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FRANK SINATRA Francis Albert Sinatra was acclaimed by Down ' Beat last year as the singer of the year—the first — time such an accolade had been given him since 1947. The intervening years saw the plaudits and © : honors—and the money—go to younger and rela- tively lesser-known young men who sing popular songs for radio, TV and the giant recording indus- try. And hereby hangs a tale. Until quite recently, it was getting to be a habit. to refer to some of the oldtimers in the warbling business as—““You know, people like Vailee, Cros- by and Sinatra.” Of course, Bing is still around, still making with the. pipes in a variety of odd chores in the entertainment world. But his work is accepted and enjoyed, frankly, with a touch of nos- talgia. He is the old master, admittedly great, but no longer the object of mass adulation and the toter-home of honorary gold records—those sym- bols of fabulous discs which sell over a million cop- ies. And of course, the Connecticut Yankee, al- though an energetic and competent dabbler in other branches of the arts, no longer keeps ecstatic wo- men glued to the loudspeakers as he did a quarter of a century ago. The days of the neatly-parted . curly locks and the megaphone are gone forever. The thing that puts Frank Sinatra in a class by himself these days is that almost unheard-of accom- plishment—a true comeback. Not in the sense that Frankie has recaptured those early war days when