Notes

The following originally appeared in the GRAND JUNCTION FREE PRESS:

This is the story of two friends, Sam and Frank.

Like all chums, Sam and Frank offered one another succor and support.  They kidded.   They cajoled.  If Frank needed a favor, he could count on his old pal Sam.   If Sam was in a pinch, Frank bent over backwards to help.  And to the world around them, each man sang the praises of the other, bragging and boasting of the amity that bound them.

Okay, so what if friendship’s gravy train didn’t flow equally in both directions?  Isn’t it true that all friendships are a little uneven, with one buddy pulling just a bit harder to the benefit of his pal?  If Sam’s interests were availed more often than Frank’s, well… as Frank was known to say more than once: That’s life.

Yes, Sam and Frank were quintessential comrades — only with a few nasty niggles.  For instance, most friends don’t sit around and sanguinely discuss the possible murder of their pal.  At least, I’m reasonably certain yours (and I hope mine) don’t.  But that’s what Sam did in 1962, talking about his old buddy Frank with potty-mouthed gunsel Johnny Formosa. 

Y’see, friendship gets complicated when the friends in question are mob boss Sam Giancana and singer-actor Frank Sinatra.

Sinatra was born in 1915 in Hoboken, New Jersey, the city built on land that was sold to the Dutch West India Company by native Americans in 1630 for some wampum, guns and beer.  In the early days of the 20th century, Hoboken’s population was primarily Italian and Irish, and its ties to the East Coast mafia are legion.  In addition to giving the world Sinatra (as well as future SOPRANOS star Joe Pantoliano), Hoboken served as a base for many of the 20th century’s nastiest gangsters, like Genovese family consigliere Bobby Manna, who ran his gambling and racketeering operations out of Casella’s Restaurant and now languishes in federal prison after his 1989 conviction for an attempted hit on Gambino boss John Gotti.

As bad as Manna and his ilk were, they paled next to Chicago’s Salvatore “Sam” Giancana.  Giancana turned wiseguy before he hit puberty, and was reputedly one of the killers who executed 1929’s infamous St. Valentine’s Day massacre at the behest of Al Capone.  During his long, brutal career, Giancana oversaw a mob empire that stretched from the Windy City to Las Vegas and Cuba.

Sinatra and Giancana first met in 1958 at Fontainbleu Hotel in Miami, Florida.  Although Sinatra later told I.R.S. investigators that his relationship with Giancana was amiable but not particularly close, this seems unlikely for many reasons – not the least of which was the sapphire ring that Giancana wore on his little finger, a gift from the Chairman.  Furthermore, it is widely believed Sinatra bought the infamous Cal/Neva Casino in Lake Tahoe as a front for Giancana.

We’ll look at the strange friendship between Sam and Frank again… in the future.  Join us then, capish?

And for more on Frank Sinatra, see “The Concept Albums of Frank Sinatra.”