William N. Law Blog: Sinatra: Strangers in the Night

In the Wall Street Journal today, I write on Frank Sinatra's Strangers in the Night—the single and the album (go here). Fifty years ago this week, the single went to No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 and the album soon a chart topper in July, resulting in four Grammys the following year. For the article, I tracked down Jimmy Bowen, the song's legendary producer, and Artie Kane, the organist who gave the album its fresh and snarky pop feel.

In the early summer of 1966, I was 9 but still vividly remember Strangers in the Night. So much so that just hearing the opening sweep of the strings today takes me back to those summer nights and the smell of cotton candy and popcorn. As I recall, there was a heat wave then with talk of drought. Air conditioning didn't exist yet for average families. Not in cars or bedrooms. Before turning in, you took a wash cloth, soaked it in cold water, ran it over your body and left yourself wet with the big square floor fan thumping away on medium as you fell asleep.

In early July, school had just let out for the summer. In my neighborhood in Manhattan's Washington Heights, parents began taking turns driving a carload of kids across the George Washington Bridge to Palisades Amusement Park in New Jersey. There was no camp or summer homes back then. At dusk, as we neared the amusement park's, you'd see the neon signs from the rides and attractions blurring into the humid evening air. Strangers in the Night seemed to be everywhere. We heard it on the car radio on the way over and it was playing on the midway. I even heard it at night in my bedroom drifting from parents' living rooms in the apartment building. Amid the pre-teen Fab Four fever, parents were having their last laugh and a last hurrah. Their music played most often on hulking living-room consoles could still overtake ours.

As I write in my Strangers in the Night essay, the song was the result of a series of accidents. Originally it was an instrumental called Beddy Bye by easy-listening maestro Bert Kaempfert for a movie called A Man Could Get Killed, which opened in March '66. The publisher of Kaempfert's song played it for producer Jimmy Bowen, who was working with Sinatra at Reprise in Los Angeles. Jimmy loved it and asked Fine for lyrics. Let Jimmy pick up the story:

"In 1966, Hal Fine was the head of Roosevelt Music and published Bert Kaempfert's music for the movie A Man Could Get Killed. Hal had a good ear. He sensed that Beddy Bye, an instrumental, had Frank written all over it, so he came to me and played the track. I liked it immediately. The song was perfect for Sinatra, and I told Hal if he got the right lyrics I’d bring it to him. Fine went to lyricist Eddie Snyder, who worked on the song’s words with co-lyricist Charles Singleton and Kaempfert while sitting around a piano. They renamed the song Strangers in the Night.

"Hal sent me a demo but I didn't like the first set of lyrics. A week went by and he sent me a new demo with a bunch of other things. It was 2 a.m. and I had just gotten back from the studio. After I listened to it, I flipped. I called Hal and woke him up to tell him how much I loved it. The next day, I called Frank and said we had to meet. Frank told me to come over. After I played him the demo he loved the song. I said, "We have to record it soon." Sinatra said, "Great, how about Monday [April 11]." [Photo above of Jimmy Bowen by Beth Gwinn]

I reached out to arranger Ernie Freeman, who had been working with me on sessions, and I booked United Recording. That Monday, I got there early, around 4 p.m., to make sure the studio was set. I knew Frank liked to have everything ready when he arrived. With a few hours until he would arrive at 8 p.m., I headed out to grab a bite at Martoni's in Hollywood. When I walked in, there was Jack Jones in a booth. I sat down and Jack asked what I was up to. I told him I was recorded Sinatra that night. When I asked how he was doing, Jack said he had just recorded a song called Strangers int he Night.

"I told Jack it was great seeing him, got up and quickly returned to the studio without eating. Hal had shopped the song around. I can't blame him—he didn't know if Frank was actually going to record it. He was hedging his bets.” [Photo of Jack Jones in 1966]

When I got back to the studio, I booked two mastering rooms. Then I sent a guy out to get about $300 in $20 bills. I also had someone in the A&R department round up six guys. As soon as the recording session ended, I planned on making acetate discs of the master. Then I'd have the guys take them to LAX and pay flight attendants to hand them off to Reprise promotion people when they landed in 12 different markets. The promo guys, in turn, would bring them to the radio stations.

"When Frank arrived at the studio at 8 p.m., I didn't tell him about my earlier conversation with Jack [Jones]. Nothing good could come of it. Frank immediately got with his pianist Bill Miller in a another room to warm up. We recorded the song in three takes. On the first two, Frank was having trouble with the key-change modulation, where 'love was just a glance away, a warm embracing dance away' meets 'Ever since that night...'

"As soon as I heard there was a problem, I stopped the music and came into the studio to talk to Frank privately. Ernie had put that modulation in toward the end to give the arrangement a lift, but Frank had missed it twice. He couldn't find his note in the new key. He was in front of a lot of musicians and I needed to protect his reputation. In the corner of the studio, Frank apologized for screwing up, and I said not to worry about it, that the arrangement had made that transition tough.

"I said, 'Frank, we'll record up to the the modulation. You'll stop. Then you'll hear a bell note on the piano for the new key and you can pick it up. We'll cut the two takes together." Frank said, "We can do that?" I said, "Sure." He said, "OK, great." And that's what we did.

After the three takes, [engineer] Eddie Backett (above) took out his razor blade and we cut and spliced the three takes together in the editing room. I told Frank that I wanted to get the song out fast, that Strangers was a song that would likely be covered by other singers. Once Frank approved the master and left, I started making acetates in two mastering rooms, four at a time. As soon as they were cut, they'd go into envelopes addressed to contacts at the 12 stations around the country that controlled all the national ads. Then I sent the team off to the airport.

"First thing the next morning, I called the stations to let them know the record was coming. It was pretty exciting—stations were waiting for a Sinatra acetate coming straight from the mastering room.

"Jack's single had gone out the traditional way—by mail. In some cases, the single didn't arrive until after Frank's was already on the air. Or it was still sitting in the stacks of singles waiting to be auditioned by the stations' program directors. The acetates would only last through a handful of plays before the quality would fade. But by then, our 45 of Strangers in the Night had arrived." [Photo above of LAX in 1966]

Tomorrow, my full conversation with Artie Kane, the organist on the Strangers in the Night album.

JazzWax tracks: You'll find Frank Sinatra's Strangers in the Night here. The title song of the album was arranged by Ernie Freeman and produced by Jimmy Bowen. The balance of the album was arranged by Nelson Riddle and produced by Sonny Burke.

JazzWax clips: Here's the single of Strangers in the Night...