ENTERTAINMENT
Frank Sinatra draws thousands at Paramount Theatre in 1944
Frank Sinatra at the Paramount Theater. (New York Daily News)(Originally
published by the Daily News on October 13, 1944. This story was written by
Elaine Cunniffe and Gilbert Millstein.)Thousands upon thousands of shrill,
flushed pilgrims surged into Times Square yesterday, their mecca the Paramount
Theatre, their prophet a languid baritone with big ears and a habit of writhing
back of a microphone clutched in is hands.
They rose with the milkman. They brought their lunches, autograph books, bobby
socks, short skirts and noisy ecstasy.Shortly after 10 A.M., 3,600 of them were
wedged into the theatre, while outside a passionate 25,000 contended with the
cops. The chosen, who got inside, ripped ties from ushers and were lectured in
classical music like "Old Man River," by that great classicist, Frank
Sinatra.The reason so many were able to show up was that yesterday was a
holiday.A Feint to the Larynx.
Several outside swooned on schedule. One, 16-year-old Loretta Dillon of 6
Calvin St., Lynbrook, L. I., rallied sufficiently to insist upon being allowed
inside to look at The Voice. Her success prompted a succession of false faints
thereafter, but none was successful.The cops, mature and case-hardened, handled
the idolators well - firmly but gently. On hand were two emergency trucks, 20
radio cars, four lieutenants, six sergeants, two captains, two assistant chief
inspectors, two inspectors, 70 patrolmen, 50 traffic cops, 12 mounted men, 20
policewomen, 200 detectives and 41 temporary police, the latter drawn from the
ranks guarding the Columbus Day parade on Fifth Ave. New York Daily News
article on Frank Sinatra's concert in 1944. (New York Daily News)The crowd,
four abreast, stretched from the Paramount's gilded ticket office, right around
43d St. to Eighth Ave., from there to 44th and then eastward to Broadway. All
traffic had to be detoured between 43d and 44th Sts. for about an hour before
noon.The cause of it all, a vision in brown slacks, brown and yellow plaid
jacket, flaming orange sweater and tie and a white shirt with points like two
pieces of pie, came on the stage shortly after 10 A.M.He opened his mouth. The
auditorium trembled with juvenile acclaim and the audience rose. He closed his
mouth.Five minutes later he opened it again - and sang.Music - and Words.He
sand "I'll Walk Alone," "Come Out" and "There'll Be a Hot Time in the Town of
Berlin," but no one could hear him for the applause. He smiled tentatively and
the footlights shone on his healthy tan makeup."Now," he said, "I want to sing
a very beautiful song, "Old Man River.'" He did and you were able to
distinguish such phrases as "he don't say nothin', he just keeps rollin'," etc.
This classic sobered his audience down to a roar.
"I hope you appreciated that song," he said, "because the music is very
beautiful. I don't want to preach to you about music, but I do want you to
realize there is more than one kind."And now, I'd like to 'sing a song which is
often sung to babies, the Brahms "Lullaby." Many in the audience listened
respectfully.Anything Goes.Frankie said he hoped they appreciated THAT. "As
long as you sing it, Frankie, we like it!" they intoned. Then he tried to go
offstage. He got off once but was shouted back on. Finally, he refused encores,
blew the cultists a kiss with both hands and disappeared - until the next
show.The audience sat practically solid through two shows. After Frankie had
appeared the second time, however, about half departed, walking on air.
