Intimate Strangers
Comic Profiles and Indiscretions of the Very Famous
Chapter One
And Then There Was One: Sinatra Bequeaths His Rules of Order
Esquire, March 1996
In black tie, Dean sleeps forever. He lounges in his marble vault,
behind the bank in Westwood, draped in midnight attire, in the
uniform, crimson hanky peeking from breast pocket. He was the
beautiful one. Always did know how to dress. The Leader liked that.
Sam was another story. He was the youngest, the wild card. Onstage,
1963: "What are you doing in that cockamamie street suit!" Frank
admonished, emerging godlike from the wings of the Sands, Dean by
his side. "And what is this, with the tie down and the collar open?
Where the hell did you learn that? Now, go up to your room and get
yourself into a little ol' tuxedo!" This happened nightly. Sam:
"What're you, Esquire magazine? Let's get one thing straight, Frank!
I'm thirty-seven years old! I will change my clothes when I get good
and ready!" Frank: "Are you ready?" Sam: "Yes, Frank." Sam was a
pussycat in his tiny tux, Frank always said. Right now he's up on
that Forest Lawn ... read full excerpt from Intimate Strangers ebook
