Frank Sinatra Has a Cold

Gay Talese flew to Los Angeles to write a feature about Frank Sinatra, but soon discovered that Old Blue Eyes wasn't receptive to an interview. Talese hung around near Sinatra for many months and talked with his closest family, friends and business associates, and ends up painting an unbelievably rich portrait of the man. The imagery of Sinatra swaggering through The Sands with Sammy Davis Jr. and Dean Martin is cartoonishly debonair.

By four A.M. Frank Sinatra led the group out of The Sahara, some of them carrying their glasses of whisky with them, sipping it along the sidewalk and in the cars; then, returning to The Sands, they walked into the gambling casino. It was still packed with people, the roulette wheels spinning, the crapshooters screaming in the far corner.

Frank Sinatra, holding a shot glass of bourbon in his left hand, walked through the crowd. He, unlike some of his friends, was perfectly pressed, his tuxedo tie precisely pointed, his shoes unsmudged. He never seems to lose his dignity, never lets his guard completely down no matter how much he has drunk, nor how long he has been up. He never sways when he walks, like Dean Martin, nor does he ever dance in the aisles or jump up on tables, like Sammy Davis.