SHORT MOMENTS IN HISTORY

Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Frank Sinatra.
We’re all mindful of the situation overseas, and should any bulletins arrive from Invasion Headquarters, our programme will be interrupted so that you can here them immediately. Thank you very much.

This announcement was heard over CBS throughout America on Wednesday evening of June 7, 1944, at 6pm Los Angeles Time (9pm New York City time) – a Sinatra moment tied to „big history“.

The day before, at dawn on June 6, Allied Forces had started their big invasion of the French Channel coastline, known as operation D-Day, which caught the occupying German troops by surprise. After gruesome battles with heavy losses on both sides, this operation would finally lead to the liberation of France, and subsequently Germany, from Nazi rulership: What started on this day was the end of Third Reich.

On June 7, however, just about a day after the operation had started, nothing was determined yet, while the whole world was anxiously listening to any news. It happened to be the regular evening for „The Frank Sinatra Programme“, Sinatra’s weekly CBS broadcast of 30 minutes, that ran from January to June 1944 and was sponsored by Vimms Vitamins, featuring Sinatra accompanied by Axel Stordahl & Orchestra, and a different celebrity guest each week. The normal start of the show was an Opening Theme fanfare (This Love Of Mine, the song FS had co-written and made famous by his recording with Dorsey a few years earlier) and some welcome comments by announcer Truman Bradley – on this special date it was the above statement by Sinatra that came first, before the usual opening theme.

I think it is a safe bet that Sinatra and his team, who were broadcasting from Hollywood that week, gave a lot of extra thought into this day’s programme, and I also think it might be appropiate to recall the show now, 60 years after it happened.

„...and here again is Frank!“, Bradley concludes his opening announcements, and then Sinatra embarks on a swinging version of a special song that fitted the occasion: „There’ll Be A Hot Time In The Town Of Berlin (when the Yanks go marchin‘ in)“, a Joe Bushkin-John de Vries composition he had introduced the year before, and also recorded for V-Disc and for a 1944 short movie (these versions have been officially released on the „V Discs“ set by Columbia/Legacy and the „Sinatra In Hollywood“ box by Reprise/Rhino respectively). It was, of course, a propaganda song, but it is fascinating to listen to those lyrics today, just another reminder of how much Sinatra, even at the early stages of his career, is part of history in itself:
we gonna take a hike / through Hitler’s Reich / and change that „Heil!“ to „Gimme some skin!“

Next is Sinatra with a short introduction again:
Sometimes music can be more eloquent than the spoken word, and is off times‘ company for those who have a loved one far away.
And off he goes with „I hear music when I look at you...“, his charmingly innocent rendition of „The Song Is You“, the chestnut by Jerome Kern and Oscar Hammerstein that he had already recorded on his first solo session in January 1942, and that would accompany him for the next 4 decades. I think this song somewhat chrystallizes the early Sinatra sounds, his masterful handling of the melody is irresistable, as is that ‚swooning touch‘. And his introduction also hints at another secret for his 40s success, the love songs he sang so superbly in those months and years indeed became a bond between lovers, and families, separated by the war.

After an instrumental version of „Poinciana“ (a song Sinatra would later, in 1946 and 1947, record twice for Columbia), there is some small talk with the show’s celebrity guest of honour, actress Jane Wyman (*1914), who at the time was just starting her career at Warner Bros., and by the way, at the time was married to a then unknown fellow actor named Ronald Reagan.

Then its music again – something from „south of the border“, as Sinatra puts it, gentle rhumba and, at the bridge, also a few tango sounds by Stordahl, with the Sunny Skylar-Gabriel Ruiz composition of „Amor (Amor, Amor)“, quite a hit then (and more recently, another big hit for Spanish singer Julio Iglesias). It is a fine rendition, with Frank doing the lyrics in English (Iglesias later did them in Spanish), but while Sinatra sang it frequently on radio in the mid-40s, he never did a studio recording of it, and still awaits official release.

„The folks at Birmingham Hospital right here in Venice, California“, says Sinatra of the injured soldiers reconvalescenting there, had been begging him to do Rodgers & Hart’s „Where Or When“ on his show, a wish that on this date he followed. Being familiar with the song ever since his first solo concerts at the Paramount in December 1942, Sinatra sings a Stordahlesc, violin-and-background-chorus („The-Vimms Vocalists“)-dominated version that much resembles the version issued on V-Disc from January 1945, as heard on the Columbia/Legacy V-Disc-set. It is a selection that would accompany Sinatra for more than half a century, right down to his very last concert performance in 1995, and at least to my ears, these early renditions have their own charm.

With the orchestra having performed an instrumental chart of „Just You, Just Me“, Sinatra then introduces the emotional, and patriotic highlight of the show:
A little while ago, we said that music can be more eloquent than the spoken word. Sometimes music stimulates our hopes for the future, for the day when peace will come, and all of us will sing: „Oooooh beauuuuutifulll for spaaaaacious skiieeesssss.....
America The Beautiful, again accompanied by the Vimms Vocalists.
Sinatra would record a very similar version for Columbia in 1945 (and of course, also re-do it grandly in 1963 for Reprise), and kept singing it in concert until 1991, but this D-Day-show’s performance so far is the earliest documented rendition by The Voice of this song which, as I understand, is sort of a ‚second national anthem‘ to many Americans.
I don’t think his picking it on this date was a coincidence. It’s open to imagination what its impact was upon many who had turned on their radio sets that night, but I would think, that they might have been as moved by it as, in a totally different sense and perspective, one still gets today when listening to such a broadcast (which happily survived through all these years and will hopefully see an official release soon).

Sometimes music can be more eloquent than the spoken word...
That’s what Sinatra says on this broadcast, and I have a very personal story that, for me, is forever attached to both that sentence by Sinatra, and to D-Day. I am recollecting it from memory here.

In 1990, together with a friend from the university I was studying at, we were making a three-week holiday trip by car along the Channel and Atlantic coastline from southern Belgium all the way down through Normandy and Bretagne to „Cap Finistère“. Of course, during our journey, we also visited the region of Bayeux (with its world-famous medieval tapestry), and some of the beaches where D-Day took place, e.g. Omaha beach. Being aware of what had happened there, and having visited the local museum with lots of exponats and photos before which refreshed our knowledge, we went for a stroll along Omaha beach, looking at the surviving „documents“ (rusty boats, old bombshells) still there. It was a peaceful, sunny summer’s day, quite an awkwardly nice setting for trying to imagine what happened there in 1944.

An old man, dressed in summer clothes, white hair, using a stick for walking, whom we had noticed standing silently at the beach and staring the waterfront, approached us, asking in English whether we were German (he probably had heard us talking in German). As we responded yes, he said „please come along with me“, and he led us a few hundred meters or so along the beach, until at a spot that (to us) looked nothing particular, just the same beachline as before, he stopped.

„This“, he said, „was were I landed in 1944.“ It was then that we finally realised he was an US invasion army veteran. „And this, also, was the place where I lost my best friend.“ They had been together since childhood, he told us, and joined the Army together, and came to Omaha beach together that June 6. „I had two seconds to say good-bye“, he said, „or else I would have been the next to be shot. I grabbed his identification mark and ran for cover in the Dunes“. He paused. „He was my best friend, you know“, he then said, and he started to cry a little. It was his first time ever coming back to the location.

Imagine us two young students standing there and listening to this. Boy. We were sulking at least, and we didn’t know what to say. But before we could do anything, he came forward and embraced both of us firmly. „You see“, he said, „to be standing here today, at this spot, and meet two young German people, and talk to them, and be friends with them, that’s what shows me that my friend did not die in vain. You cannot imagine how much this means to me“.

(continued below)

He told us about his later fate, how he continued with the troops until the German boarder, then was wounded and got back home, and about his family in Illinois, and about how for all these years he had wanted to come back once more to Omaha beach, and how all of his family and friends had urged him not to do so, in order not to stir up old and sad memories. He asked us about what we were doing, about our studies and plans, and when after an hour or two we said good-bye to each other, shaking hands, he said:
„You see: I came to Omaha to make friends – then and now. I’m happy to see I was right.“
The words repeat in my ear to this date.
His name was Michael J. Brooks, and he died in the late 90s. Whenever I see pictures, documentaries etc. of D-Day since then, I have to think of him. God bless him.

During our conversation, he had also asked us about our favourite music. At the time, I already was into Sinatra but by travel companion wasn’t (in fact, he hated it – which led to some „quarrel“ before the journey, as to what tapes we should take along to listen to in the car), while we agreed on Bruce Springsteen being a favourite, so that was our response.
The old man shook his head and said something like „okay, my grandchildren play that kinda noise as well all the time... but as long as everyone keeps listening to the same noise on both sides of the ocean, maybe there’s less wars, ain’t?“

Yes, sometimes, music can be more eloquent than the spoken word:
A world-wide symphony.

Bernhard.

[brooklynbabe]

Bernhard,
I've just read these posts twice, they had such an effect on me. Thankyou for sharing your story.

Bernhard, wonderful just wonderful!!! Thank you

Charlie

[Paolo]

thanks for the article, Bernhard. Best, Paolo.

[pattisam]

<< „This“, he said, „was were I landed in 1944.“ >>

Wiping my eyes. I am speechless. The history, the information you're provided, the scenes you've recreated in my imagination. The voice of Frank on the radio.

Bernhard....thank you, from the bottom of my heart. This is another keeper.

Wonderful post Bernard...I too have toured that famous beach. My Uncle was killed landing there....I did some research when I got older and found out he lasted about 10 seconds after departing the landing craft on Omaha Beach...One of his buddies who survived told me it could be captioned.."Welcome to Hell"...

Bernhard,

Thank you for sharing this wonderful article with us.

Very emotional and heartfelt words from our very beloved Frank.

[Ronald Sarbo]

"A then unknown fellow actor named Ronald Reagan"?

On June 6, 1944 Reagan was already an established star and was in the service.

He had already been under contract for 7 years at Warner Bros. and had already made his greatest films: Knute Rockne All American, Dark Victory, and King's Row from which the title of his first auto-biography "Where's The Rest Of Me" comes from.

Jane Wyman's greatest film and Oscar winning performance, Johnny Belinda was still to come.

When Reagan returned from the war he was never able to re-gain the position he had prior and thus began his odyssy to a political career. This shift in the careers of Wyman and Reagan may have accounted for their break-up.

The Germans were certainly doubly disappointed by 6/7/44.

By the success of the invasion and Sinatra's broadcast.

They were fans of "Der Bingle".

Thanks Nancy Ann, Char, Patti, Paolo, Mel and Carolyn for the kind comments.

Being away for a conference for the rest of the week, have a nice one, and see you all again next week.

Bernhard.

PS: "Happy 3000" to me

[Pedro]

Hi pal,

That was a very good essay about Delivery Day.

Have a good conference!

Pedro.

[Lourdes]

Thanks for the memory. Wonderful article!
Have a good time at the conference!

[Adam]

Thanks for that Bernhard, moving story.

Its a strange week this week.

Adam

[russkish3]

This recent posting from Bernhard is yet another example of the real worth of The Sinatra Family Forum. It underscores the contribution Frank Sinatra made during one of the most trying times in global history. The anecdotes that conclude his posting are so vivid, they feel cinematic. I can almost see the scenes in my mind.

Best regards,

Russell Kishi
Glendale, California

[ARIES3032]

Tho' I was 12 years old, I remember that date. That you Berhnad so very much for sharing your dstory, it brought tears to my eyes.

[Barry]

Hello Bernhard
Thank you.
You are a gem.
Barry.

Bumping for the rendition of "America The Beautiful" which aired on Nancy's show #6 this week on Sirius.

Bump for the 64th anniversary of D-Day.

[SinatraFan]

This is a great thread! Thanks for the bump, Bob.

[Carolinagirl]

I would have missed it, too, if it hadn't been bumped. What a great speech by Frank and how nice to connect him to the very important day in history.