Robert Randisi: Hey There (You with the Gun in Your Hand)

“It’s Sammy I have to be concerned with-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Jack said, “but it’s Frank who flew you up there.”

When it came to the Rat Pack Jack would go out of his way for Dino or Sammy, but he’d walk on broken glass for Frank.

“Just keep me informed so I know if I have to replace you for any length of time.”

“You got it, Jack.”

“And, uh, tell Frank hello for me.”

“I will.”

I hung up and took the second drink to the window and looked out. It was quiet, nothing and no one moving. I thought back to last year, when I’d agreed to do two favors-one for Frank and one for Dean. On the surface neither had sounded dangerous, but both had heated up quickly. I’d been threatened, beaten, blown up, shot at-and after all of that, I was prepared to do it again. Why? Well, this didn’t seem to have the same potential, but what did I know? I’d never dealt with blackmailers before.

No, I think it came down to how I felt about Frank and Dino. In the beginning I had liked the idea of being their friend. Okay, so I was a little starstruck. And between the filming of Ocean’s 11 and the release of it I came to think that they had used me. But since then, they had both kept in touch. I may have been deluding myself that these Hollywood big shots thought of me as a friend, but I thought of them as my friends, and I guess that was what counted.

I saw Henry walking up to my door. I set the glass down and went to the door to meet him.

Watching Sammy Davis Jr. was an experience. That was the only way to describe it-and that wasn’t me talking, that was Frank. He actually leaned over to me during the show and said those words to me.

Sammy sang, danced, played instruments, did impressions. Frank described himself as a “saloon singer.” Sammy, he said, was an “entertainer.”

At the halfway point Sammy took the time to talk to the audience, introduce the band, and then he pointed into the crowd.

“There’s a very good friend of mine in the audience tonight. He is my friend, an amazing talent in his own right, the chairman of the board, the leader, Mr. Frank Sinatra, ladies and gentlemen.”

Frank stood to thunderous applause, waved at Sammy and then sat back down.

“Do you like your seat, Frank?” Sammy asked. “Can you see okay?”

“I can see fine,” Frank called out.

Sammy wiped his brow with his hand, as if Frank’s reply gave him great relief.

“Gotta make sure Frank is comfortable, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, milking the joke. “You never know who might come around later with Frank’s complaint.”

The audience laughed and Frank waved again and called out, “You’re safe, Sam.”

“Then let’s get on with the show,” Sammy said. “Here’s a tune my friend Dino let me borrow….”

“Hey, Eddie, man,” Sammy said, shaking my hand as Frank and I entered his dressing room. “Sorry I didn’t introduce you from the stage-”

“That’s okay, Sam,” I said. “What would you have told people about me?”

“Smokey,” Frank said, giving Sammy a big hug, “you brought the house down, as usual. I’m tired just from watchin’ you.”

“Thanks for coming, Frank,” Sammy said, returning the embrace.

“How’s May?” Frank asked.

“She’s good, Frank, good.”

“You got enough energy left to go out and get somethin’ to eat with us?” Frank asked.

“If we do it here in the hotel I do,” Sammy said. “I’m not up for a big night out, Frank.”

“Neither am I,” I said.

“Yeah, okay,” Frank said. “I’ll take it easy on you two Clydes. How’s the food here, Sam?”

“It’s good, Frank.”

“Good?”

Sammy smiled.

“It’s okay. They’ll feed us well. Hell, I remember the days when my dad, my uncle and me had to take our food out back and eat it at a picnic table behind the building.”

“They treatin’ you okay?” Frank asked.

“They’re treating me fine, Frank,” Sammy assured him, “just fine. Why don’t you two get out of here and let me get dressed, and then we’ll go and eat.”

“Okay, Charley,” Frank said, slapping Sammy on the shoulder. “Great show, as usual. Naw, even better than usual.”

“Thanks, Frank,” Sammy said. “That means a lot coming from you.”

“Let’s go, Eddie,” Frank said. “We’ll wait outside while Sam makes himself pretty.”

I wanted to say, “That’ll be a long wait,” or something as funny, but I really didn’t know how Sammy would take it. I wasn’t that “in” yet, was I?

Having dinner with Frank and Sammy was a little like dining with Joey Bishop and Buddy Hackett. The two of them were very funny together, telling stories that had me in stitches. Other diners in the Harrah’s Steak House stared over at us, putting their heads together and pointing. No one, however, walked over and interrupted us. There were stories about Frank and how he reacted to being interrupted in restaurants by autograph seekers. Apparently, the people in this restaurant had heard them.

Eventually the subject came around to the next Rat Pack movie, Sergeants 3 . Frank, Dino and Peter were playing the soldiers, while Sammy had the Gunga Din part in this western spin-off of Kipling. Joey was apparently going to play a soldier who made life hard for the top three.

“Hey,” Sammy said, at one point, “you think there’s a part in the movie for Eddie, Frank?”

“Whataya think, pally?” Frank asked me. “Wanna be in a movie?”

I sat back, stunned.

“Just like that?” I asked. “I don’t have any experience. Don’t you have to check with somebody?”

“I don’t have to check with anybody,” Frank said. “Look, let me take a look at the script. I’ll find something small for you. Whataya think of that?”

“Come on, Eddie,” Sammy said. “It’ll be a gas.”

“I don’t know what to say.” It did sound like it could be fun, shooting a scene or two with these guys, but what if I got in way over my head?

“Come on, Eddie,” Frank said. “It’s got to be easier than some of the stuff you went through last year, and look how that turned out.”

“I almost got killed.”

“But you didn’t,” Frank said. “You came out on top, because that’s what you do.”

“Frank,” Sammy said, “you’re not forcing Eddie-”

I broke in before Frank could.

“He’s not forcing me into anything, Sam,” I said. “When I try to help you it’s because I want to. Okay?”

“Okay,” Sammy said.

“Sure it’s okay,” Frank said, putting one hand on my shoulder and the other on Sammy’s. “We’re all friends here, and friends help each other, right?”

Sammy and I agreed.

On our way out of the restaurant a husband and wife approached Sammy and Frank for an autograph. I had seen many demonstrations of the famed “Sinatra charm.” In fact, I’d been subjected to it many times, but I had only had a glimpse-maybe even a glimmer-of the “Sinatra temper.” As the couple approached us I was wondering if I was going to witness it, but instead both Frank and Sammy were charming and gracious and signed the autographs.

In the hotel lobby Frank gave Sammy another bone-crushing hug. I shook hands with Sammy and told him to call me as soon as he knew something.

“If I leave the Cal Neva, or Tahoe, I’ll let you know where to find me.”

“That’s cool, Eddie,” Sammy said. “Thanks.”

Frank and I walked back outside to his car and Henry started back to the Cal Neva.

“Look at this place,” Frank said. “First Harvey Gross opened his Wagon Wheel, then Bill Harrah came in and opened his place. For a few years there was a few casinos and ski lodges. Then last year the Winter Olympics came here, and now look at it. There’s been an explosion here, Eddie. Now if your business is skiing or gambling you can come here and get a license to print your own money. It’s a gold mine, and it’s only gonna keep gettin’ bigger.”