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The untimely death of Michael Jackson started a debate raging in my household over who is the best entertainer of all time. My family claims Michael is the best, while I went with Frank Sinatra. Several things became apparent. If you’ve never seen a performer live, you can’t really judge them, and today’s technology greatly affects the impact a performer can make worldwide.
The argument for Michael is based largely on the fact it’s indisputable he was helped by the expansion of television across the world, coupled with the advent of the music video. This is not to denigrate his talent. I certainly would group him with Elvis and Frank as the top three, just in a different order than the rest of my family. Jackson also was more versatile, I am reminded. He not only transformed dance, but wrote his songs and sang them. His fame reached into small towns, as well as big cities, and across continents.
Although I acknowledge Michael was the unquestioned "King of Pop" in the 1980s, I give Sinatra the edge because he was able to sustain his popularity through generations. He was the teeny heartthrob in the days after he left the Tommy Dorsey Band. It might be hard for today’s generation to imagine, but the skinny crooner with the bow tie had the girls as enthralled as Michael or Elvis ever did. As pop music changed and he became older, Sinatra established himself as the foremost interpreter of the best of American popular music. Even today, it’s difficult to hear anyone else sing Rodgers and Hart, George Gershwin or Cole Porter.
I am told Sinatra didn’t do anything but stand there and sing. He didn’t wear exotic clothes or dance or even write the music he sang. Even that is not exactly true. Sinatra wrote "I’m a Fool to Want You," supposedly after his breakup with Ava Gardner. If you haven’t heard or listened to it recently, do yourself a favor and toss it in the CD player or add it to your iPod. It’s a gut-wrencher, a song that whatever the era will be meaningful to anyone who has ever suffered a lost love.
Believe it or not, Sinatra danced, too, and well enough to be teamed with Gene Kelly into two classic musicals "Anchors Aweigh" and "On the Town." If it means anything to you, he also led an orchestra on two classical music albums and on the great Peggy Lee’s record "The Man I Love."
I am told Sinatra did not reach the small towns of America. But he sang about universal feelings that unite small towns and big cities. My answer to that charge is in these lyrics — "New York, New York or a village in Iowa. The only difference is the name. When you’re alone, whether on Main Street or on Broadway. When you’re alone, they’re both the same."
I started out with the proposition my son-in-law raised and with which I agree — if you haven’t seen the performer in person, you really can’t make comparisons. Much to my regret, I never saw Michael or Elvis live, or even the Beatles, whom I adore. I was fortunate enough to first see Sinatra at the 500 Club in the late ’50s, and then almost every time he performed in our area. The night he sang with Ella Fitzgerald and Count Basie at the Urich Theater in New York is the best show I ever saw or will see, so I’ll admit to the bias of my generation.
Maybe we should wait a suitable length of time after a performer has died to realistically assess his or her impact. There is a tendency to inflate reputations when a public figure leaves us young. John Kennedy gets rated our No. 1 president in public opinion polls ahead of Lincoln and FDR. John Lennon’s reputation seems only to have grown since his murder, and perhaps that is the way it will be for Michael.
During our debate, I mentioned Michael’s star had faded until his death. He made only five albums in 25 years and had not been on a concert stage in 12 years. To counter the argument, I was told he sold out 50 concerts in London before his death. Sinatra also had his slump, they reminded me. But when he slumped, he mounted a comeback by winning an Academy Award for "From Here to Eternity."
This is one of those arguments you never can settle, one of those street corner debates that enliven bars and luncheonettes. In a recent column, Stu Bykofsky cast his vote for Lennon, whose music transcends genres. It’s a personal thing. Nobody is right or wrong (I say that only because I’m outnumbered in my house).
I’ll take Frank.
