Reunited Rat Pack--They’ve Got the World on a String

OAKLAND — Frank Sinatra had just finished belting “What Now My Love” to the 14,500 paying customers packing the Oakland Coliseum Arena on Sunday night when a middle-aged fan approached the stage with a bouquet of purple flowers.

“Thank you,” said the 72-year-old legend, kneeling down to offer the woman his yellow pocket kerchief in exchange for the bouquet. She clutched it to her bosom and moaned audibly.

And while the woman was still swooning, two more fans planted two fifths of bourbon at the singer’s feet.

“Jack Daniel’s, I hope,” Sinatra muttered appreciatively before launching into an upbeat rendition of “Mack the Knife.”

And so it went throughout much of the opening concert of the 29-city, 40-concert tour of Sinatra and his two compadres, Sammy Davis Jr. and Dean Martin: Romance and booze. Booze and romance.

The collective libido of the three original Rat Packers has mellowed with age. This “Together Again” tour, which will touch down July 7-10 at the Universal Amphitheatre in Los Angeles, is already being touted as their last. But they demonstrated resoundingly for 2 hours and 10 minutes Sunday night that their defiant lust for life has not totally faded with the years.

Three months after having a hip replaced, Davis was dancing to “The Girl From Ipanema” and offering up a Michael Jackson impression during his “Mister Bojangles” solo.

Less than a year after intestinal surgery, Sinatra brought the crowd to its feet repeatedly with such standards as “The Gal That Got Away,” “I’ve Got the World on a String” and “Maybe This Time.”

When he introduced “New York, New York” as “the national anthem,” graying women and their balding spouses were flailing their arms as though it were 1940 all over again, shouting “Frankie! Frankie!”

Of the trio, only Martin showed any detectable loss of vitality. During his opening half-hour solo turn, a surly segment of the crowd near the top of the stands shouted, “We can’t hear you!” as Martin limped through “Everybody Loves Somebody.” His venerable “happy drunk” persona fell flat with the audience when he actually did seem to forget the words to “Where or When” and “Welcome to My World.”

“Every time you drink it rains bourbon from heaven,” he warbled to the strains of “Pennies From Heaven.” Then, tossing a lit cigarette butt into the crowd that had paid $40 apiece to see the show, he fell back into a makeshift refrain from “Everybody Loves Somebody”:

“If I had you in my shower. . . .”

The stiff, 70-year-old crooner did take the opportunity to win back the audience with “That’s Amore.”

For his half-hour solo turn, Davis departed from the de rigeur tuxedo and bow tie worn by everyone from the ushers to the 35-piece Billy May Orchestra. The singer-dancer appeared in a black silk shirt with a white hibiscus print and later draped himself with chains and jewelry sitting atop the upright Baldwin at stage left.

“I had this shirt made from one of Tom Selleck’s sleeves,” quipped the 62-year-old Davis.

Like Martin, Davis sipped repeatedly from a plastic cocktail glass that he carried on stage with him, but carefully pointed out after a gutsy rendering of “I’m Not Going” that the glass contained nothing more potent than strawberry soda pop.

“I’ve had three years of sobriety,” he boasted to the cheering crowd.

Sinatra is heavier and slower than he was 50 years ago when he debuted in Oakland with the Harry James Orchestra, but he left no doubt that he is still very much a ladies’ man. With 10 violins carrying him through the chorus, the head of the clan pleaded the loving lyrics to “This Is All I Ask”:

“Beautiful girls walk a little slower when you walk by me, sunsets stay a little longer. . . .”

Martin and Davis joined Sinatra on stage for the final 20 minutes, offering their buddy a woolen shawl for his shoulders and a “golden age” cocktail to drink.

“It’s made out of Geritol and prune juice,” said Martin. “It gets you going and keeps you going.”

The medley of hits the three stumbled through gave the arena the air of a true Vegas lounge act.

Martin continuously checked his watch to see how much longer they had to remain on stage while Davis boogied around singing “Hava Nagila.” Sinatra, showing the immense patience of an older brother, pulled the final moments together by coaxing his pals into a lusty tribute to “the oldest established permanent floating crap game in New York.”