Frank & Ava In Love and War by John Brady

Continuing my study of mid-century American pop culture in preparation for "The First Teenager," I turn my attention to Frank Sinatra.  As a good friend of Sammy Davis, Jr.- or maybe a frenemy; I was looking for more of the sex and devil worship stuff but this book was more conventional in its treatment of those themes.  It has to admit that Hollywood stars jump in and out of bed with one another, but it doesn't go much further; much less admit that they led us; those in the larger society- into that lifestyle.  And it didn't take them long to do it.  Look where we are now- the Vatican thought Ingrid Bergman and her director's affair was the worst thing to happen?  Really? 

Where are we now?

All I knew about Ava was that she was from North Carolina, everybody always says how incredibly beautiful she is, she wasn't really a student of acting but turned in some great stuff: I love Night of the Iguana- and she's always one of the better things about any picture- she could sing but didn't sing in the movie Showboat- but did on the soundtrack (weird!) and that she loved sex.  Seriously, every single article says how beautiful she was and how she loved sex.  There's got to be more to her than that.

But I still don't know any more.  Well, I don't feel as if I got to know her.

It's amazing to me that Red Dust and Mogambo; it's remake were both with Clark Gable.  And do I think I would know Ava or Jean Harlow any better if I read whether or not they bedded CG?  What are these biographies for any way?

I bet Mickey Rooney research would be a good next place to go.  I have a hard time imagining him married to Ava Gardner.  But that just proves that the person we see on the screen has little to do with who they are.



Francis Albert Sinatra, on the other hand; I think I got to know a little better.

I guess Frank is the original teen idol, but I have a feeling that the farther back I go the more I'll find.


I remember reading that Annie Oakley- from the same part of the country as the first teenager- Sweet Apple, Ohio- was the first international superstar.  What does that mean?  What about Alexander the Great?

But as far as teen idols go- we've got to get a handle on Frank and Conrad Birdie.

And I have to admit; I don't get either one of them yet.




I was amazed to think of Ava one floor above Peron with Evita's body in tow.

How had I not heard that before?

But I didn't learn much about Ava there.  It wasn't surprising to me at all that she'd water her flowers whenever the former dictator came out onto his terrace.

Indeed, Frank had a remarkable vocal instrument, a clear and pliable voice that glided over both the baritone and tenor ranges.  It sounded even better on radio than in performance.  The mike conveyed a mixture of coolness and intimacy.  He didn't have to raise or project his voice operatically, or try to seduce a crowd.  While other singers sang to the heavens, Frank, with a mike, sang to one person at a time.

p. 35 Thomas Dunne Books St. Martin's Press New York 2015


The author threw in the kind of side anecdotes and stories about others in the principals' circles that make biographies worthwhile when they don't fill in many gaps about the subjects themselves.  But, he did that throughout the book and in the Sources section at the end of the book.  Why not weave all that good stuff in the Sources into the body of the book- or take the side stories that slow down the narrative in the body of the book and move them to the back with the Sources?  It's as if he wrote the book and then instead of weaving in the stories he decided not to tell, he threw them into the back.  But it would have been better in one large body of the book itself because I think most readers will skip the Sources. 

I was surprised to hear Shirley MacLaine say Frank outlived his voice- not like that, but in so many words- the way I read it.  I never knew the Frank whose voice I liked- until recently.  Hearing The Great American Songbook on radio on Legends 100.3 has been wonderful, and they throw in so much Sinatra that now I like him too.