Pulp International - Frank+Sinatra

Dec 9 2010

What do you say to a naked lady?

This Confidential from December 1963 offers up several great stories, including an item on a supposed feud between Joe DiMaggio and Frank Sinatra over Marilyn Monroe, who had died the previous year. Confidential contends that DiMaggio considered Sinatra to be part of a too-fast crowd from which Monroe had picked up numerous bad habits that eventually contributed to her death. DiMaggio also supposedly hated Sinatra because Monroe had moved into Sinatra’s Las Vegas house after her marriage to DiMaggio fell apart in 1954. According to most biographers, Monroe and Sinatra became sexually involved around then. The most repeated story concerning the actual genesis of the affair has Sinatra waking one morning and entering his kitchen to find a nude Monroe peering into his refrigerator. According to the story she turned, startled, and said, “Oh Frankie, I didn’t know you got up so early.” From that point forward he was getting up pretty much constantly. Is this tale true? We don’t know, nor does anybody else, probably. But we want to believe.

Las Vegas Confidential Marilyn Monroe Frank Sinatra Joe DiMaggio tabloid

Hollywoodland

Jul 7 2010

Every scar tells a story.

Above is an On the Q.T. from July 1962 with cover stars Elizabeth Taylor, Juliet Prowse and Frank Sinatra. Sinatra was about to marry Prowse, a South African dancer and actress who he had met while both were filming the musical Can-Can. There was just one snag, though—Sinatra didn’t want Prowse to work once they were wed. Asked about the subject, Prowse, pictured below, said that if Sinatra asked her to quit dancing she “would probably yield.” But she didn’t, and the marriage never happened. But what interests us more about this cover is the shot of Liz Taylor and her tracheotomy scar. During the filming of Cleopatra in 1961 she picked up a case of double pneumonia and a surgeon saved her life by inserting a breathing tube through an incision into her windpipe. Taylor’s physical ailments were already the stuff of legend by that point, but her troubles hadn’t even reached their peak yet—to date she has had more than one hundred surgeries.

On the Q.T.Elizabeth Taylor Juliet Prowse Frank Sinatra tabloid

Hollywoodland

Jun 26 2010

Reaping the whirlwind.

National Enquirer published this week in 1964, with a story about Frank Sinatra and his anger issues. The Enquirer, in detailing instances when Sinatra lost his temper, had numerous examples from which to choose—he once beat Frederick Weisman with a telephone, dumped hot coffee on a casino manager, and shoved a woman through a plate glass window. Except for getting his front teeth knocked out on one occasion, Sinatra suffered no consequences from his behavior—he was simply too powerful, and nobody wanted to get on his bad side. Generoso Pope, Jr., who owned the Enquirer, was an exception. Sinatra hated the Enquirer, of course, and eventually sued it for libel. But that would be years later. The tales the paper published in this particular issue were all true.

National Enquirer Generoso Pope Jr.Frank Sinatra tabloid

Intl. Notebook

May 4 2010

Angels hard as they come.

We found some photos of Los Angeles scattered around, including many on an architecture forum called skyscraperpage.com, and thought we’d repost a few. Frank Sinatra once sang that L.A. was his lady. We used to live there and we can tell you she’s no lady. Quite the opposite, in fact—she’s the cruel high mistress of noir. The shots below, all circa 1930s through 1950s, depict L.A. at both her most beautiful and deadly.

Los Angeles Frank Sinatra

Intl. Notebook | Musiquarium

Apr 7 2010

Of all the actresses whose debut was playing a corpse, Christine Todd’s was among the most memorable.

Here’s something that immediately caught our eye—a rare film still of Christine Todd as the titular corpse from 1968’s Lady in Cement. Todd’s appearance is during the film’s first few minutes, as Sinatra’s detective character Tony Rome is scuba diving off the coast of Florida and finds her anchored in a block of cement. We've only seen the movie on network television, and Todd’s nude state was merely implied, which is why finding this unobstructed view was such a surprise. We guess the theatrical version was more revealing. We have a similar shot from a Japanese soundtrack sleeve, below, with a different superimposed shark. As memorable as Ms. Todd was in her debut, it was, sadly, her only movie role.

Japan Florida Miami Lady in Cement Christine Todd Frank Sinatra cinema nudity

Intl. Notebook

Mar 31 2010

Landmark Cal-Neva Lodge shutters gaming operations.

Frank Sinatra made a lot of nightspots famous. His mere presence—along with that of his Rat Pack—sprinkled gold dust on bars and eateries from end to end of the U.S., bestowing places such as 21, Toots Shor’s, and Chasen’s with fame that lasted long after the Rat Pack had died. That fame helped many of those old haunts survive into the new millennium, but now one of the most magical Rat Pack hangouts—the Cal Neva Lodge in Lake Tahoe, Nevada—is on the endangered list as it closes its gaming rooms today due to low profitability.

Sinatra owned the Cal-Neva between 1960 and 1963, his star power drawing Hollywood’s top celebrities, along with mob figures who he reportedly shuttled back and forth to various points around the property via old bootlegging tunnels. He made the Cal-Neva Lodge the jewel of Lake Tahoe, a piece of Tinseltown in what was little more than an alpine village.

But the Cal-Neva’s fortunes have been in decline for decades due to the proliferation of nearby Indian casinos, and the general dominance of Las Vegas. When the recent recession hit, the current owners—who had laid off about a hundred employees since 2006—finally decided they could not keep their gaming rooms in operation. Officially, at least, today’s closure is temporary, but industry insiders note that Rat Pack chic is not enough to draw modern gamblers to an older casino like the Cal-Neva Lodge. If so, it’s quite possible that not only will the gaming rooms never reopen, but that the entire Lodge has begun its final decline.

Nevada Lake Tahoe Las Vegas Cal-Neva Lodge Toots Shor’s Chasen’s Frank Sinatra mafia

Hollywoodland

Feb 18 2010

First rule of tabloid publishing—promise the readers sex even when there isn’t any.

February 1964 Hush-Hush with Anita Ekberg and Vivian Malone. Malone was the woman who Alabama Governor George Wallace barred from entering the University of Alabama during the fall of 1963 after the U.S. Supreme Court ruled segregation unconstitutional. Wallace had state troopers at his back that morning, but when John F. Kennedy nationalized the Alabama National Guard later that day, they escorted Malone to school and the troopers were forced to step aside. Thanks to the court ruling, and Kennedy’s executive order, Malone earned a degree and worked in the U.S. State Department for thirty-one years.

Interestingly, her brother-in-law is the current U.S. Attorney General, Eric Holder. The cover blurb on Malone reads vaguely sexual, but of course the story has nothing to do with that. The Ekberg story is similarly smoke sans fire. You also get a feature on Frank Sinatra and Jill St. John. The two worked together in Come Blow Your Horn in 1963 and Tony Rome in 1967, but most sources say their brief involvement didn’t commence until 1971. However St. John was part of Sinatra’s “in-crowd” for years, and to be seen palling around with Frank was to be accused of waking up in his bed.

Every actress in Hollywood knew that, and few seemed terribly concerned. Finally, after making readers think about sex for most of the issue, Hush-Hush makes them afraid to do it themselves with a story on America’s syphilis epidemic. The mid-century tabs were very much like slasher movies in that way—in the end, sex must always be punished. We found a nice shot on Ebay of Sinatra and St. John together on the set of Tony Rome, and we've posted it below. Our next trick will be to try and find a tabloid that doesn't have Sinatra inside. We think we have our work cut out for us.

Alabama Hush-Hush Come Blow Your Horn Tony Rome John F. Kennedy Vivian Malone George Wallace Anita Ekberg Frank Sinatra Jill St. John tabloid

Sportswire

Dec 8 2009

The two guys Top Secret tried to portray as enemies actually kinda liked each other.

As usual, there is an array of interesting teasers on the cover of Top Secret. The squaw in question at left is Jeanne Carmen, who was a famous blonde pin-up, but who was naturally brunette, and had played the role of a Native American girl named Yellow Moon in the cheesy western War Drums. So that’s the source of the squaw reference. Whether Elvis actually stole her from Sinatra, we can’t say. It’s possible any woman in Hollywood would have to be stolen from Sinatra, the guy got around so much. And as if to prove the point, he would later have a fling with the cover star here, Sabrina, aka Norma Sykes. We talked about their tryst in this post from earlier this year.

Anyway, the bit that really caught our attention was not the alleged Elvis-Carmen-Sinatra triangle, but the story about Ingo Johansson being doped. Ingemar “Ingo” Johansson was a world champion boxer who had won the heavyweight crown from Floyd Patterson a year earlier. In the March 1960 rematch, Patterson put Johansson’s lights out with a blow so vicious that Johansson was left twitching on the canvas. It was a definitive victory, just as Johansson’s earlier win over Patterson had been, but in 1960 white-black boxing matches were overtly racially divisive, and so Top Secret took advantage by suggesting that perhaps Patterson’s camp managed to slip the Swede a mickey. That question was answered in the March 1961 third match between the two, when Patterson again knocked Johansson out.

After their careers were over, Johansson and Patterson became good friends and even flew to visit each other in their native countries every year. Top Secret could well have done a story on that, but of course harmony doesn’t sell magazines. So while in the U.S. civil rights strife raged through the rest of the sixties and into the seventies, two guys who once made a living beating the living shit out of each other quietly proved that, given a chance to see each other’s similarities rather than differences, people tend to get along just fine.

Sweden Top Secret Ingo Johansson Elvis Presley Jeanne Carmen Frank Sinatra Sabrina Norma Sykes tabloid

Hollywoodland

Nov 23 2009

For Sinatra, every year was a very good year.

The publishers of The Lowdown went for titillation overload on this screamingly bright November 1961 cover, managing to hit several of the hot button issues of the day, from birth control to lesbianism. Frank Sinatra gets the star treatment here, and The Lowdown actually gets one right—Sinatra and Marilyn Monroe (bottom left) were involved in 1961, around the same time her ex-husband Joe DiMaggio (second from left) was growing concerned about the people around her and asked her to remarry him in hopes of stabilizing her life. Was Sinatra one of the people DiMaggio distrusted? Perhaps, but Monroe said no to Joe's proposal and was dead the next year.

As for Sinatra and Brigitte Bardot (bottom right), we can’t find any references to the two being involved, but they did meet during 1959 to discuss co-starring in a film to be helmed by Bardot’s ex-husband Roger Vadim (second from right). After the three of them talked about the project for a couple of days the idea fell through because Bardot didn’t want to work in Hollywood and Sinatra didn’t want to work in Paris. Did Sinatra and Bardot manage to sneak off for some international relations? We tend to doubt it—in addition to traveling with her ex-husband Vadim (who surely would have frowned on her cheating), she was married to actor/producer Jacques Charrier. Still, you can’t really put anything past Sinatra. But short of reading every Hollywood tell-all ever published, we just can’t say whether he and Bardot got together. The Lowdown hints yes, but take it for what it’s worth.

Paris Hollywood Lowdown Frank Sinatra Brigitte Bardot Roger Vadim Marilyn Monroe Joe DiMaggio Jacques Charrier tabloid

Hollywoodland

Jul 30 2009

He had a lot in common with the guy on those Dos Equis commercials, except he was real.

Today we’re back to the top dog of classic tabloids, the always-titillating Confidential. The above issue is from fifty-five years ago this month, July 1954, and as always the cover promises scandalous inside scoop—this time on champs, presidents, and filthy rich heiresses. But it’s the unassuming banner on the Rubirosa murder case that interests us, because it refers to none other than Porfirio Rubirosa, and if you’ve never heard of him, then prepare yourself to meet (cue grandiose flamenco chords) The Most Interesting Man in the World.

Rubirosa was born in the Dominican Republic in 1909 but raised in France, where his father, an army general, had scored the chargé d'affaires position at the Dominican consulate in Paris. When the young Rubirosa was seventeen he returned to the Dominican to study law, but enlisted in the military before finishing. In 1932, after a weeklong courtship, he married a seventeen year-old girl named Flor de Oro Trujillo, who happened to be the daughter of mass-murdering military dictator Rafael Leónidas Trujillo Molina. For normal men, rush-marrying a dictator’s little flower would result in a one-way ticket to the torture chamber, but for the charming Rubirosa it meant a diplomatic post in Berlin.

In 1935, Rubirosa’s cousin, Luis de la Fuente Rubirosa, was accused of assassinating exiled Dominican politician Sergio Bencosme in New York City. It was Rafael Trujillo’s work, but de la Fuente Rubirosa was the triggerman, and Porifirio was suspected of being an accomplice. That’s the murder Confidential references, and if you’re asking yourself why they cared about it nineteen years after the event, it’s because by then Rubirosa was very famous. But we’ll get to that.

Rubirosa had developed passions for polo, racing, gambling, and other expensive upper crust pursuits. He excelled at all of them. Perhaps the only thing he wasn’t good at was fidelity, which led to his divorce from Flor in 1937. But his sheer magnetism—or perhaps the fact that he was a valuable hired gun—kept him in dictator dad’s good graces, and he continued to receive diplomatic posts. When World War II swept across Europe, Rubirosa made a stack of money selling Dominican exit visas to fleeing Jews. At some point the Gestapo imprisoned him, but he was released after six months. After that, he was allegedly recruited as a political assassin.

In 1942 he met and married the French actress Danielle Darrieux, who you see above. From then on Rubirosa traveled in cinematic circles, which meant a more public profile. A consequence of this was that tidbits of his personal life began to leak out. Suddenly everyone knew he was a great lover, and that he had a penis measuring anywhere from eleven to fourteen inches, depending on whom you believed. After a while the slang term “rubirosa” became popular in France. They used it to refer to the giant pepper grinders in restaurants, and still do to this day.

By now there were open questions about Rubirosa’s racial background. He was very dark, and was often described as “nut brown.” Rumors spread that he was part black—a devastating accusation in the 1940s, and one still used very effectively as a smear even in today’s supposedly post-racial age. But Rubirosa handled the gossip with the panache

you'd expect from The Most Interesting Man in the World—he never addressed it all, at least not in public. His silence basically amounted to: “So what if I am?” And if the rumors bothered him, he surely derived ample compensation from the fact that legions of female admirers who’d heard about that pepper grinder of his didn’t care.

Because of the ease with which he was able to meet and bed women, Rubirosa found it impossible to remain faithful, even to an elegant beauty like Danielle Darrieux. They divorced in 1947, and the high-profile involvements began to pile up. There was Dolores del Rio, Ava Gardner, Rita Hayworth, Soraya Esfandiary, Veronica Lake, Kim Novak, Doris Duke (who happened to be the richest woman in the world), and Barbara Hutton (who was the second richest woman in the world). He fooled around with his first love Flor during his marriage to Duke, and with Zsa Zsa Gabor during his marriage to Hutton. When Duke divorced him he walked with $500,000, a string of polo ponies, some sports cars, a converted B-25 bomber, and a 17th century house in Paris. When Hutton divorced him—after only five weeks—he added a coffee plantation in the Dominican, another B-25, and $3.5 million to his holdings.

By now he was a professional celebrity. He was friendly with Joe Kennedy, Frank Sinatra, and Sammy Davis, Jr. One night in Paris, after teaching Davis how to properly kiss a woman's hand, the two went out to perfect the technique by flirting with women on the Champs-Élysées. Frank Sinatra once asked Rubirosa, “Rubi, have you ever held a full-time

job?” Rubirosa reportedly answered, “Women are my full-time job.” At some point he met Ian Fleming, and the novice writer came up with the great idea of basing a character on Rubirosa—a certain spy named James Bond.

Rubirosa’s fame made him tabloid fodder, and the scandal sheets dutifully tried to dig up dirt on him. They went back to the racial stuff, and whispered about that nineteen year-old New York murder. But the rumors that he had been an assassin just fed into his growing legend. He seemed to know everything, was one of the boys, one with the girls, and had already done more than most men manage in a lifetime. Truman Capote saw Rubirosa’s cock and rated it eleven inches. A female acquaintance pointed out a size twelve loafer in a shoe store and said Rubi had it beat. Rubirosa partied his way from Hollywood to Rome to Monaco, and wherever he went local women hung around his favorite hotels and bars, hoping to meet him.

He was racing his Ferrari professionally, and competed twice in the 24-hour race at LeMans. He was also looking for a relationship that would last, and in 1956 he married for the fifth time to actress Odile Rodin. She was nineteen and he was 42. He had mellowed—not a lot—but just enough to remain faithful. The marriage seemed to work. He was still boyish and exciting, and his biggest asset—that famous pepper grinder—showed no signs of diminishing with age. He began working on his memoirs. He was still young for that, but he had lived so much.

In 1965 Rubirosa was part of a team that won the Coupe de France polo cup. He spent the night of the victory celebrating at a Paris nightspot called Jimmy’s, then headed home in his Ferrari. The roads were

wet, and he was a little drunk. He lost control of the car and died in a fiery crash. The Most Interesting Man in the World was gone—literally burning out rather than fading away. He never finished his memoirs, and today the closest the world has to a Porfirio Rubirosa is a fictional character in a Dos Equis commercial.

More than almost any man of his era, Porfirio Rubirosa represents the lost glamour and mystery of a time that can never be reclaimed. He was the product of a more innocent and refined—yet also crueler—age. Reading about his life is like reading about an event you’d give anything to have witnessed, even if it would have been dangerous to be there. Rumor has it a few Rubirosa-based scripts are floating around Hollywood. Supposedly Antonio Banderas has rights to one, and wants to play the lead role. Maybe it’s a lack of imagination on our part, but we don’t see it. There is no shortage of legends in history, but we can’t think of one whose shoes would be more difficult to fill. As much as we’d like to see a Rubirosa biopic, our advice is this: if it’s better to burn out than to fade away, maybe it’s also better to never try and rekindle the flame.