When asked what he would like the first man on the moon to say, Vladimir Nabokov replied: "I want a lump in his throat to obstruct the wisecrack." I thought of that last night watching the tribute to Frank Sinatra. It was an unsatisfying, if not quite blasphemous, undertaking to bring together a group of singers to do their renditions of hits by a man whose greatness lay in his ability to make a song his own. Would that they had all sat there in awe and listened to his priceless recordings.
