A few weeks back, Thrillist published witty little listicle titled “24 Things You Need to Explain to Out-Of-Towners About Hoboken.” It was pretty funny and insightful, featuring a lot of good info… except for one rather egregious error.
At number four on the list, the author claims:
“No one cares about Sinatra.”
Is that so???
Look, Thrillist—we get it… you want to come across as edgy, so you decided to throw shade at one of the most revered entertainers in history—because being a snarky contrarian is what all the cool kids do these days.
Having looked up Sinatra on Wikipedia, you were likely able to determine that he is in fact deceased, and would therefore spare you the ass-kicking he would have handed out if you had the balls to say something like that when he was alive.
At the very least, you could have done more to substantiate such a pointlessly belligerent statement. Hell, it’s no secret that Sinatra and Hoboken had a love-hate relationship over the years. In 1947, Sinatra was pelted with tomatoes as he rode in a parade down Washington Street.
But rather than do any legwork, you just decided to say something absurdly inaccurate, like:
“About the only sign of Sinatra you’ll find in town these days is a sad plaque in the sidewalk outside the address where he was born.”
Nice work, Thrillist. On the off chance you want to continue this discussion face-to-face, how about we meet at SINATRA PARK… on SINATRA DRIVE… say, at the annual SINATRA IDOL CONTEST?
Or how about we grab a bite to eat at Leo’s? Wanna do lunch instead? Fine—I’ll meet you at Piccolo’s. I’m sure Patty Boy and the rest of the crew would love to hear your opinion on Francis Albert Sinatra’s legacy here in Hoboken.
Listen—people like you have been taking pot-shots at Frank Sinatra ever since The Hoboken Four played the “Major Bowes Amateur Hour.”
But hey, “That’s Life”…
Written by Dean Kay and Kelly Gordon, Sinatra’s rendition of “That’s Life” was released on his 1966 album of the same name. The song was a number-four hit on the Billboard Hot 100 chart and reached number one on the Easy Listening chart for three weeks in December 1966/January 1967.
Just leave the fedora at home, kid—it looks silly on you.