Mr. S: My Life with Frank Sinatra
"Mr. S: My Life with Frank Sinatra, by former valet-aide George Jacobs with an oh-so-able assist by William Stadiem, has at least five quotable and shocking remarks about the famous on every page. The fifteen years Jacobs toiled for Frank produces a classic of its genre -- a gold-star gossip-lover's dream....
"The rest is showbiz history as it was, and only Ava Gardner, Humphrey Bogart, and Betty Bacall are spared. Marilyn Monroe, Judy Garland, Juliet Prowse, Noel Coward, Cole Porter, Mia Farrow, Elvis Presley, Swifty Lazar, Dean Martin, Peggy Lee, Sammy Davis Jr., Marlene Dietrich, Greta Garbo, Jimmy van Heusen, Edie Goetz, Peter Lawford, and all of the Kennedys come in for heaping portions of 'deep dish,' served hot. Sordid, trashy, funny, and so rat-a-tat with its smart inside info and hip instant analysis that some of it seems too good to be true....
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Good story telling. Humorous, and neat insider information, but you still get the feeling George is protecting certain information, which is fine.
Overall, I liked it, but I always felt some level of detail was missing or omitted from George's story telling. I guess you have to protect the innocent (who may or may not be alive) in some ways. I got the feeling George and "Mr. S" were great friends and truly loved each other, even after George was unceremoniously let go.
"Mr. S: My Life with Frank Sinatra," by his valet of 15 years, George Jacobs (whom Sinatra fired for dancing with Mia Farrow), is filled with enough vanity, insecurity, envy, racism, drinking, smoking, womanizing and deal-making for three lifetimes. Jacobs takes the reader into the "board room" and the bedroom to reveal intimate portraits of the supremely talented larger-than-life Chairman himself, the woman he never stopped loving (Ava Gardner), mobster associates like one-time Al Capone "wheel man" Sam Giancana, that pitiful plaything of the rich and famous, Marilyn Monroe, and the utterly vile Kennedy father (who was even "crueler about Jews than he was about blacks") and his charismatic, whore-mongering son (drinking, drugs and round-the-clock sex that had even the insatiable Sinatra panting).
If Ronald Reagan's motto was "Win one for the Gipper," JFK's (and Sinatra’s) surely had to be "Win one for the Zipper."