Alone, Frank Sinatra slowly sheds a tear. He wishes he could quit smoking, while he sits by the river. Ol’ Blue Eyes doesn’t want to sing anymore.

Frank never liked Led Zeppelin, but they dedicated an album to something he desired. Led Zeppelin III is dedicated to ‘the idea of forgotten completeness’- recorded in an ancient cabin in the Welsh marshlands, the Rock Gods wrote a collection of songs in memory of the old world, the world their Grandfathers and Great Grandfathers lived in, quiet farmers and woodsmen out in the English countryside, not a care in the world outside of the land they lived on.

Frank Sinatra lives all across the world, on records and in the pictures. His past selves have as much a presence as his present self. He’s in New York City singing about heartbreak, as a successful artist, while his shows are being cancelled in Australia. It makes him feel like less than a man, and more. He’s a skyscraper made of flesh and blood. He’s an American Institution.

He’s an immigrant son from New Jersey, whose emotional problems kept him from serving his country in the war.

He wonders aloud where it is he can go. A man that tall can’t disappear. His blue eyes shine like stars.