[SinatraFan]

(From the Guestbook page and the online book Frank Sinatra: An American Legend by Nancy Sinatra )

DECEMBER 27–30, 1984: At the Golden Nugget in Las Vegas.

DECEMBER 26, 1982–JANUARY 1, 1983: On vacation in Acapulco.

DECEMBER 27, 1980–JANUARY 1, 1981: FS celebrated New Year's Eve with his audience at Resorts International in Atlantic City.

DECEMBER 29, 1978–JANUARY 7, 1979: Dad worked through the New Year's holiday at the Sunrise Musical Theater in Fort Lauderdale. Then he and Barbara flew to Barbados for a brief vacation.

DECEMBER 29, 1947: FS starred with Gene Kelly and Kathryn Grayson in a Lux Radio Theater production of Anchors Aweigh. Heard every Monday night, the shows were sponsored by Lux soap and hosted by William McGee. They were one-hour, abridged adaptations of popular movies of the day, usually starring two or three of the movie's key players.

DECEMBER 18, 1940–JANUARY 14, 1941: Frank Sinatra returned to New York with the [Tommy Dorsey] band for a second big run at the Paramount.

[Dates of new entries highlighted in blue]

[SinatraFan]

(From the Guestbook page and the online book Frank Sinatra: An American Legend by Nancy Sinatra )

DECEMBER 27–30, 1984: At the Golden Nugget in Las Vegas.

DECEMBER 26, 1982–JANUARY 1, 1983: On vacation in Acapulco.

DECEMBER 27, 1980–JANUARY 1, 1981: FS celebrated New Year's Eve with his audience at Resorts International in Atlantic City.

DECEMBER 29, 1978–JANUARY 7, 1979: Dad worked through the New Year's holiday at the Sunrise Musical Theater in Fort Lauderdale. Then he and Barbara flew to Barbados for a brief vacation.

DECEMBER 30, 1968: Dad ended the year by recording "My Way." In 1969, it hit the Top 10 in this country and in England, where it had the longest run of any song in British chart history—120 weeks! The song was co-written in French by François and Revaux. When Dad first played it for me at Caesars Palace in its original version, we thought it might be an important piece of material, though we didn't understand the words. Paul Anka wrote the English lyrics, and you know the rest. Dad was, at 54, young enough to sing the almost morbid words, "And now the end is near, and so I face the final curtain," without it depressing him or me. Now, almost 30 years later, I don't like to hear it anymore. I'd rather listen to "Mrs. Robinson" or "All My Tomorrows" from the 1969 My Way album. Ed Thrasher's photos and presentation are sensational. Also in 1968 Frank Sinatra was voted Top Male Vocalist in the Playboy Jazz Poll and inducted into the Playboy Hall of Fame.

Left: John Bryson: "He has fought his way through a lifetime of adulation, loathing, criticism, riches, scandal, decline, triumph...to a point where...the man is some kind of folk hero."

Right: "Given a choice, I would choose to have a magic wand that I could use to draw a melody from that enchanted maze of brass and keys and wood and wind and steel. And I would stand there, big and brave, and quietly say, Gentlemen, play for me...Play for me..." —Gordon Jenkins

DECEMBER 30, 1944: When his two-year contract with Your Hit Parade came up for a one-year option renewal, producer George Washington Hill balked when Frank asked for a raise, so my father proposed a 13-week layoff instead. Hill wouldn't agree to that either, or to moving the whole show to the West Coast, so Frank ended his relationship with the program and was replaced by Metropolitan Opera star Lawrence Tibbett—at $3,500 a week.

DECEMBER 30, 1942: With tremendous fanfare, Frank Sinatra was about to create the first generation gap. He opened with Benny Goodman, the "King of Swing," at New York's Paramount Theatre and—with wife Nancy watching from the audience in disbelief—literally brought down the house. In the weeks that followed, SRO audiences of teenagers stomped and swooned as thousands more waited in line outside chanting, "Frankie, Frankie!" His original two-week engagement at the Paramount was extended for eight additional weeks, shattering Bing Crosby's 15-year-old record. Within a month Dad's salary leaped from $750 a week to $25,000, and he was being called "The Voice"—a national phenomenon and the hottest new singing star in show-business history.

"Bob Weitman called and asked if I wanted to play along with a Crosby movie and the Benny Goodman Orchestra," my father recalled. "When I came around the corner in a taxi and saw the marquee with my name on it I was knocked out. The sound that greeted me was absolutely deafening, a tremendous roar. Five thousand kids, stamping, yelling, screaming, applauding. They let out a yell and I thought the roof would come off. I was scared stiff. I couldn't move a muscle. Benny Goodman froze too. He turned around, looked at the audience and said, 'What the hell is that?' I burst out laughing."

But the schedule at the Paramount was grueling. "We had rehearsal at 7:00 a.m. and did six or seven performances a day, eleven on Saturdays, the movie ran in between each show. It was hard, but we were young and we were strong and we liked it." Bob Weitman remembers that "there were about 5,000 people in the theater. And all 5,000 were of one voice, 'F-R-A-N-K-I-E-E-E-E-E-!' As they danced in the aisles and on the stage, the loge and the balcony swayed. One of the managers came over to me and said, 'The balcony is rocking. What do we do?' We struck up the National Anthem."

My mother made the soft, floppy bow ties that he wore. They were becoming a trademark. "I had a terrible time keeping him in ties. Fans would yank them off of him for souvenirs. I made them by the dozens." Until his press agent's office took over, Mom was in charge of his fan mail. "I sent out hundreds of pictures. I would sign his name, then copy his signature because he didn't have time for that. My sisters would help in addressing the envelopes. We'd do it a couple hours a night." As she remembered, "It was exciting and it was a lot of work. It was constant work. Frank worked very, very hard. He'd come home so tired, he'd just flop. And I'd think, 'Whatever happens, it's going to be worth it because he's giving his all.' "

Mom kept a copy of the program for Dad's first historic appearance at the Paramount.

JACK BENNY ON FRANK'S FIRST NIGHT AT THE PARAMOUNT: Theater manager Bob Weitman asked if I could come over to the Paramount for the debut of Frank Sinatra. I said, "Who the hell is Frank Sinatra?" He said to me, "You mean you never heard of Frank Sinatra? He's the hottest thing in the country right now." I said, "I'm sorry. I've never heard of him, but I'll do this for you and Benny Goodman, and Sinatra too if it's any help." So they introduce me to this skinny little kid called Frank Sinatra. I shook hands with him and said hello, and he said, "Hello, Mr. Benny." Now it's time for the introductions, and first Benny Goodman went on and did his act. And then he says, "Now, ladies and gentlemen, to introduce our honored guest we have Jack Benny." I certainly didn't think Sinatra would get much of anything 'cause I never heard of him. So I did two or three jokes, and they laughed, and then I realized there were a lot of young people out there, and they were probably just waiting for Sinatra. So I introduced him as if he were one of my closest friends. And then I said, "Well, anyway, ladies and gentlemen, here he is, Frank Sinatra." And I thought the god-damned building was going to cave in. I never heard such a commotion, with people running down to the stage screaming and nearly knocking me off the ramp. All this for a fellow I never heard of.

George Evans: George Evans (shown over Frank's right shoulder) was the brilliant press agent Dad hired when he began his solo career. According to Bob Weitman, manager of the Paramount Theatre, Evans hired some teenage girls to swoon and faint. [See Swooners, below.] He thought it would make a good story for the press. But it turned out to be an unnecessary publicity stunt. The fire had ignited quite well on its own and the girls needed no provocation. The understandably frightened faces of the young people and the police show how group admiration can turn into unintended mob violence. Jack Entratter is the large man to Frank's left.

DECEMBER 18, 1940–JANUARY 14, 1941: Frank Sinatra returned to New York with the [Tommy Dorsey] band for a second big run at the Paramount.

[Dates of new entries highlighted in blue]

[SinatraFan]

(From Frank Sinatra: An American Legend by Nancy Sinatra )

Sinatra's fans were mostly young girls. In acknowledgment of the ankle-high socks they wore, usually with saddle shoes, they were labeled bobby-soxers. The ones who fainted away at the sound or sight of Sinatra were called swooners.

SWOONERS

From the very first show, Sinatramania took on a life of its own. Trying to keep crowds thronging the streets outside the Paramount to a minimum, Bob Weitman, the theater manager, went to extraordinary efforts to clear the house between performances. Booking the worst movies he could find to show between stage performances, he required patrons to leave box lunches at a checkstand. But this didn't prevent thousands from smuggling sandwiches, fruit and candy in their clothing so they could stay in their seats.

Newspapers of the time reported on the extreme devotion of many of his fans. Some were soon signing letters to friends "Frankly yours" and writing F.S. instead of P.S. for postscript. Members of fan clubs like the Slaves of Sinatra pinned club buttons over their hearts and on their socks and wrote his name on their coats and sweaters. One even inscribed the titles of 200 Sinatra songs on the back of her jacket; another did her hair in twin braids, labeling one "Frankie"and the other "Sinatra." And one girl, after accidentally being brushed by Dad's arm, covered the spot with a bandage which she refused to remove for weeks. Some begged him to autograph their bras, and others bribed hotel chambermaids for a brief opportunity to enter his empty room and lie between the sheets of his bed, finish the remains of his morning cornflakes and even fish a cigarette butt from an ashtray.

Dad's fame was equally hard on his wardrobe, which included 50 suits, 25 sport jackets, 100 pairs of slacks and 60 pairs of shoes. Not only did fans regularly tear his sleeves, lapels and buttons, they zeroed in on his trademark floppy bow ties—handmade by my mother—which become a prized souvenir. After a tussle with some of these schoolgirls, one of Dad's bodyguards, who had previously trained heavyweight boxers, said that prizefighters "fought cleaner" than these teenage girls.

According to E.J. Kahn Jr., a New Yorker writer who penned a 1946 book about Dad, most of his young fans were dazzled by Dad's lifestyle and yearned to share in it. With an estimated 40 million fans around the country, he was deluged with as many as 5,000 letters a week, including one in lipstick that said, "I love you so bad it hurts. Do you think I should see a doctor?" Even the family was deluged with as many as 2,000 letters a week.

Kahn also noted that "girls have plucked hairs from his head and collected clippings of his hair from barber shops. One Sinatra fan carries around, in a locket, what she insists is a Sinatra hangnail. 'I shiver all the way up and down my spine when you sing,' a girl wrote Sinatra, 'just like I did when I had scarlet fever.' As a rule, any public appearance by Sinatra is a guarantee of at least a modest riot. When he was to appear in a Boston armory, the management had the seats bolted to the floor..."

"The Paramount is the shrine of their disorder. Many of his fans literally consider the theater their home and spend the day in it, occupying a seat through a half a dozen shows for the price of one ticket. An admirer of Sinatra had to be taken to the hospital after her roommate, a Crosby fan, stabbed her with an ice pick during a debate."

Dad's most loyal fans never tried to speak to him or even ask for an autograph; they were content to merely stare. The winner of a 1946 "Why I Like Frank Sinatra" essay contest sponsored by a Detroit radio station spoke for all of them when she wrote, "He is one of the greatest things that ever happened to Teen Age America. We were kids that never got much attention, but he made us feel like we were worth something."

SINATRA FAN CLUB COORDINATOR MARJORIE DIVEN ON THE TYPICAL FAN: She's a 14-year-old girl living in a small town. She never gets to see anybody except her family—who haven't much money—and her schoolmates. She's lonely. On the way home from school, she stops at the drugstore for an ice cream soda and picks up a movie magazine. She reads about Frank's life and it sounds wonderful. She writes him a letter. She imagines he gets about six or seven letters a day, and she visualizes him at his breakfast table with her letter propped against the toaster. She calculates how long it will take for his answer to come to her. When the time arrives and she hears the postman coming, she runs down the lane to her mailbox, one of those wobbly rural boxes. She's kept this up for three weeks, while her family makes fun of her. It's the thought of that 14-year-old girl running down that lane to that wobbly mailbox that makes me sympathetic to the fans.

(From the Guestbook page and the online book Frank Sinatra: An American Legend by Nancy Sinatra )

DECEMBER 26, 1982–JANUARY 1, 1983: On vacation in Acapulco.

DECEMBER 31, 1982: He celebrated New Year's Eve at Walter Annenberg's Palm Springs home.

DECEMBER 27, 1980–JANUARY 1, 1981: FS celebrated New Year's Eve with his audience at Resorts International in Atlantic City.

DECEMBER 31, 1981: Frank and Barbara celebrated New Year's Eve at the Palm Springs home of Walter and Lee Annenberg.

DECEMBER 29, 1978–JANUARY 7, 1979: Dad worked through the New Year's holiday at the Sunrise Musical Theater in Fort Lauderdale. Then he and Barbara flew to Barbados for a brief vacation.

DECEMBER 31, 1975: A New Year's Eve performance at a packed Chicago Stadium.

DECEMBER 31, 1974: Frank ended the year with a performance at the Diplomat Hotel in Hollywood, Florida.

DECEMBER 31, 1972: He attended a New Year's Eve party with Barbara Marx in Palm Springs at the home of Walter Annenberg, publisher of TV Guide and former ambassador to the Court of St. James.

DECEMBER 31, 1946: My mother discovered a diamond bracelet in the glove compartment of the new Cadillac convertible that Dad was teaching her to drive. Figuring it was a gift for her, she said nothing. But that night at the family New Year's Eve party, she spied actress Marilyn Maxwell wearing the bracelet. Outraged, she ordered Maxwell out of the house and then confronted her husband: "How dare you shame me in my own home? My father fooled around on my mother, but I won't stand for it!" Contrite, Dad protested later, "But she doesn't mean anything to me. No one could compare to you." Glaring at him, she said, "Go to hell." But she forgave him and they made up—for the moment. It wasn't a promising way to end the year.

"I'm not much to look at, nothin' to see
Just glad I'm livin' and lucky to be
I got a woman crazy for me
She's funny that way."

DECEMBER 18, 1940–JANUARY 14, 1941: Frank Sinatra returned to New York with the [Tommy Dorsey] band for a second big run at the Paramount.

[Dates of new entries highlighted in blue]

Today in FS history:

January 1st (Part 1)
January 1st (Part 2)
January 1st (Part 3)

Today in FS history: January 2nd

[Nancy]

Allen - where are you? Bob is cheating.

Just cheatin' myself, Nancy...

Allen is away, and he and I both agreed to do it this way for the new year. His posts have been primarily copies of mine from the previous year, and it's a lot of work to duplicate, change links, etc.

It only takes one extra click to reach the identical information.

Today in FS history: January 3rd

Today in FS history: January 4th

[Nancy]

The thread will die if we do it this way. Guaranteed.

Okey-dokey...

(From the Guestbook page and the online book Frank Sinatra: An American Legend by Nancy Sinatra )

JANUARY 4–9, 1987: He was in Hawaii to guest star in an episode of the CBS series Magnum, P.I., which aired February 25.

Dad had a great time in Hawaii working
on this episode of Magnum P.I. In one
of his best performances, he played a
former cop whose granddaughter was
brutally murdered.

JANUARY 1–6, 1986: Frank vacationed in Gstaad, Switzerland.

JANUARY 3–9, 1980: He kicked off the year at Caesars Palace in Las Vegas.

DECEMBER 29, 1978–JANUARY 7, 1979: Dad worked through the New Year's holiday at the Sunrise Musical Theater in Fort Lauderdale. Then he and Barbara flew to Barbados for a brief vacation.

JANUARY 4, 1971: FS performed at a gala in Los Angeles to celebrate the election of Ronald Reagan as governor of California.

JANUARY 4, 1949: Dad recorded 27 songs for Columbia [in 1949]—among them "Some Enchanted Evening" and "Just a Kiss Apart." In this Hollywood recording session, he sang "Kisses and Tears"—this version was unreleased—and "If You Stub Your Toe on the Moon."

DECEMBER 18, 1940–JANUARY 14, 1941: Frank Sinatra returned to New York with the [Tommy Dorsey] band for a second big run at the Paramount.

[Dates of new entries highlighted in blue]

(From the Guestbook page and the online book Frank Sinatra: An American Legend by Nancy Sinatra )

JANUARY 4–9, 1987: He was in Hawaii to guest star in an episode of the CBS series Magnum, P.I., which aired February 25.

JANUARY 1–6, 1986: Frank vacationed in Gstaad, Switzerland.

JANUARY 3–9, 1980: He kicked off the year at Caesars Palace in Las Vegas.

DECEMBER 29, 1978–JANUARY 7, 1979: Dad worked through the New Year's holiday at the Sunrise Musical Theater in Fort Lauderdale. Then he and Barbara flew to Barbados for a brief vacation.

JANUARY 5–FEBRUARY 1, 1966: Frank Sinatra and Count Basie at the Sands in Las Vegas. Ten shows were recorded and edited by Reprise and later released as Sinatra at the Sands, arranged and conducted by Quincy Jones. The songs included "I've Got You Under My Skin," "September of My Years," "You Make Me Feel So Young," "Luck Be a Lady," "It Was a Very Good Year," "My Kind of Town," "One for My Baby," "Fly Me to the Moon," "Angel Eyes," "Where or When," "Come Fly with Me" and more. It won the Grammy for Stan Cornyn's liner notes.

JANUARY 5, 1944: Still holding on to his weekly Hit Parade gig, Dad ended Songs by Sinatra and hopscotched to still another half-hour weekly CBS radio series: The Frank Sinatra Show, a stylish starring vehicle emceed by comedian Jerry Lester with unconventional guest stars such as Metropolitan Opera basso profundo Lauritz Melchior and Rita Stearns, a Washington, D.C., high school senior who penned a winning 50-word essay on what "The Voice" meant to her.

"Do you mind waiting a few minutes,
Henry? I'm listening to Frank Sinatra."

DECEMBER 18, 1940–JANUARY 14, 1941: Frank Sinatra returned to New York with the [Tommy Dorsey] band for a second big run at the Paramount.

[Dates of new entries highlighted in blue]

(From the Guestbook page and the online book Frank Sinatra: An American Legend by Nancy Sinatra )

JANUARY 6, 1994: Attended memorial service for Irving "Swifty" Lazar at the Westwood Village Memorial Park.

JANUARY 4–9, 1987: He was in Hawaii to guest star in an episode of the CBS series Magnum, P.I., which aired February 25.

JANUARY 1–6, 1986: Frank vacationed in Gstaad, Switzerland.

JANUARY 6–12, 1983: Dad returned to Caesars Palace.

JANUARY 3–9, 1980: He kicked off the year at Caesars Palace in Las Vegas.

DECEMBER 29, 1978–JANUARY 7, 1979: Dad worked through the New Year's holiday at the Sunrise Musical Theater in Fort Lauderdale. Then he and Barbara flew to Barbados for a brief vacation.

JANUARY 6, 1977: [See Grandma's Mountain]

JANUARY 5–FEBRUARY 1, 1966: Frank Sinatra and Count Basie at the Sands in Las Vegas...[See January 5th]

JANUARY 6, 1958: Come Fly with Me, Dad's first stereo album, hit number one on the charts with songs like "Isle of Capri," "Moonlight in Vermont," "Autumn in New York," "Let's Get Away from it All" and "Blue Hawaii." This was the first time he actually worked with arranger Billy May. The last song they were recording one night was "The Road to Mandalay." They went through it, and when they did "And the dawn comes up like thunder—Bong—outta China... 'cross the bay," percussionist Lou Singer hit the gong cue with gusto. Billy May remembered, "That gong was big, like the one on the J. Arthur Rank movie logo. And when Lou hit it, it rang and rang. When Frank heard it the first time he said, 'Yeah! Let me hear it again.' BONNGGG... He said, 'Yeah, Billy. Let's end it with the gong—and let the mother ring!'"

FRANK JR. ON THE NEW SOUNDS: I can remember when Come Fly with Me was released... waking up after this album had been shipped to the disc jockeys in L.A. and—during traffic hour, which is the biggest sales time on radio—I can remember the morning disc jockey at the top station in town playing the whole side of this album and saying, "We’ll be back with the second side of this new Sinatra album after this commercial." Played the whole side of one album—and during traffic hour! Nobody did that.

DECEMBER 18, 1940–JANUARY 14, 1941: Frank Sinatra returned to New York with the [Tommy Dorsey] band for a second big run at the Paramount.

[Dates of new entries highlighted in blue]

Mt. San Gorgonio, which we renamed Grandma's Mountain, also claimed the life of Dean Martin's son Dean Paul in 1987. Young Dino, an aspiring pilot, said when Grandma died, "That mountain shouldn't be there. It should be moved. It's a hazard to all pilots."

JANUARY 6, 1977: Dad opened once again at Caesars Palace. He flew to Las Vegas early in the day with a group of friends from Palm Springs. Grandma and her friend Anne Carbone were supposed to have gone with Dad, but—and this is so unlike her—Grandma didn't feel like it. She said she wanted to go later. She said she would come to the showroom directly from the airport.

When Dad left, a coming storm was already sweeping Los Angeles. Clouds and fog had darkened the pass and were coming in over the desert valley. That's when Grandma went on her odd errand. She asked Dad to give her the few pieces of jewelry she kept in his safe, because she now wanted to put them in her safe deposit box in the bank As if moved by some strange premonition, she ran that errand and a couple of others. Then she went home to dress.

Dolly was meticulous—again, like her son. Her hair was groomed at all times. I never saw her with curlers or pin curls. Once in a while I saw a clip holding an already carefully designed wave, but that was all. She had small hairpieces that augmented the upswept curls on her crown. She wore one this day. Her maid, Maria, watched her put it on.

Grandma bathed and splashed on her favorite White Water cologne. She dressed in her black brocade outfit and put on a pair of those funny little boots of hers. When my song "Boots" was climbing the charts, she used to say it was because of her boots. She had the boots made to order because the high tops helped to control a chronic swelling in her ankles.

Grandma did all the things she always did when she was going out, but this time she took longer to do them. She packed her rosary, her white lace handkerchief with the N on it, an extra pair of glasses, some breath mints, her allowance check, her money purse, her tiny religious medals, some small bobby pins and her compact in her black ostrich double-strapped handbag. Concerned about the time, Maria asked her if she needed help. Maria had not seen Mrs. S. like this before. Grandma was never late.

By the time she had buttoned her black broadtail coat and wrapped her kerchief around her head, the sky was black. It was the worst storm in years. Dolly was one hour late for the chartered plane that was to take her to Vegas. She said goodbye to Maria, then told her to remember that "if anything happens to me, everything goes to my grandson." She got in the car with Anne.

Our gardener, Angel, a dear, gentle man who has been part of our family for 25 years, drove them to the steps of the jet. Grandma said to Angel, "Remember, everything goes to my grandson."

I know how difficult it was for her to climb those steps. According to her doctor, she was only weeks away from needing a walker.

The plane taxied down runway three-zero and waited for clearance. Visibility was not good, with a low cloud cover on the ground. When they were airborne, visibility was almost zero. It was to be instruments all the way. They could see little from the starting end of the runway.

The Palm Springs Airport lies in the Coachella Valley, at a point where two mountain ranges come together, forming a V, or a pass. Looking toward L.A., Mount San Jacinto is on the left and Mount San Gorgonio is on the right. To fly to L.A. from runway three-zero, planes proceed due west, or left, heading for the pass. To fly to Las Vegas, however, the plane would have to turn northeast, or right, almost immediately and climb above 12,000 feet.

At 5:50 p.m. my mom phoned me. Mickey Rudin had called her to report that Grandma's plane was overdue. It had left Palm Springs at 5 p.m. and had been due in Las Vegas at 5:20 p.m. There had been no communication with it since 5:02.

We all knew it was over. We all hoped for a miracle.

Frank Sinatra did his opening show that night. I know he did it for his mother.

Dolly and Frank at his wedding reception.

The morning after the plane disappeared, my dad summoned Frankie, Tina and me. Hugh and I drove down. We kept the car radio and a second portable radio turned to the local news station, hoping to hear of that miracle. We went past the turnoff to the Rialto Airport at the foot of the San Bernardino Mountains. I couldn't take my eyes off those mountains. They were on our left and a little ahead of us for a while as we drove. They were majestic, covered with the whitest, heaviest snowfall I had ever seen up there. It was a little eerie, looking up at snow-covered mountains while we were riding in 80- or 90-degree heat.

I remember crying a lot on that drive and saying things like, "Maybe they were able to land," and "Maybe they're freezing up there." I remember needing my mother and missing my children. But mostly I remember a feeling I had never had before—as if I might explode, as if my body might blow apart. I think now that it was panic.

My brother was about 30 minutes ahead of us and had stopped at the rescue command center at the Rialto Airport. He spoke to a few of the volunteers and some reporters who were waiting for word. There was none. Mickey Rudin and Jilly Rizzo, who had flown into Rialto by helicopter, rode with Frankie to Palm Springs and slept all the way. They were exhausted; they had been up all night, trying to help.

When Hugh and I got to Palm Springs, we walked into a private Mass said by Father Geimer in Dad's living room. Dad was sitting in a chair, reading his missal. I sat down quickly and waited for some sort of calm to come, but none did. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. We were in a capsule, sort of floating.

After Mass, Dad and I held on to each other. I said, "Daddy, I don't know how to help you." And he said, "Just be here." I felt safe in his arms, my cheek resting on his soft beige pullover. He asked why I hadn't brought the children. I told him I had thought I should leave them home because at two-and-a-half years and 10 months old, they were very normal, very noisy. He just said, "Oh, OK."

Hugh and I looked at each other, understanding. The next day, Hugh went to Los Angeles and came back with the girls. I realized later, as I held them, that we needed their noises and smells and energy. Their mere presence gave us faith: They were still so fresh from God. I felt the same "safe" feeling with them in my arms.

There was no word about the plane. My brother spent most of his time in his room in the Christmas Tree House. My sister and I just sat or roamed around. People came by but didn't stay, an endless chain of sad, worried faces.

Angel and his son came. The boy, Ruben, had just come from the mountain, where he had been searching for "Mama." His clothes were still soaked from the snow and he was crying. He broke my heart.

In desperation, Tina and I spoke by phone with the famous psychic Peter Hurkos. He promised to concentrate on the problem and call back. Dad went up in a helicopter to help in the search. He found nothing. I was grateful for that.

The second night I sat with him in front of the fire. I asked what rescuers do when they find a plane down. I asked rather general questions, but he sensed my need and answered in specifics. He told me that if there were no survivors, they try to identify body parts and put them into separate bags. He told me carefully but thoroughly what the procedure is and how it is done. I wondered if he had asked someone the same thing that day. There was an odd comfort in hearing such matter-of-fact details.

By the third day we were all accepting the inevitable, I think, but as we admitted later, each had his or her own private bit of hope. Peter Hurkos phoned with a description of the location of the wreckage. I'll never forget the scene. Dad, Jilly, Tina, all of us leaning on the bar, studying the map with eyes open wide, ears hanging on Peter's every word, trying to pinpoint the spot on our map. He said the reason that the plane hadn't been spotted was that it had not gone straight but made a quick, sharp left turn. Was this our miracle? I conjured up a picture of Grandma, Anne and two pilots huddled together, trying to keep warm. I mean, they made a crash landing, they're injured, but they are alive.

Nothing useful came of the Hurkos call, but it was something to do. We went to bed without any resolution. We were saddened about the pilots, too. They were not just pilots, but human beings, with frailties, abilities, families. I thanked God for my children, for the continuity of life.

At 11:30 p.m. the intercom buzzed in our room. Barbara's voice said, "They found it."

It's amazing what hope can do for the human face and what the absence of hope does to that same face. I'll never forget coming from my room and seeing my father's face.

The wreckage had been located just yards away from where Dad had been up in the chopper the day before. In the last couple of seconds, the pilots must have seen the mountain because they pulled back on the stick to try to avoid crashing. They broke off treetops before they hit. The plane had split in two. The nose was shattered. The fuselage was pretty much intact. The pilots' bodies disintegrated on impact. There was nothing left of them to put into body bags. "Grandma was found strapped to her seat," Mickey said. I forced myself to believe that.

I kept thinking that somebody should go and look at the remains, make sure. "Mickey's going," someone said. "Jilly's going," someone else said later. As it turned out, nobody went. Nobody could face up to it.

A subsequent investigation and lawsuit disclosed that a controller at the Palm Springs Airport had used confusing language, which could have caused the pilot to think that he should maintain the current altitude and heading. Because of other air traffic in the area, he was required to keep to a 9,000-foot altitude. When he finally received clearance to increase his altitude, it was too late. With these problems and poor visibility, the little plane had gone almost straight into the mountain at full takeoff speed. The liability was divided approximately equally between the controller and the pilot, who had the final responsibility to know the airport and the surrounding terrain.

After the investigation, I was given Grandma's black double-strapped handbag, bent and twisted out of shape. But it wasn't burned. I still have it. And the few things she had so carefully put into it as she was dressing that day were unharmed.

At his mother's funeral.

When somebody he loved died, Daddy always needed to be alone for a while. Nobody could comfort him. But this time it was different. He needed us with him. The image of his mother blown to bits or twisted and broken or whatever happens in a plane crash must have almost destroyed him. The suddenness of it—alive one instant, dead the next—that's not the way you expect people to die. He had hired the plane for her. I'm sure he must have carried a lot of guilt about that. And Anne, Dolly's good friend from New Jersey, Dr. Carbone's wife—Dad had known her practically all his life.

Daddy doesn't talk much about his boyhood anymore. He used to, when Grandma was alive. And a lot of laughter has gone from his life. Yet there still must be solace somehow in looking up at that mountain, so much more beautiful and lasting a memorial than any graveyard, and getting a peaceful feeling from living in the shadow of Grandma's mountain.

DAD'S RELATIONSHIP WITH DOLLY: It was a crucial loss. They'd fought through his childhood and continued to do so to her dying day. But I believe that to counter her steel will, he'd developed his own. To prove her wrong when she belittled his choice of career, he'd transcended more fame than any American entertainer had ever achieved. Their friction first had shaped him, then, I think, remained to the end a litmus test of the grit in his bones. It helped keep him at the top of his game. There had been security in her strength and a sense of worth in being able to take care of her. Now there was a vast void of love and reliance and responsibility. And he was closer now, with both parents gone, to running out of his own seasons.

[Nancy]

I see Grandma's Mountain every day when I am here in the desert and the feelings it evokes are anger, sadness and pain. When you lose someone in a plane crash you can never forget those feelings.

[Gregory]

Originally Posted by Nancy

I see Grandma's Mountain every day when I am here in the desert and the feelings it evokes are anger, sadness and pain. When you lose someone in a plane crash you can never forget those feelings.

Thinking you you and Dolly today, Nancy.

[June]

I remember those days very well. Betty and I hung on to every newscast. Hoping and praying that Dolly would be found alive.

WE felt so sad for your loss. I still do...

[SinatraIsLove]

Nancy, I don't know what to say

My warmest thoughts and prayers are with you today

We love you.