Product Description

"Mr. S: My Life with Frank Sinatra, by former valet-aide George Jacobs with an oh-so-able assist by William Stadiem, has at least five quotable and shocking remarks about the famous on every page. The fifteen years Jacobs toiled for Frank produces a classic of its genre -- a gold-star gossip-lover's dream....

"The rest is showbiz history as it was, and only Ava Gardner, Humphrey Bogart, and Betty Bacall are spared. Marilyn Monroe, Judy Garland, Juliet Prowse, Noel Coward, Cole Porter, Mia Farrow, Elvis Presley, Swifty Lazar, Dean Martin, Peggy Lee, Sammy Davis Jr., Marlene Dietrich, Greta Garbo, Jimmy van Heusen, Edie Goetz, Peter Lawford, and all of the Kennedys come in for heaping portions of 'deep dish,' served hot. Sordid, trashy, funny, and so rat-a-tat with its smart inside info and hip instant analysis that some of it seems too good to be true....

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #116890 in Books
• Published on: 2004-04
• Released on: 2004-04-06
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Paperback
• 288 pages

About the Author
George Jacobs has refused countless offers to tell his story. Until now. A master chef and carpenter, he lives not far from the old Sinatra compound in Palm Springs, Florida, where he continues to be one of the toasts of that star-filled town.

Customer Reviews

Absolutely Heartbreaking....
"Mr. S: My Life with Frank Sinatra," written by George Jacobs - Frank's valet/personal assistant; friend; confidante of 15 years, is a very candid and extremely engrossing book. In every page, it is clear that George Jacobs truly loved Frank Sinatra as a brother. Although I knew quite a bit about Frank Sinatra's life already, I was totally unprepared for how interesting and "can't-put-it-down" this book turned out to be. I loved it.

Frank Sinatra was the best of men and the absolute worst of men. He was the most generous of men and yet he was the most vindictive of men as well. He was a contradiction in human nature in extremes. If you even slightly offended him or were perceived as disloyal, you seldom got another chance.

George tells of his relationship with Frank and Frank's rise and fall and rise back again to fame. He writes of his adventures with Frank's family and how wonderful "Big Nancy" was to Frank - long after the divorce. After reading this, I truly thought Frank Sinatra's first wife was a saint!

I expected this book to touch on just the superficial, but it really delved into a part of our history. Like millions of baby boomers, I idolized John F. Kennedy. Yes - I knew that he had an affair with Marilyn Monroe, but I didn't know about the barrage of call girls and cocaine. When JFK was campaigning, he asked George, "What do colored people want?" Diplomatically, George responded that he didn't know and asked Jack what he wanted (for our country). JFK, with a big leering grin, responded," I want to f*ck every woman in Hollywood." Statements like this just amazed me.

As we all know, Joe Kennedy Sr. had many mob connection from his bootlegging days. This book relates how Illinois was virtually a present to JFK from the mob in the election.

I had heard about the helicopter pad that Frank Sinatra was reported to have destroyed when John Kennedy's visit was cancelled, but I wasn't aware of the extent of John's deception. Frank Sinatra spent over a year campaigning for JFK; having "High Hopes" written and performed; and spending a fortune in anticipation of JFK's visit. Without Joe's influence, John totally turned his back on Sinatra and decided to stay at Bing Crosby's (who had supported Nixon)! Moreover, it was highly likely that he set things in motion for Marilyn's death when she threatened to expose their affair. Bobby Kennedy (whom I had also admired) and Jackie were even more ungrateful than John.

No one deserved what Woody Allen did to Mia Farrow later in life, but I couldn't help thinking that Mia was so wrong in not setting the record straight with Frank about her dancing with George. George was "babysitting" Mia and trying to pacify her when she dragged him onto the dance floor. When the paparazzi went wild with these pictures, George's life was to change forever. As a result, he was literally fired overnight by Frank Sinatra. George had money saved, but it is clear that he never recovered from this blow dealt to him by Sinatra.

My heart absolutely broke for George Jacobs. I literally cried when he tells how he burst into tears upon seeing Frank after 10 years. Frank went over and touched his shoulder and said, "Forget about it kid. It ain't so bad." I do feel Frank Sinatra "forgave" George, but I believe that Barbara Marx would never have allowed him to rehire George because he knew too much about her past.

I had always believed Barbara Marx to be a charitable woman with a great deal of class. She was actually a Vegas showgirl from a poor background who married the much older Zeppo. Everyone knew that she was simply trying to marry money and that she regularly cheated on Zeppo - often with Sinatra. He had known her for years. George was not even allowed to attend Frank Sinatra's funeral - but instead had to watch from across the street.

In the end, one realizes that George Jacobs has found peace. He honestly didn't deserve the low blow that Sinatra dealt him. However, you also realize that through his own insecurities, Frank Sinatra lost one of his dearest friends who loved him most. In the end, Frank Sinatra was the one who lost the most. I truly pray that Sinatra came to know this.

Amazing Document of Cultural History
I didn't have high expectations for this book. The British royal family has shown us that tell-alls by "valets" and the like leave much to be desired, but this book was a wonderful surprise. It serves not only as an unusual insight into an American icon -- Frank Sinatra -- but also a cultural history of a young black man, George Jacobs, coming of age in the 1950's and 1960's with a front row seat on some of the most important figures of our time from Joe Kennedy to Ava Gardner to Sammy Davis, Jr. I think this book gives provocative insight on our American history through the lens of race, gender and popular culture.

Chronicles What an Unrepetant Jackass Sinatra Really Was.
Don't get me wrong. I'm a Sinatra Fan. Of his music. I never did buy into the crock of b.s. that painted him as some sort of cultural hero. And I always figured it would just be a matter of time before someone who worked this close to Sinatra would spill the beans. And it's all here. His double standards shine like the Hope Diamond. Do as I say and not as I do seems to be the recurring theme in the Frank Sinatra mantra. He demanded fidelity from his wives, but kept hookers by the dozen at any given time and paid for their abortions like they were monthly Visa bills while everyone else painted him as the picture perfect father of Nancy, Tina and Frank, Jr. His mob ties are legendary and by now general knowledge. Here we find Jacobs giving us all the juicy details. For some reason, the pay was good enough for Jacobs to tolerate Sinatra's unending racial and ethnic slurs which he apparently tossed around freely, never fearing consequence. Yet, for his entire career Sinatra was championed as a great Civil Rights pioneer. Okay, but any Civil Rights pioneer shouldn't toss the N word around so freely. It's not until the late sixties that Sinatra becomes a philanthropist of sorts to untarnish his disgusting image. Jacobs paints an interesting portrait of Old Blue Eyes as the Ultimate Paradox. I found the writing tight, honest and overall it's a book I couldn't put down once I picked it up. Unfortunately, Jacobs himself was kicked out of the Sinatra fold eventually, which makes the story all that more credible. I walked away from the book with a bevy of emotions, angry mostly, that such a talent could be such a jerk for most of his life. There were consequences for the Chairman always wanting to have it his way in his personal and professional life, and now that he's gone we may never know how it might've played out. Today I imagine Frank Sinatra would've been diagnosed as some sort of bi-polar idiot. God knows half of our musicians use that condition as an excuse for their stupid behavior. There indeed is a fine line between genius and lunacy. You'll read Jacob's memoir and walk away satisfied yet ticked off. Guaranteed.