Lady Blue Eyes_ My Life With Frank - Barbara Sinatra [130]
Frank sometimes commissioned paintings of others he cared for and gifted them to the subjects afterward, although he did keep a few for himself. Not long after we were married, I decided to do something about a painting of Mia Farrow that hung in the master bedroom. Digging through my old photographs, I came across a large black and white poster of Zeppo, had it framed, and placed it prominently on my nightstand. “What the hell’s that?” Frank asked when he saw it.
“Oh,” I replied innocently, “I thought this was a nostalgia room.” Frank said nothing, but Mia’s portrait vanished the following day. And so, of course, did Zeppo’s.
Art was a bond Frank had with many people, even the most surprising. When Bono came to our Palm Springs home, I worried that the forty-five-year age difference between him and Frank, as well as their different styles and musical tastes, might not make for a perfect match. We’d first met the lead singer of U2 when Frank was doing a show in Dublin a year or so before. Everyone at the theater was very excited when they discovered that the members of U2 were in the audience, and the promoters asked Frank to meet them backstage. Frank wasn’t pleased and asked, “Well, who the hell are they?” But when the band came to meet him, they completely won him over. They were charming, and I especially liked the Edge, who had a great sense of humor. An hour into Frank’s set, he told the audience, “Now I’d like to introduce someone everyone’s been talking about.” He looked down at Bono and added, “I’m told that you’re very important and you make a lot of money, so will you please stand up and take a bow?” Bono stood up, and there was applause, but just as he was about to sit down, Frank added, “You know, since you’re so important and you make so much money, why don’t you invest some in your wardrobe?”
I needn’t have been concerned about their second encounter, at the Compound. Bono came to Palm Springs to appear in a cameo role in the video of Frank’s song “L.A. Is My Lady.” To Frank’s delight, he discovered that Bono was a fellow artist. Thus began a special friendship. Those two singers sat side by side at our bar talking animatedly about the virtues of oil over acrylic, the interpretation of abstract art, and the use of color. It was a joy to watch. Later, Frank took Bono to his studio and showed him a painting he’d just finished, a vivid yellow swirl of concentric circles. Bono loved it and asked if it had a name. “It’s entitled Jazz and it’s yours,” Frank said, taking it off the easel and handing it to him. Bono was thrilled. Later during his stay, in a Mexican restaurant where we all drank margaritas, Bono performed a ballad he’d written for Frank called “Two Shots of Happy, One Shot of Sad.” Part of the lyrics went:
I’m just a singer, some say a sinner
Rolling the dice, not always a winner
You say I’ve been lucky, well hell I’ve made my own.
Frank thought that was just great.
The following year, when Frank was nominated for a Grammy Legend Award (one of the highest honors the recording industry offers any artist), the organizers asked Bono to present it to him. Flying to New York from Dublin, Frank’s new best friend penned his speech, which still, to my mind, sums up my husband the best. Bono stood almost shyly on the stage of Radio City Music Hall and told the audience, “Frank never did like rock ’n’ roll. And he’s not crazy about guys wearing earrings either. But he doesn’t hold it against me in any way.” He went on,
Rock ’n’ roll people love Frank Sinatra because Frank Sinatra has got what we want—swagger and attitude. He’s big on attitude; serious attitude; bad attitude