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: El Dago, 35,000 Feet

Apparently The Ol' Chairman is still a kingmaker. First Al, now this kid named Colbert called this afternoon. Maybe you've seen his show. I hadn't before I met him and I don't watch it now. I met Stevie a few weeks before I came back. Jilly introduced us. He thought Steve was funny as shit and usually Jilly's on the mark... usually, but not always.

Anyway, the kid Stevie wanted me to do my come back on his show. He kept askin' and I kept puttin' him off. Finally, I watched a few of his episodes on the Philco in the El Dago. It just wasn't my shot of Jack. No singin', no dancin', no dice. I declined. Apparently he was in a depression for weeks. He started drinking, fucking up his show and becoming a real 18 karat pain in the ass. I felt bad for him. I'd been down that road before, tied to the bottle and my own pity, so I sent him a "Thanks, Sinatra" gold lighter and a note with some tough love.

That's the thing about advice. You can give it to some people and they get it. Others ignore you and then try to ruin your dinner jacket with their tears later. Then there's cats like Steevo. Like I said, he called:

"Talk"

"I'm going to run for President."

The voice was breathless and excited. I thought it was Al just come off the treadmill (or worse, off of Tipper), so I said, "Listen, Al, I told you I'd let you know if and when the time was right. Go put up some windmills or something. Keep yourself occupied."

"No, Frank, it''s Stephen Colbert."

"Little Stevie! How ya' doin' baby."

"Better than the law should allow Mr. Blue Eyes, better than I deserve."

"That's great kid. Get your shit sorted out?"

"Oh yes sir, yes sir. I am completely sorted. I'm so sorted I'm indexed."

"OK, kid, don't try so hard. Maybe have someone write your material for you. No harm in that. You got the delivery down, you're just not a wordsmith. So what's the news?"

"Oh my God you haven't heard yet! Well Frank, you told me to come up with something big, something explosive, something unexpected."

"Enough of the hype kid. I was there. Cut to the car chase."

"I am running for President."

"Ok, ok, that bit might work, particularly for your audience. It's been years since Paulson used that bit, no one will remember. Not bad. Just be sure to hire those writers like I told you to. You could string out the laugh over a few shows."

"No Frank, I'm serious. I'm really running!"

"Sure you aren't still drinking?"

"No sir, I swear on the Constitution, just like I will in January '09, that I'm as dry as the Sahara and that I'm dead serious."

The kid was serious, I could hear it. I was windin' up for a tirade about what a stupid fucking move that would be, but I got to thinkin'. Serious or not, this could be the shot in the arm his career really needed. He'd get a bunch of free PR for sure, and hell, if he won...

"Yeah, so when you tellin' the world kid."

"I did it last night on my show... you really don't watch it do you?"

"Nah, kid. I make pictures, I don't watch 'em."

"Well, the world knows. So, what do you think?"

What the hell, huh? Why not string the kid out a little. Like I said, he might even win. Hell, Reagan won, and he was a washed up, never-was.

"Yeah kid, what the hell. As they say, you can't be any worse than what we got now, right?"

"Are you serious?" He sounded like a little kid on Christmas. "You really think I should do it?"

"Sure thing kid, I mean like you said, you already spilled to the world on the national tube, right?"

"Oh thank you Frank, thank you! And you'll help me, just like you did with JFK?"

"Absolutely Steevo. All the way pally."

"Oh my God and Father. This is incredible! Frank, I'm not just saying this because you're supporting me, but you are the finest representative this country has ever had. You are the brightest star on our precious flag, you..."

"Ok, ok, ok kid. Jeezus. Look, pry your lips off my ass for a second and listen to me. There are a few ground rules you're gonna' have to follow, ok? Here's lesson one in politics. When you get a yes, move on. Don't keep taking out the same loan over and over. Otherwise it'll come back as a no, get it?"

"Yes sir, I'm sorry Frank."

"And here's lesson number two... don't apologize. Apologies are for idiots and bathroom stall faggots. While we're at it, here's lesson three. If you're gonna' do this and have my support, you're gonna' have to listen to me, every step of the way. You fuck up once and I'm out, got it?"

"Absolutely."

"Good. Last but not least, and this is the most important lesson of all... this don't come free. If you get in, you're gonna' have to pay back a lot of markers, understand?"

"If I win, I'll do my best within the guidelines of the law of our great land."

"NO! YOU DON'T FUCKING GET IT DO YOU? YOUR BEST AIN'T ENOUGH!!!" I yelled, then went on, "Jacko said the same thing. You wanna' end up in a Dallas motorcade? No fucking around pal, this is serious. If you can't commit here and now to play ball, there ain't no sense in me setting up your funeral. If you're in, it's all the fuckin' way. So what's it gonna' be pal."

There was a long silence on his end, but it was fuck or walk time. If I was to pull the strings again, he had to know there was gonna' be a bill due at the end and this time, it had to get paid.

I pushed him, "You got 10 seconds kid, in or out."

He waited, then started singing "Hail to the Chief" and did a nice slide into "All The Way" then went on, "Yes, I'm there Frank. I'm going to the White House. I know how to play ball Frank, trust me, and if that's what it takes to get there, well, America needs me Frank and I'm willing to sacrifice even my principles for my country. You can tell your friends that I ain't no JFK. Hell, I'm not even a Democrat!"

"Alright kid, good. You keep campaigning on your show and I'll get in touch with you soon. Don't mention me supporting you yet, you understand? I gotta' get things lined up first." I wasn't even sure how far I'd go with this, but like I said, what the hell.

"I wont Frank, I won't. Thank you Frank. You have no idea how much this means to me. You are truly the world's greatest..."

I hung up the phone while he was still smootchin' my ass. You can only take so much of that, you know? Now I just gotta' figure out how to break the news to Al.

Jesus. Casinos, Sammy G and the boys, a comeback and now this. I am a thing of wonder, aren't I?

Location: Twin Palms, Palm Springs, CA

Al Gore calls me up. I didn't recognize him at first and thought he was Jimmy Bumpus from the booze factory calling about my monthly order of firewater.

"Talk"

"Mr. Sanahtra?"

"Yeah, hey Jimmy, listen I'm gonna' need a couple extra cases this month, things are cooking round here ya' know?'

"Uh, Mr. Sanahtra, this is Al."

"OK Al, same deal. Gonna' need about 4 more cases this month..."

"No, it's Al Gore."

"Al, baby, that movie bust your wallet? Whattya' doing working at Jack's"

He laughs that slow, hillbilly laugh, "Naw, naw, Mr. Sanahtra, I did awright on that felm. Mayde good money onnit, won an Aycadumy Ayward and today, see, this is why I'm callin', today, I won the Nobel."

"Well, good for you kid, listen, I'd love to talk, but I gotta' whiskey order call I'm waitin' on, so if you don't mind..."

"Why aren't ya' usin' the new eye-phone we sent you?"

"It came without buttons Al. Nothing. No buttons, no dials, just a paperweight. You guys really need to put some elbow grease in if it's ever gonna' sell."

Another slow laugh, "Nah, Mr. Sanahtra, ya' need to turn it ahwn. Did ya' read the instructshuns?"

"Instructions? For a phone? Kid, listen, I've been using a phone since Alexander Graham Bell. I don't need instructions to use a phone."

"This one's a little diff'rent, I'll send someone over to show ya' how it works. Your gonna' love it, trust me."

"That's fine Al. Just don't send any of them hippie freaks over here. I ain't Howard Huges, but I gotta' thing with the hygiene."

This one really got him laughing. Still slow though, "I get ya' drift Mr. Sanahtra. You really can make a guy laugh ya' know. But that's nawt why I called. I wanted to tell you that I'm thinkin' about runnin'."

"Yeah, sure kid, whatever, go for it. I hear it's good exercise and you could lose a few rolls my friend."

Laughing, "Huh, huh, stawp it Mr. Sanahtra, please. You're killing me. Too funny. Jus' too funny. Naw, I mean for the party."

"Kid really, if you need a few bucks, let me know. Don't go beggin' for a valet job at my next party. It's just pathetic pal. Let me know how much and The Chairman'll spring. Nothin' to be ashamed of. Even I've been down in the hole before. But I'd get outta' that phone business kid. It's sappin' your bankroll."

"Mr. Sanahtra. I intend to run for Pres'dent of The United Staytes."

"Well, Al, that's a fine way to get back on your feet, but maybe you should start smaller until you get your cash situation squared."

"Rally, Mr. Sanahtra, I'm fine in the money department. I'm sariously considerin' runnin' for the Democratic nomination. Tipper's pushin' me, Steve Jobs is pushin' me. I think I'm gonna' announce my candidacy today at the Nobel press conference I've got set up. I'd rally like to announce your support."

"You want my advice kid?"

"I most surely would Mr. Sanahtra."

"Sit on it. Don't do it, at least not now. You go up there and start blathering on about runnin' for President and you'll lose your shine boy. It'll look like you're just another opportunist. I mean you are just another opportunist, but there's no sense in wearing it like a cheap suit. Get the drift?"

"Uh-huh..."

"Let that black Irish guy, O'bama and the Clinton chick whack each other around for a while longer. You watch, they'll start beatin' the crap out of each other soon and before you know it kid, they'll both look like the worst thing to happen to the country since we elected the chimp we got now."

"He wasn't elected Mr. Sanahtra, he was..."

"Whatever. Don't interrupt me, I'm on a roll here kid."

"Sawry Mr. Sahnahtra."

"Look, this country has only elected one Irish guy and they ended up whacking him, right? You think they're gonna' go for a black Irish guy?"

"Well, he's not really an..."

"And a broad? Forget about it. The people will never go for it and believe me, I know the people. Trust me kid, go up and do your press dance about the Peace Prize, tell 'em you're goin' back to work on behalf of the world, or something airy fairy like that, wait a few months, then I'll tell you if you should run."

"Are you sure Mr. Sanahtra? I mean Tipper, Steve, even Andrea Mitchell..."

"Are you listening to me? You wanna take my advice or the advice of two broads and a hippie?"

"Well you gotta' point there sir."

"You bet your ass baby. Now go make nice with the press, keep 'em guessin' what you're gonna' do. Don't even take questions, just smile and wave. Capiche?"

"Loud and clear Chairman, loud and clear. Hey, thanks for hearin' me out. I've always trusted your political sense. You know, I always wondered why you nevah sought political office."

"Not enough money in it Jack."

"Um, it's Al, Mr. Sanahtra, Al, not Jack."

"Whatever Pal." (Some people just don't get the lingo.) "Oh and don't do the wife kissing thing. People gotta' eat ya' know."

Location: El Dago, 35,000 Feet

You all know that I've been trying to find George Jacobs or a replacement for him. Good help is a real pisser to find and so I'm sendin' my condolences out to Elaine in New York (yes, that Elaine). Seems Tommy, her Limey bartender of more than 30 years is callin' it quits. See the article in The Post here for the full story. Tommy was one of the few who knew how to pour my drink perfectly, every time. Looks like he remembers me fondly too. There's a 'Thanks, Sinatra' gold lighter coming his way.

Location: 1147 S. Wenonah Ave. Oak Park, Il.

As you can tell since I've listed my location, my mini-hibernation stint is over. I'm over at Sam's house, gettin' ready to head back to Twin Palms, but I figured I'd fill you in on how the deal went down.

It wasn't an hour after I last posted that Momo sent word my way that the coast was clear and that I was to meet him at his place. I lit out of Shivaji International like a thief on the run. I landed at Chicago's Midway and took a cab out to Sam's neighborhood, getting off a couple of blocks north of his place. I entered his house through the back basement door and there was Sam, cooking sausages in his basement kitchen, the very same one he 'checked out' in.

"Want some sausage & peppers Frank?" he asked, not even looking up from the pan. The guy had eyes in the back of his head.

"Nah, thanks Sam, I could use a drink, though. Long assed flight."

"Suit yourself," Sam said and nodded his head toward the bar area. I went and fixed myself a Jack Daniel's and then sat down at the folding card table he had set up in his basement for use as a dining table.

Sam pulled up a chair at the table and set down his plate of sausages and escarole. He fell on his dinner like a lion that hadn't eaten in a week, while at the same time, filled me in on the score.

"It's done."

I waited for more, but that's all he said. He just kept on eating.

"Wanna' give me a little more to go on Sam?" He just looked up for a moment, chewing on his sausage, then went back to cutting his next bite. I wasn't going to get any more detail on the 'who, what, where and when', so I figured I wouldn't push it."

After a few minutes he said, "A friend of mine is da' new management at Da' Greek. Dey like dat fake act you hired in, don't worry 'bout dem anymore."

"Sam, I owe you one pally. I appreciate it"

"Frank, you owe me more den one and I got work for ya' to do."

I always hated that phrase. Playing with Momo was like playing with napalm, "I'm all ears Sam," I said.

"Relax Frank, you ain't gotta' whack nobody, Jeziz. You gonna' like dis work." He took a few more bites. Sam was taking his time getting it out and it was killing me. Finally he went on, "I got da' Cal Neva in my wallet too. I want you to be da' face. Front it, own it. Just like before."

Apparently Sam wasn't worried about his house being bugged. We never talked this openly in a building before. It makes sense. Everyone still thinks he's dead.

"I wanna' build a new one too Frank. One in Vegas. You design it, build it, whatever the fuck, just get it up and running. I'll send you da' crew and shit. Don't worry 'bout da cost, just get what you need through dem, but don't hire nobody either."

"Sam I gotta' hire an architect, interior designers, you know, guys you don't have."

"Yeah, ok, you handle that. Have 'em bill you personally. Dat'll be your investment. Once you get what you need from dem, my guys take over buildin' it though. Also, we'll take care of da' employees 'n shit once its done. You be da' face on dat one too. We'll take care of da' accountin' 'n management."

"I'm gonna' need some time, Sam. Especially if I'm running the Cal Nev too. Plus there's a little thing called tellin' the world that I'm back among them, you know?"

"Get it goin' fast as ya' can Frank. Faster. We gotta' get it up and runnin'. There's shit you don't know about, but we're comin' back in a big way. No more linen napkin joints and pinball machines. We gonna' make da' sixties look like peanuts." He looked up still chewing and said, "You wid me Frank?"

What was I gonna' do? Tell him no? Risk being whacked by a guy who technically didn't exist? Hell, technically I wouldn't be missed either, you know? Plus I can't deny it. Getting my hands on the casinos again played right into my dreams baby. So I shook the devil's hand and said, "You bet Sam, all the way."

Location: Another Undisclosed (Still foreign, still warm and sunny)

It's nice here. Can't say where of course, but trust me, its almost got it all, including some dynamite sunrises like this one. No word out of Momo yet and I'm gettin' itchy.

Don't get me wrong, I like this place, hell I've even sung about it once, but it ain't the good old U.S. of A. I got none of my pallies around. The women here aren't quite my cup of whiskey and the accent the people have here is a little irritating, but hey, I'm off again in the morning to another 'undisclosed' location... that is if I haven't got word from Sammy G. by then.

Something he said when I saw him got me thinkin' last night. He said, "By this time next month Frank, I'm gonna' be listenin' to you sing 'Chicago' in my new casino. Ya' gonna' have a piece of it too, just like before. It's gonna' be better then ever and no one will be able to touch us, ever." This is got my wheels spinnin' baby.

Casinos, like broads are my addiction. I love bein' in them, singin' in them and more importantly, owning them. You can't beat the high, it's literally better than knowing a president (and I outta' know, I've known a few), so the idea of owning part of a casino again has got the old grey matter pulsing with new ideas. I hope Sam wasn't just blowin' smoke up my shorts.

Well, I've got a good supply of Jack on hand, enough smokes to take me to next Wednesday, but only enough patience to get me through to Saturday. If I don't hear anything by tomorrow, I may just stir up the dust myself. George, wherever you are... you'da' loved it here pal.

Location: Undisclosed (Foreign, warm and sunny)

Not even mom said there'd be days like these. Wow-ee, where to start boys and girls?

First I want to thank all of my fans and readers who went out to see the replacement act I booked at The Greek. I'm touched by your support. There's a "Thanks Sinatra" lighter to each and every one of you.

Now, on to the big news. Last time we had a chit chat, (or rather when I last spoke and you listened) I was leavin' Sammy's residence at Cedars. Jilly had to swing by his house to get fresh duds so we split up. I was headed back to the Twin Palms.




I'm rarely tired at 4:00 AM, but being under the pressure cooker all of the sudden, made me wanna' give the night a point in the win column. Once home, I headed straight to the bar to pour myself a nightcap.





After killing the Tennessee milk in one gulp, I poured another. That's when I found out I wasn't alone.

"Whatsa madda' Frank? You nervous or somthin'?"

I looked up and near pissed my drawers. There in a chair, not ten feet away from me, sat a dead man and he'd just talked to me.

The dead man giggled at me while I stood as if I was etched in stone. I hate to say it, but Bobby K. was right. This guy giggles like a little girl. It was Momo. Finally I got my wits back enough to start talkin'.

"Either I'm dead, pal or your..."

"You ain't dead Frank. Not yet anyways." More giggling. This was beyond Creepy-ville, baby.

"But Sam, I saw the photo of you, lyin' in a pool of your own blood on the floor. Seven bullets Sam. Seven to the head."

"Since when do you believe evrathin' you read in da papers? You know for a man of da world Frank, you ain't dat fuckin' bright."

"So you walked?" I asked, still shocked.

"No, I gotta' great plastic surgeon... what da' fuck you think Frank?"

"But no one uses photos when they walk. Just a death certificate and a news clipping."

"Not everyone whose a walker's ditchin' the F-fuckin'-B-I and da outfit."

He got up from the couch and walked up to me holding his arms open, almost like Christ. He was laughing again. I ain't scared of much, but this was a bit too much.

"Ain't you gonna show me some respect you fuck, or should I be givin' you your real walkin' papers?"

Yep, I wasn't hallucinating, it was Sammy G., alive and in the flesh. I gave the guy a good back slapping hug. "You sly bastard," I said, "Only you could pull off the greatest escape of the 20th century."

The shock was wearin' off, but I started to worry and wonder. What the fuck did he want with me after more than 30 years? Sam only came around when he wanted you around him and that usually involved walking a razors edge.

"So what's the scoop Sam? What ya' doing back?"

"Pour me a drink Frank." I grabbed another tumbler and poured while he talked, "You in a world a shit right now, ya know Frank?"

I stopped pouring. My nerves were still enough on edge to think he was gonna' clip me.

"Relax Frank. Jesus. If I wanted ta whack ya, you'da looked like my walkin' picture by now." Relieved, I resumed my bartendin' duties while he continued.

"So nigga' Sam went and popped off to "tall, dark and handome" and got 'imself punched for his troubles, and now you's all fucked good. Am I right Frank?"

"Where'd you hear?" I said, handing him his drink. He went to the couch and sat, taking his hat off and setting it next to him.

"I hear everything Frank, you know dat. Whaddaya' fuckin' care? Anyways, you's in dutch but good and I know abouddit. So what, right? So now you know I know, so we're all upta speed on da bullshit and da chit chat. Let's talk business."

Sam's always got an angle. He's got a degree in street smarts. I've dined with Presidents and with Kings. I've met every giant in the business world, but none of them, not a one of them is half as smart as Sammy G. He is, hands down the sharpest person in any room. It's made him wealthy. It's also what makes him deadly. Sharp like a knife and it cuts both ways.

I pulled up a chair in front of from him, pulled a sip out of my drink and said, "I'm all ears Sam."

"When me 'n some of da other big guys walked outta' da life, we put some guys in for us. Ya' know, some markers, puppets, guys we could control no matta' where we was."

I nodded, "Smart."

Sam snapped back, "Nah, it was fuckin' stupid. Deez guys start thinkin' dat they're real bosses, ya' know? But not a one of 'em had a brain between 'em. Dey start makin' moves wit out approval from on high. Eventually we ended up wit da special olympics of our thing and dat idiot Gotti wuz da' capt'n of da team. Fucked da whole thing up real good. Fuckin' talk more then broads dose guys. So membership was down, money went down and all da' power followed da' money. Fuckin' Chinks & Spooks running da' neighborhood, thinkin' they got da' muscle, and for a while they do. Big fuckin' mess. Took us fifty fuckin' years to build our thing here and ten to waste it. We all got fuckin' lazy."

I was curious, "So you're not the only one who's back?"

"Uh-uh, not by a long shot, and don't even think 'bout askin' who else. We gotta' new rule and believe me, da' less you know, da' better. Anyways, let's just say da' brains all got back together and we drove out da' dumb muscle. Almost everybody. No walk outs, only one way tickets for dose bums.

I was starting to see where this was heading. If everything Momo was telling me was true, then he must know the 'quiet guys' who were behind The Greek. I was gettin' hopeful. Cautiously hopeful.

"So that's how you heard about my little predicament," I said.

Sammy laughed, "now ya gettin' smart again, Frank. Keep dis up and maybe we let you run anotha casino. Yeah, dats how I heard abouddit." Then he leaned forward and dropped his voice. "See, the thing is, da' boys runnin' that joint, Da Greek? Dey are what's left of da' dumb asses dat we flushed. Dey figure deys well hid in a little joint, skim some cash and no one's gonna' find 'em or fuck wid 'em there."

"And you intend to show them the error of their ways."

"Give dis man a dolla'. Yeah, they gettin' took down."

"Well I couldn't agree with you more Sam. But what can I do?"

"Nothin'"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I want you to lay low, don't stay anywhere you can be found, become impossible to get a holda'. Find some broad in a foreign country and fuck 'er brains out, whatever. Let dis beef between da' Candyman and da' Crooner stew. Don't tell no one, not even Jilly and especially that dizzy broad Marilyn about it, just vanish. Then, after a couple a days, dos guys are gonna' try 'n put pressure on ya', ya' know, muscle ya'. "They'll threaten everything but ya' socks. Fuck 'em. When dey do, send word back that dey can suck ya' dick, ya' got it?"

"How will I know?"

"You'll know."

I knew it was a mixed blessing that Sam was back. It's always a mixed blessing. This time, there was less of a bless in the mixin'.

"So how long do I let this go on, until I DO get whacked?"

"Nah, nah, nah. You ain't gettin' whacked. Listen, you keep up da' routine like I said 'til I tell ya' udderwise."

"I don't know Sam, this is soundin' like a dangerous game."

"Ya' gonna' fuckin' trust me or ya' gonna' wish it was a game. It's already more than you want to play wit. Look, who ya' fuckin' think shielded you after I walked outta' da' life? You do it my way and we'll all get real well at da end of dis. Ya' don't, and you start to regret ya' came back at all, capiche?"

I nodded, "Yeah, alright Sam. My chips are on you, Pal. Like you said, what have I gotta' lose?"

"Believe me Frank, you ain't got nothin' to lose and everything to gain. I wouldn't have brought ya' in if I didn't think you were da' man for da' plan." He rose from the couch and grabbed his hat. "I ain't gonna' tell ya' anymore for now. Ya' know enough. You'll hear from me when ya' hear from me. Right now, ya' gotta' pack ya' bags and fly the fuck outta' here."

We hugged goodbye and then he said, "By this time next month Frank, I'm gonna' be listenin' to you sing 'Chicago' in my new casino. Ya' gonna' have a piece of it too, just like before. It's gonna' be better then ever and no one will be able to touch us, ever." He headed toward the back door and then stopped and said, "Hey, I almost forgot. Dat butler a yours? George?"

"Yeah, what about him?"

"He wrote a book. Dey gonna' make a movie outta' it."

"That fuckin' asshole!"

"Nah, I heard he was pretty easy on ya'. He kept da' main secrets out of it, even da' one's about King Arthur, which is why George lives to see his movie. He threw in a few lies too. Said you was hung like a horse." Sam started laughing that maniacal laugh.

"Get da' fuck outta' here Sammy," I said laughin'.

He turned to walk out and I said, "Hey Sam. Thanks Pally."

"Leave town Frank." Then he walked out.

And so here I am. In an undisclosed location like that lard ass Vice-President we got. I can't complain, but you know I will. I'm in a place that looks like paradise, even though in reality, I'm limbo. When I think about it, that's pretty much where I've been all my life, somewhere between heaven and hell.

Location: Cedars-Sinai, Los Angeles, CA

I found Sammy at Cedars. Why he went there in the first place is beyond me. I mean, yeah, ok, Dino popped him good, but the hospital? For two days? I told him he was acting like a broad and he needed to straighten up and get his act together, pronto.

He started going on about how Dean needed to see the bigger vision and other babble. I cut him off short.

"Smokey, you're burning my shorts pal. You started this fuckin' mess and you have NO IDEA the ripples your little belly flop caused in MY POND! Your idea had about as much 'vision' as your left eye, Sam. Start using your good glimmer. What on earth made you think for a second Dag would want to work with Jerry? Whatya' blowin' lines again?"

"Francis, you know I'm not. I just thought..."

"DON'T THINK! JUST HIT THE MARK I POINT OUT FOR YOU. GOT IT?

I really wasn't all that mad at Sammy, but I needed to get my point through quick and when it sounded like he was gonna' do the wrong kind of song and dance to anyone who'd listen, I needed to lay the law down.

"You want me to talk to Dino, Frank?"

"No, I want you to send Jerry over to see Dean. WHAT THE FUCK SAM? YES. YOU NEED TO SEE DEAN AND GROVEL! YESTERDAY FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!"

Sammy just looked at me like I killed his mother. That whole hurt look I can't stand. I figured I'd beat up the little guy enough. The sale was made. I didn't need to pound the nail any further. I put my arm around his shoulder and said, "Look, Sam, you know I love ya' like a paisan, and Dean, he was outta' character. He's got his reasons. But you gotta' reign in that over the top Vegas routine of yours and think about what you're doing. You gotta' size up everyone like you size up an audience baby. You don't sing "Born Free" when they wanna' hear "Birth of the Blues", get me?

He nodded.

"Good, now go do your show for Dean and hit it out of the park."

"Frank, what if... and I'm not saying I can't... but what if for some reason I can't hit it out of the park babe?"

I just stared at him for a moment. He was just starting to get it. "Sammy, if you can't hit it, the house is gonna' cut us off... for good."

Location: El Dago, 35,000 Feet

I'm flyin' back from Vegas right now, catching up on some email and wondering how I'm gonna' be the peacemaker in this mess. I gotta' tell you, I'm shocked at how many people are taking sides in this little feud between Sam and Dean. It's even on the web. Someone sent me this link. Scroll down until you see "Dean Martin vs. Sammy Davis Jr.". Fuckin' sick.

Look, this ain't no joke kids. We're talking serious money and serious people. Serious people whose sense of humor ends at the dollar sign, let's not fuel this issue any further, capiche?

I don't have much of a plan yet, but my gut tells me I need to get to Sam first. Dino, no way. Not yet. I'll give him a day or two to cool down while I convince Sammy that it's in his best interest to apologize to Dean. I'll give him the old "be the bigger man" speech and if that doesn't work, I'll threaten to cut him off, completely. He'll obey. He always does. That's why I love him.

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

Well, I'd hoped to be surprising you fans in Sinatra land about a big 'Rat Pack' reunion, but now I'm not so sure. i can't get into the details right now, but it doesn't look good at the moment.

All I'll say at the right now is I had 'em all over to the Twin Palms tonight to start discussing the plans and things got a little out of hand... ok, a lot out of hand. Words were said, punches were thrown, at least this time I wasn't throwing 'em.

Ok, 'I've said too much already. You're just gonna' have to wait until I fill you all in on the gory details later on. Maybe things will have cooled off by then, but I ain't puttin' money on it.

Location: Twin Palms, Palm Springs, CA

The phone rings. So I answer with my usual greeting, “Talk.” A thin high pitched voice is on the other end, I can’t tell if it’s a broad or not.

“Frank?”

“Who’s this?” (I hate it when I have to fucking ask.)

“It’s Spector”

“Ronnie, how’ve ya’ been doll?”

Little known fact: I love Ronnie Spector to death.

“It’s... it’s Phil”

“What about him? Is that asshole fucking with you ag