BY all accounts Frank Vincent was a good drummer. His long musician period began in the 1960's, a frenzied time when he got married, had two children and drank, flirting and playing his way through most every nightclub and recording studio in New York. During the day he would do studio work with acts like Paul Anka, Steve Lawrence and Eydie Gorme, Del Shannon, the Duprees and others. At night he would play with some incarnation of his own band, called "Frank Vincent and the Aristocats."

The Aristocats lived a neon "rat pack" life of cigarettes, martinis and tuxedos in a now-vanished world of show business. In their 1960's heyday, the band would dress to the nines in such coordinated outfits as red tuxes with black lapels and black bow ties, cummerbunds and patent-leather shoes. They would work hard, performing the latest hits 40 minutes an hour, six hours a night, at a host of long-forgotten clubs on West 48th Street, the Hawaii Kai by the Winter Garden Theater on West 51st Street, and the Wagon Wheel and the Peppermint Lounge on West 45th Street.

After the shows, the guys would loosen their bow ties and head to Frank Sinatra's favorite spot, Jilly's on 52d at Eighth Avenue, to have yet another drink, sit in on a late set and try to meet the great singer. Then it was down to the Village for Chinese food, and finally Mr. Vincent would head home to Jersey, driving across the George Washington Bridge, drunk and exhausted as the sun rose behind him. He says he remembers these morning drives the best. The rest of it is like a faded hangover he'd rather not think about.

"I don't go to bars anymore," he said.

You probably don't recognize the name Frank Vincent, but you may know the face. It's the kind of New York tough-guy face that turns up so often in gangster films that the viewer's mind, by reflex, exclaims "Oh yeah, him again." If you have ever wondered about the life behind the face, you might consider Mr. Vincent. His roles may have been small, but his life has been an epic.