His Way_ The Unauthorized Biography of Frank Sinatra - Kitty Kelley [97]
“Frank was always washing his hands, constantly washing, washing, washing, as if he was trying to wash his life away or something. When he wasn’t washing his hands, he was changing his shorts. He would drop his pants to the floor, take off his drawers, and kick them up in the air with his foot. Some flunkie would chase those dirty shorts around the room while Frank put on a clean pair. He must’ve changed his shorts every twenty minutes. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.”
Despite weekly shake-ups in the writing, planning, and production departments, Frank’s show continued to receive poor reviews. In frustration, he blamed everyone around him. He lashed out at Mansfield and cursed the stagehands for being too slow. He castigated the critics who held up The Dave Garroway Show as the model he should emulate. He was especially bitter toward those who said guest stars like Perry Como stole the show from him. Mostly he blamed CBS for the technical mishaps and bad planning.
“Why can’t the network smooth out the bugs on a show after it’s been on the air five weeks?” he asked Jack O’Brian of the New York Journal-American. “I’m not a genius—I’m a performer. I can’t think up the scripts. I certainly wish I could. I can’t direct the camera work even if I wanted to. I’m onstage. They’re not even pointing the thing at me!”
Frank banished Irving Mansfield from his sight but not before the producer invoked a clause in his contract and quit. The following Saturday, Frank showed up three hours late for rehearsal, but Mansfield no longer cared. This was his last Sinatra show, so he waited patiently for Frank to get started.
“During the rehearsal, I pressed the talk-back and said, ‘Frank, I think we better go over that bit again. The dynabeams were off, the curtain was too slow, the—’
“ ‘I can’t see in there. Who said that?’ Frank asked.
“Irving Mansfield.”
“ ‘Come on out here,’ he yelled.”
Mansfield walked out of the control booth, and Frank turned on him. “Listen, pal, I don’t have time today to do it again, and I don’t care what you like or don’t like. You don’t like me, either, do you?”
Mansfield felt the tension among the entourage standing in the wings. No one said a word. He looked the irate star squarely in the eye. “Frank, as an artist, you are incomparable. Nobody can touch you. But where you’re a failure is as a human being.”
“You’re fired, pal,” said Frank. “FIRED! Do you hear me?”
“Sorry, Frank. I already quit this morning,” said Mansfield.
The show stumbled along for a few more months and could not hold its own against Sid Caesar and Imogene Coca’s Your Show of Shows. Eventually, Frank lost his sponsors and his show.
Unable to find work in movies or television, he turned to his friends in the Mafia for nightclub bookings. Paul “Skinny” D’Amato booked him into his 500 Club in Atlantic City; Moe Dalitz let him sing at the Desert Inn in Las Vegas, Willie Moretti gave him several engagements at Ben Marden’s Riviera in Fort Lee, New Jersey, and Joe Fischetti kept him working in Chicago.
Since their trip to Cuba together in 1947 to see Lucky Luciano, Frank and Joe Fischetti had become close friends. Frank introduced Al Capone’s good-looking cousin to Ava’s best friend and roommate, Peggy Maley, and the foursome spent many evenings together. Frank did many favors for the Fischetti brothers, who used his friendship to their best advantage. Government documents show that they once asked Frank to fly with them in a private plane from Las Vegas to Palm Springs to impress a starstruck automobile tycoon from Detroit whom they were romancing for an agency franchise. Frank made the trip, and soon after, the Fischettis opened crime syndicate car agencies in several large cities. The Fischettis also persuaded Frank to make a commercial