Lady Blue Eyes_ My Life With Frank - Barbara Sinatra [102]
Monaco went into national mourning, and the public displays of grief lasted weeks. Bobby and I attended the private family vigil and dinner before Grace’s funeral, which was a huge affair. We were shepherded into a cordoned-off area away from the thousands of subjects who lined the narrow streets in searing heat. Rainier, ash gray, walked down from the palace with Albert and Caroline. It was surely the saddest of days. We walked back up to the palace afterward, and when we got there Bobby passed out from the heat. Someone grabbed him and fetched him a chair, and dear Albert looked after him; he was unbelievably thoughtful like that—even on the day of his mother’s funeral.
We knew exactly where the accident had happened, on a steep hairpin bend with rocks alongside the cliff. I asked Bobby to drive me there so I could see where Grace had somehow driven her Rover down a ravine. We got out and saw the marks on the road and knew we were in the right spot, so we left flowers and said a prayer. It was all we could think to do.
Rainier was never the same after Grace died. I don’t think he ever got over it.
We stayed in contact with him because he was so dear to us, but it just wasn’t the same for us either. We went back to Monaco for a few more summers, but it didn’t feel the same in the palace without Grace. She was a woman’s woman as much as she was a man’s woman, a truly special lady. She was so gorgeous and so good, and she handled all her charity work so elegantly, yet she had that fun side to her too. After a few years, we decided not to return to Monaco, and we never did, although Bobby still visits and he and I are now on the board of trustees of the Princess Grace Foundation–USA.
To remind us of happier times in Monte Carlo, Frank created what is still one of my favorite paintings. It is a vivid starburst of oranges and reds and yellows, exactly like one of the chrysanthemum fireworks that ended Grace’s galas. He called it Monaco Boom. For us both, that picture represented some of the best days of our lives. Each time I see it, I think of Frank and I think of Grace and I cannot help but smile.
TWELVE
Out with Henry and Nancy Kissinger, as well as
Greg and Veronique Peck.
COURTESY OF THE NEW YORK DAILY NEWS
I Get a Kick Out of You
Probably one of the bravest things I ever did in my life was to organize a surprise sixty-fifth birthday party for Frank. The man who so enjoyed springing surprises on those he loved did not enjoy being surprised in return.
In the months leading up to his birthday, I’d asked him, “If you could have anything you wanted in the world, darling, what would it be?”
He thought about it for a while before replying, “I’d have a fantastic jazz orchestra and I’d be the only one sitting there while they blow at me.”
I thought long and hard about how I could possibly arrange that and came up with a plan to make a jazz orchestra the finale to a party thrown in his honor. It might not be exactly what he’d asked for, but it would be close. The trouble with Frank was that there was always a risk he’d turn around and walk away. I figured that if our closest friends were there, at least we could go ahead without him. With a guest list of 250, Frank’s party would be impossible to keep secret if I held it at home. It would work only if I held it at the fifteen-acre desert ranch where I kept my horses—the last place on earth Frank would go. Taking my courage in both hands, I decided on a Western-style cookout with barbecue ribs, chicken, chili, and hot dogs. It took me months to get everything ready: the food, the tent off the side of our barn, the decoration of the stables with hay bales and gingham. Sworn to secrecy, Jilly helped me with the entertainment, which was to include the country singer Mel