From 1945, here's the skinny young Frank Sinatra singing his obviously Communist-inspired ode to tolerance "The House I Live In."
It is perhaps no accident that Albert Maltz, the screenwriter of this little short, went on to become one of the (jailed for their political beliefs) Hollywood Ten. And I was hardly surprised to learn that songwriters Earl Robinson and Lewis Allan would become victims of the blacklist that former Screen Actor's Guild president Ronald Reagan, who should have fricking known better, famously insisted never existed.
But, of course, I have no animus whatsoever against the rightwing Republicans responsible for HUAC or the blacklists. Nor their contemporary progeny. Nosirree.
Okay, sorry to let my politics intrude here. As the guy says in Monty Python and the Holy Grail -- This is supposed to be a happy occasion. Let's not bicker and argue over who killed who.
In any event, a coveted PowerPop No-Prize will be awarded the first reader who gleans the clip's relevance to the theme of tomorrow's Weekend Listomania.
I would also like to say, and for the record, that the jacket Frankie is wearing in that clip is just way, way cool.