Sinatra - The Dorsey Years

Hello again. As some of you might know, I am a saxophonist. Recently I had the privilege of playing in a big band backing a gentleman that sang all of Frank Sinatra songs. What fun it was. So that got me thinking that I haven't played much of Frank's recordings with Tommy Dorsey. The show for this weekend is the remedy for that. These are some of the great recordings that the Dorsey band made during the years of 1939 to 1942 with vocals by Frank Sinatra.  Here is an except by Phillip D. Attenberry:


In 1940, Tommy Dorsey lured Sinatra away from James and launched him on the road to stardom. The Dorsey years (1940-42) are often hailed as seminal in Sinatra's development, but Yank Lawson, who watched young Frank from the trumpet section, disagreed. "I don't think Sinatra learned much with Dorsey," Yank told me in 1992. "His talent was already developed when he got there. He became so famous during those years because Dorsey had a good publicity machine, knew how to package him and had the money to do it right."
Sinatra himself disagreed. In a famous interview with Arlene Francis in 1977, Sinatra credits Dorsey with teaching him how and when to breathe for maximum effect. Adele Girard Marsala, who worked occasional dates with Dorsey and Sinatra, told me much the same thing in a 1993 interview. "Frank's phrasing was definitely influenced by Tommy Dorsey," she told me. "I never had any love for Tommy Dorsey, but it's a good thing Frank joined him when he did. Dorsey was the smoothest player in the business, and after falling under his influence, Sinatra became the smoothest singer."

Whether it was packaging or artistic blossoming (probably some of both), Tommy Dorsey made a star of Frank Sinatra. But musically speaking, the importance of these years had more to do with what was going on back stage. Dorsey, who had the best musical organization in the country in 1941, boasted three of the best arrangers: Sy Oliver, Paul Weston and Axel Stordahl. Oliver was the top swing arranger and Weston the top ballad man, with Stordahl a close second. From them, Sinatra discovered the importance of good arrangements. When Weston left to pursue his own career, Stordahl began working with Sinatra. That turned out to be one of the two or three most important developments in his entire career.

Sinatra's recording of "Polka Dots and Moonbeams," which was probably arranged by Weston, represents his best work of the period. As usual, the melody is established by the smooth legato of Dorsey's trombone (supplemented by a few bars of Babe Russin's tenor sax) before young Frank, sounding more like a tenor than a baritone, delivers Johnny Burke's poetic lyric about a "frightened" wallflower discovering a "pug-nosed dream." Sinatra was a master of vibrato during these years, making it, at times, sound like a controlled tremor, as in the phrases, "May I have the next one?" and "Was I the perplexed one?" The timidity of the speaker is registered beautifully in Sinatra's voice inflections. It's no wonder the bobby-soxers wanted to caress him in the back of a Studebaker.

Looking back, it is amazing how brief Sinatra's stint with Dorsey actually was, from January 1940 to September 1942. As would so often be the case with Sinatra, what started so promisingly ended unpleasantly. In fact, Sinatra's career is characterized by a series of failed relationships, with women, with record companies, and with musicians. And yet even though his break with Dorsey was messy, it was neither man's fault. Clearly, Sinatra's popularity mandated that he strike out on his own. Equally clearly, the tough-minded Dorsey was determined to squeeze as much profit from Sinatra as he could. A fight ensued over Sinatra's contract, which bound him to Dorsey well into 1943. Because Sinatra left early, Dorsey continued to collect part of Frank's salary. Sinatra, who had learned a thing or two about publicity from Dorsey, used the press advantageously. The bobby-soxers rose up in protest and carried picket signs: "Dorsey Unfair to Frankie." The fan magazines loved it. So did the lawyers. It was uncomfortable for a while, but sanity prevailed, as it usually does in such things. Sinatra bought out his contract from Dorsey and paid stiffly for it. Now he was his own man, and--in taking Axel Stordahl with him--he shoved one last burr in Dorsey's saddle.