The Age of Cool: The Rat Pack Defines a Generation

by Leah Bailly | Nov 29 2007

The night was as cool as the players. It was late January 1959, as Las Vegas chilled under a desert sky, when Vegas hero Dean Martin first stepped on stage with friend Frank Sinatra at the Sands' famous Copa Room. The head table must have been loaded. Sands owner Jack Entratter would have been flanked by starlets. Rocks glasses tinkled with vodka martinis. The ladies were decked in fur and jewels. It wasn't until halfway through "I Only Have Eyes for You" that Frank removed his fedora. The crowd of local celebrities and socialites erupted into an ovation every medley. And Dino would deliver nothing but a wink and a tip of the hat with one look from Frank's eyes. The audience went wild for Sinatra and Martin. America couldn’t get enough of their style.

The casinos that surrounded the Copa Room must have been singing. In early 1959, with Havana in the throes of a revolution, gangsters were looking for a new home. Las Vegas swarmed with thugs and opportunists. Giant casino plans were being hatched over rounds of Baccarat by high rollers and mobsters in finery. Gentlemen pored over poker games in tailored suits. Women in evening gowns sipped champagne and rolled the dice. The Sands was class. The money was pouring. And the Rat Pack was everybody's emblem. People wanted to talk like them, drink like them and most of all, act like them.

Off the Cuff, Sharp as a Knife

Originally named for the Holmby Hills gang of Hollywood stars, which started in the '50s by Humphrey Bogart and his dashing wife Lauren Bacall, the "Clan" was dubbed a "goddamned rat pack" of gamblers, drinkers and performers. After Bogie's death, Sinatra, no stranger to good-looking dames and showbiz giants, surrounded himself with a crew of friends who suited his slick demeanor. Peter Lawford, brother-in-law to future President John F. Kennedy, was welcomed into the crew. Shirley MacLaine and Judy Garland, ladies who could down cocktails and still shine on camera, became Rat Packettes. Sporting tuxes and sharkskin, the gang frequented the ballrooms, casinos and bars of the then-blooming Las Vegas. 

The motley crew that formed around Sinatra in the 1960s was made up, like most Vegas heroes, largely of sons of immigrants. Legend Sammy Davis Jr. was born in Harlem of Cuban-American vaudeville performers and Sinatra of an Italian boxer in New Jersey. Latecomer Joey Bishop was born in the Bronx and rose through the ranks of filmmaking and music largely due to connections in the Eastern Syndicates. The mob ran a good racket: music, showgirls and money for performers. Meanwhile, America was softening to their crass humor and quick tongues. The Rat Pack had a street sense, a learned class that went beyond tired old money. Their jokes were off the cuff, but their look was as sharp as a knife. These guys were players, not punks. 

In 1960, Frank and Dino, with Sammy Davis Jr. (Smokey), Peter Lawford and a handful of what Frank called "millionaires with common interests," got together to make a few movies between nightly "Summit Meetings" onstage at the Sands. Ocean's 11, filmed in postwar Vegas, was a testament to the cool stride and casual talk of the performers. They spoke their own language of "barn burners" (stylish ladies) and "mish-mashes" (messed up dames). Everything was a gas. The Rat Pack was surrounded by Jack Entratter's gorgeous Copa Showgirls (hired strictly for their bombshell looks) and would laugh at anything - even death, known in Rat Pack lingo as the "big casino."

Defining Style, Defining Vegas

Sammy Davis Jr., a founding member of the crew, personified their style at every occasion. After a massive car accident in 1954 on Route 66 on his way home from Vegas, Davis suffered major injuries, including the loss of his left eye. Sammy would not be swayed. He converted to Judaism, put on a cool set of shades, and it wasn't long before Davis was back in his tux. His first film appearance, Meet Me In Las Vegas featured a real showman, often in a white tux jacket, bowtie undone. Sammy could juggle a microphone, cigarette and his fourth gin and tonic while tap dancing. And he never missed a word to a song. Occasionally in an eye patch and always with his pencil mustache and enormous smile, Sammy brought civil rights to Vegas merely by insisting he be allowed to dine at the same casino where he performed. The Rat Pack followed suit. Segregation was simply intolerable for a group as racially and religiously mixed as the "Summit." They were too big of a sensation to be ignored.

Each of the Rat Pack members had his defining style. Each represented his own facet of the changing society. The Italian boss of the group, a singing waiter from New Jersey, could croon the ladies into their sleep. Dean Martin was cool and ready to improvise whatever song you could hum. And the group's MC, Joey Bishop, worked his way up from the slums using wit and wry comedy to climb the top of the charts. These men, with their cocked hats and civil rights, looked and felt as relaxed and successful as every postwar American wanted to be. They defined the generation. They turned Vegas into a real class act. 

But here in Vegas, we always have to say goodbye to someone. A month ago, the last living member of the Rat Pack, Joey Bishop, passed away at the age of 89. As the Rat Pack's MC and whom Frank labeled the "hub of the wheel," Bishop was the man they all turned to when the show went a little too wild. Calm, cool and yet full of bravado, The Rat Pack's casual glamour still graces Vegas to this day, from the tailored suits, to the cocktails and cigarettes, to those swinging encores still heard in karaoke joints across town. While their legacy lives on, here's hoping that the gang's got a winning table, together, in the real "big casino." 

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