Bob Anderson has been paying tribute to the interpreters of the great American songbooks for years, but for this first time his Sinatra comes front and center as Anderson’s FRANK: The Man, The Music comes to The Palazzo—with Sinatra’s former music director Vince Falcone at the helm—for an extended engagement beginning Jan. 24. Anderson debuted a version of the show at The Venetian in May, and wowed the audience with his total-commitment performance that involved a two-hour makeup job and complete immersion into Sinatra’s post-September years. He chatted with Las Vegas Magazine’s Matt Kelemen recently.

Is FRANK: The Man, The Music an evolutionary next step after Tribute to Frank Sinatra and Friends, or a radically different direction?

Well, it may be something to do with that. I did take it in a radically different direction. The singers that I do are really only the great pop-jazz artists. I was never an impressionist, (where) every time someone had a hit record it was in my act next week. I never really did anybody that I didn’t want to do because he was the star of the day. In other words what I did in my career as an impressionist, and the only reason that I became an impressionist is because … (at) the time when I was looking to get a record deal, everybody was losing their recording contracts. You know, back in the ’80s was a tough time in the recording business. People started producing their own things and all they were getting was distribution deals. Country music was really big at the time, really coming in strong. So I fell into doing impressions.

How did you start out doing impressions?

It was Merv Griffin who wrote my act for me. It happened at a party at his house one night, I was never even doing impressions, and it was his birthday party, his 50th birthday party, and everybody in Hollywood was there. He started playing the piano, and he asked me to get up and sing a couple of songs, and I just started doing the songs like the singers that made them famous. Nobody was doing singers at the time. Nobody was doing singing impressions. All impressionists were doing political figures and big movie-star actors, but nobody was doing the great singers. So Merv said, “I’ve found your act.”

So I started doing these impressions. He brought me back on TV, and he said, “All those great stars are wrapped up in his act. He’s a new thing called ‘The Singing Impressionist’,” and here he is. So what I did was … I wanted to do people like Bobby Darin, Nat King Cole, Tony Bennett, Andy Williams, Johnny Mathis, Louis Armstrong, Bing Crosby, Sammy Davis, Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra. Then I did people like Tom Jones, because he was a great friend of mine.

I always had Sinatra in my act, but I never gave him any more time than Tony Bennett or any other person I was doing. But then I decided after a while that those guys … you know, the business was changing so much, the entertainment business changed so much, that the now generation within the industry have taken it in such a different direction that, almost, what I was doing there was irrelevant—the people I was doing, they were gone. They were dying off, so I realized that Sinatra’s millennium was coming and I started thinking, “Who’s still relevant in this world of entertainment today that are no longer with us but is still someone I can do,” and that was Frank Sinatra. I got to thinking about it and thinking about it, and I said “Jeez, he’s the most famous entertainer on that ever walked on the Earth. There’s gotta be something.”

That’s how I fell into doing Frank Sinatra. I went to LA and I said, “I’m going to go all the way. I’m going to talk to somebody about possibly making up to look like Sinatra,” and I just put it all together, and I’ve been working on it for a few years. I found this guy in Hollywood, Kazu (Tsuji), to do my makeup. And Vince Falcone, who was Sinatra’s musical director for quite a number of years—Frank Sinatra, as a matter of fact, gave Falcone a lot of his music with just a request that he keep it going—was always my music director as well, when he was Tony Bennett’s and Frank Sinatra’s. I met Vince back in Las Vegas in the ’80s when he was working with those guys, and when he was off, he would always work with me. So that’s how that all came about.

Then I said, “Ok, I’m going to do Frank Sinatra. Vince, why don’t you do this with me?” So he did. I wrote the show and I wrote the script and the whole thing, and just put it all together. What I wanted to do in this thing, too, is I wanted to keep it was away from any association at all with a Rat Pack show, because there are so many Rat Pack shows out there, and it’s been done. But this is not that. This is a theatrical production with theatricality to it. This is a sincere presentation to this great artist who was in a league of his own. I have known all of the people that I mentioned to you before. They were all friends of mine. They all gave me their videos to watch, to study. Sammy Davis Jr. would be working at someplace—Bally’s or the MGM, Caesars or somewhere. He used to call me up and tell me to come down and watch his show. He said, “Man, you’re doing this. I do this now. Do this, do this, do this.” That’s how close I was to all of these guys.

I got to know the Sinatras well because Nancy Sinatra started me off in Las Vegas. That’s a whole other story.

We’ll get to her, because I am going to ask you about her in the interview.

I needed a spin-off. It wasn’t a spin-off on Sinatra. But I said “Everybody gone except for Tony Bennett and Johnny Mathis, so I’m gonna do Frank Sinatra and do a show about him. See, this show … my intentions for this show was for it to be the “must see” show on the Vegas Strip yet have the capabilities of going to the West End in London and on to Broadway as one-man show in this salute to the greatest saloon singer that ever lived. And that’s what we’re going to try to do. Janis, it’s on Broadway. One woman does it, one-lady show. And it’s really a big hit, Janis. It’s a hard ticket to get on Broadway (A Night with Janis Joplin ran from September 2013 to February 2014 at the Lyceum Theatre). I think Sinatra, somebody’s gotta do it. Somebody’s gotta do it, and if we do it well enough … well, we’ve already got interest (from Broadway), and from the West End. I’ve already been contacted, with those two entities. So that’s what we’re doing. No Rat Pack, no mention of Marilyn Monroe. I don’t even mention Sammy or Dean in the show. Matter of fact I don’t ever mention Frank Sinatra in the show. I don’t ever say his name. You just assume the character, and we go straight ahead.

Are you allowed to say Sinatra’s name?

Oh, no, I’m allowed to say his name. I think it’s a little bit more intriguing (without it).

I agree. It added a certain enigmatic feel to the May show at The Venetian. I don’t think you mentioned his name at that show either.

No, I didn’t. And that’s a great point, what you just said. That is what it did. I felt that, too, if I were in the persona or character of Sinatra, I would not be mentioning Sinatra. I’m just going out there and assuming his personality, his character, his voice, all his mannerisms and stuff. I walk onstage, and for the next hour and a half I become Frank Sinatra. And I have to tell you, it was the biggest undertaking of my life, doing this. I had no idea how difficult it would be to put all of this together. It took me an awful long time to do it.

You see, the thing about Frank Sinatra too is that, all of those singers I mentioned to you before … I used to go, when I started in Las Vegas, before I even started there, I used to go to hotel to hotel and watch them all the time and I became friends with them all. But the one thing that was unanimous among all of the singers that I would talk to, was that every single one of them referred to him as the “best of all time” and “The Chairman of the Board.” Every one of them did, even Tony Bennett. I was just with Tony Bennett last weekend. He was appearing, and I spent a few days with him, in Nashville. He was absolutely marvelous, too, and we were talking and he was telling me how he believes that Sinatra would be so happy with this, because I’m not doing a Rat Pack thing and because it’s such a sincere tribute of respect to this great artist. Tony can’t wait to see the show. … “You have to bring this to Broadway,” he says, “And I would love to help you do it.”

The Sinatra persona that you’re bringing to the stage is the Sinatra that was in the phase of his career when you came to Vegas, right?

Yeah, he was about 60 years old, 58 years old. It’s easy to say that’s when he was in his prime and the best he ever was, but he was always like that until he got to be 75 and he started to lose the quality that he had. But when he was 60 years old—he was 62 at Caesars Palace—he was never better. And then you go way back to 1961 when he was working with Count Basie at the Sands Hotel. He was tremendous then. He was tremendous his whole career. So I’m doing him at 60 years old, right in there. 58.

I think it’s safe to say he had entered into legendary status by that time. He was a giant before, but I think there’s a confidence he had in that era that you bring out, where he just knows—the “I did it my way” attitude. But the impetus for the production was motivated by the approach of Sinatra’s 100th birthday, right?

I figured that this would be a good time to do it, so yes. I spoke to a lot of people and did a lot of research on this, and a number of the record companies—Reprise certainly, but Capitol, Warner Bros., Columbia—all these companies are doing big deals to promote Frank Sinatra’s music this year. I thought that it would help me at this time. When that happens I want to have the quintessential Sinatra production up and running in the world.

Jack Daniel’s, you may have seen those ads. The Jack Daniel’s company just paid the Sinatra estate $50 million dollars to put his name on their liquor. It’s called Sinatra Select. Just to give you an example of how big he is, if you go out to a liquor story today, and you go in and buy a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, it’s about $32 to $35. If you go in and buy a bottle of Sinatra Select it’s $200, $225 a bottle. Right now, they can’t manufacture it fast enough. They thought they had enough but they didn’t. And it’s a whole story about the vats, how they changed everything to get that taste and the whole bit. That’s the kind of legend he is.

When did you first see Sinatra perform?

I first saw him perform when I started back with Nancy Sinatra, when she took me … well, no. It was really earlier than that. My mom and dad took me when I was a teenager back in Detroit. He was working a club called the Rooster Tail. Sammy, Dean and Frank were there. That was about 1972. But then when I started working with Nancy I went to see him a couple of different times. That’s when I met him again, and … about ’76 was when I saw him perform again. He was at Caesars Palace.

When you’re honing an impression or developing a persona, does that help it take a great leap forward when you finally get to see them?

Yeah, sure it does, but what happened was Steve Wynn owned the Golden Nugget in Atlantic City. The Golden Nugget was the place where Sinatra was working in Atlantic City. A guy named Frankie Randall, who was a recording artist, used to work at a club called Jilly’s (Saloon). Jilly (Rizzo) was Frank Sinatra’s bodyguard, but he owned a club that was the spot in Manhattan. Sinatra used to come there all the time in the ’50s and ’60s. Frankie Randall played piano in there, and Sinatra sang with him all the time. Steve Wynn hired Frankie Randall to be his entertainment director, and he brought Frank Sinatra in to see Steve Wynn and booked him in there in Atlantic City.

Frankie called me and said, “Frank’s coming in with Dean Martin.” Sammy had just died; Sarah Vaughan was with them. He said, “We want you to come in and entertain them, because in the evening he’s going to come into the lounge. I knew how magnificent Steve Wynn’s lounge was. It only sat 60 people, but it was state of the art. Lights, sound, everything. It was an intimate jazz lounge. So he brought me in, and Wednesday night Sinatra didn’t come in. Thursday he didn’t come in. Friday he didn’t come in. Saturday night after his second show he came in. And I was sitting at the bar and I was bummed out because I didn’t think he was going to show up. I didn’t even notice, in the front, that there were 11 empty seats in this small room, right up against the stage. … I looked, and here comes this little ant pile through the casino, and sure enough it’s Frank Sinatra. He comes in and he was with Dean Martin, Sarah Vaughn, Diana Ross, Johnny Mathis, and Steve Wynn and his wife Elaine, and Barbara Sinatra and his attorney. … They all came in and sat there, and that was the first time I had ever done Frank Sinatra for him, in front of him.

First I started off doing Tony Bennett, then I turned around and became Sammy Davis Jr. Dean started talking to me, you know, I’m doing Sammy and he says, “Sammy, why don’t you do this song here.” And I’m having a conversation with him like I’m Sammy Davis. Then I turn around and did Dean Martin, then Sinatra started laughing and saying things to me. They didn’t think I’d have the (guts) to go add a new Sinatra, but I turned around and did Sinatra. And he was so nice. He loved it; they loved it. That was the first time I ever performed for him in person. We went to breakfast that evening, and everything turned out cool. We did a tribute for Henry Kissinger at the Waldorf together in the past. I’ve had my time with him. We weren’t friends. I knew him, he knew me, but we weren’t anything like that.

So you weren’t really doing a Sinatra impression when you met Nancy, I think in 1973?

No. I wasn’t doing any impressions.

But she played a key role in your career.

Absolutely. A major one.

Do you still look back on that, the way you just … basically burst into her rehearsal and said, “I’m here!”

(Laughs)

What’s even funnier is that while (working with) Nancy Sinatra was a major milestone in your career, if it wasn’t for the Everly Brothers you might have never started on this path.

Yeah, you’re right. That’s exactly it. I wasn’t ready for that at all. There was a journalist here named Mark Tan. He wrote for the Hollywood Reporter and the Vegas Visitor. Mark was the one that really made Joan Rivers a star in Las Vegas, writing about her so much. She was great friends with Mark Tan; well, so was Nancy Sinatra. And that’s how it happened. I was sitting at the bar (at the Sahara), and I had just come to Las Vegas in my car, in my old Volkswagen. I was shabbily undressed—I mean dressed—in my cut-offs and sandals and long hair, peace sign for a belt buckle, all this stuff. I was a Vietnam veteran and all these things.

You were a Vietnam veteran?

Yes, I was in the 4th Infantry Division. So I was sitting at the bar not doing anything, unshaven, grubby looking. And Mark came up and sat at the bar, and we were having a drink of something, got talking to him, and he got up and he said, “I’m going in to see a rehearsal. Would you like to join me?” And I said, “Yeah, that would be cool.” And he said, “Yeah, it’s Nancy Sinatra. She’s here with the Everly Brothers.” I said, “Whoah! Man, that would be great.”

So it’s 3 o’ clock in the afternoon and we go in there. All the lights are dark, you’re in the middle of rehearsal. We go and sit in a booth, next thing I know the Everly Brothers got in a big argument and a fight. Not with her, with each other. Then Nancy said something to them, whatever. Anyway, they left the show. They got in their car and split after rehearsing for about five days, and she was going to go onstage. Or she was going to go on that night. Her show was going to open in about four hours and she was stuck without an opening act, without one of the guys to do duets with her. They were in a panic. They called Mac Davis, they called Glen Campbell. They called Vic Damone, Jack Jones. Nobody could come over to help her out that quickly. So this guy was there, and I was talking to him, and I turned to Mark and I said, “Hey Mark, I can do whatever she needs, man. … I can sing. I’m a singer. I can get up there and help her out and do whatever she needs.”

He said, “Well, go up there and tell her.” I said, “What? Why don’t you go tell her?” He said, “No, you just go up there and tell her you can do this.” I said, “Alright, I will. So I got out of the booth and I walked up to the stage, and she had this gigantic orchestra up there, 37 pieces. … I said, “I’m a singer; I can do whatever you need.” And they all broke out laughing, except for a guy named Billy Strange, who was her conductor. He was also a producer of her father’s music, and he was Elvis Presley’s producer. And Billy said, “Give the kid a mic. This might be funny.” … So they kicked off a song called “Something Stupid,” that song she did with her father. I did it. I opened that evening in the main showroom at the Sahara Hotel with her.

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