During the waning days of summer 46 years ago, four college boys from Smithfield had a close encounter in New York City with the man who is now being acclaimed worldwide as ìThe Greatest Entertainer of the Century. The UNC-Chapel Hill students were William Gardner (Billy) Grimes, who later became a Smithfield businessman; Robert Farmer, who became a Superior Court judge; Albert Farmer Jr., who became a physician specializing in endocrinology; and Austin Stevens, who became a Smithfield attorney.

When the young men went to the Big Apple in September of 1952, Robert, Albert, and Austin were hoping to see the Yankees play ball, and Billy, who loves classical music, hoped to attend a New York Philharmonic concert at Carnegie Hall and an opera at the Met.

Billy also planned to look up his aunt, Ava Gardner, who was staying at New York's Hampshire House with her new husband, Frank Sinatra. When Billy phoned Ava, she gave him a good-natured raking over the coals. "Hey, Hotshot, where have you been?' she demanded. "Your mother told me you'd be here yesterday!" (Billy's mother was Ava's sister, Inez, and his father was Smithfield businessman Johnny Grimes.) Then Ava told her nephew: "Frank's got a table for all of you tonight."

That night, the four Smithfieldians went to Bill Miller's Riviera Supper Club at Fort Lee, New Jersey, where Frank Sinatra was almost literally singing for his supper. At that time, Ava was a major international film star, but Frank's career was nearing the last stages of meltdown. His television show had been canceled. He had lost his movie contract. His recording contract with Capitol Records had not been renewed. And he had signed his assets over to his ex-wife, Nancy, in order to obtain the divorce and marry Ava, who was by all accounts, past and present, "the love of his life." (Frank and Ava had married on November 7, 1951.)

When the Smithfield boys reached the supper club, they gave the maitreíd their names and said they were guests of Mr. Sinatra. And they were escorted to a ìringsideî table, where they watched the man give a grand performance. "I'd never seen him before," Billy said, "and I was really impressed." After Frank completed a set, he joined Ava and his young guests at their table. ìHe was as congenial and friendly as anyone could possibly be," Billy recalled. Frank called a ìroving photographerî over to the table and they all posed for pictures that are now part of Billy's treasured collection. The 8-by-10 black-and-white glossy pictures were $1.50 each.

"Here's your big moment"

When Robert, Albert, and Austin returned home to Smithfield, Billy remained in New York City for a couple of weeks and further adventures with his remarkable aunt and uncle. "I couldn't have asked for a better host than Frank Sinatra," he said.

The only time that Frank seemed to be a bit upset, perhaps with tongue in cheek, was when he asked Billy what he was majoring in at Chapel Hill. When Billy said he was a journalism major, Frankís response was, "Oh Jesus, not that!" (Frank and Ava had been hounded unmercifully by the press.) Later, Billy changed his major to political science, but he insists Sinatra had nothing to do with that decision. Ava was in New York for the premiere of "The Snows of Kilimanjaro" at the huge Rivoli Theater. Her co-stars were Gregory Peck and Susan Hayward, and the film was based on a story by Ernest Hemingway, who became one of Ava's best friends.

As plans were being made for the big premiere night, Ava turned to Billy and said, "Baby, have you got a tuxedo?" Billy said he didnít have a tux, but he had brought a white dinner jacket with him. "No, no," Ava replied. 'That won't do here. We've got to do something." Frank came up with the solution. "I know a theatrical costume agency," he told Billy. "Theyíll fix you up. It's only four or five blocks from here, and you can walk to it." So Billy walked to the costume agency and was fitted for a tux.

The day before the premiere, a newspaper reporter came to Avaís suite. After Billy was introduced as her nephew, he sat quietly reading a newspaper while the interview was being conducted. He overheard Ava say she never thought of herself as an actress. ìIím just skin and bones that photograph well,î she said. She also expressed her continuing disappointment at having her singing voice dubbed in "Show Boat," the MGM musical which was released in 1951. (Her own voice is on the "Show Boatî record album.) Billy didnít pay attention to much else that was said.

Later, Billy learned that the reporter was none other than famed syndicated columnist Earl Wilson, and he learned it the hard way. When it came time to don his costume-shop tuxedo, Billy struggled with the bow tie, which he was not accustomed to wearing. Frank, who had worn bow ties for most of his life, said, "Billy, let Ava tie it. She ties them better than I do."

As the hands on the clock indicated it was time to go, Ava's entourage boarded a limousine. She got in first and Billy got in last, which meant that he had to be the first to get out in front of the Rivoli Theater. And nothing could have prepared him for what was about to happen. "I'd never seen anything like it," he recalled. "There were 20,000 people in front of the theater. Police barricades were up and spotlights and flash bulbs were everywhere. There were at least 50 Pinkerton guards trying to control the crowd."

"O.K., Billy, here's your big moment!" Frank said as the limousine door next to Billy was opened by a man in a uniform. As soon as Billy emerged, he heard a shout from within the crowd. Drifting over the masses in a heavy Brooklyn accent was "Hey Billy! Where'd you get the suit?!" The story of his quest for a tuxedo had wound up in Earl Wilson's column. "There I was in all my splendor, and I was embarrassed," Billy recalled with a smile. "The movie was very good," Billy said, ìbut Frank couldn't stay for the whole thing, because he had to go to New Jersey for his singing engagement."

The next day, Billy returned to the theater with Ava, whose job was to sit at a table in a corner of the lobby and autograph black-and-white publicity photos. Billy recalled that there was a statue of Ava near the table, perhaps the one made for her role in "One Touch of Venus" in 1949. "The lobby seemed as big as a football field," he said. "People were coming in off the street in droves, and when the movie ended and thousands more poured into the lobby, things really got hairy." Someone quickly got Ava out of there, and Billy was left wondering what he was going to do. Shortly thereafter, a burly man who carried a gun under his coat grabbed Billy and rushed him into an alley and a waiting car. The man was Hank Sanicola, Sinatra's well-known bodyguard. "He saved my bacon that day," Billy said.

Club 21 and baseball box seats

During his time with Frank and Ava, Billy went with them to a posh New York club that he later learned was "21", a favorite hangout for the very rich and very famous. There were around 20 people in the party that night, and Billy doesn't recall the name of the host, who was seated next to him. "We all had dinner and champagne," he said. "My eyesight was very good at that time, and I got a good look at the bill when it was presented to the host. It was $15,000." (Yes, that's fifteen thousand dollars!)

Reprinted with the permission of the Smithfield Selma Sun, Selma, North Carolina.