Authors: Mickey Podell-Raber
The Copa (7 page)
Jerry Lewis would later tell
Look
magazine about that last night at the Copacabana: “When we finished the last show together, I went back to my dressing room. I was numb with fright and shaking all over,
my clothes were drenched with perspiration. I sat in my dressing room, crying. I thought I'd never be able to get up before an audience again. I thought it would be impossible for me to work without Dean. After I finished crying in my dressing room, I phoned Patti in California. I said to her, âIt's all over.' She said, âDon't be afraid. I'm your friend'âand I cracked up completely. Then Dean came in and we both cried. We shook hands and wished each other luck.”
My father and a friend look on as Jerry Lewis plays with a book of matches.
My father with Jerry Lewis. Lewis would never play the Copacabana as a solo act after he and Dean Martin broke up their partnership.
Over the years, differing accounts have surfaced about the last night Martin and Lewis worked together at the Copacabana. There is no doubt that Jerry Lewis was sad and somber about the duo's split. Martin, on the other hand, was said to be relieved that this phase of his career had come to an end.
Jules Podell, along with most of the American public, was also unhappy about the comedic duo's breakup. Although he was enjoying the riches of doing record-breaking business during Martin and Lewis's last run, he also knew he would never see their likes again and that meant
he might never see such crowds attempt to shoehorn themselves into the Copa to get a glimpse of the comedy team.
Decades later, after my father had passed away, Jerry would recount a story that supposedly happened soon after the Martin and Lewis breakup. Jerry claimed that my father sent a “tough guy” to his home in Bel Air, California. Podell's messenger suggested to Jerry that he agree to an engagement at the Copa as a solo act or harm might come to him and his family. After the man left, Jerry responded by calling Chicago Mob boss Tony Accardo and explained the situation and Podell's threat. Accardo told Jerry to “forget about it” and not to worry, that he would take care of the situation. According to Jerry, that was the last he ever heard from Jules Podell. Since all the principals except Jerry were deceased when he began telling this story, it is impossible to confirm its validity. P.S., Jerry never played the Copa as a solo act.
Frank Sinatra
The greatest singer of the twentieth century, Frank Sinatra played the most famous nightclub of that century throughout the late 1940s and 1950s. The Copa was the premier nightclub/“saloon” in New York, and there was no other entertainer who was more identified as a saloon singer than Frank Sinatra. In fact, Sinatra embraced the title so much so that his passport stated his occupation as “saloon singer.”
Sinatra enjoyed SRO crowds, and his performances at the Copacabana are legendary. The Copa was also home to some low points during the singer's storied career.
Frank Sinatra onstage at the Copacabana wearing a coonskin cap. Sinatra was without question, the most famous singer/entertainer of the 20th century.
The first time Frank Sinatra played the Copa, it was not even his own engagement. On September 9, 1946, Sinatra flew from Los Angeles to New York for Phil Silvers's opening night at the Copacabana.
Look
magazine detailed the story as follows:
When Silvers was making his first attempt to establish a foothold in the show business big-time, he got a booking to do an act at the Copacabana in New York with the great burlesque comedian Rags Ragland. The two comics went to Hollywood to rehearse. They both knew Sinatra, who offered to help them work out their act. Suddenly, Ragland became ill and died of pneumonia in a Los Angeles hospital; Silvers was devastated. He felt he couldn't do the act aloneâthat he was finished in show business. He continued to rehearse, however, and flew back to New York for his Copacabana booking.
On opening night, Silvers was brooding in his dressing room when the door burst open and in walked Sinatra. He had gone AWOL from the set of the movie he was making in Hollywood, and had flown to New York. “I'm going to do Rags's part with you tonight,” he announced. He did, and it was one of the most exciting and sentimental openings ever seen in New York. From the stimulation he received from that audience, Silvers was able to continue the show alone.
Sinatra would again grace the Copa stage in March 1950; it was to be his first New York nightclub engagement in over four years. At that time, the press was relentless in reporting his every move since he was involved with screen goddess Ava Gardner. No other couple, except, later, perhaps Richard Burton and Liz Taylor, was so dogged by the press. Today, the only comparison might be Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. In April 1950, Sinatra was forced to cancel his final two nights at the Copa as he suffered a vocal cord hemorrhage.
Sinatra recalled that night: “I was doing three shows a night at the Copacabana in New York and five days a week on a Lucky Strike radio program, live every night with Dorothy Kirsten. And I was rehearsing every day for somethingâbenefits, concerts, etcâ¦. I had a real bad cold and was run down physicallyâmy resistance was knocked out. I came on stage at the Copa one morning about two-thirty
A.M.
to do the third show. I opened my mouth, and nothing came outâabsolutely nothingâjust dust. I was never so panic-stricken in my whole life. I remember looking at the audience, a blizzard outside, about seventy people in the place, and they knew something serious had happened. There was absolute silence; stunning, absolute silence. I looked at them, and they looked at me, and I looked at Skitch Henderson, who was playing the piano. His face was ghastly white. Finally, I turned to the audience and whispered into the microphone, âGood night,' and walked off the floor. It turned out I had a vocal hemorrhage; bleeding in my throat.”
In 2004, Skitch Henderson recalled working with Sinatra at the Copacabana in 1950. “Late nights at the Copa I'll remember forever,” he said. “He did all the standards, Cole Porter, Rodgers, Gershwin, I've never heard anybody sing lyrics like that. It was never boring. It was fresh every night.”
On September 21, 1950, Sinatra recorded the song “Meet Me at the Copa,” written by Alex Stordahl, Sinatra's longtime arranger and musical director, and songwriter Sammy Cahn. The song, according to Cahn, was written for Sinatra to sing specifically at the Copacabana during his engagement, as a favor for longtime friend Jack Entratter, the general manager of the club. The lyrics to the song included the line “the most amazing club in town you will admitâ¦it's the spot where
stars come just to see the stars.” However, unless you attended the Copa during Sinatra's run back then, chances are you would have never heard the song. Columbia Records, Sinatra's label at the time, did not release the recording until several decades later.
Dean Martin, Jerry Lewis, and Frank Sinatra strike a pose at the Copa in 1948. This photo was taken during Martin and Lewis's first engagement at the club.
Sinatra returned to the Copa in December 1954 for another sold-out engagement, which ran into early 1955. Not only was his singing making headlines, so were his dating habits. Columnist Earl Wilson wrote about Sinatra's relationship with socialite Gloria Vanderbilt: “They had a date that night, December 22, 1954, when he opened at the Copacabana. He sat at her table before his turn and when he sang, she removed her glasses to watch.” Another columnist, Dorothy Kilgallen, reported that Sinatra had also invited actress Anita Ekberg to New York for his opening at the Copa: “As the fatal hour approached Frankie drove Julie Podell (owner of the place) close to madness, making sure that Anita had a table ringside, where he could see her and sing his most melting ballads straight at her. This was arranged, but amid considerable backstage turmoil, because nerves are taut on an opening night and this was a big one. Right on cue, just before the show started, the magnificent Anita entered. The predictable number of heads turned and the natural buzz was heard.” Joey Bishop, who would later become a member of the famed Rat Pack, was the comedian on the bill with Sinatra during this engagement.
At the same time, Sinatra's earlier employer, Tommy Dorsey, was also in New York. Dorsey was celebrating his twentieth anniversary along with Martin Block, a New York disc jockey. On February 3, 1955, Sinatra stopped by to see Dorsey and was coaxed into singing a few songs with the band. The reunion was broadcast on the radio, with Sinatra mentioning that he couldn't stay too long since “I gotta go to
work in a few minutesâ¦I'm glad I was in the East to attend.” After Sinatra did three songsâ“I'll Never Smile Again,” “Oh, Look at Me Now,” and “This Love of Mine”âthe crowd cheered for more. Sinatra took his leave, explaining, “I gotta run away, I wish I had more time to stay around and sing some songs, but Jules Podell will send out his bulldogs after me or he'll send himself.”
Of that evening Sinatra's longtime pianist, Bill Miller, recalled the following, “Before we did the first show at the Copaâ¦Frank said to me, âI should really do something with Tommy again.' I said that sounds great since I had also worked with Tommy years before for a short time. At this stage of his career, Sinatra had eclipsed Dorsey in terms of popularity, as the big band era was drawing to a close. True to his word, Sinatra arranged for the Dorsey brothers, Tommy and Jimmy, to open his stage show at the Paramount Theatre the following year during the premier run of his current film
Johnny Concho
.”
In December 1956 Sinatra opened another engagement at the Copa and
Look
magazine stated:
In night clubs, Sinatra is now the undisputed King. In no other field is his popularity more apparent. At the Copacabana, a four-abreast line of customers stood in below-freezing cold outside the club each night just to reach the front door with their confirmed reservations. The line extended a hundred yards around the corner. Nearly every evening, there were fist fights among the more impetuous patrons, and in the line, waiting like the rest, were such celebrities as Joe DiMaggio, Gov. William G. Stratton of Illinois and a sable-clad Doris Duke. Inside the club, while Sinatra performed, customers stood on chairs, tables and suitcases. The crowds at the Copacabana were mostly mature people; the hardened, experienced night-club goers who demand “class” in
their entertainment. There was, however, a good sprinkling of young matrons in their late twenties and early thirties who occasionally emitted once-familiar cries of “Oh, Frankie!” when their hero essayed an old-time glissando.
