Word: sinatras
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...Sinatra intoned Night-And-Day-You-Are-The-One, the juvenile assemblage squealed "Ohhhhhhh!" He aimed his light blue eyes and careless locks at a front row devotee. It was too much; she shrieked...
Cocking his head, hunching his shoulders, caressing the microphone, Sinatra slid into She's Funny That Way, purring the words: "I'm not much to look at, nothin' to see." "Oh, Frankie, yes you are!" wailed the audience. The song over, Sinatra started to leave the stage. "Don't go!" whimpered the little girls. He gave them an encore, mooned: "The mate that fate had me created for." Thereupon a delegation of them rose, whinnying: "Here I am, Frankie!" "Frankie, look at me!" The band had to play the Star-Spangled Banner...
Shades of Valentino. In various manifestations, this sort of thing has been going on all over America the last few months. Not since the days of Rudolph Valentino has American womanhood made such unabashed public love to an entertainer. It started with Frank Sinatra's first solo appearance at the Paramount theater last December, flowered when he moved on to Manhattan's Riobamba club. The press noted his impact on every woman present, recorded the phenomenon loudly and long...
That was what Sinatra's pressagent, George ("I like to keep their wings flapping") Evans, was waiting for. He pulled out all the publicity stops, began to multiply the inevitable fan clubs. There are hundreds of them now - from Moonlight Sinatra to the Frank Sinatra Fan and Mah-Jong Club, an association of 40 middle-aged women who meet to play their favorite game to the sweet warblings...
Headaches v. Technique. Incredulous newspapermen, on whom the Sinatra voice has little effect, canvassed his harem to discover what Sinatra did to them. Some of their answers...