Frank Sinatra remains one of the 20th century’s most enduring and enigmatic icons. His voice defined an era, his presence commanded stages and screens, and his life off-camera fueled endless fascination. While countless articles chronicled his career, Gay Talese’s 1966 Esquire profile, “Frank Sinatra Has a Cold,” offered a uniquely intimate, albeit challenging, glimpse into the Chairman of the Board’s world. Despite Sinatra himself refusing to be interviewed – hampered by a common cold that famously disrupted his work and mood – Talese crafted a masterpiece of observational journalism. This exploration delves into the multifaceted persona of Frank Sinatra, drawing upon Talese’s remarkable insights gathered while reporting that seminal piece.
The Unapproachable Star: Talese’s Challenge
The genesis of Talese’s legendary profile was rooted in an assignment from Esquire editor Harold Hayes. Initially reluctant, feeling Sinatra was already over-exposed, Talese accepted the task, part of a contract deal. The plan involved access facilitated by Sinatra’s press agent, Jim Mahoney. However, Sinatra, battling a cold just before his 50th birthday and preoccupied with film work, publicity surrounding Mia Farrow, a probing CBS documentary, and an upcoming NBC special, was unwilling to participate directly. This refusal became a central pivot for Talese. Unable to interview the main subject, he embarked on a month-long immersion into Sinatra’s orbit, interviewing what he estimated to be “at least a hundred” people – friends, employees, associates, and onlookers – to paint his portrait.
Renowned journalist Gay Talese stands with one of his signature shirt-board story outlines, used for pieces like his Frank Sinatra profile.
Sinatra’s World: Power, Loyalty, and ‘Il Padrone’
Talese quickly discerned the intense dynamics surrounding Sinatra. He observed a circle defined by fierce loyalty, bordering on the dramatic. Actor Brad Dexter, who had saved Sinatra from drowning, confessed to Talese, “I’d kill for him,” a statement Talese felt captured the “All the Way; All or Nothing at All” ethos Sinatra seemed to demand. This loyalty, Talese noted, was rooted in a “Sicilian” aspect of Sinatra’s character, demanding absolute allegiance but rewarding it with immense generosity and personal kindness. Talese saw this dynamic play out, describing Sinatra simultaneously as a “swinger” among showbiz peers and “Il Padrone” – the boss, the man of respect – among his closer, often Italian-American, confidants like Al Silvani or Ed Pucci.
This generosity, however, existed alongside a volatile temper. Talese recounted anecdotes illustrating both extremes: Sinatra personally overseeing the complete refurnishing of a musician friend’s home after a tragedy, yet angrily throwing a catsup bottle at an aide (Pucci, Talese later confirmed) for bringing him a hot dog with the condiment he apparently detested. Another story, sourced from Brad Dexter, involved Sinatra casually mentioning his jeep needed painting, which snowballed through his staff into an urgent, overnight command, only for Sinatra, when asked for approval, to tiredly profess indifference about when it got done. He was unpredictable, a man whose reactions could swing wildly.
The Hairpiece and the Details
Talese’s meticulous observation extended to personal details often guarded. He learned about Sinatra’s use of hairpieces – specifically, owning sixty maintained by a dedicated woman earning $400 a week – from actor Richard Bakalyan, who even provided the caretaker’s number. Talese noted Sinatra’s immaculate dress, the contrast between the conservative suit cut and flamboyant silk lining, and even shoes shined on the soles. These details contributed to the larger-than-life, carefully constructed image, yet Talese’s reporting pierced the veneer.
A page from Gay Talese’s original manuscript for the iconic Esquire article ‘Frank Sinatra Has a Cold’.
Confrontation and Control: The Ellison Incident
One of the most telling encounters Talese witnessed occurred late one night in a Beverly Hills club’s poolroom. Sinatra, nursing his cold and drink, became fixated on the “Game Warden boots” worn by writer Harlan Ellison. What began as seemingly innocuous questions (“Those Italian boots?”) escalated when Ellison responded tersely. Sinatra, with an “arrogant swagger,” confronted Ellison, criticizing his attire. Ellison stood his ground, leading to a tense exchange where Sinatra dismissed Ellison’s screenplay The Oscar as “a piece of crap” (despite it not being released yet). The scene, fueled perhaps by Sinatra’s illness, boredom, or inner turmoil, showcased his intolerance for perceived slights, his need to assert dominance, and the ripple effect his moods had on his entourage, like the anxious Brad Dexter. Ellison, Talese noted, would likely remember the brief encounter for life, just one of hundreds who had unexpected “scenes with Sinatra.”
The Private Sinatra: Family and Vulnerability?
While Sinatra cultivated an image of the “fully emancipated male,” Talese’s reporting hinted at deeper complexities, particularly regarding family. He maintained cordial, even warm, relations with his first wife, Nancy Barbato Sinatra. Talese described Sinatra visiting her home, occasionally sleeping on her sofa – a place Nancy Jr. later recognized as one of the few spots he could find privacy. Despite leaving the family home years prior, Sinatra remained deeply connected, insisting Nancy Sr. consult him on decisions and readily placing his furniture in her home or Nancy Jr.’s.
His bond with daughter Nancy Jr. appeared particularly strong. Talese recounted the emotion evident when Sinatra sang “Nancy (With the Laughing Face)” during the troubled NBC taping – a moment where the “public arrogance was gone,” revealing a private side. Nancy Jr., who Talese eventually interviewed, provided insights into Sinatra’s sentimentality, his complicated childhood drive for attention, and the subsequent lifelong lack of true solitude. Talese also touched upon the dynamic with Ava Gardner, suggesting Sinatra learned painful lessons about pride and vulnerability when his career dipped while hers soared. Dolly Sinatra, Frank’s formidable mother, confirmed his loyalty (“You cross him, he never forgets”) but also his complexities, revealing tidbits about his upbringing and maintaining her own fierce independence despite his fame.
The Performer: Perfectionism and Pressure
The infamous cold directly impacted Sinatra’s work during Talese’s observation period, highlighting his dedication and volatility as a performer. The taping of the NBC special, Sinatra — A Man and His Music, was fraught with tension. Sinatra arrived pale and unwell, immediately upset by the stage setup. His frustration boiled over when technical issues arose, leading him to lash out at the director, Dwight Hemion. Despite moments of brilliance, like the rendition of “Nancy,” his voice cracked, ultimately forcing him to halt the session, declaring the footage showed merely “a man with a cold.” The cancellation sent ripples through his staff and the industry.
Conversely, when Sinatra returned healthy for a recording session for his Moonlight Sinatra album, Talese witnessed a different man. In the studio, Sinatra was “in ecstasy,” the room “electric.” He commanded the orchestra, knowing musicians by name, joking between takes but utterly serious about the music itself. Talese quoted Sinatra (from another source) emphasizing the solitary responsibility of recording: “If it’s bad…it’s you who’s to blame… If it’s good, it’s also you.” A poignant moment occurred when Sinatra gently advised longtime French-horn player Vincent DeRosa against pushing his daughter into a singing career without first getting an education – a subtle glimpse of paternalism and perhaps weariness with the industry’s demands, delivered with quiet authority.
Author Gay Talese in his basement writing bunker, the workspace where he crafted many famous profiles including the Frank Sinatra piece.
Conclusion
Gay Talese’s “Frank Sinatra Has a Cold,” born from journalistic necessity when direct access was denied, ultimately provided a richer, more nuanced portrait than a conventional interview might have yielded. Through the eyes of those around him and Talese’s own sharp observations, Frank Sinatra emerges not just as the Chairman of the Board or Ol’ Blue Eyes, but as a complex tapestry of contradictions: immense talent and power juxtaposed with insecurity and temper; profound generosity alongside demands for absolute loyalty; a man who craved connection yet guarded his privacy fiercely; a perfectionist performer battling human frailty. Talese captured the aura, the control, the simmering tension, and the undeniable charisma of a man who, even suffering from a common cold, could command the attention of the world around him. Decades later, the insights gleaned from that unique reporting assignment continue to illuminate the enduring legend of Frank Sinatra.
