Which Beatle did Sinatra sing for?
An extraordinary birthday present
He genuinely hated rock ‘n roll, hated the Beatles Rock Brynner
For Frank Sinatra, Elvis was bad enough but those long-haired Brits were the pits. Who could sing that stuff? Ella grimly plodded through A Hard Day’s Night but the Chairman was sitting this fad out.
For their part, The Beatles were wary of the first pop superstar. At sixteen, Paul had written When I’m Sixty-Four with him in mind but John was firmly in the anti-Frank camp (“Sinatra’s not for me”).
Until the mid-Sixties, this muted mutual disdain was kept backstage. The Beatles did their thing and Sinatra resolutely stuck to his. Their paths rarely crossed and their records were played on different radio stations for very distinct markets.
The Beatles didn’t do Vegas and Frank sure as hell wasn’t going to be queuing up for ticket at Shea Stadium. He put his boot through one radio playing The Doors ‘Light My Fire, further confirmation that had no intention of wearing flowers in his thinning hair.
Then things got personal. The fourth Mrs S, twenty-two-year-old, Mia Farrow, was Beatles fan. She bought their records and worse still played them to her cat on her dansette Chez Sinatra.
In one entertaining, if not entirely reliable, TV biopic the deal-breaker for the marriage is when Frank overhears one-too-many choruses of Hey Jude. “Deal with her,” he tells a flunky.
Mercifully, the Sinatra staffer offers Mia the Catherine of Aragon separation deal rather than the Anne Boleyn option. The divorce papers were duly served on the set of Rosemary’s Baby — no wife of mine is having satanic progeny. Period! — in November 1967.
The following February, Mia skipped off to India, with her sister, Prudence, and the Fab Four crazy gang. Beads, clown clothes, a weird Indian huckster — this was a long way from Kansas or indeed Hoboken.
Happy Birthday, Mo!
Once again Frank could live a Fab-free life, laughing from the sidelines as his foes launched their latest madcap venture, a new company built on hippy principles. Those bozos were even copying his bespoke record label idea — only their version of Reprise show cased long haired layabouts.
Yet, astonishingly, Sinatra’s name was on the first single pressed by the new label in August 1968. Notated as Apple 1 this was was a private From Me to You from Frank to a Fab.
Or more precisely for a Fab spouse.
Happy Birthday, Mo
Maureen Starkey was the only the only Beatles’ wife to have emerged directly from their Cavern fan-base — and had the bruised shins from rivals to prove it. She was also a dedicated Sinatra fan. Though very compatible in numerous ways, the Starkeys were not entirely in sync when it came to musical preference.
Maureen loved Richie — Beatles tunes, not quite so much. While Mia wore out Sergeant Pepper, Mo was more of a Songs for Swinging Lovers kind of woman. Ringo took this on the chin with the amiability that has always been his calling card.
So when he was planning extra-special 22nd birthday present, Ringo did not turn to his band-mates. Smiling through his tears — you don’t want me to sing Submarine for you? Or a Buck Owens number? — he set about getting a personal message from Mo’s first (musical) love.
Even coming from the Royal Court of the Yeah Yeahs, a direct request to the Chairman was a big ask. But dealing with outlandish demands was Peter Brown’s job description. Possibly with the the help of Ron Kass, he managed to link up with the lyricist and Sinatra pal, Sammy Cahn.
Cahn obliged, scribbling out a a tailored parody of The Lady is a Tramp. He then persuaded Sinatra to knock out a take while they were finishing up his new album Capitol Studios in Los Angeles.
With Sammy providing piano accompaniment, Sinatra gives a spirited performance, albeit one that sounds like it was recorded in an air raid shelter during WW2.
The Words
Given that neither Sinatra had never met either Starkey, Maureen is a Champ goes big on cheeky familiarity. It starts with a clunky couplet:
There’s no one like her, But no one at all.
And as for charm. Hers is like, wall to wall.
But then perks up with a sharp gag: She married Ringo/And she could have had Paul before reverting to Hallmark boilerplate. That looks like steering us to a dreary conclusion when suddenly were in a full-on roast:
Though we’ve not met I’m convinced she’s a gem.
I’m just F.S. But to me she’s big M.
Mainly because She prefers me to them. That’s why the lady is a champ.
With admirable sportsmanship, Frank then goes all-in on the joke:
I have lots of fans. Well at least one or two./But Peter Brown calls me To tell me it’s true./ She sleeps with Ringo But she thinks of you.
Doubtless there was a sharp intake of breath before the eruption of nervous laughter at Mo’s birthday bash. But Mr Starkey did not do a Will Smith (as Lennon did at Paul’s 21st party). Indeed, he and Mo were proud guests of the Chairman’s at a Vegas gig in 1970.
Sinatra goes soft?
Had Frank mellowed towards his old foes? To an extent — he later covered Something and told his audience that Lennon and McCartney had written “the greatest love song of the past 50 years”.
Nice of you to say, Frank. And Ringo did a great job with Yesterday, right?
I Married a Beatle — Ringo & Mo
