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| REVIEWS | BY CHRISTOPHER DOWNES |
 Frank Sinatra and Marilyn Monroe, the girl Dolly wanted her son to marry.  George Jacobs and Frank Sinatra  George and Mia Farrow: moments like this created the suspicion that cost George his career |
Mr S – The Last Word on Frank Sinatra by George Jacobs and William Stadiem Sidwick & Jackson, £16.99 MR S could stand for Mr Sleazeball or Mr Scumbag but I doubt if this will really be the last word on Frank Sinatra. George Jacobs worked for Mr S as valet and confidant for 15 years. They met when Jacobs was working for the legendary Hollywood agent ‘Swifty’ Lazar, who deserves a book of his own. ‘Swifty’ hated failure and hated having Sinatra as a next-door neighbour in his apartment block. Sinatra a failure? In 1952 he was on the skids, his glory days at MGM where his musicals with Gene Kelly already earned him a place in screen history, were over. His marriage to his great love Ava Gardner, for whom he divorced Nancy, the mother of his children, was over and even the record business had written him off. Nevertheless Jacobs allowed himself to be poached by Sinatra and there was an immediate rapport between Sinatra and the handsome black valet. Sinatra lobbied hard to get a coveted role in From Here To Eternity and rumoured support from his Mafia pals won him the part. An Oscar followed and Sinatra’s comeback began. Once fame and fortune were smiling again the singer lost no time (he was about 40 by then) in capitalising on his newly-regained fame. Already a well-known sex addict, Sinatra worked his way through the A-List of Hollywood leading ladies, although at a pinch a cocktail waitress or a hooker would do. Jacobs delivers all the dirt that sells trash like this. Through Sinatra he met them all and they all liked George, particularly the gay men – Cole Porter, Noel Coward and Laurence Harvey all had the hots for him, according to George. George’s amiable nature led him into an incident that would finish him with Sinatra. Innocently dancing with Mia Farrow during a casual encounter at a famous nightclub he was spotted, and, in a town where the sharing of a martini and a salted peanut constitutes an affair, the rumour mill went into overdrive. George being handsome and black clinched it. Sinatra’s legendary axe fell; his machismo had been challenged by a servant who had imagined he was a friend. “Thanks a lot and out with the garbage,” as Mamma Rose, stage mother incarnate, sings in Gypsy. Sinatra had his own horrendous stage mother, Dolly, an ex-abortionist. She hated Mia Farrow because Mia didn’t eat, scorning her pasta and meatballs for health food. Dolly liked Marilyn Monroe because she had a good appetite and wanted Frank to marry her because she was a bigger star than Mia. Fastidious Frank was put off by Marilyn’s disgusting personal habits which left stains on his furniture. That is the kind of gem you get in this book. Another long-term affair of Frank’s was with Judy Garland who would demand oral sex before a concert ‘to calm her down’. Peggy Lee, who lived in the neighbourhood, was the last resort and was always ready to oblige. Great ladies all and sadly no longer around to defend themselves. Sinatra’s mob connections and his closeness to the Kennedy’s also gets George’s inside analysis. According to George Mr S hated rock ‘n’ roll, loathed The Beatles, flower power and the peace movement. He paints a picture of a monster but there is no doubt that he was his ‘creature’. William Stadiem, who actually wrote the book, has a lively style and there is a part of me that wants to believe all this racy junk but I wasn’t there – was George? |
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