December 2015 – Coloring Outside the Lines

December 12th marks the 100th birthday of the colorful singer, actor, and pop-culture icon known as “ol’ Blue Eyes.” Mr. Sinatra went to the great lounge in the sky back in 1998, and as sad as I was when the entertainment world had to say goodbye to him, I figured that 82 was a pretty good run for a guy who was always holding a glass of straight Jack Daniels and an unfiltered Camel.

Okay, I admit that I am two days late, but I did not want this important historical milestone to pass completely without taking some time to look back on the rich legacy that this show business giant left us and why he has always held such a spell on me.

Let me clarify, first of all, that the mercurial Sinatra was no saint. In fact, he was as far from sainthood as you could get. He held notoriously long grudges with white-hot intensity, and he was prone to bullying when he didn’t get his way. While the full extent of his mafia ties remains a subject of speculation and debate, no one denies that the kid from the rough streets of Hoboken, New Jersey always carried a good bit of that edge with him into adulthood.

So just how did a Gen X boy like me growing up in rural Western Kentucky become obsessed with the leader of the Rat Pack? Well, I can trace the formative years back to two ingredients, my mother’s old records and seventies television variety shows.

My mom was more into Nat King Cole and Johnny Mathis, but she did own a Sinatra record or two in her collection. I have always possessed highly eclectic musical tastes, so much so that I am fond of saying that if I am ever in a serious accident or medical emergency of some sort, and the person who rescues me or tries to rescue me takes the iPod out of my pocket, that person is going to look at the dizzying range of artists on my playlists and think that I am (or was) batshit crazy.

So, I loved sampling old vinyl, and the golden Rat Pack age that I had missed by a few years somehow mesmerized me. I hate to embody a gay male cliché, but as a child I was obsessed with the large crop of variety shows and specials that ruled the airwaves.

At regular intervals, NBC would air Dean Martin Celebrity Roasts from the MGM Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas. The place looked so glamorous, and I knew that I would end up there as a tourist someday. I adored the banter of aging glitzy celebrities who were fighting hard to remain relevant in the new era of long hair and leisure suits, and there were so many showbiz legends who knew how to act like the larger than life figures they were.

Martin ran the proceedings of course, but Frank was still the coolest kid on the block whose presence caused a scene. My grandmother actually thought that Martin was a better singer than Sinatra, and even though I still don’t quite agree with that sentiment, I can say that Hollywood history does indeed indicate that Martin was a much more likable human being to those around him than was Sinatra.

So, Frank was the guy who grabbed my attention even more than his talented cohorts, In 1981, Republican Ronald Reagan’s inaugural festivities included a star-studded black-tie gala orchestrated by none other than Sinatra. Even though by 1984 I was destined to wear a Mondale/Ferraro button to school every day and become a loyal Democrat, I enjoyed seeing this touch of Hollywood style; ironically enough, Sinatra had played the same role for Democrat John F. Kennedy’s inauguration in 1961,

By the time I was in my early 20’s, I owned a two-cassette collection of Sinatra’s greatest hits, and as the digital era began, I replaced it with a CD. At home alone, sometimes consuming an adult beverage or two, Luck Be a Lady and New York, New York were my pick-me up energy tunes. My Way, That’s Life, and It Was a Very Good Year captured the wistful angst I was feeling. Strangers in the Night and Fly Me to the Moon were anthems of longing for new possibilities.

I also managed to discover Sinatra’s films. The silver screen presented an interesting dichotomy where he was concerned. He had long dry stretches where his offerings were marginal at best. Yet, when he was on he was really on.

From Here to Eternity, for which Sinatra won the Best Supporting Actor Oscar, is one of my all-time favorite films. Granted, the role of the hot-tempered, hard-drinking Private Maggio did not require much of a stretch for Sinatra, but the pain and heartache still shine through in a manner that gives me goosebumps.

Interesting aside, many Tinseltown historians have asserted that Sinatra served as the basis for the fictional singer and actor Johnny Fontane in The Godfather. The memorable scene in which a Hollywood producer who initially had refused to cast Fontane in his upcoming film wakes up to find the bloody head of his beloved horse in bed with him was rumored to have been part of the real-life drama behind how Sinatra got the part of a lifetime in Eternity.

I would also like to make a plug for Sinatra’s compelling turn as a heroin addict in The Man with the Golden Arm. Sinatra wasn’t afraid to champion controversial projects that were quite cutting edge for their day. Another such film that I adore is the The Manchurian Candidate, the consummate political thriller. I love Denzel Washington and Meryl Streep, but their remake lacked the incisive power of the brilliant original.

Speaking of politics, Sinatra’s partisan shifts have left many scratching their heads. He was a New Deal liberal who found himself teetering on the edge of blacklisting for several decades. He also championed integration of the Vegas Strip on behalf of his dear friend Sammy Davis Jr. at a time when Sin City’s racial divide was akin to the Deep South, As mentioned earlier, he was JFK’s go-to guy in Hollywood during his campaign and the early part of his presidency.

Yet, Sinatra detested what he saw as the smug hypocrisy in much of the Kennedy clan. When Robert Kennedy asked him to drop Davis Jr. from the list of inaugural headliners because of his interracial marriage, Sinatra complied, but inside he was seething. As attorney general, RFK’s war on organized crime went after many of Sinatra’s buddies. Granted, I think there clearly were two sides to the story, but I can understand the resentment on the part of Sinatra that his influence in the underworld and in Hollywood were put to use to get JFK elected but then soon became a source of shame when the election was over.

Evidently, the last straw was a decision by the White House to snub Sinatra’s invitation for President Kennedy to stay at his home during a Southern California visit. That fracture never healed, and Sinatra made a progression from anti-Kennedy Democrat to full-fledged Republican. Of course, I also think it’s fair to say that the essence of what it meant to be a liberal was shifting dramatically in the era of the Hippie counterculture, so I think some of that evolution would have happened even without the Kennedy feud.

Sinatra also provided interesting contrasts in his multiple marriages and relationships with women. He was prone to chronic infidelity, and his histrionics were legendary. Yet, when push came to shove, he had the capacity for incredible generosity and loyalty. As Judy Garland struggled with her many demons of depression and addiction, she is reported to have received encouraging telegrams from her longtime friend Sinatra urging her not to give up the fight.

So, Sinatra holds many interesting paradoxes and contradictions. A great deal has been said and written about Ol’ Blue Eyes, and folks may disagree about the details. Yet, I think we can safely say that he was never boring, and he made the world a bit more colorful with his presence.

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Back in August of 2014, my other half and I decided to spend a weekend in the mountain city of Asheville, North Carolina. We stayed in a suburban motel and were most focused on the idea of spending a day at the Biltmore Estate, and the buildings and grounds of the George Vanderbilt family’s 8,000 acre spread certainly offered a feast for the senses. Yet, when we decided to also spend some time checking out the rest of what Asheville had to offer, we were blown away, particularly by the city’s vibrant and charming Downtown area. So, a year later we decided to splurge and stay at the trendy Hotel Indigo within walking distance to all of the hipster merriment that makes Asheville one of the hottest tourist destinations in the Southeast.

Asheville certainly holds a number of individual attractions worth visiting, but the most special thing about the city turns out to be the city itself. It’s a quirky spot of deep blue in a sea of red; the freak flags really fly here, and I say that in a spirit of love and admiration. If you appreciate off the beaten path places where the finer things in life are served up with a side dish of eccentricity, Asheville is your kind of town. You owe it to yourself to come and stay there for at least three or four days and devote the bulk of your time to eating, drinking, people watching, and enjoying the views in a place where Mother Nature and the built environment come together in perfect harmony. Rather than offering a rundown of what to see in Asheville, I would like to focus on making the sale of why it’s such a wonderful oasis.

The Mountains
Asheville is located in the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains, and the historic Blue Ridge Parkway winds along the city’s outskirts. There is just something extra special about having the cultural amenities of an urban area but also the beautiful horizon always within your gaze. One day during our stay we drove a few miles down the gorgeous highway to Craggy Gardens for some hiking and a picnic lunch. The views are stunning, and the location is still close enough to town to not get too off-track from the goings-on there. Mount Mitchell, the highest point east of the Mississippi River is not too far away, though we saved that detour for a future trip. If you are one of those serious adventurers who buy fancy gear at REI and likes to sleep under the stars, there are certainly endless options for you in the Asheville region. Yet, if you are like me and just want little three or four-hour adventures outside before you go back to a comfortable hotel room, there are also plenty of places to get that fix.

The Architecture
Downtown Asheville offers some of the best-preserved concentrations of Victorian and Art Deco structures in the nation. In some respects, this reality began as a happy accident of sorts. The mountain city spent a good bit of the 20th Century plagued with economic busts that lasted longer than their preceding booms. Right about the time most American cities embraced the prosperity of the 1950’s and 1960’s by “renewing” their urban cores to become more like the suburbs, Asheville found itself a bit too cash-strapped to follow that path.

There were some close calls in the 1970’s and 1980’s, but by then the powers that be started to embrace a very different kind of redevelopment tied to the arts, culture, and sustainable living. Granted, plenty of places have gone the route of historic preservation in recent decades, but Asheville somehow ties it together in a way that makes a casual city stroll uniquely approachable and festive.

The People
Speaking of festive, Asheville lives up to its stereotype for being a bit off its rocker, but that’s a good thing. It’s a very safe and welcoming place, so don’t think of it as “I’m going to get mugged” kind of crazy. Rather, think of that odd relative in your extended family who you really love but who marches to the beat of a different drummer, and just think of place with civility and grace where that relative would feel welcome with open arms. Think of that relative having friends as eccentric as they are, and that’s Asheville.

From George Vanderbilt to the current crop of Millennials who make the North Carolina mountains one of the “it” places to be, Asheville maintains a track record of colorful transplants from other places putting their resources into living a life of creativity and beauty. The trustafarian identity, while not completely unique to Asheville, certainly shapes the vibe of the place.

I realize that no place is perfect, but from what I see as an outsider looking in, this diverse group of rebels and dreamers seems to have built a community that actually practices what it preaches. I have received warning that Asheville–like many cities tied to tourism–offers that awkward combination of high housing prices and a shortage of well-paying jobs. Yet, I can attest that it’s at least a fun place to visit and maybe consider relocating to if I ever win the lottery.

The Food
I don’t make a practice of speaking in the vernacular of texting and social media, but OMG! If you appreciate fresh ingredients, craft beer, and the idea of dining out as an event rather than merely a means of filling the stomach, Asheville is like Heaven! Granted, I know that the local and organic food movements have swept many urban areas across the United States in recent years, but Asheville is an epicenter of this welcome development. The actual city of Asheville has roughly 100,000 or so residents, but the range of culinary choices make it seem like a much bigger place.

I can’t even begin to provide a rundown of all of the eateries worth visiting, as I can only touch on the highlights. For carnivores, 12 Bones Smokehouse serving up shoulder after shoulder of the region’s iconic pulled pork barbecue, does indeed live up to the hype, from my experience at least. If meat is not your thing–or like me you embrace the movement of eating at least one vegetarian dinner each week–Laughing Seed Cafe proves that eating with the planet in mind can still feel scrumptious and hearty. Also, If you want to experience the definitive Southern breakfast in a setting that oozes warmth and charm, begin at least one of your days in Asheville at Early Girl Eatery.

Bottom Line
There are plenty of helpful travel guides and similar resources out there. My intent is not to take on that role here; I can simply confirm that Asheville is a very special getaway location. It is a nice break from normalcy and conventionality. Make those vacation plans now!