Sinatra in the Jungle

When Lee Solters died this week, I started remembering all the amazing stories he used to tell. I jumped in the way-back machine and it swept me back to Santo Domingo at the end of the '80s and the sweltering heat of a weeklong party for the opening of the Altos de Chavon Theatre. Lee had taken a contingent of press for the taping of a show for Paramount called "Concert for the Americas." The open air theatre was literally carved out of stone, tropical jungle and time. As I stood on the edge of the balcony, it seemed that if I stepped a few inches into the trees, the jungle would simply close up behind me and that would be the end of the music editor of The Hollywood Reporter and my big journalistic career would be over before it ever started. I was trying to find the coolest thing I had brought with me to the luxury of the Casa de Campo Polo retreat when Lee started pounding on my door with the instructions to "C'mon, Frank is going up to rehearsal." Yep, Frank Sinatra was the headliner, the next night was Carlos Santana and Heart. This afternoon, though, it was time to stand next to Frank and have a conversation. He talked, I sweated and listened to his views on the future and wrote the piece in my head. Night soon came , torches lit up the sky, Sinatra shared favorite songs and songwriters with an adoring crowd. Later my feature ended up as a banner in the Reporter, the headline read "Blue Eyes Sees Blue Skies for Cable Programming," and it was a side of Sinatra the public hadn't seen-a man up to date on technologies, consumer buying habits and history. He signed his letter thanking me for the story, "Love, Francis Albert." It was the first of many trips with him, Spider, Beans, Jilly and the guys. Francis Albert Sinatra was a good man with a song and his publicist Lee Solters was a good man with a story.