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“LUCKY” LUCIANO
£2
"MOONEY" GIANCANA
SINATRA TIED TO
Frank Sinatra , Jr. ,is proud of his father and says, “I’m proud of my name.*
A as he walked out onto the stage l of the Royal Box at New York’s plush new Americana Hotel, the twin spotlights hit him smack in the eyes. It was a little like being in a police lineup, except that there were hundreds of strangers out there in the dark room instead of a handful of detectives and cops, and they were not there to pick him out as a criminal suspect, but to judge him as a singer. Or were they?
He was Frank Sinatra, Jr., and this was his opening night in the Big Town. His previous opening night performances — in Vegas and Atlantic City and all those other places — had been strictly from Podunk. This was the big-time; tonight was for keeps: win the works or go for broke. But surely he didn’t rate
forty-five photographers and reporters— those guys milling around in the lobby. Besides, they hadn’t beaten a path to his dressing room and they weren’t wasting much of their film on his picture.
Most of the crowd out there behind the blinding blaze of the spotlight ( as Milton Berle used to say, you knew someone was there because you could hear breathing) had showed up primarily because they were curious to see if he could make it big in his own right, or if he were just a blurred carbon copy of his famous dad. Or had they?
He knew they were there, all right, not because he could hear breathing, but because he could hear whispering — the buzzing of tongues. And, even if he couldn’t see their