Frank Sinatra: prince of songs who made an immortal world of love
First, a little story. My late friend, numerologist Michel Kassett, was enlisted, some 40 years ago, to deliver a reading to Sinatra at his Palm Springs home, for his birthday.
The two men sat across from each other. As Michel ran down the numbers, Sinatra rolled his eyes a bit and smirked a bit. He took the reading as a joke. So Michel stopped and looked at Frank.
When Michel looked straight at you, you paid attention. He said to Frank:
“The voice is still there. It’s still inside you.”
You see, this was during a period when Frank thought he was washed up. Done.
Now Frank stopped smirking. Something changed in his eyes. Michel was telling him the actual truth. And the message was received.
Not long after that, Frank made one of his comebacks. Yes, the voice was still there.
At first, in the early 1940s, it was somewhat thin. Convincing, no doubt about that. But limited. So Frank went to the woodshed and studied voice with a very good teacher, and his range and depth expanded marvelously, and he reemerged as the prince of the Great American songbook. Unparalleled then, and now.