Location: Twin Palms, Palm Springs, CA

I just sent my 'girl of the moment' home with Jilly. I prefer to sleep alone. She was a cute girl... Karen, I think her name was. Anyway, not my type at all. Of course I didn't say anything like that to her when Jimmy Van Heusen brought her by. You never do that to a woman. Particularly the kind of woman Karen is, if you get my drift. These ladies deserve respect and rarely get it. They work hard and it's a difficult, dangerous and thankless job.

Anyway, she and I had dinner, listened to some music, sat out by the pool and watched the sun set. I slipped her $500, a signed photograph and the phone number to an agent who'll take care of her and get her the acting career she really wants.

Speaking of people who work hard, I just read this article about Aretha Franklin. She put out a collection of her duets throughout the years. Her favorite one? I'll give you three guesses and you better get it right on the first one. Yes sir, her favorite is the one she sang with The Chairman himself. I'm touched, absolutely touched.

This lady's got power, real power, just listen to her. She could sing a tax return with feeling. Even though everyone knows her name and she's a true star, she deserves to be an even bigger star than she is. Aretha truly is the Queen of Soul as only a queen could ever really touch my soul. Buy her album, for yourself and everyone you know. Again, I don't make requests, just do it.

Location: Twin Palms, Palm Springs, CA

OK, so I'm back at the Twin, but the adventure ain't quite over. Apparently the Christian Evangelic network is up and running. As Jilly and I pulled up to the house, we found we had a welcoming committee.

They apparently had enough time to make the cute little signs, but not enough time to get a crowd together to join them, there were only two of them. What made it even more pathetic was no one was around watching their little protest.

Jilly surprised me by putting the car in reverse. At first I thought he was backing up to leave. "What, you turn coward on me all the sudden?" I ask him, but as soon as the words are out of my mouth, he throws it into drive and floors it... steering right at the little protest group.

There's good news and there's bad news. The good news? The two Jesus protestors scattered, screaming like little schoolgirls. The bad? Judge for yourself:

Jilly slammed the car right into one of the trees lining the driveway. Another two inches and we'd be pulling Jesus freak pieces off the grille. So after the dust cleared and while checking out the damage to my car, Jilly looks over at me and says, "You know, for someone who's supposed to be the Anti-Christ, you sure are having a lousy day."


"Nah," I said, snapping the above picture. "I'm having a great day Jilly."

"How do you figure, Frank?"

"Easy. I'm gonna' go inside and take a hot shower, mix myself a drink and play 'dial-a-broad' while your out buying me a new car."

I started walking towards the house, then stopped and turned back to him. "Oh and Jilly, a T-Bird, a new one. Loaded. In silver."

"But Frank, they don't make them anymore..."

I waved him off as I continued on to the house. He'd figure it out. Sometimes it's good to be The Chairman.

Location: New York, NY

The Bird is revving up in LaGuardia. I'm in "get outta' Dodge... fast" mode. Besides, I've got a recording session with the muppet and his cheerleader bride in the morning (go here if you are confused). As you might have guessed, Thanksgiving didn't go quite as planned so I thought I'd fill you in on it while we're waiting for the clearance to flap our wings west.

You'll remember from yesterday's post that I'm a big believer in charity and helping out your fellow man, particularly this time of year. I'm not one to preach and not practice, so I went down to one of the the local shelters to help out with their annual Turkey Day Dinner. I wanted to work in the kitchen, so I could help out while at the same time keep a low profile, particularly since I haven't made my return known to the general public yet.

After the usual "Aren't you dead?" comments were dispensed with and autographs signed, they let me head up the kitchen... which was a mess when I got there. Nothing was organized. I can't work in mess and chaos (unless I created it). I got there just in the nick of time.

There were the usual types working there, particularly of the religious persuasion. What struck me was all the different religions that were represented. I'm used to seein' the good sisters from the Catholic church show up, but this time, there were also some Jews, a few Muslims, a Buddhist monk, some guy who said he was a Zoroaster (he didn't laugh when I asked where was the "Zo" he was going to "roast"... some people have no sense of humor.) and about 4 or 5 Christian Evangelical types. Despite that it looked like the makings of a good joke, I thought to myself that this is how the world should be, right here in this little kitchen.

My new kitchen crew got clued into the fact that not a word was to be said about my appearance there, and after the initial shock of meeting me, they all settled into the swing of the tune I was conducting. All of them that is, except the Evangelicals.

You know me, I'm a live and let live kind of guy. Sure I got my opinions, but a man has a right to live the way he wants to in my book. Not so with the Evangelicals. I've never seen a group of people so obsessed with what other people are doing or how wrong they think other people are. You think the Pope is quick to judge? These guys will have you in hell before you say hello to them. They think they're God's own Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval committee.

I shouldn't have put them in the prep area with the Jews. Not 10 minutes after we started, a shoutin' match began. The Jews insisted on usin' kosher salt. So what, right? The Evangelicals were muttering shit about the Jews under their breath and before you know it, there was a shovin' match, with the Evangelicals yelling "Jesus killer" at the Jews. Jilly and I separated them with the help of the Buddhist Monk (who knew they were so tough?). The Muslims didn't even look up from the bread they were rollin' out. Who could blame them? They really didn't have a dog in this fight if you think about it. Besides, they're a hell of a lot more peaceful than they get credit for... at least more than the rioting Evangelicals I had in my kitchen at the moment.

Anyway, one of the Evangelicals Jilly had ahold of looked at me and said, "It ain't natural. You're dead. You've been sent here by Satan. You've come to bring the hell you live in, here to God's earth. You're the anti-Christ!" That was it for Jilly and the Monk. Out went the Evangelicals, head first, into the back alley.

Once everything settled down, and I'd convinced the Monk he'd done no harm to his Karma, I got everyone back to work. In no time, the place looked like the White House Galley. In fact, I got it so organized that we were ready 2 hours before the doors opened. So I made myself a turkey sandwich and took a ten minute break (rare for me).

We ended up serving over 1,000 people and Jilly and I got out in time to have Thanksgiving dinner catered from Patsy's in a private room at The Waldorf. I invited the whole crew from the kitchen along with a few friends in town. I had dinner clothes brought in for everyone except the Monk, who wouldn't accept on religious grounds or something.

We had a great time and I'll admit, I got a bit soused. After dinner, everyone was gettin' too quiet, with all the booze and food settling in, so I thought I'd do a little entertainin'. I remembered a trick of physics I'd learned when I met Einstein before he ducked out in the '50's. So I stood up, had everyone stand back from the table, then grabbed the table cloth and...

Yeah, yeah, don't laugh too hard. Albert the genius couldn't do it either, but it got a good laugh and put everyone back in a good mood. Just then, one of the Jews called me over to the window, "Mr. Sinatra, I think your secret is out." I looked out the window and my jaw dropped the 16 floors to the ground.

Jesus Christ that thing must have been 10 stories high. What's worse is there was a crowd gathering around it too. At first I thought it might have been the Evangelicals getting one back at me, but I then realized, they ain't got the kind of smarts it takes to pull off a caper like this. Besides, this was a pretty flattering piece of signage. Jilly, paranoid as ever, suggested that we hot foot outta' there before it started getting too crazy. He was right too, we barely got out of The Waldorf in one piece, even with a police escort.

So the word's out I suppose. I'm gonna' rap this up for now and catch a few Z's on the flight back. I gotta' feelin' I'm gonna' need all the beauty sleep I can grab.

Location: Twin Palms, Palm Springs, CA

OK, call me paranoid, but I'm a little worried. I was down in Tijuana last week for reasons I wont go into. I'm on the highway, got the windows rolled down and my new CD spinning on the stereo. I got about a 2 hour drive back to the Twin Palms, so I light up a nail. There's not a better combination then a summer evening, nice breeze, a Thunderbird with the soundtrack of my voice. If you haven't done it, you wouldn't understand.

Anyway, I'm blowing through San Diego and I'm finishing my smoke. I flick the butt out the window. No big deal. Done it a thousand times. I hate having a car full of ashes an cigarette butts, so I never use the ashtray. The way I see it, the world is my ashtray.

Now I'm at home, watching the news coverage and I'm startin' to feel guilty. Jilly called and told and let me in on it. He said, "California's on fire!" I thought he meant that the new album is selling, but he straightened me out on that score, so I switched on the tube for the first time in weeks.

I mean, I'm sure it wasn't my cigarette that started it all, but then again... I can't stop thinking that maybe, just maybe. Nah.

Location: Cal-Neva, Lake Tahoe, NV

I don't know if you've heard the news yet, but Joey's gone. Jilly gave me the word while I was taking a tour of the Cal Nev (first time back in over 40 years... its a mess). I'm not sure if he's really gone or just walked away from the life. I don't think he's really gone, if you know what I mean, but I'm having it looked into. The guy never walked before, so I don't know. Either way he picked a hell of a time to blow.

I know the ruckus between Smokey and Dino a week or two ago really put a strain on him. I know it had to be exhausting work to keep the torch alive until we all came back, so I don't fault him for walking... for a while. So Joey, if you're reading this, the "Church of Cool" can't function without it's Bishop. You're the hub of this big wheel we got here. Take a week or two if you need it, but get your ass back asap. Don't make me come lookin' for you.

Location: The Greek Isles, Las Vegas, NV

I flew into Vegas a few hours ago to cancel the surprise performance dates we had at The Greek Ilses. I'm trying to book some talent to cover the dates I booked a couple of weeks ago. As of now, the reunion's off, kaput, Ends-ville. It's a pisser of a mess.

So I got quite a few emails regarding the fracas we had last night at the Twin Palms. I guess no more harm can be done in spillin' the details now. Here's how it went down:

I set up a meeting for last night. It was gonna' be Me, Dag, Smokey and The Bishop. No Lawford (which shouldn't surprise anyone in the know). I told everyone to be at the Twin Palms early, around 11:00 PM to discuss a new project and to keep it on the hush-hush.

All the boys were up for it, even Dino, which surprised me a little. We'd had a short falling out during our last go at a reunion (a story for another time).

So I had my secretary Gloria stock up the bar, get a photographer, and hire the catering. Chester was on hold in case we decided 'entertainment' was required. Jilly arranged security. Jack Entratter, who's silently backing The Greek, was gonna' phone conference in around midnight. We were set for a summit baby.

Sammy show's an hour and a half early. It's predictable. The guy's all juice... enough energy and excitement to make a puppy dog look boring. What can I say? Smokey's my kid brother.

Joey shows at 11. On - the - dot. That's Joe. Perfect timing in everything. The three of us start pouring drinks while we wait on Dean. Sammy's all over me about the details of the plan, "Is it a movie, Leader? An album? Come on Francis, spill it baby. What's the score?", but I wouldn't budge. I told him we gotta' wait for the Dago before I start handing out the details.

It gets to be about 11:30 and Sammy is on his third round of interrogation when Dean shows, more like he 'appears'. I'm telling ya', that's one quiet club singer. We didn't even notice him until he said, "So what's a guy gotta' do to get a drink around here Pally?"

"Dago!", I said, giving him a big hug. "On time as usual, ya' prick. You wanna' J&B?".

"No, but a B&J sure do sound good about now", he said laughing.

"We don't serve your kind here, buddy. You're lookin' for Boys Town" I joked. "Hey, you'll never guess who's been emailing me to death."

Dag waved his hand over his shoulder as got himself a drink. He didn't want to hear it. We all get settled and I start to give 'em the lay of the land. I started right in, "Except for Joey here, we all checked out of the life a long time ago. I don't know about you, but I got bored."

Joey chimes in, "You think YOU got bored... Frank, please, with all due respect, walk a mile in my shoes, will ya'?"

Dino, not missing a beat, "Now, now, Joey, you know Frank don't wear no cement shoes."

We all break out laughing at the old joke and Joey kicks right back, "No, but I hear he's had a few pairs made."

After the laughter dies down, I continue, "That's what I want to talk about boys. Look at the chemistry we got in the room and we haven't performed together in almost 20 years."

Dino looks at his empty glass and says, speaking of chemistry, I'm in need of a refill." He gets up to get a new drink and says, "don't let me stop ya' Frank, I can listen and pour at the same time."

I go on with the plan, "I wanna' do a whole new stage act. A whole new Rat Pack. New routines, new jokes, new songs, the works. I want to do it at The Greek Isle."

Sammy, surprised, "Excuse me Frank, the what?"

Dino, settling back in with his drink, "I bet I can get all the B&J I want there."

Joey, sounding a little concerned, "Frank, why not a premier joint? The Greek ain't Caesar's you know."

"I know that Joey,", I reply, "I don't even want to advertise it at all. It'd be too easy to just publicize it all and pack the crowds in. Too easy to walk into Caesar's like conquering heros, but the fact is, we wouldn't be conquering heros, we'd just be like every other act in Vegas, trading on our past. I wanna' go at this with some integrity. I want our act to succeed on word of mouth. This time, I want to work without a net."

"Yeah, that Annette, she sure no fun on da' stage... but backstage..." Dag jokes while lighting a smoke.

"So what do ya' say Dean." I ask laughing. "You in?"

"Yeah, sure Pally. It ain't like I got a whole lot goin' on right now, being 'dead' and all."

I turn to Joey, "What about you Joey, you up to it?"

Joey scratches his chin in mock thought, "Let's see, let's see... obscurity or Vegas, obscurity or Vegas. Um, can I buy a vowel?"

I laugh, "Good-O. Sammy?"

"Give me the word Boss, I'll be there."

I sit back in my chair and say, "Good, well the first date is this Sunday, if we want it. I say we go on raw, just hit the stage and roll on the first show. We can build the act from there."

Sammy, looking concerned, I swear he almost raised his hand to speak, "Ah Frank, we may have one little problem, but I think I got the solution. In fact, I think I got a brilliant solution."

"Shoot it, Smokey." I say. Its a benevolent dictatorship I've got going here after all.

Sam's obviously excited, leaning forward in his chair, "OK, ok, here's what I'm thinking. When we first got together as an act, we were a 5 man act and we were rehearsed. The second time around, we were a 3 man act and we were rehearsed, but Dino couldn't go the distance..."

"Watch it, boy," Dino said, looking up from his drink and only half kidding.

Sam, undeterred continued, "no offense my man, but ya' left, whatever your reason, that's in the past, here's what I've got..."

Dean got up to get another drink while Sam went on, "we work best as a 5 man outfit that's rehearsed. Frank has already put the order down that we ain't rehearsing at first, no PR and we're a foursome."

I start feeling a little tension in the room as Sam spins his idea, "whatcha' drivin' at Sam?"

Sensing my impatience, Sam says, "I think we should bring in a 5th guy."

"If you're thinking about that pervert Laford pal, you've..."

"No, no, no, Frank. Not Peter."

Even Dean's getting impatient at this point, "For God sakes Sam, the show starts in 48 hours. Who?"

Sam answers, "Actually, you know him Dean. You've even worked with him already... Jerry."

At this point, Dean ain't looking like the lovable guy you all know from the TV. Leaving his drink behind at the bar, he walks up to where Sammy is sitting, gets right in his face and says, "I didn't hear you back there Sam. For a minute I thought you said Jerry. Tell me you said, 'Larry'."

Sam, ever the salesman, stands up, puts his hand on Dean's shoulder and starts to sell his Jerry idea, "Dean, listen to me baby. This is a dynamite move."

Dean shrugs off Sammy's hand from his shoulder and says in a near whisper, "you outta' your fuckin' mind?"

"Look, Dean, babe, you're great when you've got someone working with you. You're the world's greatest straight man, but let's face it baby, a straight man ain't funny without..."

"Without what," Dean said, flat and monotone, then again, louder, "Without what?"

"Without a funny man, Dean. Look, you're among friends here baby. Everyone knows you're not as funny without Jerry. It's no big thing, it's just the way God almighty laid it out. You need Jerry to play off of and he'd be a great replacement for Peter." Then Sam turns to me and says, "whaddya' think Frank?"







Sammy barely got the 'k' of my name out, when Dean did the unthinkable. He right hooked Sammy, square on the jaw. Sam went down like a $20 hooker. He was out cold. Dean had blind-sided him good, taking advantage of Sammy's glass glimmer.







Dean walked out of the room, grabbing his glass off the bar. Joey and I, still in shock, checked on the Candyman. He'd be ok, but it was going to be a hell of a lump for a while. The photographer just stood there with his jaw draped over his shoes. I snapped him back to life and told him to go get some ice for Sammy. I caught up with Dean in the living room.

"What the fuck was that about you stupid fuckin' Dago?" I yelled at him.

"I gotta' explain it to you Frank? Of all people? You didn't hear what the president of your fan club said in there?" Dean said, still steaming.

"So you go hit the guy? On his blind side? Over that? What the hell's the matter with you?"

Dean looks at me, straight on and says, "I'll tell you what Frank. I got an idea for a 'sponsor' for our little reunion. His name's Howard Hughes. I'm sure Ava told you all about him a couple of times."

My blood went from room temperature to south of the border instantly. I was so fucking pissed, I was speechless.

Having made what he thought was his point Dean opened the front door, then turned to me and said, "you just think about it Dago and get back to me." Then he walked out, slamming the door.

I stood there, clenching my fists at my sides for what must have been a half hour. Just stood there, staring at the door, seething.

Then the phone rang and brought me out of my coma.

"Talk"

"Hey Frank, its Jack Entratter. Sorry I'm late calling in. Hope I didn't miss anything."

"You at The Greek now?" I asked.

"Yeah, why?"



"Stay there. I'm flying out. I'll be there in 3 hours." I hung up the phone and Jilly and I were off to the airport.



3 hours later, I met Jack at the casino bar and gave him the story.

"Dean?" he kept asking. He was as amazed as I was.

"Yeah, go figure. I don't know Jack. Maybe 60 years of Jerry being hooked to his name finally broke the dam."

"Dean? I can't believe it."

"I know, but what are ya' gonna' do?"

"Well, I'll tell ya Frank, we got a bit of a problem now. The 'quiet owners' of this joint were counting on this show of yours. There's a lot of money that was gonna' go their way. They're gonna' be pissed. We gotta' make this right."

"I know, I know. Don't remind me. Look they gotta' understand what happened here was beyond anyone's control."

"Frank, we're not talking about telling the teacher about the dog eating the homework here..."

"I know what we're talking about Jack. I get it, ok?

"We gotta' do something. You gotta' talk to Dean."

I'm getting really irritated now, "You wanna' try and get him on a phone? I'll give you a million cash right now if you can get him on the line." I reached over and the bar and grabbed the house phone and put it in front of him. "Jack, he ain't gonna' talk to nobody right now. Trust me."

So there we sat. Two guys who were totally fucked, staring out at the bar and looking at a permanent check out from life, just when we both were getting our hooks back into it.

After a few minutes, Jack said, "OK. Here's what we're gonna' do. You find a replacement act for this weekend, promote it on that website of yours, tell everyone you know, endorse the hell out of it and get asses in seats. Then you gotta' make this shit right between you, Dean and Sammy. I don't care how it's done, just do it."

"So what are you gonna' do in the mean time Jack, bang cocktail waitresses? Come on, you wanna' help out a little here?"

"Hey Frank, I'm gonna' go see the boys and explain things to buy you time. You wanna' trade jobs with me?"

"I get your drift pally. Fair deal. How long I got?"

"At best? 2 weeks, but I'd get it done as fast as you can. You know these guys."

"That I do, Charlie" I said with a sigh as I got up, "that I do."

Who'd a thought when you come back, you come back all the way, huh?

Location: Twin Palms, Palm Springs, CA

After my dinner at the In N Out. I didn’t want to risk replng the whole Mia fiasco, so I killed about 4 hours swinging by the smaller joints along the highway. Around 3:00 AM, I did a drive-by at my own house (talk about ridiculous) to make sure she and her 10,000 little indians hadn’t come back.

I was in the clear. The lights were on, but no busses or cars. An empty driveway never looked so good. I figured Jilly must have come back and left the lights on for me before he went out for his usual all night horizontal tango. All was well.

As I got closer to the front door though, I heard music coming from the inside of the house... my music. Some chick’s voice was singing along, poorly. Under any other circumstance, this would’ve brought a smile to Ol’ Blue Eye’s face, but I’d had a day of days already and wasn’t looking forward to another ambush. I decided to be a little more 007 about going in, so I went around back, up to the sliding glass doors to peek inside. There she was, drunk on my carpet and singing “Love and Marriage” at the top of her lungs and in three keys.

She rolled over and looked up at me as I entered the glass doorway.

“Frrrrannk! Whadaya’ doin’ here?”

She tried to push herself up from the carpet, but landed back on her mink pillow with a giggle. Yep, she was a pickled herring.

“Marilyn, let me call you a cab. You aren’t even supposed to be out, ya’ know. Someone’s going to see you.”

At this point she starts stripping off her dress. Marilyn always does this. It wasn’t always a sexual thing for her, more a reaction or second nature thing to her. Some people wave, some people hug, some people shake hands. Marilyn strips... then fucks.

Location: Twin Palms, Palm Springs, CA

While Jilly’s at work in the lab, I pad over to my office to fire up the laptop. Holy Mother of Christ! 147 of them email things! 147 of them! I was touched at first, but then I started sifting through them. There’s some real loons out there.

But the ones that really gave me the laugin’ gas were the emails I got from people claiming to be people in my life. Here’s a rundown of some of the more popular ones:

Sammy D - 9 different people

Dino - 17 different people

Lawford (please!) - 6 different people

Skinny - 3 different people

Mia - 3 different people

Ava (I gotta’ real problem with this one) - 5 different people

Jerry Lewis - 12 different people

Ok, so the 12 from Lewis could be real. He can be a real pain in the ass like that, which is why for years, he never had my real number. He’d call all the time to either suck up or figure out if Dino was around. That guy was like a broad when it came to Dino. It bugged the shit out of Dag, so I quit telling him about it. Then it started bugging the shit out of me too. That’s how I ended up buying out a block of numbers that I never used. They were listed in my name, but there wasn’t a phone on the other end.

Location: Twin Palms, Palm Springs, CA

I thought about swinging over to the house in Beverly Hills at 915 Foothill Rd. (you know, the one I “checked out” in), but then I remembered, Barbara would be there. Love fades. Which reminds me. I need to get in touch with my legal witch doctor, Mickey. Anyway, I really hated that house. More “Wop-Gaudy” than Mid-Century.

So I ordered the pilot to flap over to Palm Springs International. We were out of booze, out of broads and out of smokes. I was itchin’ to land and get freshened up while I got reacquainted with my favorite pad, the Twin Palms. Crazy times there baby, crazy times.

So after getting off the plane and driving to “home swingin’ home”, we pull up the driveway and there is this horrible friggin’ racket coming from the back of the house. Thankfully, I picked up Jilly earlier in the day, ‘cause when we went around back, we found this:

They were everywhere. On the roof, in the pool, in the yard. IN MY BED!!!