Where’s the Seesaw?

Over on Eater I read a nice piece on a restaurant called Gino, on Lexington Avenue near Bloomingdale’s, which I went to once, the day after Frank Sinatra died.

Why? I’d read that Frank hung out there, and wanted to go there because of that. Didn’t know if it was true, but went anyways. Turned out that the bartender had seen him there, once, about three years earlier. He was a *big* fan.  He told me he had 130 Sinatra albums. And he also told me that his wife woke up the night it happened, to “go to the ladies’ room” and had the radio on when she went. She heard the news. Came back to bed. Kissed him on the cheek and woke him up. “After 42 years…” he said. And she told him that Frank had died. And he cried. His name was Bobby. He really loves Frank. Born and raised in Manhattan. Said he saw Frank live maybe a dozen times. He was going to retire the next week. His favorite album is “Watertown.” He told me about the last song, when the woman who’s supposed to be coming back is not on the train. A couple of times he even got misty-eyed. And I asked him if anyone else had come in there that night just because Frank had gone there, and he told me no one else had. He also told me that the one time he’d been there that Frank had come in, he’d ordered an Absolut on the rocks before dinner, and Bobby poured one for himself right after, just so he could know he’d drunk out of the same bottle. Sadly, he didn’t keep the bottle. But he loved Frank so much, and he was so happy (even though he tried not to show it) to see someone as young as I love Frank too. And when I made a mean comment about the three assholes who were at the bar, he agreed but quietly enough not to offend said assholes. And, before I left, gave me his number and told me to call him so we could get together and talk about Frank.

I really could not have imagined a better way to celebrate Frank, and I only wish You People <tm> could have been there with me.

I gave Bobby my then-only copy (on tape) of Sinatra at The Sands, which for some reason he’d never heard. I’m sure he loved it.

The first Frank I ever bought was a cheap cassette copy of his “greatest hits.” I didn’t really like Frank at the time, but I needed to have a copy of “My Way” for a lip-synch contest at school.
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