We spent our nights at the Hotel de Paris, at the restaurant Le Grill, overlooking the sea, or Le Bar Américain, an elegant jazz bar with leather club chairs and dark wood. Some nights Barbara would have food prepared in the kitchen of the suite for everyone. “I’ll have the veal, pounded,” Sinatra would say as he demonstrated his preference by banging his elbow twice on the table.
Barbara would join us for dinner after the shows, as would Bobby. Bobby had a wide social network in Monte Carlo. In addition to Frank and Barbara’s friends, who were mostly associated with the royal family, Bobby had a group of younger friends whom he would sometimes meet up with after dinner.
One night at Le Grill, we were seated next to the nightclub impresario Régine Zylberberg. She was a colorful character who loved to sing, dance, and curse. She was small in stature but big in personality. She could be rude and feisty. She spent her young life hiding from the Nazis and went on to create the modern-day discotheque with Paris’s Whisky à Gogo. She also opened Jimmy’z, a hot nightclub in Monaco known for drawing American, Italian, and Parisian jet-setters.
Someone from her table came over looking to take a picture with Frank. Jilly explained that Mr. Sinatra was eating and turned down their request. As the night went on, their table became louder and louder, making comments about how they were snubbed. Someone started snapping photos and Sinatra became increasingly miffed. Then someone threw something at our table and it almost hit Sinatra. I never saw what it was, possibly a piece of bread, because Jilly stood up and without a word, in one move, flipped their table over.
In an effort to keep things from spiraling out of control—assuming they hadn’t already—and knowing it could always escalate, I told everyone in our group to leave. We all quickly returned to our rooms, including Jilly.
Bobby decided to go on to a local club, and as luck would have it, Régine and her friends were there. Insults were traded and Bobby called us. Frank told Jilly to make sure Bobby was safe and bring him back to the hotel.
There was a whole group standing at the bar when Jilly arrived. Bobby told him some words were exchanged with one of the guys and Jilly told the man to back off. When he didn’t, a fight ensued, Régine started yelling, and Jilly picked her up and hung her by the back of her dress on a coathook. He left her kicking and screaming.
Back at the hotel, Jilly and Bobby told us what happened and we knew we needed to hightail it out of Monaco, especially when we learned the police were on their way to the hotel. Jilly, as I mentioned, had friends everywhere, and that included some of the hotel staff, who helped him slip out undetected by using the catwalk that ran alongside the sewer lines.
The rest of us walked out the front door. After a brief explanation to the police that the tour was over and we were on our way home, we arrived at the Nice airport to find Jilly waiting with his face buried in a newspaper. We all had a good laugh on the plane.
Monaco continued to be a favored spot for the Sinatras and there were never any further incidents with any of our group. As for Régine, Sinatra never forgave her, and when she invited him to her Miami club during the Ultimate Event Tour, his response was an unmitigated, no fucking way.