> C’mere, kid On his 100th birthday, Frank Sinatra remains the embodiment of Old Vegas style and personality.
A century of cool Happy birthday, Sinatra, from famous friends whose memories make us miss you even more By John Katsilometes
Bob Anderson has been singing and performing this role all night, an adaptation that’s been a lifetime in the making. Over the previous two hours, the summer wind has blown in, luck has been a lady tonight, and the lady has been a tramp. 16 LasVegasWeekly.com December 3-9, 2015
Anderson sets his feet for the big finale, as someone shouts a song title. “You want ‘My Way?’” he says, squinting to find that voice in the crowd. “Okay, we’ll do it.” The great tribute artist then removes his tie, a certain indication that this spot-on interpretation of the man and his music is over. Frank Sinatra did not remove his tie onstage. Then Anderson, heeding the advice of his friend and mentor Tony Bennett, sings that last song as himself. “There will never be another Frank Sinatra,” he says. “My name is Bob Anderson.” The crowd’s response is a thunder of applause. The close of this performance, and this run of shows called Frank: The Man, the Music, is so bittersweet. The show helmed by Anderson, in full stage makeup and a vintage-era tuxedo, is coming to a halt at Palazzo Theatre after spending almost a year on the Strip. This dimming of the lights ordered by the Venetian/Palazzo hierarchy comes just two weeks short of what would have been Sinatra’s 100th birthday,
December 12—a perplexing decision (at least to scores of Sinatra devotees) to stop the music without a final party honoring the Chairman of the Board. This is the site of the Sands, after all, where Sinatra and the Rat Pack sang and cavorted in the infancy of the Strip. That hotel was long ago imploded in one of our city’s famous wipeouts of its own history. In similar fashion, Anderson’s fantastic strut down memory lane is being knocked down in favor of some entertainment advancement that requires a major overhaul of the theater that could not be put off for two weeks. No matter. Whatever takes the place of the Sinatra show will likely be forgotten in 100 years. But not Ol’ Blue Eyes, whose indelible recordings and cocksure image defy time, and define the golden era of Vegas entertainment. “He was the greatest singer, and he was the most popular singer, ever,” Tony Bennett says today. “People adored everything he did. He was the guy, there’s no doubt about it.” photograph by Sid Avery/capitol records