His Way_ The Unauthorized Biography of Frank Sinatra - Kitty Kelley [71]
“I was wrong,” said Sammy Cahn. “The lady walked in, smiled demurely, allowed Sinatra to take her hand and lead her into the bedroom.”
This was not Frank’s first public display of sexual prowess, nor would it be his last.
Every New Year’s Eve, the men in Sinatra’s group dressed in black tie and took their wives to Frank and Nancy’s Toluca Lake home for a spectacular musical revue that was still remembered fondly decades later. “People begged to be invited,” said Jo-Carroll Silvers. “These were phenomenal full-scale shows full of skits and songs that we rehearsed for months and months. In one, Sammy wrote me a song called ‘I’m the Wife of the Life of the Party’ and I brought the house down when I sang it.” The song was a devastating satire with lyrics listing all of Phil Silvers’s faults and irritating habits, including the comedy routines he did without ever being asked.
Comedy writer Harry Crane wrote many of the show’s sketches, the best remembered being one in which Frank played a waiter in a restaurant where Sammy Cahn, Harry Crane, and Peter Lawford were eating dinner. When they finished, Lawford, renowned for being extremely tightfisted, summoned Frank. “Hey, waiter. I’ll take the check now.” Frank, who was carrying a tray piled high with dishes, was so stunned by Lawford’s offer to pay that he fell over and dropped the tray, smashing all the dishes to the floor. In another, Frank appeared in blackface and sang his version of “Mammy.”
As much work went into these New Year’s Eve shows as into any Broadway production. Richard Whorf, director and designer, painted a huge drop curtain for the set. Jule Styne wrote all the music and Sammy Cahn all the lyrics. Frank spent weeks working as a carpenter and electrician, sawing lumber, hanging lights, and borrowing costumes and props from MGM, where he had recently signed a five-year contract. Theater chairs were set up in the living room, where everyone performed, including some of the wives, who were given minor roles.
People clamored for invitations, with some like Walter Annenberg flying in from as far away as Philadelphia. “Thanks a million for letting us come,” he said. “If you have a party next year, please invite us and we’ll fly out for it.”
One New Year’s Eve in 1945, Frank stood at the front door greeting his guests, while Nancy stayed in the kitchen fussing with the food. She still knew her place. Her husband was the center of everyone’s attention; she was simply a satellite. He had received the greatest personal acclaim of any musical performer to date, and Modern Screen had named him the most popular screen star of 1945. In addition to his exploding fame, he was immensely rich. According to Walter Winchell, Frank Sinatra’s earnings the previous year were “more than any other individual in the world.” He was at the zenith of his success, whirling in a sphere of glamour and glitter where there was no longer any room for an Italian wife from Jersey City.
On the West Coast, away from the influence of his mother and George Evans, Frank took more extramarital liberties, to the acute embarrassment of his wife. It was becoming increasingly difficult for her to close her eyes to the little items that had been appearing in movie magazines about Frank and Lana Turner and Frank and Marilyn Maxwell. But she followed George Evans’s advice, saying, “Everyone else may love Frank, but he loves me, and I’m the one he comes home to.”
Nancy enjoyed having the New Year’s Eve parties because they were in her home, where she felt most comfortable. Most of her guests were friends of long-standing with whom she felt secure. But this party did not bode well. As she was passing the hors d’oeuvres, she noticed a beautiful showgirl wearing a ring exactly like the