No stranger in the night

It took the death of an 82-year-old who had been languishing with heart trouble for a year to show the world how boring it has become. From ...

It took the death of an 82-year-old who had been languishing with heart trouble for a year to show the world how boring it has become. From stars who parade motherhood as a fashion statement and dangle countries as causes, Frank Sinatra8217;s death reminded us of a time when stars justified their stratospheric status. He didn8217;t want to save Tibet, cure AIDS patients or even free the whales, though they may be honourable causes. He just wanted to sing and act. And have buckets of fun.

As mean comedian Don Rickles once said of his bruising, brawling friend: quot;Be like Frank. Hit somebody.quot; That8217;s just what he did in a life often measured in bar-room pegs. His appetite for women matched his yen for liquor and tobacco. In fact, in these politically correct times, he would be an embarrassment to the chicly antiseptic stars of today. His list of conquests reads even longer than Warren Beatty8217;s: Lana Turner, Angie Dickinson, Juliet Prowse, Kim Novak, Linda Christian, Gloria Vanderbilt, Judy Garland, Lauren Bacall, AnitaEkberg, Hope Lange, Shirley MacLaine Warren8217;s sister, ironically, Victoria Principal, and Carol Lynley.

And, if you believe Kitty Kelley, even Nancy Reagan. It8217;s amazing that in between he actually managed to star in 50 films and sing in all sorts of places: stadiums, nightclubs, and concert halls. Oh, by the way, he did marry four times too. To Nancy Barbato, Ava Gardner who apparently drank even harder than he did, Mia Farrow when she was 20 and he 50 and since 1976 to Zeppo Marx8217;s widow, Barbara.

For a guy who was born to Italian-American parents in Hoboken, New Jersey, and lived rough in the streets across Manhattan, the thrill of rubbing shoulders with mobsters and politicians 8212; sometimes it8217;s hard to tell the difference 8212; must have been something. Especially since he had trouble keeping track of his affiliations. From campaigning for John F. Kennedy Jr and organising his Presidential gala in 1961, he went on to supporting Ronald Reagan, like most of his country.

Sinatra was not just aVoice with a capital V. He was not just the first pop singer in a tradition that saw Elvis Presley and the Beatles. He was not just a singer-actor who came back from nowhere at the age of 37 to win an Oscar for From Here to Eternity and make No. 1 records. He was a man who was never above suspicion, a character, a survivor. He lived almost the longest of the hard-drinking Rat Pack, with the exception of Joey Bishop. And he believed in making his own rules.

In a world where image is everything, Sinatra, like Rhett Butler, didn8217;t give a damn. He happily befriended countless women even as his first wife Nancy begat him three children, one of whom, Nancy Jr, he often sang with. Sexism was a word he didn8217;t know how to spell. So was propriety. He invited Kennedy to dinner at the same time as mobster Sam Giancana and the former refused wonder why, given that the two shared Judith Exner.

Sinatra was a man8217;s man. Of course, he sang too. Songs that were emblematic of love and loss. Songs that have now becomealmost too familiar and too cliched. Because they were him: Put Your Dreams Away, Young At Heart, All The Way, It Was A Very Good Year, Strangers In The Night, My Way of course, and New York, New York.

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Of course, now that he is dead, everyone will try to sanctify him. But really, Sinatra was quite happy to be considered a nasty piece of work. He threatened the media, bashed waiters over the head and poured drinks down women8217;s bosoms. He also left a 200 million business empire. And sang like an angel. Even now that he8217;s gone, he seems like a recalcitrant Chairman of the Board who never quite knew when to retire. Come fly with him, the last adult in a world of teeny-boppers.