In Newport Beach home, Sinatra pal Joey Bishop, 80, is wistful,
witty in looking back.
By NANCY WRIDE, TIMES STAFF WRITER
Los Angeles Times Saturday May 16, 1998 Orange County Edition
The last living Rat Packer was holding court before reporters Friday at his bay-front home
in Newport Beach, delivering his
trademark one-liners amid touching memories about old friend Frank Sinatra.
Always the performer, Joey Bishop sat in his upstairs trophy room, surrounded by
photographs of Dino, Sammy and the rest of
the hip clique of '50s and '60s stars who have come to represent dry martinis and good
times. A TV reporter setting up a shot
asked the aging comic to sit on the couch, then inquired if he was comfortable. Bishop
paused a beat, then cracked, "I make a
good living."
But there was tenderness, too, for an icon who remained loyal and true to his friend of 46
years. Bishop, 80 and trim, still
remembers the first time he heard Frank Sinatra sing.
"I was working in Pittsburgh and it was, 'I'll Never Smile, Again.' Do you know
thatsong?. . . It was beautiful. A big song for
him." It remains his favorite Sinatra tune.
"Am I happy he's dead? No," Bishop said. "Am I happy he's not suffering
anymore? Yes. . . . You know the man is ill if he's not performing anymore."
Bishop, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr., Peter Lawford and Sinatra were the superstar gang
who acted together in films
and performed in Las Vegas at the famed Sands Hotel. All five starred in the 1961 film
"Ocean's Eleven," perhaps the definitive
Rat Pack movie. Onstage, the close-knit band sang and wisecracked with each other in a
cool, boozy patter. Over the years,
actors Jerry Lewis, Shirley MacLaine and others drifted in and out of the pack, too.
Sinatra was unquestionably the hub.
On Friday, Bishop spoke warmly of Sinatra, describing him as a man who was often unfairly
portrayed in the media.
He offered some little-known stories he wouldn't speak of prior to Sinatra's death, saying
that "we were sworn to secrecy"
about Sinatra's good deeds: Frank paid for the funeral of actor Bela Lugosi, bought a
hungry man dinner after the fellow pawed
potatoes off his restaurant plate, covered a $30,000 debt Lee Cobb owed a casino so the
actor could return to Las Vegas, and
wooed a suicidal fan from a hotel balcony with flowers and candy and then gave the girl's
parents tickets to his nightclub show
and a signed glossy.
Bishop learned of his friend's death in a peculiar way. He'd fallen asleep with the
television on Thursday night. He thought he
was dreaming that Sinatra had died and that he went to Sinatra's house and asked his old
friend, "Hey, you all right?" Bishop
then awoke, the TV still on, to learn that his legendary crony was indeed gone.
And it was Sinatra's death late Thursday that drew attention Friday to the waterfront
abode Bishop shares with his wife, Sylvia.
By noon, stereophonic Joey beamed from TV screens in the front room and kitchen, featuring
Bishop waxing sentimental about
Sinatra in interviews taped earlier in the day. The telephone rang incessantly and Bishop
tried to be nice while operating the TV
remote, talking to a reporter and eyeing the press pack huddling on his front deck.
At one point, it appeared to be storybook hour as Bishop sat on his couch surrounded by
writers and photographers. He was
reading this passage from a paperback copy of the 1961 book "Sinatra and His Rat
Pack," page 71:
"Bishop is the only member of Sinatra's gang who can tell The Leader what to do with
himself and not only get away with it, but
actually, incredibly enough, become more firmly entrenched in favor," author Richard
Gehman wrote.
Bishop said the ink the Rat Pack got was always about boozing and womanizing, but it was
the women who chased Sinatra
around. The Rat Packers did everything together, including traveling, hanging out at
nightclubs, making movies, even
campaigning for Lawford's brother-in-law, John F. Kennedy. The drunken swagger of Dean
Martin was also part of the act.
But wasn't the whole Rat Pack mystique drenched in brown liquor? he was asked.
"I have never had a drop of liquor in my life, except for Passover, when I had four
sips of wine," Bishop reported several times
during the day.
As he paced around his living room in a velour sweatsuit and sandals and talked and
talked, huge yachts motored by his picture
window.
He said he had last seen Sinatra about 18 months ago when they dined together in a
restaurant. They talked by phone,
however, whenever Bishop got news that Sinatra was ill. During one call to Sinatra's
sickbed, Bishop said he told the Chairman
of the Board, "Frank, you got millions of fans. Whatever you got, they're gonna want
it."
When it was mentioned a few years ago that Sinatra and Bishop were the last of the living
Rat Packers, Bishop said he
remarked, "Be quiet! Frank's got connections."
Naturally, Bishop said, he will miss Sinatra. But "I felt sorrier for Sammy Davis
Jr., I felt sorrier for Peter Lawford's death,
because they were comparatively young."
He said he felt worst knowing Sinatra was not himself anymore, and that his friend
probably wasn't happy about that.
"I called him about a year ago when I heard he was sick, and I said 'Frank, if you're
just tired, and you're not really sick, I will
never speak to you again.' I tried to only call him when I had something I thought would
cheer him up. . . . The Rat Pack was all
about fun, and illness isn't fun. . . . I think he's in heaven now and they're happy he's
singin' again."
Copyright, The Times Mirror Company; Los Angeles Times, 1998.