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A Review by Ann Ellenbecker

George Jacobs opens his biography with the end, setting the scene of his discharge after fifteen years of service as Frank Sinatra's valet. Jacobs's undoing? Being photographed dancing with then Mrs. Sinatra, Mia Farrow. The Sinatra marriage was rocky at the time, to say the least: "The only man in America who was less interested than me in sleeping with Mia Farrow was her husband and my boss, Frank Sinatra." But as Jacobs makes clear, Sinatra had become progressively more unpredictable in his tantrums over those fifteen years. Surprisingly, though, despite this obviously upsetting turn of events, Jacobs succeeds in producing a compassionate and addicting account of his time in the pop icon's roller-coaster life.

If you're looking for scathing gossip on Sinatra's relationship with Ava Gardner or fresh dirt about Marilyn Monroe, you won't find it here. (Buy Kitty Kelley's unauthorized, and court-battled, biography, instead.) Jacobs treats Sinatra's friends and relatives with the highest regard, both due to his personal relationships with them all, and, certainly, out of deference to Sinatra's memory. It's obvious that Jacobs cared deeply for his boss and admired the man despite his faults, which are laid out in fastidious, yet sympathetic, detail.

Jacobs's good humor and respect carry over to the whole cast of characters... well, to all except patriarch Joe Kennedy. It's no wonder, either, considering the information he shares about Old Joe, or "Mr. Ambassador" as Sinatra called him. Jacobs comes to this conclusion:

"[Kennedy] may have held a Harvard degree, but was a disgrace to it, cruder and meaner and, alas, proving crime does pay, more successful than any of the street mobsters that Mr. S ever hosted. Such was the father of our country's most captivating president. Mr. Ambassador, if anyone had the guts to spit in his face, a bravery that my boss sadly lacked, should have been called Mr. Asshole."

On the other hand, Jacobs's adoration for Jack (before and after the family's rift with Sinatra) is palpable. They shared a great rapport, and it didn't hurt Jacobs's case that he was so close to Sinatra, either, because Ol' Blue Eyes was a source of fascination for JFK — "Because Frank Sinatra controlled the one thing JFK wanted more than anything else: Pussy! Mr. S was the Pope of Pussy, and JFK was honored to kiss his ring." Frankly, the anecdotes of JFK's obsession with sex could make a book unto itself, albeit a boring one, because according to Jacobs, Jack wasn't very picky.

Most of Sinatra's associates get this same no-holds-barred commentary offered up in heaping servings. The cast of characters, as one would assume, is a who's who of organized crime, politics, and A-list Hollywood — and, of course, hookers.

But, the tales told are not all based on sex... not all of them. Jacobs obviously became a confidant to Sinatra. He shares many intimate details of Sinatra's feelings about his friends and family, his musical tastes, and his appearance, which was an issue of punctilious detail. Though Sinatra was prone to temper tantrums, especially in his later years with Jacobs in his charge, he rarely directed them toward his valet (the final lancing blow excepted). This could be wholly due to the fact that Jacobs knew the buttons and, thus, which not to push.

"As time went by, the more I got to know him, the more candid I would be. But one rule was: never, ever, make a negative comment about his appearance. Some jokes just didn't play in Sinatraland."

From the daily regimen of preparing his hair (or lack thereof) and make-up (he was no stranger to cover-up and a powder puff, yes, off-screen, as well as on) to his fixation with clothes (his closets were immaculate and plentiful) and shoes (forcing a cliched reference to Imelda Marcos), Sinatra took his appearance with utter seriousness.

"As far as [Sinatra] was concerned, he couldn't have too many trousers. He was embarrassed by any creases, thought they looked slovenly. He would often change his pants if he sat down once. That's why he was forever pacing. He may have seemed wired and edgy, but the reality was that this vain fashion plate didn't want to wrinkle his trousers and spoil the perfection."

But, in the long run, Jacobs was like anyone else that dared disrespect Sinatra. Notwithstanding all his insight into and concern for his boss, he was cut off from the life he knew and loved for fifteen years over one misconstrued public indiscretion, which makes his account all the more remarkable. Jacobs didn't deserve such treatment, yet somehow he kept his cool. The outcome is a notable, revealing, and evenhanded memoir of his life with the Chairman of the Board.