally sponsored by the Veterans Committee of the Independent Citizens Committee of the Arts, Sciences, and Professions. While Murphy was hunting witches, the committee was urging passage of legislation to provide housing for veterans. I was trying to help veterans get homes to live in. If that was subversive activity, I’m all for it. Murphy’s statement was a complete distortion. The minute anyone tries to help the little guy, he’s called a Communist. I’m getting so I expect crackpots to say things like that. The guy’s a jerk.”
When the congressional investigation into communism was focused on Hollywood, Sinatra said: “Once they get the movies throttled, how long will it be before the committee gets to work on freedom of the air? How long will it be before we’re told what we can say and cannot say into a radio microphone? If you can make a pitch on a nationwide radio network for a square deal for the underdog, will they call you a commie?”
In the face of growing anti-Communist virulence, Frank later backed down and tempered his earlier statements. “I don’t like Communists,” he said, “and I have nothing to do with any organization except the Knights of Columbus.”
“Frank was such an ardent liberal in those days,” said Jo-Carroll Silvers. “So concerned about poor people that he was always quoting Henry Wallace. We both shared this political bond, more so than anyone else in our social group. In fact, both Frank and I were fairly close to the Communist Party line at that time. Neither of us was a card-carrying member, of course, but we were both very close to people like Albert Maitz who were, and we shared their beliefs for the most part.
“But Frank was unsettling, almost scary sometimes—a real contradiction. His temper was awful in those days. Phil and Sammy Cahn were frightened to death of him because he was so volatile. You never knew when he was going to explode. He was a sincere liberal and would take to the stump to criticize any racial prejudice, but then he was always mean to the little people around him. He seemed to enjoy making people look little in front of others. He thought it made him look big. Perhaps that’s because Frank is physically small and slight, and needs to feel big and masculine. I don’t know. He treated Hank Sanicola like a servant and made him wait on him all the time. He’d say, ‘Match me,’ and make Hank light his cigarette. He’d scream at Bobby Burns.”
Formerly the band manager for Tommy Dorsey, Bobby Burns had gone to work for Frank after the war and had become his personal manager for a while. He traveled with Frank while Hank Sanicola stayed in L.A. to supervise Frank’s business investments.
Next to President Roosevelt and Winston Churchill, another man Frank admired in 1947 was Benjamin