Sinatra with a cold is Picasso without paint, Ferrari without fuel–only worse. For the common cold robs Sinatra of that uninsurable jewel, his voice, cutting into the core of his confidence, and it affects not only his own psyche but also seems to cause a kind of psychosomatic nasal drip within dozens of people who work for him, drink with him, love him, depend on him for their own welfare and stability. A Sinatra with a cold can, in a small way, send vibrations through the entertainment industry and beyond as surely as a President of the United States, suddenly sick, can shake the national economy.
It’s been called the best store that Esquire has ever printed, which I might just agree with. It’s not just a great celebrity profile, but a great one considering it was done up close and personal but without the cooperation of the primary individual being scrutinized. There’s a fantastic little confrontation between Harlan Ellison and Sinatra that’s mentioned and you really see Sinatra struggling with maintaining his own relevance. There’s a lot more that I’d like to say about it, but instead… Well, I just suggest that you read it instead. It is worth your time.