Frank Sinatra, Jim Bore-ison and That Card Game in the Sky: Could I Get Some More Meatballs Please?

I remember reading some typically long-winded quote from Jim Bore-rison about his main influence being Sinatra. I always had the impression that Morrison must have been a guy who tried to make statements to throw people off: give them what they don't expect. Kind of like a '60s version of Eminem.

I don't know which guy interests me less. It's about even.

In any event, I am sure Morrison thought that the Sinatra reference was idiosyncratically hip. Well, if there is an afterlife, Morrison would never be invited to play cards with Frank, Sammy and Deano. Maybe he could go fetch sandwiches with Joey Bishop. Or maybe he could hold onto Dean's poker hand while he took a leak. But The Lizard King would never be cool enough to actually sit in on a card game with the Man named Frank Sinatra.

My father actually played cards with Mr. Sinatra and Sammy Davis, Jr. If I had a $1 for every time I heard that story in my house, I would be a freakin' millionaire. Frank Sinatra was big in my hometown of Buffalo, New York. Lots of Poles on the East Side. Lots of Italians, Sicilian mostly, who lived on the West Side. It was my birthday this week, and it reminded me of a Sinatra moment.

One year, my birthday present was a new bike. There was a shop run by this older Italian guy on the West Side. The Saturday before my birthday, my Dad and I went to Luigi's Bakery to buy the Italian bread for the week. Then, it was bike time.

(At this point, you're saying - this has to be bullshit - playing cards with Sinatra - an Italian Bakery named Luigi's - c'mon? but how could I make this stuff up?)

We got the bike, a Schwinn 5 Speed Fastback Sting Ray with a banana seat. If I had this bike today, I could get $1000 for it on eBay. It was almost as cool as the classic Deora Hot Wheels toy car.

It was 11:30 and we were hungry. My Dad took me to this place with a little sign. We went in. There were a few tables, a stove in the corner and a hifi with legs. A guy came out and greeted my Dad. I asked to see a menu.

My Dad says: "...there is no menu." Then, an older woman brings me out some bread and spaghetti with some meat balls. I'm confused but I stayed quiet. I mean, how many kids were lucky enough to have actually seen one of those classics much less own one. It was the bike equivalent of a '59 Caddy or a '67 GTO convertible with his 'n her shifters. 'Nuff said.

All of a sudden, I heard the plop of a record on the hifi. As the needle hit the LP, a crowd roared. I heard an announcer say: "And Now, The Sands Hotel is Proud to Present..." Then, there was a blare of horns and the voice of Sinatra effortlessly tackling "Come Fly With Me". Whatever it was my Dad was talking to his friend about, they stopped, smiled and listened to a few bars.

These were guys not distracted easily. Sinatra got their attention.

A guy walked in. No one even turned to acknowledge him. Again, confused, I asked myself, I thought this was a restaurant?

The guy asks: are you open?

My Dad's friend says: "Yeh. Sit down and I'll be right with you." Let's just say this greeting was not what they would be using at Cornell's Hospitality School as an example of the best manners. He waited 15 minutes while the proprietor sat and talked to my Dad. I am really perplexed by this point.

Finally, the guy says: Can I please see a menu?

My Dad's friend replies: "No menu. We have spaghetti, meat sauce, meat balls today." Meanwhile, my Dad's friend is yelling this from across the room in a seated position.

The customer asks: "What about ravioli? I hear you guys make great raviioli"

Reply: "Listen, friend. Spaghetti, Meat Sauce, Meatballs. Are you deaf? Don't you see I'm having a conversation with my friend here. Do you want the spaghetti or not?"

Response: "This is a restaurant, isn't it?"

At this point, I witnessed the restaurant guy get up, walk over to the guy, grab the back of his shirt with one arm, open the door with the other arm, and as he's literally kicking the guy in the ass, yell: "Don't ever come back into my place again, you rude motherf.....er"

At this point, I am completely in Bizarro World. The restauranteur comes back, and they resume their conversation like nothing happened.

Meanwhile, Sinatra at the Sands plays in the background.

I picked that CD up recently. It is one of the best live CDs I have ever heard. That includes James Brown Live at the Apollo, Kiss Alive, Deep Purple Made in Japan (heh - flame me - I don't care - that CD rawks...) among others.

If you don't hear the excitement on that recording, you're as deaf as the guy who got literally booted from that restaurant. What you hear is a guy with a voice that never hits a bad note. And you never mistake Sinatra for having anything but a man's voice. He's funny, completely in command of the crowd and Basie and his band are astonishingly tight on every level. I don't care what kind of music you like, but if you have good taste, you will love this recording almost as much as I loved that bike.

I never got a coherent explanation as to whether that place was actually a restaurant or about what happened that day, but, as they say, some things are better left alone....

See ya next month.

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