Dial File: Frank's legacy takes edge off Jerry's publicity

SINATRA VS. Seinfeld.

Mourning vs. merriment. Memorials vs. manipulation.

And, in the end, affection vs. affectation.

That's shorthand for the extraordinary 48 hours of pop culture coverage last week when Frank Sinatra died less than an hour after the final "Seinfeld" concluded on the West coast, triggering journalistic meltdown.

And as supremely sad as Sinatra's passing was -- and, yes, wearying as the torrent of TV tributes predictably proved to be -- it also provided a welcome sincerity in an otherwise cynical week of manufactured media madness, a k a "Seinfeld."

A contest, if you will, between The Man Who Sang "From Here to Eternity" and The Hype That Stretched From Here to Eternity.

As if fatefully linked, Frank and Jerry dovetailed again on Wednesday, when a funeral Mass was held for Sinatra and the "Seinfeld" finale was rerun to squeeze the last drop of ratings juice from the May sweeps.

Real emotion vs. pure business.

Despite the national grief unleashed by Sinatra's death, at least it wiped that self-congratulatory smirk off the "Seinfeld" love-fest that NBC created and inflated to insane proportions, then let an all-too-willing press -- and public -- devour like Pavlov's dogs answering the dinner bell.

Jerry Seinfeld himself seemed perplexed by all the emotion -- authentic or otherwise -- over a show that shuddered at the slightest display of any.

The monster media machine powering the "Seinfeld" swan song was textbook cynicism, designed to provoke sloppy sentiment over a series that created "no hugging, no learning" as its battle cry. (Attribute it to network hype-meisters, not the series, which pulled off a respectable farewell, as described elsewhere in this column). "Seinfeld" was funny, witty and observant. But it was not huggable.

Unlike the "M*A*S*H" finale or the "Cheers" adieu or Johnny Carson's departure -- all of which seemed to strike an affectionate American nerve -- the"Seinfeld" send-off signaled the national acceptance of hype over heart.

And so came a strangely dutiful public response: It's a long-running, top-rated TV show -- of course we'll go bonkers. That's what we DO in America.

Were you really moved by the end of "Seinfeld" -- a show that refreshingly refused to move us over nine seasons -- or just swept along, throwing your arms up in surrender and going, oh, what the hell? NBC scored the ultimate victory for a show steeped in irony: a snide joke in which the network tapped into America's affinity for touchy-feely slobbering -- c'mon, before ya go, give us a hug, ya four funny lugs! and pitted it against "Seinfeld's" smirky detachment, making us more the fools than Jerry, George, Kramer and Elaine.

Until Frank left us. Instead of waking last Friday to a media obsession with finale ratings and reactions, "Seinfeld" was swallowed up by Sinatra -- and a nation's focus was re-routed from its hype-addled brain to its grief-stricken heart.

Sinatra. The name conjures up immense emotional memories brimming with bravado, talent, attitude, talent, Americana, talent, class and talent. You don't need this column to remind you of what this man meant to America and the world -- especially not after the week just past, the media gorging on all things Sinatra.

Sure, I eventually overdosed on Frank's mob ties, Frank's generosity, Frank's movie career, Frank's career peaks, Frank's career valleys, Frank's Rat Pack, Frank's dalliances with Ava and Mia, Frank's Kennedy ties and disillusionment, Frank's health woes, Frank's duets with rockers, Frank's way with a lyric, Frank's ...

Stop spreadin' the news!

Yet, like the man himself, it never, ever felt false. Part shared grief over our loss, part shared celebration of his life, the Sinatra salutes may have been excessive -- what isn't in today's media-mad culture? -- but I defy anyone to declare someone more deserving of them than Francis Albert Sinatra.

Shaking off the calculation and manipulation of "Seinfeld's" sign-off, leave it to Sinatra -- who spent a lifetime reading our hearts -- to lead us back to our hearts, one more time.

SEIN-OFF: World-record hype aside -- again, blame NBC -- what was left of the "Seinfeld" sayonara? A funny, unsentimental send-off for a funny, unsentimental series. Jerry and the gang go to jail. Four callous, selfish, self-absorbed whiners pay for their callous, selfish, self-absorbed whining.

Here was a sitcom finale that had the courage of its comedic convictions. But as the NBC plane carrying the gang suddenly leveled out after nose-diving toward a possibly messy end -- and Elaine exclaimed, "Jerry, I've always ..." -- one thought haunted me: It's all a dream.

In the worst tradition of "Dallas," I figured that their arrest, trial and conviction under a "good Samaritan" law for failing to help a New Englander in trouble -- indeed, mocking his mugging -- would wind up dripping with more sentimentality than Bobby in the shower: It was all a panic-triggered hallucination as the plane plummeted. The foursome would mend their whiny ways as the jet cruised upward again, and Elaine's declaration of love for Jerry would punctuate an intolerably mushy moment.

YEEEECH! Thank God I was wrong.

The loopy gimmick of bringing in a parade of hostile witnesses to attest to their antics in court was a wonderful way to revisit their funniest moments with the Bubble Boy, the Soup Nazi, Baboo, Sidra, Steinbrenner and all the rest.

And for a show obsessed with minutiae, the clueless "Seinfeld" gang -- after being sentenced to a year in prison, surely one of life's larger moments -- fades out to a discussion of shirt buttons. Or "nothing," if you prefer. No cop-outs. Just consistency.

The line that nailed it for me? Elaine, asked by Jerry right after their conviction what she was about to declare when they thought the plane was about to crash, sneers: "I've always loved ... U--nited Airlines."

No hugging, no learning, indeed.

CROON A TUNE: All we can say about reader Mark Ritchie is: Ain't we lucky we got him? That's because Mark knew that the lyric "Not gettin' hassled, not gettin' hustled; keepin' your head above water; makin' a way when you can" was from the "Good Times" theme.

Despite temporary layoffs (Good Times!), easy credit ripoffs (Good Times!) and scratchin' and survivin' (Good Times!), Mark came through. He is -- OK, we'll say it -- DY-NO-MITE!

Next? What series that just ended its long run used as its theme song ... the entire catalog of Motown Records? If you hear the answer Through the Grapevine, be a Sugar Pie Honey Bunch and dial up Dial File, via phone or e-mail. If there Ain't No Mountain High Enough to keep you from being the first with the correct answer, there ain't no valley low enough to keep your name out of this column.

Otherwise, you'll wind up shedding The Tears of a Clown.

THANK YOU FOR THIS DISHONOR: Total TV magazine recently announced the winners of its annual readers poll. My favorite category? The "Best Title For Movie We Will Probably See in '98" category. The winner? "Lies & Whispers: The Frank Gifford Story."

But it was nip-and-tuck with two other anticipated tele-flicks: "Once Bitten, Twice Shy: The Mike Tyson Story" and "Tooth and Consequences: The Marv Albert Story."

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