From BUD: The Brando I Knew' book by carlo Fiore
"Among many other encounters, I observed the first meeting between Marlon and Frank Sinatra. Sinatra appeared a few minutes later, brisk, blue eyes flashing, people jumping out of his way as he walked in a straight line, acting as though he owned everything in sight and everybody was on his payroll.
Joe Mankiewicz, the director, introduced him to Marlon. They shook hands and smiled. I thought Sinatra's smile was strained and unfelt. It was the kind of smile a professional fighter gives his opponent at the pre-fight weigh-in, but Marlon's was warm and genuine. Anyone could see that he was honestly delighted to meet the fabulous Sinatra.
Marlon likes to ease into a scene, to roam about on the set and absorb the atmosphere. He wants to glance at the extras, give a nod and smile to a familiar face. Sinatra, however, seemed impatient to get started; the movie was only one of many important things he had to do that day. Business associates were waiting in his dressing room. There were calls to make to Las Vegas, New York, and Florida. His entourage was gathered outside his dressing-room door, waiting to laugh at his jokes, light his cigarettes, hand him a drink, or bring him a hot dog—do anything for him, anything After a rehearsal or two,
Marlon, Sinatra, and Mankiewicz decided to go for a take. Sinatra is a "one-or-two-take man," as they say in Hollywood, and he soon began to be exasperated because Marlon required many takes before he was satisfied with a scene. After eight or more out-takes, Sinatra, who was obliged to eat cheesecake during Marlon's dialogue, slammed his fork on the table, sprang to his feet, and yelled at Mankiewicz, "These fucking New York actors! How much cheesecake do you think I can eat?" And he walked off the set. Mankiewicz called for a five-minute break to ease the tension.
I thought Sinatra had overreacted, Later, I learned that Marlon had snatched the Sky Master-son role (the romantic lead) right out of Sinatra's grasp. Sinatra wanted it badly, but Marlon came along, coveted it, and got it. Sinatra was offered the secondary role of Nathan Detroit, a small-time gambler who spoke with a thick Bronx-Jewish accent, and, to everybody's surprise, he accepted it.
It was no secret in Hollywood that Sinatra carried grudges for a long, long time, and one of his cronies told me that he was determined to "sing Marlon right off the screen." Both Marlon and I were on hand, along with many other spectators, who gathered around to see him try to do hat when he played his first musical scene.
Sinatra came on the set dressed as Nathan Detroit, Sinatra delivered his lines with only the faintest suggestion of an accent, but in character. When he sang, however, he sang as himself—smooth, lyrical, romantic. And out of character.
I was standing behind Marlon, peering at the scene over his shoulder, and he slowly turned around until we were standing face to face. He was a little pale and whispered harshly, "He's playing my part. He's not the romantic lead. / am.
Marlon went over to Mankiewicz, who was standing nearby, and said, "Joe, Frank's playing his part all wrong. He's supposed to sing with a Bronx accent. He's supposed to clown it up. But he's singing like a romantic lead. We can't have two romantic leads."
"I agree with you," Mankiewicz said. "What do you suggest I do about it?" "Tell him!" Marlon said. "Tell him!" The notion of "telling" Sinatra how he should sing a song brought a wry smile to Joe's lips. 'You tell him," he said and walked away.
Marlon was dumbstruck for a few seconds. When he recovered, he said, "It's not my job to tell him. It's the director's job. I'm never going to work with Mankiewicz again."
