opinion

Like their parents and grandparents, millennials put Frank Sinatra on a pedestal. Here's why.

As we approach the 20th anniversary of Frank Sinatra’s death on May 14, his popularity hasn't waned as evidenced by his monthly average of 4.6 million Spotify listeners, 5.6 million Facebook followers, multiple Sinatra-related Instagram accounts that hover around 50,000 followers, countless YouTube videos in the millions of views, and his own SiriusXM channel.

Sinatra’s contributions to popular culture continue to reach new and old generations alike, including a memorable 2016 performance by 21-year-old Sal Valentinetti, who reintroduced “My Way” to the country on "America’s Got Talent" to great veneration.

Last November, I hosted a sold-out 60th anniversary screening of Pal Joey at the Gold Coast International Film Festival in Long Island, N.Y., with Frank’s granddaughter, AJ Lambert, as my guest. The audience was as diverse in age as a Tony Bennett & Lady Gaga concert, but without the contemporary bait.

I often wonder why the image of Sinatra, the entertainer, remains present in our culture’s zeitgeist while other performers of his era have fallen by the wayside and decades of popular vocalists seem instantly forgotten.

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Perhaps many of us still romanticize his fedora-wearing, Ring-a-Ding-Ding'ing Rat Packer image of a carefree, masculine, cocktail-swillin’, midcentury lifestyle that drew us into a palpable fantasy land. We millennials don’t remember those times; all we have is the art he left behind.

As a child, I got to "know" Frank through my grandmother, who would play me his records and show me his films. I heard of the days where Sinatra meant everything to urban-dwelling, immigrant kids like herself and my grandfather, who saw one of their own kind actually make it in this country. Sinatra gave them a sense of pride. As a young man, his music resonates with me.

Many books on Sinatra depict a flawed man — torrid love affairs, reckless marriages, a temper problem, sometimes difficult to work with. At one point, he lost control of his entire career and became an alcoholic, but somehow managed to come back with more strength, wisdom, and tenacity. In other words, he was a complex individual who had first-hand experience with suffering, loneliness, and overcoming failure. These are traits of the human experience that will always exist. And that’s why I love him.

When I play his sad torch songs, I hear the distress in his voice. When he sings about longing and heartbreak, I believe his conviction because I know he’s been through it.

We still search for truth and candor in our public figures. Sinatra never tried to cover up his shortcomings, but also, he rarely commented on them in interviews. Instead, he revealed his internal struggle through his music. On the 1957 concept album, "Where Are You?," Sinatra carefully selected songs about heartache as he attempted to confront his divorce from Ava Gardner, which happened that same year. The entire album is like dedicating a blog to your breakup and letting the world witness your pain. But Sinatra, being the artist he was, wore his emotions on his sleeve. His music was his coping mechanism. As a listener, I’m able to relate and absorb Frank as if he was my friend. I feel no distance.

For whatever reason Sinatra remains relevant in our society, I can only hope his art appreciates over time and with new generations.

Raj Tawney is a multimedia journalist based in New York who has contributed to outlets such as The Huffington Post, Newsday and Zee TV. Email him at rajtawney@gmail.com.