“So Richie,” Frank Sinatra said to me after fitting one of his J. Press suits fifty years ago, “maybe you and your gal can meet me at Quo Vadis on Saturday for dinner then we’ll go see Frank, Jr. at the Rainbow Room. Maybe you can get a table for the J. Press gang.”
That’s right, along with the invitation of a lifetime, was Frank Sinatra asking me to paper the room for his son’s gig?
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