Frank Sinatra Books

I was intrigued -- I thought it was an investigative report on Mr. Sinatra's final days (the tackiness of the title notwithstanding), but then I noted from the reviews quoted that this title came out *before* May 14, 1998 (the day of Old Blue Eyes' death) -- meaning this was just a work of fiction. Feh, pfui -- what a waste of my time! I'm interested in *real* books about Frank Sinatra, not fiction! How about someone coming out with a *good* discography?

OK, I picked up "The Death of Frank Sinatra" as an impulse-buy $2.99 hardcover from the "used library books" aisle...so I was pretty much purchasing it by-the-pound...no expectations, other than it was Vegas-fiction and sounded fun.

Now, I feel like I owe somebody. Which is not a good feeling in the hardboiled world Ventura describes so bristlingly.

I have been turned on to a fusion of genres so rich and bountiful, that a full $24.99 pricetag seems only fair. So...if anyone wants to collect the remainder, no pistol-whipping will be necessary.

It's quite simply pulp poetry.

Crackling descriptions of the blood-in-your-urine doings of a Vegas private dick, featuring characters that jump off the page to pin your arms back while kicking your nuts and a geo-real Vegas that resonates with anyone who can "recite" the Strip from the Alladin to the Sahara and whose secret desire is to be buried at the YESCO graveyard.

It's great stuff, and if you've never heard of Michael Ventura, (cause I sure as hell hadn't) you'll soon be saying the same thing I am now..."How the hell is this guy not being read on every Flight 711, instead of Grisham?"

...

The Hamlet-esque mind of Mike Rose is the hook to Ventura's "The Death of Frank Sinatra". His head whirls in the indecision of what he loves or hates and in some cases what or whom is the object of both extremes. The italicized asides in the first person are probably the strongest portions of the book as Rose's wannabe existentialist is continually crippled by loathing for himself, his past, his connections, and perhaps most of all, for Las Vegas which he believes is his puppet master and submissive lover all at once.

Here is the crux of the novel which centers on a private eye who has bathed with and been raised by mobsters but has remained on the edge of the precipice without ever truly jumping in. It is an intriguing dilemma when his unstable brother unwittingly blabs "too much" in front of a grizzled old Outfit veteran, although as with most of the book what is spoken is half said, a half truth and, well, to be blunt, only half convincing. It's all well and good having the circle of insecurity forever turning in one's head, but surely no group of people are as instantly tuned in as Ventura's characters are. It seems half the time that, whoever it is, they are inexplicably able to read their conversation partner's mind, irrespective of intelligence, age or familiarity. What we get is a series of unfinished statements and knowing glances, which doesn't quite wash.

At first, I thought the insight into Vegas, spearheaded by the persona and rep of Frank Sinatra - a nifty touch - was about as illuminating as a travel guide, but without really being conscious of it, the constant bombardment and repetition of the town's warts and all, became quite intoxicating and ultimately revealing. I was less convinced by the insider knowledge of the mob, which seemed to focus on shock value and sensationalism, in marked contrast to the understatement of the book's overall tone. The little nuances that are so prevalent in Scorsese's films, for example, that help to humanize and rationalize are absent for the most part here.

The plot is convoluted and difficult to grasp with several intertwining threads that don't really mesh. However, in truth, most of the action happens in Rose's head, so that's not as disastrous as it sounds. Still, there seemed to be several loose ends that Ventura was content to let lie, which was a little unsettling.

Overall, I felt it was indulgent and melodramatic, teetering on the edge between dark social commentary about an inately corrupt city, and simply incoherent rambling, but the well expressed sadness and stolid, if misguided defiance of the central character, along with the admitted originality of the style was enough to earn 3 stars. Just.

I think Michael Ventura had to use the context of a crime novel to get his story published. However, this novel is really a journey of his own self-discovery. He reminds me of Herman Hesse in the way he constantly enters and exits different doors in his own psyche -- almost at random. The central character, Mike Rose, has a mentally ill older brother. So does Ventura. Avid readers of Ventura's essays know this, and it is very easy for said readers to imagine that Mike Rose is Ventura. If you just want a murder mystery, this won't work for you unless you are particularly daring -- and patient. But, if you like to see someone get to the heart of himself, take a chance. You might be blown away by Ventura's prose. Light reading, this is not, but it is very interesting.

Michael Ventura really knows how to tell a story that's more than just plot or characterization, but also SAYS something. I bought this book, read it right through, and then re-read it in bits right away, just for the enjoyment of it. This is as good as it gets.

Who else but Frank Sinatra could be accused of being a communist and a mafioso at the same time?

"The Sinatra Files," edited by Tom and Phil Kuntz, is a treasure trove for those of us who are fascinated by the fact the FBI kept Sinatra under surveillance for almost five decades, but who were reluctant to sift through the 1275 pages of raw data available on the net since late 1998.

"The Sinatra Files" neatly collects the FBI data into an extremely readible text beginning in the 40's with an erroneous report that Sinatra paid $40,000 for his 4-F draft status, through the early 80's when he was successful in efforts to get his Nevada Gaming license renewed.

Does "The Sinatra Files" reveal anything new?

Sort of.

Sinatra told the draft board in addition to a punctured eardrum, he also had a fear of crowds and elevators....

In the early 50's when rumors spread through the FBI's halowed halls that Sinatra had Communist affiliations, Frank offered to go undercover to weed out subversives in Hollywood (Frank Sinatra as Herbert Philbrick? Give us a break!)

"The Sinatra Files" is worth reading not only for Sinatraphiles who are fascinated with the famous "dark side" of America's finest popular singer, but with the Cold War hysteria that gripped the nation for three decades.

The rare cover photo and sexy title are the best things about this book. It is a VERY dull read. There is nothing shocking here for any serious fans that would actually buy this book. To Summarize: No, there is no evidence that the mafia influenced Frank getting his breakthrough role in "From Here to Eternity," no, there is no evidence that Frank was a member of the communist party, yes, there is some evidence that Frank had some casual contact with members of organized crime (as has EVERY major Hollywood star), yes, Frank and Kennedy partied together. This book is more of an indictment of Hoover's heavy-handedness as head of the FBI. They just kept digging and digging on Frank, but really found virtually nothing. The biggest things they had on him was that he was arrested when he was 22 for having an affair with a married woman, that he initally told the draft board that he was in perfect health and later pointed out that he had a perforated eardrum (verified as true) and a neurosis about being in crowds (unlikely, but unverified as true or false), and that he fibbed about whether Chicago organized crime figure Sam Giancanna was at a show that Sinatra was also at in Atlantic City. BIG DEAL! The lack of dirt here proves what I always suspected, that Frank Sinatra was merely a vicitm of b.s. tabloids and a paranoid Cold-War government. The "Sinatra Files" reveal that Frank was actually a very stand-up guy and great American citizen.

This book is based on a very interesting premise, Frank Sinatra's FBI files. Unfortunately, it is difficult to convert all the information kept on Sinatra into a readable book. Thus, this book is not one you will sit down with on a Sunday afternoon and read. Its really more of a "browser" book. If you are looking for specific information (Frank's mob connections, relationship with JFK, etc.) then it is an excellent resource. Its by no means a biography.

I feel that the book is for serious Sinatraphiles like myself. If you have just a passing interest in Sinatra, I'd recommend a biography or something along the lines of "The Way You Wear Your Hat" by Bill Zehme. However, if you've devoured book after book on Sinatra and still want more, this will be a valuable addition to your library.

I agree that Julie Sinatra ( she changed her name Legally to Sinatra) is a sympathetic person , almost immediately you feel her genuine kindness and sincerity. You also can't help but wonder why it took her until her late forties to start to examine her obvious abusive childhood and her mother's bizarre behavior.
She does look like The Sinatra family, and i tend to think she really is Frank Sinatra's daughter, however as a book i didn't find much of it plausible in fact, all of her evidence is circumstantial and she is a bit too sugary regarding the father she never knew.
When writing his family she consistently calls them sisters or brother, she puts herself at the head of the line in terms of wanting what's best for "her father" as she calls him to everyone new and old in her life.
Her life was sad. Pitiful really with a mother and a son she has had difficult relationships with. I would like very much to have had some kind of real evidence or to hear another side of the story.
The entire book is about Julie trying to be acknowledged by the Sinatra's and how much care and concern she had for her dying father and how awful it was that she never got to meet him when he was alive.
Its a bit curious that she so naively writes to them really expecting that at this stage of the game, Frank Sinatra barely alive then, his children in their fifties, that without any kind of proof , with the exception of some stories her mother told her, that they would deign to look further into this.
why should they? it stands to reason that there must be a zillion children who could claim their mom slept with frank sinatra and they are the fruit of that union.
You simply cant take DNA testing for everyone that pops up to claim some part of Frank Sinatra.
I think Julie got what she wanted, the right to use his name, a book , and some gigs ( she's a guess what? singer!. ) As the book went on i became increasingly tired of her long lament about how the Sinatra children, lawyers, Barbara Sinatra et al wouldn't acknowledge her.
As for just reviewing this as a good read, it isn't. Its the story of someone who never had a parent love them, who never really found herself in this life but who it appears maintained her sense of innocence.
I hope Julie has found her niche being Julie Sinatra.

This is a sad story by a lost child, in a world flooded by lost children. How ironic that's she's the daughter of a man who gave so many millions to sick and handicapped children the world over. Forget whether you love the man as a singer, or hate him for his tough guy image; this is a poignant story.

Having said that, let me say thanks, Julie, for writing this book. I am one of the former group who has loved your father as a singer since 1964, coincidentally the same year the Beatles overwhelmed us who were teenagers then. Yes, I loved rock and roll, but I was completely overwhelmed by your Dad and his music.

Two friends and I went on to collect all of his older music, and anticipate each new album as it came out. We saw him live almost a dozen times. One time we were stage side at a supper club outside of Chicago. A woman came up behind us to offer him a bouquet of flowers. Right above us he reached out for the gift and she grasped his hand, momentarily pulling him off balance. I remember a fleeting expression of panic on his face as he almost toppled over on to our table. He recovered and made a comment something like "I love you too, baby", and the audience loved it.

There was nobody quite like him, and I still play the music, now on CD. Julie's book puts a human face on the man and the family. I imagine celebrities are always besieged by people wanting something, and all of us protect our elderly parents, so the family's reluctance to acknowledge (or look into the possibility of) another sibling is, I suppose, to be expected. Plus the rich always have people sucking around them.

Give it to Julie for almost immediately establishing herself as a sympathetic and sincere individual just looking for her father. It somewhat reminds me of Rod McKuen's book called "Finding My Father" from about 25 years ago.

Kitty Kelly is KNOWN for her profiting from the pain of others. Here again, just like her other hilarious books, she writes nothing more than a long version of a gossip article you might find in the National Inquirer or Star magazine. Facts are all wrong, even the bad things about Sinatra. She fabricates over and over, almost all of the "facts" are either fabricated or embellished. She's a wacko. She profits from fiction and in a very mean way. There are plenty of good books about Sinatra that are fairly accurate. This is the worst one ever written.

Admittedly Frank Sinatra had an extraordinarily rich and interesting life, but one much too full of details for a single book. So in this rendition of his life, the reader is left to ask the question: how many, hook-ups, breakup, screw-ups, jam-ups, and mob-ups can a story have before it goes well past being well-told, into a whole other zone of being just plain incoherent gossip?

One would think that of all people who should know where this mark in the sand lies, it would be Kitty Kelly? Yet, in this biography, Kelly, who is normally so good at culling the low hanging fruit from the rumor mill and gossip trees and turning them into a tasty and sometimes even a succulent wine, this time, gets it so wrong. She seems to have fouled up the fermentation process altogether and gone well past coherence into a whole new zone of vinegar, all the way past Go into complete incoherence.

There are just way too many repetitious unnecessary details, vignettes, spats, breakup and irrelevances to make this a well-rounded, coherent and interesting story. Some of the details, which after a while just start falling all over each other, simply should have been relegated to footnotes, mentioned in passing, or left out altogether. In the interest of "tightness" and coherence, Kelly, more than anyone, should know that more is not always better. Sometimes unorganized details in a manuscript can overpower the story. As is the case here, they cannot even be tamed by forcing them into a "Procrustean Bed" of the author's own making. Kelly knows, all to well that details must be sorted, selected and ever so carefully placed so that through organization alone, they are allowed to tell their own story. Here, it seemed that Kelly, just as she accuses her subject of doing in the manuscript, allowed her own enthusiasm to get well ahead of her keen sense of organization and storytelling. What a pity: so much material, so little time.

Despite this, one can reassemble this jigsaw puzzle of "way too many pieces" into a mosaic beneath the clutter to get at a reasonable psychological portrait of Frank Sinatra, and still be able to see that he was pretty much handicapped at birth: Accidentally misnamed; an only child; collar-flowered ears, a busted eardrum, skinny and slight of stature. Add to this that he had only a smattering of talent, in a heavily male dominated culture and you get at an early age, a personality blanketed with deeply rooted insecurities.

But these were nothing compared to the "trip his mother put on him" to heighten these congenital insecurities. She was overbearing and over-protective, dressed him like a girl and spoiled him. And then, as this his most powerful role model and ally through life, provided him a very poor example of adult humanity. Dolly Sinatra was the dynamo of the family: the matron and breadwinner, who cursed in technicolor, always dabbled over the edge of legalities, including being jailed multiple times for running an illegal abortion clinic, and for her prohibition era Speakeasy activities. The fact that Frank's father was present, but missing in action: a virtual "nobody" who deferred to his mother, pretty much sealed his psychological fate: Little Frankie had no chance of evolving into a normal well-balanced adult.

What Frank Sinatra had going for him was a very contradictory self-destructive kind of self-confidence spawn mostly out of fantasy and denial. It was one that bordered on unwarranted arrogance, fits of uncontrolled anger, depressive spins, hovering on the rim of immorality and illegality, and leaving him with an empty emotional reservoir. Throughout his life he was little more than an insecure bully with an average voice. Yet he used bullying to his advantage, and as a weapon to "club his way" through life.

And as life would have it, after many inevitable "ups-and-downs," failures and come backs, shattered and scattered love affairs--especially with Ava Gardner -- he became a raving financial and professional success, but an utter moral, personal and human failure. End of story.

Five stars for the research, two for the organization; three for the book.

This was evidently meant to be a commentary on the life and hates of Frank Sinatra. It was probably meant to be quite a character study - connect the dots between all the revolting facts coldly listed here and you find a revolting human being. If the dots don't quite come together, as they didn't for me, you find a rather different connotation. The solemn quote at the beginning delineates the difference between reputation and character. Ms.Kelley, being the all-knowing Author, gets right into her examination into Mr. Sinatra's character behind the reputation with a cold first chapter related in frankly impossible detail. From then on Sinatra is shown to be callous, pathetic, weak, vicious, brutal, abusive, crude, egomaniacal, vindictive, and quite possibly crazy in an overwhelming documentary that seems very fond of the two words "Sinatra screamed" and any reference to any weakness known to man that Sinatra allegedly possessed. In a cold, stark, very nearly cruel style interviews with disgruntled former employees, wives of friends, gangsters, yes-men, Hoboken tattle-tales, discarded girlfriends, two-bit comics, technicians, and the slimy Peter Lawford are all displayed in 633 pages of rot. The skeletal overview of Mr. Sinatra's life is almost frighteningly calculated - any unscrupulous writer can pick and choose to their heart's content while still remaining truthful, and Ms. Kelley could write a book about her inimitable art of relating only the least flattering information and blaming her digustingly biased view on outraged virtue.
Every character in this organized assasination, as a matter of fact, appears to be a good little human being, abused and cruelly rejected by Frank Sinatra, doing their sad duty to let the world know Sinatra done 'em wrong. Appears. Ms. Kelley apparentely agrees with them. Their sympathetically related tales are the backbone of the biography.
I have no idea how Kitty Kelley and several other Sinatra biographers are so blind that they have never been able to locate one positive Sinatra review in their life. In this book, if no bad review exists for a movie, record, concert, TV show, ect., it is either ignored or used to promote another example of bad behavior backstage. I know all the good reviews exist. I've read them, and it always surprised me because according to Kelley and other pick-and-choosers the perfomance was lousy. But this is not about a career, it's said; it's about a life. Then why mention any reviews at all?
If all the names mentioned in here actually said Sinatra was an awful person, I just might believe it. But they didn't. The uncomplimentary comments used are in any other source buried in an avalanche of rave reviews and praise. Ms.Kelley, of coure, the St. Bernard of literature, sniffed them out. Ava Gardner's autobiography paints a very different portrait of what she felt about Mr.Sinatra than the few harsh statements here. Lauren Bacall's "By Myself" is so often negatively interpreted it's ridiculous, and Ms. Kelley joins the long line of misinterpreters. Rare comments by Frank Sinatra Jr., Sammy Davis and others are gleefully repeated, despite the fact that their opinions about Mr.Sinatra are almost always positive to the extreme. No famous friends of his were interviewed, simply because people who genuinely loved him went as high as the summit of upper-class Hollywood, nobility, and the White House, and that was the type of thing Kelley wanted least. I read an interview in which Ms. Kelley supposedly said she didn't find Sinatra appealing because he had no sense of humor. Ha. There has never been anyone with as little humor about them as Ms.Kitty Kelley, executioner of reputation, fabricater of character. The sense of smug gloating, the nasty smirking of the authoress over Mr.Sinatra's discomfort at having so many people read this trash and BELIEVE it, is the only humor evident, and that makes me sick. Even if every statement were true, I'd still have a certain sympathy for Frank Sinatra, because, as it eventually becomes clear, you learn less than nothing about what Sinatra was really like, but you learn a great deal about the writer. The Sinatra story displayed is all probably untrue reputation, but Ms.Kelley's scheme for hurting him backfired - her character is evident. The preface says,''Reputation is what men and women think of us; character is what God and angels know of us." True.

I'm only writing this review because there are those who think this book contains the "truth" about Sinatra. Think about this, someone who doesn't like you much decides to write a book about you, they find all the people throughout your life that hate you, you have had fights with, don't speak to anymore, or you just don't really like. They ignore anyone who has good things to say or your long time friends and family. They interview them and write the book containing all their quotes, stating its factual, after all people did say these things - right!! Now think about how that would make you look, would it represent the truth about you- i don't think so. This is pure unadulterated garbage, from a twisted viewpoint and not worth the paper its printed on. Did Sinatra have some dark moments, i guess so - but this is not the place to find out about them.

This is a lengthy look at the shadows in Sinatra's personality, and is not the one to read if you are interested in how he developed his approach to singing so well. Frank appears to have been a victim of what we now call bipolar disorder, back in the days when no effective medications existed for it except alcohol and nicotine. He sank into scary depressions, and soared into wild bouts of manic activity, exhibited both grandiosity and generosity in excess, supported violence against his enemies and often uncritical acceptance of his friends. He grew up with a passive dad and a forceful but not likable mom, was a spoiled child who sometimes was a victim of discrimination due to his Italian heritage, and developed such an intense drive to be successful that he frequently drove away the people who might have been best for him. Upon finishing this gossipy yet apparently truthful biography, I didn't want Frank as a friend, but I didn't give away any of my dozen CD's, either. Sometimes one has to divorce the artist from the person in order to remain a fan.

This book is a fun ride. However, if you've read a lot of celebrity bios, you'll be turned off, as I was, at how MacRae appropriates various anonymous and ancient showbiz stories as her own personal experiences.

For example, she has a lover defending her to a foe by saying, "What she has, you used to have. And what she has, you can't spell." Nice line, but it's from a movie.

The whole book has a goofy, made-up quality - even more than the usual Hollywood autobiography. Rather than trying to paint herself as the innocent waif (as June Allyson tried to do in her autobiography), MacRae bends over backwards (a-hem) to sex up her image.

With a huge grain of salt, it's a fun, juicy read. And I wouldn't trust one word of it as far as I could throw the publishing house.

The pictures in two photo sections tell the whole story of Gordon, Sheila and family. I have selected some interesting items about Hollywood instead of the typical movie couple in the Fifties. He made four movies with DoDo Day: "Tea for Two", "The West Point Story," "On Moonlight Bay," and "By The Light of the Silvery Moon." She was a bit old for the perrenial boyish MacRae. They were asked to pose for an Easter Seals poster with some 'handicapped' children. She refused on religious grounds that she was a "Christian Scientist and they don't believe in cripples." (Hear that, Wink M.) Gordon was insulted and cursed this Girl-next-door character "She's giving my religion a bad name." Oh well, in her older years, she always had to be filmed through a special filter to obliterate her wrinkles and aging process, the big phony. I loved Gordon in "Carousel" and "Oklahoma." He was fabulous and such a good singer.

Movies are tricks of the eyes and the makeup artists. There's a quirk in how we see that allows a series of still pictures to spring into motion. In pursuit of that optical illusion, fortunes have been made; lives devoted to it, and some ruined. The trouble was if you couldn't tell what was 'legerdemain' and what was 'real,' (magician from the magic); Sheila appeared as the magician's assistant and eventually got to know all the tricks.

They were in Hollywood during the blacklisting and has some interesting things to reveal about the prophetic Ronald Reagan. Also, when she was named as "Mother of the Year" her marriage was a shambles and they were on the verge of a divorce. Sounds like Debbie and Eddie, a typical Hollywood couple. Of all her affairs, I was shocked that Frank Sinatra was one! She had moved here from England and kept a tinge of the British accent; I guess that's what intrigued him as I don't think it was her singing. She was pretty and talented during the Sixties, but after the divorce, things went downhill for them both. Such is life, but especially for the woman.

"Oh, by the way, I was once married to ...."; now can I tell ya all about my life?" There. Do you feel like reading this superficial analysis of a Hollywood marriage run amok? I didn't think so. Typical, feminist retro-look at the past when Sheila was a part of the dinner club circut power couple come unglued. Trivializes the highs(1950's),depicts the 1960's as the rise of a multi-talented what, dancer/singer, when groups were in vogue?Granted, survival was key here, but I wanted to know more about the golden-voiced Gordon MacRae and what became of his gifts that, among other things, launched her. Not to be. Ended up being about as interesting as a Matt Helm bedroom farce,with the reality glossed over and the reality of what once was unrevealed.

I have always enjoyed reading a celebrity's autobiography and Sheila MacRae's was no exception. Having been born long after the success of MacRae's famous husband, Gordon in 1960, I was unfamilar with his films as well as Miss MacRae's credits as an actress. Through this autobiography, I read with great interest as well as great sadness, over a man and woman who were deeply in love, but destroyed by Gordon's alcoholism and excessive gambling. The bright spots are MacRae's close friendship with Lucille Ball, some revealing insight into her friend Cary Grant's love life, and the Hollywood parties attended in their heydey. After reading the book, I emerged an admirer of both Sheila and Gordon MacRae.

Derek Jewell's style of writing may be appealing to some, but to me he leaves much to be desired.
Pros:
-Almost no detail was overlooked
-1/4 of the book is an index
-useful for book reports
-well arranged
Cons:
-Written in a breathy style where there is no good place to stop
-hard to concentrate on, hard to keep reading
-facts were boring
-could have used more opinions or quotes
-hard to pick out information for projects
-small print

FRANK SINATRA was one of the greatest entertainer of the previous century.While he made many movies, it's the singer that will be remembered best.The skinny guy who caused riots at the PARAMOUNT theater had a legendary career spanning more than fifty years.The story of his ascension is well documented;it's interesting to hear of the way his three arrangers each worked with him in a different way in his great CAPITOL days ,who with the new compact editions will remain big sellers for many years to come.While DEREK JEWELL talks about the controversy always associated with FRANK, he manages to keep in perspective the important facts and let aside the gossip which can get unpleasant ,since we all know FRANK was not an angel.It might not be the best book about him (there are so many available now),but it does the job accurately.Anyway,the legacy of THE CHAIRMAN OF THE BOARD are the records.We are now fortunate us music lovers to choose in the collection what we like best about him ,and there are many treasures.

ROJEK IS BRITISH AND OBVIOUSLY A LEFT-WING ACADEMIC WITH DEFINITE IDEAS ABOUT THE DANGERS OF WHAT HE SEES AS THE ALLIANCE OF AMERICAN GOVERNMENT AND CORPORATE INTERESTS AND ABOUT HOW SINATRA ULTIMATELY SERVED BOTH IN HIS QUEST TO BE REGARDED AS A 'MAN OF RESPECT'- A MAN WHO IS ABOVE OTHER MEN BY VIRTUE OF HIS SINGULAR TALENT AND WHO USES HIS POWER AND INFLUENCE TO SERVE THE COMMUNITY.
HE SEES SINATRA'S RUTHLESSNESS AND FEROCIOUS AMBITION LURKING BEHIND HIS EARLIEST IMAGES. HE DESCRIBES HOW HE SAW HIMSELF IN THE SICILIAN TRADITION OF THE SELF-MADE MAN INSPIRED BY UPSTART ITALIAN-AMERICAN HEROES IN THE FORM OF THE CASTELLAMARRE MOBSTERS WHO DEFIED CONVENTION AS WELL AS THE LAW.
SINATRA NEVER IS COMFORTABLE WITH HIS CELEBRITY SINCE IT NEVER BRINGS HIM THE RESPECT OF THE BRAHMIN UPPER CLASS AND REMOVES HIM FROM HIS HOBOKEN STREET CORNER ROOTS.
THE READERS OPINION OF ALL THIS WILL OBVIOUSLY BE TIED TO THEIR POLITICS.
THROUGHOUT THE BOOK ROJEK REMARKS ABOUT HOW AMERICANS ARE INTROSPECTIVE ABOUT THE WORLD AND THINK AMERICA IS THE BEST HOPE OF MANKIND. WHAT THE AUTHOR APPARENTLY CANNOT DO IS TO SEE AMERICA AS IMMIGRANTS DID - A LAND OF OPPORTUNITY, OF SELF-INVENTION. HE NEVER POSITS AN ALTERNATIVE MODEL SOCIETY BUT YOU CAN READILY IMAGINE IT WOULD BE SOME SORT OF EUROPEON SOCIALIST CONSTRUCT WHERE OF COURSE A SINGER REGARDLESS OF HIS MUSICAL GENIUS WOULD NEVER REALIZE HIS MAXIMUM POTENTIAL AS A CELEBRITY POWER BROKER AND FIXER.
(ROJEK HIMSELF IS LIKELY QUITE CONTENT AS A TENURED PROFESSOR AND CULTURAL THEORIST WORKING IN THE SHELTERED GROVES OF ACADEME WHERE HE SEES HIS PURPOSE AS GUIDING YOUNG MINDS ALONG WHAT HE REGARDS AS THE RIGHT PATH. HE ADMITS THAT HE WAS ASTONISHED TO FIND THAT HIS STUDENTS VIEWED SINATRA IN A FAR MORE FAVOURABLE LIGHT THAN HIS OWN GENERATION. THEY REGARD HIM AS AN AUTHORATATIVELY MASCULINE ROLE-MODEL, AN INDIVIDUALIST WHO'S MOVIES AFE COOL, FUNNY AND IMPORTANT INFLUENCES.)
IN THE END, THE AUTHOR SEES SINATRA'S WORK FOR THE CIA AS THE ULTIMATE PROOF OF THE HIS THESIS.
AS A POST SCRIPT, I MUST OBSERVE ROJEK'S FAVOURITE SINATRA RECORDINGS HAVE TO BE 'IN THE WEE SMALL HOURS', 'WHERE ARE YOU','NO ONE CARES' AND 'ONLY THE LONELY'SINCE HE MENTIONS THEM SO OFTEN. WHAT THIS SAYS ABOUT HIS OWN EMOTIONAL MAKE-UP ONE CAN GUESS. HE HAS LITTLE INTEREST IN THE UPTEMPO ALBUMS.

I am 79 and still remember Frank Sinatra singing at the Paramount, his pinkie ring caught in the spotlight. Most of the people upon whom Sinatra left a memorable impact will be in my older or the preceding generation. For us, the miniscule typscript makes reading what is probably a series of fascinating essays very difficult and uncomfortable, and of all the books in creation why did it happen to this one?

To all those reviewers who didn't like Donald Clarke's five-star book, get your heads out of the sand, or wherever else they are. All or Nothing at All is outstanding on America, politics, gangsters, Sinatra, his music, his family, his friends, enemies, and more.

I'm rereading it now. It is marvelous!

One thing I'm happy about is that I didn't pay full price. What a waste of paper and cardboard. There's nothing new in this book, nothing you couldn't find elsewhere. It's actually written in the first person, believe it or not, as evidenced by the not so infrequent "I never liked such and such" or "I found it to be." After a while, who cares? And evidently, the author didn't rate either a first rate editor or a fact checker. For example, there's no "e" after the "g" in judgment. He does this repeatedly. Moreover, for someone allegedly so well-versed in the entertainment industry, he's apparently rather ignorant of some basic knowledge. When discussing Reagan's inaugural parties planned by Sinatra, Clarke mentions "someone named Ben Vereen who performed in blackface", and then trashes Sinatra's "judgement" in arranging such entertainment. Uh, Mr. Clarke, Ben Vereen WAS black, he couldn't help BUT be in blackface!

You get the feeling reading this book that Donald Clarke sees himself as a far more noble and heroic character than some mere mortal like Frank Sinatra. Clarke has taken self-righteousness and developed it into something approaching an art form. A waste of time, a waste of money, a waste of paper, glue, ink, and whatever else was needed to print this "biography". By the way, give the word "biography" the loosest interpretation possible. Donald Clarke has even less of a clue as to what the word "biograpy" means and his book is the best evidence to support my thesis.

Frank Sinatra was always a puzzle -- he sang like an angel, behaved like a jerk, and yet was apparently an extremely generous individual who kept his many charities secret.

Donald Clarke sits with all the contradictions of Sinatra, both musical and personal, without attempting to simplify them. The reviewer below who complained that the book is like an extended essay is right. Clarke does not attempt, in this relatively slim volume, to write the definitive biographical work. It is instead a shrewd, opinionated, and often funny review of the man and his music.

I'm not a FS fanatic, but I do own about 40 or 50 of his albums, which I guess makes me more than a casual fan. I almost always agreed with Clarke's musical judgements (although I think rather more of "Live at the Sands" than he does) and found a lot of value in the way he attempts to separate Sinatra's own bloviations from the facts (e.g. was Mitch Miller really responsible for how bad much of Sinatra's mid-50s work is? Not really, says Clarke, and gives reasons for this opinion).

This book is not a replacement for a full-length biography -- if you want the details on who slapped who first in every fight he had with Ava Gardner, you'll have to go elsewhere. It's also not a replacement for an annotated discography, although it made me hungry for one -- I thought I had a pretty good handle on Sinatra's recorded output, and Clarke made me realize there's a lot I don't know.

As for Clarke's writing style, I say "bravo." Judging by the impish grin he's wearing in the jacket photo, I'd say he's well aware of how provocative some of his comments are, but there's nothing arrogant about this book. Clarke has his opinions, and states them very strongly, but it's clear the reader is welcome to his or her own. If you're the sort of reader who is secure enough to enjoy strongly held and amusingly stated beliefs rather than be upset by them, I recommend this book most highly.

Mr. Clarke's "book" is really more of an extended ( and poorly written ) magazine essay. However, I'm not sure what magazine would publish it ( surely not the NEW YORKER or DOWN BEAT ). Clarke never sheds any light on Sinatra's upbringing, personality or musicianship. Not for a moment do you feel either the man or his music come to life. There are literally dozens of examples of his amateurish writing; in one amazingly idiotic passage ( page 132, 3rd paragraph ) he states that the title of Sinatra's famous album "SONGS FOR SWINGIN' LOVERS" has become "mildly irritating" (!). He goes on a moment later to ask whether "swinging" was a euphemism for suburban wife swapping (!!). No one should shell out $$ for this type of drivel. By the way, Mr. Clarke, if you're amusing yourself by reading this review in between writing your "books"; I DIDN'T buy it ( thank God I merely checked it out of the library! ). To concur with some of the other reviewers: regarding the music, try Will Friedwald's "THE SONG IS YOU; A SINGER'S ART" or Charles Granata's upcoming "SESSIONS WITH SINATRA". For an extremely well-balanced, thorough account of Mr. Sinatra's life, try Randy Taraborelli's "SINATRA: A COMPLETE LIFE". For a short but poignant essay, try Pete Hamill's "WHY SINATRA MATTERS". For a famous account of Sinatra c.1966, try Gay Talese's essay entitled "FRANK SINATRA HAS A COLD" ( available in the FRANK SINATRA READER ). Other short but informative passages on Sinatra have been written by Shirley MacLaine and Mia Farrow ( I forget the exact titles of their books ). As far as Clarke's volume is concerned, it only ranks slightly above Kitty Kelley's stinker; in other words, it deserves a spot deep in the bowels of Dante's inferno.

The author presents an interesting premise, but I have to question the accuracy of his facts. There were some very basic errors that would have been caught with even the slightest amount of research. For example:

He states that Sinatra's first big band gig was with the Henry James Orchestra. It was in fact, the Harry James Orchestra. I realize that Harry is a nickname for Henry, but no one has ever referred to him as Henry James.

He say that Sammy Davis Jr. started his career with his uncle's trio, "The Will Martin Trio." It was in fact, the Will Mastin Trio.

The author claims the Desert Inn in Las Vegas was run by Cleveland mobster Moe Daltz. His name was actually Moe Dalitz.

These were not just typos, but were repeated several times in the book. You have to wonder how much effort he put into checking his facts.

This is another conspiracy theory book involving Frank, Ava, Marilyn, The Mob, The Kennedy's, and the rest of the Rat Pack. The problem with this book, is the author's assertions that he personally received his information from them. He provides no proof that these conversations actually took place. The reader is to believe the author's words only. To make matters worse, there are incorrect facts, names and dates throughout this book. And sadly, the people involved can not refute what was written.

Just about everyone agrees that Sinatra is among the most talented singers of popular songs and many of us think he was a far more accomplished serious film actor than is generally acknowledged. (I can think of at least a dozen films in which he delivers a brilliant performance. For example, From Here to Eternity, The Man with the Golden Arm, The Manchurian Candidate, and The Detective.) The quality of his art as a performer is not in dispute. Rather, it is Sinatra's personal life which continues to generate so many differences of opinion. I was attracted to Munn's book because it claims to provide "the untold story" of Sinatra's relationships with the Mafia, John and Robert Kennedy, Ava Gardner, and Marilyn Monroe. Although much of that story had been told prior to the first publication of this book in 2001, Munn explains that he "resorted to researching as few books as possible" because he never intended to write a full-scale biography. In fact, what he offers consists almost entirely of what he claims to have obtained during dozens of interviews, notably of Gardner.

Other reviewers have duly noted the book's easily-avoidable inaccuracies (e.g. the Henry James band) and sloppy editing (e.g. countless redundancies). My rating is more the result of problems I have with Munn's credibility. He was not an eyewitness to most of the Sinatra behavior which serves as the book's focus. Moreover, he asks his reader to trust him completely when sharing what eyewitnesses (again, notably Ava Gardner) allegedly told him. Did they know what they were talking about? Are their accusations verifiable? Is Munn their messenger or their interpreter? If the latter, how reliable is he? I am also curious to know why Ava: My Story (1990) is not listed among his "Selected Bibliography and Sources." According to Munn, Gardner was the single most important source for the material in his book.

Think about various components in Sinatra's life: the Mafia, the Oval Office, the F.B.I. and C.I.A., Hollywood, the Bogart Rat Pack and then the Sinatra Rat Pack, Las Vegas, Ava Gardner, Marilyn Monroe, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis, Jr., Mia Farrow, Fidel Castro, Richard Nixon...conspiracies, assassinations, vast wealth (mansions, private jets, etc.), countless awards, non-publicized philanthropies...just about everything needed to write a full-scale biography of one of the most interesting and (yes) enigmatic celebrities in our contemporary culture. It is possible but unlikely that the author of that biography will find much of unique value in Munn's book. I know that I didn't.