Mr. S: My Life with Frank Sinatra

He showed us a closeup of his life with Sinatra. All the pitfalls, the joys, the sorrows. So worth reading if you are fond of Sinatra and want to discover who he was behind the scenes. I couldn't put it down!

I love a great thoughtful insider memoir. The author truly tells what it FEELS like to be in this position with a megolomaniac star, a basket of contradictions.I never believd FS to be warm or fuzzy or even sexy . Dangerous, larger than life, classy and generous, most of the time- and a seething rage-aholic with venom galore. I enjoyed some of the insights given by other readers, I haven't more to add( since I read the book five years ago ), except that I appreciated the George Jacobs insight into Franks musical ambition and matching discipline.George truly loved Frank with all his heart . This is a MUST read for any Frank fan.

"Mr. S: My Life with Frank Sinatra," written by George Jacobs - Frank's valet/personal assistant; friend; confidante of 15 years, is a very candid and extremely engrossing book. In every page, it is clear that George Jacobs truly loved Frank Sinatra as a brother. Although I knew quite a bit about Frank Sinatra's life already, I was totally unprepared for how interesting and "can't-put-it-down" this book turned out to be. I loved it. Frank Sinatra was the best of men and the absolute worst of men. He was the most generous of men and yet he was the most vindictive of men as well. He was a contradiction in human nature in extremes. If you even slightly offended him or were perceived as disloyal, you seldom got another chance. George tells of his relationship with Frank and Frank's rise and fall and rise back again to fame. He writes of his adventures with Frank's family and how wonderful "Big Nancy" was to Frank - long after the divorce. After reading this, I truly thought Frank Sinatra's first wife was a saint! I expected this book to touch on just the superficial, but it really delved into a part of our history. Like millions of baby boomers, I idolized John F. Kennedy. Yes - I knew that he had an affair with Marilyn Monroe, but I didn't know about the barrage of call girls and cocaine. When JFK was campaigning, he asked George, "What do colored people want?" Diplomatically, George responded that he didn't know and asked Jack what he wanted (for our country). JFK, with a big leering grin, responded," I want to f*ck every woman in Hollywood." Statements like this just amazed me. As we all know, Joe Kennedy Sr. had many mob connection from his bootlegging days. This book relates how Illinois was virtually a present to JFK from the mob in the election. I had heard about the helicopter pad that Frank Sinatra was reported to have destroyed when John Kennedy's visit was cancelled, but I wasn't aware of the extent of John's deception. Frank Sinatra spent over a year campaigning for JFK; having "High Hopes" written and performed; and spending a fortune in anticipation of JFK's visit. Without Joe's influence, John totally turned his back on Sinatra and decided to stay at Bing Crosby's (who had supported Nixon)! Moreover, it was highly likely that he set things in motion for Marilyn's death when she threatened to expose their affair. Bobby Kennedy (whom I had also admired) and Jackie were even more ungrateful than John. No one deserved what Woody Allen did to Mia Farrow later in life, but I couldn't help thinking that Mia was so wrong in not setting the record straight with Frank about her dancing with George. George was "babysitting" Mia and trying to pacify her when she dragged him onto the dance floor. When the paparazzi went wild with these pictures, George's life was to change forever. As a result, he was literally fired overnight by Frank Sinatra. George had money saved, but it is clear that he never recovered from this blow

Don't get me wrong. I'm a Sinatra Fan. Of his music. I never did buy into the crock of b.s. that painted him as some sort of cultural hero. And I always figured it would just be a matter of time before someone who worked this close to Sinatra would spill the beans. And it's all here. His double standards shine like the Hope Diamond. Do as I say and not as I do seems to be the recurring theme in the Frank Sinatra mantra. He demanded fidelity from his wives, but kept hookers by the dozen at any given time and paid for their abortions like they were monthly Visa bills while everyone else painted him as the picture perfect father of Nancy, Tina and Frank, Jr. His mob ties are legendary and by now general knowledge. Here we find Jacobs giving us all the juicy details. For some reason, the pay was good enough for Jacobs to tolerate Sinatra's unending racial and ethnic slurs which he apparently tossed around freely, never fearing consequence. Yet, for his entire career Sinatra was championed as a great Civil Rights pioneer. Okay, but any Civil Rights pioneer shouldn't toss the N word around so freely. It's not until the late sixties that Sinatra becomes a philanthropist of sorts to untarnish his disgusting image. Jacobs paints an interesting portrait of Old Blue Eyes as the Ultimate Paradox. I found the writing tight, honest and overall it's a book I couldn't put down once I picked it up. Unfortunately, Jacobs himself was kicked out of the Sinatra fold eventually, which makes the story all that more credible. I walked away from the book with a bevy of emotions, angry mostly, that such a talent could be such a jerk for most of his life. There were consequences for the Chairman always wanting to have it his way in his personal and professional life, and now that he's gone we may never know how it might've played out. Today I imagine Frank Sinatra would've been diagnosed as some sort of bi-polar idiot. God knows half of our musicians use that condition as an excuse for their stupid behavior. There indeed is a fine line between genius and lunacy. You'll read Jacob's memoir and walk away satisfied yet ticked off. Guaranteed.

Reading George Jacobs' memoir of his years as Frank Sinatra's right-hand man, I am struck by the star's sense of failure, despite having almost everything. He never got over second wife Ava Gardner. He sought but failed to get a Best Acting Oscar. His career declined while third wife Mia Farrow, barely out of her teens, hit it big with "Rosemary's Baby." Sinatra was rejected by the Kennedys, as well as gangster Sam Giancana, whose loss in some ways he appears to have taken harder. And he severed various friends - including Jacobs - ultimately doing more damage to himself. Sinatra did not age gracefully. Lucky enough to get a second youth after his 1953 comeback, he underwent a second midlife crisis in the mid-1960s. How hard must it must have been to enter one's fifties, while popular culture overnight became about teenagers - their rebellions, music, fashions, and most of all contempt for Frank Sinatra's generation. As Jacobs leaves in 1968, fired for generating tabloid headlines one night when Farrow drags him onto a dance floor, Sinatra at 52 is getting lonelier and meaner, with hardly any boon companions from his heyday still in sight. Jacobs focuses on those earlier, happier, peak years, where Sinatra's star quirks were leavened by kindness and consideration, and tarnished with fewer tantrums and less vindictiveness; and he shows how the decline began. The book exceeds my expectations, tribute to William Stadiem's great ghostwriting and Jacobs' three-dimensional Sinatra portrait. What seems remarkable is his determination not to trash a man who, at the end, treated him poorly. Neither does he take easy shots at the Rat Packers for the ubiquitous ethnic jokes and slurs; he sees it in the context of the time, as banter rather than hate. Sinatra named his own plane "El Dago." No one else saw Sinatra close up with so many of the key people in his life. Jacobs babysat Ava Gardner at Sinatra's Palm Springs house. Jacobs found her mesmerizing for not only her beauty but her unaffected charm, and fully understands why Sinatra never got over her. Jacobs' own apartment was next to Marilyn Monroe's. Sinatra put him there to keep an eye on the troubled actress whom the singer feared was an overdose waiting to happen. Jacobs drove home the countless starlets, paid the countless hookers, bought the flowers and chocolates and gifts for the countless girlfriends. He tended bar at Sinatra's recording sessions with Nelson Riddle. He gave backrubs to JFK and had lengthy conversations with him, mostly about "pussy." (JFK was fascinated by shaved ones, which he called "naked lunch." Women deeply offended by all this should regard this book as "Sex and the City" for guys.) Jacobs' own friendship with Sinatra's mother Dolly survived his firing, showing what an insider he really was. Your prurient interest will be fed on virtually every page. The kiss-and-tell rings true. Detractors may fault Jacobs for dishing on dead principals unable to defend themse

I found this book to be totally riveting and interesting to the point that Frank hated the modernization of the entertainment business but is apparently guilty of everything he hated in today's entertainers with the exception of drugs. George Jacobs rats on Frank but in a loving way. It is clear that Jacobs loved the man and his style but hated what the 60's and future were and did do to his boss.I find the contents of the book to be open and honest. There's enough written here about the usual incidents, lots of confirmation of events but from a totally different perspective. It looks like Jacobs saw the world in a similar vain to Frank. And while I cannot imagine his children enjoying this book, at least the author is alligned with them on his feelings about Frank's 4th wife.I recommend this book to anyone who loves Frank Sinatra, the whole person. I am a true fan. This book made me revere him more, although the womanizing would have killed a mere mortal long before Frank passed on. What a life! If it all weren't so true, it would be a great fairytale.